#these two are until I worked on this edit

[the-winter-spider]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 25k+

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

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

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

-----

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

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

For the most part, it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t laugh like he did.

They didn’t understand you like he did.

They didn’t know you like he did.

They didn’t make you feel like he did.

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

But you always brushed it aside.

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, finally, you saw him.

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

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

Everything stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you hear it.

Footsteps behind you.

And then, his voice.

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when he begins to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ran into Bucky last night.”

The laughter stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you and Bucky had thrown everything off balance.

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

And now here you were, breaking the unspoken truce.

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

“What do you mean you ran into him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…” you start, your voice faltering.

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

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

The words land like a grenade.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky’s words won’t leave your mind.

“None of them meant anything.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I love you.”

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

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

There’s another message waiting for you now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the questions won’t stop coming.

What if he’s really changed?

What if he means it this time?

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

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

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“I hate what loving you does to me.”

“I wish I could stop waiting for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watches you, his expression guarded but waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

The friendship started quietly, almost tentatively.

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

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

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

Bucky kept showing up.

Every. Single. Time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he never did. Not yet anyway.

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

And then you saw it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words caught you off guard. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

It started small, the fights.

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

Easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda smirked. “I was never your favorite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before you knew it, you were in his arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scared you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t see the biker coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave it,” she says firmly.

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

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

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

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

“Wait! Please, just wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a knock at your door.

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

“Bucky?” she asked knowingly.

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

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

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

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

You blinked, surprised. “Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

But it felt big. It felt impossibly big.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon, it was just you and Bucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

It was Bucky.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

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

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

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

And then you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And every time, your answer was the same.

"Yes, Bucky. I'm sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's going on?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you said quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded “Were okay.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam!” Natasha groaned, glaring at him.

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

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

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

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

Bucky.

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

Wanda noticed, of course. She always did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you turned, there he was.

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

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

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

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

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

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

The word lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No more running,” he promised.

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

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

But none of it mattered.

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

----

The difference this time was undeniable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt good. It felt right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fragile?” she repeated, her brow furrowing.

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

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

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

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

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

A few nights later, you found yourself on the phone with Sam, who had called under the pretense of asking about a new restaurant but quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

“So,” he said, his tone far too casual to be innocent. “You and Bucky, huh? Is it official?”

You groaned, flopping back onto your couch. “I knew this was coming.”

“What? I’m just checking in!” he said, feigning indignation. “As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure this guy isn’t screwing you over again.”

“Sam…” you warned, though there was no heat behind it.

He laughed, but his tone softened. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Honestly, I’m happy for you. I really am.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You are?”

“Of course,” he said. “I mean, look, I was ready to kick his ass a few years ago, and I’m still on standby if you ever need me to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh my God, Sam.”

“But,” he continued, his voice steady now, “I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that. Not this time.”

The warmth in his words made your chest tighten, and you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“Bucky’s always looked at you like that, you know,” Sam said after a moment. “Like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. He just… wasn’t ready before. And I didn’t want to tell you that back then because I knew it’d only hurt you more. But now? Now I think he’s finally figured his shit out.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Sam said firmly. “And no one deserves happiness more than you, Y/n. Not after everything.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt tears prick at your eyes. “Thanks, Sam,” you whispered.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now,” Sam teased, though his voice softened at the edges. “Seriously though, just know I’m here if you need me. But… honestly? I don’t think you will.”

You smiled faintly, your grip tightening on the phone. “I hope not,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice when he spoke again. “Anyway, I’m booking that reservation for the weekend. Make sure you fill your man in for me, will ya?”

“Sam!” you groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh-uh,” Sam cut you off, his tone playful. “Don’t even start!”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll take that as a thank-you for always looking out for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

“Anytime,” he replied. “Just don’t forget to tell Bucky he owes me one for letting him off the hook.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

“You’d better,” Sam quipped. “Now go enjoy your night. And don’t worry so much, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you hung up.

----

The next few weeks were a quiet kind of revelation. The Bucky you were getting to know now was someone entirely different from the man you’d fallen for before. Not because he’d changed into someone new, but because he’d finally let you see the parts of him he’d kept hidden for so long.

He started coming over more often, always bringing something with him. Flowers, your favorite coffee, a book he’d remembered you mentioning in passing weeks ago. He never showed up empty-handed, and every gesture felt thoughtful in a way that left your heart aching.

One Friday morning, you were rushing out the door for a long day at work when you nearly tripped over a small box sitting on your doorstep. Inside was a muffin from your favorite café and a note written in his messy scrawl: For the busiest girl I know—don’t forget to eat today. Love, B.

When you texted him a thank-you, he replied almost immediately:

You deserve it. Now go kill it today.

It was in the small things, the quiet moments, that you realized how much he’d changed.

-

The group met up for dinner at a lively restaurant. The table was loud, everyone shouting over one another as Natasha and Sam argued about who was better at pool. Wanda kept flicking her straw wrapper at Steve, who was trying—and failing—to mediate.

Bucky sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. It made you feel like the room could fall apart around you, and you’d still be okay.

“Nat, just admit you’re terrible at pool,” Sam teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

“I’m not terrible. I’m calculated,” Natasha shot back, narrowing her eyes.

“Sure,” Sam said, drawing out the word. “You’re so calculated that Steve had to make half your shots last time.”

“Excuse me,” Steve interjected, looking mildly alarmed. “I thought we weren’t bringing that up again.”

The group dissolved into laughter, and as you leaned forward to take a sip of your drink, Bucky reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

When you glanced at him, surprised, he just smiled and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “What? You’re beautiful.”

The table fell quiet for half a beat. Natasha raised a brow in surprise, Wanda exchanged a look with Sam, and Sam grinned wide enough to split his face.

“Barnes,” Sam drawled, shaking his head. “Look at you, all smooth. Who are you, and what have you done with the grumpy man we knew?”

Bucky just shrugged, completely unbothered. “He’s retired.”

But as much as you were finding your rhythm with Bucky, there was one thing that hadn’t quite settled: being at his apartment.

Every time you were there, you felt… uneasy. Not in an obvious way, but Bucky noticed.

You sat on the edge of the couch instead of sinking into it. You fidgeted more, your eyes flicking around the room like you were looking for something—or avoiding something. And when you thought he wasn’t looking, your gaze lingered on the places that held the weight of old memories.

It was after one of these moments that Bucky found himself talking to Wanda. She’d stayed late after a group dinner, and the two of them were cleaning up the kitchen when Bucky finally asked, “Do you think she’s okay?”

Wanda paused, a glass in her hand. “Who?”

“Y/n,” he said, running a hand over the back of his neck. “She seems… I don’t know. Off. Especially when she’s here, am I doing something wrong? I thought everything was going perfect.”

Wanda’s eyes softened. “Bucky, it’s not you. It’s just… this place. There are memories here. Moments she can’t shake.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s like the air still held pieces of her sadness. And she’s trying, but being here? It’s hard for her.”

Bucky listened, his expression unreadable. But later that night, as he lay awake in bed, her words stayed with him. Because of course, why didn’t he think of that all the times he held you and told you, you were everything and then just to leave you high and dry the next day. All the times he called you over for his own selfishness just to wash you away less than 24 hours after.

It wasn’t long after that when you noticed something different. Bucky was quieter, distracted, like he was carrying something he hadn’t figured out how to share yet.

After dinner at your place, you finally asked.

“Okay, what’s going on?” you said, setting your glass down and turning to face him.

He blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird all night,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair before leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking about moving.”

Your brows furrowed in surprise. “Moving? Why?”

Bucky shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he tried to keep his tone casual. But you could see the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, something he wasn’t sure how to say out loud. “Out with the old, in with the new, right?” he said, forcing a small smile before letting it fade.

You tilted your head, studying him, waiting for the real reason to come out.

He hesitated, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table before continuing, “That place… it’s got too much history. And if we’re going to do this,” he gestured between the two of you, his voice softening, “I want to do it right. I don’t want you to feel like you’re walking into a past you didn’t ask for.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, making your throat tighten. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as you tried to steady yourself. The memories of his apartment, those nights you spent waiting, wondering, hurting, flashed through your mind, and you realized he wasn’t just talking about moving to a new place. He was trying to move on from everything that hurt you.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm and steady, grounding you in a way that made the ache in your chest both better and worse. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nodded, your eyes stinging as you squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice so full of quiet conviction that it made your chest ache.

He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead before leaning back to grab the remote, a small, easy smile playing at his lips. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. Let’s pick a movie before we end up debating for an hour.”

You laughed faintly, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. But as he started scrolling through Netflix, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The way his shoulders relaxed when he was with you, the soft hum he made under his breath when he was thinking—it was so different from the guarded, distant man you’d known before.

And that’s when the question slipped out, unbidden but insistent.

“Hey, Bucky?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he replied instantly, turning to look at you, his attention focused entirely on you.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But then you forced yourself to say it, your heart pounding. “What are we?”

The question hung in the air, the silence stretching just long enough for doubt to creep in. But then Bucky set the remote down, turning to face you fully. His expression wasn’t hesitant or uncertain like it used to be, it was serious, calm, and sure.

“You’re mine,” he said simply, the words soft but unwavering. “And I’m yours. That’s all I know, and it’s all I want to be.”

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over you. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Does that work for you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if he’d said too much.

You nodded, swallowing hard as emotion bubbled up in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It works.”

His lips curved into a small, relieved smile, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmured, his thumbs still tracing soft patterns against your skin. “Because I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You just sat there, breathing him in, letting the weight of his words wash over you. The space between you didn’t feel like it was filled with doubt or hesitation, it felt solid. Real.

“Now,” he said after a beat, pulling back just enough to kiss the tip of your nose before reaching for the remote again. “What cheesy rom-com are we watching tonight? Because I know you’ve got one in mind.”

You laughed, the sound light and unguarded, as you reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. “You say that like you’re not the one who secretly loves rom-coms.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning indignation. “I’ve got a reputation to protect, doll.”

“Yeah, sure,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

He smiled at you, and the look in his eyes, the quiet joy, the undeniable love, made your heart ache in the best way.

You felt like you weren’t just falling. You were landing somewhere safe.

--

The sun was warm against your skin, filtering through the leafy trees that lined the bustling farmer’s market. The scent of fresh flowers, ripe fruit, and baked bread swirled in the air, mingling with the chatter of vendors and the hum of conversations. People moved through the stands, their arms laden with produce and bouquets, but the only presence that mattered to you was Bucky’s.

He was beside you, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps, his hand gripping the bags of produce you’d insisted on buying. Every now and then, he glanced at you, flashing that crooked smile that still made your stomach flip.

“Do you really need more peaches?” he asked, his voice laced with mock exasperation as he eyed the basket you held.

“Yes,” you replied, feigning offense as you picked out two more and gently placed them into the bag. “You’ll thank me later when I make that peach cobbler you won’t stop talking about.”

He grinned, leaning down so his forehead lightly bumped yours. “Fine. Cobbler wins. But only if I get to eat it straight out of the dish.”

You laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow as you moved toward the next stall. “Only because its your housewarming gift..”

“You're the best” he murmured, his voice warm, before placing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

At the flower stand, the vibrant colors caught your eye. Bouquets of sunflowers, daisies, and tulips spilled across the table in a wild display of life. You reached out, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of a sunflower as you admired its brightness.

You didn’t notice when Bucky stepped away, too absorbed in the moment. But when he returned, you turned to find him holding a small bundle of daisies, their white and yellow blooms bright against his dark shirt.

“For you,” he said softly, his voice low, almost shy.

The gesture made your heart ache, the simplicity of it filling you with warmth. You took the daisies, your fingers grazing his as you did. “You’re getting really good at this boyfriend thing,” you said, your smile teasing but sincere.

He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Just trying to keep my girl happy.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, and you looked away, pretending to study the flowers so he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks burned. “You’re doing a pretty good job,” you admitted quietly, more to yourself than to him.

At the next stand, baskets of apples were piled high, their shiny red skins gleaming in the sunlight. You picked one up, turning it over in your hand. “What do you think?” you asked, holding it up for Bucky’s opinion.

He leaned closer, pretending to inspect it with exaggerated seriousness. “I think it’s an apple.”

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

He grinned, grabbing an apple and tossing it into the bag. “Fine. You pick the apples, and I’ll carry them. That’s the deal.”

“Deal,” you said, sticking your hand out dramatically for a handshake.

Instead of shaking your hand, he pulled you closer by the wrist, his hand settling lightly on your waist. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, the touch sending a spark through you. It was such a small thing, but it rooted you to the moment—a quiet reminder of how far you’d both come. You couldn't believe this was the same stand you stood at 3 and a half years ago watching Bucky breaknyour heart and yet here you were now.

By the time you’d finished making your rounds, your bags were full, and so was your heart. You both found a spot on a nearby bench, the wooden surface warmed by the sun. Bucky set the bags down at his feet and pulled out a basket of strawberries you’d picked up earlier.

“Fresh strawberries,” he said, plucking one from the pile. “Can’t beat this.”

You reached for one, but he held it just out of your reach, grinning mischievously.

“Bucky,” you laughed, leaning forward to grab it.

“What’s the magic word?” he teased, his voice playful.

You narrowed your eyes, your hand hovering. “Please.”

He finally let you take it, laughing as you popped the strawberry into your mouth. “Gotta keep you on your toes,” he said with a wink, leaning back against the bench.

The moment was so simple, so easy, and yet it felt monumental. His arm draped over the back of the bench, his fingers brushing your shoulder absentmindedly. His other hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours like it was second nature.

The world felt quiet. Peaceful.

“Are you happy?” Bucky’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he broke the comfortable silence. His tone was so quiet that it almost got lost in the sounds of the world around you, the distant murmur of conversations, the occasional rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. But you heard it. You always heard him.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening at the way he was watching you. His blue eyes, soft and searching, held a depth that made your heart ache in the best way. It wasn’t just a casual question. It was something deeper, something raw. Like he needed to hear it, needed to know that he was doing enough, that this, what you were building together was enough.

“Yeah,” you said honestly, your voice steady but tender. “I am.”

For a second, Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, like he was trying to memorize the way you looked at him, the way you said it. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small, warm smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the sharp edges of his features.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in slow, deliberate circles, a quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t put into words. “Good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’ve never been happier.”

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a blanket, filling every crack you hadn’t even realized was still there. It wasn’t loud or grandiose. It was simple, honest, and real.

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His arm tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it was all so familiar, yet so new. It felt like home, but a version of home you’d never known you needed until now.

This was different. This was real. This was everything you’d both fought for.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

You felt him stiffen slightly, his breathing hitching as the weight of your words hung in the air. His arm around you loosened just enough for him to pull back and look at you fully, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else, something vulnerable and raw.

“You do?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly as if he didn’t dare believe it.

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but unwavering. “I always have,” you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. “And I never stopped.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not in a bad way. It was full of everything unsaid, everything you’d both held back for so long. And then you saw it, the way his eyes watered, the way his lips parted like he was trying to find the words but couldn’t.

You reached up, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing despite the lump in your throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice so low it almost broke. His hand came up to cup your face, his touch gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. “So much.”

You smiled through your own tears, your chest aching with a kind of joy you hadn’t thought you’d ever feel again. “Yeah, I know,” you said softly, your tone teasing but warm.

A shaky laugh escaped him, the sound raw and full of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the moment. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and shaky. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just breathed each other in, the world around you fading into nothing.

“I never deserved you,” he said finally, his voice trembling with emotion. “Still don’t.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you felt your throat tighten. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting on his cheek. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that made your heart ache.

“Bucky,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “You gave me everything, and all I ever did was hurt you. And even now, after everything, you’re still here. I don’t know why, but…” His voice trailed off, and he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve.”

You felt your chest tighten even further, a lump rising in your throat as his words washed over you. You cupped his face in both hands now, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life proving anything to me,” you said firmly, your voice trembling. “You’re already enough, Bucky. You always have been, even before.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you gently, like you were something fragile and precious.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “Every word,” you whispered. “I don’t care about the past anymore. All that matters is this. Us. Right here, right now.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he’d spent so many years building start to crumble. He let out a shaky laugh, leaning into your touch. “God, I love you,” he murmured. “I don’t even know if I can say it enough to make up for all the times I didn’t.”

“You just did,” you said with a soft smile, leaning in until your lips brushed his.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a quiet kind of intensity that made your heart feel like it might burst. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together again, your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

It wasn’t about wrong timing or unfinished promises—it was just you and him, finally in step, finally ready. Right person, right time, and this time, you both got it right.

[kamisobsessed]

Let Me Take Care of You

Summary: It's Dean's birthday and you want to take care of him. What better way than a little birthday sex? ;)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, mention of Sam, no use of y/n.

A/N: I wanted to post this yesterday for Dean's birthday but got sidetracked. Here it is. Not edited because I'm lazy. I personally think I'm horrible at writing smut, but here we go. Enjoy ;)

Warnings: Smut, Oral (m receiving), Fingering, Sub!Dean kinda, Unprotected sex (condom use is important though), p in v, rough sex, throat grabbing, Dean being tied up, I think that's all?

Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

--------------------------------------------------------

Today is Dean's birthday, so you had something special planned for him. Sam, was going out for the night so it would just be the two of you in the bunker. You wanted to take care of Dean on his birthday. Dean loved having control in bed, but you wanted to test what he would do if you took control for a bit.

You knew Sam was leaving soon so you went to your room that you shared with Dean. You stripped off your clothes and put on one of Dean's flannels which is long enough to cover your naked body, leaving the top few buttons open, enough to barely expose your breasts.

You sat at the edge of the bed with your one leg crossed over the other as you waited for Sam to leave and for Dean to come looking for you. It didn't take long before the door to your room opened.

"Hey sweetheart Sam just lef-" Dean began saying, but his jaw practically dropped at the sight of you. His mouth quickly formed into a smirk, "Well...happy birthday to me.." he said lowly as he walked over to you.

You stood up cupping his face and pulling him into a heated kiss.

"Lay down," you said to him, "let me take care of you."

"Yes ma'am," he smirked and he laid down on the bed.

You crawled over him, straddling his waist as you pressed your lips to his again. his tongue pushed against your lips begging to be let in, so you parted your lips allowing his tongue to dance with yours.

You broke the kiss, tugging at his shirt to signal him to pull his shirt off.

"I'm feeling kind of lonely now," he said tugging at the flannel that covered your body.

"In time, baby," you smirked. You trailed down his body, gently sliding your hand down his chest and stomach until your reached his belt of his jeans. You undid the belt, pulling it off as well as undoing his jeans.

You took the belt and moved up toward his head.

He raised an eyebrow at you, "oh, this is how it's going to be hmm?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm taking care of you tonight. It's your birthday, today is all about you," you said as you tied his hands to the bed post, "so, you're going to do what I say," you smirked. He let out a low growl, his dick now straining to be freed from his jeans.

Once he was tied up, you moved back down his body, pulling his jeans and boxers down off his legs. His dick was hard and already leaking with precum.

You took the base of him in your hand pumping lightly, making his head tilt back as he let out a breath.

You licked the tip, making sure the clean up every drop of precum leaking from it, before taking his whole length into your mouth

He hissed at the sensation, "Fuck, sweetheart" he moaned out as his hips bucked up a little into your mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down on him, taking him fully, ignoring the tears swelling in your eyes as you desperately tried to ignore your gag reflex.

Dean's breathing quickened, he pulled on his arms trying to free himself from the belt around his wrists. He needed to touch you, to feel you. But one thing hunting as taught you, is how to tie a good knot.

"Baby girl, I need to feel you, please" he begged.

You hummed a little as you continued working his dick with your mouth. Dean's eyes closed as his head rested back. He looked back down at you watching you pleasure him. He sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck I'm close" he groaned, still trying to free his hands. He kept moving his hips, so you held his hips down. You stopped what you were doing "Stay still, and maybe I'll untie your hands," you smirked at him.

He let out a groan as he forced himself to stay as still as he could.

You continued what you were previously doing, but you began unbuttoning his flannel that was still around you.

"Fuck baby girl, you better untie me soon" he groaned watching you toss his flannel to the ground, his eyes exploring every inch of your naked body.

You were also getting impatient, you needed to feel him. He was driving you crazy with the noises he was letting out. You let his dick out of your mouth with a little pop from your lips and you leaned up to him kissing him roughly. He groaned into your mouth as you reached up and undid the belt that held his hands up. In an instant his hands were on your body, one hand cupping your breast as the other pulled you over his lap straddling him.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he mumbled into your kiss

"Fuck me, Dean" you said.

"I thought you'd never ask" he smirked as he reached between your legs and lined his dick up with your entrance. He quickly thrusted up into your already soaking wet core.

Your head immediately fell back as a moan dragged off your lips.

Dean began kissing and sucking the skin on your neck as he thrusted up into you.

"You feel so fucking good, taking me so well baby girl, fuck you're so perfect," he said.

He turned you over so you were face down on the bed and he was behind you. He pulled your hips up and quickly pushed back inside of you.

"Oh fuck, Dean" you moaned out, gripping onto the sheets as his hips met yours at a fast pace.

He pulled you up so your back met his chest as he continued to fuck you senseless. His hand made its way around your throat as his other hand reached down to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it.

"Don't stop please don't stop" you moaned as he turned your head toward him, giving you a sloppy kiss as he kept the same pace thrusting up into you and circling your clit.

"You gonna cum sweetheart?" he asked "cum for me baby girl, cum on my cock."

The pleasure inside you exploded as you clenched around him, yelling his name and soaking his dick with your juices.

"That's it baby girl" he said lowly in your ear

He let you back down so you were face down on the bed as he continued to theust into you a few more times before his dick twitched inside of you. "Fuck" he moaned out your name as he spilled his seed inside of you.

He pulled out of you slowly, going over to the bathroom, he wet a cloth with warm water and came back out to you on the bed.

