#thanks for asking!!! none of this frustration is @ you

[n0rmal-cat]

Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 7

[the girls are fighting!! also reader's going through it]

[also i try to write more next time aghhhhh]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Reader draped a blanket over Abby with a sign, with a satisfying stretch they bent backward, cracking their spine with relief “Who knew lifting a bunch of muscular men would be so hard?”.

They made their way back to the comfort of the couch, they spotted Baby where they once sat, looking up at them from his water. “You’re still here? Don’t you want to get some sleep?” they asked, now sitting next to him.

“I’m fine. Being tired isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me.” Baby shrugged as he watched the water swirl in the bottle.

“Thanks, by the way…for the yeah..” he didn’t even seem to want to say it, but the anxious tapping of plastic told them everything. “Don’t worry about it, um, do you want me to call you baby?”

He responded with a small laugh, “It really doesn’t matter to me, Baby is just a stupid name.” he paused and looked up at them, "but I don't mind being called 'baby' someone cute," he smirked to himself.

Reader blushed, "I'm going to choose to ignore that comment." They put a hand over their flustered face.

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the soft buzzing of the room. 

"So I gotta ask," reader turned, leaning back against the cushions.

“Hmm?” Baby hummed, taking a slow sip from his bottle, his eyes fixed intently on Reader.

"Why'd you agree to this? You don't seem like the type," they gestured with their hand.

Baby leaned back slightly as well. “Well, it’s either this or rot away right? What would you choose?”

“I was already doing that, wasn’t I? choose the same thing you did” Reader shot back.

He teased, “I guess you're not so far off from us then, huh? Who knows? Maybe when we go back, we’ll be in Gwi-ma’s good graces. The rest of the demons seem to like us.” Baby leaned in a bit closer to them, they could feel the cold radiating from his body.

"right 'we' " their hands were still warm, but for how long would it stay that way?

“Is it really that bad to be a demon? I mean, you’re talking to one, and you’re living with five,” Baby pressed

“It’s not just about being a demon it’s what it represents—agh, shit!” Reader suddenly doubled over, a sharp pain shooting through their head.

Concern flickered in Baby’s eyes, but he made no move to help. Instead, Reader repositioned themselves, rubbing their temples. “Damn, that’s been happening way too often. Maybe I need to sleep more…”

“Maybe…” he echoed, finishing the last drops from his water bottle with a sigh. He set it down on the table, the sound seeming far louder than it should in the quiet room. “You don’t have to stay with me, you know. You can sleep if you want.”

“Nah, I know you’re waiting for Jinu. I don’t want you to be alone here, right?” Reader smiled.

Just then, the elevator doors opened, and footsteps echoed down the corridor. “Well, speak of the devil-er, Jinu!” Reader exclaimed.

Jinu stepped in, glancing between Reader and Baby with a confused frown. “Why are you two here... and together?”

“The better question is where were you?” Baby replied, standing up, his expression shifting to one of annoyance. “You can’t just leave us without telling us where you’re going.”

“It’s not that serious,” Jinu said, trying to downplay the situation. “I’m just doing what Gwi-ma wants.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t be so worked up if you actually talked to us. This whole thing, you never run anything by us,” Baby shot back, his frustration clear.

Jinu stood there in silence, not looking at either of them.

"What do you think? None of us understands what it's like to be you. Don't lie to yourself Jinu. You're not the only one struggling here. we're all pieces of trash. The least we can do is acknowledge it," Baby said, shaking his head as he spoke.

"I had a chat with one of the hunters," Jinu glanced up.

"Wait, what?" reader stood to their feet.

"You had a-what is wrong with you!?" Baby pushed him back with a growl.

Jinu let himself fall to the floor, his back meeting the edge of a shelf with a thud. “That’s what happens when I tell the truth,” he spat, glaring up at them.

“Alright, hold on,” Reader stepped between the two, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re not going to have a fallout over a stupid argument.”

“Stupid? He went to meet a hunter and didn’t think to warn us? What if she followed you back?” 

"Even if she did, she thinks I'm human, she can't kill you here, now you," they turned to Jinu, “why didn’t you just tell them? That’s the dumb part! Baby was waiting for you the least you could’ve done is call!”

Jinu scoffed, rubbing his arm where Baby had pushed him. “Call? I don’t even have a phone! How would I call any of you?”

"ok, he has a point," reader looked back at baby, "but again, let's not fight."

The two continued to glare at each other as Jinu stood up. "I'm going to bed," Baby muttered, turning away.

Jinu watched him walk away. "Whatever..." he mumbled, pushing past reader and toward his own room.

Left alone, the reader stood still in the dim, empty room, the only sound was the doors clicking shut. "Damn it,” they whispered to themselves.

Suddenly, the stove top flickered to life, drawing their attention. A familiar pink and purple flame appeared in the darkness. "Gwi-ma?..." they asked, stepping cautiously toward the kitchen.

'Did you have fun today?' His voice was warm, almost genuine. “Fun?” they echoed.

'Playing pretend, of course, 'the innocent human' is that right?' he seemed to grow bigger again.

“Look, if you want to talk to Jinu, I can go—” the reader started, but he cut them off 'Did I ask for Jinu? I believe I was speaking to you, no?'

Reader's hand shook over the knob, tempted to turn him off, they knew it wouldn't work. "What is it you want to talk about then?" they managed to ask.

The fire morphed into a smile. I told you I came to ask if you had fun pretending to be 'human'...or maybe it's not pretend and just plain denial?'

Reader turned the knob, like they thought it did nothing. "It's just strategy, they can't go after them if they see me here, can they?" They glared

'Oh, of course,' his tone dripped with sarcasm. 'And you wouldn't want the three of them to get hurt either, would you?' Their grip on the knob tightened, knuckles white as they squeezed harder, until-crack!

The knob snapped clean in half, causing purple marks to scatter across their hand. “What?-” Their breath hitched as they dropped the broken piece in shock, cradling their hand as if it were in pain.

He let out a whistle, it pierced their ears 'oops, looks like you and the purple one finally have something in common now' as quickly as he came, he left, leaving reader panicked staring at their own hand like it was someone else's.

They looked towards the sink and turned it on, shoving the plug in, when it got to about halfway way they put their arm in and put their head down. They didn't know if it would do anything, but it did help them calm down a bit.

They took it out, looking at their hand once more marks finally gone. They let out a sigh of relief, they looked around the dark room again.

They made their way to the light switch, turning on both the kitchen and living room lights. They turned the TV on and put it on half volume, they sat down and started to watch whatever was on.

"Why do you have that on!?" Jinu came in, covering his ears, once his eyes landed on reader however, he quickly went to their side. "What's wrong? Why do you..." he tailed off to reader's wet hand.

"Nothing, just wanted to watch some TV is all" they stared blankly at the TV.

Jinu bounced his leg as he looked around the room. "I'll ah, ill apologize to baby when he wakes up, if you want, I can stay here till you fall asleep?"

"I'd like that," they leaned against his shoulder.

He smiled, "You know we're gonna finish this in the idol awards, you're gonna make us look great then aren't you? i don't know if you can tell, but the others really like what you put together.

"Hm," reader gives a hum in response, "you guys would be nothing without me, huh?"

He gave a laugh, "Get some rest, I'll be here."

the tag list-

@tumblblob @snowy-violet @yumi-does-stuff @d3sperate-enuf @kashasenpai @scara-simp69 @starwormy @luv1ayala @00hellohello00 @julia-loves-cupcakes @twilightknightt

[me-kume]

hello me-kume! since i saw that requests are allowed, can i ask for a pt. 2 of the what turns him on for the bllk boys? i really loved the first one—your writing’s always so fun and on point!! 🫶

this time, could i request some other characters like rin, sae, and michael? and one last special request—maybe a bunny iglesias if possible? if not, totally okay! feel free to go with any bllk characters you vibe with.

thank you for sharing your creativity with us—it’s always such a treat to read your stuff!! hope you’re taking care and getting plenty of rest too 💗 you’re doing amazing, truly! 💕

Of course! Thank you so much for such a lovely comment — it always makes me happy to see that someone enjoyed my headcanons and wants to see more with other characters! I hope I lived up to your expectations 🎀

——————————————————————————

What turns him on?

sae itoshi, rin itoshi, michael kaiser x fem!reader, 18+, minors dni, fluff.

Rin Itoshi - Exposed Neck

At first glance, Rin Itoshi might seem an impossibly complex soul. Cold, distant, as if the words “passion” and “fire” were foreign to his vocabulary. Yet, therein lies his allure. The secret thrill of knowing you alone hold the key to his vulnerability, that a single, innocent gesture can unravel this icy monolith, igniting a desire so fierce it severs Rin’s tether to reality.

All his anger, his sharp temper, the frustration from a grueling match—they vanish the moment Rin catches sight of you with your hair swept up. It doesn’t matter if it’s a messy bun you threw together in the early morning haze or an elegant updo crafted for a grand occasion—Rin loses himself entirely.

The delicate curve of a feminine neck is his Achilles’ heel, the tender spot to press if you want to glimpse the edges of his madness.

Sae Itoshi - «Accidental» touch

Sae Itoshi is not a man easily swayed by temptation, but you’re no ordinary adversary. Another woman might have resigned herself to the idea that his libido is simply subdued, his need for intimacy less urgent than most men his age. But you? You’re different. And so, uncovering Sae’s tiny, hidden weakness was no challenge at all.

A high-stakes dinner with potential investors, and Sae is the picture of composure. His tailored suit fits his toned frame flawlessly, not a single muscle twitching on his striking face. None of these pompous suits, prattling on about stocks and market trends, suspect that your delicate foot is slowly, deliberately teasing Sae’s growing arousal right under their noses. The wide oak table, draped in intricate lace, conceals your game perfectly. Only Sae shifts slightly in his seat, granting you more room to play. And only you know that the moment you’re both in the car, he’ll pin you face-first against the leather backseat and take you exactly as you deserve.

Michael Kaiser - Exquisite lingerie

Yes, Michael Kaiser is a true connoisseur of beauty, an aesthete through and through. He surrounds himself with beautiful things, and you? You’re the dazzling jewel in his vast collection.

Kaiser spares no expense, showering his beloved with endless gifts, knowing full well they’ll pay dividends by nightfall. His desires are as straightforward as they come: a stunning woman in exquisite lingerie, and Michael is hard as stone, ready to claim you on the nearest flat surface. He’ll tug the delicate lace of your panties down with his teeth, diving into your heat without a shred of hesitation.

To him, you’re a feast, a lavish banquet always set to perfection. An all-inclusive stay at a five-star resort—flawless, ever-ready to fulfill his every whim.

[the-artist-grimm]

Goodness, I came upon your work yesterday and got so fixated, god, I love it!! The characters!! The drama!! The characterization! Especially so with the twins, I can't help but gush

But now I'm kinda of curious, what are the bishops' thoughts on the twins and their relationship with the lamb and narinder?

Awww thank you so much!!!! I really appreciate it you're very sweet!

As for their view...ah now is that an interesting situation. They all KNEW the twins were sent to Narinder-Shamura obviously sent the boys and the others only learned about it once it was too late (which for the record had they known beforehand the three would've stopped Shamura since sending literal infants to hell was 'just older sibling what are you doing STOP')

But anyway they'd all thought they boys by Anthea's time had either A, died long ago from aging, or B had been sent to wherever the dead go after death. Like none of them ever considered Narinder would've kept them, especially when they thought his imprisonment was making him cold, violent, and angry. So imagine their surprise when they learn that not only were the boys still around, but that they were still children due to the gateway's stasis and had been basically adopted by their estranged brother who this whole time had just been a very loving father to the twins. (while also being super depressed)

Leshy

The first to arrive to the cult and also the only one there while the boys were still dead, meaning he saw-well, experienced both Narinder and Anthea without them. Anthea short-tempered and sorta bitter, Narinder just full-on depressed breaking down almost at any reminder of them. Once he learns of the situation he just feels really bad for the couple-considering how chaotic children can be I like to think Leshy has a soft-spot for them, and from the accounts of other cultists it's very clear to him how deeply the boys were loved and how much Narinder and Anthea cared about them. He's there when trying to cheer Narinder up and there the day the boys are finally resurrected, and the clear shift in the lamb and Narinder's behavior, Anthea softening and Narinder acting a little more alive again, is just a relief. Plus he likes seeing Narinder be a dad, it suits him.

Heket

She's kinda really uncomfortable mostly in the 'oh shoot they've been kids all this time/still alive' and 'wow I really mischaracterized my brother he's so SO gentle with those two this is awkward' way. Like Narinder with the boys really shows how wrong Shamura was about him before the betrayal, and how wrong the Bishops were to think Naridner's imprisonment would transform him into being violent and vengeful. It's more stabs of guilt. (and also guilt in knowing just who those boys should have been raised by instead) She also hates how it endears the lamb to her a little, like Anthea already gets under her skin with how un-godly they are, but seeing the lamb also as just a normal parent is really weird. Like THIS is the being who fell literal gods? The one gently scolding the boys for not finishing their veggies or being very affectionate/touchy via kissing their heads, holding their hands, or letting the boys hang off them? It's a weird contrast lol.

Kallamar

Anthea and Narinder are friends again for the most part by the time he arrives, and when the twins first run into the medical room he's in upon arriving at the cult to see Anthea who was helping him get briefed he honestly just thinks the twins are biologically the lamb and Narinder's at first. Like the boys run to Anthea shouting BABA!!!! and with Narinder standing in the door greeting them with this soft expression he just assumes more time passed than he realized and Narinder had settled down. Thus Kallamar LOUDLY asks Narinder 'WHEN THE HELL DID YOU GET MARRIED', then watches Anthea very uncomfortably leave and gets death glares from everyone in the room for the mistake. Afterwards though he's both endeared by the duo and frustrated because they're literally two people very clearly in love raising two kids together can they please just TALK already mans wants to plan his baby bro's wedding already.

Shamura

Guilt. Just guilt. Guilt for trapping the boys with Narinder, for kinda ruining any relationship they'd have with their 'real' mother, for putting two children in a traumatic situation and being so blind to it. They always thought Narinder would make a good father though, and they are somewhat comforted that the lamb has a family/seems happy, but they just wish it wasn't their mistakes that led to this.

[daydreamgoddess14]

could i please request bucky barnes with a college au best friends to lovers? congrats on 1000!

Thank you, love! This was so fun!

The Date

College AU Bucky Barnes x f!Reader - part 3 of the college trilogy!

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word Count: 558

Masterlist

“Ready for movie night?” He asked, poking your dorm room door open with the toe of his boot.

You were not ready for movie night. He stopped dead in the doorway, filling the space with his height and shoulders.

You were on your knees in front of the closet, digging through shoes to try and find the right foot to the left that sat next to you on the floor.

“No?” You called from the depths. “I did text you - aha!”

He watched you get to your feet. Sequined mini skirt, a thin silk cami. Hair curled, make-up perfect - red lipstick, and now, glittery heels.

His mouth went dry.

He’d seen you like this before, of course he had, he was your best friend.

But not on a Friday night. Friday night was movie night.

“You’re going out?”

“You know I am, Buck? I told you yesterday at the library?”

Ah. He may have tried to blank out that whole conversation.

You’d started talking about how the girls were convinced that John Walker was about to ask you out and he’d switched off.

His hand tightened on the popcorn he’d brought over, feeling it crush through the bag, and took a step into the room.

“Walker, huh? He gonna take up every movie night?”

You looked up from sliding your phone into your bag, a little frown crossing your face.

“Just this one so far,” you muttered. He swallowed down the guilt he felt for dulling your shine. “We can watch a movie tomorrow?”

He shrugged, “was gonna go to the beach with Sam and Steve tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“Was gonna see if you wanted to come with us, but I guess you’ll be hanging out with him?”

You looked at your feet, he saw your fingers tighten around your bag in a fist.

“No,” you muttered, still half under your breath. “No, Bucky - we’re not doing this now -”

He looked up sharply at the sudden anger in your voice.

“- you don’t get to do this -”

“Do what?”

You marched over in your heels - still having to tilt your head to look up at him.

“Decide now that this is a problem?”

You jabbed a finger into his chest, fury writ over your face.

“After all this time, you pick today?”

