#or if they were doing it at sam's shop... not out of the possibility i feel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

retrosabers · 4 months ago

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𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #ficmas #ficmas 2024 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan

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godmadeaterribleerror · 1 month ago

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Look Behind You

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, fingering), light angst, fluff, humor, action, no use of y/n, semi-linear story telling, enemies to lovers

Summary: You've made a mistake. You've been reckless and fallen in love with Bucky. There's only one way to deal with this.

Make a list.

Author's Note: This is one of my favorites, I think. Thriving in the semi-linear story telling, feelings, and list making. Gotta love a good list. Enjoy!

Word Count: 11.9k

The pen in your hands feels more like a weapon. The last line of defense against the unthinkable.

The only thing holding your sanity, dignity, and life by a single thread, set to snap if you’re not careful.

Nobody will bother you in this coffee shop. Not even Bucky will look for you here. You’re in public. You’re somewhere obvious and simple, and that’s the whole point. Sam and Bucky will lose themselves down dark allies and in hidden corners of the city before they think to check an emotionally significant landmark in downtown Manhattan. They won’t believe you’d be that stupid, make it that easy for them. They’ll think that—because you’re dodging calls, because you were gone when Bucky woke up and you didn’t meet with Sam before lunch—you don’t want to be found.

And you don’t.

So they’re not going to find you.

There’s a lingering fear that a search team might be assembled, and the city may be barricaded in until you’re found, but you don’t think Sam will abuse his power like that.

Bucky might try to convince him to.

You’re about fifty percent sure Sam won’t cave.

It’s a bridge you’ll burn when you reach it. When they do—eventually��find you. When you—hopefully—have your answer, and you have to look Bucky in the eyes and keep finding a way to live with yourself.

If this goes as you hope, that will be quite easy. You’ll lie through your teeth and say you lost your phone—it’s right next to you, the SIM card removed and battery purposefully dead, but they never need to know that—and thought that Sam and Bucky would be able to find you if they needed you. They’ll look embarrassed and make a silent vow to each other that you’ll pretend not to see—swearing that they’ll never tell you how they almost called the coast guard in—and then everything will go back to normal.

If it goes the way you’re afraid of, that will be more complicated. You’re not entertaining that possibility with things like plans or strategies, because you simply won’t allow it to happen. This will work. You have the pen, the paper, and at least eight hours before Sam and Bucky grow a brain cell and figure out where you are.

Deep breath. The coffee in front of you is sweeter than you’d usually want it, almost sickly, but it can be a motivation. The coffee shop is crowded, and the tables are blue. You can smell the decorative roses on the windows. You can hear the music in your earbuds. The pen is heavy in your hands, but all that means is it’s real. And this is going to work.

List of Reasons to Hate Bucky-

You pause, and scratch out Bucky. It’s too intimate. You’re setting yourself up for failure.

List of Reasons to Hate James Barnes.

You have reason one locked and loaded. You’ve been rehearsing the whole list for a week—since the revelation that can’t be spoken of, because that will make it real—and you know half of your pre-planned reasons will drift into nothing as you go through the list, but at least you’ll have one.

It’s better than none of them.

You’re a little worried a hundred won’t do the job.

You have to try anyway.

1. He stares.

——————

You don’t know how you got here. Sitting across from Captain America, kicking your feet slightly and humming to yourself as he and his very angry looking sidekick glare at you.

It seems like a contest, trying to figure out who will break and speak first.

It won’t be you.

Captain America is out of his suit, and, logically, you know his wings won’t just spring out of his body. They’re mechanical, not biological. Part of you is still wondering—should you move suddenly and startle him—if he’ll squak and take off like a real bird.

He won’t, and you don’t think either of these men will find that as funny as you will. The Cap seems intently focused on trying to puff out his chest in his chair—like an odd sort of intimidation ritual or mating dance, done more on instinct than logic—and his sidekick is looking at you as if you’re the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen.

You’ve gotten that look before. It doesn’t shake you on his face any more than it does anyone else, but there is something… different. Most people will glare with that revolted look at what you’ve done, and for what expression, and it won’t sink deeper than your skin, because they don’t understand. They don’t know what the shadows and colder nights feel like, they don’t know how long you’ve been broken and alone, they don’t know that—whatever loathing for you has wormed its way into their heart—they don’t hate you. They hate what you’ve done, and they really don’t fucking understand.

This guy looks like he understands you perfectly, and it’s viler to him than anything in the world. Like he knows exactly who you are, like every marred and twisted organ is visible to his unwavering stare, and it’s the worst thing he’s even seen.

You’d laugh, if it didn’t cause an odd sting in your heart. Because you know who Bucky Barnes is. You know that any blood on your hands is mirrored on his, and if he really knows who you are, he’ll think better than to turn the violent glint behind his eyes into action.

Especially because you know he won’t hurt you. He can’t, but you don’t think he’ll even try. He’s cured. He’s free. He doesn’t hurt people anymore, and you’re technically a person.

You’re also starting to be incredibly certain that this is some sort of staring competition. There’s no other reason for the silence to be stretching on this pointlessly long. It’s a little amusing, how they seem to have started a game they’ll never win, but it doesn’t change what’s happening. You’re handcuffed to a chair in an unknown location, Captain America and the Ex-Winter Solider are trying to break you with only very angry expressions, and you could escape in a second but you’re bored, and you don’t care about winning, but you want them to lose.

And they do.

Because Captain America breaks first, and smile pulls at your lips that you don’t bother to hide.

“You know why you’re here?”

You shrug, keeping your voice bored and amused. “Should I?”

He blinks at that, looking over his shoulder at Barnes, and letting out a long breath as his companion just keeps glaring at you. “Buck-“

“Don’t say my name, dumbass-“

“She already knows who we are-“

“She hasn’t been in damn public for a decade, we don’t know what she knows-“

“Man, c’mon, Fisk has TVs.” Captain America rolls his eyes, and turns back to you. “You know who we are?”

“I don’t think so?” You look between them with your best, perfectly innocent and confused expression. “Should I?”

Barnes narrows his eyes, scanning over you with an unblinking fury that’s almost scary. Not quite, but almost.

“You know who we are.”

“I don’t think I do-“

Barnes scoffs. “Don’t lie-“

Captain America shakes his head, cutting Barnes off with a firm glare. “I dunno, man, you’re the one who said-“

“I know what I said, but- You’re really falling for that?” Barnes gestures to you with a scowl, and you give him a sweet smile in return. “She’s clearly lying, Sam-“

Sam rolls his eyes. “Who’s sayin’ names now, Bucky-“

You clear your throat, and they both look back to you with almost twin, venomous glowers.

“What.” Sam snaps, and you let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Do I have to stay tied to the chair while you two fight? Or can I go home?”

“Home?” Barnes gives you a pointed look. “You gonna head right back to Fisk, doll?”

You don’t answer, just shrugging and letting your smile widen, even as the thought of willingly running home to fucking Fisk makes bile rise in your throat.

Barnes holds your gaze with a glare. You don’t think you’ve seen him blink once. It might be the main thing keeping you in this chair.

You want to see what they have to say, and you’d really like to see if Barnes can blink, or if it will make his circuits fry and heart go into an arrest.

You get the former first, when Sam runs a hand over his face, leans forward in his chair, and mutters your name. Your real name.

He knows your name. That’s interesting.

“Look, we-“ He glances at Barnes—still glaring at you—and lets out a long breath. “We know who you are.”

“Oh?” You look between them will well-practiced, faux innocence. “Do you?”

“Fisk’s pet.” Barnes grunts, and Sam sighs again. He seems to do that a lot.

“I- Coulda phrased it better, but yeah. You’re his hit… woman.” Sam’s voice drops as he continues, watching you carefully. “Look, we got an opportunity for you. Help us bring down Fisk, you get a full par-“

“Okay.”

Sam frowns. “I wasn’t done-“

“I don’t care.” You shrug. “I’m in. Can you let me out now?”

“Uh-“

“That’s it?” Barnes cuts Sam off with a snap, his tone full of a disgust that’s a little dramatic. “You’re just- You’re gonna flip like that? No questions, no loyalty? Out of fuckin’ self-preservation?”

You snort, not bothering to sit up as you hold his gaze. “Of course it’s out of self-preservation. Would you rather I hold my moral high-ground and keep working for the evil crime lord? Would that be better for you? Cause I can flip back, you just need to say the word and I’ll go tell Fisk that Captain America tried to cut a deal with me-“

“Hey, no.” Sam holds up his hand, letting out a long, slow breath as he glares at Barnes. “C’mon, man, you know we get one shot at this, stop antagonizing her-“

“She’s antagonizing me.” Barnes mutters, and you scoff.

“You’re not the one cuffed to a chair, dipshit-“

“You-“ Barnes’ jaw clenches, and his hands curl at his side. Maybe he’ll punch you. That feels like it’ll help, somehow. “Sam, this cannot be our only option. She,” he gestures to you, and you wink at him. It doesn’t help. “Is not the only person in the whole damn city that works for Fisk. We’ll find another-“

“I’m the only person he trusts that will flip.” You hum. “Everyone else in his inner circle believes in the cause, or something. They love him, worship the ground he walks on. I’m the Stockholm puppy, they’ll never assume I flipped, and they’ll tell me whatever I ask because they don’t think I’d have this,” you give a vague wave of your hand in Sam and Bucky’s direction. “In me. I’m not just your only option. I’m your best option.”

There’s a long silence as they stare at you— incredibly uncuffed from the chair—and before Barnes can lunge at you with what might have been snarl, Sam stands up, shoves him away, and they exchange low, angry words.

You settle for examining your nails as you wait, and Barnes’ glare pushes right under skin and sticks to it. You don’t know how you know, but there’s a very certain feeling that for the rest of your life you’re going to feel a buzzing, electric heat under your skin that’s entirely made of James Barnes, glaring at you.

You really don’t think he can blink.

But you’ll have plenty of time to find out, because when they return it’s with the news that they’ve come to an agreement—more likely Barnes lost an argument, but you don’t really care—that you’re in.

Barnes won’t stop staring at you. And you could leave, if you wanted.

But you’re interested in seeing how this plays out. And Barnes may be rearranging every nerve point and organ in your body with only his attention, but that isn’t nearly as important as getting away from Fisk.

So you stare right back.

——————

Reason two is a little harder. You’d had it lined up as well, but it hurts to even think.

You have to. If you’re going to get through this, you have to write down all the reason, even if you’d punch anyone else square in the jaw for saying them.

Bucky doesn’t deserve this. You need to pretend he does.

For your own sanity, you need to pretend he does.

2. He can be an asshole.

You don’t make it three second before something rattles in your body, and you add-

But so can you.

——————

“You know,” Barnes drawls behind you, and it’s amazing how bad he can be at shutting up. This is supposed to be a stealth mission. He hasn’t stop talking to you since Sam put you two on a team and then fucked off to go fly around the warehouse. “The spider kid’s told us all about you, doll-“

“Parker?” You hum, and Barnes blinks.

There it is.

“How’d you- No-“

“I know Spider-man’s Peter Parker.” You give Barnes an overly sweet smile, and you’ve been their double agent for a month of back-alley meetings and careful exchanges in noisy rooms, but it hasn’t seemed to stop getting under his skin. “I’ve known for like, five years.”

Barnes shakes his head, as if he doesn’t believe you. Like you just somehow guessed. “But Fisk doesn’t-“

“I didn’t tell Fisk.”

You turn back to the path ahead of you, and you can still feel Barnes’ glower.

“You think you’re fuckin’ smart, kid-“

“Yes, I do.” You throw him another smile over your shoulder, and his glare deepens. “What did Peter tell you about me?”

“That you’re kind of a bitch.” Barnes grunts, and you roll your eyes.

“He’s just still mad I gave him a concussion.” You mutter. “I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to give him a fucking concussion-“

“I didn’t know how strong he’d be. It was new, I thought I’d just be breaking his nose-“

Barnes grabs your arm, yanking you back without warning and covering your mouth with a gloved hand, muffling your yelp.

“Be more careful.” He grunts in your ear. “Almost walked right into the open, you’ll get yourself shot.”

If you lean a little further back, your skin will touch his. Maybe he’d be stronger than Parker. Maybe you could hit hard enough to knock a new personality into him.

Because for the past week, Barnes has been a fucking dick. You understand not trusting you. It’s a reasonable conclusion to reach.

But he doesn’t listen. He shoots down all your intel and acts both like you’re a weak little child, and an atomic bomb set to go off any second. You’re neither. You want Fisk dead more than anyone, and you’re in complete control. If you weren’t, you would’ve killed him days ago, and never even fucking blinked.

It’s a testament to that control, that you shove yourself away from him without tapping into Parker’s strength. You could’ve sent him flying out the window, if you wanted. But you’re being diplomatic, and you’re trying to do the goddamn mission, so you don’t.

“Don’t grab me.” You snap, and Barnes scowls.

“I was helping you-“

“Did I ask you to?”

“No.” He narrows his eyes, taking a firm step forward until you’re almost nose to nose. “But if you die, Sam will yell at me. So be more damn careful.”

The staring contest lasts another minute before Sam’s voice crackles in both your ears, and you have to get back to work. By the time they’re fighting some of Fisk’s men—you’ve been, fucking stupidly, sidelined so as not to blow your cover—Barnes has called you incompetent in ten more ways. You’re too loud. Too smug for someone who’s not doing anything. You’re slowing them down, and he’s stuck babysitting you for your shitty intel—shitty intel that got them here, but he seems to be selectively ignoring that—and you’re too willing to kill people and run into fights with no powers.

He’s used that one a lot, after you’d convinced Fisk to give you a vacation and started to crash with Sam. Barnes has muttered countless times that he can’t believe you’re the woman everyone in New York is afraid of.

“Who says I have no powers,” you’d snapped after the third low comment, sprawled out on Sam’s couch and watching TV, and Barnes had rolled his eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready to prove you got some, doll, I’m ready.” He’d raised his brows in a silent challenge, holding your glare. “Until then, get off my couch.”

“It’s Sam’s couch. And I’m watching TV.”

“All you fucking do is watch TV, doll, can’t be good for you-“

“Aw,” you’d shot him another sickly-sweet smile. “The old man is worried about my screen time-“

“You’re hogging it.” He’d grunted, ignoring your teasing, and you’d flipped him off.

“Sam doesn’t have any good books, and I’m not allowed to have a phone. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

You’d won the argument. Barnes had circled back to you being a waste of space—and you were, but he didn’t know that—and not actually having any powers, so in your eyes, that meant you won.

Because you do have powers. You’ve been saving it for a good moment. Just to prove your point, you’ll use them in a way that blows his stupid fucking mind, and really makes him feel like a dumbass.

That moment comes when one of Fisk’s men is aiming a gun right at his back, he’s turning a little too slow, and Sam is all the way on the other side of the room.

You’re on the ceiling.

You drop down with the dramatic, fancy landing you’ve been practicing since you got skin-to-skin contact with Parker, and punch the grunt backward into the wall.

There’s a sickening crack sound from the impact, and it rattles over your ribs and skull. You memorize his face, and add it to your tally. Your graveyard. Another piece of you that will never get to be whole or clean.

When you turn back to Barnes, he’s staring at you, a look of borderline amusing confusion on his face.

“You-“ He glances up to the ceiling, and shakes his head. “You just fucking killed that guy.”

Your teeth almost snap in your mouth, and you feel a little bit of bile in your throat.

“Obviously.” You mutter, flexing your fist as you let Parker’s powers go dormant once more. “And it saved your life. You’re welcome.”

Barnes narrows his eyes. “I didn’t say thank you-“

“You should work on that, then.” You snap, storming past him as Sam wraps up the last grunt. “It’s rude.”

——————

Your coffee is finally finished, but it’s more bitter than normal on your tongue.

