#she wouldn’t miss them as much and they wouldn’t miss her

[alotofpockets]

Stretching the truth | Laia Codina x Physio!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "You haven't kissed me all day."

A/n: thank you @valkyrie-00 @totaly-obsessed and @catasha from the woso writers server for your ideas on this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

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After not having to wake up early during winter break, your 7am alarm was rough. You turned it off and before you were even able to get out from under the covers, your girlfriend wrapped her arm around your body and pulled you closer. “Don’t go.” She said still half asleep.

You had spent the winter break in Spain with Laia’s family. She had been missing her family, so it was a no-brainer to go. Your family was out here, and who were you to say no to the nice and warm Spanish weather?

In Spain you had spent almost every single day of your trip with Laia by your side, so you weren’t surprised that she was now clinging onto you. “Back to work today, love. I have to go in early to set everything up.”

“Five more minutes?” Her sleepy voice begged. “Alright, five minutes, but not a minute more.” You knew that if you wouldn’t stop it at five, Laia would be able to keep you there for an hour if she wanted to.

After cuddling for a while longer, you told her you really had to go. You placed a soft kiss onto her lips, “I’ll see you soon.” 

The first day back for you meant starting off with a few meetings, and setting up your physio room. A few of the girls would come in to get assessed before training, while the other physios had appointments with the other girls. 

On your schedule were Vic, Lia, Laura, and Lina. The girls had been either injured or just coming back from their injuries. You had been working with them before the break as well, and wanted to make sure that the work they put in over break did their bodies well.

Vic came in for her assessment first, you chatted a bit while you checked off all the boxes, and declared her ready to start training with the team. She had been working hard towards her comeback, and you were happy to see the progress she had been able to make already. It wouldn’t be long now before she would be playing again, you knew it and knew it made her incredibly happy.

The next person that came into your office was Lina, she came to you with some struggles. She let you know that her calf wasn’t feeling great, so you checked it out. After assessing her calf and the rest of your checklist, you recommended her to come in after her gym session.

The next person you expected to walk in was Lia, but instead it was Laia who walked through the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Emma today.”

Laia closed the door behind her and sat down on your physio table. “I was, but she wanted me to see you instead.” You furrowed your brows, “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just my ankle is bothering me a bit.” She said while putting her leg up. “Your ankle?” Her injury confused you, because she hadn’t mentioned anything during the break. 

“Yeah, my left ankle. I think I hurt it when I got out of the car, just a misstep.” You looked between her face and then the foot she put up. “Your left ankle is hurting, but you put up your right?”

Her eyes widened and it takes every ounce of power in you to stay professional and not start laughing. “Left? Did I say left? No no, I meant right. It- it’s the language barrier, I switched them up, accidentally.” 

With a shake of your head and a light chuckle, you say, “Alright, let’s take a look at your right ankle.” As you had expected, there wasn’t much you could find, just Laia dramatically flinching as if it was hurting. It was a good thing she didn’t go into acting, because it took everything in you to not just burst out laughing.

“It doesn’t look like much.” You said when you were done assessing her ankle. “But, let’s keep an eye on it. You’re all set to head to the gym.”

Laia jumps down from the bed like there was no problem with her ankle, confirming for you that it was nothing. “Thank you.” She says and steps closer to you, the twinkle in her eyes makes you take a step back instantly. “We’re at work.”

Your girlfriend’s shoulders slump down. “You’re right, I’ll see you later.” You don’t have time to feel bad, as the next player enters the room.

The morning was filled all the way until lunch break, which you spend in the dining hall with the rest of the staff and players. After break it was right back to work, some taping before you would spend some time with Vic on the pitch.

The only person that was scheduled to come in was Lina, but once again it was Laia who entered. “Oh hi. Is everything okay?” She nods, “Yeah, just a tight muscle in my calf and I wondered if you could help.”

You looked at your watch, about ten minutes before Lina would come in, so you told her to lay down. As Laia laid down on the physio table, you grabbed some massage oil and began working on her calf. You couldn’t deny how toned her muscles were, even if this was supposed to be professional. No wonder they made sure that Laia was usually seeing one of your coworkers and not you.

“Is this where it was feeling tight?” You asked, applying a little more pressure to a specific spot. “Mhm, yeah, right there.” She responded with a little too much satisfaction. Her tone made you chuckle. “What? You’re good at this.”

You rolled your eyes but kept working, your fingers kneading into her calf. "Feels more like you're enjoying this than actually needing help."

Laia turned around on the table and put her leg up, like you asked her to do. “You’re the best at giving massages, of course I would come to see you.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Hm sure, and the ankle this morning? Totally legitimate too?”

With the most horribly performance of an innocent face, Laia said “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Just as you were finishing up, Laia stretched her arms above her head, causing her shirt to ride up slightly, exposing her toned stomach slightly. You stopped talking mid-sentence, much to Laia’s delight. “Oh, was that distracting? Sorry.” She said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “You’re impossible.”

Before Laia could make a comeback, a knock on the door interrupted. It was Lina poking her head around the door, “Am I early?”

You looked at your watch quickly, “Right on time. Laia was just leaving.” She reluctantly hopped off the table. Giving you one last daring look, before closing the door behind her.

The team knew you and Laia were together, and you had become good friends with most of them because the two of you were dating, so it wasn’t weird when Lina raised her eyebrows at what just happened. “Something going on there?” She said with a knowing smile. “Just a very needy patient.” You joked back, before you told her to sit down, so you could tape her calf.

When you were done with taping, you headed into your office for a quick coffee break and filling out some papers for the work you had done today, before you would head out to the pitch with Vic.

“Hello!” A familiar voice said from your office door. You sighed and rolled your eyes lightly, while a smile tugged at your lips. “Laia, what is it this time?”

She stepped into your office and closed the door behind her with an innocent smile on her face. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Sleeping? Why are you coming to me for that and not Emma?”

Laia sat down on the chair across from you, her face plastered with a serious look. “Well, it’s about positions.” Her wording catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heating up, “What?”

“You know,” she continued, “positions. I can’t seem to find the right one… to sleep comfortably.”

“Okay, that’s enough. What is with you today?” You lean back into your chair and move your hands through your hair. 

"You haven't kissed me all day." Laia said with a pout. And then every single unnecessary visit started to make sense. “Oh Laia, really? You’ve been hogging my patient time because you wanted a kiss?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, though the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Can you blame me? We went from spending every minute together to barely seeing each other all day. I had to be creative.”

You had to give her credit, she had been creative. “You know there’s a time and place for that, right? Here? Not the place.” You chuckled.

Her pout deepened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on your desk. “But you love me, so you’ll forgive me, right?”

You sighed dramatically, though the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist,” she said back instantly. Oh she was good, you thought while shaking your head. 

“Fine. One kiss. But only so I can actually do my job for the rest of the day.” You gave in. Laia’s face lit up and she was on her feet instantly. “Deal!”

She walked to the other side of your desk and waited for you to stand up to wrap her arms around your waist and give you a loving kiss. Laia was trying to deepen the kiss, so you reluctantly stepped back. “Not the place.” You warned.

Laia pulled away with a smirk. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Out. Go train or do something productive. I’ve got actual work to do.” Your girlfriend grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Alright. I’ll behave.” She walked towards the door, before she closed it behind her she looked back and added “For now.”

You were left in the room shaking your head in amusement. She was really something. But you loved her dearly and could not wait to get home.

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[jaggedamethyst]

easy (part 2) (bucky barnes x gn!reader)

content: secret relationship/established relationship, miscommunication/misunderstanding, angst, self-doubt, mentions of death, cheating (kind of), not proofread

notes: part two this this...good luck lmao (a short one but it’s the right length i fear)

main masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

You’d been woken up by the sounds of knocks on your door. They started off normal and quickly became more frantic…aggressive, even. 

The sound of your name made you sit up on the floor. Suddenly, the door pushed open—revealing Bucky there. His hair was disheveled, clearly having run his hands through it. He hadn’t bothered with saying hi, kneeling in front of you and looking you over.

He cupped your face, “Are you okay?” He pressed into you more, nudging you to sit up. “What are you doing down here?”

You reached out to him, making sure you hadn’t tricked yourself, that he was really here. 

He continued, “What happened? Sharon said you disappeared and she couldn’t find you.” 

Somehow Bucky was missing the point. You could only blink at that, knowing that his energy was so misplaced. Why would he care about you right now when this entire relationship had so quickly gone awry? Why would he focus on you being on the floor when he ruined this—him. 

Bucky spoke again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I called you a shit ton, where’s your phone?” 

“Don’t know.” 

He paused, confused at your first and only words to him being so carelessly spoken. “Steve said he saw you—that you just…ran.“ 

You nodded. You had ran. Swift motions out of the building and to your place weren’t enough to erase the imagery in your brain. The way Bucky had seemed so carefree—so happy. With someone who wasn’t you, most importantly. A woman who looked so remarkably different than you. 

Your skin and body physically repelled him—pushing him away without a thought. Moving to stand, you watched his face twist in hurt. 

“How was recon?” 

“It was fine…am I missing something?” 

You ignored the question, asking your own. “You said Steve told you he saw me?” He nodded. “Did he know who I was?”

“Course he knew who you were—he’s my best friend.” 

You bought your in front of you, wringing them together. “Does she?” The question was meant to quell your anxiety, but instead made the prospect of him cheating infinitely harder to swallow. You looked at him expectantly, an answer seeming to escape him—despite you both knowing what happened that evening. 

“Does who?” 

“Natasha…Romanoff…the one you went on recon with.” You moved your head as you slowly spoke the words—breaking it down for him. “Does she know about me? About us?” 

“You know that we keep this a secret for your safety. We’ve talked about this a thousand times-“ 

“No, you keep it a secret and you've talked about it.” You moved to sit on the couch, “I agreed because I love you and I understand the stress of your job. But what I saw today,” you shook your head and looked up at him across the room. “That wasn’t a secret for my benefit. It was for yours.” 

“That’s just not true.” Bucky moved from his spot, finally, stepping across the room to sit beside you. “You have to understand my perspective on this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the cause of anything happening to you.”

You twisted your entire face, staring up with an incredulous look. “Did you stop to consider how much worse it would be to have to live with the knowledge of you doing god knows what every time you’re not here?” You paused, feeling his hands attempt to wrap around you. Moving back instantly, you continued, “What happened with her? What haven’t I seen?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky waved his hands in front of him, emphasizing his words. “Nothing happened-“ 

“I saw you. Sharon showed me the feed, Bucky.” 

His face glazed over in realization—not that you had seen him with her, but that you had seen him with her. Bucky’s head started to move on its own, searching for how to make sense of this for you. “That wasn’t what it looked like.” 

A huff escaped you. Without a second thought you got up and moved toward the door, Bucky right on your trail. “If we’re gonna act like this you can just go.” You put a hand on the door handle, raising a brow at him. “You of all people know I won’t sit here and look stupid. Not when I’ve already wasted so much time waiting for you.” 

A moment passed, the reality of what you were saying lingering in the room. The two of you had talked about it before, how you’d waited so long for someone like him to appear. There’d been years of self discovery and “loving yourself first” before Bucky showed you that someone else could. When that happened, you settled for the relationship existing in its very specific confines—under the lock and key of his life’s restrictions. Even then, he’d get a call; people needed him. Bucky would go away for however long, and you’d wait. The amount of time spent yearning for the world to suddenly be quicker for you, for him, was immense. In every instance it seemed that despite the relatively common cosmic occurrences he’d faced, none of Bucky’s opponents could grant your wish—to get the man you loved back to you sooner. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. You watched his hands ball into a fist, angered with himself. The mechanical whir of his arm filling the empty space. “I don’t feel that way about her.” 

You scoffed at that. He sounded so textbook it was physically making you ill. 

He continued, though, “She’s been my friend for a long time. We spend a lot of time together…and I wanted to tell her about you.” He inhaled, “But I didn’t. I don’t know why.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” 

“Of course not…and she kissed me. I regret making her feel like there was even a slight chance of me seeing her that way—because I don’t. I can’t.” His voice wavered, “Can’t because I only love you.”

He reached a hand out to you and it caused you to move away from him—impossibly closer to the door. 

“Bucky…I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Doll, please-“

You waved a hand, interrupting him, “Wait—just…listen.” You let go of the door, fully looking at him now. “I don’t think I can be with you if it’s like this.” He let you continue, “I know you want to protect me, but all of this has hurt me more than it could’ve ever helped. I feel so removed from you—like I don’t know you outside of our apartment walls.” Sweat had accumulated on your palms, making you realize how anxiety-inducing this had been. “I haven’t felt confident in myself around you in…a while-“

“But-“ 

��Bucky, please.” He nodded, stilling himself in commitment to let you speak. “That’s not your fault…but I think I need space to figure out why that is.” 

Bucky whispered your name, a shakiness on his voice. “I just…can’t stomach the idea of you dead…dying...because of me.” 

“I would’ve.” You moved to open the door. “I think I would’ve been fine facing death as long as everyone knew I loved you first.” You stepped back from the threshold and offered him the space to step out. “But they don’t. Nobody knows except us. That hurts.” 

Bucky didn’t speak as he stepped toward the hall. His entire figure seemed to hang lower than normal, and it pained you to see. You felt the heat of tears in your eyes, but you wouldn’t cry. There was a sort of satisfaction in facing this—breaking up with Bucky. It was always going to happen, you reasoned, so bearing your soul…crying…would’ve been too easy.  

tags (tried to get everyone who asked lol)

@julvrs @shanksstrawhat @vicmc624 @preeyas-world @ilovemcuff @winchestert101 @caity1995 @hereforfun-31 @cjand10 @nadinekr @wintercrows @read-just-cant @behindmygreyeyes @ordelixx @pklol @bookworm3570 @largarei @fairlyfatale @kittenkiryu

[the-winter-spider]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 25k+

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

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

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

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

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

For the most part, it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t laugh like he did.

They didn’t understand you like he did.

They didn’t know you like he did.

They didn’t make you feel like he did.

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

But you always brushed it aside.

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, finally, you saw him.

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

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

Everything stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you hear it.

Footsteps behind you.

And then, his voice.

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when he begins to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ran into Bucky last night.”

The laughter stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you and Bucky had thrown everything off balance.

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

And now here you were, breaking the unspoken truce.

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

“What do you mean you ran into him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…” you start, your voice faltering.

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

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

The words land like a grenade.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky’s words won’t leave your mind.

“None of them meant anything.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I love you.”

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

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

There’s another message waiting for you now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the questions won’t stop coming.

What if he’s really changed?

What if he means it this time?

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

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

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“I hate what loving you does to me.”

“I wish I could stop waiting for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watches you, his expression guarded but waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

The friendship started quietly, almost tentatively.

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

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

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

Bucky kept showing up.

Every. Single. Time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he never did. Not yet anyway.

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

And then you saw it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words caught you off guard. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

It started small, the fights.

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

Easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda smirked. “I was never your favorite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before you knew it, you were in his arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scared you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t see the biker coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave it,” she says firmly.

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

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

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

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

“Wait! Please, just wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a knock at your door.

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

“Bucky?” she asked knowingly.

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

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

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

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

You blinked, surprised. “Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

But it felt big. It felt impossibly big.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon, it was just you and Bucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

It was Bucky.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

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

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

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

And then you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And every time, your answer was the same.

"Yes, Bucky. I'm sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's going on?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you said quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded “Were okay.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam!” Natasha groaned, glaring at him.

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

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

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

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

Bucky.

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

Wanda noticed, of course. She always did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you turned, there he was.

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

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

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

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

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

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

The word lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No more running,” he promised.

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

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

But none of it mattered.

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

----

The difference this time was undeniable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt good. It felt right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fragile?” she repeated, her brow furrowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

You deserve it. Now go kill it today.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After dinner at your place, you finally asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow as you moved toward the next stall. “Only because its your housewarming gift..”

“You're the best” he murmured, his voice warm, before placing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

At the flower stand, the vibrant colors caught your eye. Bouquets of sunflowers, daisies, and tulips spilled across the table in a wild display of life. You reached out, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of a sunflower as you admired its brightness.

You didn’t notice when Bucky stepped away, too absorbed in the moment. But when he returned, you turned to find him holding a small bundle of daisies, their white and yellow blooms bright against his dark shirt.

“For you,” he said softly, his voice low, almost shy.

The gesture made your heart ache, the simplicity of it filling you with warmth. You took the daisies, your fingers grazing his as you did. “You’re getting really good at this boyfriend thing,” you said, your smile teasing but sincere.

He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Just trying to keep my girl happy.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, and you looked away, pretending to study the flowers so he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks burned. “You’re doing a pretty good job,” you admitted quietly, more to yourself than to him.

At the next stand, baskets of apples were piled high, their shiny red skins gleaming in the sunlight. You picked one up, turning it over in your hand. “What do you think?” you asked, holding it up for Bucky’s opinion.

He leaned closer, pretending to inspect it with exaggerated seriousness. “I think it’s an apple.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, grabbing an apple and tossing it into the bag. “Fine. You pick the apples, and I’ll carry them. That’s the deal.”

“Deal,” you said, sticking your hand out dramatically for a handshake.

Instead of shaking your hand, he pulled you closer by the wrist, his hand settling lightly on your waist. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, the touch sending a spark through you. It was such a small thing, but it rooted you to the moment—a quiet reminder of how far you’d both come. You couldn't believe this was the same stand you stood at 3 and a half years ago watching Bucky breaknyour heart and yet here you were now.

By the time you’d finished making your rounds, your bags were full, and so was your heart. You both found a spot on a nearby bench, the wooden surface warmed by the sun. Bucky set the bags down at his feet and pulled out a basket of strawberries you’d picked up earlier.

“Fresh strawberries,” he said, plucking one from the pile. “Can’t beat this.”

You reached for one, but he held it just out of your reach, grinning mischievously.

“Bucky,” you laughed, leaning forward to grab it.

“What’s the magic word?” he teased, his voice playful.

You narrowed your eyes, your hand hovering. “Please.”

He finally let you take it, laughing as you popped the strawberry into your mouth. “Gotta keep you on your toes,” he said with a wink, leaning back against the bench.

The moment was so simple, so easy, and yet it felt monumental. His arm draped over the back of the bench, his fingers brushing your shoulder absentmindedly. His other hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours like it was second nature.

The world felt quiet. Peaceful.

“Are you happy?” Bucky’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he broke the comfortable silence. His tone was so quiet that it almost got lost in the sounds of the world around you, the distant murmur of conversations, the occasional rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. But you heard it. You always heard him.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening at the way he was watching you. His blue eyes, soft and searching, held a depth that made your heart ache in the best way. It wasn’t just a casual question. It was something deeper, something raw. Like he needed to hear it, needed to know that he was doing enough, that this, what you were building together was enough.

“Yeah,” you said honestly, your voice steady but tender. “I am.”

For a second, Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, like he was trying to memorize the way you looked at him, the way you said it. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small, warm smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the sharp edges of his features.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in slow, deliberate circles, a quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t put into words. “Good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’ve never been happier.”

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a blanket, filling every crack you hadn’t even realized was still there. It wasn’t loud or grandiose. It was simple, honest, and real.

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His arm tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it was all so familiar, yet so new. It felt like home, but a version of home you’d never known you needed until now.

This was different. This was real. This was everything you’d both fought for.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

You felt him stiffen slightly, his breathing hitching as the weight of your words hung in the air. His arm around you loosened just enough for him to pull back and look at you fully, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else, something vulnerable and raw.

“You do?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly as if he didn’t dare believe it.

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but unwavering. “I always have,” you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. “And I never stopped.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not in a bad way. It was full of everything unsaid, everything you’d both held back for so long. And then you saw it, the way his eyes watered, the way his lips parted like he was trying to find the words but couldn’t.