“It’s always mattered,” he snapped, the words coming before he could stop them. “You’ve always mattered, I just - I didn’t know how -”

You stared at him, your eyes a little wide. He could see the little smudge under your lower lashes where your mascara had pulled. The freckles still dotting your face hidden a little by your foundation.

With a frustrated sigh, you brushed past him and out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind you.

He sank down onto your bed, dejected.

Then, just as he dropped his head into his hands, the door burst open again.

You stormed back in, tossing your bag to the floor. He barely had time to look up and you were straddling his lap, fingers diving into his hair.

You kissed him - messy and fierce, like you were trying to make up for every missed moment all at once.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you pressed your forehead to his.

“Next Friday,” you panted, eyes locked on his lips. “Every Friday.”

His stunned grin split across his face. “Deal.”

[dkiove]

YOUR SEA OF LOVE, lee seokmin.

content: you, a photographer, is offered a job to help revive a under-the-radar city with the aid of 'tour guide', seokmin— the town's go-to guy. pairing: fisherman's son dokyeom x photographer reader genre: fluff, angst word count: 5325 words note: the longest one ive written yet so please take your time <3, didnt proofread sorry, because its so congested due to how lengthy and descriptive it is—i decided to bolden up the dialouges hehe

"will you stay?"

"who even are you?"

The bus ride to a small serene city was unlike any other.

You were a photographer, a struggling one that is. Unable to make ends meet—you accepted a short project for a tourism department in an unknown city. Thinking that this will be your big break, you didn't hesitate and started packing your bags.

Its for a photo exhibition tasked to capture the lives and scenery of a coastal locale—aiming to use your artistry in a form of publicity to promote their undiscovered beauty.

Already starving for a few days without any proper plan—who are you to resist an all expenses paid work trip. Right?

The staff you spoke to on the phone as you arrived gave you the directions to their office. A small house-like space nestled in the center of the city, in the middle of restaurant chains and a bakery—easy to spot yet also easy to miss.

You sat quietly in front of a desk, fiddling with your fingers as your backpack nestled on the tiled floor. There were a lot of people walking around, carrying stacks of paper, loud phone calls, and a bunch of desks close together with their owners doing their own things.

"I would like to welcome you to our city—I hope you give us your best work", he says behind a pile of papers, sweat evidently trickling down his forehead from the hot and stuffy atmosphere. "Thank you for giving me this job too, I won't let you down", you smile bowing your head down.

"I tried to find someone to give you a tour for your pictures but I believe none of us in the office is available for a full day tour", he anxiously shares, his fingers propping his glasses in place.

"Are you okay working with someone else?", you answer him with a reserved nod, a grimaced smile follows afterwards.

"There's a fisherman here who's son is like everyone's go-to guy", he leans in, "You don't have to worry about him misbehaving because he's a very reliable person—he agreed to show you around town in his motorcycle"

"I see. When can I get started?"

"Tomorrow. He'll be here by 8 AM so meet him here by then"

"will you stay?"

"of course. what is there left to do anyways?"

The sun was awfully a lot unbearable than yesterday.

You stood in front of the office for a long time now—and this so called 'reliable guy' isn't anywhere in sight. 8:30, you check your watch again; a frustrated grumble leaving your lips as your eyes trail each side of the road for an approaching motorcycle.

"My camera will melt at this point", you mumble.

Suddenly, the front door of the office opens. You turn around to see the staff you had talked to yesterday— "You're still here?", he exclaims, shutting the door behind him.

You nod, "Are you sure he's gonna come here? I think we already wasted a few minutes", you say. He checked his watch and hissed, "I see. But please wait for him, he might be in traffic right now"

"I think i'll just go ahead and start on my own, when he gets here please tell him that I won't be needing his help", you start to walk away, the crunch of gravel under your boots filling the protest of the staff.

Then, the sharp revving of a motorcycle cut through the still morning air.

You turned, startled.

A pale blue motorcycle skidded to a graceful stop beside you. The rider killed the engine, kicked the stand down, and pulled off his helmet with one hand—slow, casual, like he had all the time in the world.

Messy black hair. Sun-touched skin. That lazy kind of smile that made you irritated just for how easy it looked on him.

“You're leaving without me?” he asked, voice light but steady. His eyes, soft around the edges, scanned yours with a quiet amusement—as if he hadn’t just made you wait half an hour.

You blinked, caught between annoyance and disbelief.

He offered a hand—not an apology, not an excuse. “Name's Seokmin. Sorry I’m late— there was a boat issue earlier, and my mom made me eat.”

"Now get in since we already wasted a few minutes", he ushers you, throwing a red shiny helmet in your direction to which you almost failed to catch.

"Hold on tight because I'm gonna leave you if you fall down"

The whole day has been exhausting.

Althroughout that awkward and rough motorcycle ride accompanied by Seokmin's sudden cheering and you holding on for dear life—he haven't made the rest of the tour enjoyable.

He showed you around; from the temples, a quick chat with ladies from the market who generously treated him like a baby, the public library, around his favorite restaurants, and everywhere else—he made sure you captured around twenty images per destination.

Now you were catching the sunset on the beach. His motorcycle was parked farther from which he originally planned, the sea hushed around you, and the sun was on its way for a proper goodbye.

You nestled your camera on the sand, making sure it doesn't fall as you began taking pictures of the scenery—Seokmin standing behind you.

"You really know how to capture beautiful moments", he sighs, watching as your finger hits the shutter button once in a while. You rolled your eyes and focused—to which he playfully encouraged.

"You people just look at the camera and say 'wow this is good', but how often do you actually live the moment?", Seokmin grinned—not accusing—just plainfully curious. He carefully adjusted around you and faced in front, his frame caught in camera.

You stop for a moment. At this point, it didn't matter that he was 'ruining' your shot. What he said truly made you stop and reflect— "living the moment?", you thought.

When have you lived in the moment. Back in Seoul, there was no more option for living—everyday was meant for surviving. If you took the time and slowed down for a while, you will bump into numerous people. You will get walked on and trampled on—living in the moment isn't possible.

Seokmin notices your silence and turns around lightly, enough to see you huddled behind the camera. Instead of a photo, you hit record—a few soft seconds of Seokmin standing beneath the fading light.

"Can you move? You're blocking the shot.”, he stands smack in the middle of the frame, arms loose at his sides, a stupid grin already forming— “I don’t think I want to.”

“I’m serious. Move.”

“I am too,” he says, bending down casually, scooping up a handful of sand.

“Don’t you dare—”

Before you can move, he tosses it. Not hard, just enough to scatter toward your legs and the hem of your clothes.

“You—Seokmin!”, you exclaim in frustration yet Seokmin's laughing already—loud, carefree, utterly unapologetic.

You abandon the camera on its tripod—still recording—and start running toward him, your voice tangled in half-hearted threats and breathless laughter.

“I'll kill you!”

“You’ll have to catch me first!”, he sticks his tongue out and bolts, feet kicking up sand as he darts down the beach. You chase after him, clumsy and determined, hair flowing against the wind and your voice echoing across the open shore.

The camera stays behind, lens pointed at nothing in particular—just the sea, the falling sun, and two of you chasing around each other like children.

It captured everything: down to your the footsteps you both left behind, his laughter, him nearly tripping, your slippers flying in the air, and the sea.

And for a few seconds, you’re not a hungry photographer or a stranger in this town. You’re just someone laughing in the golden light, chasing a boy who throws sand and smiles like it's summer forever.

You lunge forward, fingertips grazing the back of his shirt when he suddenly turns.

Seokmin catches you mid-dart, his hands instinctively wrapping around your wrist just in time to steady you. Your momentum halts. The laughter dies on your lips—not all at once, but like it’s being slowly reeled back inside.

You’re suddenly still. His grip is gentle, but firm. Sand clings to your knees and sleeves. Your chest rises and falls too fast for this quiet, and yet—its there. That stillness. That strange second where the world forgets to move.

You look up. He’s already looking at you. Yet neither of you says anything.

His hands are still around your wrist. Your eyes meet in the soft orange light. And for a moment, it feels like the tide has paused—like time has pressed its thumb gently against both your backs.

Your breaths slow. His smile falters, not into discomfort, but something softer—more real.

And then, as if the moment realizes it’s been caught staring too long; you both shuffle and step back—laughing a little, awkwardly and looking around anywhere but at each other.

“You're fast for someone who hides behind a camera all day,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck before sitting down at the sand.

“And you’re annoying for someone who clearly wants to be in front of it,” you reply, trying to sound normal, even though your heartbeat is anything but—sitting down beside him.

"I had fun" he exhales, looking up ahead. "The sun is almost gone," you mutter, "Because of you I don't have any good shots", you exclaim, looking back at where you positioned your camera.

Seokmin turns to you with a light smile, "Why are you guys so obsessed with taking sunset pictures?", he says obnoxiously. "Because it's good, it looks good", you retort back.

"The internet has already seen a lot of sunset pictures—would it kill you guys if you actually witnessed it for once"

You roll your eyes at his response—not defeated, just accepting.

"It's beautiful", you say, your breath caught as the beauty indeed is amazing to see first hand.

"I know—it always has been"

"will you stay?"

"i will go once the sun stops shining for us"

Earlier was full of surprises—your night was full of reviewing photos and editing.

You grumble to yourself in the small room inside the office. Your eyes burn from staring at your laptop the whole day—catching up to you in your most vulnerable moments.

Confidently, your progress was utmost 75%. All there is left to do is review the rest of the album and conclude your task it by submitting entries for printing.

It was almost 8 PM in the office. Despite the promised accomodation, you were expecting a five-star rated room and a buffet—only to be met by makeshift bed in one of the rooms inside the office. But luckily for you, their wifi was fast and small space had airconditioning.

Your stomach rumbles with each tap on the keyboard. With new photos appearing, it adds to the hunger building up. You admit defeat and stand up from where you are seated. Although they have given you food for dinner, it wasn't enough to make you feel satisfied.

The night in this city only got more beautiful. There was a warm glow emitted from each story, filled with sizzling stove tops, glasses clanking together, cheers from drunken men, and laughter from children that played on the street.

You walk beyond realization—not knowing where to go.

"Should I just get noodles?", you ask yourself, halting in front of a vibrant store. Nodding to yourself and your budget, you head on inside to find what you are looking for.

There were many selections: lots of choices to choose from. Soup-based, dry noodles, even cold noodles—this store has it all.

Tempted to get a lot, you settled for everyone's spicy favorite: Shin-Ramyeon. You walk to the front to pay only to be met with an empty counter—you looked around for the owner.

The counter sits unmanned, a lone plastic calculator resting beside a buzzling radio. You glance around the small shop—aisles neatly stocked, a few tired posters on the walls—but not a single sign of life.

“Hello?”, you call out, half-expecting no answer.

A moment later, the curtain behind the counter rustles—and out steps a familiar someone—Seokmin.

His black shirt clings slightly from the heat in the backroom, sleeves rolled, a towel still draped over one shoulder. His hair is an evident mess, like he either napped or wrestled with a rice sack.

“Sorry for the wai—”, he cuts himself off when he sees you. That friendly shop owner gesture replaced with a lopsided grin when you appear— “Oh, you.”

You blink, “You work here?”. He scoffs and steps behind the counter, "This is my mom's store. Do you think fishing is the only lifestyle I have?", Seokmin laughs dramatically, hand caught in his stomach for a more comical approach.

"Shut up and let me pay", you mutter, setting the cup in front of him.

“Is that a way to talk to your tour guide? The one you have a crush on?", he says without missing a beat, an annoying smile etched in his lips like he's all-knowing.

You stare, “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” he grins, leaning one elbow onto the counter. “You found out where I am. You showed up during my shift. You bought the exact cup noodles I like. It’s a little obvious.”

You shake your head with a small, incredulous laugh, “You think I went here because of you? You didn't think it was dinner time and I am hungry?"

“Sure,” he says, dragging out the word. “Let’s go with that. Totally not a crush.”

Seokmin slides the cup toward you after calculating the price. His fingers brush against yours—a casual touch, but it lingers a half-second longer than necessary. You can feel it, the way he’s watching you, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll flinch or grin or tell him off.

“You’re annoying,” you say flatly.

“And yet...” he smiles, “you’re still standing here.”

Before you can offer a clever retort, the curtain rustles again—and a warm, firm voice calls out— “Seokmin-ah!”

A woman in her late 50s emerges from the back room, wiping her hands on a floral apron, hair tied in a neat bun. She halts when she sees you at the counter, eyes narrowing just a bit.

“Who’s this?”

“Customer,” Seokmin says, stepping slightly aside, suddenly very innocent.

“Customer?” she repeats, staring pointedly. “Why are you both standing there awkwardly", she adds. “Mom,” he groans under his breath.

But she’s not done. Her gaze flickers to your face, and then her expression shifts— “Wait, are you the photographer?”

You nod cautiously, “From the city?”

“Yes,” you reply. “For the tourism project.”

Her face lights up like someone flipped a switch, “I’ve heard all about you! The mayor won’t shut up. You should’ve said so right away!”. She waves her hand, already moving back behind the curtain.

“Come, join us for dinner. I’ll set an extra plate.”

You glance at Seokmin, who just winces. “This is happening,” he mutters, “Just... don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Is this how you treat all your customers?”

“No,” he says, pushing open the curtain for you, "Only the pretty ones"

"That dinner was...something", you say to Seokmin, patting your stomach, a small burp erupts forward.

The whole time was you eating homecooked meals for the first time in years, Seokmin's mom telling you stories about when he was a child, showing embarassing baby pictures to which you took photos off to tease him afterwards, and Seokmin wailing around afterwards.

Now, after helping them wash the dishes—his mom tasked him to walk you back to the offices or he'll never see the sun shine ever again.

"Your mom really knows how to cook", you say, already reminiscing the flavors you missed. Seokmin rolls his eyes, still not feeling solved from his life literally ending earlier.

"Promise me you won't spread those pictures", he pleads. You laugh at his request, "To whom will I share those even"

The night has dawned upon both of you. Seokmin shuffles his hands inside his pockets as you look up to see the moon and the stars shining brightly. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath as you walked slower.

Seokmin does the same, looking up to see what got you tantalized— "this would be the perfect time to whip out your camera and take pictures", he jokes.

You chuckle at his comment and open your eyes, "If only—I would stand here and do that definitely"

"But someone says to live in the moment so that I shall do", you smile, turning to him. Seokmin grew amazed by what you said, clearly signifying that his comment didn't pass by your ears earlier.

"Live in the moment", your voice trailed, "What does that mean to you Seokmin?"

He thinks about it for a bit, looking forward on the path— "For me, it's not caring about what happens around you. It's staying still and look at what's in front of you"

Your lips part at his words, amazed by the sincerity of his voice. Seokmin's head turns towards you and asks the same— "How about you?"

You only shrug in response, trying to find more things to say. “I don’t know yet,” you murmur, your voice quieter now. “I haven’t begun to start living in the moment yet.”

He hears it—the softness of your voice, the tired honesty in your words. And when he glances at you, Seokmin catches something in your expression that wasn’t there earlier: a flicker of something unspoken and that vulnerability you hadn’t meant to share.

But he doesn’t push. He continues to walk beside you, the silence between you wasn't awkward, but gentle—understanding.

When the office finally comes into view, tucked quietly under the sleepy glow of the streetlights, you both slow to a stop.

You turn to him with a small smile, “Thanks for walking me.”

“Would’ve been a scandal if I didn’t,” he says with a grin. “The mayor would’ve kicked me out of town.”

You let out a soft laugh and take a step toward the door, reaching for the handle—when— “Wait—”, his voice comes out a little too fast, almost like he surprised himself.

You turn back, brows raised.

“Do you..” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “do you have anything to do tomorrow?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Why?”

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly stalling, clearly overthinking— “There’s this night market down by the pier. Just something small. Food stalls, paper lights, probably a guy singing off-key with a guitar.”

You blink, smiling at the vision he paints, “Sounds charming.”

“It’s very locally chaotic,” he says with a sheepish grin. “I was thinking maybr if you’re free... you could come with me?”

He glances up, adding quickly— “Not a date or anything. Just a hang out. As your official part-time tour guide.”

You pause—just long enough to watch him squirm. Then, sweetly, “Okay.”