You think you might just miss Bucky, and it’s having a physical effect on your body.

You need to keep going.

3. He’s bad at using his words.

——————

You jump out of your seat when the book slams down in front of you.

“What the fuck-“

“Go read.” Barnes grunts, dropping down at your side. “My turn with the TV.”

You gape at him, not bothering to hide the slight amusement in your voice. “Your turn- Are you fucking five-“

“No. Read.”

“I-“

“Read.”

You scowl, and whack him on the arm with the book. “Stop interrupting me, Barnes-“

“Stop calling me Barnes,” he snaps your name in a mocking tone, catching your book before it can land on his arm once more, shoving it fully into your hands. “Go read.”

“I-“ You swallow, watching him wearily, hugging the book to your chest without thought. “What?”

His jaw ticks slightly. “Read-“

“No, why don’t you want me to call you Barnes.”

He’s silent for a long second, staring at the black TV screen with an unreadable expression.

“You call Sam his name.” He finally mutters, something bitter in his voice. “And the spider kid Peter. We’re supposed to be a fucking team. Use my name.”

You narrow your eyes. “You never thanked me for saving your life. Teammates thank each other.”

“That’s your thanks, genius.” He taps the book, still not fully looking at you. “Read it.”

He won that conversation. You don’t have a good response to that, so Bucky won. The asshole.

He buys you five more books in the next two weeks. One for every successful mission. And when you end up with a large gash on your leg, he half shoves you down onto the couch and kneels at your feet, patching it up without a word.

You don’t like the silence. It’s too heavy around your throat.

Only half a second later—like he can hear the stutter in your every breath—Bucky breaks it.

“You didn’t need to jump in front of me.”

“You were going to get shot, dummy.” You snap, crossing your arms and leaning back on the couch. “I did you a favor. Say thank you.”

He doesn’t. He won’t. But you know you’ll get another new book tomorrow, and that’s enough.

“Didn’t know you could get hurt.” He still won’t look up from your leg. “Thought I saw you get shot last week and walk it off.”

“I was ready for that.” You mutter, wincing as Bucky presses the rubbing alcohol to your leg. “This- fuck- I got caught off guard. Won’t happen again.”

He grunts, frowning at your leg. “You’re… selectively invulnerable.”

“If I chose right, yeah.”

That gets him to look at you. There’s the usual confusion clouding his eyes, along with… something else. Something deeper and vaster than the ocean, that’s almost jarring to see. Not frightening. Just different. Strange.

“What the fuck are you?”

His tone isn’t hateful. There’s a strange kind of light in it. Like awe.

Not awe.

But like it.

“I’m-“ You swallow, and you haven’t ever really explained it. Once Fisk made you, you just were. Once he figured out what you could do, it was all you did. Nobody asked. They never had to.

Bucky bows his head again, glaring at your leg as he speaks. “You don’t gotta tell me-“

“Shut up. I’m a mimic.”

He looks back up with raised brows, and you take a deep breath before you continue.

“Fisk created me. Partnered with some crazy scientists, saved me out of a home, and made me into his little pet hero. I can mimic anyone’s DNA, if I touch them skin to skin. It’s just- I only use it on superheroes. Otherwise it’s not really useful.”

Bucky glances down at his gloved hands with a small frown, then back to you. “You stick to the ceiling a lot.”

You nod, and shrug. “I’ve touched Parker, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s how I know who he is. I beat him in a fight, unmasked him, and he was-“ You swallow, a knot tightening and grinding in your stomach, and Bucky finishes for you.

“Just a kid.”

“Just a kid.” You echo. “Couldn’t kill him. Never want to kill any of them. But there’s-“

“Not a choice.” He mutters, and the strange thing in his eyes seems clearer. “Bite down on this.”

You blink at him. “Wha-“

Bucky shoves the glove from his flesh hand into your mouth, and starts the first stitch.

The next day, there’s a phone and a book waiting for you in the kitchen.

——————

It takes too long to come up with the next reason. You get lost in thoughts of how you’ve read that same book a dozen times, and you’d caught Bucky reading your annotations with adorable concentration only a few weeks ago.

He always spends more time reading your thoughts than the actual story.

And it had hit you then, too. You can’t think about that, because it’s making this impossible. You can’t think about how Bucky had fallen asleep reading your annotations and looked adorable, or how the phone he gave you is the same one on the table next you right now. How the case on it is the one you bought as he hung over your shoulder, muttering how phone cases were stupid.

You’d made him show you his phone, after he’d said that. The screen had been cracked and shattered, and it had taken a month to get him to buy another.

That can be a list point. You’re back on your game.

You almost write stubborn, but you substitute it for something stronger at the last second.

4. He can be controlling

You stare at it for a long moment, because something is off. Bucky can be controlling. He can man-handle you and order you around, his voice low and smooth and the intensity in his eyes a little dizzying-

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath. You messed up again.

Because you’re right.

But, fuck, it turns you on.

——————

“You need to stop fucking doing this,” Bucky mutters your name, his metal arm holding you in place as he pressed another round of rubbing alcohol over your gut. “One day you’re not gonna get lucky.”

You wince, but give him a weak smile. “I got shot, Buck, I wouldn’t call that lucky-“

“You got shot.” He hisses, scowling up at you. “Because you were fucking reckless.”

“I saved you-“

“That is not your job, kid-“

“Then stop almost getting shot!”

“I-“ Bucky lets out a slow breath from between his teeth, shaking his head slowly. “No. That’s my job. You’re not even supposed to be in the field-“

“But I am.” You snap. “And I’m not just going to let you get hurt-“

“You’re not letting me do anything.” He mutters, setting down the bottle as he moves back to the medkit. “You’re done in the field.”

You gape at him, the words too slow to sink it. Bucky said them too casually. He said them like they were his call to make.

“What the fuck are you talking about-“

“You’re not going out there again.” He grunts. His metal hand is still on your leg. “We’re almost done anyway. You’re best for intel.”

“Int-“ You cut yourself off with a scoff, glaring down at him. “You are not my boss, James-“

“No. I’m not.” His jaw ticks slightly. He still won’t meet your eyes. “But if I see you in the field again, I’m handcuffing you to your bed.”

He says that so easily, and a heat you have to ignore pools in your stomach.

“What the fuck are you talking about.” You hiss, leaning down to try and drag his attention fully to your glare. “I am not going to just sit at home-“

“Yeah.” He grunts, still not looking up. “You are.”

“I told you, you are not in charge of me-“

He snorts. “If I was in charge of you, doll, you’d be on full fucking lockdown.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean-“

“Don’t worry about it-“

“James Barnes. Fucking look at me.”

He tenses, and drag his eyes to yours as if the action pains him. “What.”

“I am going to keep working.” You hiss. “Because it’s my job. And if you’ve got a problem with that-“

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously I have a fucking problem with it. And I’m deadly serious,” he grunts your name, holding your gaze. “You try and go on another mission, you’re getting cuffed.”

“We’re so fucking close, you asshole, you don’t get to bench me now-“

“That exactly why I’m benching you-“

“Because we’re close? What, you worried I’m gonna flee the moment we wrap this up?”

If you were furious with Bucky, you’d be worried he was going to break his jaw. “No.”

“So it’s not because you don’t trust me?” You sneer, and he shoots you of a look practical shock.

“Of course I fucking trust you-“

“Then why Bucky?! You can’t just fucking bench me and not tell me why! This is my fight too, and if you think fucking handcuffs are going hold me-“

“I won’t cuff you if you listen-“

“I won’t listen if you don’t speak fucking clearly-“

“It’s- fuck- It’s because Fisk is going to know it’s you soon!” He roars, and you freeze. You’ve heard him yell before, but not like this. There’s something hot behind it. Something almost pained. “You know what he’ll do when he’s figures out where you went off to?! What you’ve been doing, that you’ve been working with Me and Sam?!”

“I-“

“I’m not gonna be the one they’re aiming at anymore, doll. And they’re gonna be shooting to kill. And what if I’m not fast enough?!” he squeezes your leg, his lips curling as his eyes dart down to the wound ripping open your stomach. “What if they’re shooting you, and you’re not ready, and I’m too fucking slow?!”

“Bucky-“

“I’ll fucking lose you.” He hisses, and you’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying. “I’m not fucking losing you. I only just goddamn got you, and you are not allowed to bail on me because you’re reckless and stupid.”

He finishes with a long, ragged breath, and you blink at him. Your skin is hot, mouth dry, and it’s as if you’ve been wandering in the desert for a million years.

You haven’t been, though.

But nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. With that fervorish awe, and unyielding fury like a tidal wave. Your hands feel clean. For the first time—maybe in years, maybe in your life—you don’t feel any small amounts of blood or grime under your fingernails. It’s that ocean, you think. The one trapped inside of Bucky, that’s slowly been flooding your senses over the past few months. A tide rising with every traded joke and shared book, every mission where he’d trusted you more and more, every story you’d told each other about the heavier, tainted parts of your shadows.

You move to touch his face without thinking, and his skin is soft. The stubble of his beard is almost grounding—a small, rough reminder that he’s changed since you met him, even if the only obvious part of that is the length of his beard—and he’s looking at you like he’s afraid. Parted lips and blown out eyes as his hand catches your against his face, holding it there as he stares at you with that same fucking awe.

“I’m not losing you.” He repeats the word like they’re a prayer. An oath. “I’m not fucking losing you.”

——————

You need to take a ten-minute break.

He hadn’t kissed you then. Fucking Sam had interrupted, because you’d been closer to the end than you thought you were.

Fisk had fallen the next week. He’d never know it was you until he was sitting in a cell, and you spoke to him through the bars.

That had been a… long and confusing day. Bucky had been waiting the entire time. He’d almost killed you the moment you walked out of the cell.

6. He’s bad at reading situations

——————

Your eyes sting.

You don’t know why you’d cried. Fisk had made your life hell. He’d ruined it, and you’d won, and you’d still cried for him.

“You were like a daughter to me,” he’d hummed your name, nothing but sheer fucking disappointment in his eyes. Like you’d failed him. Like he was more hurt for you than angred at your betrayal. “You know, I always loved you for exactly what you were. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You’d only swallowed, any sharp words dying in your throat as Fisk continued.

“Do you think the Winter Soldier will like the reminder? Of who he was before?” Fisk had shaken his head, and sighed as if he’d been mourning you. You’d almost thrown up on the tile floors. “No, not as you are. And you don’t change, my girl. You’re not meant for… soft things. You could’ve ruled the world and now… You’ll be nothing. Alone.”

You’d found the words to cut back, somehow, but you don’t remember them. You only remember the knot in your stomach and bile in your throat.

You hope you’d held the tears until you were hunched over the toilet. You’d only just managed the vomit.

And you hadn’t reacted, when Bucky had come up behind you. You want to think it was because you were off your game.

It was probably just because it was Bucky.

He’d held your hair from your face. He’d rubbed your back with the metal hand, and it had eased your breathing too fast. And when you’d finally sat up, he’d pulled you into his chest like you were something delicate.

Fisk’s words are too loud in your head. Your voice, when you finally speak, is too soft.

“This is the women’s room, Buck.” You mumble, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”

“’S fine.” He shrugs, the movement shifting you slightly against him, settling you more comfortably in his hold. “You’re here. This is where I’ll be until someone moves me.”

You hum, pressing your face to his shoulder, as if you can’t fucking help it. “Miss me that much?”

He grunts, and you could swear you feel him nod. “Needed to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, and when you lean back, he’s staring again.

You think he’s going to rip you apart. At least then, maybe, he’ll keep some of you in his pocket. A little bit, to always be held like this.

“Bucky-“

“Go on a date with me.”

——————

Number seven is easy. Number seven flows right off of six, because you’d said yes like you were only breathing—even as all the air in the world became too thin, and you almost passed out from the branding focus of Bucky’s gaze—and Bucky had grinned like he’d never seen the sun before, and now it was shining just for him.

It had been cute.

Too many parts of Bucky could be cute.

7. He can be unbelievably sweet at the worst possible times.

——————

You’re going to strangle him.

The date was perfect. Horribly perfect. Impossibly perfect. Fairy tale, romance movie, only-exists for valentine’s day propaganda perfect.

Bucky bought you flowers. A big bouquet of yellow roses, because he knows how much you both hate red. You went to a fancy restaurant, and walked in the park for five hours just holding hands like idiots, until he was spinning you around and swaying you in his arms, and you were giggling.

You don’t giggle. You didn’t even know you could make that sound.

But Bucky had guided you through a romantic, smooth dance—his body warm around yours, nothing to see you in the dark but his bright eyes and the slowly clouding night sky—and you’d giggled. He’d smelled like pine aftershave, a deep, slightly spicy cologne, and something earthier that was just Bucky, and you’d giggled.

You’d been vulnerable. In public, in the dark, in the open. But Bucky had been there, and there had been a secure feeling over your skin like the sky could split open with fire and hail, and you’d be alright. Bucky was there, so you’d always be alright.

And you’d giggled.

It was dangerous. It was dangerous when he’d kissed your cheek after handing you the flowers, standing in your doorway as if you didn’t fucking live together. It was dangerous when he held your car door open, and when he helped you into the seat at the restaurant. When he took your hand like touching you was the most natural thing in the world, and started to dance as if that had been what he’d been planning to do the whole time.

Given the small smirk on his lips when the first giggle had escaped you, it might have been.

But the most dangerous thing had been when it had started to rain, and he’d picked you up. Hauled you into his arms without a grunt and run you into an all-night coffee shop, keeping his body folded over yours as if you’d melt into a puddle if he didn’t shield you from the world.

You’d found a little table, ordered some drinks, and lost track of time.

He was so handsome, with messy, wet hair and eyes bluer than the rain could ever hope to be. He was warmer than the heater of the coffee shop.

You knew he’d taste better than the small scone he’d bought you, too.

And then again, like he could read your fucking mind, he’d shaken his head.

“We’re not doing that tonight,” he’d drawled your name, grinning at you from across the table, and you’d blinked at him.

“I-“

“We will.” He’d shrugged. “Trust me on that, I’ve- Shit- We will. But not tonight.”

You blinked at him, shaking your head slowly. “Bucky-“

“We’re not fucking, doll.”

And now you were here. About to kill him.

“I never said we were-“

“Didn’t have to.” He shoots you a wink, bumping your knee with his under the table. “Saw it all over your face, baby.”

“You-“ You swallow, and he can’t fucking do that. It’s not fair. He can’t say no sex tonight and then wink and call you baby. That’s not fair. “I- Why?”

Your words are almost a whine, and Bucky’s grin widens. It’s too adorable, too gleeful and affectionate, and his knuckles are brushing against your hand and he smells so good-

“I want that to be its own thing. This is our first date. We’re doing number two because this was fun and we,” he gestures between your bodies, watching you carefully. “Work. Not cause I fuck you until you can’t walk.”

He finishes with a shrug, and even though he’s still grinning—he knows exactly what those last words did you to, the asshole—there’s something firmer in his voice that tells you he’s being serious.

That’s annoying. And sweet. So fucking sweet.

So you let it go.

“Aw.” You give him a teasing smile, pressing your thighs together to relieve just a little bit of your need from his attention. “You think we work?”

“Yeah. I do.” He’s staring at you again. You might have started something you can’t finish. “Do you?”

You swallow, and lying feels pointless. You’re trapped. He’s handsome and amazing and he’s not going to fuck you, but he promised he would later, and you’re trapped.

“Yeah.” You whisper, and you don’t know when you started holding his hand again. You don’t really care to let go. “I do.”

——————

This isn’t working anymore.

All you can think about is how that might have been the moment. The one where something sparked and grew and razed through your body, reshaping your organs and tissue to all mold a little better for Bucky. He’d said I do like it was the easiest thing in the world. Less of an answer to a question and more of a statement.