"Just gonna clean you up" he said as he gently wiped you up.

He cleaned himself up and then laid back down in bed next to you, pulling you to him. You laid your head on his chest, looking up at him with a small smile, "Happy birthday, De," you said.

"Thank you sweetheart," he grinned a little, "best birthday ever," he leaned down kissing your head. The two of you spent the rest of the night in each others arms, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I'm so bad at smut I'm so sorry😂 But I had this idea and it was Dean's birthday yesterday soooo, this is what came of it. Happy belated birthday to my favorite fictional character in the entire world🥳❤️

Tags: @ambiguous-avery

[solarwonux]

Illicit Affairs 2

lawyer!single father!jeonghan x laywer!f!reader

w.c 6.2k

warnings: single father jeonghan, cheating, angst, cursing, smut oral(female receiving), bathtub sex, unprotected sex. (also I edited this in rush so I’m sorry for any mistakes)

note: Happy Luna New Year, Highkey want a relationship like this I'm crying bye. Also this is a continuation of my other fics: In Another Life, and Illicit Affairs so if you wish to know a little more about the relationship between Jeonghan and the reader be sure to check it out. If not enjoy :)

masterlist 

“Stay over mine tonight...please”

Jeonghan all but whines as he rolls his carry-on next to yours, an over-exaggerated pout on his lips. His arms immediately go around your waist, reeling you in, planting a soft kiss against the tip of your nose. 

The entire flight back home he had been trying to convince you to stay over at his house instead of yours. Promising back massages, cuddles, and breakfast in bed. 

So far he hasn’t succeeded.

“We’ve been attached at the hip all week. How are you not tired of me yet?” You tilt your head, circling your arms around his waist, smirking.

“Sitting next to each other and working is not attached at the hip.” He grumbles, protruding his bottom lip, downcast eyes meeting yours, making you groan. There’s no way you could resist when he gave you the look. The same look Bomi would give you whenever she wanted to stay over for a sleepover and watch Aladdin until her body gave out and she was fast asleep against your chest. 

Girl’s night is what she would call it. 

Though you aren’t entirely sure how a six-year-old knew the concept of a girl’s night, but every time she brought it up with the same look her dad was giving you right now; there was no way you could say no. Especially when it was followed up with Jeonghan’s disbelief stare as the two of you kicked him out with a giddy goodnight, a kiss, and an I love you. 

You sigh, shaking your head, and rest your forehead against the space between his neck and his collarbone. His chest puffing out a bit, and his arms getting tighter around your tired form. A proud smirk etched across his features. He knew he had won, just like he always did, and for some reason that annoyed you to no end. 

Lucky bastard, you thought before raising your forehead. A cute little pout decorating your perfect lips. “Can I add a warm bath to the list of promises you made me the entire twelve-hour flight?” 

Jeonghan chuckles. Sometimes he had the suspicion that you only liked staying at his place because he had a bathtub with jacuzzi jets, fruity bath bombs, cotton candy scented shower gel, and all. The one thing your humble ode did not harbor. Nevertheless, he loved having you in his bathtub. He loved having you in his home. Loved to wake up to you and Bomi gossiping and giggling about the boys and girls in her class. Loved how you sometimes made dinner even though your cooking skills were limited to what a quick youtube tutorial could offer. 

He just loved having you in his life. 

“Mhm.” He nods, taping your temple lightly with his index finger. “As long as you let me join you.” He winks, bringing his arm up to the back of his neck. His face contorted in displeasure as he digs his fingers into his skin, “My muscles are tense. I need warmth and the skilled hands of my lovely fiancé.” 

You gasp, bringing your left hand up to your face. “Fiancé?” You narrow your eyes, turning your hand over, making Jeonghan roll his eyes. “Can’t be right. I don’t see a ring on my finger.” You sigh, shaking your head and bringing your hand down to rest against his chest. 

Six months ago Jeonghan had asked you to marry him in the middle of his living room. Fairy lights, blanket forts, Aladdin paused on the TV, and a sleeping Bomi on his chest being the only witnesses. The entire night he was nervous and you suspected it was either the embezzlement case he was working on or the vacation the two of you had been planning for months. You had concluded it was the latter.

The vacation was the only thing that made sense. As it would be the first time Jeonghan, Bomi and you would be alone as a family. And that made not only you but Jeonghan nervous. Though his nerves had more to do with the fact that he was going to propose to you during the trip. He figured he had known you for nearly a decade and even though he had been married to Bomi’s mom for five of those years. 

You were the only constant in his life. The only thing that didn’t change after becoming the head of the Gangnam firm, the divorce with Bomi’s mom, and the nasty custody battle after she appeared one night demanding full custody over the six-year-old. The one who was there every night holding him tightly through his many breakdowns. 

He loved you once before he met Soo-ah. He suspects he never actually did stop loving you even if what he felt for Soo-ah was real at some point. Loving you again was easier than breathing. So waiting another year to make you his forever until the world died for the two of you was a no-brainer. He couldn’t wait, so he asked you, and gave you a beautiful ring with an amethyst gem encased in white gold. The same ring his grandmother gave him one night after asking for advice.

Then he accidentally dropped it down the drain a month later. 

“You know I’m going to get you a new one.” He sighed, kissing your temple lightly. “I just haven’t found the right one yet.” He pulls away, taking a hold of your hand. “Please stop pressuring me, you mean a lot to me and I don’t want to give you just anything” He pleads silently, bringing your palm up to his lips and leaving a soft kiss against it. 

Your shoulders fall slightly. “I’m not pressuring you Hannie, I know your thought process but you can’t keep getting mad whenever a guy looks my way, talks to me, or approaches me at the bar.” You say jokingly, pulling him closer and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “You can’t blame me, that guy at the bar was flirting with you.” He scoffs, grabbing his carry on and dragging it along with you. In a haste you grab your own carry on and follow him, giggling. 

Two nights ago the two of you joined a company gathering with the New York branch. It was all fun and games, and seeing Jeonghan practice his English more with Joshua and Vernon and the other workers was adorable. That is, until you went to refill your coke at the bar. According to Jeonghan–who watched from afar–the man sitting next to you was flirting with you non-stop while you waited for your drink. Though, how do you explain to your stubborn lover that the man was just asking about the company you worked for and asked for Joshua’s contact info. You tried when you got back to the hotel room, but he simply wouldn’t listen to you. Instead he pouted and gave you the silent treatment until Bomi and his mom called. 

Honestly, for a second you wondered why he was acting all jealous when he wasn’t usually like that. But at night while the two of you got ready for bed, in the bathroom with a steamy mirror due to your joint shower. He apologized for his actions. He didn’t offer any other explanation, he simply just gave your forehead a kiss and said he was sorry for acting out of line and taking his anger out on you when he knew you weren’t at fault. 

And that’s all you could ask for. Your lovely fiance has been through a tough year. With a new job position, a nasty custody battle, and seeing his baby grow up and not be a daddy’s girl anymore was taking a toll on him. And now, he knew he would be seeing less of the two of you considering he would have to take more trips down to the New York firm as part of his new job description. 

His stress was beyond belief, but the two of you were trying to work through it as best as you could. Not only for your blossoming relationship but for the sake of the little girl who recently started calling you mom. 

“Baby,” you say, finally falling into line with him. “Don’t get angry, I won’t bring it up again. The issue has been resolved, but you know when you’re ready you can tell me what triggered all of this.” You lean into his side. “We are a team and I want to try to help you with this.” You add, and he stops walking right at the entrance of the airport. 

Jeonghan turns to face you and opens his mouth and closes it. He shuts his eyes for a second looking for the right words to say. Lately, he’s been practicing breathing exercises when he gets too overwhelmed. So, he counts to ten with each deep breath he takes and then opens his eyes. 

“I know, and I want to tell you but not here and not right now.” He says calmly. And without leaving any room for you to answer, he turns around and walks out of the airport and hails a taxi. 

You shake your head with a worried look on your face, and take a deep breath before following him out. Jeonghan is waiting for you besides a bright yellow taxi. He’s smiling but his eyebrows are slightly furrowed. 

The problem with Yoon Jeonghan is that he carries the entire world on his shoulders. It’s always been hard for him to open up. You’re lucky that you have gotten him to relax a little more these past few years. But that doesn’t stop the little part of you who wishes he was much easier on himself, and that he stopped blaming himself for what happened with Bomi’s mom. You know he doesn’t love her anymore. At least not in the same way he used to. But you suppose it’s the same thing you feel for Seungcheol. You simply love the person he was before he betrayed you. 

Although, the two of you have moved on from your exes. You know it’s harder for Jeonghan since he does share a child with the person who betrayed him. You know he sees Soo-ah in little things that Bomi does. And you know you won’t ever be her mom. But your love for the two of them is greater than anything in this world. So just like he’s fighting everyday for you and Bomi. You will fight as well. 

With a deep sigh, you approach him and the taxi. Without a word he puts your carry-on in the trunk of the car. He quickly then makes his way to you and kisses your forehead, a silent plea of understanding before opening the door for you. 

It’s amazing how for Yoon Jeonghan you’ll wait until the end of the world.

Jeonghan’s bathroom was one of your favorite things in his house. It was spacious and welcoming. The white tiles reflected the morning sun through the overhead sun roof, casting a warm glow throughout the entire bathroom. The bathtub and shower were separate, which was amazing considering you lived in Korea, and that was a rarity. But Jeonghan had expressed once that he had the bathroom remodeled before he moved in and Bomi was born. The thought process was that it would be a lot easier to give Bomi baths when she was younger. 

However, Jeonghan didn’t move in a year after the house was completed. His agony over Soo-ah leaving him a few days after the birth of their baby girl kept him from moving in. He thought if he stayed she’d come back, but she never did. 

You suppose the thing you like most about Jeonghan’s bathroom is the fact that your things were scattered around, intertwining beautifully with his things. Your toothbrush stays next to his and Bomi’s, on the marble double sink counter. Where you have your own sink now. Your skin care had its own row in the bathroom cabinet. Even your hair dryer, curler and iron had a space of his own. In the shower your shampoo, conditioner, and body wash sat next to his all-in-one shampoo. Though, you’ve started to suspect that he uses your things from time to time, especially when you’ve been away for longer than usual. 

Now, as you lay embraced in the warm water of the tub, a sparkly bath bomb thrown in the mix called–Sex Bomb. You can’t help but wonder when the two of you got so entwined. Was it after having mind blowing sex in his office and calling Seungcheol in the middle of it. Was it before that at the bar when he first confessed to you years ago. Or was it a year ago when after a year and a half of dating and taking it slow you finally decided to take up his invitation to have you over for dinner. 

It’s like you haven’t left since and instead have started to slowly move in. Honestly, at this point you spend more time in Jeonghan’s house than in your apartment. Your excuse is that it’s closer to work, but the truth is this place feels more like home than your own place. 

You sigh, and close your eyes, sinking deeper into the warm water. The potent scent of your eucalyptus and spearmint candle, calming your nerves slowly. 