You reached up, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing despite the lump in your throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice so low it almost broke. His hand came up to cup your face, his touch gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. “So much.”

You smiled through your own tears, your chest aching with a kind of joy you hadn’t thought you’d ever feel again. “Yeah, I know,” you said softly, your tone teasing but warm.

A shaky laugh escaped him, the sound raw and full of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the moment. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and shaky. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just breathed each other in, the world around you fading into nothing.

“I never deserved you,” he said finally, his voice trembling with emotion. “Still don’t.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you felt your throat tighten. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting on his cheek. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that made your heart ache.

“Bucky,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “You gave me everything, and all I ever did was hurt you. And even now, after everything, you’re still here. I don’t know why, but…” His voice trailed off, and he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve.”

You felt your chest tighten even further, a lump rising in your throat as his words washed over you. You cupped his face in both hands now, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life proving anything to me,” you said firmly, your voice trembling. “You’re already enough, Bucky. You always have been, even before.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you gently, like you were something fragile and precious.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “Every word,” you whispered. “I don’t care about the past anymore. All that matters is this. Us. Right here, right now.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he’d spent so many years building start to crumble. He let out a shaky laugh, leaning into your touch. “God, I love you,” he murmured. “I don’t even know if I can say it enough to make up for all the times I didn’t.”

“You just did,” you said with a soft smile, leaning in until your lips brushed his.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a quiet kind of intensity that made your heart feel like it might burst. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together again, your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

It wasn’t about wrong timing or unfinished promises—it was just you and him, finally in step, finally ready. Right person, right time, and this time, you both got it right.

[daeniradraconis]

Banter Between the Lines - Hughes Brothers

Author's Note: Hey, so here’s another quick chat-style piece! I haven’t had much time to sit down and write properly lately, so short and sweet it is for now. 😊 Feel free to send me some requests if you’d like! (You can check out the "rules" here: link). I can’t promise when I’ll get to them, but I’ll definitely find time soon.

Summary: A little fluff with a touch of smut (nothing too crazy, just some extra flirting). Quinn’s girlfriend roasts the boys while calling them out in their group chat.

Warnings: Nothing major, just some mention of 🍆.

It was one of those quiet Sunday nights where everything felt slow. You'd spent the evening catching up on your favorite shows, but it was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was Quinn. The constant distance between you two had become harder to ignore with each passing day, and as much as you loved how happy he was with his team, you missed him. And, truthfully, you missed the whole family.

You’d gotten close to Jack and Luke over the years, and now, with Quinn playing for the Vancouver Canucks and Jack and Luke together on the New Jersey Devils, the family dynamic felt a little more spread out than you liked. Sure, they’d all make time for you when they could, but it wasn’t the same as those days when you’d all hang out together.

Tonight, instead of a call or a quick text, you decided to turn to something a little more familiar. You opened up youtube and searched for their latest highlights.

All three of them were struggling on the ice, and it showed. It hurt to see them like this, especially when you couldn’t do much to help. So you did what you always did in times like these—opened the group chat and prepared to roast them into oblivion. If nothing else, it might make them laugh.

you: just finished your highlights. Quinn, congrats on being the saddest guy on the ice again 🥇. Jack, loved the mini tantrum energy 👏. Luke, did you forget which team you play for? because those turnovers were next-level.

Jack: wow, you really woke up and chose violence.

you: always. someone has to keep you humble.

Luke: humble? this feels more like a personal attack.

Quinn: what would you call it, then?

Luke: bullying.

you: oh, Lukey, don’t take it so hard. I tease because I care 💕

Jack: you literally plotted my ex’s demise last month. is that “caring” too?

you: first of all, it wasn’t a plot. it was more of a… fantasy.

Quinn: putting her in the ground “while she’s still breathing” doesn’t sound like a fantasy…

you: listen, if she hadn’t been such a manipulative little snake, I wouldn’t have had to consider it 🐍

Luke: terrifying. but honestly? fair.

Jack: I could’ve handled her myself, you know.

you: oh, really? because from where I was sitting, she had you wrapped around her finger like a puppet.

Quinn: she’s not wrong!

Jack: whose side are you on?

Quinn: hers. always.

you: damn right honey. and don’t worry, I’m not plotting her demise anymore… unless she tries to come back. then all bets are off.

Jack: remind me to never date again. you’re scarier than Quinn’s slap shot.

You grinned as the banter flew back and forth, but your focus shifted to Luke. His disastrous date still didn’t sit right with you.

you: okay, but seriously, Lukey. I've heard some gossip. how does a girl ditch you mid-dinner? you’re literally the sweetest human alive.

Luke: THANK YOU! finally, someone gets it.

Jack: don’t encourage him. he needs to toughen up.

you: excuse me? let him be sweet! not every guy needs to have your level of 'I’m too cool for feelings,' Jack.

Quinn: valid point.

Luke: thank you, Quinn.

you: honestly, Luke, I’ll never understand how she left. did you say something weird?

Luke: no!!! I was perfectly normal.

Quinn: “normal” is a stretch…

Jack: is this really the same guy who told a girl on a first date he’d make six different accounts just to sort himself into Hufflepuff six different times because he didn’t 'trust the algorithm'?

Luke: OKAY, THAT’S DIFFERENT. I was being honest!

you: oh, Lukey. you’re lucky you’re adorable because that is painful 😂

Luke: this is why I didn’t want to tell you guys.

Quinn: bro, it’s fine. just embrace the awkward puppy vibe. it’s clearly your brand.

Luke: I hate you.

Jack: ugh, why does he get the sympathy? roast him more guys!!! I can’t be the only one taking L’s here.

you: because Luke doesn’t put ketchup on his eggs like a serial killer, Jack.

Luke: yeah, what is WRONG with you? ketchup on eggs? really?

Jack: you people are so dramatic. it’s normal.

Quinn: nothing about that is normal.

you: thank you, Quinn. once again, the only rational person in this chat.

Jack: stop flirting with my brother. it’s disgusting.

Luke: seriously. I can feel the weird vibes through my phone.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to push their buttons.

you: you’re just mad because Quinn’s risotto is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Quinn: best risotto AND lasagna. don’t forget!

you: how could I? it’s the only reason I keep you around. And of course your magic 🍆

Quinn: oh, not my sparkling personality? btw you're objectifying my body...

you: hmm… maybe that too. but i have my priorities straight!

Jack: 🤢 STOP. this is disgusting.

Luke: seriously. this is TMI guys!!

you: just jealous, you two can’t even scramble eggs properly.

Quinn: cooking skills = key to a woman’s heart.

Luke: ugh. golden child strikes again.

Jack: some of us don’t need to cook because we have charisma, thank you very much.

Quinn: does your charisma excuse ketchup on eggs? because it shouldn’t.

Luke: still the biggest red flag in this chat.

Jack: Y’ALL ARE SO DRAMATIC.

You smiled at their bickering, your heart full, untouched by their chaos.

you: okay, but for real… I miss you guys 💔.

Luke: aww, finally some love.

Jack: are you feeling okay?!

you: don’t get used to it. but yeah, I miss you. Quinn, risotto night when you’re home! Jack and Luke, you can come eat it too.

Quinn: deal. but I’m ignoring them for the first hour I’m back. i need my time with you!

Luke: RUDE!

Jack: gross. is this the flirting portion of the chat? can we not?

you: love you too, boys. even if you’re disasters.

Jack: love you too. now stop flirting with Quinn before I puke.

Luke: seriously. save it for your own chat.

Quinn: jealousy doesn’t look good on you two.

Luke: jealous of what? your cooking? maybe. your 🍆? absolutely not.

you: you should be Lukey! your brother got some great 🍆

Jack: I’m OUT.

Luke: same.

Quinn: good job hon. guess it’s just us now. you: just how I like it 😘

[insomniakisses]

i like the alpha alessia and omega leah pairing do you have any more hcs like pregnant!leah or them as parents? Or leah in heat? Nesting? Just anything!!!!!

Alpha Alessia x Omega Leah General HCs -

Alessia Coming to Arsenal -

Obviously they knew eachother from England camps

Obviously the attraction was there

But it wasn’t until lessis first week at arsenal that things really happened.

Leah was all needy and needed something someone

But everyone who usually helped her just seemed so blah

Then lessi was training particularly hard and sweated of her scent patch and WOAH

Leah’s eyes snapped to her so so so fucking fast and she was just dragging her away

Getting Together -

Sex. Thats how they got together.

Sex that happened in the back seat of alessia’s car

Hot, needy, messy, intense sex

Just lessi clapping leahs cheeks in doggy

They are just lucky that lessi had a nee pack of condoms in that car.

General Relationship Fluff -

Soft soft soft babys

So loving with eachother.

Lessi cooks and leah sits on the counter, not ti eat the cut offs because shes so picky but just to get kisses

Lessi caters to leah’s 4 year old pallet without complaint

Leah just looks so cute chomping on her potato smileys

Alessia does anything leah needs

Without her asking

Like she sees it, she does it.

She drives leah around, Leahs her passenger princess

Without complaint.

Morning with them are always difficult

Neither wants to get up so they are cuddling and kissing while they lay there

Eventually one of them pulls the other up and into the shower.

Lessi is always putting leah on her lap and nuzzling into her

Always sharing clothes.

Leah never admits it but when alessia was away for a while when leah did her acl and was recovering. she was in lessis old man u or unc gear

Just pouting her little pout missing her gf

So many sessions of playfull rough housing.

Heats & Ruts -

They are synced up

If ones in heat the other is in rut and vice versa

They are both so needy during this time

Noone can contact them they are just pound mf town

Rough sex or soft sex it doesnt matter they are going for hourrrrrs

So much oral and so many cream pies

Leah’s Nesting -

Leah nesting for the first time at Alessia’s was cute

They were planning a movie night and lessi nipped down to put in the potato smileys and start the pasta and came back to her room looking different

A pile of cussions and hoodies and pillows in the corner on a make shift mattress and a pouty leah saying “wrong”

Leah was just so cute right there lessi almost died.

The next day they got propper nesting supplies and did it right.

Alessia’s Denning -

She didnt originally have a den at leah’s

She didnt really need it

Leah wanted her to have one though

She wanted to make sure lessi was comfortable with her properly

She just bought a loud of stuff and set up her den in the living room

They fuck in it alot

Then they fuck in leahs nest

Pregnant!Leah -

When she found out she was pregnant she was purring like crazy

Just running to alessia and telling her the news.

Alessia cried.

She was always just as happy

The two were clinging to each other rumbling and purring all day.

Pregnant Leah always rubs at her bump when she looks at lessi like shes saying “thats ur mama”

The pup ALWAYS kicks when lessi is playing or an arsenal game is on

Shes always talking to the bump about them being england and arsenals next big player.

Ofc lessi sooooo does the lifting the bump thing.

Lessi would do the cooking a dish based on the babys size trend but leah wouldn’t eat it so instead she lets leah know the size as she kisses the bump

Ofc leahs sex drive is high too but lessis so so so scared to hurt them that she just eats her out.

Pup Stuff -

Mama lessi and mummy leah are such doting loving parents to their son.

Just always at there kids events

When the pup is young they spend afternoons at the training ground and often take naps in the nest there

That pup is raised as an arsenal supporter

Lessi failed the rock paper scissors so their next pup, a daughter, is man united through and through.

Much to her mama and auntie mary n ellas love.

Their son is a perfect mix of them, with leahs smile and now with lessis laugh and lessis eyes

Their daughter though is a mini lessi completely.

The last pregnancy was so tough on leah tho that lessi got a vasectomy

They plan to adopt tho

[jazziejax]

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Dev-Em x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 ���𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - flirting, mentions of sex, unknown world confusion, slight jealousy, and I tried to make this a slow burn but I might be a little fast with the way I’m going, idk

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I know it’s been a minute, I KNOW YOU WANT A BAD BOYS UPDATE, but I’m collecting more so I can release two at a time. Plus, I’m lowkey in a Snowfall moment right now and trying my best in to write for Franklin Saint/Damson Idris because once I’m in the mindset of the drug game, it’s hard to get out of. (I’m so dramatic 🙄) Imagine Leroy and Giorgio who you want, i had Danny Glover and Joey Bada$$ in mind. UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grimmer issues, I don’t like re-reading my own work :(

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 8,096+

“So, we need to get some sort of story in order before we see Uncle Leroy.” She said, her flyaways blowing within the wind.

The golden sunlight of Louisiana filtered through the dense canopy of oak trees draped in Spanish moss, casting dappled shadows on the winding dirt road. Magnolia had one hand on the steering wheel of her old pickup truck, the other tapping nervously on the door of the open window. The ride was silent the majority of the time it took them to get to Leroy’s. Dev’s eyes were trained out of the window, jumping between all of the different things he could as they went from the scarce homes of the countryside to the French-style city. He would see the occasional stray dog that ran with some others as they raced for scraps or a stork rise for the waters and fly off.

Magnolia would glance over now and then, watch as Dev leaned forward slightly, his piercing eyes scanning everything outside with the intensity of someone cataloging the world for the first time. She assumed speaking would snap him out of his thoughts, but his gaze was focused intensely out of the window.

“You don’t blink much, do you?” Magnolia asked, squinting over at him out of the corner of her eye.

Dev turned his gaze to her at that, his expression calm but curious. “Blinking is inefficient when observing. I might miss something important.” She stated.

“You sound like some sort is soldier.” She said, letting out a small chortle. She glanced over at him to see his eyes flicker away from her, his jaw flexing quickly as he trained his eyes out of the car again. She could see that her statement hit a nerve, so she just awkwardly cleared her throat. “Well, now that I have your attention.” She began as her fingers flexed on the wheel. “When we get to Uncle Leroy’s, just let me do all the talking, okay? He’s old and suspicious of everything so there will be a lot of questions and I don’t want his mumbo jumbo to confuse you.” Her words only caused Dev to furrow his brows slightly, glancing over at her.

“Mumbo Jumbo?” He questioned. Magnolia just blinked at him. “Right.” She said. “Uh, forget that. Let’s just get our story straight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Um….”She trailed off as she thought, tapping her fingers against the door her arm rested on. “You’re a friend from college!” She stated, glancing over at him with a nervous smile. “We can say you’re in the military and you just got back from deployment and needed a place to stay.” She said with a grin.

“Why would I choose to stay with you?” Dev asked, blinking over at her. Her grin faltered slightly as she glanced from the road and over to him. “Because we’re college friends?” She asked herself more than she answered him, thinking over the logic of their plan.

“Why wouldn’t I stay with family?” Dev continued.

“They’re dead,” Magnolia stated simply with a shrug, not taking her eyes off the road as her grin appeared again since she came up with another take that seemed to fit their plan. “See, it checks out now.” She stated, not charging the way Dev’s eyes seemed to dim. His jaw tightened as he focused his eyes down at his hands, which were clenched together in his lap as he tried to keep his composure. “That won’t be too hard for me to adjust to.” He stated plainly. Magnolia glanced over at him due to his deep tone, deeper than usual. It was filled with dread and anger, although it was masked to seem like average indifference.

She blinked once she registered his words, her gaze returning back to the road. She internally cursed herself out for being so forward. She felt her heart clench as she thought it over again and again in her mind. He was so lost, in a strange world with no family. Everything was unfamiliar to him and he could barely remember how he ended up here. He was helpless. And she wasn’t making it any better.

“Well, let’s just scrap that all then.” She stated softly. “It wouldn’t make much sense for you to be in the U.S. military anyways with your accent and all.” She said, turning her head to look out of her driver-side window as she cringed again as words kept slipping out of her mouth. She didn’t mean to keep bringing up how different he was and his home but she couldn’t help it. They are coming up with his background story after all, so they don’t have to explain that he fell from the sky in some unknown object.

“We’ll just say that you’re an exchange student, in a way but still a college friend.” She began again. “You’re here to gain the full American experience, the one you didn’t really get in university since you were always on campus, and I’m your host.“ She looked over at him for any sign that she probably said something wrong again, only to be met with a simple nod from him. She subconsciously copied his actions before turning back to the road, engaging them in another moment of silence.

Magnolia wanted nothing more than to apologize. She felt that she always seemed to say the wrong things to him. She didn’t really know how to house anyone despite being the southern belle people assume she is because she bakes pastries at her friend’s cafe. So add not only a stranger but an alien, a hot alien that crashed into her backyard….She felt that she was owed the right to be a little confused and on edge.

She also couldn’t describe this strong pull she felt towards him. She felt this urge to care for him and be there to get him to open up some. Dev gave off this strong and intimidating aura, but she could see right through it with every little move he made. Granted, maybe everything she was thinking and feeling was the after-effects of the crash. It’s not every day something like that happens and it’s probably some reverse Stockholm syndrome. And it also could do with the fact that she was a decent human being and would always help another in need if she could But she hasn’t felt this sort of pull to anything or anyone besides Mufasa when she found him in the rain outside of work three years ago.

This entire situation was doing nothing for her lack of social cues and anxiety.

They rode the rest of the way to Uncle Leroy’s clinic in silence. Dev continued to observe everything around him, taking in all details he noted as worthy while Magnolia raced in what she would say next and whether or not it would lead to thoughts she didn’t want him to have.

Once they pulled into the parking lot of the clinic which was surrounded by other businesses, Magnolia stopped the car. “Follow me.” She said as she gathered her bag and then hopped out of the dark, unknowingly slamming the large metal behind her. Dev followed with no question, almost taking himself out as he tried to hurry after her and forgot he still had his seatbelt on. Magnolia turned around when she heard a soft strangled noise, but only saw Dev exit the car and quickly close the door behind him before fixing his clothes. She just simply shook her head, thinking it was nothing.

The bell above the door chimed as the pair walked in, Magnolia in front of him. He followed her to a small counter where he could see a woman sitting behind a computer, typing away. “Hey, Jess.” She looked up at the sound of the bell, offering a small smile to the familiar face of Magnolia, but doing a double take at the unfamiliar man behind her.

“Hey, Magnolia.” The woman said as she ceased her typing and once between the two. “What’s up with you today? You don’t have an appointment.”

“Oh, I know,” Magnolia stated nonchalantly. “I just need a walk-in for my—.” She paused mid-sentence as she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find Dev in one of the available lobby seats, but was met with the sight of the man’s broad chest directly behind her. Her eyes quickly bounced up, catching his eyes when he looked down at her. “My friend. He’s new to…well, the country.” She added as she looked back over at the woman behind the desk, letting out a small laugh at the end. Dev looked back at the woman as well, giving her a polite smile. “Hello.” He said.

And it was as if the sound of his voice ignited something within the woman, causing her to let out a giggle as she looked at him. “Hi.” She grinned, not taking her eyes off of him. Dev blinked at her, his smile only faltering slightly at the woman’s odd behavior. Magnolia's brows twitched, looking at the woman who was no longer paying her any attention and cutting her eyes to the tall man next to her who seemed to be a little uncomfortable.

After flicking her questioning gaze between the two for only a few seconds longer, she cleared her throat. “Jess?” She said.

“Yeah?” Jess responded her eyes only momentarily leaving Dev’s figure to look over at Magnolia as she bit at her lip, trying to keep her grin at bay.

“We’re gonna go to my uncle's office, Kay?” She said, not even trying to set up a walk-in appointment anymore. She was going to lie and say the man knew she would be here but there was no point in any of that since the receptionist seemed more than occupied just staring at the man next to her.

“Yeah, sure.” Jess sighed, still looking at the man next to her. Magnolia blinked, trying to keep her words at bay as a sour feeling spread through her chest. She just gave the woman a sarcastic smile, not that she could even see it, before reaching back and grabbing ahold of Deb’s hand to pull him away.