There had been a finality to it. Like that was all he’d ever have to know again. You were all he’d ever have to know.

He’d made promises and kept them. You’d remained warm every time it had stormed, and through the following winter, and it was because that had been the moment and this strategy isn’t fucking working.

Bucky had told you later, and now that later is all you can think about. Bucky is all you can think about, and every single thing you cast to mar the picture of him in your head just makes it stronger. Makes every memory sharper, every thought of Bucky in your head more beautiful.

8. He’s perfect. It’s impossible.

——————

You don’t know exactly how you got here. There were flowers involved, and a dark theatre, and Bucky had whispered something low in your ear that made you gape at him in the dark, and then he’d kept his hand on your thigh the rest of the night, and the whole world had become unbearable hot.

It’s only a haze now. A big, warm haze that’s cooled by one metal hand on your hip as you burn and burn and burn, and Bucky hasn’t even done anything yet. But he’s been teasing you. Keeping you pinned cruelly under his body for what feels like hours, kissing and sucking over your neck and slotting his knee between your thighs, letting you grind against him and pull at his hair until you were whining for more, you need more-

“Think you can take more, baby?” He murmurs against your lips, and you don’t know if he’s doing the anticipating thing again, or just teasing you a little more. “You even know what you want?”

He uses your responding moan to push his tongue down your throat, kissing you heavy and long and deep.

And Bucky’s kissed you before. A lot. There had been one, world-making kiss that had grown into an addiction, becoming kisses in the corner of every room and against the wall of every hallway, into the cushions of the couch until Sam groaned and walked away—promising to never come over for movie night again—and right up to every edge, but never further.

Bucky seems to be under the impression that he needs to be a gentleman. That there needs to be a right moment to stop pulling away with heavy, shallow breaths, swollen lips, and flushed faces. That he needs written permission to go further.

You’d given him that permission this morning. You’d slid him a small paper over the counter, and when he’d read it, he’d raised his brows at you in amusement.

“This says fuck me.”

“Yep.” You’d hummed, holding his gaze as you’d taken a large bite of your banana.

It had been a warfare strategy. It had seemed to work then—his eyes had darkened, nostrils flaring and fist closing around the paper as he stared at you—but you know it’s worked now.

Because this kiss is different. It’s another, newer tidal wave that’s all thirst. Desire.

Need.

Bucky’s holding himself by a tether. You can feel it when you bite his lower lip, he groans down your throat, and his hips jerk forward.

“You’re- Shit-“ Bucky grunts as you suck a small, dark mark on his jaw. “You gotta be sure, doll, I can’t-“

“I’m sure.” You whisper, leaning back to hold his gaze. He looks almost nervous, and it makes your brow furrow slightly. “Buck, are you-“

He crashes his mouth back down to yours, his metal hand playing with the hem of your skirt.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” He mutters, pulling back to scan over you once more. “I’m- If we’re doing this, I’ve gotta be- I need to-“

“I know.”

He blinks at you. “You do? How- Sam.”

You giggle slightly at Bucky’s violent glower—you’ve been doing that a frightening amount lately—and raise a hand to trace over his jaw.

“He says he- uh- Heard you. Once. Months ago. And it’s okay.”

He shakes his head, still watching you with that caution. “I- It doesn’t have to be, doll, I know that your past isn’t all sunshine and daises and bein’ in control either-“

“I- I’ve had to do most everything for myself. For survival.” You whisper, tracing your thumb over his cheek. “I’ve never had- I trust you. And with what Sam mentioned-“

“Gonna fuckin’ kill him-“

“I don’t think it’s as dramatic as you think.” You finish, ignoring Bucky’s muttered threat.

His jaw ticks slightly, his words suddenly so low you can barely hear them. “If it’s too much, you gotta tell me-“

“I can take it.”

Bucky sighs your name, and you shove his chest. Not hard. Enough to move him. Jolt him. Make him look at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“You-“

“I can take it, Buck.” You grin at him, raising your brows pointedly. “I’ve got you.”

His eyes widen as he understands—you’ve got him, his strength and durability mirrored in your body—and there’s a slight shift in the air. It’s hot. Everything is suddenly so hot under Bucky’s attention, expect for the cold, metal hand, trailing under your skirt and cupping you over right over your aching pussy.

“Fuck, you’re wet, doll.” The awe has creeped from Bucky’s eyes to his voice. You can only grind against his fingers teasing over your slit, and moan when a metal thumb starts to rub firm, rough circles over your clit. “And no panties on? All fuckin’ night, just waitin’ for me?”

“Yes,” you moan, our hips jolting when he pinches your clit lightly, a high whine leaving your throat. “Bucky-“

“That’s my name.” He mutters, resting those two fingers right against your pussy, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re already so wet, I wonder what’ll happen when I do this?”

With that last word, Bucky slams the metal fingers into your cunt, and starts to finger fuck you like it’s a mission. It’s so fast. Metal whirring in your ear as the pace becomes impossible and mind-numbing, hitting you so fucking deep, almost massaging and taunting at the sensitive spot, and it’s only just started but you’re already going to explode-

“Bucky-“ You moan out his name, trying to somehow meet every thrust of his fingers with your hips, but only managing to grind your clit against his wrist and sending your brain into a dizzying blur of pleasure. “God, I- Close, Bucky, so close-“

“Hold it.” He grunts, not letting up pace, and you almost whimper at the idea. “Need you to hold it for me, baby, can you do that?”

You can’t.

You nod anyway, because Bucky’s still here, still holding you and touching you and looking at you, so you have to try. For Bucky, you need to try.

“Good girl.” He mutters, and you clench around him with a squeak. “Oh, you like that? Like me talkin’, tellin’ you how good your doing-“

“Oh- Fuck-“ You gasp, your back arching off the bed as he somehow hits deeper. “Please, I- God-“

He hums, dropping his weight slightly to keep you pinned to the bed. “Say my name, doll.”

“Buck-“

“No.” His voice is slightly softer, and he leans down to hover his lips right over yours. “Other one.”

“I-“ You take shallow breathes, each one rounded with another moan as you search Bucky’s face for the answer, and his fingers never slow their movements. “Please-“

“C’mon, baby, you’ve got it-“

“James!” You half scream it, writhing under him in desperation for release, and start to repeat it like a prayer as his eyes shine in approval, and his cock twitches against your thigh. “James- James please, I- I need it- Need you-“

He swallows your words with another deep kiss, squeezing your hip with his free hand as he mutters against your lips.

“There you go, babydoll.” He smirks at your whimper, his eyes trained on yours as you give him another, pleading look and whisper of his name. “Cum for me.”

The sound that leaves you is undignified, needy and loud and made of slurred curses and shouts of James. But you can see the stars, and feel them bursting through your body, and it’s all just good.

When you come down, Bucky’s brushing your hair from your eyes, looking down at you with that same wide awe everywhere over his handsome features.

“Was that good?”

You hum, still panting heavily, and he raises his brows.

“More?”

You nod a little stupidly, and Bucky’s grin splits his face.

“Already so fucked out you can’t speak? Haven’t even pulled out my cock yet-“

You moan into his mouth at just the word. “Bucky, please-“

“Please what?” He pulls back entirely, and chuckles when you slam your hand into his chest with a glare.

“Hey-“

“You gotta tell me what you want, babydoll, and I’ll get it for you. But,” he raises his brows, catching your hand when you try to shove him once more and pinning it over your head. “I’m not a mind reader. Tell me.”

You think that’s a lie. You think he can read your mind, and he’s just being mean.

But God, it’s so fucking hot. His shirt is gone—you don’t know when that happened, but you’re not complaining—and he’s looking at you like you’re art, laid out for him to see and touch and have, so you’ll play along. If it will make him finally fuck you, you’ll do whatever he asks.

“I want your cock.” You whisper, holding his gaze. “Want you to fuck me, and I’m clean and on the pill, so I want you to cum inside of me, then leave it there. Wanna feel you tomorrow, James, please.”,

Bucky’s throat bobs slightly, his voice becomes barely a growl.

“Jesus Christ.”

He seems to be done talking after that.

Your hand stay pinned over your head as he rips off your shirt, then his own boxers. There’s a half-grumble of buying you another bra tomorrow, but it’s all you get before he’s ripping that off as well.

When he lines himself up at your entrance, he pauses, giving you one last chance to shove him away.

You tangle your hand in his hair and shove his lips to yours without hesitation, moaning his name into his mouth, and it’s enough.

Bucky slams himself into you with one thrust, diving his mouth to suck and lick at your nipples as you gasp, adjusting to the feeling of him inside of you.

It’s perfect. Big and thick and full, you feel so full, and you’re going to fly out of your skin if he keeps flicking his tongue over your nipple like, throbbing inside of you but not moving-

He can definitely read your mind. Before you can even moan a plea, Bucky starts to drill into you without warning, and any noise turn into more of those loud, desperate pleas.

It rough. Bed creaking and skin slapping, and he keeps tossing you around like no angle is deep enough, flipping you over to fuck you from behind so his balls are slapping against your clit and he’s kissing up your spine, before he’s hauling you up to his chest, wrapping his arm around your stomach to hold you still as he drills up into your cunt, and biting and marking along your throat and jaw. You throw your head back on his shoulder, and he captures your lips in a long, searing kiss, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

Then you’re back on your stomach, with his weight completely covering you and his grunts right in your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

He pauses only for a second there, thrusts slowing as he grabs at your hips, and before you can ask him if he’s okay, if it’s too much or—worse—not enough, you’re moving again.

Bucky rolls over, tossing you up onto his lap so you’re grinding down onto his cock, and this is it. You can see it in his hooded, satisfied expression as he watches you bounce above you, his flesh hand wrapping around your throat the metal moves to your clit, rubbing small, furious circles as he groans your name.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your every word choked as he pounds up into your fluttering, aching pussy. “I- James-“

He grunts, pressing harder as his dick hits that deep, sensitive spot inside of you. “Come on, babydoll, gotta gimme one more-“

This orgasm washes over you like a wave. Deep, easy pleasure that makes everything glow, lingering in your body long after Bucky gives one last, jagged thrust up into your pussy, cumming with a roar of your name.

You both stare at each other for a long second as Bucky releases your throat, his fingers tracing over the marks left by his grip with a furrowed brow, and you smile at him.

His release is dripping down your thighs as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

It’s somehow not enough, and still more than you could ever ask for.

And your smile is a little cock drunk and there’s light bubble up your throat, but you don’t care.

So you giggle. Airy and blissful as Bucky rolls your bodies over so he’s on top once more, and you bury your face in his shoulder.

He rises over you on his forearm, raising his brows as you smile up at him. “Somethin’ funny?”

You nod, your giggles almost pathetic. You don’t really mind. “Told you I could take it.”

He sighs, but the grin on his face matches yours.

Wide. Stupid.

Happy.

“Yeah.” Bucky mutters, tracing slow fingers only your cheekbone, and the awe seems to be a permanent addition to his voice. “You did.”

——————

When you get back to your table with ice water, people are staring at you. Whispering.

It’s not in your head. You know the difference between paranoia and caution, and this is the latter.

You scan over for an easy target, and land on a skittish looking man with large arms and a gym bag. When you stop at his table, he looks like he’s going to pass out.

“What’s your name.” You keep your voice cool and even, and he swallows.

“Mike.”

“Awesome. Can I please have your phone, Mike?”

He nods, unlocks it before passing it to your hands, and you give him a sweet smile before you scan over his screen, and let out a long sigh.

Sam abused his power. You’ve been declared a missing enhanced. The city hasn’t been barricaded, but everyone in New York knows to be looking for you, and expect Captain America upon response.

You pass Mike his phone back with another grimacing smile, and stalk back to your table and notebook.

9. He can be really fucking dramatic.

——————

You don’t know how Bucky puts up with you. He’s clean. Neat. Does all his dishes and folds his laundry, vacuums the floors and straightens every picture when he fucks you a little too hard against the wall.

You’re… not.

Taking care of yourself has never been important. Never been allowed. Fisk had men who cleaned up after you, because your priority was walk around and be feared. Be the untouchable princess.

Untouchable princesses don’t clean up. Once, at the beginning, you’d tried to help the crew after a particularly messy job.

Fisk had been furious. You’d gotten blood on his favorite toy.

You’d stopped trying to clean up after that,

But Bucky never gets angry about it. He’ll wipe your face when you get sauce on your cheek, change your sheets—even though you haven’t slept in your own bed for months—every week, and do your laundry, all while never asking for anything in return.

This is another night where you don’t understand him. He made your favorite food, even though he had the long day. He’s not meeting your eyes again, but you’ve learned that he only does that when he cares. When there are things inside of him he can’t work out how to say, so he’ll keep his gaze averted like he’s trying to shield himself from being seen.

He isn’t aware he does that. You only know because you know him. Because he sits across from you like this every night, and wakes up next to you every single morning, and presses his brow to yours—keeping his eyes closed, but his hands on your face delicate—every single day. He’s with you all the time, even when he’s across the city, so you know him and you-

“Move in with me.”

You blink at him in the low light of your shitty dining room. It’s all plastic table and fold-out chairs, because neither of you are good at having nice things and keeping them.

He might be the nicest thing you’ve ever had.

You don’t understand what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“I- We should move in.” He pokes his plate, frowning at it like he can will it to understand, and explain to you properly. “Together. You and me.”

“Buck, we already live together-“

“In a shit apartment Sam found us.” He grumbles. “In two separate bedrooms. With plastic furniture and a dead plant.”

You sigh. “I told you I’m not good at plants when you got it. I wanted a cat, but-“

“Our lease doesn’t allow it.” Bucky shoots you a pointed look, leaning further over the table. “If we moved in together, I’d get you that cat. I’d get you whatever you wanted.”

“Bucky-“

“Fresh start.” He grunts your name, and you swallow. This is a little stronger than the awe gaze. This is borderline hope, and it’s so rare on his handsome face, and he has you folding for him in a second, but he keeps going anyway. “You and me. We’ll get a nicer couch without any blood on it, and eat off plates that aren’t paper, and- We can get the cat, or two cats- fuck, twenty cats-“

A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “Twenty is a lot, darling-“

“Then one. One is good.” He has the solemn, focused gaze and tone he uses when he’s planning a mission. He’d stood up and crossed his arms. This is serious. “No more plants. I can- Sam will help me build all he furniture, I’ll get you a desktop, and I can have the smaller one, cause you always get annoyed when I break it-“

“It’s called a laptop.” You offer, keeping your voice softer than you’ve ever been capable of with anyone else. “And I don’t get annoyed-“

“Yes, you do. ’S fine, I deserve it-“

“No, you don’t-“

“That’s not the point, doll-“

“It’s important to me.” You snap, and that gets him to stop. “You’re important to me, and I don’t get annoyed. It’s not your fault your bags are always getting smashed-“

He scowls. “I’m the one who smashes them.”

“Because other people are fucking idiots, and you’re good at your job. You don’t deserve me being annoyed, and I’m not, because you’re-“ You swallow, words you don’t fully understand yet getting caught on the edge of your tongue. “You’re important to me, Buck. You’re a good man. You deserve good things.”

He blinks at you, and the hope is almost a tangible, touchable thing on his face. “Move in with me.”

“You already asked me that-“

“Please.” He mutters, and suddenly he’s on his knees before you, his arms around your waist as he stares up at you. “Wherever you want. It’ll be ours, and I’ll keep it clean if you make it beautiful.”

“Bucky-“

“You- fuck-“ He drops his brow to your lap, and you’re trying to tell him yes, but he seems to be trapped in his own head. All you can do is run your fingers through his hair and let him ride it out. “You make everything so beautiful, you just- You- Please. I’ll never ask ya’ for anything again. Move in with me.”