“Can I join you?” Jeonghan calls from the door. You open your eyes and sit up, crossing your arms on the edge of the tub and leaning your chin against them. He’s standing before you, a towel wrapped around his slim waist. The faint line of abs adorning his torso, not because he works out, his shoulder injury prevents him from doing vigorous workouts, but he does attend a pilates class twice a week with a bunch of ajummas who are always asking for updates on Bomi. It’s cute, and you love the way he talks about them. 

You smile, “there’s enough room.” You say. He drops his towel, revealing everything. His legs were finally gaining weight again. Sometimes you get sad when you remember the custody battle, and how he stopped eating, and would drown himself in work. Sometimes the only thing he ate was two iced americano throughout the day. That’s when you started bringing him lunch from the cafeteria at the firm and sat with him until he ate it all. That’s when you started coming over more often and attempting to cook him dinner. You admit it wasn’t very good, but he would eat it all without protest. 

Your heart would swell with love and sadness as he took each bite. He’s recently started to gain a little more weight and look more like himself. Instead, of the hollow shell of a human that consumed him during those gruesome months. 

Jeonghan gets closer to the tub and you move forward a little to give him more space. Once he’s settled behind you, his legs come to rest beside yours and his arms circle around your waist. “I didn’t mean to act like a jealous prick that night.” He whispers against your bare shoulder before leaving a kiss behind. The imprint of his lips causes a tingle to run down your back. “Soo-ah had a three month affair before she found out she was pregnant with Bomi, and I guess with everything that went on last year I feel on edge.” He finishes, kissing up your neck slowly, his arms around your waist get tighter. His ministrations end when he gets up to your ear, “forgive me, I do trust you with everything in me I just had a lapse in judgement that night.” He whispers before kissing your cheek lightly. 

Your heart is pounding against your chest, and you finally turn to face him, lifting your hands from the water with a light splash and resting them against his cheeks. “I would never do that, especially because I know what it feels like.” You grin slightly, “Remember Seungcheol?” You raise your eyebrows a little before giggling. “I guess now I understand the whole phone call thing.” 

Jeonghan smirks sheepishly, “Maybe I was getting some sort of revenge from it, but you know you liked it otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He says smugly, before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. He doesn’t deepen it and pulls away quickly resting his forehead against yours. “I mean it though, I do trust you and I’m sorry for acting the way I did.” 

You smile, rubbing soothing wet circles against his cheeks with your thumbs. “I know. I didn’t doubt it for a second, and you’ve been forgiven.” 

“Ah, that makes me feel so much better, I was ready to incite plan b to earn your forgiveness again.” He says smugly before leaning back in the tub and taking you with him. His fingers play with the water before he places his hand against your stomach, drumming them gently. 

“What was plan b?” You relax further under his touch.  

He chuckles, his chest rising underneath you. “A massage and a really good night under the sheets.” He whispers against your ear and lightly nibbles against your earlobe. 

“You’re restless,” You giggle. Then you take his hand from your stomach and drag it up your body. “Can I take you up on that massage?” You place it over your breast. He shudders behind you before slowly kneading it, his lips find the sweet spot against your neck, making you moan. 

“As you know I am very skilled with my hands.” He whispers against your neck, as his other hand makes its way down your navel. It’s tight in the tub but he somehow manages to part your legs a little more and places his hand on you. He cups your cunt gently before placing his index finger against your clit and rubbing slow circles. 

You throw your head back lightly, coming into contact with his chest. “Yeah I know.” Your breathing becomes labored as he continues playing with you. It’s silent except for the sound of the sloshing water and your panting. The pleasure increases slowly, and it only gets better when he pinches your nipple before inserting a finger inside of your cunt. His fingers were magical. They were uneven but the right size to give you a stretch and prepare you for his cock. It was one of your favorite acts of foreplay with him. 

“You look so pretty unraveling like this under my hands.” He whispers, giving your temple a kiss, then your cheek and finally your lips. The kiss is mind shattering, deep, and full of passion. You moan against your lips when his finger finds the sweet mushy soft spot inside of you, and you find yourself slowly bucking your hips against his hand. 

Jeonghan chuckles against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he increases his pace. “Let me add another one?” He says breathlessly and you know this is pleasuring him too. You whimper in response, nodding your head and he adds another finger, increasing the stretch and pleasure. 

He kisses down your neck before swirling his tongue over your nipple and taking it in his mouth. He sucks gently, while moving his fingers faster. You’re moaning loudly now, letting go and losing yourself to his touch. He pulls away when you clench around his fingers and reaches his other hand down rubbing quick circles over your clit. 

“How do you feel?” He pants, moving faster. “You’re close aren’t you?” He smirks, scissoring his fingers and applying a little more pleasure on your clit. “Why don’t you cum for me baby doll, ride my fingers.”

You gasp, at his words. He’s rarely one to engage in dirty talk, but he knows it does something to you. “I feel so good Jeonghan,” Your mouth goes agape as you feel your orgasm approaching. “Your fingers feel so good inside of me.” You say, moving your hips in tandem with his fingers. After a few more trusts, the coil in the pit of your stomach bursts and you cum hard around his fingers, 

He helps you ride out your orgasm before you fall limply against his chest. He chuckles and kisses your head. “Let’s get out, I want to make you cum more.” He whispers, against your head. Such a tender gesture followed by the dirtiest words you’ve ever heard him mutter. 

But Jeonghan has always been a jack of all trades, and you suppose this is a new side of him. The one that begs to claim what is his. 

You can’t begin to form any words at the moment so you simply nod your head. 

After making out a couple more times in the lukewarm water of the bath, and you finally gaining your composure again. Jeonghan helps you out of the tub. You catch a glimpse of his hardening length and you feel your pussy get wet all over again. He quickly grabs a towel and helps you dry off, before doing the same with himself. You can tell he is impatient, especially when he tosses his towel to the side and quickly grabs your hand leading you into the bedroom. 

His bedroom, his sanctuary was another one of your favorite rooms in his house. Everything about it screamed Yoon Jeonghan. From the light blue duvet, and the four cream colored pillows. To the cute pictures of Bomi on his dark mahogany bedside table. Along with the recently added one of the the three of you together taken at a random self-shot photo studio a few Sundays ago when the three of you went out for lunch. You didn't know that he had the picture framed until you stayed over a week later. The sight of the picture brought tears to your eyes and you didn’t let the two of them go for the rest of the night. Even Bomi, who was a newly six-year old slept with the two of you, because for the first time in years you felt like you deserved small pockets of happinesses. And your family was the first pocket you let yourself have. 

On the right side next to the floor to ceiling window there was a desk, with a few sticky notes, and a PC you knew he used to game with his friends Wonwoo, Dokyeom, and Joshua. You’ve only met one of the three, but you knew he talked about you and Bomi to the point that they would mute him during games. 

Next to the desk was a large bookshelf that adorned more pictures of him and Bomi. One picture of you that he had sneakily taken when the two of you went on a picnic date last spring, and a picture of his parents and sister. Additionally he had displayed all the legos he had built, which at some point you knew his lego building obsession got a little out of hand. You still remember the day in which you had helped him with some spring cleaning and he fought tooth and nail to keep all thirty of them. In the end, after long hours of compromising. He decided to keep the ten he loved most and gave away the rest to his cousins Dino and Jun. 

Now, they were all scattered as display pieces around the house. Everything about his house screamed him, and a little part of you dreaded the day you would move in and finally combine both of your lives. 

The small things like your forgotten scarves on his desk chair, or the leftover clothes you kept in his house didn’t really count. You wonder if he would find places for your most prized possessions or if he will make you get rid of them. You wonder if he will open more than just one drawer for you on his dresser. He had already given you one, where you kept extra undergarments. And your favorite perfume bottle already found a home next to his cologne. But sometimes it was pointless things like these that kept you from wanting to fully indulge. 

You didn’t want to fully lose yourself to love, and you didn’t want him to fully lose himself either. Though, the two of you have done a good job at keeping little percentages of yourselves from the other. It still made you wonder if things would change after saying your vows at the altar. 

You felt Jeonghan’s arms circle around your waist, planting featherlike kisses against your shoulder. “You’re thinking too much, what is it?” He whispers against your skin. 

This is what scared you the most. The fact that he could read you so easily. With a sigh, you place your hands over his. “Why do you want to marry me?” You whisper, turning over in his arms.

He lets a small grin adorn his face before opening his mouth. “That’s a stupid question, why wouldn’t I want to marry you?” He kisses you lightly before leading you to the bed. He pushes you down gently and kneels over you. “I have a plethora of answers for that question, but I’ll give you three.” He begins to kiss down your body. “One, you make me feel seen.” He smirks as he brings his lips over your breasts, one hand comes up the side of your body and he begins to swirl his thumb over your damp nipple, before he swirls his tongue over the other one. “Two, you love Bomi like she is your own.” He sucks your nipple gently once before making his way down your body with his lips, he kisses your mound gently. “Three, you love me, and you have already continued to love me through thick and thin. Others would have left the second things got complicated but you didn't. You stayed by my side and even helped me get help professionally, and I can’t thank you enough for that, except the only way I know how and that is loving you for the rest of my life.” He says, his eyes burning into yours. They’re filled with passion, love, and desire. 

You tear up slightly, and he chuckles hovering his body over yours again, his thumb brushes the stray tear away from your cheek. He kisses your lips gently, and like second nature you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. He pulls away slightly and whispers against your lips. “Now let me love you the only other way I know how.” He says as his knee separates your legs, giving him enough room to settle himself between your legs. 

“Yoon Jeonghan, I will love you forever.” You smile, brushing his hair away from his forehead. He smirks, bringing two fingers over to your lips. You open your mouth, maintaining eye contact and you see the lust filling his eyes when you suck on them. He pulls away and brings his wet fingers down to your pussy, rubbing the wetness over it, before reaching for his cock. He rubs his cockhead with your arousal and then guides it to your entrance. 

“Do I need lube?” He whispers before inserting himself, and you shake your head. Between the water of the tub, the orgasm he gave you, and how wet he made you tonight there was no need for lube. But you knew how he was and he wasn’t going to do anything unless you verbally told him. 

“Not today baby.” You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing the tip of his nose. He nods, and slowly begins to guide himself deeper. The second his head is in stretching you out. Your hold around his neck gets tighter. You will never get tired of the delicious stretch, especially when he teases you and goes slowly, letting you adjust to him. 

Once he’s halfway inside of you. He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply to distract you from his movements. Once he’s fully inside of you, you gasp against his lips. “Tell me when to move?” He whispers, kissing you again this time softer than before. 

It takes you a moment, but when you feel yourself clench around him you know you’re ready. “Now, baby please move, and make me feel good.” 

“Shit, love.” He says against your lips before thrusting his hips slowly. You’re moaning and whimpering under him, digging your nails into his back while he begins to increase his pace. Suddenly, his body heat leaves you and he sits up, grabbing both of your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. 

“Scream for me baby, say my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this way.” His gaze was darker than usual. Like a new version had just been unleashed, and you can’t help but love the way he is showing you no mercy right now. 