Dev didn’t protest the feeling of the woman’s grip on him, only glancing down at the contact and up at the back of her head as she pulled him through the foggy glass door to their left. It was silent as she dragged him down the hall, passing rooms with doors open as waiting patients sat for a doctor and some closed as they convoluted over their meeting. Dev could feel the annoyance radiating off of her Magnolia as she led him through the hall of the small clinic. He couldn’t tell what had her angry, but by the way, she gripped his hand and the small frown he saw before she turned her back to him, she was a little ticked off.

She composed herself when they got to a wooden door near the end of one of the halls she led them through. The name ‘Dr.Jenkins’ was written on the foggy glass panel in gold ink and fancy writing. Dev watched as Magnolia took in a deep breath and then let it out, her eyes closed as she tried to gain a sense of herself back.

She then turned and looked up at him, trying not to jump back at the sight of his bright eyes already on her. “You ready?” She asked, her voice as soft as ever.

“Yes,” Dev said, giving her a single nod. Magnolia nodded herself before opening the door, not even caring to knock.

Her smile was large as she stepped into the room, Dev’s hands still in hers. “Hey, Uncle Leroy.” She said to the man behind the desk, who looked up at the sound of his door opening. The man had small, rectangular glasses sitting on the edge of his nose, looking over from the papers on his desk and over the frames to see them.

His face automatically broke out into a grin at the sight of the woman. “Hey, my little moon pie.” He said, his voice light and smooth with a scruffy undertone. He stood from the seat of his leather chair, and that’s when Magnolia finally let go of Dev’s hand, moving to meet the man halfway, around the large dark wooden desk, in a hug. Dev watched as she smiled largely as she wrapped her arms around the man, trying not to pay attention to the cold feeling that washed over him once her hand left his.

They rocked back and forth for a few seconds, savoring the embrace. They then pulled away from the hug with a breath, the older man looking down at the girl. “It’s been months.” The man began, a fond look on his face as she looked down at her. Magnolia let out a small sigh, looking aura from the man’s gaze. “The only time I hear from you is when I see you at church or work. We barely talk anymore.”

“I know, Lee, I know,” Magnolia said. “I’ve just been busy since..everything.” She said, sparing Dev a quick glance out of the corner of her eye when she paused. Dev caught on to what she was saying, but oddly enough he had a feeling she wasn’t alluding to him when she mentioned everything.

Her eyes cut to him and the man before her looked his way. The brown-skinned man's eyes scanned Dev up and down skeptically before his eyes drifted back to Magnolia only briefly. Magnolia avoided his eye, her lips pursed into an awkward smile as she gazed at Dev.

“Ah, so this is what’s kept you busy.” The man stated, before stepping around the woman. Magnolia gaped in shock at his words, tilting her head as she tried to decipher what he meant by that. Before she could question him, Leroy spoke back up, now standing before Dev. His shoulders were squared as he looked up at the taller man. Dev kept his ground, although he did shirk himself in slightly due to the man’s smaller but as well as intimidating stature. The younger man studied the older man before him, taking in his salt and pepper goatee that matched his small fro.

“And you must be?” Leroy said before holding out his hand. Dev placed his hand into his, each of their grips firm on the other. “I am Dev-Em, sir.” He answered. Magnolia silently winded when he said his name but quickly fixed it when Leroy furrowed his brows and glanced over at her. “Dev-Em?” He repeated back to the man, his tone giving way to his confusion.

“Deven!” Magnolia yelped, causing both men to look over at her. “Deven, you have to say your full name, silly.” She quickly added, letting out a nervous laugh as she eased her way over to stand back next to the new man in her life. Her smile was strained on her face and she hoped the facade wasn’t obvious as she placed her hand on Dev’s bicep. “Sorry about him, he’s getting used to the whole Southern Hospitality thing.” She said to Leroy as she glanced between him and the man she stood next to. Dev was confused by the ordeal taking place before him but just went with whatever the short woman next to him said. That is what she said in the car on the way over and he was following her orders.

“His name is Deven Embrose. He’s from the United Kingdom. It’s, like, a lil nickname thing they do over there.” She finished, her hand still connected to Dev’s skin, to which she gave a small pat.

Leroy nodded, placing his hands in his pockets as he gave the tall man another once over. “So I heard.” He said, giving a lowly gesture to his mouth as she referred to the other man’s accent. “I’ve met a few men from across the pond in my day.” He nodded. Magnolia let out another bout of anxious laughter, unknowingly leaning into Dev’s side more. Neither of them seemed to pay attention to the touch she was applying, but Leroy did glance between them suspiciously.

“Anyways!” Magnolia was quick to inject before more questions about Dev’s past could be asked. “I’m here because he needs a check-up.”

“A check-up?” The older man asked. “Why? What happened?” He questioned.

“Oh, nothing much.” Magnolia shrugged. “There was just…a tumble that..occurred.” She explained as nonchalantly as she could, making up a lie on the spot. Leroy furrowed his brows again, his eye dating between the close pair. His suspicions were loud and clear within his gaze, especially in the way he eyed the random man who was with someone he considered a daughter.

“A tumble?” He echoed.

“Yup,” Magnolia said. “It happened when we were moving his things in. He fell down the stairs with a large box in his hands.”

“Fell down the stairs?” Leroy questioned in shock, his eyes moving across the young man before him to gauge any serious wounds on him at such a serious incident. Magnolia was quick to interject his scurrying mind. “Not down all of the stairs! It was just a small tumble down, like, the bottom five. Right, Dev?”

“Yes.” The man replied with a firm nod.

It was silent for a moment, the younger duo standing close as they waited for the older man to speak.

Leroy just nodded, completely unsure and a little stunned by whatever was going in before him. He just subtly shook his head as he blinked. “Okay, well why don’t we just go to one of the available rooms and get this checkup started.” He said with a small grin. Magnolia nodded as she moved out of the way for Leroy to walk through and led them to the room.

Once he was out, Dev looked down at the woman who made her way out of the door before him.

“You’re..bad at this.” He murmured. Magnolia shot a look at him over her shoulder, taken back by his audacity. “What?” She said but didn’t have any time to respond before she stopped outside of the room Leroy did.

He clicked the lights on and gestured them into the space. “Have a seat.” He said as he moved over to the counters that held tons of average-grade medical equipment. The sound of rubber stretching echoed within the small room as Dev sat on the leather seat of the operation chair. The chair was pretty large but the big man that sat in it made it seem like it was made for his form. Magnolia stood near the chair, her stature putting her at the perfect height so that she didn’t have to crane her head to see Dev’s face clearly.

Her lips were pursed as Leroy turned around with gloves now on his hands and his stethoscope out of his white coat.

“Okay, now why don’t you just take a deep breath in for me.” He said as he stepped over, placing the bell of the tool on Dev’s chest. Dev did as he said, his chest lifting outwards. “Now, release.” Dev followed his instructions, breathing out. Leroy just let out a small hum before taking the tool out of his ear and hanging it on his neck. He then took out a pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and clicked it on.

Magnolia stood off to the side, watching the whole produce as Leroy foaled the small light into Dev’s eyes, who flowed a little upon impact but did as the man instructed about where to look. Leroy stood with another hum, pocketing the pen. “Everything looks fine to me. I’d just need to run a few more tests before you can head out. Let me alert one of my nurses.” He said before stepping out briefly.

He came back only seconds later. “So, Deven.” He began in a questioning tone as he began to switch out his gloves. His cadence caused Magnolia to throw her back as she released a silent groan, her movement catching Dev’s attention. He furrowed his brows at her as he watched her go back to normal when Leroy turned back around. “What do you do?” He asked.

“Military, sir.” He stated, his eyes briefly jumping to the woman next to him, making sure he remembered their small conversation from the car. Magnolia’s brows twitched as she tried to keep them from peaking since she wasn’t all too sure if they had scrapped the whole military story in the car or not. She could’ve sworn they decided not to go with that idea. And while she was having a mini internal freakout, Leroy just nodded. “What branch?”

“The Navy.” Magnolia was quick to add since she was certain most of this wasn’t covered in their small conversation from the car ride over. “Marines, more specifically.” She nodded.

“But why are you here? In America?” The old man continued to question, not paying much mind to her interjection this time.

“I got injured.” Dev was quick to respond, taking the woman who had eased her way next to him aback. “It wasn’t severe but it caused a lot of physiological trauma so I retired. I also wanted a change of scenery and Magnolia offered to house an old friend.” He explained. Leroy’s stare was stagnant, never wavering from the man as he listened to his story. Magnolia was still quite shocked. Not only at his quick thinking but also the way her stomach fluttered at hearing the sound of her mane on his lips for the first time.

“Okay,” Leroy said. The pair just blinked at him.

“Okay?” Magnolia replied, her tone slightly questioning. “That’s it?” She asked. Leroy just nodded. “Yeah. I’ve known you a long time, so I know how careful you are. Plus, you’re a grown woman. I’m not gonna ask too many questions.” He stated. Magnolia just nodded, and she honestly didn't think she had it in her to be shocked by anything anymore. If anything, the last 24 hours have proved anything is possible.

“But I still do have to run these tests.” He said as he glanced down at his watch, just time for a nurse to push in the machine that would check his vitals and blood pressure.

It didn’t take them long before they were out of the door.

“That was stressful.” Magnolia sighed, her shoulder slightly slumped as she walked before Dev as the pair made their way back to the lobby, Leroy absent since he had an actual patients waiting on him. “I’m stressed. I need something sweet.” She groaned. She then glanced back over at the tall man behind her. “You want something sweet. Ya’ like ice cream? I could go for some ice cream.” She rambled as she opened the door that looked like the one they walked into earlier, however, this door led them out on the opposite side of where they walked into, to the right of the receptionist's desk.

“I do not know what that is,” Dev stated. Magnolia paused and turned to him, just staring at him as she tried to gauge any sight of a lie within his gaze. Seeing the plain look the man was giving her, just staring into her eyes with no questions asked, she then broke out into a grin. “Oh, Dev, sweetie, I have so much to show you.” She said, her soft southern drawl almost luring him into a trance as she placed her hand on his arm, subconsciously rubbing her thumb against his skin.

It was however broken by the sound of someone speaking.

“Hey.”

The pair both looked over at the sound of Jess’s voice, the woman’s eyes trained solely on the man in front of her. She stood from her chair, showing her dark purple scrubs as she leaned forward to the tall counter and pushed over a small card. “It’s for you.” She said, a sultry grin on her face as she didn’t hide the way she eyed the man before her. Dev’s brows spiked a little in interest, the man reaching over and picking up the small piece of paper to see it held an odd series of numbers.

Magnolia tried her best to hide the frown that began at her brows as she watched, her eyes jumping between the ever-stoic Dev and the thirsty receptionist, Jess. She didn’t know why, but she got this sour tang in the back of her throat at the sight of Jess’s obvious flirting. Whether it was the way she didn’t care to even ask more about Dev before throwing herself at him or the fact that she was doing this all on the clock, hell, even the possibility that she and Dev could be together. She couldn’t care less about the specifics when this woman was obviously throwing herself at him right in front of her.

Dev blinked at the small card before looking back up at her. “Thanks.” He said, no smile, not even a nod. He just held the white card stock up in acknowledgment. Magnolia softly scoffed before quickly turning on her heels and strutting out of the clinic, her bunch of curly hair swinging on the top of her head. Dev was quick to follow her, not even sparing the woman behind him a glance as she tried to keep up with the only thing he knew in his new life.

The bell above the door chimed as they exited the clinic, entering the blazing sun shining down on them even from under the awning. Dev could feel a source of every course through his veins as he stood in the light but didn’t have time to focus on it before he felt the small card be ripped from his hands. He watched as Magnolia ripped the paper into pieces and then pocketed the scraps. She then pulled her keys from her purse, all in silence as Dev simply watched her.

Due to the pause in the atmosphere, she looked up once she held her keys to her truck to see the man staring at her. “What? I don’t litter.” She said before turning from him and walking over to her truck.

Dev followed behind her as usual, getting inside the odd contraption as he did before. “What was that she’d given me?” He asked as he copied the way to put on the seatbelt from watching her, glancing back now and then to see if it was correct.

“Her phone number.” She replied.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the way we communicate here without being face to face. We write letters as well but that takes too long. But then again, we also have electronic letters such as emails and text, so, I don’t know.” She shrugged, her tone flat as she started the car and began to pull out. Dev nodded, taking in what she said at face value since she didn't seem too in the mood to offer more context. Something both of them didn't bother to question.

“Why did she give me her number? Aren’t you her friend?”

Magnolia scoffed, glancing over at him. “Hell no, I’m just nice to her because it’s the right thing to do. She’s just doing her job and she works for my uncle.” She shrugged again. “And she gave you her number because she don’t want nothing but to get in the drawls.” She scoffed again, her tone bridging in pissed as she gripped the steering wheel.

“What?” Dev asked full-on confusion written across his face as he looked at her, not even focused on his task of gaining information by observing his surroundings. Magnolia paused, glancing over at him to see the look he was giving her. “She wanted nothing more than to just sleep with you, Dev.” She said bluntly. “That’s why she gave you her number. So you could call, talk, flirt a little, go out, and then hook up.” She explained as if it was obvious. Dev understood most of what she was saying, but he was still sort of lost on some parts.

“Hook up? What is that, how do you hook up?” He questioned.

“Sex.” She stated. “Hooking up is sex. Mating. The act most things do to reproduce offspring.” For some reason, she had no trouble explaining such things to him. Even though it was sort of awkward because she never really had to have “The Talk”™️ ever in her life, especially with a grown man, and with the way he was staring at her so intensely. But it seemed to just flow out. This conversation would probably be their easiest because every culture and race had to have sex…right? That’s how they had to reproduce?

“Ahh.” Dev nodded once he understood what it all meant. He then frowned, as if thinking over it all now. “She wanted to mate with me? We wouldn’t even be compatible. Her genetic makeup doesn’t offer anything to mine.” He said. Magnolia squinted her eyes in thought, blinking as she registered the way he stated that in her mind. She opened her mouth to respond but came out saying nothing.

“Hey, the check-up wasn’t so bad, was it?” She chimed in after a moment of silence. Dev glanced back over at her, giving a silent nod before realizing she probably couldn’t see him. “It went well. Odd, but well.” He said. “You’re terrible at lying on the spot, though.” He added.

Magnolia opened her mouth to say something snarky at his comment, but could only let out a small sigh. “Yeah, I know. I get nervous when being put on the spot.”

“Your uncle is an interesting character.”

“Yeah, he gets that a lot. I say he’s a little nosy but he likes to call it cautious. My grandma used to blame his age but he’s been like that my whole life and I’m almost thirty.” She told, a fond grin making its way into her face as memories began to flash in her mind. Memories filled with the family she used to have and the good times she always thought of before closing her eyes at night for a good night's rest.

Dev could sense the newfound softness in her voice at the mention of her grandmother. He stared at her, watching the subtle smile grace her lips as she zoned off within the hum of the road. He wanted to question more about what seemed to be the connection between the old man and her but could tell it was a sensitive subject by every mention of her. That and whatever that small conversation between her and Leroy was before his presence was made known.

“So, you wanna try some ice cream or what?” She suddenly asked, glancing over at him. Dev simply nodded, causing her to grin as she drove to the perfect spot.

────୨ৎ────

Before he could even get to observe his surroundings, they out of the car and walking into another establishment that had a lot of windows. The bell above the door chimed again, causing him to look up. “Another bell. Why the bell?” He asked, following closely behind the woman as his senses became invaded with a plethora of smells and sounds. He blinked frantically with a small frown, trying to clear his mind of the loud noise that surrounded him.

“It alerts the staff that new customers have arrived.” He heard Magnolia’s voice speak over the chaos, and it was as if that was all he needed to snap back in. Honing in on the sound of her voice caused the other sounds around him to come to a halt, to the point where he didn’t even hear them anymore. “It gets annoying but diners tend to keep that traditional vibe for some reason.” She finished with a shrug. She gave the person behind the counter a large smile with a wave before moving her way through the diner.

The pair passed countless booths that held a variety of people, from kids who were full of sugar and agitating their parents to groups of teens who gossiped around the small devices in their hands. Dev looked around at it all while it seemed that Magnolia led them somewhere she wanted to go since some of the tables they passed were empty.

He stopped, watching her drop herself into a booth by the window, scooting in the middle of the seat. Dev followed suit, watching as she pulled the large menus from the little folder stand next to her and handed him one.

He copied her actions, looking at the variety of names in the list before him. Some held small pictures of the food next to its name, but majority of the list he had no idea what was. Except water and he wasn’t quite sure why that was on the menu since it held no price next to it.

“I have no idea what any of this is.” He spoke as he placed the menu down on the table with a little force, sort of fed up with being utterly confused by most of everything around him. Magnolia hummed, placing her menu down as well with a nod. “I figured. Are you hungry?” She asked.

“No.” He shook his head innocently, staring at her. “I ate quite a bit this morning.” Magnolia let out a small chuckle at his words. “Boy, don’t I know it. I’m gonna have to go grocery shopping this week. I mean, I know I cooked it all but usually I have leftovers.” She said. Dev looked down, his eyes darting to his hands on the table. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad at that. That he was invading her space.

Magnolia’s smile faded slightly. She reached her arm across the table, placing her smaller hand atop his large ones. “Hey,” She said in a soft tone. She tilted her head down just as he looked up at her call, connecting his bright-colored eyes with hers. “I’m just pokin’ fun.” She stated with a mere grin. “I’m happy to have you in my home. I know have someone who can respond to the nonsense that I say.” She chided, causing him to let out a small chortle.

“You do talk a lot.” He stated nonchalantly. Magnolia blinked at his words. “Okay, ouch.” She said, but her smile was still there to let her know she wasn’t actually hurt by his words. Their small bonding moment was then interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up to them.

“Who comes to work on their day off?” The smooth voice of a familiar man spoke up, causing the pair to look over. A large smile instantly broke out into Magnolia’s features while she looked up at the man who made his way over to them, her hand unknowingly sifting away from Dev’s, that cold feeling enveloping him again just as it did at Leroy’s clinic.

“Someone who loves their job,” Magnolia said, looking up at him as he stopped in front of their table. The man rolled his eyes at her, pulling a notepad out of his coat jacket. “Yeah, whatever, kiss-ass. You just got a raise out of me. You’re not getting another this soon.” He said as he flipped the pad and pen in his hands.

“Oh, you’ll know when I’m kissing ass, G.” She said, causing them both to let out a small laugh. The man’s gaze then drifted to Dev, who eyed the obviously familiar pair with a subtly arched brow. The stranger held out his hand, his gold watch peaking from underneath the expensive brown suit he had on, the man standing out against the rest of the diner. “Giorgio Clarance, nice to meet you.” He introduced himself.

Dev placed his hand into his, both of their grips firm as they stared at one another. “Deven Embrose.” He said, speaking the name Magnolia made up earlier. It felt weird coming off of his tongue, unnatural. He just hoped Giorgio couldn’t tell.

The overdressed man hummed at his words. “Around the way type of guy, I see.” He said with a nod. “Cool.” He stated simply, giving the man a plain once over before directing his attention back to Magnolia. Dev furrowed his brows at the man’s dismissal of him, one that was a little hostile with the look he was just given. He tried not to read much into it, but he couldn’t help but question if he felt that Giorgio was throwing at him.

“He’s my boss,” Magnolia spoke up, seeing the questioning look on Dev’s face, thinking that’s what he was questioning. “He owns this place.”

“And others,” Giorgio added with a smirk.

“And others,” Magnolia repeated in a stupid tone, playfully rolling her eyes at him. Dev's eyes jumped between them. He nodded at what Magnolia told him “I’m a chef. Well, a baker.” She stated. Dev's eyes gleamed at that, and he was about to say something to her about her occupation before Giorgio cut in.