“Okay.”

He blinks up at you with wide eyes. “I- That’s it? Just like that?”

“Yeah.” You smile at him, and it’s hurting your cheeks, but it’s the best pain you’ve ever felt. “You gonna let me up now?”

He nods slowly, but pauses before he stands, and throws you over his shoulder without warning.

“Bucky-“

“C’mon,” He start to move towards his bedroom, ignoring your squirming. “You’re- Got plans for you, babydoll.”

“We have all night, you dramatic asshole-“

“You love it.” He mutters with a squeeze of your thigh, and you have to stop pounding on his back to moan. “And if it were up to me, we’d never stop doin’ this. Never gonna waste one fucking second with you. Ever.”

——————

He’ll be here soon. Someone will have had the balls to report where you were, Bucky will burst through the doors, and you’ll have to know that this didn’t work. That you probably drove him insane and beat your heart to sinew, only to come out of this knowing that you failed.

You have your answer, and it’s the one that’s terrifying. The floor could open into a trench, and the sky could catch fire, but that would be easier.

This is new. This is dangerous and frightening and new, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because you failed. There are no paths forward that you know how to follow, no corners of the world you can hide where you wouldn’t find yourself crawling back to Bucky.

And he’d meet you halfway, because he’d be looking for you, and then he’d pull you into his arms you’d be safe.

Safe and cared for and clean, and awfully, greatly in love.

10. You love him, and that’s not fair.

——————

He sleeps peacefully now. At your side, on the memory foam mattress you made him pick out, wrapped around you like he’s trying to pull you into his body. The sheets are tangled and smell a little like sweat and cum, but nobody seems to mind. Even Alpine has settled at the foot of the bed, on Bucky’s side, because she likes him better.

Of course she likes him better. You picked her because she has the exact same blue eyes as he does, and you feed her, but she likes him more because he’s Bucky.

And this suits him, far more than you think it could ever suit you.

Because this is what he would’ve been. If Bucky had never fallen off that train, he’d have simply been this.

Happy.

Peaceful in the soft, golden-white light of the morning, holding a perfect, faceless woman. She’d clean up after him, and make him food that didn’t taste like ash. He’d never have the nightmares that still sometimes rock him now, but he’d have worse nights—he’d still been a solider, still fought a war—and she’d only give him comfort. Never demand it in return, nights later when she woke up screaming.

And she’d have less opinions, and never make him worried because she kept getting shot, and she’d giggle all the time. Not just when he pried it out of her with dancing and fucking.

She would’ve been easy. She wouldn’t have made him read with her, and she would’ve let him get twenty cats.

You hate her more than anything.

But it would’ve been what Bucky deserves. Has always deserved.

The exact same one you don’t.

You never would’ve been here. Fisk found you in the dirt, and you hadn’t been a lovely, blooming beam of sunlight before he turned you into a weapon. Bucky had earned all his sneers and snarks and scowls.

You’re just like this.

And you somehow have him, in a way you can’t lose. Won’t lose. You’d do anything for Bucky, you’d kill and maim and scratch and scream and rip yourself to fucking pieces just for him, before stitching yourself back together with your heartstrings, because they’d still be beating in a sound like his name, because you-

No.

Oh no.

That can’t be right. You don’t- you’ve never had that. That’s too good.

You don’t deserve that.

You’ll break it.

——————

You wait outside for him. Bouncing on your feet as people shoot you odd looks in passing. You expect sirens. Being turned over and checked from every angle, because this had been a really stupid thing to do when you were you. A problem. An asset until you flipped. An enemy so easily, and an insufferable ally to have.

Bucky still puts up with you. But you think he knows you’d never flip on him. He trusts that the same instinct that made you run from Fisk is the one that will always send you back to him.

It’s been nine hours, and you miss him like you’re drowning. Like you can see the sun, right above the surface, but you can’t remember how to go up.

You can only drift, and wait for blaring red lights that will carry you home.

They never come. And when you feel a tap on your shoulder you don’t flinch, because you know that tap anywhere. The pressure and shape of the finger, the exact placement near the cartilage, always leaving a slight brand of his touch.

“What’re you doing, baby.” Bucky mutters, and you let out a long breath, turning to give him a weak smile.

He’s staring again.

You love it when he does that.

“Hi,” You whisper, and he drops his brow to yours for a long second, right before pulling you right into his chest without a second of hesitation.

You’d thought he’d be angrier. You’re a little sick of being wrong.

“Why-“ He takes a heavy breath, squeezing you a little tighter. “You wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“I turned it off.” You mumble. You don’t think you can stand to lie to him like this. You’ve already done enough. “I- Can we go inside, please?”

Bucky leans back with a tight frown, scanning over you once more. “Did something-“

“I’m okay.” You duck your head back into his chest, and you understand why he never meets your eyes in moments like this. It’s far easier. “I promise. I just, this will be easier if we sit down, please.”

You can feel him tense against your body, but he guides you inside regardless. Right back to the table you’d been at before, even if he doesn’t know that.

People might be staring.

You don’t really care. You don’t have the energy for it. Everything has to go into this. Into telling him before it’s too late, and you either lose him or, worse, he stays. He keeps tolerating you, not knowing that you’d grow a forest on the moon if he asked—just to hide somewhere safe and quiet, together—and turn the sun into something portable for his back pocket, just so he’d never have to fear ice again.

Bucky says your name slowly, glancing around the shop. “Is this where we had our first-“

“Yeah.” You fumble with your bag, your hands already shaking slightly, and Bucky notices.

Of course he does.

Perfect fucking asshole.

“Are you sure you’re okay, cause I can make Sam call 911 again-“

“Don’t make Sam call 911.” The paper is crumpled, and ripped at the corners. It will have to do. “I’m okay. I- I’m going to be okay.”

That last one is mostly for yourself—no matter how fast Bucky leaves, no matter how much your heart screams, you’ll be okay—but he still hears it, and his frown deepens.

He grunts your name, leaning forward in his seat, and you shake your head.

“Just- take this.“ You slide the paper across the table, watching sleek, black fingers rest on the edge, but not tug it further. “Please.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but he listens. You look up just in time to see him scanning over your words, and the lump in your throat might choke you.

At least it will be over quicker.

“What is-“ He cuts himself off, and you can’t look away. It’s worse than a car crash. It’s a missile, hurdled straight for your head as you’re rooted in place, bracing for the impact but knowing it will tear you apart all the same.

You know the moment he reaches the last point. His eyes widen, and flick up to you in disbelief.

He reads it three more times before he sets down the paper, and maybe the lump in your throat is your heart. Maybe it’s trying to beat out of your body and run in the gutters, before it can be broken and shattered and-

“You-“ Bucky places the paper flat on the table, and points to that like. “Is that- You mean it?”

You nod weakly, still starting at his finger on the paper—it might be one of the last part of him you get to see, and you’re trying to memorize it—and Bucky clears his throat.

“Can you look at me?”

It takes a second. Ragged, slow breaths and Bucky’s knee, bumping yours under the table.

But you do.

And he’s still so beautiful.

You can see the awe in his eyes. It shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t- not now-

“I love you, too.” He says, and it’s more powerful than the missile. It’s an atomic bomb. “You’re- It’s the only thing I’ve really known, since I got back. You’re the only thing I’ve known-“

The world is starting to sting and blur. Your heart is trying to claw out of your throat. “Bucky-“

He shakes his head, pushing on. “Listen to me, doll, for once in your damn life. I love you. No one but me talking, telling no one but you, I love you. I have been to fucking hell and back, I’d do it all again, every damn time, if there was even a chance it would get me here.”

“That’s- That doesn’t make any sense-“

“Course it does.” He shrugs. “I’m not the me that loves you if I don’t fall off that train and end up in the future.”

“It’s not the future-“

“It’s the future to me-“

“James, we are not having this argument again. It’s not-“

“Is to me.”

There’s that rare, small grin he saves only for you. This is cruel.

“You- I’m not worth hell.” You whisper, and you’re holding his hand. You don’t know when that happened. You’re not strong enough to pull away.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Bucky, I’m being-“

“I know you’re being serious, doll. So am I. And I know I’m,” he taps the paper, giving you a pointed look. “Bad at using my words-“

You swallow. “I’m sorry, I-“

"You’re not wrong.” He mutters, still all but trapping his gaze on yours. “But I got words for this, baby. I love you. Hell and back.”

“Bucky, you don’t-“

“What, love you?” He raises his brows. “You somehow miss that part of my shitty ass speech-“

“It wasn’t shitty-“

“Kinda shitty. Didn’t seem to get through to you.”

“I-“

“Just- Listen.” He leans forward, still holding your gaze. “Would you do it again?”

“Do-“

“Would you walk through your hell, Fisk and the scientist, Parker and that asshole with the horns that made you blind for a week, Sam and me and all the court trials, if you thought we’d end up back here, at this horrible fucking coffee shop, one more time?”

“Yes.”

It’s not a question. You’d do everything, every time, the exact same way, if it meant you’d maybe get Bucky one more time.

And that’s mirrored on his face. Smug, quiet satisfaction as he grins at you, and shrugs.

“There it is.”

You return his smile because it’s easy. You keep holding his hand because he’s not letting go, so you’ll never even bother to try.

You echo his words because he’s right. Maybe the only right thing in the whole universe, right across the table, touching you, and all yours.

“There it is.”

End Note: Love throwing in a bunch of tiny easter eggs for purely my own entertainment. Also love throwing a little plot relevant smut in there, as a treat.

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shoukokus · 24 days ago

Note

Yuu that ends up dying their hair but it comes out looking like Jade and Floyd. But their not mad and joke that Yuu is their triplet now and take it as more reason to get him involved with their business.

Yuu mafia boss when?

jade leech x prefect x floyd leech (semi-platonic)

It was an accident, you swear. When a hair dye kit showed up at Sam's Mystery Shop, emphasis on mystery because the color wasn't shown, you thought it'd be fun. Harmless! You'd dyed your hair before, it was just self expression, but this? This was going to be catastrophic.

"Okay," Ace was pacing restlessly back and forth as he spoke. "Maybe you just skip today, that way, they can't even see you?"

"We have a test today!" Deuce argues, but he's just as nervous as his dorm mate. "They can't skip... But maybe you can take it and run?"

"Or ask Crewel to let you take it at home!"

"Guys," you finally speak up to stop their endless fussing. "I don't think we have many options here. We just have to be normal, and deal with them if we have to."

Both boys paused as they considered your words. Then Deuce says with a heavy sigh. "They're going to kidnap you."

Hours later and you had managed to avoid the twins so far. Luckily you had no overlapping classes or break periods with them today. The hood you wore between was able to hide you just a tad, in case you ran into them in the halls. Because you see, the "fun" and "harmless" hair dye had ended up coloring your hair exactly like the Leech twins. The pair already endlessly teased you and flocked to you like moths to a flame. They were general menaces on campus, but your circumstances made you a particularly fun target for some reason. And now? Looking like this? You had given them fresh ammo.

You thought you had been doing a good job of avoiding them thus far, you think as you sit along the wall and read a botany textbook. But when a certain presence overwhelms your senses, and the hood on your head is yanked off, you suppose it's your time for the afterlife.

"Oh?" A familiar drawl is heard behind you. "What's this?"

"Ahhh! Shrimpy!" Floyd leans down from over your shoulder, a dangerously amused smirk on his face. "Did you do this just for us?"

"N-no." You snap your book shut, and put a few steps between you and them. "It was an accident."

"Hmm," Jade hums. "I don't think I believe that. Do you, Floyd?"

"Nope!" Floyd gets close again. "I think Shrimpy wanted to be like us!"

"It was a mystery dye kit!" You insist. "I just did it for fun."

With a curt nod, you take your leave, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as possible. Strangely, they don't follow. Normally they're persistent and never seem to run out of things to say. Now they hang back, and the air is thick as you can only imagine what they're plotting.

"Very interesting." Jade places a hand on his chin, sharp teeth on full display as he grins. "It makes me quite eager to speed up our plans."

Floyd is still watching the direction they left in, hands behind his head. "I knoooow," he drawls. "We should just grab 'em already."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #jade leech #floyd leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

Note

Imagine jealous!sharon want to get you out of the way so she can be with Bucky…

She hurts you (even it’s like a bruise) and Bucky begins to be so protective of you 🥺🥵

ABSOLUTELY.

I'm imaging this with a soft sweet reader and fuckboi Bucky. Hear me out, okay.

He's not looking for a relationship at all, finally feeling a sense of freedom after getting a bit of himself back. He's so flirty with everyone, so charming, he knows he can get whoever he wants.

He fucks.

A lot.

Sharon eats it up, loving the smirks he gives her, his playful baby blue eyes always sparkling. She loves the naughty way he bites his lip and don't even get her started on how gorgeous he is when he works out shirtless. His Brooklyn accent comes out when he calls her darlin' and it makes her weak in the knees.

There's just one issue.

The looks he gives Sharon aren't special. She's not the only one he calls darlin', even the old lady at the coffee shop shares the same pet name. Bucky can't help the little smirks he tosses around to others, flirty compliments naturally falling from his lips. He's a bit of a heart breaker but it's who he is.

That's just Bucky.

That's Bucky with everyone else.

Then there's Bucky with you.

The quite lab assistant who worked at the compound.

He didn't have it in him to playfully flirt with you when you asked about his day. He actually liked talking to you, finding any excuse under the sun to keep the conversation going, poking at the little nick knacks you have on your desk so he doesn't have to leave so quickly.

Sharon hates the way he looks at you. Whenever he's around you, he looks at you with puppy eyes as if he's wondering how someone so sweet could possibly exist. She catches onto the way he's not the same with you as he is with others. He's called everyone in passing darlin' with a drawl of his voice but you're his doll. He's never used that with anyone else. That's reserved just for you.

She can't stand it.

At first she tries to pick you apart in subtle ways' maybe you'd finally realize you had no business talking to someone like Bucky.

"You're so pretty even though you wear glasses"

"Don't worry, that dress would still look good on your body type, its meant to suit everyone"

"I wish I was as brave as you to wear that! I'd love to have that much confidence but I could never"

She smiled sweetly while you pulled your lab coat closer together, clutching it tightly in your hand. Your heart sank to your stomach. You'd worn one of your favorite dresses, one many others had always said you looked perfect in but some how Sharon made you doubt that, despite her sugary smile.

Then she took it a step further to make sure you were more isolated, insisting you'd be uninterested in plans when the team wanted to go out. Purposely giving you extra work when they had drinks together. Anything to keep you sad and holed away in your lab while she kept Bucky all to herself.

She'd do anything to get rid of you.

She was almost certain everything was going accordingly to plan, inching closer and closer to Bucky during a movie night until she was pressed against him, sharing his blanket. Not that Bucky noticed since he was more distracted over the fact that Sam was also squished against him on the other side of the small couch. Sam was also buried under the now too hot blanket, his deep snores irrupting the movie having fell asleep on Bucky's shoulder.

"Damn bird brain" Bucky huffed, ignoring the fact that he pushed Sharon off while reluctantly adjusting himself so Sam's head wouldn't slip, shaking his head when Sam grumbled, trying to snuggle into Bucky more.

"Bet you wish that was y/n, huh" Tony wiggled his eyebrows and much to Sharon's distain, Bucky blushed. Not did he deny it.

It didn't matter though. She'd find a way to get Bucky's attention, it wasn't like you were real competition anyways. She figured you'd have the sense to like someone better suited for you, someone in your league, definitely not the very handsome Sergeant.

That was until she found out you had a crush on the super soldier yourself. You'd let it slip out during a conversation with Nat, not realizing there was someone near the lab. Sharon didn't think you actually had a chance with Bucky but it didn't matter.

At this point she didn't care about what it took.

She was sick of the way Bucky was soft over you.