Seokmin's head tilts, “Okay?”, trying to sound it out to reality. “I’ll come,” you say, “For the guitar guy, mostly.”

He chuckles, bright and dorky, and his eyes crinkle. “Cool. Cool. I’ll, pick you up here? Seven?”

“Seven,” you nod.

There’s a beat of silence, both of you lingering. He gives you a small wave, backing away slowly, still smiling.

“Goodnight, ms photographer”

“Goodnight, mr wore a diaper till he was five.”, he chuckles in embarassment, that nickname obviously referenced from one of his childhood stories revealed earlier.

“Try not to miss me too much.”, he adds.

You scrunch your nose, “I make no promises.”

He stumbles slightly over the curb, laughs it off, and jogs the rest of the way down the road, waving once more before disappearing around the corner.

You wait a moment longer, your cheeks warm, smile refusing to leave. Then, finally, you turn and slip inside—heart fluttering a little louder than before.

Maybe tomorrow is the day you begin to live—and maybe he’ll be the reason why.

"will you stay?"

"just for one more night"

The town had dressed itself in lights.

From where you stood, waiting just outside the office, the street ahead looked nothing like the sleepy place you’d first arrived at a few days ago. Tonight, it was glowing—lanterns floated like fireflies overhead, strung between lamp posts and tree branches, swaying softly in the wind. The buildings, usually muted and gray, reflected hints of color in their windows, like even they were smiling.

You pressed your hands into your coat pockets to calm your nerves.

Then you saw him.

Seokmin jogged lightly toward you, his hoodie zipped halfway, his hair a soft mess from the breeze. He looked like he wasn’t even trying to be charming, but somehow was anyway. When he caught sight of you, his face broke into that familiar smile—wide, warm, just a little crooked.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone important,” he teases lightly.

You raise a brow, “I was. Guess you’ll do.” He laughs, mock-wounded, placing a hand to his chest, “Ouch.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved up involuntarily.

The both of you rolled into laughter, falling into step beside each other as you made your way toward the pier where the market had set up. The breeze carried scents of roasted chestnuts, fried batter, and something sugary and citrusy that made your stomach grumble. The sounds of chatter, laughter, and off-key music grew louder with every step.

The market bloomed open like a painting—warm and golden, pulsing with life. Lanterns in soft reds and yellows swayed over narrow walking paths. Stalls lined either side, with vendors selling everything from grilled squid to sweet potato donuts to handmade rings and wooden toys.

“Where do we begin?” you asked, eyes wide. “Easy,” Seokmin said. “Food, then games, then more food, then regret.”

You snorted, “You’re really selling the experience.”

“You’ll thank me when your third skewer changes your life.”—and it kind of did.

You started with seasoned chicken, the spicy kind that made your lips tingle, and Seokmin couldn’t stop laughing at your reaction until he ate one and immediately downed his entire drink. Then came the sweet potato—warm and coated with sugar, which you both bit into too fast and burned your tongues, only to laugh even harder. You shared desserts, argued over which stall’s fishcakes were better, and took turns holding the plush prizes you won at dart booths.

“Look at this guy,” you said, holding up a stuffed pufferfish. “He looks like you when you get hit with spice.”

“He looks like me after hearing that insult.”, he retorts, mouth full with more food.

At a bracelet stall, you lingered too long on the beaded ones, and Seokmin noticed. He waited until you walked ahead, then slipped back and bought the one you kept reaching for but never picked up.

“Here,” he said later, holding it out casually like it was nothing.

You blinked at it, “What’s this?”

“Don't miss your chance and not get what you want—you have to live in the moment remember?"

You tried to roll your eyes, but your heart was already fluttering.

Everything felt brighter with him, even the lights.

Eventually, the two of you made your way toward the pier. You wandered off the path a little, finding a quieter dock tucked behind one of the larger boats. The water stretched wide and glimmering ahead, and the buzz of the market faded into a gentle hum behind you.

You sat stood side by side, the waves imitating the way you both swayed your bodies.

For a while, you just watched the sea, silent.

“Did you have fun?” Seokmin asked eventually, his voice softer now. You nodded slowly, a smile on your lips as you turn to him— “More than I expected,” you said honestly.

“That’s a relief,” he murmured. “I was worried I peaked too early with the pufferfish.”

You chuckled under your breath, then went quiet again. The lanterns above swayed, casting warm shifting halos across the dock.

“I like it here,” you said, staring at the sea. "I feel like I have a place to breath again". He didn’t say anything at first, just plain listening to what you have to share, “It gave me that, too.”

You looked over at him. He wasn’t looking at you; his head was directed at the sky.

And then—a whistle cracked in the air.

The first firework burst open.

A golden flare scattered above, showering light down like sparks from a dream. Then another—blue, then pink, then red. One by one, they bloomed and echoed, painting the sky in color and sound.

You tilted your head back, mesmerized— "Woah", you mutter.

But once the fireworks caught everyone's attention, Seokmin who had his eyes up earlier, looked down—he looked at you.

He watched the way your eyes lit up with each explosion, how you whispered “wow” under your breath without realizing it, how you leaned forward slightly like trying to get closer to it all. There was something so alive in your expression.

And maybe it was then that he reached for you.

Slowly, nervously, his fingers brushed against yours. And when you didn’t pull away, he let them settle—tenderly—between yours. His hand was warm; familiar.

You turned to him, startled at first, yet eager to see what his reaction was.

Only to see that he wasn’t watching the fireworks—he was watching you.

Your breath caught. You blinked once, twice—and then your eyes welled with tears. Not from sadness, not from fleeting joy, just from feeling deeply.

Like something cracked open inside your chest, “Thank you,” you whispered, voice trembling, heart thudding. “Thanks to you, I think... I’ll start living in the moment now.”

Your words hung there, suspended in the air between bursts of color and echoing cracks in the sky. He didn’t answer right away, he knew he didn’t need to.

Seokmin just leaned in, slowly, carefully, and wrapped his arms around you.

And you folded into him—completely. Your face pressed to his shoulder, your arms wrapping around his back. It wasn’t a grand kiss. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic.

It was something better—It was safe and it was home.

Above you, the final firework exploded in a thunder of gold, sending falling sparks across the night. But down here—under lanterns and stars, on the dock of a small town—you found something even brighter.

Seokmin.

"will you stay?"

"i ran out of time"

It was the event proper for the city's anniversary.

The fireworks yesterday night was merely an opening—a warm gesture and welcome for today.

Seokmin was still caught in his feelings; the hug, the 'thank you', and the moments that lead up to that ending still lingered in his mind. It was to a point where his mom had nagged him from smiling all of a sudden, daydreaming, and chuckling while eating.

She said he looked stupid, like he had hung the stars. But Seokmin didn't care—he was in love and he isn't apologetic about it.

The first day of the event needed his help. All morning, he had helped people move their stuff to the venue, carrying boxes, fishing with his dad, cleaning, and all sorts of things—but he was more occupied in trying to find you.

In fresh clothes and a bouquet of handpicked flowers, he sniffed and fixed them up properly, walking through the heaps of stalls he had helped set up earlier.

In Seokmin's mind, he was gonna see you and have another wonderful day with you.

But to his demise, he could not catch glimpse of you early on. Despite his best to search, ask around if you came by, he would get 'no' as an answer. Thinking that you were probably busy and chooses to visit the event later—Seokmin finds his way walking to the office on behalf of you.

The sun was shining not so brightly. It had a warm cast that soothed his skin rather than hurt it.

The distance from the venue to the office wasn't as far. He chose to walk instead of using his trusted motorcycle. There was also a reason why he didn't opt to use his motorcycle yesternight—Seokmin wanted to be with you longer than intended.

The office was bustling just from the outside. Seokmin could see from outside that people were busy, probably from the demand and stress of planning this event.

Patiently, he waited outside—hoping someone would notice him and tend to his needs.

And someone did, the person that introduced him and you in the first place. "Seokmin! What brings you here?", he asks, facing his phone to his shoulder to shield the ongoing call he had. "Oh, I was wondering if the photographer is here", Seokmin asks, a small smile on his face.

The staff grew conflicted, a recalling look on his face as he looks back inside—"You guys didn't meet each other?", he asked, confused. Seokmin shakes his head in response. "She didn't tell you then?"

"Tell me...what?"

"She's going back to Seoul today."

"will you stay?"

"no"

Seokmin wasn’t anywhere close to being a runner.

Maybe he had chased a few chickens for his aunt a few times, rushed around to catch crabs, or maybe got called to the Mayor’s office fast—but he definitely wasn’t a runner.

Yet somehow, upon hearing those words—his feet had never moved this fast.

"She's going back to Seoul today"

He barely heard the rest. The words rang loud in his ears, louder than the pounding of his steps against the gravel road, louder than the breath he couldn’t catch, louder than the doubt rising in his chest.

You were leaving.

His heart thrashed like a tide in his ribcage. The wind whipped against his hoodie as he turned corners, leapt across puddles, nearly knocked over someone’s laundry basket. It was almost funny—how he never once ran like this when you were still here.

And yet now—now that you were on your way out of this town that had somehow, impossibly, made room for you—he could barely breathe for the thought of missing you.

The bus stop came into view.

And there you were.

Sitting alone under the curved roof of the waiting shed, camera bag at your side, knees drawn up just slightly. You hadn’t noticed him yet. Your eyes were fixed on the road, unfocused.

Seokmin stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, lungs burning.

For a second, he just looked at you.

You looked the same from the day he had met you—and yet not at all. The same jacket. The same soft hair caught in the wind. But something about this was so different.

“You didn’t tell me.”

You turned sharply at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide. Lips parted. You stood up a little too quickly.

“Seokmin—”, your voice faltered. “Why are you here?”, you asked, genuinely confused about his sudden appearance.

“Why wouldn't I be?” he asked, walking closer, eyes searching yours. "After what happened yesterday night, you should expect me to be everywhere but away from you."

You looked away, guilt passing over your features— "I didn’t want this to feel heavier that it should be". Seokmin takes another step forward, “Then you should’ve at least let me carry some of that weight,” he said gently.

A long silence stretched between you. The wind rustled the bus schedule posted on the shelter wall. A motorcycle passed behind you and faded into the distance.

“My job’s done,” you said quietly. "I came here for work, and now it’s over"

“I know that it's over,” he said. His voice was low, careful. “Does that mean that what we are is over too?”. You looked up at him—eyes wet, but not falling. Thinking of a response, you only sigh in defeat.

Seokmin took a breath. A long one.

“I’m not gonna beg you to stay,” he said, a bit of a sad smile on his lips. "I think this town gave you what you needed—". Seokmin paused, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

“I just wanted to see you. One more time. To say thank you. For all the little moments. For laughing with me. For letting me be in your frame.”

You laughed, breath catching on something in your throat. “Thank you too” you whispered— “For reminding me to live in the moment.”

That cracked something in him. He stepped forward. And without asking, without waiting, he pulled you into him.

Your head tucked into his shoulder, arms wrapping around his torso like you had done that a thousand times before. Like it was natural and like it was home.

The minutes slowed.

You could hear everything—the call of a bird, the wave of wind through nearby fields, the faint hum of a bus coming from far down the road.

“Will you keep in touch?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer right away.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes shimmered with uncertainty—but also something warm.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I'm not good at those things”

“But,” you muttered, reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly, “if I ever find myself lost again—I’ll come back to where I last remembered myself.”

Seokmin's heart ached at that but he acknowledged reality as it is.

The bus turned the corner in the distance. Its headlights cut through the curve in the road. You reached for your bag. Slung it over your shoulder. Exhaled.

“Goodbye, Seokmin.”, you waved.

“Not goodbye,” he said, smiling sadly— “Just give me hope that i'll see you again next time.”

As the bus pulled up and you stepped inside, he stood there in the settling dusk, watching through the window as you found your seat and looked out at him.

You pressed your fingers softly to the glass—then to your heart. And he lifted his hand back, smiling to himself as he waved.

Once the bus closed and began to drive away, Seokmin stood there alone, hand still raised, eyes not leaving the road until the last trace of you had vanished.

"Let me see you one more time"

"will you stay?"

"no. but I think you gave me something to come back to"

That sign of hope and connection Seokmin had wished from you never came to his aid.

After you left, he was waiting for a phone call or a small message. Maybe a sudden appearance or a note you had left for him. But it was all nothing.

Slowly, he had began moving forward himself. Seokmin had lived life much better this time in behalf of you. It made him think of how much of a hypocrite he'll be if he hadn't taken the advice he had given you—living in the moment.

So he did. Seokmin continued to live in the moment. Much more slower yet meaningful this time.

It was just another slow afternoon.

The kind where the clouds hung low, and the sea barely bothered to move. Seokmin was crouched on the floor near the dining table, finishing up late lunch.

The fan spun lazily overhead. The radio crackled with some old trot song. The same regulars wandered in and out of the store, bell chimes following each soft step.

He didn’t expect anything different.

“Seokmin-ah!” his mom called from the front of the store. “A letter came for you!”

He was still mid-bite, “From who?”

“Don’t know,” she replied. “But it says 'Seoul' in the stamp.”

That got his attention.

Seokmin wiped his hands on the hem of his shirt and made his way to the counter. And there it was—propped neatly beside the old radio like it had always belonged there.

Square. Sun-faded. His name written in gentle, curved handwriting he hadn't seen in months but instantly recognized—your handwriting.

His fingers hovered for a second before picking it up—carefully, like it might crumble. The front was a photo.

It wasn’t a landscape or a golden-hour skyline. No sunset. No sea.

Instead, it was him—mid-laugh, turning his head, a puff of sand still floating in the air. His mouth open like he’d just said something dumb, his hoodie sleeves flailing a bit as he bolted.

Behind him—blurry and in motion—you. Sprinting after him, arm stretched forward, a grin carved wide on your face.

It was chaotic. A little shaky. Off-center.

Seokmin was immediately sent back to that day.

The day he threw sand at you and you chased him across the beach, laughing like someone who had finally started breathing again. It was the first moment you both forgot time—forgot why you came, forgot what came after.

He flipped the card over, heart caught in his throat. The back was simple—only two lines written in pen, slightly smudged.

"The sea is still here—for the both of us."

"Seokmin, the tide will guide me back to you soon"

[emmerrr]

A hug to keep you warm

[fandom: aftg] [characters: neil and andrew]

The last game before winter break had ended on a win for the Foxes, but thanks to a mechanical issue with the bus delaying their departure by two hours and counting, morale was understandably low.

“What time is it?” Allison asked, frustration lacing her tone.

“It’s 2:45am,” Kevin said dryly. “Ten minutes later than the last time you asked. And fifteen minutes later than the time before that.”

“Don’t sass me, I’m tired,” she snapped. And she certainly wasn’t the only one; Aaron had his duffel on the seat beside him and was half slumped on it, out for the count. Nicky, in turn, was leaning on Aaron, who was clearly only allowing this because he was already asleep.

The rest of the Foxes were still awake, but most of them were grumpy. If the problem wasn’t fixed soon, they’d have to find accommodation elsewhere, an option none of them were keen on. They always felt better back on home-ground.

Neil was trying to keep his mind occupied by playing card games with Dan and Matt, but he lifted his head and scanned for Andrew. He was still sitting with Renee, talking quietly amongst themselves, but as if he sensed Neil’s gaze, he looked up. He cocked his head at Neil, a question in it, but Neil just shook his head. Nothing’s wrong. Just checking in.

“—Neil?”

His attention snapped back; Dan was talking to him. “Sorry. What?”

“You got any 3s?”

He scanned his cards. “Go fish.”

But before she could, Wymack and Abby returned. Sleeping Foxes were nudged awake — Aaron unceremoniously shoved Nicky off of him — and everyone’s faces immediately turned towards their coach.

“Alright, kids, good news and bad news,” Wymack started in his usual gruff way. “Good news is the bus is running.”

A small cheer went up throughout, but Wymack quickly held his hands up to shut them up. “Bad news is the heat is out and would take longer to fix. So either we stop somewhere for the night and get it fixed in the morning, or we go home now and I’ll get it fixed when we get back.”