“A Chef.” He retorted firmly, looking down at her with a small frown. “What did I tell you about cutting yourself short? You are a chef.” He said, and Magnolia softly rolled her eyes at him again, looking down at her hands, though she couldn’t hide the soft smile on her face at his words.

“All I know how to really do is bake.” She said softly, looking up at Dev as if she was answering him. He could only offer her a polite smile back before her eyes drifted away and toward the man who stood next to them.

“You make amazing pastries for two a five start restaurants.” At this point, he had leaned down, slightly holding his weight on the table with his hands so he could be closer to Magnolia. Magnolia looked him in the eye, her face as neutral as it could be due to his praise. As if this proximity for them was normal as if they did this all the time and were fine. Dev, on the other hand, was not fine. He raised his hands from the table, leaning his back against the cushion leather seat of the booth. His brows twitched into a frown, staring the at side of the man’s head as his view of Magnolia was almost blocked. Almost.

“In the diner, you may be the baker, but at Augusto’s Chevalier, you’re a chef.” He explained, never once taking his eyes off the woman next to him. “You think they differentiate all that back there in that kitchen?” Magnolia squinted her eyes at him with a slight tilt of her head.

“They literally do?…in every kitchen.” She said, understanding the point her good friend was trying to make but also not seeing how a restaurant business mogul didn’t know such a thing.

“Yeah, whatever.” He said with a shrug as he waved her off playfully.

She rolled her eyes at him again. “Are you gonna take our order or not Mr. Hotshot?” She asked with a playful smirk, looking at the man decked in a nice suit and gold jewelry whose face stood only a few feet away from hers. She caught sight of Dev’s bright eyes next to his briefly, staring at her intensely. She felt a chill run down her spine at the gaze, but her eyes never directly met his.

“No, actually. I just came to speak.” He said to her with a small smile. He then turned his head, giving the man next to them a sideways glance and another once-over. He let out a dry chortle that was barely audible before rising from his relaxed position to stand fully. “This is just for show.” He said, gesturing to the pen and paper he’d gathered from his large blazer.

“Good, because we’re not even ready to order,” Magnolia said. Giorgio just hummed with a nod, giving her face one last good look. “It was nice seeing you, Magnolia.” He practically purred, his eyes trained on her face. Magnolia nodded at his words. “It was nice seeing you again too, G.” She said, giving him a soft smile. Giorgio couldn’t help but smile at the name, his perfect teeth showing as he looked at her, gleaming in contrast to his chocolate skin. He blinked before his gaze drifted to the other man at the booth. He nodded his head down at Dev before walking away from them, passing by Magnolia.

Dev sat there, watching the man leave their table. He didn’t even offer a nod back to Giorgio. He just stayed in place, a stone-cold look on his face, even when Giorgio glanced back at Magnolia with a smirk, said woman eyeing the menu. His eyes drifted to Dev’s, his grin turning more sinister before leaving his eyesight.

“Not gonna lie, I could go for a butter pecan.” He was snapped out of his trance at the sound of the woman mumbling to herself. “I’m definitely getting up there because I used to hate that shit.” She let out a small chortle of herself. Dev’s gaze moved across her form, not speaking as he continued to think about the interaction between Giorgio and Magnolia. “I never had pistachio, maybe I should try that.” She said, continuing her search, unbeknownst of the watching eyes she had on her.

She then looked up, slightly shaken to see the man’s gaze on her already but didn’t speak on it. “I’m gonna start you off simple with a waffle cone and some chocolate ice cream. I know vanilla is more basic, but I said simple, not plain.” She stated, waving her finger about as she explained the rundown to him, her abundance of jewelry clinging about. “But don’t get me wrong, I love a good vanilla. Especially a homemade one? Tuh! Word around town is your girls makes the best.”

“I think Giorgio wants to hook up with you.”

Magnolia’s head jerked back at Dev’s statement as her smile dropped. “What?” Her face contorted between confusion and disgust but also a little bit of intrigue as she tried to gather what Dev saw. “No, I’m positive he does not.” She said, letting out a nervous laugh at what her newfound friend said.

“He was acting a little like Jess.” Dev continued, not taking his eyes away from the woman in front of him. “Just a little different.”

“That’s just how we interact here.” She said softly, sitting forward more in her seat to lean closer to him as she began to explain. “He’s technically my boss and I’m his worker. In today’s time, to create a more healthy work environment, bosses tend to be friendly to their staff so what they’re doing isn’t considered slave labor.” She said letting out a small chuckle. “That and so their bond is somewhat like a work family and that there’s a trust put into everything said company produces.” She explained. She then worked her head, looking him in the eye. “We’re just friends.” She said softly. “Barely even that, we’ve never even gone out for a beverage.”

“He looks at you a lot,” Dev continued to comment, his face still the same even though this warm feeling spread through him at the way she was gazing at him over the table. He had subconsciously leaned forward in his seat and against the table, the pair sitting closer to one another.

“That’s what we do here. Eye contact is expected in most settings.” She said, her eyes stuck on his. They were practically whispering now, faces sort of close as they leaned across the table. “I mean, look at us now. I look at you, you look at me.”

“That is because we are having a conversation.”

“Were me and Giorgio not having a conversation?”

“Yes, but even when you weren’t looking at him, he was looking at you. Everywhere.”

“You look at me all the time.” Magnolia was quick to add to their small and somewhat silent argument, ignoring the last part about Giorgio’s eyes drifting over her figure when she wasn’t looking.

“I am observing because I am new here. What’s his excuse?” Dev added with a small tilt of his head. Magnolia let up a quick gasp at his words, looking him up and down. “Oh, you’re a little sassy when you want to be.” She said with a playful grin. Dev’s face stayed stoic, causing her to let out a small laugh. “Dev, relax and pick out an ice cream door before it gets dark out.” She said, jerking her head out of the window at the cloud-covered sun. “I hate driving in the dark.” She said softly before going back to her menu.

Dev blinked at her before looking down at his menu in front of him, both still leaned forward on the table as they observed what they were going to have.

His mind was clouded, full of questions and thoughts regarding not only the ones Ms out of his new life, it whatever was going on between Giorgio and Magnolia. Dev was no stranger to emotions, as oddly as he acted about them. He’d never really felt such staring emotions about anyone, not even his intended, but he’s seen those who have. And he could see that there were feelings between the two, even if it was one-sided. And something was telling him that Giorgio was the one that fancied her more, which caused this acidic feeling to enter the back of his throat and made his face want to contort into a scowl.

Giorgio rubbed him the wrong way and it’s not just because he’s into Magnolia. Although, Dev wasn’t quite sure why that last part bothered him more.

Magnolia on the other hand was simply a little confused. This had been the first time anyone had ever told her such a thing about her and Giorgio. Although they weren’t friends who went out anywhere, they’ve been around and conversed with others, and nothing of the sort has ever come up. She didn’t know what Dev saw, or if she could even trust his judgment since he was new to earth and e everything.

What bothered her most was that she wasn’t sure if she disliked the thought of Giorgio liking her. It was her boss after all and that wouldn’t be good for business, so she was more than likely never going to outside anything, but she couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man. A wealthy attractive man with a Brooklyn accent that dressed well. To Magnolia, he was a city boy through and through, and that intrigued her southern little behind. He was no blue-collar man, but she wasn’t picky and didn’t necessarily have a type. She was just used to one thing. All that to say is it were true, she wouldn’t mind hopping on the ride.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Dev’s speaking.

“I don’t want to hook up with Jess either.” He said, causing her to look and connect their eyes. “Ever.” He finished. Magnolia blinked in confusion before simply nodding. “Okay.” She said before looking back down at her menu. Dev frowned, looking at the top of her head.

“And you don’t want to hook up with Giorgio, right?” He questioned. Magnolia let out a small laugh before looking back up at him. “No, I do not, Dev.” She said softly, looking into his eyes, which were now a soft green. Even though she sort of contradicted her previous thoughts, she was telling the truth, she didn’t necessarily want to hook up with him. Dev’s eyes jumped between hers, trying to see if he could almost sense a lie from her. He then blinked with a nod. “Good.” He said, looking at her intensely before going back to his menu. Magnolia frowned in confusion at him in what he meant by that but was cut off by Dev speaking again.

“When do we get this ice cream? Where is it coming from?” He asked, looking over his shoulder as he observed the thing in the diner. Magnolia pursed her lips, watching him.

“There's so much you have to learn, honeybun, so when we get home, we’re watching movies.” She said. “There’s only so much I can do for you, sweet pea.” She said as she shook her head with a sad smile.

If you want to be added to the tag list, just leave a comment and let a sista know.

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[janaelalfysloml]

you’re gonna go far - pazzi x reader

a/n: okay this is based off a thing that @starlighttsv posted ! this story is gonna have things abt suicide , mental health and all of that stuff so if your not comfortable please dont read ! ilysm and if anybody needs anything im here or you can text or call 988 !

warnings: maybe typos? , suicide , death , mental health , grief , antidepressants

November 18th, 2024

you’ve always had mental health issues, but never like this. you’re psychiatrist prescribed you lexapro to help with your depression & anxiety , but they haven’t helped. you’ve talked to paige and azzi about you mental health , and they’ve helped but they haven’t thoughts are still there. just recently you’ve been getting suicidal thoughts. you spent all of your nights studying & wondering about what life would be like if you were no longer here. schools been torturing you and you dont feel happy anymore. you wanted to reach out to someone, but you didn’t want to feel like a burden. you decided to take a nap to clear your mind for a couple of hours.

November 21st, 2024

you decided that tomorrow was the day. you’ve dealt with everything for way to long and you couldn’t take it. you spent the whole day talking with paige and azzi , trying to make the most out of your time with them. they wouldn’t have known that you were choosing to make a decision that you could never take back. “we should go out and do something fun! your always in the house” azzi told you, as you went to your room to get ready. you put on some jeans with a brown shirt and your uggs.

you guys drove to the apple orchard, something you haven’t dont since you were little. you tried your best to make the most out of the day and tried to be happy with them. paige put her arm around you while you guys walked. it made you feel good and you started to regret what you were going to do tonight. “i love you so much, yknow?” paige said as she kissed your hand. “we should go to target, the apartment is missing some things.” azzi said as she skipped ahead of you guys.

paige and azzi were out , they had a late practice today. you finished cleaning and restocking the apartment , when your thoughts came back. you went and laid in your bed as you wrote your final notes to everyone you loved. you were set on this , eventually you texted and left some voicemails for paige and azzi. you felt so empty, so alone . you didn’t want to die, you just wanted your thoughts and feelings to stop. you walked into the walk in closet of your room that you shared with paige and azzi . you grabbed the chair , tied the knot , and hung yourself.

after paige & azzis practice

“why’d y/n call us so many times?” paige asked as she walked to her car. “i have like 80 voicemails from her, it’s weird.” azzi said as her and paige drove off.

“hey y/n?” paige shouted as she walked into the apartment, unaware of what she was about to see. she eventually made her way into the walk in closet and saw you. “shit,” paige said as she tried to get you down. “azzi call someone, she’s not breathing.” paige said as she laid you on the floor, trying everything & praying that somehow you’d wake up, knowing deep down that you never would.

eventually, help came. paige and azzi wrote the handwritten notes that you had left for them, and the rest of your loved ones. in your note, you apologized that they found you this way and that you were sorry for being selfish because you took your life. “she was so happy, and full of life, what happened? what did we do?” azzi said, her eyes were red and puffy from how much she cried. they would always be scarred for life, because of how they had found you. “did we say something, or do something? we were always with her when we could be.” paige said, she was numb, inside and out. “i can’t do the game tomorrow without her. i dont want to.” paige added on.

a/n: okay yall i physically cannot finish this im litterally sobbing what. this is the most thought I’ve ever put into a story and im proud. @starlighttsv i hope this is what you were asking for !! also my dms are always open to anyone! i love u so much y’all!!

[jaegeraether]

Unknown Territory (Alexia and Ridley)

(*5k*)

Masterlist (other parts here)

RIDLEY POV

Ridley was in unknown territory. Never before had she needed to communicate her personal decisions, especially knowing that Alexia wouldn’t exactly be happy with what had happened.

She wasn’t meant to have been on the front line, directly in the line of fire. Unfortunately though, it had happened. She knew Alexia had been stressed lately with the two of them being apart for over a month, along with her being hard on herself for missing a penalty in the Olympics and subsequently pushing herself five times harder following it. Ridley had wished she could have come home for it, but she’d been far too deep into an operation. Only at this moment did she finally have a spare second to worry about something other than trying to keep her and her team alive.

Not wanting to give her anymore stress, and almost completely out of her area of expertise, she called the one person she knew would understand and give the best advice.

“Riddles!” YFN answered enthusiastically, even though she was most likely doing ten different things at once.

“Hey baby Blue.” Ridley murmured.

She heard whatever she was shuffling around pause. “Something’s wrong. What is it, Riddles?”

There she went – already knowing her far too well.

Ridley opened up about as much as she was willing to regarding her current state of mind. Knowing that the last thing she needed was to be teased, she immediately went into the part of the conversation that Ridley needed.

“Oh, Riddles. You’re okay physically?”

Ridley looked at the scrape across her arm from her wrist down and around to the outside of her elbow.

“For the most part.”

There was a pause, followed by some rustling and then her camera came on. She’d clearly moved into her office and was sporting a cute pout with her dimples on full display.

“Show me.”

Ridley rolled her eyes and turned on her camera. She let her assess her facial expression and then briefly showed her arm, assuring it was just a scrape.

“Still have all of your limbs and phalanges then?”

Ridley wiggled her fingers. “Still a platinum bisexual.”

“Riddles, you need to talk to her. I know she’s been really stressed at the moment, and missing you like crazy. Much more than she’d ever care to admit.”

“You’ve been talking to her?”

“Of course! She’s my friend.”

Ridley knew that of course, but not the extent of it. Alexia had always been a private person.

“We’ve been talking a lot at the minute,” she admitted. “I think a lot of it is because she feels closer to you when talking to me.”

She knew it was a slight hint. She didn’t even defend herself because she knew that Blue was aware of what happened when the operation was that deep into it. Instead, she brought up another concern of hers.

“I can’t leave right now. I can’t spare even the time to fly there and see her for five minutes, or I would.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Saudi.”

She grimaced. “That’s difficult. I know she needs you though, Riddles. You know you two can talk through anything, even you having to put your life on the line again. It’s completely justifiable with Wombat being hurt..”

“I can’t leave, and I don’t want her coming to Saudi in this political state. I feel like she will be more upset if I facetime her. You’ve been speaking to her lately…”

“Oh Riddles, never did I ever think you’d be calling me with relationship issues.” She chuckled softly. “I have no doubt she’ll travel to you though. She has a few days free. Where’s the farthest you can get away?”

Barely anything. “Dubai.”

Blue nodded. “How about you get a hotel in Dubai and she can meet you there?”

“I can do that.”

“You can find the time?”

“I’ll make the time.”

After her call with Blue, she felt slightly better. Her next call was to Alexia. She video called her and felt herself almost ache at the sight of a frustrated Alexia answering far too quickly.

God, that woman. She was beautiful, even as she was so obviously trying to keep her emotions in check.

They didn’t speak for a few seconds, just taking each other in. Ridley assessing Alexia’s emotions and Alexia assessing her for injuries.

“Hola,” Alexia eventually said, softly.

“Hi, love.” Ridley responded in Catalan.

The sound of her voice made Alexia smile the slightest.

“Lex, there was an incident-”

“Is everyone okay?”  Those eyes betrayed just how worried she was about Ridley being off on operation.

“Everyone is alive. Wombat… he was injured. Pinned down. I had to intercede.”

Realisation. “You went into combat?”

“I had to.” She murmured. “Or we would have lost him.”

A pause before her face softened a little. “He’s okay now?”

Ridley sucked in a breath. “He’s still in critical care. They got him pretty good. I managed to extract him.”

Alexia nodded, her brain working overtime.

“Lex, this is why I need to be here. If I wasn’t there-”

“I know.” She whispered, her voice getting husky. “I know.”

“I can work second line. I get it. I have you now, I have something to come home to. But there will be operations that I need to come to.”

Alexia cleared her throat. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for your Olympics.” She said guiltily, for what seemed like the fifth time.

Alexia was not the type of person who wanted sympathy. So instead of making her feel guilty, she simply gave a small, encouraging smile. “I’m sorry I’m not there to comfort you while your brother is in hospital.”

Her heart softened. Alexia. “But could you be..?”

“I… where are you?”

“I’m in Saudi, but I can get to Dubai. Blue said you have a few days off. I don’t want to make you travel unnecessarily, though.”

Emotions flickered across her face and she tried to cover it. “I can come.”

“I’ll find a flight and send details.”

“How long can I stay?”

“However long you can be away from Barca.”

“Lee-”

“I’ll find the time, Lex. Just… come.”

“Okay.”

ALEXIA POV

The private jet Ridley had organised landed in Dubai in the afternoon when the sun had just started to set. As soon as the engines were turned off and the door was opened, customs agents came on board to check passports and visas. She had hitched a ride with a well-off family, most of who couldn’t speak a word of English or Spanish besides the father who had been lovely and offered her everything he had.

She knew by his hospitality that he knew Ridley and they had some form of a professional relationship there. There was a lot of respect.

The first customs agent to approach Alexia also couldn’t speak English, nor Spanish. It was surprising to her at first as English was so widely spoken in Dubai, though this was a smaller, private airport.

Seeing that the owner of the jet was busy with the other agent, she was slightly flustered as Ridley had organised her paperwork. She showed her passport and when the agent gestured for more, her heart sunk.

She was finally in Dubai, where Ridley was, and she had to leave again.

Fuck.

Before it became a problem, a voice sounded from the front of the aircraft. She didn’t understand the language, but she did know the voice. Alexia peered past the agent to see Ridley in an all-black suit looking so attractive her breath caught. She handed the agent some paperwork and barely looking at it, he nodded and gave Alexia a smile before leaving.

Ridley said her hellos to the man and his family before getting to her.

She filled her presence with immediate warmth and calm and that nostalgic smell of her perfume washed over her. Woody, spicy, with a sweet hint of musk. She looked up at the slightly taller woman, into those dark eyes with playful gold flecks dancing.

She wanted to touch her, kiss her, anything. But this was Dubai. And in Dubai, homosexuality was illegal. She’d need to take Ridley’s lead.

Surprisingly, the Australian leant into her in a way much more than two female friends. The side of her forehead touched Alexia’s, her body leaning into her own. God, she missed her.

She felt Ridley’s body relax against hers.

“Alexia,” she murmured quietly, as if all of her problems had faded away with her arrival. “You came.”

Alexia pressed into her, nodding. Of course she did.

Ridley pressed an impassioned kiss to her forehead before pulling away and pausing to look at her necklace. “No happy sun?” She asked in Catalan.

The stars.

She had turned it around, like she usually did when she was without her.

When she didn’t respond, Ridley reach out and touched it gently before grabbing her bag. “Is this all you had?”

“I have a small suitcase..”

“Already in the car, Lex.”

She secretly loved how organised she was. Always taking the pressure off of her. Ridley was her escape from all of that.

“Then yes.”

“Good. Come.”

They drove in silence though it was anything but uncomfortable. Alexia held Ridley’s thigh as she drove, the Australian gently stroking her hand as she did so. It felt… right.

As Ridley turned the steering wheel, she caught a glimpse of a bandage well-hidden and felt her worry rise. To distract herself, she looked at Ridley as she drove; her sharp, dark features illuminated under the city lights, and reminded herself that she was in fact, very real.