So she took a more direct approach.

"Y'know, I heard someone has a little crush on a certain super soldier" Sharon smirked, wandering to your table, tinkering with one of your tools while you looked at her like a deer caught in head lights.

How did she know?!"

"I-I don't-

"Oh please y/n, everyone knows" the blonde rolled her eyes at your gaping mouth before continuing, "I just thought I should let you know that he's not interested"

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach, the hurt expression on your face made her satisfied,.

"Oh" Was all you mustered out, embarrassed beyond belief while she shrugged. You blinked back tears while Sharon squeezed your shoulder out of faux concern, handing you a tissue.

"I'm so sorry, honestly I just thought you should know because he likes me. And I like him. So it would be best for you to move on, because were seeing each other" It didn't matter if it was a lie because she intended on making it real soon enough.

From that day, you avoided everyone in the compound like the plague, throwing yourself into work, feeling ridiculous for having even thought of Bucky that way. Of course he'd never go for someone like you, you should've known that from the start.

Sharon's plan was short lived after she overheard Bucky worriedly asking Tony about where you'd been all week since he hadn't seen you. After some endless teasing, Tony reassured him you were fine and just busy with lab work, not knowing the true reason as to why you'd overloaded yourself.

Sharon despised the pink that decorated Bucky's cheeks whenever someone said your name.

She hated that she'd seen him walking by the lab hallway in search of you.

She'd do anything to end all of this.

Including hurt you.

You made your way down to the gym hoping to sweat some of your unrequited feelings away, putting on your headphones before hopping on the treadmill. Sharon walked in moments later, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, her toned body on full display in nothing but a sports bra and some tiny shorts.

You felt even worse.

You tried to stay hidden, deciding 15 minutes would be enough, though your escape was cut short with Sharon caught your arm just as you were about to leave.

"How about we spar for a bit" She smiled sweetly, giggling at your confused expression. You'd never sparred in your life, in fact this was probably the third time you'd even used the gym the entire time you'd lived at the compound.

"Sharon, I-I don't think that's a good idea, I've never-

She cut you off, dragging you to the mat, practically shoving you to the middle with more force than necessary.

"It's fine! I mean, it's good for you to learn since you work here n'all C'mon, I'll help you and show you what to do" Before you could say anything, Sharon had flipped you onto the mat, twisting your arm behind your back without warning. You gasped in pain as she gripped harder, pulling further up your back until she heard your joints crack.

"Let-let go" You winced out, confused over what part of sparring this was, your body hitting the floor when she released her grip.

"Ops" Sharon pouted with faux innocence, taking a long sip from her water while you hissed in pain, seeing the formation of a bruise already forming on your arm.

"SHARON"

Sharon squeaked in surprised at the loud voice that boomed through the gym, bouncing off the walls. Her eyes shot up to see a very angry super solder making his way over to the mat, eyes darkening as they landed to your injured form on the ground.

"What the fuck did you do?!"

"Bucky, we were just-

"Don't" Bucky growled through gritted teeth, rushing over to your side, and slipping his arm around your waist.

"Angel, are you okay?" He cupped your cheek, helping you to your feet and taking your hand in his, examining it with the utmost care. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"M'all right" You nodded, your face heating up under his gaze, still a little shaken, your body trembling.

"How the fuck could you hurt her" Bucky spat, his metal hand clenched to his side, itching to punch Sharon in the jaw, having seen what she had just done but he didn't want to deal with the mess that would come afterwards. "The hell did you do that for"

"Excuse me? I was just showing her how to-"

Bucky's jaw clenched, instantly shutting her up. He refused to let go of you, keeping you firmly tucked into his side, growing unbelievably protective over you.

"Fine, go ahead, I'm sure she's different from all your other little side pieces" Sharon scoffed, smirking at the way your face fell. Bucky felt like he'd been hit in the chest; you were far more than any of his hook ups and he'd never considered treating you that way.

"You. Don't. Touch. Her" He glared her at before walking off with you. After the incident, Bucky insisted you go to the doctors to get checked over, waiting outside of the room like a kicked puppy. He couldn't help but feel guilty that all this had happened because of him. He also wondered that you thought.

Did you think he'd just use you for one night?

He would never.

He knew he wasn't into dating. He gave up on the dream of getting married, having kids, all that years ago. But that was before he met you. Ever since you'd thrown him a shy smile along with the softest hello Sergeant Barnes, Bucky had been a goner.

If his feelings were was bad before, it was even worse now.

You were told to ice your arm for the pain and swelling. Bucky had swept you away right to the kitchen, despite you telling him you'd be fine, plopping you onto the kitchen island wrapping an ice pack in a towel. He held it to your arm, frowning at the way you refused to look at him, your face downcast to the floor.

"Doll?" Bucky wrapped his arms around you for a comforting hug, wondering if the altercating with Sharon was still upsetting you, "Are you okay sweets? I missed you, haven't seen you in ages"

"I-I'm fine, I'm sorry" You pulled away from his arms, remembering Sharon's words from earlier, instantly missing the warmth of his body. "I know you don't feel the same way Bucky" You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

Bucky blinked in confusion, having no idea what you were talking about. What did he not feel the same way over.

"What do you mean y/n"

"I mean I like you-but I know you don't like me that way so I kept myself busy so I wouldn't bother you because Sharon said-

"Wait, slow down, what did Sharon say"

You sighed before recounting all the things that had lead to this moment, Sharon insulting you, then telling you to back off, to straight up fighting you.

"Oh doll" Bucky shook his head, feeling worse over what had happened but over the moon over your confessed feelings, "She's right you know," He teased at the pout that made it's way to your lips before playfully pecking them, catching you by surprise.

"I don't do relationships. Certainly never had before. That was before I met the sweetest thing in the world and she's had my heart since" Bucky whispered, his hands, one warm, one cool cupping your cheeks, "She has me dreamin' of sayin' I do and that white picket fence, a ring on her finger, a pretty little baby bump with flowers on the window sill. Maybe a baby boy n' a baby girl. Maybe even a cat. She's the cutest little lab assistance and I'd love for her to be my girl, sweets"

Bucky held your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing over your warm cheeks while you grew bashfully shy, burying your face into his chest instead, making him chuckle.

"I didn't think you were the relationship type" You shrugged, toying with his dog tags, "I'm not you're darlin' Bucky"

"That's cause you're my doll" Bucky tilted your face up making you look up at him, his lips pressing the softest kiss to your nose and then your lips. "My one and only doll"

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reader-wandering18 · 8 months ago

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Yuu Professor

In the staff room, Yuu leaned back in his chair as he sighed deeply.

—I see you’re too tired, Professor Yuu.

— Professor Trein.

— He’s the youngest of us all, try not to intimidate him, Professor Trein.

— What are you trying to say, Professor Crewel?

Yuu felt like he was in the middle of a clash between two mountains. He was afraid his life would end before he even started at that school.

— Come on, get along, we have to make a good impression on the new teacher!

Professor Vargas had arrived, grabbing Yuu by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a tight hug as if they were old classmates. Although with his large muscles, Yuu felt suffocated.

— If you need anything, you’re more than welcome to come to the Mystery Shop. We have great promotions this year.

Sam handed him a business card.

Professor Crewel was right when he said he was younger than all of them, he was only 27 years old and to top it off… he had no experience in being a teacher.

“It was all because of that incident”

While he was undercover due to his previous job, he was caught in the crossfire between two strangers. Both of them were apparently killed and to top it off, one of them was the new teacher at Night Raven College that year who was mistaken for him.

He had no intention of entering that school and taking that teacher’s place.

When he was ready to escape, he found himself in the school surrounded by a magical field with no way out unless he asked the headmaster for permission.

If he speaks now, he would get into big trouble and have charges like identity theft, possible murder (when he didn’t) and if they were to investigate further…

“Two years, my contract period is only for two years”

Nothing bad could happen.

He would like to kill his past self.

— RIDDLE!

A case of Blot had appeared in front of him.

And soon, a series of them in that prestigious school.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?!”

Yuu activated a magic shield to protect himself and the students.

Riddle’s blows were fierce, clearly aggravating his anger at the moment, causing the earth to tremble… But the shield showed no signs of breaking.

“That damn crow had said he would bring more teachers, but he hasn’t returned for a while now!”

All the students had evacuated, except for four stubborn young men.

— WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? Get out of the dorm immediately!

— I can’t do it, Professor. I can’t leave Riddle as he is now.

— I refuse, he still hasn’t apologized to me!

“These damn proud brats.”

— Worrying about you shortens my life,— he said in a whisper.

— Don’t leave the shield or I will punish you!

— Professor!

Yuu stepped forward, holding his staff firmly, the wood looked ancient, there was also a design made of pure silver with complicated runes, the magic gem was on top with an exquisite crimson hue.

The moment he stepped out of the magic shield, air bullets pierced the rose bushes leaving nothing but small pieces resembling toothpicks.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

Riddle was shocked by the speed at which the master had released the magic. He hadn’t uttered a single word or seemed to have hesitated when it came to making projectiles with the air element!

The strength of the magic power they released could be compared to the cannons of a warship.

— It’s incredible.

Yuu walked towards Riddle with his head held high and only one thought in his head.

“ You are too young to waste your life”

Riddle came back to his senses, thanks to Professor Yuu's intervention. He was taken to the school infirmary after waking up and talking to everyone.

Though Ace, seeing him cry, could only behave as Ace would.

Seeing that moment of conviviality between students, Yuu decided to take a step back and leave that dorm. His rush to flee was also to avoid cleaning Heartslabyul's dorm, which had practically been left in ruins because of him.

"I'm really tired, let the students take care of it."

After a week, in a lonely classroom, Yuu found himself grading his students' homework.

"How can this guy be in charge of teaching him at three years old?!"

The identity he had accidentally taken was not only that of a teacher, but also that of a high-level magician. If anyone else who hadn't studied magic as exhaustively as he had, they would be in serious trouble.

But this coincidence sent shivers down his spine.

That guy, despite being a high-level magician, has no family or friends who can get him into trouble if they see him. Also his age and appearance.

It was as if the role was made for him.

Knock knock

Yuu was startled but didn't show it, his eyes went to the classroom door where he found three students from Heartslabyul. One of them was holding a strawberry cake.

— Teacher, may I come in?

— Clover, Diamond, and Rosehearts. Come in.

With magic, Yuu arranged all his documents and before he could ask the reason for his visit, Riddle put that strawberry cake in its place.

— This is a thank you for helping me.

Seeing the shiny cake in front of him, Yuu couldn't speak for a moment.

— As an educator, I must take care of my students. You don't need to give me a strawberry cake.

— Come on, teacher, the dorm leader made it with so much effort for you!

— Carter!

Riddle scolded the blonde haired boy, though seeing the blush on his face was not something he could hide.

—This is a cake I made as an apology for the trouble I caused. Before the no unbirthday party, I want you to be the first to taste the cake.

Hearing those words, Yuu couldn’t help but look at Riddle tenderly. The overstain is caused by the negative feelings of wizards. It’s something that simply can’t be controlled and he was burdened by his past.

“I still feel a little uneasy knowing that I was able to see his past. It’s really strange.”

He cut the first piece of cake and as he brought it to his mouth.

“This is really salty!”

Hahahaha here I leave you another part of Master Yuu living with heartslabyul, there will be more interactions with the other students, I hope it is to your liking.

PD information: In order not to make Riddle feel bad, Yuu did not tell him that his strawberry cake was too salty. So that was how Ace along with Deuce, Trey and Carter ate the other cakes that he had made beforehand. Yuu couldn't throw away the cake so he endured having to eat it.

One more thing, I probably won't upload anything in the next few weeks, more than anything unfortunately I'm a student so right now I'm full of projects. I already have the two chapters of Darkness ready as well as more ideas of Yuu from other worlds but honestly they don't convince me so I haven't been able to upload them and I also don't have time to edit them but in my free time I plan to move forward.

Slowly but surely.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst yuu #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland yuu

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itsmywritingtime · 1 month ago

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One-Sided Competition 💴

Catching someone’s stare from across a crowded room was typically romantic. A sign of some sort of affection, that out of everyone, they were choosing to put their focus on you.

However, the look in Ruggie’s eyes was anything but.

You searched your mind for anything you could have possibly done to upset the boy. When you couldn’t identify anything, you shrugged it off and bit into your sub.

The cafeteria ghosts had given it to you after you had struck a deal. You helped them unload and package food and they would give you a little extra during lunch. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the most balanced deal, but you would take whatever was given to you. And these sandwiches were quite delicious, so it was all worth it.

Ruggie had been having the worst month of his life.

It was normal for him to be spending his free-time taking up random jobs around campus for a little extra cash. However, in the last month, it seemed like the amount of opportunities dwindled.

It had first started when he went to Sam’s Shop. Sam had gladly accepted him when he asked for a side gig. Yet, he rarely if ever got a call. If he ever worked it was only for a few hours at a time and sporadic at best. The employee discount was barely worth it.

Annoyed at his lack of hours, Ruggie had paid Sam a visit. It was a Sunday afternoon, one of the busiest days of the week. Everyone tended to gravitate towards the shop on that day, gathering last minute supplies for a project, buying groceries for the week, and everything of the sort. To his surprise, there was no packed shop like there typically was.

Meandering his way in, he was even more shocked to see the store almost empty. A customer walked past him as he peeked at the cashier, expecting it to be Sam, but it was you.

You greeted the next customer in line with a smile, making small talk, and sending them on their way in record time. Ruggie could only silently stare.

So this was the thing taking away all his hours.

“What can I get for you for you, Little Imp?” Ruggie almost jumped as Sam appeared behind him.

Sam didn’t like loiterers, so hesitantly, Ruggie bought the cheapest thing he could find and made his way over to you.

And damn. As much as he hated to admit it. You were good.

Though, that was okay. He had other opportunities.

Azul had never failed to set Ruggie up with work. They worked quite well together after all.

But, whenever he was called in to work, you were always there.

It was almost like a switch flipped after Azul’s overblot. Going from enemies to employer and employee without any pause.

Perhaps that was why Azul kept you around, with a handful of overblots underneath your belt, you knew how to navigate difficult situations and be innovative when dealing with rude customers.

Whether it be a busy evening or a slow weekday. You never failed to be in a Octavinelle uniform, serving and taking orders with a smile. He started to dislike that bright smile of yours.

The students of NCR were very stingy when it came to giving tips. Whether it was because the students did not have enough money to hand over any tips or they simply were asses, it was overall rare for him to get a thaumarks that weren't from the paycheck that Azul gave him. His reputation didn't do him any favors.

But even so, it seemed like you never left a shift without a few extra thaumarks in your pockets from patrons that took a liking to you.

Azul, being the shrewd businessman he was, took notice of your success in the waitering area of your expertise.

Ruggie couldn't call Azul out due to his lack of evidence (and he couldn't afford to lose the gig), but he swore that the housewarden favored you in some sort of way. Furthermore, the two morays tended to flock towards you one way or another.

It had hit Ruggie early on that you had somehow managed to have a emptier schedule than him. He still had spelldrive practice and errands for Leona to deal with, yet it seemed you were freer than a bird after classes ended for the day.

Well. That was fine. There were other opportunities outside NRC.

Ruggie didn’t make a habit of searching for work outside of the school ground, there was typically nothing available, but when push comes to shove!

Craneport wasn't as popular and bustling as it used to be, but there had to be at least one opening for him, however infrequent it may be. Anything would be good!

A cargo ship was pulled up to one of the docks. He could see a few workers coming and going, picking up and moving creates. He could feel a grin growing on his face at his luck. Ruggie wasn't exactly the most physically strong, but he was almost positive that they would take a spry student like him (that they could pay a little less), over any older guy.

As he took a step toward the ship, another person emerged, carrying a wooden crate almost twice their size.