It was December, so it was cold, but it wasn’t yet freezing. Consensus was that everybody just wanted to get the hell out of there, and Neil definitely agreed. He’d always rather sleep in his bed back at Fox Tower. And an uncomfortable nap on the familiar bus was always preferable to an uneasy sleep in a strange place.

Together, the Foxes all gathered their things and filed out into the parking lot. Andrew gravitated to Neil’s side as they walked, and they were the last two onto the bus, bypassing everyone to sit in their usual spots at the back. Neil would usually sit in the row right in front of Andrew’s at the very back, but tonight he chose to sit beside Andrew instead.

At Andrew’s look, he shrugged. “What? You want me to move?”

Andrew didn’t quite sigh, but it was a near thing. “You can do whatever you want.”

Neil smiled; Andrew was good at saying what he didn’t want, but sometimes still talked around the things he did want. This was as good as an invitation.

Abby got them moving, and they all settled in for the four hour drive back home. There was quiet chatter initially, but it soon died down as everyone gave into the allure of a nap.

The number of bodies on the bus certainly kept it from feeling as cold as it might have done, but there was a distinctive chill in the air, even for Neil, who tended to run pretty warm.

Neil glanced to the side to see if Andrew was asleep yet. He was not; he’d pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down to cover his hands, and was huddled lower in his seat. Every so often, he gave off a little shiver.

Andrew didn’t do so well in the cold. Andrew didn’t do so well in the heat, for that matter, but the cold was certainly the more pressing issue at the moment.

Neil peered out down the aisle of the bus. Other than Abby — at least Neil hoped she was awake, as she was driving — everyone was asleep, the only sounds the occasional rustling as someone shifted positions. There was no one looking at them, no one to incur Andrew’s ire, no one who cared at all if Neil and Andrew offered each other small comforts in the back of the bus.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered, and he opened his arm when Andrew looked his way.

As ever, it was a toss-up as to whether or not Andrew would allow this, or if he’d instead decide to remain stubbornly uncomfortable the whole way there.

But he moved without hesitation, tucking himself into Neil’s side. Neil lowered his arm so it was around Andrew’s shoulders, and then closed the other around him so that he had Andrew nicely encircled.

He drowsily rubbed Andrew’s arm, generating some gentle warmth, and soon enough, Andrew relaxed further, resting his head against Neil’s chest.

It didn’t take long for him to stop shivering entirely, and Neil felt Andrew yawn against him.

“You can sleep,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Andrew mumbled something incoherently back, clearly exhausted. Neil thought that he might not be able to sleep like this and half expected him to move away, but to his surprise, Andrew instead huddled closer, his fist clutching in Neil’s hoodie.

His breathing evened out, and ten minutes later, Neil knew he had a sleeping Andrew on his hands.

He leaned his head against Andrew’s, as gently as he could. Tired as he was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, too conscious of not wanting to jostle Andrew.

He felt a little glow in his chest that he was granted this trust, this privilege of keeping Andrew warm, and he didn’t mind staying awake. Rest could come later.

There were far worse ways to spend a bus journey; Neil would take this any day of the week.

Andrew slept soundly the whole way home.

[firingstars]

hold on (even if it’s fake)

new avengers!bucky x new avengers!reader

summary: public interaction with the new avengers has never been worse, and all of valentina's previous PR stunts have effectively failed, and only caused the team to become walking memes rather than heroes. in a last ditch effort to save face, valentina proposes a new plan: make the leader of the thunderbolts publicly date a member of the original avengers team.

warnings: 18+, mdni, soft smut, piv, fingering, no use of y/n, slight fake dating trope, slight enemies to lovers, descriptions of violence (reader lowk got some anger issues to work through), reader has avoidance issues, post-thunderbolts movie, semi thunderbolts movie spoilers, tension, angst, comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: i want to preface that most of this was written when i was sleepy on melatonin >:3

masterlist

“Engagement has been going down,” Mel said, gesturing towards the screen behind her. 

The team members dragged their gaze up towards the front of the room, weary expressions all over their faces. They didn’t want to hear this speech again– they knew engagement was down in the depths of hell. Shit, they wouldn’t be surprised if the world just decided to forget about them completely. 

As if to rub salt into the wound, an animated graph showed a steady arrow that ran from the top left, all the way down to the bottom right of the screen. 

“The only clicks that we are getting are memes,” Mel continued, tapping the screen of her tablet, presenting the next slide. “Most of them are about Walker and his limited time as Captain America, or talking about how Bucky is hot and his failing career in Congress, or discussing how Alexei is seen in public trying to convince locals to become fans–”

“I am a walking PR team, not a meme!” Alexei boomed, a scandalized look all over his face.

Mel gave him a smile, one that looked like she was trying to comfort a toddler more than anything. 

“What is the point of these meetings?” Yelena demanded, her hand hitting the mahogany desk in frustration. “We meet every single Friday just for you to show us pie charts and graphs on how the world hates us. We already know that– are we not just trying to do the mission?”

“I was waiting for someone to ask. Thank you, Yelena,” Valentina said, giving a practiced, disgusting smile from the head of the table. 

A wave of nausea filled the room. Lord. Last time she looked like this, the entire team had been thrown into a photoshoot that was supposed to up their familiarity with the people. All it did was create reaction photos for whenever articles of the team came out. 

“While the mission is important, the mission is nearly impossible without the people backing you up. You can’t just blow things up, and walk away if the people hate you, after all. So, we need to come at the people with a different approach,” Valentina said, standing from her seat. “What do the people of America love?”

“Disgusting, overly processed food?” Ava muttered, raising her eyebrows. 

“Yes, but you guys were not very particular with collaborating with McDonald’s last time I brought this up–”

“You put us on the face of a cereal box,” John grunted. “Isn’t that enough?”

“What America loves is a love story,” Valentia said, ignoring John. The confusion that settled in the room was palpable. The team looked at each other, frowns on their faces. Valentina continued, “And we are going to give them a love story. These people want familiarity. Something to make you guys relatable. Enjoyable to the public–”

“I’m sorry, Val, but none of us are in relationships,” Yelena cut her off. “The only one close to it is actually divorced.”

“Thanks,” John scoffed. Yelena shot him a pitiful look. 

“The relationship doesn’t have to be real. You think all those celebrities in Hollywood are actually dating?” Valentina scoffed, crossing her arms as she moved to the front of the room. Mel moved to the side, allowing her boss to take the stage. “This is a PR stunt. Something to boost your credibility. Make you guys shine– make you guys lovable.”

“I’m not getting into a fake relationship with either of these men,” Ava immediately said, frowning. Then, she looked across the table. “No offense, but none of you are exactly relationship material."

“None taken,” Bucky muttered, sighing deeply. “Valentina, what are you even going on about?”

“I’m so glad that you spoke up, Congressman,” Valentina grinned. “Because you will be the face of this project.”

“Valentina–”

“And the rest of you can relax,” she cut Bucky off, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Bucky, you may not have worked with her per se, but she does have a wonderful track record with the public, and you have worked with her friends. She’s well loved in terms of media presence, though she’s been one of my shadow agents for the last handful of years since the whole… Accords situation.”

Bucky’s eyebrows creased in suspicion. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“She is an ex-Avenger,” Valentina said, her smile growing wider. “Which means, her involvement with the New Avengers will increase our engagement with the public tenfold. And by having a romantic relationship with you, the leader of the New Avengers– well. Let’s just say, it’ll be amazing for the press.”

“Hang on– are you talking about Noir?” John asked, sitting up straight. “One of the original Avengers? Who fought in the 2012 Battle of New York? I thought she was dead.”

Valentina shrugged noncommittally as she looked at her cuticles. “Well, she doesn’t go by Noir anymore. She just goes by her first name, but she’s not dead. She just didn’t want to get in the middle of the fight that tore up the Avengers in the first place– the Accords. She removed herself from the situation entirely and never came back.”

“So… she’s been working for you,” Yelena said slowly. “And if she’s never come back, why the hell would she come back to be an Avenger again?”

“That’s a little above your paygrade now isn’t it?” Valentina smiled, a little crinkle to her nose. She turned to Bucky with a smile. “She’ll arrive here at the Watchtower within the next few days. I’ll arrange for a meeting between the two of you, and we’ll go over the expectations of what your relationship together is to be.”

“I didn’t agree to this–”

“Do you have a choice to agree?” Valentina dared him, gesturing back to the screen, where memes were still on display– still making fun of them.

Bucky paused, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he stared at the various different photos. Then, he looked around the conference table. None of his teammates could look him in the eye. They weren’t objecting to this either.

Fuck.

The Avengers tower is different. You know it is, and it makes your stomach churn when you see it from the outside. You hate it, even though you had made the decision with the original group to move to the Avengers compound years ago. You shouldn’t be this upset to see it bought, renovated, changed for something else.

Yet, it still bothers you.

A receptionist at the lobby recognizes you immediately, and gives you your badge to use to key in. You want to burn it into ashes immediately. Tony didn’t make you guys use badges. He had you guys use voice recognition, eye scanners, and fingerprints. You wonder if this is just a work in progress, and they’re still trying to get the tower functional. You keep your thoughts to yourself as you move to the elevator.

It’s clean, in a way that smells like a hotel. Hiding secrets, not memories. Stripped down to nothing. Valentina’s wiped away everything that was once within these walls, all the laughter.

Then again, you walked away from those same people because you couldn’t stand to watch them fight. When things got rough– when Steve and Tony asked you to choose a side, you took one look at them, and packed your bags. 

Sam called you a coward. Said that you were running.

You didn’t correct him. 

The elevator doors opened with a ding! and you’re brought to the top floor of the tower. The sound of water hits your ears. Someone is doing the dishes. You can see a few heads on the couch to the side, and they’re turning to face you. All within a few seconds, everyone’s coming to see you. Well, almost everyone. There’s a man missing from the group. 

There’s a mixture of awe and intimidation in the air. Tension and fear. You don’t know what Valentina has or hasn’t said about you, but you know what is said online about you. They continue to stand there, watching you, scanning you– sizing you up. 

You take a few steps out from the elevator, hauling your duffle bag and backpack with you. 

“Morning,” you said, giving them a curt nod before turning off to the side.

“Where are you going?” one of the men spoke up– Bob– you think. His shoulders are collapsing in on himself, and his hands are dripping with water onto the floor beside his bare feet. The Sentry that Valentina told you about– the one that damn near broke apart the entire world. 

“Conference room,” you replied, continuing to walk away.

If Valentina hasn’t completely torn down the place, then you know where you’re going. From the looks of it, it seems that she just changed the drywall and changed the wallpaper.

It looks fucking tacky. You should bother her to hire a new interior designer, honestly. Pepper would have never allowed these items to be in the tower. The mix of metals and the resin epoxy covered floors… You can imagine her, shuddering, while Tony grins beside her and hands her his card, telling her to go ahead and change whatever she wants about the place.

You push the glass door of the conference room open. It used to be a sliding door, one that would automatically open. J.A.R.V.I.S. used to greet you when you walked through this door, asked you if you wanted to turn on some light jazz while you waited for the rest of the team to barrel into the meeting room since you were always too early. 

Except, J.A.R.V.I.S. was known as Vision now, and Vision was dead. Just like almost all of the people that you once knew, and none of them are going to be walking through these doors again. No– it’s just you. You, alone, are in this tower that used to be the place you called home. It has never felt more unfamiliar in your entire life. 

“You made it. How was the flight?” Valentina smiled warmly at you, standing from her seat at the head of the table. Beside her, you see Mel standing there, ever the good assistant, with her tablet in hand ready to show you some new presentation.“Come in, come in. Take a seat.”

You want to skin her. Slowly dissect her while she’s conscious so she can feel every single nerve being ripped apart, and then feed it to her dying corpse. Then you want to bring her towards the reconstructive clinic in Seoul, have them build her back to life just enough so that she’s still in pain, so you can do it all over again. 

But you can’t. 

“It was alright,” you responded, and dropped your luggage by the door before pulling out one of the rolling chairs to sit.

Valentina waits for you to say more. An awkward silence settled over the room. A few moments later, the CIA director cleared her throat, and returned to her own seat, and looked between you and the other member in the room.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of each other, yes?” she asked, voice dripping with honey.

Your gaze shifts, and you’re sucked into a storm of blue grey eyes. He’s scanning you, looking you up and down with caution. It’s not the same way that the others were doing out in the common area. He’s not sizing you up, trying to see what you’re made of. No– he knows you. It goes beyond just hearing stories of each other through Steve or Sam.

You’ve fought with this man before. Maybe not him right now, but a different version of him– one that he did not choose to be has crossed your path. 

You were a highly trained S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. One of the best in your line of work, and became an Avenger through some rhyme or reason that you still didn’t understand yourself. You’ve fought aliens, been on stakeouts, had snipers pointed at your head from miles away, and yet– the man sitting across from the table from you is the only person that has made you feel true, unbridled terror. 

Every once in a while, you can still feel the ache in your thigh from where his blade fully sheathed into your muscle on that bridge in DC, and dragged downwards. You had only been lucky to have maneuvered so he didn’t hit your femoral artery, or you wouldn’t be alive at this moment. 

You don’t tell Valentina any of that. You’re more than certain that the soldier in front of you has never even breathed out words of his past to anyone either. 

“I’m well aware of Congressman Barnes and his achievements both in the military and in our government,” you replied, your eyes never straying away from him and his watchful gaze.

Bucky’s eyebrows twitched at your words. You watched as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek as the gears in his head turned over, processing if there were any double meanings behind what you had just said– if there was some kind of backhanded retort or compliment. 

“Wonderful,” Valentina hummed, and clapped her hands together. “As you both know, the reason for this meeting is to discuss our plan. Operation: Romance the Public, if you will. Do you like that? Like the name I came up with?” 

There’s a sort of gloating tone in her voice that makes you release a deep breath of air. Neither you or Bucky said a single word, but you do turn to her. You’re not amused. You don’t bother hiding it, and you revel in the way that her smile falters at the expression on your face.

Mel cleared her throat from behind Valentina, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the screen at the front of the room come to life. 

“Great. More pie charts?” you asked.

“The pie charts are wonderful,” Valentina quickly said, almost defensive. Clearly, it’s her idea to constantly add those graphs to every single meeting. 

“I’m not too sure how pie charts are supposed to tell me how Barnes and I are to be fake dating each other,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “Valentina, you’re talking to someone that was trained in espionage. I don’t need to be told how to pretend to be in love with someone.”

“Well, pardon me. I forgot that sleeping around was part of your list of expertise,” she said, smiling at you. 

You blinked at her, lips parting. Then, you smiled back at her. Sickly sweet and pretty. You leaned over the table, arms crossing over the wood as you lowered your voice. There was no need to yell. Wasting your breath on her? Unnecessary.

“I don’t have to be here,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. You saw the brief flash of panic go through her features. “Do you think I want to be an Avenger again, Fontaine? I can watch you and the rest of this team fucking dive into the pits of hell for all I care, and become the laughing stocks of operative work and the media. Hell– Sam Wilson, the nation’s new Captain America, can take up the mantle, ruin you guys, and I will watch with a smile. I think that you’re forgetting that I am doing you a favor.”

You watched as she wet her lips, and her nostrils flared at you. She swallowed thickly, clenching her jaw as she tried to sit up straighter, tried to give off the appearance that she was in control here.

“You forgot the de. It’s de Fontaine,” she whispered to you, giving you a small wink as she nodded. 

“I don’t give a shit,” you whispered back, shaking your head. 

The smile on her face slowly faded away as you maintained eye contact. You tilted your head at her, waiting for another witty response.

It never came.

You sat up, palms hitting the wooden table as you stood. You gave a nod to Mel, who looked absolutely petrified where she stood. Briefly, you felt bad for the girl. Valentina was definitely going to take out her anger on Mel, who couldn’t do anything against her. 

“Well, I’m gonna go,” you declared, and looked across the table towards the man who had been oh so silent the entire meeting. “You tell me when I’m needed– an actual mission or if we’re supposed to be seen out in public together. I’m not sitting in one of these stupid fucking conference rooms to listen to her bullshit again.”

You didn’t wait for Bucky’s confirmation. You pushed out from your chair, and reached for your bags, going back out into the hallway. If Valentina listened to at least one of your conditions when you told her that you would do this stupid fucking PR stunt, then your old room better be vacant. If not, you don’t care who’s shit is in there. 