Fuck, I missed you, she thought.

Ridley took interest in a police car flying past and smirked.

Alexia’s heart melted. I missed you.

Eyes back in front of her, Ridley continued to stroke those gentle patterns into the back of her hand, sending shivers throughout her body.

Wait, why am I so stubbornly keeping this to myself? She thought. She’s my partner.

“I missed you.” Alexia said quietly and watched Ridley’s jaw flex and her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

“I could say the same but it would be the understatement of the year.”

Fuck.

Alexia moved her hand up her muscled thigh further, gliding over the fabric of her pants until her pinky was resting against her core. Ridley shifted her hips to press into her ever so slightly and the part Alexia loved most, was that it seemed like an unconscious thing.

“Keep going, Lex, and I’ll pull this car over and fuck you right here.” She turned to look at her, those gold flecks now still and serious. “Until your body fucking gives out.”

Alexia shivered with lust, but she didn’t move. She kept her hand there, pressed up against her, the car now feeling so tense with need.

They arrived at the hotel and pulled up at the front door valet. Ridley removed Alexia’s hand from her thigh and kissed it before she opened the door. It was her way of apologising, but her eyes said she wanted to tear the clothes from her body.

Ridley took her bag and Alexia followed her lead inside and to the elevators. They were granted their privacy and Alexia was pleasantly surprised at that, given they were two women sharing accommodation. As the elevator doors closed, Ridley pressed herself up against the wall opposite Alexia and tilted her head, looking her up and down. She saw her hands flexing as if to try and keep them to herself and the Spaniard smiled to herself, turning away to try and stop herself moving towards her.

Fuck, she missed this.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“You existing doesn’t make this easy.” Ridley quipped back, her gaze not moving.

Alexia watched the levels move past far too slowly for her liking and rolled her neck, closing her eyes, in an attempt to get through. Just a few more levels.

Eventually the elevator stopped and just when she thought she wasn’t going to move, Ridley swept deliberately into her space, and out the doors, brushing her arm as she went by.

Fuck.

She followed her to their accommodation and stepped through the door Ridley was holding open for her, gesturing her in while she stayed at the door.

“Go. Explore.”

It was just as spectacular as she’d imagined it to be, and more. Very Ridley-style. Sleek, modern, minimalistic with a refined culture about it. The view over to the Burj Khalifa was spectacular, and visible from not only their bed, but the shower and bath too. She ran her hand over the marble of the bathroom counter, smiling at Ridley’s things all set out how she liked. Curious, she opened the drawer at the bottom to reveal what she knew she’d find, and yet was still surprised by. Toys.

That was Ridley, always prepared. Biting her lip, she closed it.

“Thank you.” She heard Ridley say at the door.

Ah – her suitcase.

Moving back into the bedroom, she tried to ignore how tantalising the bed looked after her flight, and instead opened the wardrobe to find the few things Ridley had brought with her all neatly arranged on her side, and Alexia’s side free besides a black garment bag and a pair of heels. Zipping it down slightly, she found a stunning black satin dress in her own size. For her?

Hearing Ridley walk in and lay the suitcase on the table, she turned with a question in her eyes.

“I have a dinner reservation for us. We can go now, later or not at all. I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Alexia replied, gesturing to her clothes. “I love your suit.”

Ridley smiled, always proud of her sense of fashion. Something they shared. “Thank-”

“Take it off.”

Ridley’s lips parted, caught off guard. Alexia loved doing that. She took one step forwards and sat on the end of the bed.

“Now.”

She smartly closed her mouth and began undressing, starting with her rings and cufflinks while Alexia watched every single piece of clothing being removed and laid out carefully on the back of the chair. She was turned around, so Alexia could only see her from behind, but that was more than enough.

She admired those back muscles of hers, her naked ass and thighs, the cropped shaggy hair at the back of her neck, and sneakily, she wanted to see how injured she was.

There were a few scrapes and bruises here and there, though as she turned around to face her, there were less on her front which was good. Her arm, though. The bandage spread from her wrist up and around to the inside of her elbow. Alexia studied it, and then the rest of her naked body with a patience she didn’t have in the elevator.

She loved the way her hair hung around her sharp jaw, the way the arteries in her neck were visible whenever she turned her head, her well-earned biceps, veiny hands, strong abs extending down into a sharp V that cut away at her hips. Thigh muscles that showed even when standing still, right down to her bare feet standing gently on the soft carpet, and back up.

Perfectly neat, manicured and clean. Perfectly… Ridley.

Mine. The voice in her head claimed fiercely.

Her eyes found the bandage again. Before she could speak, Ridley stepped forwards and knelt in front of her, her hand on Alexia’s thighs.

“Just a scratch, Lex. It’s nothing big, I promise.”

Alexia ran her hand down the bandage, feeling that there were only a few stitches along the line. “Would you have told me if I weren’t coming to Dubai?”

Only honestly reflected in those eyes. “Yes.”

Her hands moved across Ridley’s strong, naked shoulders and up into her shaggy, dark hair where they found purchase. She gripped on, pulling her head back.

“Care to explain to me why there are sex toys in the bathroom?”

Ridley chuckled, enjoying her hair being tugged on. “I wanted to be prepared. I didn’t know what you’d want from me…”

It was an honest statement. Ridley admitting she wasn’t too great at relationships. Alexia’s hands eased a bit as she softened for her.

“You want to abuse me about my arm? Go ahead. You want to tell me how awful I am for missing out on your Olympics campaign? I’ll take it. You just want to sit apart in a room in silence for 2 days? Sure. I don’t care. As long as I’m in the same fucking room as you.”

“Lee..” she whispered, every ounce of la Reina disappearing from her.

“You missed me, Lex? I fucking mourn you every day we’re apart. Just ask the team. I’m a fucking grump.”

God, if she wasn’t practically dripping already, that would certainly do it. She leant forwards and pressed her forehead against Ridley’s.

“So what do you want from me..?” She asked softly.

Unable to stop herself any longer, Alexia’s mouth found Ridley’s desperately. Passionately. And more than willing under her own. As their lips parted and their tongues brushed, Ridley groaned, her arms sliding up Alexia’s thighs, around to her lower back and under her pants to her ass.

“Being prepared is always good.” Alexia admitted breathily against her mouth.

“Answer the question before I go mad,” she responded in a desperate tone that Alexia loved.

Her hand closed around her throat to stop her mouth on hers for a second, but Ridley was strong and liked the feeling, pushing against it so she could find her neck.

God, her mouth on her neck.

Fuck.

“What do I want from you?” She gasped as Ridley pushed harder against her hand, her mouth finding that sensitive spot just below her ear. “Everything. Always. I want you.. fuck.. inside me. I want to be inside you. I want you over me. Under me. I want everything. I want all of you. Always.”

Alexia had to grip Ridley’s throat with both hands just to push her back and fuck, was it a sight. Her eyes were dark, hooded and lustful. When Alexia squeezed, they rolled back slightly.

She loved that.

Her thumb stroked across the scar on her cheek, her lips finding the one closer to her hairline.

“All of you.”

Ridley moaned.

“Fuck me, Ridley.”

She let go on her throat suddenly, the blood rushing back into her cheeks as Ridley pulled the pants off from under her. She slid them down her legs, along with the shoes and socks, working her way back up the insides of her thighs with her mouth and fingers until she was at Alexia’s obvious arousal.

Gently lowering herself and lifting her legs over her shoulders, Ridley’s mouth found her core and tasted the excitement that had built up over the past hour.

She groaned into her, as if starved from it for too long and slid her tongue inside to taste what she could. Alexia gripped into her hair for dear life.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Ridley groaned again, her tongue moving up through her to her clit where she worked her exactly how she liked. Not too fast, not too slow, flat tongue dragging across her clit from bottom to top like a fucking icecream.

Alexia wanted to scream. To cry out. She whimpered, her body tensing as she tried to keep it together.

Fuck she’d missed this.

She’d missed her.

Not just the sex, her fucking partner.

Ridley adjusted a little and then Alexia felt her hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, her fingers stroking through her wet mess just under her mouth to her entrance. As her mouth kept harassing her clit, she slid just the very tip of her fingers in and out, working her up.

How had she gone so long without her?

Home.

She was her fucking home.

Ridley slid her fingers in slowly, as if enjoying feeling her around them, her fingers curling around into that perfect g-spot where the large group of nerves under her clit sat. Her curled fingers pressed down hard, circling there.

And just like that, there was no hope for her. Her clit being stimulated from both directions, Ridley’s groaning, her sure tongue, strong shoulders where her legs were hung over, the pads of her fingers expertly fucking her just right.

She felt her body tightening up, being taken so fucking high so quickly. And after a month apart? After the Olympics? After missing Ridley? She needed this.

She tried to bite back her cries into whimpers as she came, but could barely manage it. Alexia was a mess.

Ridley rode her through it, her tongue being replaced by the pressure of her thumb, and her fingers still working inside her.

Somehow Ridley was moving, Alexia felt shifted backwards as she clenched, her back touching the bed and Ridley’s body above her, fingers holding pressure now.

When she could finally breathe, she did just so, though she had barely sucked in air when Ridley’s fingers started pumping in and out of her.

Oh, fuck.

She clawed at her back, trying to do anything to stop herself from coming too quickly when that’s all her body wanted. She’d never felt so comfortable in her body as when she was with Ridley. There was never any judgement for anything she wanted or felt. She encouraged it all out of her, like she never believed was possible.

“You’re my life.” Ridley grunted against her neck, her bicep flexing as she fucked her.

Alexia arched her back and held on.

She curled her fingers hard, fucking her until Alexia was frustrated at her clothing. She needed to be closer. Skin on skin. She dragged her shirt and bra up over her head, Ridley grunting, unimpressed at being interrupted from her sucking of her throat.

Better.

“Spread.”

She did as she was told, spreading her legs apart and rocking into the strong, steady thrusts of her Australian.

Fuck.

“Use your words, Lex. Be a good girl.” She encouraged as she fucked deeper, harder. “I want to hear it all.”

Up until then, she’d been trying too hard to keep it all inside. Ridley was right.

“Fuck…” she whimpered. “Fuck.. fuck. Argh.”

I love you.

“All of it,” Ridley growled, biting her neck.

“I.. I love you. I… fuck. I m..iss you. I love you. Fuck me.”

“That’s it, my girl. I want to hear every thought in your head.”

“I’m y…yours. Please don’t stop.” She cried, letting herself fall into a state of submission that only Ridley could draw out of her.

“Not if the fucking building collapsed.”

“You’re my home. I love you. I love you, Ridley.”

She felt the shiver run down Ridley’s back under her hands. Ridley’s mouth found her ear, and if she wasn’t wet enough from her fucking, the sweet sounds of squeezing, fucking wetness, then Ridley’s gasps in her ear would have done it.

“I’m yours, Alexia. All of me. Always. I love you.”

Ridley wasn’t the type to say something for the sake of it, or because it was what she wanted to hear. She only said it when she felt it so deeply that she couldn’t last a second more without letting it out.

And at that knowledge, Alexia came hard around her fingers.

“Jesus,” Ridley complimented as her fingers were sucked into her and clenched around. “Fuuuck Lex.”

A twitching, sweaty, wet mess was exactly what Alexia was. But she hadn’t felt so relaxed and at ease in a long time. She closed her eyes and felt her body release that tension it had been holding onto for a month, the anxiety and pressure it had clung onto since she’d missed her penalty at the Olympics.

It was just her, and Ridley.

No amount of sex or masturbation could give her that. It was just… them. Her. The person she fell asleep dreaming about every night. The one she often fell into a daydream about. The person who could sense her emotions better than she could.

She breathed out her tension audibly, noticing that Ridley was no longer inside her, but her body was still warm against her own, softly stroking her skin and giving her the time she needed.

She remembered back to Blau’s official launching of Lumos, and to the party that had followed. Somewhere along the way, Alexia had lost Ridley as she’d been dragged away by people wanting to talk to “La Reina.”

She’d lost everyone she knew at that point and had felt her anxiety creeping up around so many unknown people. When it threatened to take over, she’d looked up and caught Ridley’s eyes.

Somehow, she’d known before Alexia even had, and was already making her way through the crowd to her.

She’d come up close, her arm weaving around her waist, Alexia's over her shoulder and holding each other close. Just like that, her anxiety had disappeared just as fast as it had arrived.

She felt fingertips gently stroking her cheek, around her ear, down to her jaw and along it.

“Daydreaming about me, are we?”

Without opening her eyes, Alexia smiled. “Cocky.”

“Mmn, I’ll take that as a yes. You need to teach your facial expressions how to use their inside voice.”

Alexia chuckled and turned to kiss the palm of her hand now stroking through her blonde hair. She opened her eyes to see Ridley calmly studying her. “It’s only because you know me so annoyingly well.”

“Mmnhmn.” She watched her for a little longer, her fingers stroking through her hair so gently that Alexia could have fallen asleep happy right then and there. “What would you like now, Lex?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Those gold flecks danced. “Try me.”

Alexia shifted, pushed Ridley onto her back and hovering low over her. So low her tits were brushing against Ridley’s own, her blonde hair curtaining around her face. Her leg came up Ridley’s and pressed her thigh against her own obvious arousal. The feeling of her wet against her thigh almost had her changing her mind. Ridley grabbed her ass, one of her favourite things along with her thighs, and squeezed, her eyes rolling back slightly as Alexia worked her mouth up her neck slowly, ending on her lips which she brushed over with a gentleness.

“I want to get you so frustrated that later tonight, you’ll be begging for la Reina.”

Ridley groaned in protest as Alexia stood suddenly, leaving her naked and needy on the bed.

“Now come fuck me in the shower and take me to dinner.”

RIDLEY POV

Ridley had thought she’d been prepared for everything. An angry Alexia, pissed off at her for the Olympics. A worried one, seeing her bandage. A heartbroken one, wanting to rethink them as the distance was hurting her.

Not once did she imagine Alexia to be so… fucking perfect. Frustratingly so. So needy and excited and loving and understanding of everything in its entirely.

After their rather exasperating shower in which Ridley was even more worked up by her, they got dressed. Ridley, into her tailored black suit and Alexia, into the dress she had made for her specially. She had no idea if she’d be getting Alexia or la Reina, whether she’d be feeling feminine or more androgynous, but she had taken a guess. And fuck, was she right.

Alexia walked in front of her at the restaurant, her independent side coming out more now that she’d had some stress relief and clothes to help her feel beautiful. Which was the understatement of the century.

The black dress, made to suit Ridley’s suit fit her perfectly, hugging her hips and ass. God, was she obsessed with that. The control it took to not reach out and lay her hand on it, making sure everyone knew that she was hers.

Her hair fell wavy down around her shoulders, and she was even Ridley’s height with the heels on.

She wore a few accessories that she’d chosen herself. Rings, a bracelet, earring and the sunshine necklace, though now it was turned around to show the happy sun.

They sat down to eat, trying their best to not touch each other in public. Ridley eventually gave up and leant her leg against her own under the table which sufficed her for the time being. After their starters and a few glasses of wine, they ordered their mains and while they were waiting, Alexia ducked off to the bathroom. Ridley watched her go, curious if she was being sneaky and trying to give them her credit card to pay before she could.

But she didn’t. She headed straight to the bathroom, and straight back.

As she arrived back, she sat just as the mains arrived. They would do their typical thing of sharing half a meal each, as delicious as they both looked.

Alexia smiled and thanked the server as he left. Watching him go, she turned back to Ridley.

“Shall we eat?”

Alexia gave her a look. “As long as you’re not too full to eat tonight.”

Christ.

“I will never be too full for that. And I will never be fully fucking satiated by tasting you either.” She murmured low enough that others couldn’t hear.

“Good.” She smiled and then reached her hand across the table. “You dropped this.”

Please don’t be my fucking credit card the sneaky-

As soon as she took hold of it, she froze, jaw locking and eyes closing while she tried to control herself.

Alexia crossed her legs and began to eat her meal while Ridley slipped her underwear into her pocket.

[vanilladollette]

Hey girl wassup, can you write about sweet female reader, with (all the characters if that's okay for u, if no, then jae Joon)

Female reader who is friends with Dong Eun and she had no idea that burns were from the bullies, and didn't know that jae Joon was apart of the incident, and when Dong exposes jae Joon, female reader goes from sweet to cold towards Jae Joon and breaks up with him, and lends him to be yandere.

(ALSO GIRL I WANNA SAY THAT I LOVE YOUR THE GLORY X READER ON, WATTPAD ♡ )

The Sweetest Poison

Pairing: Yandere Jeon Jae-Joon x Fem! Sweet Reader

Word count: 1.75k

Summary:After learning you left him upon discovering his past as your best friend's bully, Jae-Joon's heartbreak twists into a dangerous obsession.

Warnings: Bullying, Burns, toxic, violent behavior, cursing

A/n: I'm glad that you like Beneath The Surface!!! This took me awhile to write but thank you for being patient with me. Anyways, I hope you like this!

You couldn’t believe it, even as you replayed her words in your head. The signs were all there, and yet somehow, you’d missed them. How could you have missed something like that?

When Moon Dong-eun, your friend from high school, had contacted you, you were thrilled. It had been years since you’d last seen her. Her message had been brief, almost cryptic, saying she needed to talk about something important in person. Curious and eager, you’d agreed to meet her at a quiet café downtown.

As you approached the agreed-upon spot, you saw her sitting alone at a corner table. Dong-eun looked different but not unrecognizable. Her posture was composed, her expression serene yet distant, like someone who had seen too much and learned to mask it well. You felt a pang of nostalgia as memories of the once cheerful, soft-spoken girl from high school resurfaced.

“Dong-eun!” you greeted warmly, sliding into the seat across from her. “It’s been so long. How are you?”

Her smile was faint but sincere. “Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you.” Her voice had a weight to it, as though each word carried unspoken emotions.

The two of you exchanged pleasantries. You told her how you’d thought about her over the years, wondering where she’d gone and what had happened after she left school. You mentioned how devastated you were when you found her house empty, with no way to contact her.

“I’ve been well,” she said, her tone polite but guarded. “After leaving school, I went to college to study education. I’m a teacher now.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful!” you exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “I wouldn’t have guessed you wanted to be a teacher back then.”

“What about you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “How have you been?”

You gave a small laugh. “Oh, nothing as exciting as becoming a teacher, that’s for sure. Just working and… you know, living life.”

As the conversation lingered, you couldn’t help but feel there was something unsaid, something heavier lurking beneath her calm demeanor. Finally, you decided to ask.

“Anyway,” you began, leaning forward slightly, “what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Dong-eun hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of her cup. Her gaze flickered downward for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft but deliberate.

“You know,” she said, almost wistfully, “I always wondered how someone as kind as you could be so close to him.”

Her words caught you off guard. Him? You blinked, your head tilting in confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her eyes met yours, searching your face as though gauging your reaction. Finally, she asked, “Do you know why I dropped out of high school?”

You nodded slowly. “You were being bullied. I assumed that was the reason… that you didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice steady. “But I never told you who my bullies were.”

A chill ran down your spine. Something in her tone made your stomach knot. You stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

She took a deep breath, her fingers now toying with the hem of her sleeve. “One of them was Jae-joon,” she said finally, her words landing like a thunderclap. “He was one of them.”

Your breath caught. Jae-joon? You stared at her, your mind racing. Jae-joon, the same person you’d been close to all these years? The same person you’d trusted, laughed with, maybe even defended? The shock on your face must have been evident, because Dong-eun gave a sad, knowing smile.

“I’m guessing he never told you,” she said, her voice tinged with resignation. “I didn’t think he would. Why would he admit something like that to you?”