Ruggie felt his composure snap.

YOU WERE HERE TOO?

The crate was placed down with a 'SLAM'. You huffed and wiped your forehead with the sleeve of your forearm. You looked up, observing your surroundings, you thought you had felt someone looking at you.

Must have been your imagination.

Ruggie stomped back to the bus stop, fishing around his pocket for some loose change.

In the time it took him to make his way to the stop, he had already made up his mind.

If it was going to be like that, so be it. He was not unfamiliar with competition. This meant war.

⋆

So back to present day, there he was, making this one-sided war known, by staring daggers into the back of your head as you, blissfully unaware, ate your lunch.

He fully intended on winning.

TLDR: Two poor people compete against each other rather than the system that put them there. sigh… /j

Note: This is my first time writing Ruggie like ever. But practice makes perfect!

#Twisted wonderland #Ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucci X reader #Ruggie X reader #itsmywritingtime

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moonferry · 9 months ago

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OKAY here's part 2 of the "how the stardew marriageables would feel to hug" once again will be in alphabetical order !!

bachelorette version HERE

the bachelors (and krobus)

alex: alex loves working out and is obviously very strong. with this in mind, i think he'd be another person who accidentally hugged far tighter than he meant to. his hugs feel like sitting in a reclining chair - like one of the demo ones at a furniture shop. despite how tight he hugs you, you find yourself relaxing into him. plus, i just think it would be nice to bury your face in his chest, alex gently rubbing the back of your head and you telling him about your day. i think alex would smell like leather and maybe musky cologne. a bit more overpowering than the rest (his smell literally latches onto you, your clothing, or even the air around you.) it's not a bad scent tho, just very "masculine" in a way?

elliott: elliott's hugs are lovely! i imagine he has the softest hugs of all the marriageables (likely do to the copious amounts of skincare products/lotions he purchases, but that's just an added bonus.) hugging elliott would feel similar to hugging a silk pillowcase: nice, soft/gentle, and an overall enjoyable experience. elliott's hugs are the perfect "i just want a simple hug right now" kind. i imagine he'd enjoy wrapping his arms around your waist and complimenting you as the two of you hugged. elliott probably smells like an inkwell, with some pomegranate and maybe some ginger (and the ocean, of course!) very light and fruity (honestly you might steal his cologne a time or two.)

harvey: the man who brought this entire spiel to life.. harvey definitely gives the best hugs. his hugs feel like being wrapped in a comforting blanket or feeling the wind gently blow across your face as you sit outside and watch the sun set. i've mentioned this before, but i think harvey loves back hugs. something about having his arms wrapped around you, drawing small shapes on your stomach, and gently kissing your cheek just draws him in. i imagine harvey smells like coffee, a warm chocolate cake, some sandalwood and fresh pine. his hugs are perfect for when you both need to unwind after a stressful day. something about them (maybe it's his doctorly aura) makes your body feel calmed, like it's being healed in a way. legend says that harvey's hugs tend to have healing properties so 👀

krobus: he doesn't exactly have arms, so hugging you back isn't an option. at least not physically, that is. he somehow manages to transmit the feeling of hugging you into your mind and it causes your skin to tingle. however, if you were to actually hug krobus, i imagine it would feel similar to hugging a stuffed animal or a mystical cat. i imagine krobus would be very soft (possibly fluffy!) and his little wisp at the top of his head would rest against your shoulder. as for smells, krobus is a bit difficult. (obviously, coming from a life in the sewers, it's not going to be the greatest thing to smell) HOWEVER i imagine he would smell like black cherry or the "black ice" car air freshener.

sam: oh sam gives amazing hugs. unlike alex, sam crushes you on purpose. he's just very excited and full of love - he needs to share it by squeezing you until you pop! (not literally, of course). i think it's primarily a case of "cuteness aggression" where he just gets so overwhelmed with positive emotions from seeing you that he has to let them out by hugging you tight enough to crack a rib. you don't mind though, and even joke that he could take up practice as a chiropractor because, after hugging him, your spine always seems to become board straight. i imagine sam smells like strawberries, soda, and the beach, maybe a slight hint of desert mist. i like to imagine he also uses his height to an advantage and often picks you up when he hugs you, probably spinning you around as well.

sebastian: another one who i don't think is much of a hugger, especially if he doesn't know you that well. if he does warm up to you, though, he prefers side hugs or he prefers to be the one being hugged, not the other way around. full contact hugs always result in awkwardness and he'd rather avoid that. his hugs are a bit "colder" in a way and usually are finished within a few seconds. it's not that he doesn't like you, he just isn't a big fan of physical touch. however, if you decide to hug him, he will happily lean against you for as long as you want him to. if you drape your arm around his waist and let him lean into your side, his head on your shoulder, he may end up falling asleep. (yoba knows he needs it...) i think sebastian would smell like the outdoors: like a smokey campfire, like peaches, like the crisp, fall air, and faintly like motor oil.

shane: oh another amazing hugger. shane's hugs are very pillowy and sweet, also slightly addictive. it's very easy to sink into him and enjoy the moment. on the other hand, i feel like shane also enjoys being hugged. he loves having your arms around him, your head resting against his chest or shoulder (or in between his shoulder blades if you're back hugging him, this one's a real favorite). bonus points if you trace shapes onto his stomach or lower back, he goes crazy for that sort of thing. (but he'll never admit it, obviously). i like to imagine shane smells like cherry cola, maybe something outdoorsy or something light (ie body wash or soap). i don't think he would go out of his way to make himself a certain way. however, i do think it's hilarious that he has that line of dialogue where he's like ""Sniff*... *sniff*... mmm... what's that wonderful fragrance you're wearing? Eau de pepperoni?”" <- goober.

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nickistuffs · 3 months ago

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Almost, Maybe

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: Harry struggles with his growing feelings for Y/N as an evening with their close friend Sam makes it difficult for him to navigate

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None. It's Angsty

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

Harry didn’t know why he agreed to this.

Well, he did. It was because you asked. And how could he say no when you had looked up at him with that hopeful smile, your hand lightly tugging on his sleeve as you said, “I want you to meet Sam properly.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He wasn’t even sure why it did. You and he had been spending so much time together lately—dinners that stretched late into the evening and walks through the park that felt stolen from a different lifetime, conversations that made the world outside seem a little quieter. It was easy and natural, and he liked to think that it meant something.

But now, sitting across from you and Sam in a small café, he felt completely and utterly out of place.

The two of you were seated next to each other in the booth, your bodies angled ever so slightly inward. The air between you was filled with a kind of familiarity that made his stomach twist—like he was intruding on something he didn’t quite understand.

You were laughing at something Sam had said, your hand brushing against theirs as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. But Harry had never seen you like this before—not with him.

"She wasn’t like this with me."

Not the casual touches, not the way her head leaned on Sam’s shoulder as it had always belonged there, not the way her eyes softened when she looked at them.

Harry shifted in his seat, forcing himself to tear his gaze away before the bitterness in his chest made its way to his expression. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he had no claim over you, no right to feel this slow-burning jealousy creeping up his spine.

Calm down. Sam is the best friend. Nothing else. Right?

He picked up his cup, letting the warmth seep into his palms before speaking, keeping his tone as level as possible.

"So, how do you two know each other?"

The question came out smoother than he expected as if his emotions weren’t threatening to spill over.

Sam took a sip of their coffee before leaning back against the seat, completely at ease.

"We had a technical drawing class, and I was a hopeless case. Y/n, being the nicest person alive, saw my suffering and helped me get a passing grade."

You giggled, nudging Sam playfully. "Hey, you were great."

"Yeah, between the two of us, your grades were better," Sam shot back with a smirk.

Harry’s grip on his coffee cup tightened.

The way you laughed with Sam—it was different. The two of you shared a history, a connection that didn’t need words. You had always been warm, always kind, but with Sam, it was something else entirely.

Something he wasn’t a part of.

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever have.

The café buzzed softly around him, the scent of coffee lingering in the air, the sound of distant conversations filling the spaces between your laughter. But to Harry, everything else felt muted.

His thoughts were drowning in the realization that maybe—just maybe—he had been fooling himself.

That all those stolen moments, the quiet smiles, the lingering glances… they had meant something to him.

But had they meant something to you?

Harry swallowed thickly, setting his cup down a little too carefully. If you noticed the tension creeping into his shoulders, you didn’t say anything.

And that, somehow, made it worse.

Harry blinked, pulled from his thoughts as Sam’s question settled between them.

"I mean, I knew I gave her the gig for your pop-up shop last month," Sam added, stirring his coffee. "But how did you two meet?"

You turned to Harry, waiting for his answer with an easy smile, but he hesitated for just a second too long.

Finally, he exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "It was at an art market near my place," he said, fingers drumming lightly against the table. "I was just passing through, wasn’t planning on staying long, but—"

"But you did," you chimed in, tilting your head playfully.

Harry’s lips quirked up at the memory. "Yeah. I saw your work, and got curious." He paused, then, with a small smirk, added, "And you wouldn’t stop talking about the piece I was looking at."

You laughed. "Because you were staring at it for way too long! I had to check if you were okay."

Sam chuckled. "Let me guess—he brooded over it like it held the meaning of life?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "Something like that."

"And he even complimented my artwork," you added, nudging him slightly.

Harry met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. "I meant it."

The words came out softer than he intended. And for a second, the rest of the café faded into the background.

Sam, oblivious, simply grinned. "Well, guess I have you to thank for finally getting her to work with you, then."

Harry forced a chuckle, tearing his eyes away. But as the conversation continued, he found himself stuck in that moment—back at the art market, where he first saw you.

And back to now, where he realized that maybe he had never really looked away.

The conversation continued as Harry, Sam, and you swapped stories, but your phone buzzed in your pocket just as the mood started to settle into a comfortable rhythm.

You looked at it and saw the name flashing across the screen. A quick, apologetic smile passed your lips as you reached for your phone.

"Sorry, guys, I have to take this," you said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

Harry tried to mask his curiosity, but the furrow of his brows betrayed him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice a little tighter than usual.

You nodded, though there was a slight hesitation in your gaze. "Yeah, just my mum," you assured him, offering him a smile before stepping away to take the call.

Sam shot Harry a curious look as you walked off, phone pressed to your ear.

"So..." Sam began, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "You two seem pretty close. How long has this been going on?"

Harry stiffened, unsure how to answer. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight in his chair. "We’ve known each other for a while," he said, keeping it vague. He didn’t want to give too much away—especially not with him, all too aware of the tension brewing beneath the surface.

Sam raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling into a knowing smile. "I can see that. But I guess I’m curious... is there more to this?"

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, trying to maintain his composure.

"I’m not sure what you mean," he said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

Sam chuckled as if he could sense Harry’s discomfort. "I’m just saying, it’s pretty clear you two have something going on. Don’t try to act like I don’t see the way you look at her."

Harry’s pulse quickened, his mind racing for the right words

"I’m not sure what you mean," he said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

His throat tightened. "She’s just… a good friend," he muttered, even though it didn’t feel entirely true anymore.

Sam’s smirk faded into something a little more thoughtful. His voice lowered again as if the shift in mood had made him reconsider his words. "You know," Sam said, glancing over at you talking to your phone, "back in uni, I had feelings for Y/n. We were close… but it wasn’t the right time. She never really felt the same way. I could tell."

Harry looked at Sam, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected confession. Sam had always been friendly with you, but hearing him talk about this other side made Harry pause.

Sam continued, his tone softer now, more serious. "She wears her heart on her sleeve, you know? She tried to love before, really tried, but after that... she closed herself off for a while. It took a long time for her to open up to people again."

Harry felt a pang in his chest, the words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder about the past you hadn’t shared with him, the part of you that had been guarded for so long. Was it something he could ever break through?

Sam caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes a mixture of sincerity and something like brotherly concern. "So... just be gentle with her, alright? She’s been through enough. And if you care, don’t rush things. Let her take the lead on this one."

The weight of Sam’s words hung in the air, and Harry found himself swallowing down the lump in his throat. He glanced at you again, his gaze softening as he noticed how relaxed you were, and how easy you made everything look.

You weren’t the same as the person Sam had known in university. You were different, stronger now—but Harry could see that same vulnerability beneath the surface, the one Sam had been talking about. And maybe... just maybe, he had a chance to be part of the one who helped you heal.

Before he could say anything, Sam’s tone shifted, more lighthearted again. "But don’t worry, mate. You’ve got a good chance." He winked at Harry and took another sip of his coffee.

You, meanwhile, had finished your phone call, your focus back on the table. Your smile flickered in Harry’s direction once more, and though it was soft, it was enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

He wanted to be gentle with you. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to make you feel safe again. Safe enough to open up, to trust him.

...

You smiled apologetically as you sat back down, tucking your phone into your bag. "Sorry guys, my mum just wanted to greet me. So, what did you guys talk about?"

Sam, always quick with his teasing, smirked and looked at Harry before turning his attention back to you. "You, duh, what else?" he said playfully, raising an eyebrow as if daring Harry to say something.

Harry froze for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly around his coffee cup. Sam’s words weren’t helping with the tension that had been building up between them. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh it off or just brush it aside, but the way Sam was looking at him made it hard to ignore.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Really?" you chuckled, glancing between the two of them. "Come on, you’re not trying to make him uncomfortable, are you, Sam?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning. "I’m just saying, Harry’s been quiet. I was making sure he was still awake."

Harry couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Yeah, I’m here. Just... listening."

You smiled, clearly relieved by his response, but Sam’s teasing wasn’t letting up. He shifted in his seat, looking at Harry with a knowing grin. "Sure you are, mate. Just listening, huh? Or were you too busy thinking about something else?"

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks again, but he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. "Alright, alright, I get it," he said, trying to play it off as casually as possible. "You both have no shame."

You rolled your eyes at Sam, but there was a softness in your expression as you turned back to Harry. "Honestly, don’t mind him. He’s always like this. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him."

"Hey, hey," Sam protested, raising his hands defensively. "I’m just looking out for you, Harry. Gotta make sure you’re up to speed, you know?"

The tension between the two of them was starting to ease, but Harry’s mind kept drifting back to what Sam had said earlier. He couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was more going on between him and you than he’d originally thought. But for now, he let it go, deciding to enjoy the evening.

And for a moment, all the awkwardness between Harry and Sam seemed to disappear as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, with you guiding them through the evening. Still, Harry couldn’t help but wonder where things might go from here—especially now that Sam’s comments had planted a seed in his mind.

...

As the evening stretched on, the café’s soft hum settled into something quieter, more intimate. The three of you had been talking for over an hour now, but eventually, Sam glanced at their watch and let out a sigh.

"Well, this has been fun," Sam said, stretching their arms lazily. "But I should probably get going. Got an early start tomorrow."

You pouted playfully. "Already? You barely even finished your coffee."

Sam smirked. "I was too busy entertaining you two to drink it properly."

Harry chuckled, but a strange relief settled in his chest. Sam had been nothing but friendly, but their presence had been a quiet weight pressing down on him, an unspoken reminder of something he couldn’t quite name. Now, with Sam leaving, the air between you and Harry felt suddenly charged, a thread of something unspoken stretching between you both.

Sam slid out of the booth, grabbing their jacket. "You two enjoy the rest of your night. And Harry?" They clapped a hand on his shoulder, voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. "Don’t overthink too much, alright?"

Harry blinked, but before he could respond, Sam was already turning back to you with a grin. "Text me later, yeah?"

"Of course," you said easily, standing to give Sam a quick hug before they waved and disappeared through the café doors, leaving behind only the soft jingle of the bell.

And just like that, you and Harry were alone.

The absence of a third voice made it impossible to ignore the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. You shifted in your seat, looking at him with a small smile, but Harry couldn’t miss the way your fingers toyed with the rim of your cup—a nervous habit he had come to recognize.