You’re throwing it all out.

You wondered if Tony was in heaven, looking down at you, laughing his ass off. You were certain of it, actually. Him and Natasha both must be sharing a beer together, watching the show unfold in front of them. Honestly, you couldn’t blame them. The sight would be comical to you, too, if you weren’t the one actively in it.

This was the first charity gala that you attended, but one of many that Valentina threw. The reason for this? You and along with the New Avengers were attempting to raise funds to help send back to cover the costs of the damages that the fucking idiots on the team caused in the latest mission in Brazil.

You wished you could say that you weren’t part of that mission, but your name was unfortunately slapped onto it like a brand on your skin. 

You thought you knew what awful teamwork looked like. After all, you had been there to see the beginning stages of the original Avengers. You watched as Steve and Tony fought chest to chest in some homo-erotic tension that made you want to rip both of their heads off at the time. You watched the Hulk throw Thor into a compression tank, and then have to be chased down by Natasha. 

Hell, even after you guys finally started to get along with each other, you guys were still on each others’ asses. Debriefs consisted of arguments demanding to know who was compromised, who strayed a toe away from the original plan, and who needed to pull their weight. At the end of the day, you called it accountability. 

Yeah... You wanted to go back. 

You had never been part of a more disorganized team in your life. The original Avengers were dysfunctional? No. You guys at least knew each other’s skillset. You could only watch in pure exhaustion as Ava tried phasing through buildings with John following her, demanding for her to take him with her, only to be ignored. If it weren’t for that serum in his veins, you were certain that he should’ve gotten at least three concussions with how many times Ava told him that she would bring him through a building, only to change her mind right before. 

At the same time, Yelena was shouting for her father to stop the theatrics with the locals before giving up completely. You didn’t have too much to say about Yelena– watching her fight made your chest hurt actually. She fought like Natasha did. You wondered briefly if it was because she was trained in the same place, or if it was because of their bond together. Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick her apart too much.

Bucky stopped playing leader the second shit went to the fan. One second, he was giving orders, making sure everyone was aware of their positions, and next thing you knew it? You watched as he ripped out his earpiece and shoved it into his pocket because he couldn’t stand the sound of Yelena and John arguing over the frequencies. 

Meanwhile, Bob was in the jet, keeping the AC running so you guys would be hit with some cool air after being stuck out in the sweltering heat. You still didn’t understand why you even took him to the missions when he didn’t do anything. Yelena swore that it was for field experience. That it was good for him to watch. He couldn’t watch jack shit from the forest that you dropped him off at though. 

Worst of all, the damage done to the country could have been avoided. It was all so easily avoidable. None of the explosions or damage needed to happen. Yes, the original Avengers blew shit up– did you guys ever mean to? Never. You watched Wanda cry in her room for days after messing up after a mission, yet Alexei and John were chuckling about how big the cloud of smoke was in the air. 

Now, it was time for your first official public appearance with Bucky. Dressed to the absolute tens– him in some both of you in matching Versace suits and gowns. God damn it, and he couldn’t even pretend to look you in the eyes. He just needed to stare at the space between your forehead, and that would be good enough for the cameras. 

“Did you not receive any media training as a Congressman?” you asked through a smile, sticking yourself closer to Bucky as the cameras flashed at the two of you. 

“I received media training,” he grunted, low, and under his breath as his hand twitched around your waist, but still barely present. His fingers were ghosting, as if he was afraid to touch you. “Media training didn’t include fake dating.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you smoothly took his hand in yours, pulling it tighter to your body. You felt him stiffen beside you, and you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill everyone actually, but that wasn’t an option here. 

Soon, you got the thumbs up from Mel, letting you know that there were more than enough photos taken of you and Bucky. You held in your breath of relief for just a few more minutes as you slipped your hand into his, effectively leading Bucky into the gala and away from the press. 

You continued to hold hands, only the sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor being the noise between the two of you. It makes you cringe.

When you’re far enough away, ducking into the sanctuary of a hallway, you both release each other. Bucky creates some distance between the two of you. The action shouldn’t bother you, but it does. You’re still wired up from the failure of a mission that you had to endure– the mission that the others deemed was good enough because they destroyed less than they thought they would.

“I need you to pretend that you’re in love with me, or this shit is not gonna work, Barnes,” you said, closing your eyes as you attempt to regain part of your sanity. You lean back towards a wall, resting your head against it. 

“It's a little difficult when I’m being suffocated in my suit,” he muttered, messing with his cufflinks. 

“You look fine,” you sighed. “At least you’re fully covered. I’m one wrong move from showing off my chest to the entirety of New York. But seriously– get your shit together otherwise the media will think I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

“This wasn’t my plan, if you forgot. Not my decision to do this for publicity,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be doing any of this shit for the media.”

“Obviously. If it was, then you wouldn’t be such a mess out there! Again, I can’t do my job if you’re going to be a statue. I thought you were supposed to be a charmer. Some smooth guy that knew how to flirt. Can you channel that guy out for me?”

“Who the hell said all that?”

“Steve did.”

Bucky blinked at you, surprised for a second. “Steve said that? You– how close were you to Steve?”

“Close enough,” you waved off, trying to avoid the conversation.

Something about the way he’s looking at you is letting you know that he won’t let this go any time soon. A deep sigh escapes your throat as you look at him. 

“Steve talked about you a lot,” you huffed, running your hand through your hair. “Said you were a ladies’ man. So I thought this whole operation was going to be easy, but I guess Steve had no idea what he was talking about because this is the worst undercover mission that I’ve ever had the displeasure of doing.”

The surprise on his face melts away into utter irritation. A frown finds its way onto his face, and his head cocks just slightly. 

“Why are you even here?”

“If you forgot, the gala is because your team blew up half of the fuckin’ city, babe,” you replied, giving him a bitter smile.

“That’s not what I’m– babe?” he cut himself off, an incredulous look on his face as he stared at you in disbelief. 

“You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” you asked sarcastically, tilting your head at him.

There’s five seconds of silence. You wondered if there’s something that short circuited in his brain because he’s frozen in place, staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Finally, he moves. He dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath as he attempted to calm himself down.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his jaw clenched tight. 

You met his gaze. It’s accusatory. Suspicious. The same way that he looked at you in the conference room, and the same way that he looked at you in the jet when you and the rest of the team were on your way to Brazil. He’d been quietly trying to figure you out this entire time. 

“Why I’m here is none of your concern,” you dismissed, tearing your eyes away from his. “All you need to know is that I’m trying to help you, so it would be really great if you cooperated with me.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” he said, a deep sigh escaping his chest. “You said it yourself– you don’t want to be an Avenger again. You’ve been in hiding for years, since right before the previous Avengers broke up. Why are you back?”

You stared off into the side, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You turned to him, scanning his face again. 

Truthfully, you can’t blame him. You may hate this team, hate that fucking tower, but this is his. There’s a history behind him, and the rest of those fools that he calls his teammates, and a dynamic that you can’t squeeze yourself into even if Valentina labels you as a New Avenger. 

Moreover, you have no idea what was said about you in private. You don’t know what Steve or Sam told Bucky about you– if they even talked about you at all once you left. You don’t know what happened to any of your old friends aside from the media coverage, aside from the mission reports that you were able to dig up by hacking into a series of encrypted, locked files before you got caught by being too sloppy, too emotional one day. It was how Valentina located you, and when she realized who you were, she didn’t arrest you. Asked you to join her shadow operatives. 

You had nothing better to do, so you agreed. 

But now?

A slow, shaky breath exits your chest. 

“You do your job, Barnes. I’ll do mine,” you told him, meeting his eyes once more. “Let’s try not to have anymore lovers quarrels, babe.”

You pushed off the wall, and brushed past him, going towards the heart of the gala where the others are already mingling with investors, sponsors– anyone to give some money. 

You put on your best smile, and you join the fray. 

Whether you like it or not, this is your team now, too. Your name is attached, and you were part of a mission that disrupted hundreds, if not thousands of lives. So, you chat. You talk with people that ask about what you’ve been doing the last few years. You smoothly evade any and all questions about where you were when the Accords were being signed all those years ago, and you managed to deflect any mentions of the final battle with Thanos. 

Easy talk, easy words. Lies slip in and out of your mouth to fill in the gap in your resume, words that you’ve come up with to properly fool all these people around you. You watch as they eat up every single syllable that comes out of your mouth, and you can feel your pockets grow heavier with each and every smile you give. 

It doesn’t ease the weight on your heart.

When you give yourself a break, you steal a flute of champagne from a server’s tray as you make your way to the balcony for some fresh air. You leaned your elbows against the concrete railing, staring out into the sky before you. The summer air is blankets over you, though it does little to warm you in the gown that Valentina shoved you in for the night. 

“You make it look so easy.”

You looked over your shoulder, finding Yelena coming to join your side with her own glass of alcohol. She offered you a smile, pressing her back against the railing as she settled beside you. 

“What’s easy?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at her.

“The mission. The… talking to the people inside the gala. The interactions, all of it,” she shrugged. “Being an Avenger.”

“Your sister is the one who made being an Avenger easy,” you said, letting out a scoff of a laugh as you shake your head at her. 

A small, sad smile tugs onto her lips as she turns to look at you. She studies you for a few moments, then lowers her eyes. “Did you know her? Know her… well, I mean,” Yelena asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah,” you nodded to her, returning her smile. “I did.”

Silence carefully settles, and the two of you drink slowly. You keep your gaze out towards the balcony, while Yelena watches your six, focused on the party going on through the doors. When her glass is empty, she releases a breath.

“Barnes is horrible,” she said, making your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “I’m also trained in espionage. I get it– he fucking sucks. I saw him pose for photos.”

You let out another laugh, shaking your head at her words. “God. We’re not going to convince anyone if he keeps it up. I thought he was raised in the forties. Chivalry central.”

“He’s old,” Yelena shrugged. “Maybe he just needs a reminder on how to flirt.”

You made a face at her, and frowned. “There’s no need for us to actually flirt, Yelena. It’s all fake, remember?”

“Maybe it needs to be real for him.”

The media adores you and Bucky for some weird reason. 

Or rather, it’s you they adore. 

When one of the original Avengers returns to New York to fight the hard battles again, it’s like a saving grace, you supposed. The memes turned into soliloquies and love letters. People began to take the New Avengers seriously overnight after the charity gala, but it’s also due to your own handiwork from the appearance that you had at the White House after the gala. 

You've gone to meet with the government– to meet with Captain America. It was to congratulate you, to welcome you back into the line of work. Since the original heroes were gone, America had become real sentimental about their fanfare with making sure everyone knew who they relied on now. 

Cameras are all in the two of your faces as you stare down Sam Wilson. You pretend not to feel pain. You pretend you don’t miss him. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when his smile doesn’t meet his eyes when you shake his hand.

“So… You and Buck, huh?” he asked you, and it was loud enough for some of the cameras to pick up. 

“Yeah. Me and Bucky. We got real close,” you said, smiling at Sam. 

“When did that happen?” he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. 

“Steve introduced us,” you replied, a fond look in your eyes as you spoke. You almost looked dreamy. 

Sam couldn’t say a damn thing against you– not when it meant having to discredit the previous Captain America. And the media loved it. They loved the story that Bucky’s best friend, the last leader of the Avengers, had created the couple between the New Avengers. It was almost a classic love story.

You and the rest of the team continued to watch your interviews at the White House. Watched as you spoke so highly of your new team, spoke of the plans that you were aware of, how you would be allocating the funds in Brazil to several different areas of need to ensure that each impacted site would be taken care of. 

You were heavily leaned into the fact that none of this could be done without the help of Bucky, who regretfully could not have made the appearance to the White House as he was currently out on the field doing exactly as you were saying at that moment. You were simply being the spokesperson as you were the most familiar face to the people at this time. 

“Reliability creates credibility,” Valentina said, a smirk on her face as she paused the clips. 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Ava sighed deeply. 

“It means that the plan is working– she is our most reliable figure on the team, so everyone will take what she says and worship the ground she walks on. It’s the original Avenger effect! Show them the engagement logs,” Valentina sighed, and snapped her fingers at Mel.

Immediately, a new presentation was being brought up to the screen. You all watched as bar graphs were brought to life, showing the positive incline of the last few months of how the media was buzzing about the team.

Since you had been rumored to be returning back to hero work, there had been some better talks about the team. Since you were spotted working in Brazil, right next to Bucky’s side the entire time, the whispers elevated to a decent chatter. After the gala, a storm had kicked up. Now with the White House appearance, and the construction in Brazil, this was the best interaction that the team had been receiving online since they saved New York from the Void. 

“This is a great start,” Valentina said, then turned to look at you, then to Bucky. “But we need more from the two of you. More love story.” 

Both you and Bucky slumped in your seats. You watched as his eyebrows pinched together, then followed the way he took his vibranium hand and dragged it down around the scruff of his mouth. 

You’re not really sure what was talked about the remainder of the meeting. You’re trying to weigh the pros and cons of continuing this facade with Bucky. Is it really worth it, at the end of the day? Truthfully, the paycheck Valentina is giving you weekly is nice. Nicer than what she was giving you when you were just doing the shadow work when you completed her dirty work, but still. 

Guilt continued to build within you. You had locked eyes with a woman outside of the White House, when you were walking out– and she thanked you. Something in you made you stop. You asked her what for. She said you and the Avengers saved her, many, many years ago– and that she’s happy that you’re alive. That one of the originals is back at the frontlines, leading the new generation of heroes. 

She told you what a relief it was for you to return, and it’s nice that you can find love with one of these new heroes amongst the craziness of your line of work– that it must be nice to have someone close to lean on. 

You only gave her a tight smile, and told her to continue to stay safe.

You leave the conference room the same time everyone else does, when you see them get up from their seats. You don’t meet Bucky’s eyes, even though you know they’re on you. He’s still watching you. He’s still trying to figure out why you’re here. What your purpose is.

You don’t really know what you’re doing either.

Either way, you grab your laptop from your room that night. You’re showered, in pajamas, and you’re over everything. You know where Bucky’s room is– down the hall and near the fire exit. It’s the quickest way to escape if there’s ever an issue within the tower. Part of you knows that he chose this side of the tower because Steve had his room in this wing, too.

Bucky’s door cracked open after exactly five seconds of you waiting outside. You don’t allow him to let you linger in the hallway– you shoved your way through, crossing the threshold of his room.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Bonding with my boyfriend,” you replied, and sat down on the edge of his bed as if you owned the space. Your legs are crossed under you as you flip your laptop open, and begin to pull up your playlists.

There’s nearly nothing in his room. Nothing memorable or personal. It’s almost like he’s a guest here. The only splash of color is his bedsheets, which are gray, and the journal on his nightstand that you know isn’t his. It’s Steve’s. 

“Again– what are you doing?” Bucky asked, more exasperated this time than the last.

You glanced up at him, giving him a smile. He’s in a tank top– and his dog tags are chest. You can faintly see the scars on his shoulder peeking out from the straps, connecting with the seam of his metal arm. He’s standing there, arms crossed over his chest, with a frown on his face.

“Sit,” you said, patting the space on the bed beside you. “Let’s listen to music together.”

His frown only deepens. You continued to stare at him, expectant and waiting. You’re not leaving his room until he gives in to you. 

And he does. 

He shuts the door to his bedroom, and the bed dips beside you as he takes a seat, but he’s rigid– just like he was when he had to take photos beside you on the steps of the museum for the gala. He’s not even touching you, and he’s stressed out. 

“Why are we listening to music?” he grunted.

“You ask so many questions, baby,” you clicked your tongue at him as you clicked onto one of your playlists affectionately labeled Nostalgic Stimulation. “Was that also part of your media training?”

Music filled in the empty space of the room, and you turned up the volume just a little bit before placing your laptop in between the two of you. Bucky’s eyes land on your screen, taking in the different song titles as you fall backwards, closing your eyes as you rest on his bed.

“I know these songs,” he muttered. “They’re in Steve’s notebook.”

“They better be. I recommended half of them to him,” you hummed. Your eyes were still shut, but you knew his gaze had shifted to rest on the side of your face where you laid. “You listen to this kinda music, too?”

“Not really,” he sighed. 

“No?” you asked, finally looking at him.