“Fuck, yes Jeonghan. Your cock makes me feel so good.” You arch your back, digging your nails into his sheets. “Go faster.” 

“Oh my baby loves when I fuck her hard.” He groans, digging his nails into your thighs. His thrusts become frantic as he closes his eyes and leans his head back in pleasure, mumbling a few things to himself. You’re too focused on your whimpers and the sound of skin slapping to understand him. Nor do you care to know, because when he opens his eyes and gazes into your eyes, you’re melting. 

“More Jeonghan, I want to feel all of you.” You moan, bringing your hands up to your breasts and kneading them for him. 

He moans, watching you. “Keep doing that for me baby.” He grabs one of your legs and lifts it to the side, making you gasp when you feel him deeper than before. He licks two of his fingers and brings them to your clit, rubbing circles around them matching his pace. 

“You like this baby doll.” He pants, swallowing hard. 

The words escape you and all you can do is nod your head, your mouth falling agape as you begin to pant. Jeonghan chuckles, moving faster, his orgasm fast approaching, and he wants to come undone with you. 

“Jeonghan,” You arch your back, and clench around his cock a few times. “I’m really close baby.” He moans loudly, as he continues his ministrations, more frantically than before. You begin to let yourself go, consumed by delicious pleasure as you raise your hips to meet his. Fucking yourself on your cock while he continues to fuck you. 

“Come with me please.” He pleads, rubbing your clit faster as his thrusts begin to lose control. Suddenly, you're arching your back, clenching around him hard as you cum, triggering his own orgasm. You moan when you feel him cum inside of you, painting your pussy walls with his sperm. He slows down, thrusting slowly and deeper, riding both yours and his orgasm. 

After a few minutes, you breathe heavily, falling back down on the bed. Giggling when you see him watching you in awe. “What?” You smile.

Jeonghan takes you in, post orgasm glow. Your chest and cheeks are flushed, your lips are swollen and your body is glistening with sweat. He’s still inside of you, your clit is swollen, and your combined cum is seeping out through the side of his softening cock. Jeonghan decides then and there he will never get tired of this sight. “You look so beautiful like this baby.” He pulls out of you, making you whimper at the missing contact. 

He chuckles and lays down next to you, wrapping his arms around your body and tugs you closer. “Let’s stay like this for a while and then we can shower again” He mumbles against your cheek. “I love you more than anything and I can’t wait to make you mine forever.” He finishes, pushing a sweaty strand away from your face. 

You smile, satiated. “I love you, and I can’t wait to see more of jealous Jeonghan” You joke, kissing his lips lightly.

He laughs, knowing you caught on to his slightly possessive side. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back, you make me crazy.” He begins to tangle his fingers in your hair. 

You nod kissing his cheek, “Don’t worry love, this is our safe space, you can let yourself go in here” You whisper in his ear, biting his earlobe lightly, making him groan. “Plus I really liked it.” You pull away and lay your head against the pillow again. 

Jeonghan smirks and shakes his head. “Careful baby doll, or we won’t be sleeping tonight, and as much as I love the thought of making love to you until morning. I know you didn’t sleep at all during our twelve hour flight and you need to rest before our little gremlin comes home from grandmas.” He says before sitting up. 

You watch as your heart swells over his slip up. Did he really mean it? That Bomi was yours as much as she was his. You shake the worrisome thought out of your head. This is a conversation you’ve already had. You know he sees you as Bomi’s mother and you know the way Bomi sees you. Especially when as of recently it’s been ‘mommy this’, ‘mommy that’, ‘mommy, daddy says I can’t have ice cream before bed’, and ‘mommy I love you.’ The latter always tugs at your heartstrings and every time you hear it your love for the little girl grows. 

Jeonghan extends his hand for you to take. “Let’s take a shower before bed, you can start while I change the sheets.” He says, and you take his hand letting him help you up. He guides you into the bathroom and turns on the water in the shower so it begins to heat up. 

Jeonghan leans you against the shower door, pecking your lips. “Stop doubting yourself, you’re my fiance, my soon to be wife, and Bomi’s only mother.” He says tenderly, and once again its amazing how well he can read you like an open book. “Now shower, you’re tired.” He opens the shower door and guides you in, before closing the door. 

“I’ll be back.” He says and makes his way out of the bathroom. Leaving you under the warm water, falling from the waterfall shower head. Your heart is full of love and a feeling you’ve never felt before. 

Finally, accepting the fact that you belong here and that everything will be okay in the end. 

The warm sun rays filter in through Jeonghan’s wall of windows. It seems like the two of you forgot to shut the curtains last night before falling asleep. But who could blame you, the minute you stepped out of the shower and into the warmth of the bed, your eyes closed by themselves and you were out like a light. 

You open your eyes slowly, squinting your eyes due to the bright sunlight cascading the room. You sit up rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with your left hand, when suddenly you stop. Feeling a small scratch against your eyelid. Now, a wave of curiosity consumes you, and sleep is forgotten the second you look down at your hand. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, as you take in the most beautiful diamond ring, the band is gold and in the shape of a laurel crown. It connects in the middle to a teardrop diamond and your mouth opens in shock. Then you look to the side and your fiance is nowhere to be found. So, you yell loudly, jumping up on the bed as you hold your hand in front of you. 

“What the fuck Yoon Jeonghan, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You jump up and down on the bed. 

Suddenly you hear a pan drop in the kitchen, before hasty footsteps make their way into the bedroom and you see a frazzled Jeonghan burst through the door. The door slams into the wall rattling the dresser with how much force he opened it. 

“What happened, are you okay?” He says, walking fast to your now kneeling form on the bed. He takes your faces in his hands, and he immediately becomes worried when he sees the tears running down your face. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You whisper, sniffling. “How could you do this to me?” You whisper.

Now, Jeonghan’s worry increases as he starts to rattle his brain, trying to find the reason for your actions and your words. “W-What did I do? Tell me what I did so I can fix it.” 

You giggle, and raise your left hand to his face. “This,” He lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relax, and a sly smirk appears on his face. 

“You weren’t supposed to see it until I woke you up with breakfast in bed, but you beat me to it.” He says and takes your hand, kissing your ring finger gently. “Surprise.” He adds nonchalantly. And you’ve never wanted to slap him and kiss him simultaneously so much.

You shake your head, and pout. “That’s all.” You scoff in disbelief, “Surprise,” You mock roll your eyes. 

He laughs before taking both of your hands saying your name in such a gentle manner it makes your knees feel weak. So, you look up at him as he tangles his fingers with yours. His gaze is soft, and he kisses both of your palms. “Will you marry me? And this time I promise not to drop your ring down the drain again.” 

You laugh, hugging him tightly, peppering the side of his head with so many kisses you begin to lose count.

 “Yes, a million times yes, and if you lose my ring again, I’ll continue to say yes.” 

a/n: done :) I hope you enjoy it again let me know your thoughts. Life in Korea has been great lately, I recently started pole dancing and damn that shits hard. Anyway, maybe I'll do a little update posts on my life haha.

Again, thank you for reading I love you all.xx

[dinogoofymutated]

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

[slut4sugu]

Dear diary, my boyfriend is such a hot meanie!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ I swear it's like teasing me is just second nature! Everything he does is like a planned out attack just to get me to fold. I hate to say I'm so weak for him..

including: non!mc reader, bimbo!black reader, Sylus being a tease, fingering through clothes, didn’t rlly proof read srry lol ( I’m tired from watching Hamilton for the 10th time)

MDNI!!

"Babyyy cmon, you've been reading that book for hours!" You whined, dramatically letting your head fall on sylus's shoulder, purposefully tucking yourself into his side. Pink frenchies scratching his bicep slightly as you wrapped an arm around his, your boobs pressing up against it deliciously. The pink frills & sexy lace of your bra becoming visible from your low tank top. The same bra you had made the mistake of teasing sylus with on a Sunday night, leaving you 30 minutes late in the morning for work.

Taking note of your bratty efforts, sylus merely lets out an airy chuckle, "oh now you want my attention? didn't seem that way when you were too occupied with shopping 3 hours ago." Your bottom gloss coated lip jutted out as you looked up at him with your pleading chestnut eyes. "Cmonnn sy, please you know I wanted those heels for months! I’m sorryy. I miss you." Your voice saccharinely sweet as sylus's gaze finally tore away from his book and captured yours.

Suddenly your whines and complaints fell short on your tongue, his gaze piercingly devilish as the air between you two grew laced with desire. Your heartbeat quickened as he leaned down, his breath a warm whisper against your ear, tracing a path down your neck that sent shivers dancing across your brown skin.

"Then sit and wait," he murmured, his voice low and husky, the words brushing against your ear like a caress. A thrill, sharp and sweet, shot through you. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, a hint of playful challenge in his eyes. "Unless," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "my love needs to be reminded on what happens to whiny girls who can’t wait their turn.”

Your thighs instinctively pressed together, he knew what he was doing to you! Okay, yes you had neglected Sylus briefly for some cute pink platform heels but they were limited edition! Though now, under his heavy gaze you were surely paying the price. In doing the one thing he know you can't stand. Waiting.

Your panties grew more soaked with your slick as minutes ticked by, the occasional rub of his hand on your thigh trailing too high up would leave you biting your lip trying to busy yourself on your phone. It seemingly worked for ten minutes, until his fingers pushed your loose shorts to the side and began to rub up and down your slit. Causing your phone to nearly fall on the fuzzy carpet below as you quietly whimpered.

Meanie

The sudden slow rubbing sensation on your clothed cunt was more than unfair. especially since Sylus knew what a slut you were for his hands on you. Making out with his fingers stuffed in your cunny, eating you out and scissoring them into your hole..it was so hot.

It was even hotter knowing that he was not even sparring you a glance as his fingers slowly began to work you up. His hand sliding up to your clit sneakily whilst you mindlessly whimpered and moaned. Sylus’s hungry gaze fixated on your lewd state, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as spews of pleases and baby’s fell past your lips. The strap of your tank top falling off your shoulder..you looked divine.

“Still have some complaints sweetie?” You shook your head, dropping your phone somewhere on the leather couch as you bucked and shivered into his hand. “That’s what I thought.”

[juniperskye]

Turn to Stone

Based on the following ask: I'd like a Hotch x reader where reader is a professional dancer please! She gives Hotch tickets to one of the performances she's participating in. Hotch invites the rest of the team and reader gets to show off with a partner dance. I picture reader and her dance partner being like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers or Ariana Debose and David Alvarez, but if you have another pair in mind that's fine too. – Okay so I used to LOVE SYTYCD and one of my favorite contemporary duets was Melanie and Marko dancing to turn to stone. Travis Wall is an incredible choreographer!!! So that is the dance I am picturing.

Aaron Hotchner x Dancer! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 1324

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Age gap (non-specified), reader is a professional contemporary dancer, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description (she can however be lifted and participate in a contemporary dance routine), established relationship with Hotch, use of pet names let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Okay, I have your ticket at will-call, you’re gonna be there right?” You questioned nervously.