You were at a loss for words. Memories of Jae-joon flooded your mind—his easy smile, his charm, the way he always seemed so confident. You couldn’t reconcile the image of him with what Dong-eun was telling you. But then you thought about her, about how she’d suddenly vanished from your life, leaving no trace. And you realized… maybe you’d never really known Jae-joon as well as you thought.

“I’m sorry you had to find out from me,” Dong-eun said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but firm, her gaze unwavering.

You shook your head quickly, trying to process everything. “No… I—I needed to know.” Your voice trembled, and you suddenly felt a lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, but I… I have to go.”

Without waiting for her response, you grabbed your bag and stood. Your legs felt unsteady as you walked out of the café, the weight of her revelation pressing down on you like a heavy fog. As you stepped into the cold air, one question echoed in your mind: How had you missed it?

“Y/n, I’m home!” Jae-Joon called out from the entrance of your shared home, his voice echoing through the quiet space. The late hour clung to him like a shadow, exhaustion evident in the way he shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of a chair.

“Y/n?” he called again, his tone softening slightly when no response came.

He moved through the house, his footsteps muffled on the carpet as he checked the usual places you might be. The kitchen was empty, the living room undisturbed. A flicker of unease settled in his chest as he made his way toward the bedroom.

Pushing the door open slowly, Jae-Joon’s eyes landed on your still figure lying on the bed, your back facing him. Relief warred with apprehension as he stepped closer, his voice low and uncertain.

“Y/n?”

When you didn’t stir, he perched cautiously on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. His hand found your hip, a gesture meant to bridge the growing distance he felt between you. For a moment, he said nothing, unsure how to break the silence that had thickened between you lately.

“How was your day?” he finally asked, his voice tentative.

“Fine,” you replied curtly, your tone as cold as the wall you stared at.

Jae-Joon’s shoulders sagged under the weight of your indifference. The silence returned, heavier than before. Sighing, he rose and left the room to prepare for bed, the unspoken words hanging in the air like ghosts.

The next morning, Jae-Joon woke to find the bed empty. He blinked at the sunlight filtering through the curtains, assuming you were already up. The faint clink of dishes guided him to the kitchen, where he found you seated at the table with a bowl of untouched cereal in front of you. Your gaze was fixed on some indiscernible point ahead, your posture rigid.

“Morning,” he greeted, though the lightness in his tone faltered when you didn’t respond. Shrugging it off, he began rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat.

“When were you going to tell me that you gave Dong-eun those burns?”

Your voice cut through the stillness. Jae-Joon froze, his hand hovering over the coffee pot. Slowly, he turned to face you, his expression a mixture of confusion and unease.

“What?” he managed, his voice strained.

“Or were you just hoping I’d never find out?” Your voice trembled, though your eyes remained fixed ahead.

Jae-Joon’s throat tightened. “Who told you? Did Dong-eun tell you?” He approached the table, his movements deliberate.

“Answer my question,” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. Your red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks were like a punch to his gut. “Were you ever planning to tell me, Jae-Joon? Or did you think you could hide the fact that you were my best friend’s bully?”

His jaw clenched as anger flared in his eyes, a defense mechanism against the guilt clawing at him. “What did she tell you?” he demanded, his voice rising.

“Why are you so worried about what she said? Is it because it’s true?” you shot back, standing up abruptly.

The two of you locked eyes, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. You didn’t wait for his response. Turning on your heel, you strode toward the bedroom.

Jae-Joon followed close behind, his stomach twisting as he watched you yank a suitcase from the closet and toss it onto the bed. His heart sank further with every article of clothing you packed.

“Wait, what are you doing?” His voice cracked, the panic unmistakable.

“I’m done, Jae-Joon,” you said, your voice rising. “We’re over.” You zipped the suitcase with trembling hands, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n, wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you made for the door, his grip firm but not forceful. “Let’s talk about this. Please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You wrenched your arm free, your voice breaking.

Jae-Joon stood frozen as you walked out the door, the sound of your suitcase wheels scraping against the floor a bitter reminder of your departure. The silence that followed was deafening.

“FUCK!” The scream tore from his throat as he hurled a lamp across the room, the crash doing little to ease the storm raging inside him.

Grabbing his phone, he scrolled furiously through his messages until he found Dong-eun’s number. His hands shook as he hit the call button, the phone pressed tightly to his ear.

After several rings, her voice came through, calm and composed. “Hello?”

“WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?” he roared, his voice laced with fury.

“Simply the truth,” Dong-eun replied coldly.

“Because of you, Y/n left me!” His voice cracked, the admission spilling out like a wound reopening.

“Did you really think she wouldn’t find out, Jae-Joon?” Dong-eun’s voice was unyielding. “She deserved to know.”

He ended the call abruptly, hurling his phone across the room. Chest heaving, he sank onto the bed, his head in his hands.

Jae-Joon sat on the edge of the bed, his breathing ragged as the room fell silent. His hands shook. You were his—his light, his purpose, his everything.

You leaving wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He’d make you see that. He’d make you come back to him, no matter what it took.

A smile—a chilling, empty smile—spread across his face. You weren’t responding now, but that was fine. He didn’t need words. He knew where you were. He’d find you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. “You’ll understand soon, Y/n. We’re meant to be.”

His heart pounded with renewed determination as he got up, his mind racing with plans. You belonged to him, and nothing would change that.

Nothing.

Taglist: @petersasteria

[juniperskye]

Turn to Stone

Based on the following ask: I'd like a Hotch x reader where reader is a professional dancer please! She gives Hotch tickets to one of the performances she's participating in. Hotch invites the rest of the team and reader gets to show off with a partner dance. I picture reader and her dance partner being like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers or Ariana Debose and David Alvarez, but if you have another pair in mind that's fine too. – Okay so I used to LOVE SYTYCD and one of my favorite contemporary duets was Melanie and Marko dancing to turn to stone. Travis Wall is an incredible choreographer!!! So that is the dance I am picturing.

Aaron Hotchner x Dancer! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 1324

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Age gap (non-specified), reader is a professional contemporary dancer, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description (she can however be lifted and participate in a contemporary dance routine), established relationship with Hotch, use of pet names let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Okay, I have your ticket at will-call, you’re gonna be there right?” You questioned nervously.

“Yes sweetheart I will be there. I have made sure consultations have been sent out and I put in a request to be off tomorrow evening. There shouldn’t be any issues.” Aaron reassured you.

“Okay! Sorry, I’m just nervous. It is a big performance, and I really want you to be there.” You rushed.

“I know, you’ve been working so hard honey, and I wouldn’t miss it.” He confirmed.

You hadn’t told Aaron that you’d actually been chosen for a partner dance with one of the guys in your company. He and you were often partnered up, even within group numbers…and that was mainly because Marko and you had incredible chemistry on stage. The two of you were able to anticipate one another’s movements without words.

You’d been rehearsing every day for weeks, the group routines and your partner routine, practicing again and again until the movements became second nature. Part of the reason you’d put so much pressure on yourself was because your partner dance would be the closing number of the entire performance.

 --

What you didn’t know was that Aaron had also been keeping a secret from you.

He’d gone ahead and invited his whole team to see your dance performance. He’d mentioned to them that it had been coming up and he expressed how proud he was and how hard you’d worked, and that led to Garcia asking if they could tag along. Who was he to say no? This was an opportunity for them to see how amazing you were.

Aaron had seen you on the stage a few times before and every time you managed to take his breath away. He was always in awe of how effortless you made your movements look and it was just incredible to see you following your dreams and expressing them so passionately. You inspired him, and he wanted to share that…to show you off to his team.

--

As the day came and went, your nerves and excitement only grew. This is how it was before every show…you’d feel a teeny tiny bit of anxiety, but your excitement would cloud it every time. You became a dancer because it was who you were, it was in your bones.

That night, Aaron made you a simple dinner of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. He knew you wouldn’t want to eat anything heavy the night before your performance. You ate while going over the highlights of your day…both omitting the fact that you both were currently holding a secret from the other.

When you two got into bed for the evening, Aaron gently rubbed and stretched your feet and ankles assisting you in working those muscles, keeping them loose and ready for your big show.

Aaron held you close that night, feeling almost giddy about the fact that he’d get to show you off tomorrow.

--

The next morning, Aaron got up and made you tea with honey, he knew you’d be up early to head to the studio.

“Thanks baby.” You whispered.

“Of course.” Aaron kissed you. “I will see you tonight, okay? You are going to be amazing.”

“Thank you Aar. I love you so much!” You hugged him.

“I love you too. Have a good day and break a leg!” He called before heading out the door.

You sipped your tea and packed the things you’d need for the day. You grabbed the lunch that Aaron packed for you – full of healthy snacks and your water bottle – and you left for the day.

Your company did some last-minute costume fittings, and makeup trials. Then they moved into stretches and warmups before shifting into a full-blown dress rehearsal.

The program was organized as such:

Full company contemporary

Men’s jazz

Women’s partner ballet

Elite company ballroom

Women’s Jazz

Couple’s partner salsa

Full company modern

Select company acro

Couple’s partner contemporary (aka your dance)

The dress rehearsal went perfectly, your director only making a few minor changes to ensure there was plenty of time for costume changes. The choreographers pulled a few people aside to give notes and ensure everyone was ready.

Your choreographer, Travis, pulled Marko and you to a studio to have you run your duet again, he wanted to push the both of you to really feel the emotion of the music and the movements. Travis was big on connection and chemistry in his routines, he wanted people to feel the emotion conveyed through your dancing. Once he felt satisfied with your progress he let you guys rest.

--

Aaron walked up to will-call to pick up the tickets, while he was waiting he sent you a quick text.

Hey gorgeous, you are going to be amazing. You inspire me every day with your passion, and I can’t wait to see you on that stage. I love you always. A.

“Hi, I’m picking up for Aaron Hotchner, there should be two orders.”

“Yes, I see there is a single ticket and then a set of six additional tickets.” The clerk confirmed.

“That’s correct.” Aaron nodded.

Aaron took the tickets and distributed them between the members of his team. They all then made their way into the auditorium to take their seats.

--

Aaron’s text gave you an additional wave of confidence to get you through this performance. The whole company was buzzing in anticipation.

The performances passed by in a blur. One after another, running off stage to change and adjust your hair and makeup as needed. Every time you came onto the stage, Aaron would point you out to the team. They couldn’t help but smile and giggle at him…he was just so proud, and it was an infectious feeling.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for being here tonight. We have one final performance for you tonight. So please join me in welcoming our final two dancers this evening, performing a contemporary routine, Turn to Stone, choreographed by Travis Wall.

--

When you entered the stage, made up to look like a statue, Aaron was stunned to silence. He couldn’t believe you’d been able to keep this to yourself long enough to surprise him tonight.

The piano began, signaling Marko and you to move. The two of you were in sync, moving as one, beautifully gracing the stage. The crowd roared as you progressed through your routine, Marko lifting and catching you with ease during the lifts, as the music came to crescendo.

Aaron had tears in his eyes as he watched you move. The raw emotion you and Marko emitted with every point of your toe, twirl, lift, you two were telling a story and it was touching each person that sat in the audience before you.

As the song concluded, Marko shifted in close to you and you both froze to mimic statues. Silence filled the room briefly before the crowd erupted in applause…gifting you a standing ovation.

Marko and you took a quick bow before exiting the stage. Heading back to get some of this makeup off before greeting Aaron.

--

You ran towards Aaron, leaping into his arms, squealing in delight. You were on cloud nine, the routine had gone perfectly, and you couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.

“You were incredible. That duet, honey, I-I don’t even know what to say. You were, you just. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” Aaron was at a loss for words.

“I love you too! Thank you so much for being here to support me.  I didn’t want you to miss this.” You smiled.

Aaron passed you a bouquet of flowers and gestured towards the BAU team who all stood in awe, watching the exchange between you and their boss. Shock written on their faces, seemingly from his softness regarding you.

“Guys, this is my amazing girlfriend.”

Taglist: @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife @just-moondust

[winchesterwild78]

Daddy’s Girl pt 2

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: a little angst, lots of fluff

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This chapter starts out a little angsty and has some surprises along the way. 

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days I still felt Dean’s uneasiness from his dream. He of course tried to hide it, but knowing him for as long as I have I know when he’s hiding something. 

It was early in the morning when I woke up to an empty bed. Delilah was still sleeping. I stretched and grabbed my robe. 

I found Dean in the kitchen. He looked exhausted and was nursing a cup of coffee. His green eyes flicked up to mine and he smiled softly. 

“Hey baby. Want some coffee?” His voice was gruff and he sounded tired.

I nodded and grabbed a cup. As I walked past him I ran my hand over his shoulders. 

“Dean, are you okay? You looked exhausted.” “Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“Dean, have you been sleeping at all? I go to bed alone, and when I wake up you’re already gone. Honey, please talk to me.” I placed my hands on his. 

“I just can’t shake the dream from the other day. Everything I’ve ever loved, everyone I’ve loved ends up leaving or dying. I just wouldn’t survive if something happened to you or Delilah.” 

“Oh Dean, we aren’t going anywhere. We have Jack and Cas on our side. Plus you’ve trained me well enough to take care of myself and her. Baby, you have got to get some sleep. You’re no good to us if you’re exhausted. Plus you get a little cranky.” 

A smile formed on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at me. “You’re right. I’m going to go lay back down. Want to join me?” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

“You and I both know if I go in there with you then neither of us are getting any sleep. Now you go in there and get some sleep. I’ll keep your little princess entertained while you sleep.” I kissed his lips and ushered him to bed. 

About an hour later Delilah was awake and kept trying to sneak off to see Dean. “Delilah Rose, daddy is very tired. He needs sleep and we have to leave him alone.” 

She stuck out her lip and pouted, “But I want to play with daddy. I miss him.” I chuckled, “Baby he won’t be asleep forever. He will wake up and the two of you can play then.”

She nodded and sat on the floor in the library. I walked in the kitchen to grab her something to drink and when I walked back to the library she was gone. 

I sighed, I knew where she was. I caught her before she got the door open. I whispered, “Delilah! I told you to leave daddy alone.” “But I miss my daddy so much. I rolled my eyes, these two are insufferable. 

“Delilah, what do you say we go to the park then go get stuff to make daddy an apple pie?” Her big green eyes sparkled and she nodded. 

“Okay, go grab your shoes and coat.” She ran to her room and grabbed her shoes and coat, returning to me. 

I helped her put them on. And I grabbed my coat. I left Dean a note on the kitchen counter and we left. 

We went to the park and played for a little bit. I could tell Delilah was still a little sad. Her and Dean loved coming to the park. She played for a little while longer and I told her we needed to get to the store and then back home. 

I reached for my phone and realized I didn’t have it. I sighed. It’s okay. I left him a note. He will be fine. He’ll give me crap about forgetting my phone, but he’s used to it.

Delilah and I went to the store and got the things we needed for the pie and headed towards the bunker. 

When we got home Delilah bounded down the stairs. I found Dean having a panic attack in the library. When he saw us he jumped up and scooped up Delilah and grabbed me in his arms.

“Oh my god I was so worried about you two. You weren’t here when I got up, I couldn’t find you and you didn’t answer your phone. Why didn’t you answer your phone?!” 

I saw the panic and tears in his eyes and it broke my heart. “Dean, honey. I left a note and I forgot my phone. I’m so sorry baby.” I pulled Delilah out of his arms, “Baby, go play in your room. Okay? I promise, Daddy is okay. He was just scared.” 

Dean moved past me and went into the Dean cave and sat on the couch. He started sobbing. It broke my heart to see him. I placed my hand on his bicep, “Dean, baby. It’s okay, we’re okay. I took her to the park and then to the store.” “I’m sorry, Y/N. That dream just rocked me to my core. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you or her. You two are my life.” 

I touched his face and he leaned into my palm. “Dean, I know what we need to do to help you move past this.” I closed my eyes and prayed. A few minutes later Jack appeared. 

I stood and hugged him, “Hey Jack.” “Hello.” He smiled, then he saw Dean and his face fell.

“Dean is having a hard time right now. I figured he needed to hear from you. He had a dream that scared him the other day and he can’t shake it. He dreamed Delilah and I vanished and he couldn’t find us.”

“I see.” Jack said and looked over at Dean again. “How can I help?” “Can you reassure him we are going to be okay?” He smiled and walked over to Dean. “Y/N and Delilah are okay. They are not going anywhere. Well, Delilah will when she goes to college and gets married. She’s going to have two children and live a very long life. Y/N is going to have another baby in about a year and she is going to live a long life too. No demons, vampires or anything will hurt them. You have trained her well.” 

Dean’s eyes looked at Jack and then over at me. “Wait, what? I’m going to have another baby?” “Oh yes, a little boy. He will be like Dean.” I chuckled. “Well then I’m a very lucky girl.” 

I heard Dean let out a shaky breath. He hugged Jack and thanked him. Then he walked over to me and pulled me close, “I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mean to worry you or Delilah.” “Dean, it’s okay. We know how much you love us, and you being scared and worried just proves it. Now where the heck did the note go that I left you?” 

“Where did you leave it?” “On the counter in the kitchen.” The two of us walked in the kitchen, I carried the groceries I left in the war room. I didn’t see the note. Dean looked around and found it on the floor almost under the stove. “It must have blown off the counter.” I nodded, “I’m sorry. I promise not to forget my cell anymore. I guess this was just a perfect storm.” He nodded and pulled me in his arms.

“So, another baby, a boy?” I smiled, “I guess so. I wonder when he will be here. Jack said within the next year, so I guess we haven’t made him yet.” 

Dean laughed, “Guess we need to get on that.” I playfully rolled my eyes. He kissed my lips softly and behind me I heard the sound of little feet. Dean smirked against my lips and pulled away.

We turned and saw Delilah peeking around the doorway. Dean bent down and held out his arms, “Come here my little pumpkin pie. I’m okay. I promise.” Delilah bounded into the kitchen and threw herself into his arms. 

She had her favorite stuffy, a squirrel holding a baby squirrel and handed it to Dean. “To help you feel better daddy.” He took it with tears pricking his eyes. “Thank you baby girl, but your hugs always make me feel better.” 

Dean wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly. 

I walked up to them and hugged them both. “Okay you two, out of my kitchen. I have something to do here and you both will be in the way.” I chuckled. Dean and Delilah feigned hurt. “Ouch babe, I guess the two of us will leave you then.” They laughed as they left the room.

The next few days things settled down and Dean was sleeping better. He smiled more and couldn’t stop thinking or talking about us having another baby. “Maybe we should ask Jack when the baby is born.” Dean said early in the morning. I shook my head, “Dean, no. We will find out just like everyone else. Everyone who doesn’t have a direct line to Heaven.”

He sighed, “Oh come on. Aren’t you just the least bit curious?” I nodded, “Yes, but you’re driving me crazy with it. If you want to know, then you call Jack and ask him. I want it to be a surprise.” I kissed his lips and started to climb out of bed. Dean pulled me back down into his arms. 

His lips on my neck as he held me flush to his chest. My back rested against him and his arms snaked around my body.

“Dean, we have to get up. You promised Delilah and daddy daughter day and you know she’s going to be up soon. What if she walks in here?”

Dean smirked and jumped out of bed, locking the door. A mischievous grin on his face, “There, problem solved.”

Dean climbed back in the bed and pulled my chest to his. “Now, where were we?” He started kissing my lips and down my neck. His hands trailed up my body and I arched my back, moaning. 

About half an hour later Dean and I were tangled in the sheets, trying to steady our breathing. “Mmm, that was amazing.” I said laying against him with my head and hand on his chest. 

“Aren’t you glad I locked the door.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I am. Now let’s get up so you can take our baby for her daddy daughter day.” 

“Yeah, I have to show her what to expect from a man so she never settles for less.” I smirked, “Well, you’re doing an amazing job of that.” I kissed his lips and got out of bed, getting dressed I tossed Dean his clothes. 