Bucky had a sheepish expression on his face. Like he was almost ashamed of admitting it. He went back to looking at the songs on your laptop, reaching to touch the scrollpad– going through each of the song titles. 

“They’re… I mean the songs are good, but they’re not my style,” he muttered. “I gave it a chance.”

“What’s the issue with it?” you frowned at him. “These are classics, lover boy. Staples in history, if you will.”

“Classics,” he repeated with a scoff. “Sweetheart, you’re talking to someone that’s older than these songs. These are not classics to me. Besides, you didn’t strike me as someone that listened to classics, either.”

Your lips parted, and you blinked. Fine. He got you there.

“Well, part of the reason I enjoy these songs so much was because we used to play them all the time,” you shrugged, moving to sit back up. “All of these songs in this playlist specifically just remind me of good times.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“The team,” you answered, meeting his eyes. You saw him pause for a second, his breath catching in his throat. “Sometimes, we would wake up to Tony listening to these songs in the lab. Other times these songs would be in the gym while Steve and Natasha were sparring. I would play them while I was cooking in the kitchen. We would listen to them together to unwind after a longer mission in the jet on the way home… So yeah. Good times.”

You’re grateful that you’ve already turned the music on to fill in the silence. Bucky doesn’t answer you for a while, and you don’t elaborate your words to him. Yet, you two still stared at each other. 

The more that you talk, the more that you reveal about yourself, the more he relaxes. It seems Yelena’s words were right. He needs to believe that it’s real. That you’re real. You’re trying to convince yourself all at the same time that this is real, too. 

“What about the other part?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged, and gave him a sad smile. “I’m lonely.”

Since that night, you continued to come to Bucky’s room as often as you could. Once the rest of the tower falls asleep, you’re making your way down the halls with your laptop and phone. You no longer knock, and Bucky doesn’t expect you to do so anymore. You just push your way through, shut the door behind you, and drop onto his bed.

Bucky doesn’t even have the energy in him to look exhausted at your appearances. You don’t know if it’s because you admitted to him that you’re lonely, or if it’s because he relates to it. Deep down, you’re starting to think he enjoys your company, with how he lets you do whatever you want. You don’t want to admit it, but you’ve begun to look forward to your nightly escapades with him, too. 

You pretend that it’s just a stepping stone for the mission. That it’s only for the mission– to make Bucky more comfortable with you, but deep down, something is shifting. You’re changing, too. You don’t find so much fault in every corner of the tower. You try to pretend that the time you spend in Bucky’s room isn’t extending longer and longer every night.

You’ve turned his room into a rock concert venue. You taught him about raves, and how young folk these days can and will drug themselves on purpose for maximum fun. Bucky looked mildly horrified at the thought, and then you turned on some EDM music. The poor soldier couldn’t wrap his head around the various synthesized tracks before he asked you to turn it off. It was the only time he asked you to change the music, so you indulged in his request. 

When you ran out of music to talk about, you started to bring other things to his room. Like alcohol. 

“You know I can’t get drunk, right?” he asked, eyeing the several bags in your hand.

“Which makes this so much more fun,” you smiled at him as you started unloading the items onto his desk. “I’m making you my guinea pig.”

“Your guinea pig?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing.

“Maybe bad wording choice given your background as an experiment, but indulge me a bit here, okay?”

You watched as he picked up some of the other items that you brought and sighed deeply. You met his eyes, and watched as he simply could not fight back against you. He just sat back down on his bed, defeated.

“Have you ever had soju and yakult before?” you asked, already opening up the probiotic drink.

“What the hell is a yakult?” he asked, slightly exasperated.

“Oh, you’ll love this, babe.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

But, he did love it. In fact, it was his favorite drink of the night. It was yours, too. You started off on the easier side of alcohol before you had shifted into deeper territory. You were having a blast, mixing several different things and watching his reaction. Some of them had him looking pleasantly surprised. Others made him demand for you to give him another shot of soju. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to be mixing light and dark alcohol in one night, sweetheart,” Bucky told you with a raised eyebrow as he took a slow pull on his whiskey. 

You groaned at his words. “You are a buzzkill. Let a girl do what she wants.”

“It’s my room that you’re going to throw up in.”

“Just toss me into the hallway if I start going green,” you muttered, pouring yourself another glass. You’d long stopped mixing anything. You two were just drinking at this point. After throwing back your alcohol, you stared at him, and he was already looking at you. You frowned. “I wonder if you can get alcohol poisoning.”

“No, doll. I can’t get sick,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You on the other hand–”

“I’m not even drunk.”

“You’re slurring your words.”

“I am not.”

“Debatable,” he scoffed.

He was right. You passed out in his room that night, and woke up tucked into his sheets. You weren’t anywhere near his bed last time you remembered anything. You were sitting at his desk, still chatting with him. You recalled giggling with him, drunk off your mind, him smiling at you while you talked about things that you couldn’t recall. 

Now, the entire room was cleaned up. The mixers and alcohol were back in the bag that you had brought, and Bucky was sitting at the desk. He was also asleep, chin tucked to his chest, arms crossed. 

Your heart slightly ached at the sight.

Bucky refused to tell you what you said to him that night. At the very least, he promised to you that you didn’t embarrass yourself. You decided to swear off alcohol for the time being. You started bringing your laptop back to his room, and made him sit beside you at the head of the bed.

“This movie fucking sucks,” Bucky muttered beside you, trying to stay quiet like you were in a movie theatre despite the fact it was just the two of you and you’d seen this movie hundreds of times before. 

“It’s the pinnacle of cinema, babe,” you whispered back. “Are you really Steve’s best friend? He loves this movie.”

“Steve has questionable tastes. Like being your friend,” he grunted.

Your response was to toss a popcorn kernel directly into his face. Bucky doesn’t even attempt to dodge it. He allowed the buttery thing to smack his cheek, then drop onto his bed, leaving a grease stain onto his sheets. He sighed, shaking his head before picking it up, and throwing it into the garbage can in the corner of his room. 

“The cinematography is all over the place,” Bucky continued. “How can you say this is the pinnacle of cinema? Are we not in the modern world–”

You press the space bar on your laptop, and angle your head to look at him. There’s a smile on his face. He’s fucking messing with you– teasing you. He meets your eyes, and his grin only grows wider. 

“You waited until we were more than halfway through the movie to tell me that you hated it?” you asked.

“I had to make sure that I really did hate it,” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes at him, “You’re awful.”

“And yet, you still keep coming to my room every night like you own this place.”

“What can I say? I’m just visiting my boyfriend every night, like a dutiful girlfriend,” you huffed, pulling the device back onto your lap to find a different movie to watch with him.

Bucky snorts beside you, shaking his head. “Right. Because that’s what we are.”

“That’s what the world thinks,” you hummed, scrolling through the different options. Nothing looks appealing to you, and if Bucky thinks the movie that you two were just watching was bad then shit– everything you’re gonna choose is going to be bad. 

“Media engagement has been more positive,” he said, almost a bit quieter. 

“It’s because you started touching me like you actually like me during press interviews,” you said, closing your laptop. You gave up. “We’re really selling Val’s publicity stunt. Gotta give it to her– America does love love.”

A small laugh escaped his chest. “It’s more you than me doing the work.”

“You’re doing just fine, Bucky. I’m sure it was difficult for you to act like you love me when you had no idea who I was,” you sighed. 

“No– even now… You coming every night. It was for the mission, right? So I could get to know you. Be more comfortable with you,” Bucky said. “I know you don’t want to be here. I still don’t get why you’re here, but… I’m glad that you are.”

You can’t meet his eyes. 

The shame that you’re feeling is threatening to crawl back up your throat. The past few weeks, you managed to shove it all down. You had forgotten about it. Pretended it didn’t exist. Right now, it’s hard to ignore.

You take in a slow, steady breath.

“You never told me what music you like,” you said, and lifted the screen of your laptop. “It’s your turn to share some information about you with me.”

You’re about to hand over the device to him so he could search it up, but he gets out of bed. You immediately straightened, confused. Briefly, you wondered if you’d offended him. If that was somehow a taboo topic for him, but no. It wasn’t.

Bucky went to his closet, pulling out a vintage record player. He gently set it down on his desk, then went back to the closet to pull out another item– a box full of vinyls. 

“I like forties music,” he told you, a small smile on his face as he started fingering through the different records. 

Slowly, you got out of bed, too. You join him by his side, looking over his shoulder at the various different tracks. They’re worn around the edges, the colors faded. They looked more than second hand, and were very well loved throughout the years.

“How long did it take you to get all of these?”

“A while,” he admitted with a shrug. “Many trips to the thrift stores. I learned what FaceBook Marketplace was, too.”

“Steve said vinyls weren’t a thing yet in the early forties,” you said. “I tried teasing him one day about it, and he got real defensive.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, and pulled out a Louis Armstrong record. “They weren’t… but I like ‘em. They give me that same form of nostalgic stimulation that you crave, too.”

You watched as he loaded the track, and placed the needle onto the record. Slowly, the music filled your ears. You turned to him, seeing a fond smile on his face as he listened to the song play. 

“Is your nostalgia from before the wars?”

“Yeah… The dance halls,” he nodded, looking down at his feet briefly. “I was quite the dancer back then. Charmed a lot of women, went on plenty of dates… The music would play and I would be unstoppable, really.”

“And now, you tense up now when you have to give me a hug in front of a camera,” you teased lightly. “Do I need to put Sinatra in your earpiece when we go through our interviews?”

“Honestly? It might help,” he chuckled, meeting your eyes.

You watched him for just a few moments. There’s something different about him right now. Maybe it’s the music. It’s unlike what you normally listen to so it’s affecting you, but he looks different. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, not when the smile he has is so genuine. So real. 

“Pretend we’re in the forties right now,” you told him, watching his eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise. “Let’s dance, Sarge.”

“You can dance?”

“Not in the same way you can, but I’m a fast learner,” you grinned, holding your hand out to him.

Bucky’s eyes fall to your palm, and his smile only grows softer. You hate the way that your heart races at the sight. Gently pushed your hand away, before extending out his own. “That’s backwards, doll. I’m supposed to be asking you for the dance.”

“My apologies,” you laughed, sliding your hand into his.

He stepped in closer to you, his other hand moving to rest around the small of your back. You circled your arm around his, hooking your hand over his shoulder before he began to lead you in a gentle sway of the beat.

“Was there always such a respectful distance between dance partners in the forties?” you whispered to him, looking in between your bodies at the space. 

A sharp laugh tumbled out from him, but he pulled you in even closer until your chests were touching– until even air can’t pass through. When you looked up at him, you found he’s already watching you, a smile so wide on his face that there are slight crinkles around his eyes.

The air gets stuck in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to continue to breathe.

“Is that better for you?” he whispered back.

“Much.”

Bucky only shakes his head, in mock disbelief, but you two continue to sway along to the music. You could understand why there were so many girls after him back then, if this was how he danced with them. He’s humming along to the song, and you can feel his heartbeat from how close you are to him. 

It thumps against your own chest, slow and comforting. It’s gentle, and it makes your own chest hurt from the sheer kindness it emits. Bucky’s heart is just like his steps, and you know he’s taking this dance even slower than it needs to be because you said that you didn’t know how to. He’s dancing in half the time of the song’s tempo. 

You can’t help yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, a slow breath escaping your nostrils as you close your eyes. Bucky doesn’t stop humming. His grip on your waist tightens just a bit more, holding you impossibly closer to him. 

You don’t want the music to end. You don’t want to pull away from him, but the night is getting late, and you should head off to your own room for the night. You’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe you could convince him to pull out the vinyls again. He has a lot that you could go through. You could dance more another night.

It’s what you tell yourself as the needle hits the end of the record, and automatically lifts to avoid damaging the record. His humming has stopped, your swaying has come to a halt, and silence fills the air, but Bucky’s hold on you doesn’t loosen. 

“I should go,” you murmured to him, but you don’t detach yourself from him either. Your head remained on his shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck like it's your space to occupy. 

“Stay.”

You shouldn’t. 

You know you’re not here in the Watchtower for the right reasons– you’re not spending time with Bucky for the right reasons, and you know Bucky is suspicious of you. He has every right to be, but somewhere along the way– he decided he doesn’t care about those suspicions anymore. He’s placed his trust in you, but you haven’t told him the truth about anything.

Yet, you’re still undressing him with the same amount of vigor as he has when he’s pulling your own clothes off. Your laptop gets accidentally bounced off the bed when your bodies collide, and you both are momentarily alarmed at the sound of the shatter.

“Did you have anything important on that?” he whispered, hot breaths mingling with your own as he hovered about you.

“You really think I keep important Avenger level secrets on a fucking Mac laptop, Bucky?” you whispered back, eyebrows furrowed.

“I like it when you say my name.” 

“God, you’re so lame.”

The smile he gave you in return for your sass is devastating. Then, he’s lowering himself back down onto you, mouth catching yours before he’s lifting you back properly up the bed to rest comfortably against the pillows. 

Bucky’s body is slotted so perfectly against yours, blanketing yours in a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands are all over you, as if he’s trying to map you out, memorize you by touch as he’s too busy enjoying your kiss with his eyes closed. 

You felt his fingers pause at the scar on your thigh. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes zeroed in on it. You watched, breathless, as his fingers ghosted along the raised skin.

"Sorry about this," he murmured, meeting your gaze again.

Guilt. There was guilt in his eyes. Regret. Pain and brief darkness threatening to creep up onto him. You couldn't have that, not right now- not when you were both naked, and you were under him.

"It didn't even hurt," you told him, tugging him back down to you, capturing his lips once more. "But I won't forgive you if you look at me like that again."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered against your lips, as a small laugh falls from his lips- one that makes your chest soar. Yes. That is what you want from him. Not the sadness or the hurt. His hands are back on you, exploring once more.

“Bucky…” you sighed against his mouth as his fingers danced along your stomach, threatening you with a promise to go lower. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, breaking away from your lips. “I got you, doll.”

You can’t help but dig your nails into his shoulders when his fingers slide up and down your folds, feeling you out. A low, contented moan escaped from his throat and he lifted himself off your body slightly to look between your legs– to see the glistening state between them.

Bucky watched as his fingers dipped within you, watched as your puffy lips split open for him, watched as your mouth fell open in a breathy moan as he slowly began to massage you from within. 

“You’re soft all over, sweetheart,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

You didn’t have a response for him, not when he added a second finger into the mix. His gaze was intense, so fixated on watching your body respond for him like he didn’t want to miss a single twitch or tremble in your muscles. 

Bucky didn’t stop even though you could see his own member, hard and leaking against his stomach– begging to be touched. No, he was more focused on you– wanting you to fall apart from his touch, from just his fingers alone.

You were more than happy to oblige if it meant that you could finally get all of him inside of you.

“Bucky, hurry,” you murmured, though you were still panting, still twitching from your high. His fingers were still inside of you, still moving. “Bucky, I need you.”

“You’re so impatient,” he said, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval when you tugged on his wrist, trying to get him to shift away. 

“Acting like you don’t want me, either,” you huffed, a little breathless as he began to line himself up with you. 

“Baby, you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you,” he chuckled, and pushed in. 

You’re both silent for a few moments, mouths open in noiseless moans as you both take the time to adjust to the feel of each other. His forehead rested against yours as he took a moment to just let everything sink in. His hands squeezed at the curve of your waist, and a shaky breath escaped his lips.

“Jesus,” he muttered, then pressed his lips against yours.

You can only let out a small giggle in response– one that he returns right back. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him against you as his hips started to move. Slowly at first, still getting used to you, then gradually picking up speed.

Soft chuckles and giggles are being passed between your lips in the midst of breathy moans.

You ran your hands over his body– from the hollow of his throat, down his chest, to his abdomen, and resting on his hips. You just wanted to feel every single ridge and contour of him, wanted to feel the way his muscles moved and contracted as he shifted within you– wanted to feel him as deeply as he was feeling you.

You watched as he took one of your hands, laced his fingers with yours, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. All the while, his eyes were locked onto yours while his hips continued to rock deeply into yours. 

“So perfect, so, so pretty,” he muttered to you, making a shiver run down your body as he moaned out your name next.