"So," you said, breaking the silence first. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "No. Not at all."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "You were quiet, though. Everything alright?"

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. But then he met your gaze—open, expectant, and far too easy to get lost in—and found himself saying, "It was just... different. Seeing you with Sam."

You frowned slightly. "Different how?"

Harry hesitated, drumming his fingers against the table. "I don’t know. You seemed—comfortable. Close. Like you two had this whole history I wasn’t a part of."

Your expression softened, something flickering behind your eyes. "Sam is... well, they’ve been around for a long time. But that doesn’t mean you’re not important, too."

His heart did something strange at that. He looked down at his hands, trying to find the right words, but before he could speak, you reached across the table, your fingers brushing his lightly. It was brief, fleeting, but enough to make him look up again.

"Harry," you said gently, "you don’t have to feel like an outsider."

His breath caught slightly. "It’s hard not to, sometimes."

You sighed as if debating something internally, before giving his hand a small squeeze. "You mean a lot to me. I hope you know that."

The words sent a rush of warmth through his chest, but they also left him aching for something more. Still, he forced himself to nod, offering you a small smile. "Yeah. I know."

For now, that was enough. But as he looked at you, taking in the quiet sincerity in your eyes, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe—just maybe—there was still more waiting to be said.

...

My first angst fic. I hope you all like it hehe <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fiction #one direction #harry styles husband #dad! harry #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles au

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blondeaxolotl · 2 months ago

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do you have au versions of the staff sam and crewel yeah like. The staff

Sam n Crewel mention you're getting them first (the others later because my hand started to cramp after I drew these two) Crewel is a kitsune, honestly it's because I noticed Crewel has 3 tails attached to his coat and it instantly reminded me of a kitsune, that just tickled my brain nicely I couldn't NOT make him one after that connection (also gives me the excuse to draw him even more pretty harahrhar)

Sam is a grim reaper, and just like Skully they're based on my vers of grim reapers (which in reality it's just my heavily headcanoned depictions of Black Butler reapers, hence why there are green eyes in Sam's "shadow". So yeah they're basically Kuro Reapers in TWST)

Now mini lore ramble for Sam, only the NRC staff are aware Sam is a Grim Reaper and not a human, the students do not know and fully believe Sam is a human just like Silver. The reason for that is in this day and age it is deemed very unlucky if you were to spot a grim reaper in the wild while they're not in disguise, like to the point where people believe if you saw one, you will be hunted down by the reaper because you're not supposed to know they're there. Though that's mostly what the living believe. But for reapers, they disguise themselves to avoid causing a panic, their whole job and what they're known for is they collect souls from the recently deceased. Meaning if some random guy saw a reaper casually walking down the street, they'll immediately assume someone has died and people have yet to figure out who and where. It just causes a whole panic mess to happen because now everyone is just expecting to find a dead guy somewhere while in reality the reaper was just going out shopping. Now you could imagine what nightmare that would cause if a NRC student saw Sam walking around out of disguise. There would constant rumours about there possibly being a dead student/professor somewhere on campus and that would both be tiring but also bad the for the schools rep, it's just easier for everyone and Sam himself if he's just pretending to be a human.

ONE LAST NOTE THOUGH: Despite being perfectly disguised, people who went through a near-death experience are able to see through a reaper's disguise and can only see them as their true form while everyone else still sees a human. People who have gotten so close to death and having their soul reaped but were able to get out of it by a thread, have not only gotten a second chance in life but as well are now able to see the ones who were going to take their soul if luck didn't decide to be on their side that time (this also includes overblotters).

Don't worry, these people won't "get hunted down" for being able to see them. The whole "reapers will hunt you down if you saw them" thing is just a myth the living made up, reapers only disguise themselves to avoid causing a panic from making people believe someone died when no one did. They don't care if you can see their true forms, they just tell you to keep it down so people don't freak out about them just existing in the same room as them.

That's about it for now, hope the lil mini Sam reaper lore is interesting enough hehe, feel free to ask any questions- OH forgot to mention but reapers are very fucking blind. Both in and out of disguise and desperately need glasses to see, that's why Sam has glasses now, he's useless without them lmao. (Kuro fnas already know this but this is just for everyone who doesn't know yk)

#I love rambling about Sam bros literally just a Kuro Reaper so I love him more than anything #also for those who know how Kuro grim reapers are made. Yes that also means that's how Sam was made I'm sorry iykyk #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanart #twisted wonderland fanart #twst sam #divus crewel #monodukes art #monoduke ask

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bunni-v1 · 2 years ago

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Aommgg

Could I request the nrc staff + grim finding out you‘re a girl (plantonic)?

Or do they all know straight from the start?

TW: None

Info: Crowley, Grim, Sam, Cruel, Trien x Reader (Platonic)

🍓Hello lovely! I didn't want to make a whole long post about this, but I do want to talk about it. I'm so glad you asked! So the staff is... made aware of the situation, obviously. But, I think I'll go a little into depth on how each member deals with this information.

Crowley knows because... well... he sees you out of the ceremonial robes before anyone else does. He handles it as well as he does every other issue he comes across. "Just cover it up!" Famously said by Crowley. He's not unkind though, he does ensure that you get the help you need and he makes sure you keep what you need hidden, well, hidden. But... he won't do more than the bare minimum unless his hand is forced. Like... with Scarabia, he pretty much threatened the whole dorm with expulsion if they so much as uttered a word to anyone but amongst themselves. He is, unsurprisingly, not a father figure to you. He's more like... you're weird quirky uncle that you like, but only in small doses.

Grim, our little guy, finds out at the same time as Crowley... and he's a little harder to convince to keep his mouth shut to start. He doesn't like you, okay, you stole his position at NRC (like he had a chance at all). With a few well-placed cans of tuna from both you and Crowley, he keeps his little rat mouth shut. However, when you're actually granted studentship as NRC? His tune changes. It changes because Crowley holds his position as a student over his head, but it changes. Not a SINGLE person will ever hear you're a woman from Grim. He can't lose this position, not after so much work to get where he's gotten to. Besides, he grows to really love you! You're family to him, and no one out family. Seriously, he's so protective of it, once Ace and Deuce figure it out they're too scared to talk because of Grim's looming presence.

Sam is the first member of Staff to find out, other than Crowley. How? Crowley's sudden interest in pads, tampons, birth control, and all the fun stuff that comes with being a woman. Sam usually would just shrug his shoulders and excuse Crowley's quirky behavior, but then you come in looking like a lost deer and he gets it. He is genuinely so nice to you though! If you ever feel unsafe on campus, you talk to Sam and he'll handle it for you, okay? Sure, he jacks up the prices on your feminine products, but it's considerably less than his normal prices. Hell, if you're short, he'll "suddenly" remember he's got a discount on those items. He's like a cool older brother, honestly. He lets you hang out in the back of the shop and do homework when you ask, and he gives you snacks at a discount when you're there!

Crewel doesn't really treat you any differently than anyone else. Admittedly though, he's fond of you, even if you're a troublemaker. When you come into his class on your first day in a uniform six times too big for you, he feels pity for you. You didn't ask to be here, and now you have to wear that atrocious old uniform? You poor little pup. He's not exactly easy on you, but he's more understanding of your mistakes. Eventually, after you get to know him better, he offers to get you a nicer uniform and also privately tutor you. This is his excuse for keeping you busy so that you don't have as many chances to get found out, and it's also because you are horrifically failing his class and it looks bad on him.

Trien treats you the most differently out of everyone on staff. The SECOND he found out you were a girl and were being forced to hide that fact for Crowley's sake? Oh my god, grandpa was PISSED. Crowley got an EARFUL after that meeting. This man makes it his mission to make your stay as comfortable as he possibly can make it because sevens know Crowley won't be doing SHIT. After he meets you? Oh my god, you remind him of his own girls when they were little. He absolutely adores you, and everyone can tell. It's so odd to the other students because he clearly favors you, and when they ask you about it you've got no clue. He is your dad here at NRC, as out of character as that might be. You are a young woman lost in a world that is not kind to you going through so much more than you need to. He doesn't want to add more to your plate. You can come to him for anything and he will provide as best as he can.

Vargas (I'm sorry for forgetting about him lol) is a lot like Crewel in the fact that he doesn't treat you too differently from his other students. You're still made to push yourself to your upper limits for gym, still expected to keep up with your peers, and still expected to meet his general expectations. However, if it's way too much for you to do, out of fear of Crowley and Trien breathing down his neck, he'll lessen your load. Otherwise, he doesn't really have much chance to be around you outside of class. He finds you amusing and knows you've got a good head on your shoulders, but that's about it from him.

#bunni babbles 🍓#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #crowley x reader #sam x reader #trein x reader #mozus trein #twst crewel #crewel x reader #twst crowley #twst sam #twst grim #vargas x reader #twst vargas

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moonlit-imagines · 6 months ago

Text

Headcanons for holiday shopping with the Avengers

warnings:

a/n: THIS REQUEST IS A YEAR OLD BUT IT WAS A GOOD ONE !!!! I NEVER DELETED IT. merry christmas

prompt: anonymous: “Hi was wondering if you could do a Marvel Fix. Shoping with Wanda Maxmoff, Natasha Romanoff, & Pietro Maxmoff. Fanfic where There doing some early Christmas Shoping together Like at Walmart ❤️ Thank you sm”

holiday shopping with the avengers was…difficult

they all had very different ideas on what a good gift was

and in a mall where the possibilities were endless, the team went wild

first…..there was tony

“tony, it’s christmas, not the grand opening of a new store. why are you stocking up?” -you

“what do you mean? this is how we always did it when i was a kid” -tony

“go smaller” -you

“…like what? a car?” -tony

“smaller” -you

“a motorcycle?” -tony

cue your sigh

steve was a little more…old fashioned

“why are we in bath and body works?” -you

“well, i thought nat and wanda would like some perfume” -steve

“why, because theyre girls?” -you

“…is that wrong? am i being offensive?” -steve, mortified

“honestly, lotion for the guys would be better. have you seen their hands?” -you

“well, what do i get the girls, then?” -steve

“…lotion?” -you

“no, too impersonal. i think i need to give this more thought” -steve

sam was a “one and done” kind of shopper, though

“check, check, check” -sam

“you’re done? just like that?” -you

“just like that. impressive, right?” -sam

“i guess?” -you

natasha was honestly…not great either

“that’s a lot of leather…and knives” -you

“can’t go wrong” -nat

“i mean…well, i guess that checks out” -you

“see? the whole team wears leather and uses knives. it’s perfect” -nat

foolproof logic there

thor really wasn’t too familiar with the notion of christmas—or any winter holidays really

“why dont i just make us a feast! im good at that!” -thor

“also, you dont have any money” -you

“that too!” -thor

wanda thought meticulously about her gifts to the avengers

“this is for nat, and this is for steve, this is for thor, this is clint’s…don’t look at this one, it’s yours” -wanda

“what about tony?” -you

“my gift to tony is not spending all his money” -wanda

“that’s a difficult challenge considering he’s a billionaire” -you

“well we can get closeeee” -wanda, holding up tony’s credit card

“do you want to pick out a menorah before we head home?” -you

“yes! and a dreidel and other things, too” -wanda

bruce got everyone chocolate

clint got everyone coal

“im saving my money for my kids” -clint

“how sweet” -you

vision wasn’t really the most festive

“i’ll wrap everyone’s presents. that way they look presentable” -vision

“great! now we just have to decorate the tree” -you

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

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mattsobvimyfav · 4 months ago

Text

neighbors (Matthew Sturniolo)

pt.2

Friday morning was full of excitement. Charlie and I had barely slept the night before, too eager about picking up our cars. The moment we got to the dealerships, it felt surreal seeing our new cars parked out front, gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Charlie’s yellow Jeep Wrangler stood out like a burst of sunshine, and my forest green Ford Bronco had this rugged, timeless look that made me fall in love with it all over again. We couldn’t stop grinning as we signed the last bits of paperwork and were handed the keys.

Once we were done, we decided to meet back at the house and park our cars side by side. The contrast of Charlie’s bright yellow and my deep green made for the perfect aesthetic, and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a photo op. We set up the tripod and took a bunch of pictures in front of our cars, arms around each other, grinning from ear to ear.

One picture stood out: the two of us leaning against our cars, It perfectly captured the moment, our excitement radiating through the screen.

Back inside, we edited the picture quickly and posted it to our joint Instagram account with the caption:

“New wheels, new beginnings. Video dropping tonight at 8 PM EST! Huge thank you to you guys for making all of this possible. We love you so much!”

Within minutes, the post started blowing up with likes and comments. Fans were excited to see the new cars and were already hyped for the video announcement.

“Okay, that’s done,” I said, setting my phone down.

“Yup,” Charlie replied, her face already buried in her phone. “Do you want to go to that party tonight?”

“What party?” I asked back.

Last year Sam and Colby, the ghost-hunting YouTubers, had come to Massachusetts twice to film with us. They’d reached out after seeing some of our vlogs where we explored abandoned buildings, claiming we had the perfect skepticism for a collaboration. The first shoot had been a creepy old mansion, and the second, an eerie graveyard that left us questioning our life choices. Those videos were some of the highlights of our channel, and working with Sam and Colby had been an absolute blast.

We kept in touch sporadically through Instagram DMs, commenting on each other’s projects and hyping each other up, but we hadn’t seen them since the last collaboration.

“Sam and Colby invited us to their party” She replied very nonchalant

I blinked, “What?”

She shoved her phone in my face, and there it was a dm from Sam

“Hey, char, We’re throwing a party tonight seeing you guys just moved here figured it was the perfect welcome. Have y/n text Colby if you guys want to come.”

“First party here?” I said, sitting up straight. “I mean fuck it”

“Exactly,” Charlie said, pacing the room. “Text Colby.”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about the crowd that would be there. I rolled over on top of Charlie and started grunting “There's going to be a lot of people, isn't there?”

Charlie gave me a look like I was insane. “We moved to LA. What else did you expect”

She had a point.

“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Ill text him.” I pulled my phone out typing up colbys name in my messages .

‘Hey, me and charles will go send me ur address and the time you want us there’

Colby quickly texted me back with the information and I saw it was about forty five minutes from us.

“Okay we have like two hours till we have to start getting ready” I told Charlie, throwing my phone across the couch.

“Now the big question,” she said, trying to push me off of her. “What the hell are we going to wear?”

I’d just hit “post” on our car shopping vlog and already saw the comments rolling in, fans gushing about our new cars and how excited they were for our move to LA. I closed the laptop and stood, stretching.

“Alright,” I said, turning to Charlie, who was rummaging through the cabinets “Let’s do this.”

We ran upstairs and Charlie came into my room with clothes in hand “What are you wearing?”

She held up a sheer grey sparkly cropped top with a satisfied grin. “This, with black jeans and a black bra underneath. Casual, but still hot. What about you?”

I stared at my closet for a second before grabbing my cheetah-print corset top and a loose, short black skirt.

Charlie whistled, nodding in approval. “What the fuck, your boobs are going to look so good”

We spent the next hour getting ready, music blasting in the background. I curled my hair in loose waves while Charlie applied her makeup with the precision of an artist. After throwing on my outfit, I accessorized with a pair of silver hoops, a stack of bracelets and necklaces. Charlie opted for sleek eyeliner and a touch of highlighter that caught the light perfectly.

By the time we were both dressed.

“Our ubers almost here, ready?” Charlie asked, her grin infectious.

I smirked, grabbing my purse. “Lets get fucked up.”

The Uber dropped us off in front of a sprawling mansion glowing with string lights and thumping with bass. People were spilling out onto the driveway, drinks in hand, laughing and shouting over the music.

“Okay, this is a lot,” Charlie whispered as we stepped onto the property.