“Yes sweetheart I will be there. I have made sure consultations have been sent out and I put in a request to be off tomorrow evening. There shouldn’t be any issues.” Aaron reassured you.

“Okay! Sorry, I’m just nervous. It is a big performance, and I really want you to be there.” You rushed.

“I know, you’ve been working so hard honey, and I wouldn’t miss it.” He confirmed.

You hadn’t told Aaron that you’d actually been chosen for a partner dance with one of the guys in your company. He and you were often partnered up, even within group numbers…and that was mainly because Marko and you had incredible chemistry on stage. The two of you were able to anticipate one another’s movements without words.

You’d been rehearsing every day for weeks, the group routines and your partner routine, practicing again and again until the movements became second nature. Part of the reason you’d put so much pressure on yourself was because your partner dance would be the closing number of the entire performance.

 --

What you didn’t know was that Aaron had also been keeping a secret from you.

He’d gone ahead and invited his whole team to see your dance performance. He’d mentioned to them that it had been coming up and he expressed how proud he was and how hard you’d worked, and that led to Garcia asking if they could tag along. Who was he to say no? This was an opportunity for them to see how amazing you were.

Aaron had seen you on the stage a few times before and every time you managed to take his breath away. He was always in awe of how effortless you made your movements look and it was just incredible to see you following your dreams and expressing them so passionately. You inspired him, and he wanted to share that…to show you off to his team.

--

As the day came and went, your nerves and excitement only grew. This is how it was before every show…you’d feel a teeny tiny bit of anxiety, but your excitement would cloud it every time. You became a dancer because it was who you were, it was in your bones.

That night, Aaron made you a simple dinner of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. He knew you wouldn’t want to eat anything heavy the night before your performance. You ate while going over the highlights of your day…both omitting the fact that you both were currently holding a secret from the other.

When you two got into bed for the evening, Aaron gently rubbed and stretched your feet and ankles assisting you in working those muscles, keeping them loose and ready for your big show.

Aaron held you close that night, feeling almost giddy about the fact that he’d get to show you off tomorrow.

--

The next morning, Aaron got up and made you tea with honey, he knew you’d be up early to head to the studio.

“Thanks baby.” You whispered.

“Of course.” Aaron kissed you. “I will see you tonight, okay? You are going to be amazing.”

“Thank you Aar. I love you so much!” You hugged him.

“I love you too. Have a good day and break a leg!” He called before heading out the door.

You sipped your tea and packed the things you’d need for the day. You grabbed the lunch that Aaron packed for you – full of healthy snacks and your water bottle – and you left for the day.

Your company did some last-minute costume fittings, and makeup trials. Then they moved into stretches and warmups before shifting into a full-blown dress rehearsal.

The program was organized as such:

Full company contemporary

Men’s jazz

Women’s partner ballet

Elite company ballroom

Women’s Jazz

Couple’s partner salsa

Full company modern

Select company acro

Couple’s partner contemporary (aka your dance)

The dress rehearsal went perfectly, your director only making a few minor changes to ensure there was plenty of time for costume changes. The choreographers pulled a few people aside to give notes and ensure everyone was ready.

Your choreographer, Travis, pulled Marko and you to a studio to have you run your duet again, he wanted to push the both of you to really feel the emotion of the music and the movements. Travis was big on connection and chemistry in his routines, he wanted people to feel the emotion conveyed through your dancing. Once he felt satisfied with your progress he let you guys rest.

--

Aaron walked up to will-call to pick up the tickets, while he was waiting he sent you a quick text.

Hey gorgeous, you are going to be amazing. You inspire me every day with your passion, and I can’t wait to see you on that stage. I love you always. A.

“Hi, I’m picking up for Aaron Hotchner, there should be two orders.”

“Yes, I see there is a single ticket and then a set of six additional tickets.” The clerk confirmed.

“That’s correct.” Aaron nodded.

Aaron took the tickets and distributed them between the members of his team. They all then made their way into the auditorium to take their seats.

--

Aaron’s text gave you an additional wave of confidence to get you through this performance. The whole company was buzzing in anticipation.

The performances passed by in a blur. One after another, running off stage to change and adjust your hair and makeup as needed. Every time you came onto the stage, Aaron would point you out to the team. They couldn’t help but smile and giggle at him…he was just so proud, and it was an infectious feeling.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for being here tonight. We have one final performance for you tonight. So please join me in welcoming our final two dancers this evening, performing a contemporary routine, Turn to Stone, choreographed by Travis Wall.

--

When you entered the stage, made up to look like a statue, Aaron was stunned to silence. He couldn’t believe you’d been able to keep this to yourself long enough to surprise him tonight.

The piano began, signaling Marko and you to move. The two of you were in sync, moving as one, beautifully gracing the stage. The crowd roared as you progressed through your routine, Marko lifting and catching you with ease during the lifts, as the music came to crescendo.

Aaron had tears in his eyes as he watched you move. The raw emotion you and Marko emitted with every point of your toe, twirl, lift, you two were telling a story and it was touching each person that sat in the audience before you.

As the song concluded, Marko shifted in close to you and you both froze to mimic statues. Silence filled the room briefly before the crowd erupted in applause…gifting you a standing ovation.

Marko and you took a quick bow before exiting the stage. Heading back to get some of this makeup off before greeting Aaron.

--

You ran towards Aaron, leaping into his arms, squealing in delight. You were on cloud nine, the routine had gone perfectly, and you couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.

“You were incredible. That duet, honey, I-I don’t even know what to say. You were, you just. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” Aaron was at a loss for words.

“I love you too! Thank you so much for being here to support me.  I didn’t want you to miss this.” You smiled.

Aaron passed you a bouquet of flowers and gestured towards the BAU team who all stood in awe, watching the exchange between you and their boss. Shock written on their faces, seemingly from his softness regarding you.

“Guys, this is my amazing girlfriend.”

Taglist: @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife @just-moondust

[sadgirlglimmeringdarling]

I'm living for the updated version of this post.

These girls seriously need to get their own style and personality in check. Not really including Billie in this opinion because Billie doesn't come close in attempting to dress like Lana. She dresses like a 12 year old boy. Not even the music Billie makes with her brother is anything close to Lana's. Maybe the lyrics and vocal delivery is similar to Lana?

But the other singers? Like the sociopath known as "Ethel Cain" is very much guilty of copying Lana. To make matters worst, this person goes on attack mode when people compare "Ethel Cain" to Lana. When Hayden isn't attacking Lana or editing that stupid Wiki page, they are casually wishing for Presidential assassinations to make a comeback. Not to mention, also inciting violence by asking followers to 'Kill more CEO's" - so "Ethel Cain" is a really disturbed individual in my opinion. I can hear the Lana inspiration in those two songs and music videos. Good eye on your part.

Remy Bond is a real sad case of Lana 2.0. I never heard of her until you posted this months ago. I looked her up. She blatantly copies Lana with no inch of irony. She's got 55,247 followers on Spotify with 483,492 monthly listeners. She is not doing bad at all with this Lana wannabe shtick she's been pulling. She has a very similar background to Lana in which she was born into wealth. She made an appearance on Master Chef Junior. There's actual video of that. Her parents allegedly got her on the cover of Harpers Bazaar Vietnam in 2023 when she was even less known then now. Her "music career" literally started in 2023! How even?!

There's alleged suspicions that Remy bought followers on IG. As of today, she has 190,000 followers on IG. To have that many followers with such little follower interactive activity (likes, comments) is very suspicious. She also suspiciously turned off the ability to see the 'like' and 'comments' tally count on her posts. You still can find a way to see the amount of 'likes' and 'comments' - by clicking certain links. It's understandable why she wants to hid the tally's. The count is too low for somebody with 190k followers.

Her YouTube channel only has 15k followers. Working with Francis O'Sullivan (BeautySpock on IG) helped her with some exposure. Francis is not cheap to hire to direct your music videos and for someone who's unknown for the most part and just started her music career in 2023? You know her parents are rich.

So yeah, in my opinion, Remy is a phony and completely manufactured with the alleged wealth she has. She has no unique personality to call her own. Mom and dad allegedly paid for everything. She wants to be Lana, so her parents allegedly pays for Remy to be Lana version 2.0.

Lana's dad helped her too but at least Lana was original and unique in her own lane. Jesse Jo Stark comes from money as well and she too has her own original unique style.

Saint Avangeline didn't even try to hide it.

Camilla copying Lana's monologue style in her music video. I would have said "what the hell" too if I was Lana.

Holly Macve is lucky Lana tolerates her and did a song with her.

Nessa Barrett. I won't even get into her. She's another one who shamelessly copies Lana. The music videos. The song titles. Gag.

I never heard of Ocean LeClaire. Looked up her IG and Spotify. She barely has listeners or IG followers, so kudos to her for not buying followers I guess. However, her music video "Montreal" uses the same videos clips Lana has used over the years as Lizzy Grant.

Jesus Christ.

Artists who blatantly copy Lana Del Rey with no originality.

1 - Remy Bond.

Remy blatantly copying Lizzy Grant.

Remy coping Lana in concert too.

Lanaboards destroyed her in their thread.

2 -Saint Avangeline.

Some songs she's done covering Lana: Every Man Gets His Wish, Brooklyn Baby, Young and Beautiful, High By The Beach and Shades of Cool. She's done her own "original" songs but they also sound like Lana. Songs like Lilith is a complete copy of Lana's song Ultraviolence. Her album Gardener of Eden sounds like anything from Ultraviolence or Honeymoon. Saint Evangeline nowadays is doing heavy metal music. She's erased anything Lana related off her Instagram and Youtube playlists, but some of her Lana covers have remained on Youtube.

Places like Reddit have brought up Saint Evangeline's blatantly coping Lana. They brought it up Twice.

3 - Nessa Barrett

American Jesus. Heartbreak in the Hamptons. God's Favorite.

Lana brought her up on stage once, angering Lana's fanbase. At least Lana is aware of her. So did Reddit. Twice.

4 - Ocean Leclaire.

This artist has morphed into Lana over time. She started as a folky Florence Welch but now is doing more 'Lana' in sound and look. An obvious Lana fan too.

Notable Mentions:

Camilla Cabello.

An entire monolugue music video in the style of Lana Del Rey. When Lana saw the video her reaction was "what the hell."

Taylor Swift.

Taylor not only copied the monologue style like Lana, but she hired Lana's ex-boyfriend Reeve Carney to play her boyfriend.

Holly Macve.

Lana is actually a fan of Holly's. Lana and Holly sang together for Holly's song Suburban House. Holly is not a exact copy and paste of Lana Del Rey as the other girlies I mentioned, but she's obviously inspired by Lana.

Ethel Cain.

All you need to do is listen to Crush or American Teenager to hear Lana Del Rey's influence. The music videos were shot in a 90's amateurish way like Lana use to create her videos. The tone of the songs and imagery is reminiscent to Born To Die and Ultraviolence.