He was the pretty one, but with the way that he was looking at you– the way that he was touching you? You couldn’t help but believe him.

Bucky held you in his arms like you were something to worship, something to love. You meet his eyes more than once, and they’re soft. Not hungry or desperate. They’re as gentle as his heart is kind, and you fall apart under his gaze. Bucky follows you right afterwards, whispering your name like a prayer.

He holds you tight that night. Tells you to stay again, in his bed. With him.

You don’t need much convincing.

You don’t know why you’re here, in this secluded corner of a coffee shop. The worst spot to meet up, in your opinion. You would’ve chosen the Watchtower. It was private, at the very least, but no. Sam wanted to meet in public. Why? You have no fucking clue.

Then again, that’s the general theme of your life for the past three and a half months. You don’t know why you came back to New York. You’re not sure why you went on those missions. There’s no clear reasoning on why you went through every single interview and public appearance that Valentina made you do for the sake of Operation: Romance the Public. 

Well, that’s all a lie. You have a reason. You know exactly why you’re here. 

Either way, you shouldn’t be sitting across from Sam with Bucky beside you, listening to the two of them argue about who should have the rights to the Avengers. Bucky asked you to come with him. Said it might be easier to convince Sam, to make the talk go easier since you know Sam, since you fought beside Sam as an Avenger. 

You tried talking your way out of it. Said it wasn’t a good idea. Bucky gave you one look and you were a goner.

“You’re operating as a government backed team– what aren’t you understanding? You’re doing the exact same thing that we fought against!” Sam hissed, trying to keep his voice low. 

“Do you think this is what I wanted? I was trying to take Val from her position,” Bucky replied, his voice just as hushed. “I didn’t expect for all of this to happen either!”

“You know, I get that– I understand that, Buck, I really do– but the name? The title? You know better than anyone how hard I have to fight to try to be worthy of my name and yet you can just waltz in here with a bunch of criminals–”

“The original Avengers were all criminals, too,” you cut in, and both men looked over at you. You met Sam’s eyes. “In case you forgot. We were criminals, too.”

“Don’t fucking start with me,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “Because I will not stop once I do.”

“Sam,” Bucky quickly said, trying to get his attention again. “I can’t change what happened. Please. I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m just trying to do what I can here.”

“By doing what? Faking to the world that you and little Ms. Perfect Avenger is in a loving relationship?” he asked with a scoff, leaning back into his seat. He’s still staring at you, jaw clenched tightly as he takes in a sharp, deep breath. “You left us. You left me and Steve when we needed you. You didn’t even fight with us. You dropped off the face of the fucking Earth, and now what? You’re back here for some fame? You’re so full of shit, you know that?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not here for fame, Sam. I wouldn’t need to join the Avengers again if that’s what I needed.”

“You are so full of shit!”

“Sam. Cool it,” Bucky warned.

“Why are you defending her? She wasn’t even there for you when shit went down the fucking drain!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Last time you guys met, you tried to fucking kill her, and vice versa!”

You dragged a hand down your face, irritation building into your chest as you listened to him talk. “Okay, clearly, this isn’t working. This civil conversation that you called us out here for? Over with, Wilson. I’m leaving. I’ll see you back at the tower, Bucky.”

“If it’s not about the fame, then what is it about?” Sam asked you. You met Sam’s eyes. He was challenging you. “You should’ve chosen a side. Because we got back together in the end like we always believed we would… and you were nowhere to be found—“

“You watch your fucking mouth,” you cut him off. Your body bristled, your heartbeat spiked. 

“Am I wrong?” he dared. “You’re a coward. You were back then, and you still are. All you know how to do is run.”

“That’s enough, Sam,” Bucky warned, trying to keep his voice even.

Sam wasn’t done yet. He kept his eyes locked in on yours, and you couldn’t even tear your gaze away from his. Your chest felt tight. Your breathing was getting restricted. You watched as he took in a slow, intentional breath as he calmed down, just a little bit. 

“You left us,” Sam said, nodding at you. “You were so afraid to lose half of the team back then, half of any of us back then… You didn’t even realize that you would end up losing all of us in the process.”

The chair clattered behind you as you pushed away from the table, and the rest of the coffee shop fell silent, looking into the direction of your table. You didn’t care. 

You were already out the door, and halfway down the street. Sam was right. All you did was run, after all. 

You dodged and weaved through the crowd of civilians, desperately trying to get away as fast as you could. You didn’t know where you were going. You just needed to leave— leave New York. Leave the country. Leave the Avengers again. Go back into hiding. 

Your lungs are burning within your body by the time you turn into an alleyway. Your legs can’t hold your weight anymore, and your back slides against the concrete wall as you bury your face into your hands. You’re desperate for air. Desperate for a release. Something to make it all stop hurting.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. I know Sam said that all you do is run, but that was like… a mile in five minutes.”

Your hands are being gently pried away from your face, and Bucky is on a knee in front of you, also slightly out of breath– but not for the same reason that you are. 

“Why did you follow me?” you whispered. 

“Couldn’t just let you run out like that–”

“I’m done,” you interjected, shaking your head. “I can’t do this anymore. The fake– the PR shit. The fucking team– us. I can’t do this.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion as he looked at you. You tear your wrists away from him, running your hands through your hair and squeezing at the roots. You’re going insane.

“What do you mean?” he muttered. “This– I get that it’s publicity and this is… a media stunt, but… the team– you and I– none of that is fake.”

“All of it is fucking fake, Bucky!” you shouted at him, releasing your hair. You have to close your eyes, and keep them shut tight. Otherwise, you’re going to be stuck looking at Bucky’s face, seeing the hurt that’s so clearly evident on his features. You can’t stand to look at it, when you know that you’ve caused it.

“I don’t get what you’re saying right now, doll,” he muttered, reaching for your hand again, and you want to cry. He shouldn’t be this nice to you. You don’t get why he’s being so patient with you.

“Bucky, I don’t want to be here,” you stressed, attempting to take your hand away from him. He only tightens his grip on you– interlaces your fingers together. “You know it, I know it– Sam fucking knows it!”

“Look at me when you’re talking.” It’s not a demand. It’s said as a request. He squeezes your hand, and then your name comes from his lips. Gentle. Soft. Almost reverent. “Please.”

A shaky breath exits your lungs, but you find the courage to look him in the eyes. And he offers you a small smile. It only makes you want to scream all the more. You stared at him, searching for the anger, the suspicion. There’s none of that. You don’t understand.

“Bucky… I should’ve chosen a side,” you whispered to him, heart hammering in your chest. “I lost everyone. I lost everything. I’m only here because Steve asked me to be. I fucked up– and I found out he wasn’t dead like Tony, like Natasha– so I searched for him. Found him retired in that farmhouse in the south, and begged him for forgiveness. I told him that I missed him, I missed the team, and that I was sorry that I wasn’t there for him and everyone else–”

You paused, needing a moment to take a breath. You didn’t understand how Bucky was still kneeling in front of you, taking in all of your words with such patience and clarity, but you were about to break down and start crying. 

“And I pleaded with him to tell me what I could do to make up for the shit I did to him, and he asked me to help you if the opportunity ever came— and it did– it finally fucking did, Bucky–” you said, your voice cracking. “I’m only here because I’m listening to the last order my Captain gave me. I don’t want to be an Avenger because this isn’t my team. These aren’t my people. I left my team. I betrayed them– I don’t… I don’t deserve to be here.”

“I know,” he said, nodding to you. “It’s okay.”

You stared at him, the tears slipping down your face. “What?”

“You already told me this,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “When you were drunk. You also made me swear not to tell you that you told me until you said it to me when you were sober.”

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping through.

“I just told you that we are fake,” you whispered. “That I– I’m only here because of Steve–”

“You also told me that you liked spending time with me every night,” he murmured to you. “And that hanging out with me was the first time in a long time that you had felt peace.”

“Bucky. I just told you our friendship is based on a lie.”

“I don’t think you would’ve told me the truth if you really didn’t care about me. Twice now, actually.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” 

“You’re talking to someone that has a horrible history, too,” he shrugged, a small smile tugging onto his lips. “If Steve sent you my way, then shit. I’ll send him a postcard. Never thought he would be playing wingman after all these years, but gotta give it to him. He always knew my type.”

A laugh of disbelief falls from your lips. “Seriously?”

“The media already thinks we’re together. I don’t mind it if we continue on with it. And from the looks of the conversation we just had with Sam…” A deep sigh escaped his chest, and shook his head. “We’re gonna be in some tough fucking shit pretty soon. We could use all the help we can get- if you want to keep going. I won’t force you.”

“You still want me on the team?” you asked.

“I think I need you there to keep me sane amongst the rest of them, actually,” he admitted. “They’re… a tough crowd.”

“They’re disorganized.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Bucky muttered, and you can’t help the smile that came onto your face at the exhaustion that briefly flashed through his eyes. He looked back at you, meeting your gaze, returning your smile. “Point is, I wouldn’t mind it if you were still there. I think that you deserve it, actually. For someone that claims to not give a shit about the team, that says that this isn’t your team all the time… You work harder than anyone on all those missions.”

“Old habits die hard.”

“Exactly,” he said, squeezing your hand just a bit more. “Come back to the tower with me? I need some help when Sam starts retaliating.”

“Is that all you need me for?” you asked, even though you already know the answer. 

Bucky’s gaze is locked onto you. There’s a small smile on his face as his eyes roam across your features, taking in your appearance. You’re not too sure what there is to smile about, not when you’re certain that your tear stained and mussed up hair is an absolute mess, but under his gaze? You can’t help but feel beautiful. 

He reaches, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he shakes his head. Your jaw is being cradled in his hand now, as he pressed his forehead against yours– just something to let you know that you’re real. That he’s real. To let you know that he needs you more than just for the team. He needs you, just as badly as you need him.

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy @star-yawnznn @gallifreyansass @nanikio @jmclouds @sundaepoet @the-salty-asian @overwintering-soldier @kjmonster111 @okaytrashpanda

[blackbelttoshop]

@briskofscribe

{A frustrated sigh expelled audibly from my lips when I saw the screen change that my flight had another delay} At this rate, I could walk there in my designer heels and still arrive before the flight has left this airport. {I muttered under my breath. Okay, so obviously I was exaggerating now, but I was frustrated so who could blame me? Another half an hour passing before they /finally/ starting to board the flight} Finally. {I murmured out as I retrieved my boarding pass from the front pocket of my bag and took my place in line with the other first class passenger's. It was nearly my turn to board when I saw an incoming call from Haley. I knew if I didn't answer now I wouldn't be able to see what she needed for about eighteen hours, so I paused to allow the people behind me to go first, so I could answer the call} Hey, Tutor Mom, I love you, but I'm about to board my flight... Can I call you when I land} "Brooke..." {Haley started to say in response and my heart dropped. I knew that tone. She didn't need to say more for me to know something was wrong} What happened, Haley? {A serious tone filling me as I instinctively stepped out of line completely so I could find out what was going on. My stomach tightening into knots when she told me Lucas had been in an accident... A bad one} Oh my God, Haley... Is he okay? {I asked as I swallow lowly; trying to push back the lump that had formed in my throat} "It's not good, Brooke... I know you've got a lot on your plate, and you're about to fly to Europe, but I wanted you to know. I'm just glad I caught you before your flight left." {It all making sense now why there were so many delays to my flight. Everything happens for a reason, right?} I'm on my way. I'll see you soon. {I said as I ended the call. I knew what this meant for my meeting, my company, and my career, but none of that mattered to me at the moment. All I cared about was getting to Lucas. Without a second's thought, I completely stepped out of the boarding line, sent a text for my driver to come back, and I rushed toward the exit of the airport... The airport wasn't far from the hospital, but it felt like an eternity before my driver finally pulled to a stop at the entrance} Thank you. {I said as I handed him a tip before exiting the vehicle. He didn't hesitate to retrieve my bags for me before I took them and rushed inside the hospital. I felt confused, disoriented, and wracked with worry as I frantically looked around for Haley or Nathan. Ultimately following the sound of Haley's panicked voice as I rushed down the hallway with my luggage rolling speedily along with me} Haley? How is he? What updates do you have? {I asked in worry as she pulled me in for a hug. The relief filling her that I had come back to wait with them} "We're still waiting to hear from the doctors... No news yet." {She briefly explained before her brows furrowed in question} What about your meeting and your flight?" {She asked as she ultimately broke the hug. I waved it off before answering} I don't care about any of that. I'm not going anywhere until I know he's okay. Thank you for calling me. {I said as I hugged Nathan and then the three of us took a seat in the waiting room... Anxiously waiting for any word on Lucas's condition}

Continued.. Our story has just started

@blackbelttoshop

Flirtation; it had become easy when it came to Brooke. When she first hit on me back in high school I was more taken back and found myself speechless. Because she was the head cheerleader, she was gorgeous, any guy would be lucky to find her naked in the back of their car. But at the time I was a loner, I had been pushed onto the team because of Whitey, because he saw the potenial for myself career in basketball. The closest girl I’ve been near was Haley and let’s be honest in mind she didn’t count. She was my best friend even to this day. But Brooke she took my breath away; she had that smile that lit up the room. 

She had that humor that made you lose all your senses. Lucas never knew why she eyed him, or why she wanted to get under him, but she pulled me out of my shell, she got me from the awkward guy who offered a smile with hands in his pockets. And now he found it easy to level to her playing field. To be there with her; over the years he built the confidence. And he had to let a harmless laugh escape bare lips. Was she hitting on me now..? Of course it was harmless we barely saw each other over the years. This was the first time in how long? So point was I was playing my cards here; lowering a hand just for her. 

“ if you keep handing me compliments I doubt we’d make it that dinner, Davis.” A playful wink came from his features. Brooke Davis at dinner; handing out all the compliments to a guy like myself; I was feeling flattered. For a second I was almost speechless and felt like that school boy that sat dumb founded in my car; what can I Say? This girl had her way of taking my breath away. The topic of quickie; now it was all fun and games. I had pulled up to the familiar curb outside of Haley and Nathan’s place. The big party balloons were the key; the indication of where the party was. A soft smile landed upon my lips as I had slowly turned off the car. I heard the brunette; a quickie with another girl in my bed; now I wasn’t shy like I once was. I had slept with women since being back in tree hill from my book tours, from the offers in New York, but no one ever compared to one Brooke Davis, but I wanted to ruffle some feathers; which is why I sent a side eye in her direction as I spoke. “ And what if I do have another women waiting in my bed after this party? Does it bother you the famous Brooke Davis..? An arched brow lifted onto his features. That was his cue; he pushed the driver door open letting his shoes hit the pavement. The loud screams of young children could be heard. Hearing the clicking of the car doors; the male had rounded his old car to meet the female at the curb. He stopped by her; shoulder to shoulder. 

A smirk found its way to his lips, he had lowered his head enough until his lips were mare inches from her ear again. A hint of flirtation in his voice. “ You’ll know the signal, or you can just grab my hand and lead the way, I’m sure you’re already trying desperately to resist.” A smirk; a confidence in himself as quick as he said the words; Lucas had straighten up when he heard his name being called. Turning his back to the female he blue hues met Skills. “ Hey man look who I ran into..” Causal; as if we hadn’t just discussed wanting to scratch that itch of a quickie seconds ago.

[mars-ipan]

so funny to me how ppl on tumblr will read a post that says, within the post, SEVERAL times, “hey this isn’t super well-thought out discussion and shouldn’t be treated as such i’m just sharing an individual opinion and my word should not be taken as fact” and then refuse to understand that whether they agree or disagree with the op

[viirazu]

[museenkuss]

It’s a good thing I’m a self taught princess because I’m putting up with so much and I’m doing it so gracefully.

[haemey]

Aaaaand that's why I prefer charts tonwritten patterns. Itxs so much easier when you can just see what you're supposed to do. Also makes counting way easier, becaude you can just look at where you're supposed to be in the pattern instead of doing calculus in your head

Novice sewing pattern: Cut out shapes. Line up the little triangles on the edges. Stitch edges together. We've also included step-by-step assembly instructions with illustrations.