“It'll be fun,” I muttered back, adjusting my skirt as we approached the front door.

Inside, the party was even more chaotic. The lights were dim, colored LED strips casting a neon glow over the crowded rooms. The air smelled like expensive perfume, alcohol, and something faintly burnt—probably weed.

“Y/N! Charlie!” Colby’s voice cut through the noise. He appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face. He pulled us into quick hugs, kissing my forehead. “You made it! I’m so glad. Drinks are in the kitchen. Just have fun. I’ll find you guys later!”

Before we could say much, he disappeared into the crowd, already engrossed in some conversation.

Charlie and I exchanged a look.

We made our way to the kitchen, weaving through groups of influencers we recognized from YouTube and TikTok. The countertops were lined with bottles of alcohol, mixers, and cups, and a bartender stood behind the counter, casually pouring drinks.

“Two vodka sodas, please,” Charlie ordered, leaning on the counter.

I glanced around, taking in the party. People were dancing, talking, laughing, and in the living room, something made me stop short. A group of people were casually doing lines of coke on the glass coffee table like it was nothing.

Charlie followed my gaze and froze. “Uh…”

“That’s…a lot,” I said, grabbing my drink and taking a sip.

“Fuck it, its LA,” she suggested.

“You're right.”

We carried our drinks into the living room, After scanning the area, we found a couple of empty spots on a couch and sat down. The vibe was weird—part glitzy and glamorous, part outright hedonistic—but at least the music was good, and the drinks were strong.

“This is going to be an interesting night,” Charlie muttered, glancing around.

I nodded, taking another sip. “Understatement of the year.”

Charlie and I decided to split up after a while. “You go do your thing,” she said with a smirk. “I’m gonna see if I can find someone interesting to talk to.”

I laughed, finishing off my drink. “Fine, but don’t leave me stranded with coke heads.”

She winked and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to wander. I ended up by the bar again, where I ran into Jake Webber and Carrington, two creators I had followed for years.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Jake asked, flashing a charming grin.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“We’ve seen your stuff,” Carrington added, leaning on the counter. “You are hilarious.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely flattered. “You guys are too”

We quickly got into a conversation about how they've never seen me around before, and I explained the whole finishing college.

Until I felt someone staring.

I turned, and there he was—Chris. His expression was a mix of shock and irritation, and it didn’t take long for him to storm over.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice low but firm.

Jake and Carrington both looked between us, clearly uncomfortable.

“Uh, I think we’ll let you guys talk,” Jake said, quickly retreating with Carrington.

“What are you talking about?” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s a party. I was invited.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “This isn't some college party, Y/N. You shouldn’t be here. People actually do drugs and get fucked up here”

“Are you serious? I’m perfectly fine, Chris.”

“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You don’t know half the shit that goes down at these parties.”

“I don’t need your protection. I’ve been fine without you for four years.”

His jaw clenched, and before I could react, he grabbed my arm.

“What the fuck!” I shouted, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“We’re talking. Alone,” he said, dragging me upstairs despite my protests.

When we reached an empty room, he finally let go, slamming the door shut behind us.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I yelled, rubbing my arm.

“My problem is you being here, acting like this is just some casual party,” he fired back. “You don’t belong here, your too good for all of this”

“I’m not a child, Chris! Stop treating me like one.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice dropping, almost pleading. “This place, these people—they’re not for you, Y/N.”

“Why do you even care?” I shot back, my voice cracking slightly. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t four years ago.”

His face softened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with frustration. “You don’t get it. I never stopped caring.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening with anger. “Well, maybe you should have.”

I glared at Chris, my voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to do this, Chris. You don’t get to come into my life out of nowhere and act like you care.”

“I do care!” he shot back, his frustration boiling over.

“Really? Because it sure didn’t feel like it when you left. When you and your brothers decided we weren’t worth a conversation, a warning, anything.”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tightening. “We had to go. It wasn’t just about us—it was about what was best for our careers.”

“And what about us? What about Charlie? Do you even know what you did to her? She loved you, Chris, and you shattered her heart without a second thought.”

His face twisted in pain, but he stayed silent.

“And don’t even get me started on Matt,” I continued, my voice rising. “Do you have any idea what it was like to watch the person I thought I’d spend my life with just… leave? To find out everything I thought we had was just gone because you three made a decision that didn’t include us?”

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t done.

“He told me it was for my own good,” I said, my voice breaking. “That he didn’t want to ‘drag me down.’ But you know what? That wasn’t his choice to make. He didn’t trust me enough to stay and fight for us. He didn’t trust me.”

Chris’s shoulders slumped, and he looked at me, guilt etched across his face. “Matt never got over you,” he said softly.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t you dare try to make this about how hard it was for him. He left me, Chris. He made that choice. He didn’t even try to work it out. And you—you were just as bad. You lied to Charlie, broke her heart, and walked away like we didn’t even matter.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he yelled

“You could’ve stayed,” I shot back. “You could’ve talked to us. But instead, you left us to pick up the pieces while you chased your dreams. And now you’re here, what? Hoping we’ll just forget all of it?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, his face crumbling. “It wasn’t like that, Y/N.”

“Then tell me what it was like,” I challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you three cared more about yourselves than the people who loved you.”

Chris looked away, unable to meet my gaze. The silence between us was heavy, suffocating. Finally, I shook my head, stepping back toward the door.

“You made your choices, Chris,” I said, my voice cold. “And we’ve made ours. Stay away from me. Stay away from Charlie. Just stop. I am going to go downstairs and enjoy this party. And you, your going to fuck right off.”

I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I sipped my drink, chatting with a girl who’d just introduced herself as Riley, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and, of course, there he was. Matt. The last person I wanted to see tonight.

I sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of my nose for dramatic effect. “Can I have one night of peace, please?”

“Nope,” Matt replied flatly, his jaw set and his eyes locked on me. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Excuse me? We’re not doing anything. You’re free to go, but I’m staying right here.”

He crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. “I’m serious, Y/N. This party isn’t for you. We’re leaving.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Oh, give me a break, Matt. You don’t get to decide what’s for me anymore. You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “I’m not asking, Y/N. Let’s go.”

I groaned, the frustration boiling over. “Whatever makes you leave me alone.”

Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly texted Charlie:

Change of plans. Get an Uber home without me. I’ll explain later.

Without waiting for her reply, I turned to Matt. “Happy now?”

He didn’t say anything, just motioned toward the door. I followed him, my anger simmering under the surface. Of all the people in the world to interrupt my night, it just had to be him.

The car ride home was suffocatingly silent. Every second stretched painfully, and I could feel Matt’s presence like a weight on my chest. I stared out the window, my mind racing, trying to process how the night had spiraled so fast.

When we finally pulled into my driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to escape this nightmare. But as I stepped out, I realized Matt was right behind me, following me up the walkway.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to face him. “Um, your house is that way,” I said, pointing next door.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into my bag, yanked out my keys, and unlocked the door. Before I could even react, he pushed the door open and guided me inside with an unyielding grip on my arm.

“Matt! What the FUCK are you doing?” I snapped, jerking my arm free.

He shut the door behind us, his eyes blazing with anger. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” I shot back, throwing my bag onto the couch. “Four years, Matt. Four years of silence, and you think you can just walk into my life and demand a conversation?”

“I didn’t have a choice back then!” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

I laughed bitterly. “You didn’t have a choice? You chose to leave. You chose to walk away from me, from everything we had! Don’t stand here and act like you’re some victim.”

“I had to leave, Y/N!” he shouted, stepping closer. “I did it for us. For our future. You think it was easy for me to walk away?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t you dare try to twist this into some noble act. You left with nothing. No explanation, no warning—just gone.”

Matt’s face twisted with frustration. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You deserved better—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I deserved!” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “You don’t get to make that call for me. You abandoned me, Matt. And you don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing the room. “I didn’t abandon you! I thought—”

“You thought what?” I spat. “That I’d just wait around for you? That I’d put my life on hold while you chased whatever the hell it is you wanted?”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said quietly, his voice laced with pain.

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I don’t understand, Matt. I don’t understand how you could hurt me like that and then come back here and act like you care.”

“I do care, Y/N!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. “I’ve always cared!”

“Bullshit!” I screamed, the tears finally spilling over. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have left! You wouldn’t have destroyed me! I hate you, Matt. I hate you.”

His face crumbled, and for a moment, I thought he might cry. But then his expression shifted, anger flickering in his eyes. “You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Oh, I mean it,” I said, my voice sharp as glass. “And just so we’re clear, I’ve moved on. I have a boyfriend now, Matt. His name is Leo, and he actually cares about me.”

Matt froze, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lying,” he said.

“I’m not,” I said coldly, meeting his gaze. “He’s everything you’re not. Reliable, honest, present.”

Matt’s breathing quickened, and he took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “He’ll never love you like I do,” he said, his voice shaking with anger.

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Love? Don’t make me laugh, Matt. Whatever you felt for me died the second you walked out that door.”

His face twisted with pain, but I didn’t care. I was done being the girl he left behind. Done letting him think he had any power over me.

I swallowed hard, the words burning in my throat. “The tattoo. The one of our dorm number. What the hell were you thinking?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away like he didn’t want to answer.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” I said, stepping closer. “I saw it, Matt. The key. The number. Why would you do that? Why would you brand yourself with something you so easily left behind?”

“I didn’t leave it behind,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

I let out a bitter laugh. “You could’ve fooled me. You left. You didn’t look back. And now you’re walking around with this permanent reminder? What’s the point? To pretend you didn’t completely destroy me?”

“I got it because I never forgot,” he snapped, his voice rising as he finally looked at me. “Because no matter how far I went, no matter how much time passed, it was always there. You were always there.”

I felt my stomach twist, anger bubbling to the surface. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to act like you’ve been suffering when you were the one who made this choice!”

“You think this has been easy for me?” he shouted, stepping closer. “You think I don’t regret it every fucking day? That I don’t wake up wishing I’d done things differently?”

“Then why didn’t you?” I yelled back, my voice breaking. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His face crumpled, and for a moment, he looked utterly defeated. “Because I was scared, okay? I was scared I’d hold you back, that I’d ruin everything good in your life.”

“You already did,” I whispered, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

Matt flinched, his shoulders slumping. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said.

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “The right thing would’ve been staying. Fighting for me, for us. But instead, you left. And now you’re standing here, acting like you’re the victim. It’s pathetic, Matt.”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, his voice breaking.

“You can’t,” I said firmly. “It’s too late. You made your choice, and I’ve moved on. You need to do the same.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Matt looked at me like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to fight for me now, but it was too late.

“Go,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the tears. “Just go, Matt.”

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, shattered all over again.

I dragged myself upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. My chest was tight, my breaths shallow as if the weight of the night was physically crushing me. I stepped into the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light at first. The dim glow from the hallway was enough as I stared at myself in the mirror. My red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked face stared back at me, a reflection of how utterly wrecked I felt.

I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as I pulled off my clothes. The moment I stepped under the spray, the tears started again, mixing with the water cascading down my face. I sobbed quietly, my hands gripping the tiled walls for support. The warmth of the shower did nothing to ease the cold, empty feeling in my chest.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

The memories came flooding back: laughter in our dorm, late-night conversations, stolen kisses. And then the way he left, how he tore everything apart. And now—now he had the audacity to show up, to push himself back into my life when I’d worked so hard to move on.

By the time I turned off the water and stepped out, my legs felt weak, and my heart felt heavier. I wrapped myself in a towel and padded to my room. Pulling on an oversized sweatshirt that fell to my thighs and a pair of underwear, I tried to focus on anything other than the ache in my chest.

I took my time with my skincare routine, the familiar motions grounding me. Cleanse, tone, moisturize—it was a small act of care in a moment where I felt so completely uncared for.

Finally, I headed downstairs, my hair still damp and clinging to my neck. I grabbed my water bottle from the kitchen and made my way to the couch. Curling up in the corner, I tucked my knees under the sweatshirt and pulled a blanket over myself.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge. I glanced at my phone, seeing no new texts or missed calls. Charlie wasn’t home yet, but I needed her. I needed her to burst through the door with her dramatic energy and remind me I wasn’t alone.

I grabbed my phone and decided it was time to finally tell Leo about Matt living next door. I sent him a text lying in the process saying all that happened was I saw him outside, and we didn't speak.

I stared at my phone, waiting for Leo’s response. My heart was pounding, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the confrontation with Matt earlier or the anxiety of telling Leo. I knew he would be upset, but I didn’t realize how upset until his response came through.

Leo: What? Are you kidding me?

Leo: You’re telling me you’re near him again? After everything?

My fingers trembled as I read his messages. His words stung more than I expected.

Me: I didn’t want him to be here either, Leo. It just happened.

Leo: No, Y/N, you literally live next door to him. What are you going to go back to him now?

Me: I’m not going back to him. I’m just dealing with the fact that he’s living next door now. And I didn’t know until tonight.

Leo: I hate that he’s still in your head, its supposed to be me and you. Not you and matt and maybe me.

I let out a shaky breath, tears pricking at my eyes. It hurt to see him so angry, but I couldn’t blame him.

Me: I’m not letting him back in, Leo. I swear.

Leo: You say that, You’re letting him get in the way of us.

Me: That’s not fair, Leo. I didn’t choose for him to be there. He shouldn't be affecting us at all.

There was a long pause, and when his next message came through, I could feel the frustration and hurt in every word.

Leo: I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and wait for you to just go back to him. You think I didn't hear about you guys all the time, we were on the hockey team together. I don’t want to end up being second to him.

I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. My eyes were blurring with tears, and I felt a lump form in my throat. This was not how I expected this to go. I thought Leo would understand. I thought he would have my back, not be so furious with me for being in this situation.

Me: Leo, please don’t say that.

But I could tell by the tone of his messages, he was already done.

Leo: I think we need some space, Y/N. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.

My hands shook as I stared at the screen. I could feel the walls closing in around me, suffocating me. I didn’t know how to fix this, how to make things right with Leo. He was right to be angry, but it felt like I was losing him for something that wasn’t even my fault.

Me: I’m sorry, Leo. I really am.

There was no reply after that, and I just stared at my phone, willing it to buzz with a message that would undo the damage I’d done. But it didn’t. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing everything: Leo, my peace, and my control over this new chapter of my life.

As I stared at my phone, trying to calm my racing thoughts, my eyes caught a notification on the screen. I hadn’t expected it. I didn’t want to expect it.

Matt followed you on TikTok.

It was like the breath left my body all over again. I couldn’t help but stare at the notification for a few seconds, I had forgotten to re-block him, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. I hadn’t wanted this. I didn’t want any of this anymore. My mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the weight of what had just happened with Leo, the confrontation with Matt, and the fact that my entire world felt like it was being flipped upside down.

I glanced over at the clock. Charlie wasn’t home yet, and I knew she was probably out having fun, doing her thing, while I was stuck here, buried under everything that had been happening. The noise in my head was unbearable.

I sighed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. I pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. I felt like I’d been running a race that I couldn’t keep up with. All the thoughts, the emotions, the people who had once meant everything to me – they were all tangled in my chest, suffocating me.

I needed to escape it all, at least for a moment. I pulled the blankets tight around me, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping that the weight of it all would disappear if I just closed my eyes.

But the reality was that it wouldn’t. None of it would.

I shut off my phone and threw it across the room, too tired to even process the pain it caused me. I just needed to shut down, stop thinking, even if it was just for tonight.

I tried to push the thoughts of Matt and Leo out of my head, but they lingered, gnawing at me. I didn’t know where to go from here. Everything had become so complicated. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was exhausted from trying to figure it all out.

I closed my eyes, burying my face in the pillow, and let myself drift into a restless sleep, hoping that when I woke up, maybe everything would be a little clearer.

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