Fans were able to connect the dots and see that Ethel was greatly inspired by Lana. The press caught on too. Ethel didn't like that and began to edit her Wikipedia page as 'papermassacred' by removing any mention of Lana Del Rey in her Wikipedia page. Ethel went even further saying this about Lana during an interview:

Lana fans were pissed off when Ethel said this and I'm sure it got to Lana too. It's rumored that Lana wrote a diss track called 'All About Ethel' that hasn't been released yet.

Billie Eilish

Billie is only mentioned here for her immense admiration, influence and respect for Lana Del Rey. She is inspired by Lana but she is her own person. She's not putting bows in her hair, wearing a bouffant, dressing like Lana or directly copying Lana's songs or music videos. Lana invited Billie to her Coachella stage to sing Ocean Eyes and Video Games.

[sockswithsog]

“Just once”

So I’ve like never made a tumblr post let alone written smut before so if this is bad don’t tell me 🙂‍↔️

[edit: fine I’ll finish it]

You wouldn’t have been so okay with this if you intended on the emotions that came along with it. It had been weeks, no, months since you’ve felt any physical contact from any person besides the friendly tap or like shoulder nudge. And you had expected that but JESUS you did NOT expect your labido to be so strong. Being your age and in a job so ‘complicated’ you usually felt that you were able to control yourself pretty well, it’s what landed you a special position in this crew, it’s what got you out in space, now it’s what got you stuck in your room all hot and bothered tossing and turning on the stiff company provided mattress. What made it no better if the fact that you can tell that your co-worker and good friend is having the same problem.

Daisuke, you wouldn’t even attempt at denying the fact that he was attractive, and for the past week you’ve noticed that the previously subtle flirting he’d usually do has turned more desperate, his usually confident demeanor around you has sort of shifted. you were a couple months older than him but you two were by far the closest in age on the crew so his playful comments of your looks or personality came of as more playful than anything, so until now nothing was out of the ordinary. Your position felt like more of a budget cut but the excuse you were given was that they’d appreciate your extra hand, when you found out your long time acquaintance Daisuke would be taking an intern position on the job you appreciated at least one familiar face. Now that familiar face had met yours flushed in the past week more than once, the amount of “intimate” encounters you two have had have happened quite apparent to you. The long looks, the hesitation in his words, the flushed look on his face, something was up and you were getting impatient with this aching feeling.

You wake up, clock in, tend to your work performing little tasks in your field, time passes and you and everyone else begins to wind down, you make it to your room before you hear someone turn the corner, you see Daisuke and you were going to wave and say a quick little hello before turning back to your room but he calls for your attention.

“Hey! I was looking for you, do you have a second?”

You look at him a little strangely, though you two were considerably closer to each other than anyone else you can’t remember the last private conversation you two have had when it’s not work related.

“Yeah what’s up?”

He lets out a huff of a laugh and hesitates before speaking “it’s just a little private”

Your mind begins to wander in places you’re definitely not proud of, but realistically you realize it might just be some small request, though you would definitely make a move you’re not sure if he ever would even if he does treat you the way he does.

“Alright did you wanna like- come in?”

You gesture to your room, the only slight privacy in this massive machine, the only other options being echoey rooms and halls, even the rooms provided have paper thin walls.

You both step into your room and you let yourself plop onto your bed, it’s a bit of a fall but it makes it funner for you. You smile up at Daisuke and tap the space next to you, inviting him to sit and continue what he wanted to ask. He giggles down at you before doing the same thing you did, causing you to bounce a little closer to where he sank down into your mattress. You both giggle a little before you turn to him expectantly and when he realizes what you were expecting he became nervous and hesitant again. His eyes became darting and he started laughing awkwardly before stuttering out the first half of his explanation.

“So, I- Uh- I’ve been having a hard time, um, focusing I guess, I just… I’ve been having… needs?”

So much for some small request you think, you shift where you’re sitting, clenching your thighs a little, finding something to do with your hands that doesn’t put them too close to your crotch. You listen to him because you’re interested now, and you feel the same, but also because you didn’t expect this from him. The blush on his face, how quiet he is, he’s acting very different from the silly guy you’ve been friends with for the past months, but you kinda like it. He continues,

“I don’t mean to sound like a perv and you can totally say no and we can forget I ever asked but I thought it would be worth a shot-”

He’s speaking too fast for his own good now but it’s so cute, he’s thinking a mile a minute and you can tell.

“Please, I just want you to consider it we don’t even have to do anything now and I would do all the work I just really need- our id really love to be umm intimate? With you?”

Now you’re just looking at him, he was definitely brave for asking you just had no clue what to say, he took that for you not being convinced enough.

“Please we don’t even have to go all the way I can just eat you out or we can only do hand stuff you’re just so sexy and it’s been hard to focus on work when you’re all I can think about, please I can just make you feel good-“

You jump on him, your mouth smashing into his stopped him from begging any longer,

“Just once.”

he looked pretty doing it but you had better ideas, and apparently so did he. His hands started moving onto your hips grabbing you and adjusting you on top of him slotting your legs between each others while he lightly squeezed your hips. One of his hands moved up to your chest to feel more of your body, he was kissing you like you were the only woman he’s ever seen and he was gripping you with his hands like he couldn’t afford to let you go. He pulled away and he looked so amazing his face was hot and his breath was heavy, he was looking at you with his eyes mostly trained to your lips. You continue to scan his face before you make eye contact with each other and he gives you a little smile before switching positions with you, laying you down. His fingers dance at the hem of your shirt, he kiss you in the eyes.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

He pulled your shirt up just over your bra so he can get a good first look, he spends a good minute running his hands up and down your hips and squeezing where he wants before he lowers his head to kiss between your tits. He moved to the left, kissing up to your nipple before lightly taking it in his mouth, testing it, you roll your head back, letting him continue so he does. After a while he moves over to your right, showing it the same amount of attention, and when he’s done he slowly starts to move down, cherishing every second of bliss you allow him. He

Reaches your light happy trail and traces it with his tongue, you couldn’t tell if this was passion of skill but he was doing amazing, his hot breathe left shivers on your body, letting the parts of you he’d left behind long for his touch again.

He looks up to you while fiddling with the button of your pants

“Can i?”

You nod, and he immediately unbuttons your pants, sitting up to yank them off you only to realize he needs to tone down the enthusiasm, but you thought it was cute. As soon as your pants are off and moves back down to the edge of your panties, inhaling your scent through the fabric. He decided it wasn’t enough, he moved his nose closer, his hot breath hitting you in the most sensitive way causing you to let out a sigh, careful not to be too loud.

“Please…” you needed more.

And he gave it to you, he yanked your panties off just to return just as close, breathing you in, getting ready to enjoy your taste. You can only hum in anticipation before he plunges into you, letting his tongue lead his actions. Uncoordinated and sloppy, he’s less focused on technique and more focused on how fucking good you taste. It made him regret wasting his time on sweetener packets. After his first initial taste he settled into a rhythm, one he noticed made you grip the cheap sheets tighter. You began to lose focus on staying quiet and Daisuke noticed, he grabbed your hand and moved it to his hair, letting you guide him where you needed him, making you slightly louder. You grew closer and closer until you reached your breaking point, you hold his head still to make sure he didn’t stop, helping you ride through the amazing orgasm he just gave you. Soon after you let go of his head, letting him pull back and away, only then do you notice his right hand retreating from his length, he’d also finished while pleasing you. He shifts on top of you still holding it, he uses his non-dominant hand to lightly trace your folds before using one to press into you until he’s knuckles deep, after a little bit of that he starts using two. You can’t handle it. You need more.

“Please..”

“Yes?” He asks, he couldn’t help but look up to admire the look on your face when you ask him to please you.

“I need more.”

He already knew that, he’d been waiting longer than you can imagine for this. After you ask him he aligns himself and runs the tip up and down your pussy, teasing you, he wanted to see what you’d you. He’d continued teasing for a second before you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him closer. He giggles at your desperate behavior.

He lines up and slowly presses in,

“H-holy shit..”

He leans down after bottoming out wrapping his arms around you as he does stabling himself. He’s almost whimpering while he tries to remain still,

“You feel go fucking good.. this is better than I’ve ever imagined”

The last part got a little quiet, like he was still embarrassed to say it out loud. You moaned after he said it, the just the way his voice sounded and the way he felt inside you, just the sensation. It was… to die for.

“Please don’t stop…” you don’t even realize what you ask till after you do. Daisuke takes that as the okay to move and he wastes no time being slow. He leans down to your ear.

“I won’t.” It sounded like a promise.

You moan at the feeling, he adjusts to hit the most sensitive part of you, making your legs clench around him and you head rolls back, he takes this chance to kiss your neck. He starts sucking a bit high on your neck you notice, but you don’t care, if your co-workers can’t already hear this they’re bound to find out some other way.

He gets restless with the position, maybe he felt like he wasn’t deep enough, he grabbed both your legs, binding them in just one of his arms and over his shoulder, going deeper into you than you thought possible, and your glad he’s the one to show you. As he moves in and out of you he turns his head to kiss up and down your leg, before spreading them to reach your other leg, kissing up your calf to your heal, before letting both legs rest on his shoulders. His hands resume squeezing into your thighs as he uses them to bring up to meet his thrusts. You love how it feels like your being treated like a slut, but he’s so attentive. Having only had sex once or twice before this you’d never experience this desperate feeling of desire, it felt completely different and you liked it. Loved it even, loving the way Daisuke had you wrapped around his finger right now, you wondered if making you feel this good was always his intention, that made you love it so much more. He’s writhing above you, groaning at the feeling of you pulling him back in the second he pulls out, he’s never felt this good before, he’s never really gotten this far with anyone. Knowing that he can make you feel so good suddenly boosts his ego majorly, inspiring him to do better, go faster. So he does, and as he does he moves one of his hands from your thigh to your clit, beginning to lightly trace circles around it and above it to avoid overstimulating you. After a while both his hands are playing with you, on your chest and continuing the circles he’s doing, pushing you closer the beautiful edge Daisuke has been influencing you to.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he huffs out, and it makes you look at him, you’d been more focused on how you were feeling rather than how you looked, you were a little embarrassed about how silly you must look, before he starts kissing all over your face, you forget it, he seems to like it.

You grab his face and kiss him more, just as passionately, he moans in your mouth and speeds up. Making your moans fall into his, and it encourages him to continue. You can feel the end coming close you and grip him tighter. You pull away from the kiss to breathe but keep him close, he pulls back letting your legs fall off his shoulders so he can wrap his arms around your waist letting his head fall on your chest, using the grip on your sides to keep relentlessly pounding into you.

“Daii-“ you can’t finish what you were saying before you fall into another earth shattering orgasm, causing you to tighten around Daisuke. You both are making the most pathetic noises as you both finish, you remember his noises, you’d be using it later.

“Was.. was that okay?” He said breathlessly collapsing next to you.

“Oh god more than okay” you giggle, catching youre breath as well.

“Heh.. I’m glad, can we do this again then?” He sounds excited, going back to the cute playful Daisuke you love,

“Maybe one more time.”