Novice knitting pattern: yOU MUSt uNDerstANd thE SECret cOdE CO67 (73, 87, 93) BO44 (63, 76, 90) 28 (32, 34) slip first pw repeat 7x K to end *kl (pl) 42 * until 13" (13, 13, 15) join new at 30 pl for 17 rows ssk 27 k2tog mattress lengthwise BO and sacrifice a goat to the knitting gods. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT "INSTRUCTIONS," I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

You’re My Baby Too

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none

You'd think that the second pregnancy would be a breeze. You already know everything about how it goes, how to prepare, what to expect, but in your case, your second pregnancy was dreadful.

First trimester, horrible nausea, you spent half your time over the toilet with Lando holding your hair. Your baby boy was so much bigger than Isla it made your back hurt like crazy all the time, and the worst thing of all was that your baby boy didn't wanna come out.

You prayed you wouldn't give birth before Lando finished the season, so when the season ended you were relieved. But then your due date passed, and nothing happened. Then five days passed after your due date, nothing again. 10 days after your due date - the baby just doesn't wanna come out.

You were frustrated, exhausted, and tired of being pregnant. You just wanted to be able to see your feet again and be able to get up off the couch without Lando having to pull your hand.

"It's because you make such a good home for him he doesn't wanna come out, love." Lando tried to calm you down in a nice way, not even realizing that he irritated you with that because he's been saying that for the last 10 days and your nerves have become very thin hearing it.

"I swear, if you say that one more time.." You barked rolling your eyes at him while holding your still very pregnant belly.

"I'm sorry, I'll shut up.."

“Thank you.” You glared at him.

He didn't hold it against you for your brazen response because he understood that it had become too much for you. Lately, he's been walking on eggshells around you because everything has been annoying you, and he didn't want to be the one to contribute to that.

When the twelfth day passed since your due date, you realized that too much time had passed and you even started to worry a little that something was wrong. So Lando decided to take you to the hospital, where you very clearly told the doctor that you weren't leaving the place until you gave birth.

You thought that by some miracle, as soon as you stepped into the hospital, labor would start and you would just pop the baby out and everything would be over in less than two hours just like it was with Isla, but of course that wasn't the case with this baby.

"I think we have no other choice but to induce the labor." The doctor said.

"Okay, how long does it take?" You asked. "Is it like natural labor or?"

"Induced labor can last from a few hours to a few days, it depends. It's most often completed within 12 to 18 hours from the start of the procedure."

"Oh my God" You sighed in despair with tears in your eyes and Lando immediately squeezed your hand to offer you at least some comfort.

"Does it hurt more than a normal birth?" Lando was very concerned about how painful it would be for you. While you were giving birth to Isla, Lando was of course by your side, and even though it was much shorter and easier, he was still terribly shaken to see the pain you went through.

"I don't want to discourage you and scare you right from the start, but many women have said that induced labor is more painful."

And boy oh boy was it painful.

When they gave you the drip to induce contractions, that's when the real agony began. The drip makes contractions stronger and more frequent and you can't even begin to explain what you'd compare that pain to.

You were sweating.

Crying.

Gripping the sides of the bed and Lando's hand, which at one point you thought you were going to break.

You honestly felt like dying. What was supposed to be the most beautiful experience of your life was quickly turning into a nightmare.

Lando was heartbroken seeing you like this. He was putting cold compresses on you, hugging you, kissing you, comforting you, begging you to endure this.

"I'm so sorry baby, I wish I could go through this instead of you. I'm so sorry."

He didn't leave you for a second, except when you caught a 5-minute break from the contractions and managed to close your eyes for at least a moment and calm down. Lando said he had to go to the bathroom.

He lied actually. Instead he went to the hallway outside your room where his parents were patiently waiting. By the look on his face, Cisca and Adam could see that Lando was not well and that he himself was traumatized.

Lando didn't say anything, he just hugged Cisca and buried his face in her neck, soaking her shoulder with tears.

"I'm so fucking scared for her. It wasn't like this the first time." Lando cried quietly.

"Oh honey, y/n's going to be alright, I promise you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but soon this will pass and you'll be going home with your baby." Cisca comforted trying to lift his spirits. "Honey, you need to get yourself together, alright? She needs you right now and you need to be there for her."

When labor finally began after 14 long hours, you were running out of strength. You were so exhausted that you weren't sure if you would be able to push the baby out.

"Push y/n, push!" The doctor encouraged.

"I c-can't" You cried breathing rapidly. "Lando, I can't do it.."

"Come on baby, you can, I know you can. Just a little bit more and it's done, I promise. You've got this" He was pushing your hair out of your face, holding your hand, and holding your leg at the same time.

"Come on, push, push! I can see the head!"

Finally, the baby's cry was heard and soon the baby boy was on your chest. As soon as you saw him, all the pain instantly vanished.

He was so perfect. So worth it.

Lando couldn't contain his emotions as he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully observing his baby.

Later that day, when everything had calmed down, Lando was still there by your side. He couldn't be separated from you nor did he want to. His gaze shifted between you and the baby watching you both sleep peacefully.

He was tired too. He didn't really remember the last time he slept, but he knew you had it worse than him anyway, so he didn't even think of complaining.

"Lan?"

"Hey, love" His face lit up when you opened your eyes. When he saw you smile, it brought energy back to him. He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did, why didn't you?" You asked him when you saw the huge dark circles under his eyes and the same clothes from the day before yesterday. "Baby, please go home, I know you're exhausted too."

"The only way I'm getting out of here is with you two."

You didn't want to argue with him because you knew it was pointless. You were just grateful that he was there and that he was yours.

"My pretty, pretty girl. I'm so proud of you." Lando said softly caressing your cheek and looking into your tired eyes. "I love you so much you know that, right?"

"I know, I can feel it. I love you too, so much." You say before kissing him. "Where are our kids?"

"This little guy is sleeping here without a care in the world."

"And Isla? She didn't come with your parents?"

"No, I told them not to bring her because I knew you'd get too emotional if you saw her, and I wanted you to rest as much as possible."

"You should've told them to bring her, I really miss her and I can't wait for her to meet her brother." You said, but you could still see the worry in Lando's eyes. "I'm fine, Lan, I promise."

"We're done with the kids. Our family is complete now."

"Lan.." You chuckled.

"No, I'm serious. I never want to see you go through so much pain again. It's been so hard to watch you like that and not be able to do anything and I'm not putting you through it again. "

"It was worth it tho. Look at him, he's so perfect. I'd do it all over again for our baby"

"I know, I know, but you're my baby too." No matter how many children you have, his protective attitude towards you will never change.

"Oh, love.." You pulled his hand to get up from the chair and come sit on the bed next to you so you can cuddle up next to him.

"I can't wait to take you home, both of you." He said quietly kissing your forehead.

You rested your head on his chest, knowing that wherever you are, as long as he's there, everything is fine.

[silverynight]

Little Katsuki being the worst and I mean the WORST at trying to express his feelings for little Izuku and as a result, he ends up making the poor green kid cry and run away from him every single time.

Then Masaru and Mitsuki pick him up from school and the blond boy is tearing up, but at the same time frustrated and angry until his father asks what's going on.

"Deku doesn't like me!"

After asking more about the other kid, the Bakugos realize it's that sweet boy with green curls whose mother is one of the kindest people on earth.

"You mean little Izuku!" Masaru says with a smile. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll make friends with him in no time!"

"I WANT HIM TO BE MY BOYFRIEND!"

"That's my brat!" Mitsuki starts laughing, prompting Katsuki to get angrier until Masaru intervenes.

"Maybe you should tell him how you feel."

"I DID! HE DOESN'T LIKE MY LETTERS!"

"Let me see those, brat."

Katsuki gives them the pieces of paper that have the most ominous, weird messages that a little kid can come up with. All of them written in red ink.

I'll take your heart, Deku.

I'll make your heart explode, nerd.

You won't be able to escape from me.

Masaru remains silent for a couple of minutes while Mitsuki ends up on the floor dying of laughter.

Little explosions are coming from Katsuki's hands and he's about to start yelling, but Masaru stops them both in time.

He then promises to help his son with the letters.

After reading a cute letter, Izuku agrees to be Katsuki's boyfriend, although none of them know exactly what that means, but they hold hands all the time now.

Katsuki even thanks his father after that and Masaru almost cries out of happiness.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Eyes On Me

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

Simon is more than happy to worship you after you tell him how nervous you are to sleep with him for the first time.

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f receiving) body worship

Thanks @the-witty-pen-name for getting me to hop on the Ghost train!

You’re standing in Simon’s bathroom as you hype yourself up for what’s to come. You’re wearing the lingerie set you bought specifically for him but now that you have it on, you’re nervous that he’s not going to like it. This is going to be your first time together and you don’t know why you’re so anxious about it. 

Okay, maybe you do know. None of your partners have ever been able to make you come and even though you know it’s not your fault, you can’t help but feel like it is. You’ve spent so many dates, terrified to go to the next step and Simon has been the only person who’s been willing to take it slow. 

You’ve been on so many amazing dates in the past few months and after many makeout sessions in various rooms in either of your apartments that you’ve always cut short before going to the next step, you’re finally going to sleep together. 

You feel so lucky because he’s been nothing but a gentleman, going at your pace even though you know he’s been wanting more than you’ve given. He’s been a gentleman in every other area as well. He brings you flowers every time he sees you, he opens doors for you and even holds your hand or has his arm wrapped around you in some way since he always needs to be touching you. Not that you mind. You never mind. 

Your heart races in your chest as you unlock the door and open it, shutting your eyes tight as you step into the bedroom. Simon is sitting on the bed and he can’t believe his eyes when he sees you. You look so-beautiful. He already can’t believe that out of all the men that you’ve probably got on speed dial that he’s the one you’ve chosen to spend your time with. And here and now, he’s convinced that he’s seeing an angel. 

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say as he lets his eyes slowly rake over your body. The dark blue looks so good on your skin and he doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed that he’s already hard just from looking at you. His eyes snap up to your face to see if you’re looking and is confused to see that your eyes are shut tight. 

“Why are your eyes closed, angel?” He asks, his voice soft. “Come here,” he reaches for your hands and pulls you to stand in front of him. His thumbs rub along your knuckles and that calms your anxiety just a bit. “Look at me, please.”

But you don’t look at him. You can’t. Your bare skin is burning under his gaze and you can’t get yourself to loosen up. Your shoulders are to your ears and your eyes are shut so tightly that you’re seeing stars. You want to let go, to show Simon a side of you that no one else has seen, but you just can’t. 

You’re getting frustrated and feel tears welling up in your eyes because you wanted this night to be perfect and now you’re ruining it with your insecurities. Your hands slip from his and you bring them up to your face so he can’t see you cry which seems pointless since you know that he’ll hear you anyway. 

“Oh, angel,” he says, his voice even softer than before as he stands. He pulls you into his arms as his hands move up and down your back just like always. It’s the thing that always soothes you. That mixed with the sweet words he says softly in your ear. “What’s going on, my love?” 

You can’t get yourself to tell him. The words will definitely sound silly when they’re said out loud, but you feel like telling Simon will ease your mind. He’s always so good at that. You pull back  and when your teary eyes look into his, he feels his heart break into a million pieces. 

“No one’s seen me like this in so long so I feel nervous.” the words sit between the two of you and you feel even more nervous when he doesn’t speak. He’s just trying to gather his thoughts. The news is surprising to him. He has no idea why someone wouldn’t want to take you to bed. You are the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and he can’t believe that you chose him. 

“You have every right to be nervous,” he replies. “This is a big step we’re taking. If you’re not ready-”

“I am ready,” you cut him off. “I just-my past partners haven’t made me-” you cut yourself off, cringing at your words, but now that you’ve started your sentence, you have to finish it. It doesn’t seem like you need to since Simon nods, getting the gist. 

“You know that’s not your fault, right?” He asks, his hands caressing your face as the pads of his thumbs wipe away your tears. You nod as you bunch his shirt in your hands, leaning your head against his chest for a brief moment before looking up at him again. 

“I know it’s not my fault and I-I want to try if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, angel,” he smiles widely. “That’s more than okay with me.” He leans down, his lips slowly finding yours in a featherlight kiss. This is exactly what you’ve done plenty of times before. This is good. This is safe. This is comfortable. 

He takes it slow and you know it must be hard for him when you feel his bulge pressing up against you. You appreciate how gentle he’s being with you, that he’s willing to go at your pace despite how close he is to bursting. 

His hands move down to your waist as his tongue licks into your mouth. You moan into his mouth and he swears he’s going to come right there. You’ve moaned before, but not like this. It’s loud and breathy and desperate. God, you really have no idea how hot you are, do you?

“You’re killing me,” he says against your lips. First you wear this little thing and now you’re making those pretty sounds? It’s like you want me dead.” You’re pushing him towards the bed and moves with you, backing up until he falls onto the mattress. 

You’re standing in front of him and he pulls you to him, pressing feather light kisses to your stomach, letting his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties. He’s whispering the sweetest words against your skin and you feel yourself getting progressively more wet with each compliment. 

“So pretty,” Simon whispers against your stomach. “Can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be able to see you like this.” You feel weak in your knees and he’s quick to pull you into his lap before lying you onto the bed. He stands up, hovering over you and seeing you like this, spreading your legs for him, seeing your soaking wet, underwear, god, you’re making him lose his fucking mind and you’re not even doing it on purpose. 

Simon gets onto his knees between your legs. He widens them even more before bringing his head between your thighs. He takes the waistband of your panties between his teeth and pulls them down your legs, his eyes on yours the entire time he does it. You’re looking at him with your mouth wide open like you can’t believe what he’s doing because you can’t. 

You’ve never been so turned on by someone before and for the first time, you’re actually excited for what’s to come. For the first time, this doesn’t feel like a performance with fake moans and orgasms just so you can rush out the door after it’s over. This time, you want to stay afterwards and have him hold you in his arms while he tells you how well you did. It all just sounds so perfect.

“Eyes on me, angel,” he says, his voice still so soft. “Wanna make you feel good. Is that okay?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but the way you’re looking at him, very enthusiastically, he knows it’s okay to continue. 

“Can’t believe this is all for me,” he says as he looks down at your cunt. You’re wet beyond belief and he feels honored to be the cause of it. He slowly raises his hand and brings it up to your cunt. His fingers slow inch inside and you can’t help but let out a noise. You’re not sure if it’s out of pleasure or pain but what you do know is that you need more. 

Simon keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers pump in and out. You’re tight and considering your inexperience, he’s trying to be gentle even though he wants to go harder, to make you come completely undone, to get your slick all over his fingers. He wants to bury his face between your thighs and devour you like a man starved. 

But he’s a gentleman so he’s going to be nice. He’s hard beyond belief watching you moan as his pumps get progressively faster. You look so pretty like this and he’s staring at you, so focused on your face as he takes a mental picture that he will definitely be using to get himself the next time he needs some relief. 

“Faster,” you whine, your head already spinning. He’s barely done anything and you already feel close. You’ve never gotten this far with fingers that weren’t your own and you don’t know why you ever doubted Simon. 

“As you wish,” he responds and as his pace picks up, you feel yourself start to loosen up, to enjoy what’s happening and not feel like it’s a chore. He continues to pump and brings his face down to your cunt, his lips inching towards your clit which he brings into his mouth, giving it a rough suck, chuckling as he hears you gasp. 

He continues to lick and suck on your clit as his fingers keep working, your moans encouraging him to keep going. As he focuses on your clit, his fingers slow to a stop before sliding out of you, Simon now dedicated to devouring you. 

He brings your legs to rest on his shoulders, still making sure that he can see you from where he is. Your back hits the bed as you throw your head back, your back arching in absolute pleasure. Once he’s happy with what he sees, he shoves his face into your cunt, his mouth moving down to your slit to give it some love, still licking and sucking before he gives the spot a bite to test the waters. 

Your thighs tighten against his head so he takes that as an invitation to do it again and again, repeating the motion until you’re screaming his name and even then he doesn’t stop because you just taste so good.

This is easily the best orgasm you’ve ever received and you apparently want him to know that with the way his name falls from your lips in a loud moan. You don’t know when your hands got into his hair but now they’re tugging on it as his head is still between your thighs. 

Simon pulls away with a wide smile, feeling a sense of pride not only for himself for being able to get you there, but also for you because you were able to let all the unease go, to let yourself feel pleasure. And he couldn’t be more proud of you.