“Take a shower, I’ll get her up and ready.” He nodded and smiled, “Hey, Y/N?” I turned to face him, “Yes, Dean?” “I love you, Y/N.” I smiled, “I love you too, Dean. So much.” 

An hour later Dean and Delilah were loading up in the Impala. He hooked her in her carseat and her legs swung back and forth as her giggles filled the backseat. 

I kissed her head and kissed Dean goodbye. “You two have fun. Try not to eat too much junk and spoil your supper.” I winked at him. “We will try. I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean. Be careful and I’ll see you two later.” 

The Impala roared to life and I watched as the two of them drove away. I let out a breath and walked back into the bunker. 

I went to the Dean cave and started to clean. I made my way into Delilah’s room and then mine and Dean’s. I decided to strip the beds and do some laundry. 

I cleaned the bunker and pulled out a book to read. My phone rang as I sat down and saw it was Dean. I chuckled.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sweetheart. We have a question for you.” 

“Okay, what is it?” 

“White or brown?”

I was confused. “What are you talking about? I need more context, Dean.” 

He chuckled, “Just answer the question, white or brown?”

“Um, white?” “Okay, thanks sweetheart. We love you. Remember that.” 

“Uhoh, what are you two up to?” 

I heard Dean and Delilah giggle, “Nothing. We will be home soon.” 

“Now I really am worried. I’ll see you two soon. Love you two.” 

“Love you too. Bye.”

Dean hung up and my curiosity piqued. What trouble could those two be up to now. I loved them going on daddy daughter dates, but sometimes they would get into mischief.

About thirty minutes later I heard the Impala pull into the garage. Dean and Delilah’s laughter filled the air. 

I sat my book down and waited for them. Dean was carrying Delilah and they walked into the library. 

“Hi Mommy. We’re back.” 

“Hi baby. I see that. Did you and daddy have fun?” 

Her green eyes twinkled, “The best. Daddy took me shopping and I got a new dress, then he took me to get ice cream and then we got you a surprise.” 

I smiled. “Well I can’t wait to see your dress. I bet it’s beautiful.” 

She smiled big, “Yes it is. It’s blue with stars on it. Daddy said I’m his angel so I needed a star dress.” 

I looked over at Dean and he was grinning. She definitely has him wrapped around her finger. 

“Mommy, are you ready for your surprise? We’re gonna give it to her now, right Daddy?” Dean nodded. 

“Wait here mommy. Daddy and I will be right back.” 

I smiled and my heart beat wildly. What were these two up to. Before Dean left the room to chase after her he looked at me and smiled, “Remember we love you and this is something we need.” 

“Oh lord. I can’t imagine what it is.” He chuckled. “I’ll be back.” He kissed me and went back towards the garage. 

I could hear Delilah’s giggles fill the air. I knew I was in trouble. 

“Mommy, close your eyes please.” 

“Okay baby. They are closed.” 

I could hear her and Dean walk back into the room. Then I felt a heavy box on my lap. 

“Okay open your eyes sweetheart.” 

I opened them to find a big brown box on my lap. “Open the box mommy.” 

Delilah squealed in delight. 

I carefully lifted the lid. A little apprehensive of what was in the box. I gasped. I looked up at Dean and then at Delilah. 

“Oh my goodness, are you serious?!” Dean grinned, “Yeah. We saw it and immediately thought about you.” 

“Oh my gosh Dean. This is perfect.”

In the box looking up at me was a beautiful white terrier mix puppy with big blue eyes. I had one as a child and she got hit by a car. I had mentioned to Dean years ago how I always wanted one especially for Delilah. 

I pulled the puppy out of the box and held her tight. “She’s beautiful, Dean and Delilah. Thank you.” 

She was perfect and so sweet. Giving the best kisses and falling asleep on my lap. I lazily rubbed her head as I talked to Dean about a name. 

“She needs a name. Something fitting.” Dean nodded. I looked at him and smirked, “I know. How about, baby?” 

Dean looked at me and shook his head, “Nope. There’s only room for one baby in the family and she’s in the garage.” Delilah looked at Dean, “No daddy, it’s me.” 

I laughed,”She’s got you there Dean.” He playfully rolled his eyes. “You’re my little pumpkin pie.” 

“But I’m also your baby.” He nodded and pulled her in his lap, “You’ll always be my baby girl.” 

She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, “And you’ll always be my daddy.” 

Dean’s smile grew. 

“Okay guys, seriously we have to give this little girl a name.” I said holding the puppy. 

Dean smirked, “What about, dog?” 

I raised an eyebrow, “Uh no. Good thing we have to agree on our children’s names. Delilah might have ended up being named “girl”.” I laughed. 

“Hey, I think I picked a beautiful name for our girl.” “Yes you did, Dean.”

“Well you said no to “baby” what about "Angel "?" 

Dean looked at me and shook his head. 

Delilah looked up from her coloring book, “Bubbles”. 

Dean chuckled, “What? You can’t name a dog “Bubbles”.” 

I looked at him and then at her. “It’s a great name, baby girl.” 

“But daddy doesn’t like it.” She hung her head. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “No baby, mommy is right. It’s a great name.” 

“You mean it daddy?” Her green eyes searching his. “Yes, I love it.” 

“Yay! Can we call her Bubbles?” 

I smiled and nodded. Dean just shook his head and sighed. 

Delilah left to go take her coloring book and crayons in her room and I stood up with Bubbles and hugged Dean. 

“See, I told you. She had you wrapped around your finger.” 

“Don’t I know it. Now I have a dog named Bubbles. What kind of badass Hunter has a dog named Bubbles?!” 

I laughed, “One who would do anything to make his little girl happy.” 

I kissed his lips softly and walked towards the kitchen. 

“We need to get some things for the dog. Like food, a bed, food and water bowl, and some toys.” I looked at Dean as I sat Bubbles down. 

“Already taken care of. It’s in the car. I’ll go grab it.” I nodded. 

As Dean made his way to the car he heard the tapping of paws behind him. Bubbles was following him. 

“Bubbles, Jeez I can’t believe that’s your name. You have to go back inside. Don’t follow me.” 

The dog turned her head like she was listening to him and sat down. 

“Good, now stay.” Bubbles stood up and wagged her tail and as Dean walked she followed. Dean stopped and looked. Bubbles wagged her tail. 

Dean shook his head. He walked to the car and got out the stuff he bought at the pet store. Bubbles followed behind. 

He returned to the kitchen with his arms full. I chuckled when I saw Bubbles following closely behind him. “Looks like you’ve got a shadow.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah. I guess I just attract all the ladies.” He laughed. 

I washed the bowls and filled them with food and water. Dean helped me figure out where to put her things, especially her food so she didn’t get in it. 

I turned around to show her where her food was and she was gone. 

I looked at Dean and we went looking for her. “Hey Delilah, have you seen Bubbles?” I asked as I approached her door. She shook her head no. 

I continued looking when I heard Dean.

“Bubbles! No!” I ran to our room and saw Dean standing with one of his favorite flannels in his hand. It looked ripped. I bit my lip to stifle the giggle. 

“She ate my shirt! My favorite shirt.” The giggle slipped out.

“Oh so this is funny?” I nodded, “Yeah a little. We just have to train her. She’s a baby, Dean.” “Well first thing tomorrow she’s going to training.” 

I laughed, “Dean, you have to sign her up for the classes.” 

“Well her and I will go and beg them to take her. I can’t have her eating all my clothes.” “Well, at least it wasn’t the leather in the car, or your favorite boots.” 

His head spun and he looked at me and gasped, “Bite your tongue.” He looked at Bubbles who was wagging her tail at him with her tongue out, “And you better not get any ideas.” She barked and wagged her tail at him.

“Aww look at that, another girl already wrapped around your finger.” He scoffed.

Over the next few weeks we all fell into a comfortable rhythm with Bubbles and her training was going good. She had stopped chewing on things other than her toys and she was always by Dean’s side. 

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my burgundy shirt? I can’t find it anywhere.” I heard Dean call from the bedroom. 

“The last I saw it was in the laundry pile when I washed clothes the other day. Check your closet.” 

“I did, it’s not in there.” I walked towards the laundry room, maybe it was hanging in there. I looked and couldn’t find it. 

“Sorry babe, I can’t find it. I don’t know where it is.” 

“This is weird. I’m missing some shirts, some socks and I can’t find my old leather jacket.” “That is weird. I’ll see if I can help you find them.” 

We searched everywhere. Checking the garage, the laundry room, the bathrooms, our room, then I walked into Delilah’s room. 

I noticed something sticking out from under her pillow. I lifted her pillow and found one of Dean’s missing t-shirts. I chuckled, “Hey Dean, can you come here please.” 

Dean walked to the door, “What’s up?” “Look.” I showed him his shirt and he smiled. He shrugged, “What can I say the girl loves me.” “Yes she does.”

We searched her room for the other things that were missing but couldn’t find them. 

“I was sure we would find the rest of the stuff in her room. Let’s check the Dean cave. Maybe you took your jacket off in there.” 

We went to the room and started searching, not finding anything. I looked over and noticed Bubbles’ bed was missing. “Dean, where is Bubbles’ bed?” “It was right there.” He pointed to the now empty spot.

“Okay, this is weird. You’re missing things and now her bed is gone.” 

I walked around to the side of the couch that was close to the wall. I looked down and chuckled. 

“Dean, come here.” He walked over and looked down. There between the couch and the wall was Bubbles. Curled in a ball, laying on her bed and a pile of Dean’s shirts, socks and his jacket.

He sighed, “So she’s not chewing on my stuff, she’s taking it now.” “It’s because it has your scent, Dean. You’re her person.” 

“Well can’t I be her person without her taking my stuff?” He chuckled. When he laughed Bubbles stretched and looked up and saw him. She wagged her tail and leaped up. 

He scooped her up and she started licking his face. I laughed “You know it’s only fair Bubbles took your shirts. Delilah and I both have your shirts and you’re our person, so she needs something too.” 

“At this rate I won’t have any clothes left.” I laughed. I bent down and started to gather his stuff out of her bed. She looked at me and whimpered. 

Dean looked at me and at Bubbles, “Leave that one.” He nodded towards an old green shirt he wears when he works on Baby. I smiled and nodded. I put it back in her bed and she snuggled to Dean. 

I placed a kiss on his lips and pet Bubbles. 

A few hours later Dean, Delilah, Bubbles and I were snuggled on the couch watching Frozen, again. I was sitting on Dean’s right side, Delilah was snuggled to this left and Bubbles was asleep in his lap. 

I looked over in the middle of the movie and saw the three of them fast asleep. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over them. I pulled one over me and snuggled back to Dean. Looking over at my family I thought how incredibly blessed I was to have Dean and Delilah. I couldn’t wait to add our baby boy to our family. He will fit in perfectly and will complete our little family. 

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[maxispixels]

HANDPICKED

PART FOUR.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1.8k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

CW: One slightly suggestive joke

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.

The pages of your sketchbook had taken a darker turn. Besides a few buttercups here and there, you had stopped drawing flowers. No, now you had a new subject, far more fascinating, but also far more complex.

You just couldn’t get his face right, no matter how much you tried, his features never felt like him. His nose was too small, then too wide, his skin never the right shade, and you couldn’t remember if he was wearing lipstick or not. 

You were so frustrated, you threw your sketchbook across your tiny flat. The loud thump almost startled you, filling you with instant regret. You hoped you didn’t break it as you rushed to get it back.

Somewhat, the crumpled paper made it look just a bit more like him, the scrappy charm of wrinkled pages suiting his style. You felt like the drawing was mocking you for even caring.

You hated how you found yourself tinkering with your little radio, trying to find the station he put on at the shop, never quite managing to reach it. The static hissed and crackled, occasionally interrupted by snippets of cheerful pop songs or somber news reports. None of it sounded right, none of it was him. 

You didn’t even want to listen to punk at the moment. You just wanted to understand him. Figure him out. His whole attitude. How he seemed to care about so many things people didn’t care about, how he didn’t care about what people did care about. 

That was totally what this whole thing was about. Definitely, mh hm. Just trying to understand.

After all, he had that air, like he knew something more. Like he figured out something you didn’t, and you wanted to know what that was. Maybe if you had listened to him talk instead of memorizing his face… All of that to not even be able to make a proper portrait. What a shame.

The weather kept getting colder as the days passed, and the heating in your home still wasn’t on. You were doing free extra hours at the shop just to enjoy the warmth. There was not a speck of dust left there—not even on the old radio. 

Even Rose scolded you about spending too much time there. You told her about the boy, how he brought the buttercups. You were a little sad they were going to wilt, so Rose taught you how to press them in your sketchbook. She didn’t miss the numerous drawings of a certain someone, and she looked at you disapprovingly.

“What?” You muttered.

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Youth.” 

You felt the underlying implications. “He just has an interesting face!” You defended.

“Whatever you say.”

You didn’t insist.

Days passed and the temperature only dropped further. It was still autumn, but it certainly felt like winter. The rain was constant and loud and cold. It seeped through your clothes and reached your bones, making your teeth clatter whenever you were outside. 

At least, the rides in the bus felt relaxing. You didn’t even mind having to snuggle with other people. They felt warm and soft, with big fuzzy jackets. 

You wouldn’t mind rubbing shoulders with a spike in the bus, but Spikey Thing only showed up when he felt like it.

You’d given him funny nicknames in your head. That’s what he got for playing mysterious. Loser. 

You looked at the door at every jiggle of the bell, hoping to catch a glimpse of his tall wicks, or studded belt, or leather jacket, or red combat boots. It was honestly shameful how disappointed you felt when anyone else entered the shop. 

That didn’t happen often, which left you alone with your thoughts too much. The heavy rain deterred most people from trying to buy flowers, and you had to put inside the pots in the storefront. The wind and rain would have broken the plants. 

You were dripping and you were cold, and tired, and frustrated. 

When the rain stopped for a moment, you went back outside to wipe the front window a little. You didn’t want the grim from the rain to linger on the glass, it was a pain to remove when it was all dry.

“S shapes work much bette’, y’know?”

You almost had a heart-attack. You didn’t hear him coming at all, and he startled you so bad, you almost dropped your cloth. You met his gaze through the reflection in the window. Play it cool, you told yourself, turning to face him properly. “Oh, and what would you know about window washing now?” 

“I was a window washer at some point.”

You snorted. “Wait, you’re actually serious?”

“Wot? Don’t believe me?” He challenged, grabbing the supplies right from your hand and doing the window in record time. And he didn’t need  your little stool to reach the top of the window. And it was really well done too, not a trace left.

“Okay, you win.” You sighed, impressed and defeated at the same time. You smiled as you imagined him just cleaning windows as a job. It made him a tiny bit more ordinary, normal.

“I always do.” He gave you back the supplies, entering the shop before you. “It's bloody freezin’.” Seemed like he also liked the heating in the shop. You followed him quickly. 

Only when you both were inside did you notice how grim he looked, with eyebags deeper than the last time—you’d know, you were lost in his eyes for an embarrassingly long amount of time, and darker spots across the edge of his jaw. The sight somewhat tugged at your heartstring, but you refrained from asking. 

He walked around like he owned the place, leaving behind mud stains. His arms swung lazily along each of his steps. You didn’t even scold him, a bit too happy with him showing up. 

“Missed me?” He asked as he sat down on your stool, behind the counter.

“Forgot you ever existed. Spent the most peaceful week of my life.” You blatantly lied.

“Pft, careful what you say, I got the till in front o’ me.” He teased, gesturing dramatically. “Fuck, you don’t even have a lock on that thing! That’s askin’ for it.” 

You chuckled. “Whenever the amount is over 500£, Rose takes it with her to keep the count.”

“Rose?”

“The owner. My boss.”

“No way. Rose sells roses.”

“Yes way. The shop’s called Rose’s roses for a reason. She made that joke before you.”

A comfortable silence fell after that. He stayed perched behind the counter, watching, while you shuffled the pots from the storefront, trying to find space for them in the crowded shop. You untied ribbons, swapping colors and fluffing petals, pretending you didn’t feel his gaze burning into your back.

“You’re overthinking the display.” His voice pulled you out of your concentration. “Just chuck a load of flowers in a bucket and call it modern art.”

“You’re not helping.” You sighed.

“Good — I’m helping you embrace chaos. It’s liberating.”

“I’m already liberated, thanks.”

“Liberated? You’re folding ribbon into little bows. That’s basically bondage.”

You glared at him. “Why do you even care? You’re not even buying anything.”

“No, but I’m stealin’ some fantastic entertainment.”

You pinched a smile off your lips before going back to fold said ribbon. You heard him fiddle with some stuff behind the counter, but didn't pay him any more attention for the moment. He didn’t bother you either as you took on the rest of your tasks. 

A customer entered, an older gentleman that already visited a couple of times. He often bought flowers for his wife—which you thought was quite adorable. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Anderson!” You greeted cheerfully. He smiled down at you, and you stood up. “How can I help you today?”

“Good afternoon. I am looking for a bouquet for my wife. It’s her birthday, and I wanted something special.”

“Of course. Do you have anything in mind? A theme, certain flowers, colors?”

“For once I was actually counting on your recommendations. I just want something original.”

You hummed, thinking. You usually suggest roses, everybody loved roses, but it was far from original. “Maybe some lilies with lavender…?”

“I got her lavender a couple of weeks ago…”

“Oh right.” You mumbled. Spikey thing from the back suddenly spoke up.  “If you want to give ‘er somethin’ special, maybe get ‘er somethin’ other than flowers.”

Anderson turned, startled, as if only now noticing the man slouched in the corner. His eyes darted to the ripped leather jacket, the spikes, the mud streaked boots, then back to you, wordlessly asking if he was supposed to be part of the staff. 

You turned as well and glared at him. If your eyes could shoot bullets, he’d no longer be living. It had an effect as he coughed and cleared his throat. “I mean, succulents are also an option, and uhh, their blue tint will marry, erm, beautifully with blue flowers over there. Yep. Succulents. Very, erm, modern, strikin’ even.”

You were about to scold him again, but his suggestion made you pause. That was actually a good idea. You turned to Anderson, whose eyes held a mix of confusion and disapproval at this stranger’s involvement. 

You grabbed some chrysanthemums, with a light blueish color, as well as some succulents, a couple of white flowers and other leaves to create a harmonious bouquet. You hated that he had a point. Succulents did work beautifully with chrysanthemums, damn him. He had no business being this obnoxious and occasionally clever.

Anderson looked at you incredulously. “You know what?… That works. I guess. Thank you?” He blinked, almost confused at how this random suggestion gave such a pretty arrangement. 

“You’re welcome.” The punk grinned, satisfied. 

You sighed, as you unceremoniously pushed the boy out of the way to the till to take care of Mr Anderson.

“Blimey, that much?” He exclaimed from behind you and and you shot a glare at him again. “Wildflowers are free and much more personal.” He added. 

Anderson just shook his head, now more amused than anything else. “Funny friend you got yourself.” You gave him a sheepish smile as you handed him his change.

“And I hope you have a marvellous day, good sir.” The deep voice echoed behind you and you swore he did a little bowing gesture. You rolled your eyes at your ‘funny friend’ dramatics. When Anderson finally left the shop, you turned to him.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What the hell was that?”

“Me being a genius. I should probably take your place, you suck at your job. I can wash the window better and I’m a better salesman too.”

You huffed and pushed him out of your way, trying to act more annoyed than you really were. It didn’t work too well as you couldn’t help a chuckle from escaping.

Part five.

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 24

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen and Gabby navigate their time apart as best they can, but both are struggling as the distance feels bigger this time after Glen's surprise visit.

Word Count: 1.9k (Shorter filler chapter here, next one will be longer!)

A/N: As always please let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs. I love seeing your thoughts on this story as it progresses!

GABBY’S P.OV.

Gabby adjusted the strap of her backpack as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, the familiar creak of the steps filling the quiet evening air. Another day, another lecture, another stack of notes to review. Her routine hadn’t changed much since Glen left—it was all as predictable as it had been before. But now, everything felt heavier, quieter, and somehow incomplete.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the emptiness of her apartment. The silence seemed to press against her ears as she flicked on the lights, illuminating the small but cozy space. Glen, and by extension Brisket’s absence hit her immediately, as it always did. The apartment felt far too still without the soft padding of his paws or the way both of them would sprawl out on the couch.

Gabby tossed her keys into the bowl by the door and set her bag down with a sigh. The weight of her day lingered, but it wasn’t the tests or lectures that drained her. It was the moments like this—the coming home to an empty apartment, the absence of Glen’s laugh filling the space, the quiet reminder that he was 2,100 miles away.

She moved to the couch and sank into the cushions, pulling one of Glen’s hoodies off the armrest. It still smelled faintly of him, a mix of his cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used. She pulled it over her head, letting the fabric swallow her as she curled her legs beneath her.

Gabby thought she’d gotten used to the long stretches of time without Glen during his filming schedules. She’d done it before, distracting herself with school, friends, and the occasional weekend shifts at the coffee shop around the corner where she had started working part time. 

But this time was different. This time, she’d had a taste of what it was like to have him close—those stolen thirty-six hours together, sharing takeout on the couch, and waking up to find him next to her. Sometimes she thinks it would have been easier if he hadn’t surprised her. But then she also couldn’t find it within herself to regret his visit.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping her out of her thoughts. Gabby reached for it, smiling faintly at the notification. A text from Glen.

Glen: Hey, babe. Just wrapped for the day. You still awake?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a warmth spreading through her chest. He always made time to check in, no matter how long or grueling his day had been.

Gabby: Always for you. How’s my favorite actor holding up?

The reply came almost instantly.

Glen: Tired. Miss you like crazy. How’s school? Brisket says hi.

She laughed softly, picturing Brisket trotting around the set like he owned the place.

Gabby: School’s fine. Same old, same old. Missing you like crazy too. Give Brisket a hug from me.

The conversation continued, filling the emptiness of her apartment with his presence, even if it was just through words on a screen. But as much as she loved these moments, they always left her wanting more. She wanted to hear his voice, to feel his arms around her, to have him here—not just in texts and late-night calls but in the little moments.

Gabby pulled her knees to her chest, staring at the phone long after their conversation ended. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t dwell on the distance, that she’d focus on her own life while Glen was away. But tonight, like so many others, she found herself wishing the weeks would pass faster, that somehow she could fast-forward to the moment when he’d walk through her door again.

She shook her head, forcing herself to stand. There was no use wallowing, not when there was a stack of notes waiting for her and a paper due by the end of the week.

GLEN’S P.OV.

Glen leaned back in the folding chair, exhaustion settling into his bones as the crew bustled around him. The lights above the set were dimmed now, signaling the end of another grueling day. His call time was at 6 a.m., and it was already nearing midnight, but he wasn’t in a rush to leave. The empty stillness of his rented apartment wasn’t exactly inviting.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up to reveal his favorite photo of Gabby as his lock screen—her sitting cross-legged on his couch, wearing one of his oversized shirts with a mug of coffee cradled in her hands, her laugh mid-sound. Just looking at it made something in his chest ache.

Glen unlocked his phone and scrolled through his camera roll, landing on a selfie they’d taken the day before he left. Gabby had kissed his cheek just as he’d snapped it, and his grin in the photo was as wide as hers. He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. She always managed to bring that out of him, even when she wasn’t trying.

His thumb hovered over the screen before he tapped into their text thread.

Glen: Wrapped for the day. Coffee here sucks. What’s your go-to order again?

He stared at the message for a moment, debating whether to send it. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Gabby’s order—he could probably recite it in his sleep. But these little conversations, no matter how mundane, made him feel closer to her. He pressed send and locked the phone, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Hey, Glen,” a crew member called, walking past with a clipboard. “We’re set to pick up tomorrow morning where we left off.” He nodded absently, offering a quick “Thanks.” 

Tomorrow morning felt too close already, but at least the work kept his mind occupied. Most days, he barely had time to eat between scenes, much less dwell on how much he missed Gabby. But it was in the quiet moments—like now, when the set was emptying out and the adrenaline of the day began to fade—that the longing crept in.

His phone buzzed in his hand, pulling his attention back.

Gabby: You know my order. But since you forgot: iced chai latte, add vanilla, with oat milk. ;)”

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair.

Glen: I didn’t forget. Just wanted to talk to you. Miss you, babe.

Gabby: Miss you, too. Get some rest, okay? You’ve been working so hard.

Rest. The word felt foreign lately. Between the pressure of nailing his scenes, the long hours on set, and the constant buzz of the production schedule, sleep had become an afterthought. And yet, every free moment he had, he spent thinking about Gabby—texting her, scrolling through pictures, wishing she was here to keep him grounded.

He pocketed his phone and stood, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders. A few crew members lingered nearby, chatting quietly as they packed up the last of the equipment. Glen gave them a small wave as he headed out, his mind already wandering back to her.

Five weeks. That’s how long they had to be apart. It sounded manageable when they discussed it, but now, each day felt like an uphill climb. He thought back to her voice on the phone last night, soft and warm, grounding him even through the static. She had a way of making everything feel easier, even when she wasn’t physically there.

Glen stepped into the cool Atlanta night and pulled his jacket tighter around him. As he walked to the car waiting to take him back to his apartment, he found himself pulling his phone out again, snapping a quick photo of the empty street in front of him.

Glen: Midnight walks in ATL. Wish you were here.

GABBY’S P.OV.

The third day without a call from Glen left Gabby feeling restless. She tried to keep herself busy—pouring over class readings, taking extra shifts at the coffee shop—but nothing distracted her from the gnawing sense that something was wrong. Glen’s texts had been short and sporadic, his usual humor and warmth absent. She missed the sound of his voice, the way he always managed to make her laugh no matter how stressful her day had been.

She glanced at the clock on her bedside table: 9:15 PM. It was later than usual, and her phone sat silent on the pillow beside her. Gabby sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest as she scrolled mindlessly through her messages with Glen, rereading the playful exchanges from last week right after he left.

It had only been ten days since he’d left. So why did it feel like it had been weeks or even months. 

Her phone buzzed suddenly, and she nearly dropped it in her haste to answer.

“Hey,” Glen’s voice came through, low and tired.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting up straighter. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

“Never,” he murmured, though his usual playfulness wasn’t there. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been...a rough couple of days.”

Gabby’s heart sank. “What’s going on?”

He sighed heavily, the sound tugging at her chest. “It’s just one of those days. Or weeks, I guess. We’re trying to get this big scene right, but it’s not coming together. The director’s frustrated, the cast is tense, and I keep feeling like I’m the problem. Like I’m not delivering.”

“You’re not the problem, Glen,” Gabby said firmly, wishing she could reach through the phone and pull him into a hug.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice thick with frustration. “I feel like I can’t get out of my own head. Every time I think I’ve nailed it, someone has a note, or the timing’s off, or the camera angle needs to change. It’s just...exhausting.”

Gabby’s chest tightened. She could hear how much this was weighing on him, and the fact that she couldn’t physically be there for him made her feel helpless. “I wish there was something I could do,” she said quietly.

“You’re doing it,” he replied, his voice softening just slightly. “Just talking to you helps.”

They talked for a few more minutes, but Glen’s exhaustion was evident. When they hung up, Gabby felt the emptiness of her apartment settle over her again. She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing.

As the minutes ticked by, an idea began to form. She grabbed her phone and opened her browser, typing in “flights to Atlanta.” A list of options filled the screen, and she scrolled through them, her heart beating faster at the possibility.

A weekend visit. She could pull it off. She had some savings set aside, and she could shuffle her schedule around to make it work. But doubt began to creep in as quickly as the excitement had.

What if his schedule was too packed for them to spend real time together? What if showing up unannounced only added to his stress? What if...

Gabby shook her head, trying to quiet the voice of uncertainty. She clicked on a flight option and checked the details. The timing worked perfectly—she could fly out Friday evening and return Sunday night.

Her thumb hovered over the “Book Now” button, but she hesitated, her thoughts spinning. She needed help to make this work, someone who could coordinate with Glen’s schedule without tipping him off.

And she knew exactly who to call. Someone who she knew was already trying to plan a visit to Glen on set.

Gabby scrolled to Glen's sister, Lauren’s number and hit dial.

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 22

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

Jake misses Christmas, Rooster realizes a few things

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

The first couple of weeks had been hard on everyone. Natasha and I had spent the first few days curled up in one bed, then she had slept over with Javy more often than not. Proving to the world that Tasha and I were right when we said that Bob was the best person in the world, he had let me sleep over on his couch whenever I felt like it, which had been quite often. We would watch old movies and order take out, ending the night the same way every time by looking at dog pictures. 

I was doing…okay, all things considered. Until Harvey sent a text asking if I was still coming to Iowa for Christmas. Sure, I knew Christmas was coming, it was hard to miss the decorations everywhere, but it hadn’t really sunk in that Jake wouldn’t be there until that moment. Somehow I had managed to get through the call without crying, confirming that I would take a flight up in a few days to spend Christmas with them. Seeing my nieces would help distract from the pain of Jake being away and I would be able to spoil them rotten with presents.

But today seemed to be the day of overwhelming phone calls because as soon as I was done with Harvey, my agent, Jason, called. 

“Heya, D. How’s the draft coming along?” I rolled my eyes, laying back in my bed. Jake’s pillow still smelled like him, mostly because Javy had stolen Jake’s cologne for me to spray on it, and I found myself sleeping on it more often than my own.

“You’ll get the pages when I’m ready to share them, nosy,” He laughed. I could imagine him sitting with his feet up on his desk, tie hanging loose around his neck. “How’s the scheduling for the book tour coming? Any way we could do it in the next six months?” Keep busy. That’s what Penny had said to do and being away from the apartment for a month or two, every second of my day being directed by Jason and Grace, would be the perfect way to keep my mind occupied. 

“You’re never this eager to do a book tour,” Jason laughed again. “I can schedule something out for March, four months should be enough time to book everything. Grace will be ecstatic, I’ll call her once we hang up. Ooh, I could conference her, one sec.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Whaddya want, Jason?” Grace’s thick Jersey accent came over the line and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Our little angel is on the call, she wants to do a book tour.” Grace gasped,

“Hell must have frozen over, good lord. Daisy, is this true?” 

“It’s true, dang, you two don’t have to act like I physically run away from you guys to avoid public engagements.” As soon as I said it, I knew what Jason was going to bring up.

“Do you remember Tucson?” 

“Nevermind, proceed with the roasting,” I groaned, “I deserve that.” Grace and Jason began to regale me with all of the times I had claimed to have a cold or a headache to get out of events. 

There was still no news on whether or not they would be able to talk with Jake and Rooster during the deployment, so Penny had told me to write letters but not send them. Letters from loved ones were notorious for getting lost, so it was more of just an exercise in letting out my emotions. So that’s what I spent my flight to Minnesota doing, writing out letters in the cursive scrawl Jake had once called pretty, detailing how much I missed him, what was going on at home, and other random thoughts that popped into my mind. 

My suitcase was filled with presents and enough warm clothes to survive the drastic weather shift. Christmas wasn’t the same without snow and I was happy to see that Minnesota had gotten the memo, the ground being covered in inches of the powdery whiteness. 

“Auntie Daisy!” Sarah screeched, waving excitedly beside her sister, Haley, who was also waving. Harvey looked good, his ginger mustache waxed into a handlebar, wearing matching Christmas sweaters with his wife Emma, whose blond hair was held up 

“Hey there, babies!” I sweep both of them into a tight hug, letting their giggles wash over me, the love making me feel warm from head to toe.

“It’s so good to see you, DeeDee,” Harvey pulled me into a hug, kissing my temple, his mustache tickling me. “It’s been way too long.” 

“God, did you get even taller?” Harvey had long surpassed my height but it was still fun to tease him, “Emma, you must be feeding him well.” I hugged my sister-in-law with a grin,

“You know me, Harvey’s been doing all the cooking. I’m glad you’re here though, his cooking’s got nothing on yours.” 

“I see what this is,” I laughed, feeling lighter than I had since Jake left. “Invite me here just so I’ll make lasagna for you.” God did it feel good to be around family. 

The days until Christmas were filled with festive activities with the girls, going sledding, building snowmen, making homemade hot chocolate and marshmallows, and decorating too many gingerbread cookies for my wrists to handle. On Christmas, after everyone had gone to bed, Harvey and I had sat down on the couch one night with hot toddies and gingerbread cookies, curled up under blankets.

“So, how’s everything been going with that pilot of yours?” Harvey sipped his mug of tea and bourbon. I smiled, feeling a tinge of sadness thinking about Jake. When did I go from being completely opposed to a relationship to being so stupidly in love that I couldn’t go a few days without missing one person? 

“He wants to get married,” Harvey’s expression took on that of a teenage girl who just got told Taylor Swift was coming to town.

“Oh my God! That’s so exciting, I mean, do you want to get married?” His excitement was understandable, I had loudly proclaimed my resistance to get married many times in the past, much to my brother’s disappointment. My face must have given the answer away because he gasped dramatically, hand over his heart. “Oh my God, you do.” 

“Kind of want to have kids too, one or two of them, watch them run around with the girls and have fun.” Harvey looked like he was about to pass out from happiness. Honestly, I had never thought that I would end up being this happy in my life, not since the day our parents died, and it was kind of surreal to even be voicing this aloud, especially to Harvey. “Kind of want to be Mrs. Daisy Seresin when he gets home from wherever the hell he is.” 

X

“Stop grinding your teeth, you’ll get a headache,” I reminded Hangman for the third time that day. Poor guy had been on edge since the moment we got on the ship and I was under strict instructions from Daisy to keep an eye on him. “One day at a time, man, we’ll get through this.” 

What we had assumed would be a standard deployment, hanging out on the ship, flying recon or just for practice, and getting to call home every night, had turned out to be a top-secret mission that needed them on standby just in case. This meant that there would be no phone calls home, no letters unless sent through command staff, and not knowing what was going on unless they got the go. The uncertainty of it all was killing me but nowhere near as bad as it was Jake. 

I understood. I mean, he wanted to get back to his girl. Back to Daisy, who, if I was being honest, was way out of his league. They were clearly in love, the kind of love that no one could deny or question, and again, if I was being honest, I couldn’t help but be a little jealous of. Though, both of us going insane being separated from our partners probably would’ve resulted in a stolen jet and joint court-marshalling for being AWOL and theft of government property. So maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t in love. 

“This is going to be the longest six months of my life,” Jake groaned, unclenching his jaw. I crossed my fingers that Daisy would somehow get letters to Jake through command, for my own sanity if nothing else.

Next Chapter

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[causeimcrayzeebee]

Spoilers for chapter 4 so far!

okay ik everyone and their mother is probably talking about this but monomoko seems to be becoming more and more sympathetic for the students and it kinda scares me for her future, considering what just happened w dr kan (KYS!!!!!). im not particularly sure as to why this is happening, maybe the black spots have to do with the memories or the feelings from the deceased students??? i feel like that has to have some significance. also she went and talked to people that were pretty significant to people who died or got killed, like sasaki and okazaki, so i find that intriguing. im still so confused as to how any of monomokos abilities work but hey ojima got a glimpse of the sky! yeah open sky screamed death flags ojima pls stay true to your word. also the yanagi analysis by monomoko was wild lmfao but i did really like seeing that, it was good to get a better idea of who yanagi really wants to protect,,, hes grown on me so much god i love him

TAMBA MISSING KAMIMURA I AM IN TEARS F UGH KKJSJAJEJE sweetie you DO deserve to be alive but this dialogue is so real i can totally see why tamba is spiraling out. her survivors guilt is really getting to her n how she was so careless before n still survived while someone like kamimura who took a bunch of precautions was killed. obviously tamba deserves to live; the question of who deserves to live is as hayashi said, it’s not something anyone has to prove, you just make the most of it. i really love hayashi and tambas interactions ESP in this chapter.

watari adding patches for the people who died in gonna CRY. i wonder what she would’ve said if she had the time to respond to monomoko, that definitely put Okazaki onto the forefront of her mind.

now onto some actual analysis

I think the why do you mourn them question is answered well with tambas sentiments before; they were so young and just died because of the situation they were forced into. Danganronpa is so dangerous too when the people in the killing game are teenagers, who are still learning to make rational decisions, so putting them in a kind of environment that puts pressure on them to make this kind of sacrifice to get out alive and save themselves, a very human instinct.

i had something in my drafts that I was gonna post desperately but might as well talk about it here cause it fits! i think a lot of why the pink cast is in such mourning goes to the kind of lives they live normally. many of them are more isolated, like kamimura or wada, or surrounded by people but not truly by people they can be themselves around, like hiroaki, chiba, and harada. especially considering them being the best in their field, they have lives where it’s hard to make connections with their peers and it’s a genuine one. that’s why hasegawa n kamimura become attached at the hip so quickly; kamimura was able to actually have a friend. this applies to pretty much everyone, and i think that is what is at the heart of the quick connections. they have the ability to be with their peers and don’t have the outside worlds social pressures on them. it’s a horrendous situation ofc, but if it weren’t for the killing game, they wouldn’t have talked to each other even if they did live near each other because of various reasons. i think the original danganronpa was trying to get to this point and it did in some cases, but in others it didn’t and that lead to a lack of mourning from the cast towards the people they lost except maybe one or two people.

tetro casually making me lose my mind yay hope all that made sense

[rhiannonsknife]

just read the new lottie one and wow. I think I genuinely started getting emotional around the end I love her so muchhh. You’re such an amazing writer and if it wouldn’t be too much to ask for could we get a visiting lottie in Switzerland bot related to that? God that was actually so amazing tho, you’re so insanely talented

thank you so so much anon!! i basically just copy pasted excerpts from the fic for the message so i hope you like it <3

the clinic is tucked away in the swiss mountains, its pristine white buildings framed by green hills and snow-capped peaks. It’s beautiful, serene even, but as soon as you step through the doors, the atmosphere shifts: everything inside feels too still, the walls too white, too sterile.

and then, lottie walks in.

at first, you almost don’t recognize her. her hair is shorter now, brushing just past her jawline, and she’s thinner than before. but there’s something different this time. she looks less hollow, less outside of her own body than she did when she stepped off that plane.

“hey,” she says, her voice steadier than you expected.

“hey,” you echo softly.

for a moment, neither of you moves. you hesitate, unsure if it’s okay to hug her, if that would be too much. but before you can second-guess yourself, lottie steps forward and wraps her arms around you.

“i missed you,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

“i missed you too,” you whisper back, holding her tighter.

the crash changed everything: it stole pieces of her, pieces of you, pieces of what the two of you had. you spent 19 months not knowing if she was alive or dead, clinging to hope when the rest of the world had let her go.

and then, against all odds, she came back.

but the lottie who came home wasn’t the same. she was quiet, guarded, haunted in ways she couldn’t explain. she wouldn’t speak at first, not even to you, and the confident girl who used to fill every silence was gone.

when her parents told you they were sending her away, it felt like losing lottie all over again. you didn’t fight them, even though it broke you. instead, you wrote her letters, pouring everything you had into them, refusing to let her forget how much she meant to you.

now, standing here with her in your arms, it feels like, for the first time in so long, some of the weight has finally lifted.

— c.ai