OKAY I FINISHED IT, i just added more sex bc that’s what I wanted. I hope you like it, and I lied ig please lmk what u think 😩

[abcwordsurge]

hey so I made this little thing. feel free to use for. whatever

explanations and examples under the cut

wearing each other's merch is just. one of my favorite things. whether by coercion or choice, it's funny and sweet. to me

michigan with ohio's blanket is pretty specific, but it shows up in two of my fics (chapters 12 and 13 of "minnie's scrapbook," and my "van horn" duology), so I figured I might as well include it

everyone else knows: even when ohio and michigan are blinded by their rivalry, the rest of the states (or at least the midwest) are not oblivious to their mutual crushes!

love confessions is pretty generic- as are literal sleeping together, h/c, fluff, angst, and smut- so I'm going to skip past this

ohio and michigan mending old wounds is very special to me. I don't have much of it myself (what can I say? I'm a fluff writer), but it's great to see how others do it. @xechoecho88x is very good at this <3

historical fics are more common than usual for this duo, I think, simply because of the fandom, and the past of these two states. I myself have indulged in writing fics rooted in history a few times, especially "tell me do you hate me" and "or do you want to date me," or as I like to call them, my "van horn" duology)

bickering!! really, is it an ohio / michigan fic without some bickering? (banter might also fall into this category, if done a certain way, haha)

us writers in the wttt fandom have a specialty in repressed feelings, I think. it works particularly well for these two because this is definitely the type of relationship where denial comes first, and far be it from them to admit they care about the other

watching movies together is another one that I included because I realized that it happens strangely often in my fics. notably, "classic hallmark" and "so wrong it's right."

nicknames!! a highly debated topic by ohiogan scholars. (other highly debated topics include the infamous ohiogan vs ohiomich debate. /lh) what various names does ohio use to avoid saying "michigan"? does michigan call ohio "buckeye" or "buckeyes"? (I'm in the minority here; I think it's "buckeyes." it just rolls off the tongue better.) whatever the nicknames might be, if they're in the fic, you can mark it on the box

ofc, I would be remiss to not include The Game. this is the basis on which I ship them. every year ohio state and university of michigan fans meet up to fight to the death- or at least to the end of the fourth quarter. it's football. I'm talking about football. whether it's a scene in the fic or just the basis of their teasing, it's so much fun to read and write. go bucks!

ruining the relationship is another one that I included for @xechoecho88x. (sorry for adding you twice in the same post. I can't help it that you impacted my ohiogan heart so strongly)

there are plenty of fics inspired by music in general, but there's something special about ohiogan fics inspired by music. and I just love writing fics with song titles, ok? I have the aforementioned "van horn" duology, "(never) let you go" (title from "mary on a cross," inspired by an edit from @mittenstroll), and "so wrong it's right" (title from "to my enemies" the theme imo of these two). there's also @xechoecho88x's marvelous "singing until the end." (sorry for adding you again, echo!)

only one allowed to hurt you is me: I love the ohio and michigan rivalry, but you know what I love more? ohio and michigan being protective of each other. it just does something to me /pos

ohio has his whole thing with not saying michigan's name, so there's something special about moments when he does. I myself have used this trick many times. I just can't get over ohio saying it- whether by accident or intent- and michigan's reaction is just- cjskmslslspwl. they make me feel things

yes, I have another box about them being protective of each other. can you blame me?

aspec michigan was another one I did for @xechoecho88x. (I swear this is the last time I'll add you!) it's just. aspec michigan heals me. ohio being supportive of aspec michigan is even better

toledo war mentions, well, how could I not include this? whether it's a historical fic or they're mending the rift between them after the fact, I love when there are reminders of their past <3

go forth and enjoy ohiogan. they are so so special to me

[livin4woso]

Putting the her in football'her' (arsenal x reader)

Summary- yn is the new it girl of arsenal, and your following over shadows your playing ability. So some of the players doubt your playing skill, so you just have to prove it.

The news of your transfer to Arsenal had sent the media wild. You were a young and upcoming football with a large social following, which you gained from your time in spain.

Your rise to fame was certainly interesting at 20 years old and playing for real Madrid. Your following should not have been over 1 million, but it was. The reason you blew up one night on social media was due to an interview you had done after giving a young fan your shirt and a fan had decided to make an edit of you which went viral.

Since then, the edits began pouring in, and so did the followers, which had started to create a name around you and drew the attention for bigger clubs to look for a move. Your Instagram was the most popular of your social massing, with over 1.5 million followers. Whether or not they were there because they were a fan of football was a different question. This mass of support around you made you a high target as you would bring media to the games and increased viewership which is what the team want.

So Arsenal had no issue paying the 350k transfer fee that real madrid had set for you. The move had been a sceptical one, not for the fans they were estatic with the move but more among the team and the players. The idea that the club had paid all this money for you as a social media stunt didn't sit right with them, so they took to the two people who would have played against you the barca girls.

"So mario, what do you think about y/n? im sure you've played with her a few times?" Beth started asking with the crowd of the other girls around "she's a good player but i have only played her a few times so i don't know if she's consistently good" mariona responded truthfully because from the few times when you'd marked her in the el classico you had been rather good for a 20 year old and made quite a few key challenges.

This should have stopped the controversy among the team, but it didn't , or it wasn't until you were going to prove yourself. It was the day of your first training with the girls, and you couldn't help but feel nervous as while your english was good, it definitely wasn't fluent. You were waiting in the boot room to meet the other girls, but first, you were met with the other two spainards on the team who would hopefully make your transfer easier.

Many of the girls had created a preconceived idea of you and thought that you would be cocky and see yourself above others due to your popularity. So when meeting you was like smack to the face as you were anything but you were quiet and humble and mentioned nothing about your social media. "Hi, im y/n nice to meet you," you said to each of the girls as they moved to you in a line sort of format before training

As you walked towards the training pitches, you began talking to the lotte, which was rather comforting as she was very integrated with the team and knew all the girls. "So you excited to be joining the arsenal," lotte asked you "yeah really excited, and it's a good chance to win some trophies," you said back, smiling at her.

Training began, and you knew you had to prove yourself even if it was just a little bit. The training was based on possession from the backline, which was helpful as you were a centre back, so it meant you would be heavily involved in training. You were good on the ball and even better under pressure even with the likes of russo and caldenty running at you. After the main aim of the session was finished, you did a small sided game of 5v5.

This was your time to show your technical abilities as, at real madrid, you would be used to drive forward into the midfield to start a high press. So you got the ball and made light work of the strikers and played a ball out to mead who was the forward for your team. Mccabe, who was the other defender for your team, ran up and patted your back. "That was class, y/n keep going," she said, taking back anything negative she had previously said about you.

You had definitely proved that you were a footballer and that even though you did have a following, which definitely grew since joining Arsenal, you were a baller who definitely posed a threat to other teams. Since them you had one of the highest success rates for tackles and starting counter attacks.

Then, in the match against aston Villa, a free kick was given just outside the box, and you stepped up to take it. Which was a shock to the fans as centre backs definitely dont take free kicks however after practicing in training and the ball smashing into the top corner more than once you were given a chance to take one in the match.

You stepped a few steps back before the referee whistled to take it. You kicked the ball, wrapping your leg around, making sure to shift all your force through your hips. Everyone watched as the ball curved towards the top corner, and sabrinas finger scraped the ball. However, it went rippling into the net, and the crowd went crazy in celebration.

Your teamates jumped on top of you as you celebrated your first goal for arsenal, and in that moment, they never doubted your skill or ability as you could play football, and you played pretty damn well. Since then, you have become close friends with the team, and although sometimes you missed home, you had found another one in the comfort of arsenal.

[ominous-faechild]

⚜ INCORRECT QUOTES ⚜

Bringing back an old tag game!!!

Rule: use this generator to create “incorrect quotes” for your wip

(I feel legally obligated to post something actually about Faerie's Dawn today and I want to meme these idiots lmao)

Cloud: Tell me a little about yourself. Nova: I'd rather not, I really like this group.

Nova: I hate when people ask me, 'What did you do today?' Buddy, listen, I woke up at noon and then it was five pm, okay? I don't KNOW!

Nova: I will be using so much pink you’ll be seeing green by the end from sensory deprivation.

Sky: You're violent. Nova: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Nova: Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat? Sky: I don’t usually eat with losers. Nova: Neither do I but I asked you, didn’t I?

Nova: Branch, you’re in charge! Sky: Branch, can we start a fire?

[while waiting outside the principal’s office] Nova: What are you in for? Cloud: Oh, they just want to know if it’s cool if I miss my classes tomorrow to run sound and lights for a presentation in the auditorium. What about you? Nova: I stabbed a kid with a screwdriver. Cloud: Cloud: Cloud: We live very different lives. Nova: Yes, we do.

Branch: Be careful about succumbing to these sorts of destructive... urges. Addiction can be a powerful thing. Nova: So am I. Bow down before your new supreme overlord, bitches.

Nova: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times. Branch: I hope you understand how food poisoning works. Nova: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I've never met a burger I couldn’t eat.

Nova: Branch's amazing at concentrating. Once he starts reading, the only way he’ll notice you is if you take his book away. Not even if you hit him or shake him! Sky: That was him ignoring you.

Sky, at Nova's funeral: I need a moment with them. Everyone else at the funeral: Of course. [leaves] Sky, leaning over Nova's coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead. Nova, sitting up in the coffin: Yeah, no shit.

Sky: I hope you have an explanation for this. Cloud: We have three, actually! Nova: Pick your favorite.

Cloud: I bet you’re wondering why I gathered you here today. It’s because we need to have a discussion about how some people in this room aren’t getting along with other people in this room. Sky: Why did you say that so vaguely? Nova and I are literally the only people you called in here.

Sky: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

Sky: [trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark] Sky: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?" Associate: Well, I- Sky: How about "You banged my mom?" Associate: No... Sky: You know what, I'll just get a blank one. Sky: [writes] You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

Cloud: You gave me up, you let me down, you turned around, and deserted me. Sky: But did I make you cry? Cloud: [cries on the spot] Sky: ... shit.

Sky: We wouldn’t last two minutes without Nova. Sky: Sky: Don’t tell them I said that.

Cloud: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Cloud: Core-ean! Sky: The center of the earth is around 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there, so they don’t need a language! Cloud: Core-ean.

Cloud: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Sky: [sipping his drink after accidentally adding salt] I just like the way it tastes.

Branch: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay, right?" and watch the look of terror on their face. Sky: Sky: I like you.

Shade: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Sky: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

Shade: We have a problem. Branch: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Shade: What the fuck. Shade: ESPN is showing 2003 national jump rope championship. Shade: Who the hell watches jump rope competiti- ooh bouncy!

Shade: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel. Cloud: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel! Branch: A realist sees a freight train. Sky: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

Achilles: We’ll find another route, it’s not safe for amateur adventurers. Nova: That sounds like a challenge. Achilles: I have to stress, that is not a challenge. Nova: ... Is exactly what you say to dissuade the weak of heart from accepting the challenge. Well, challenge accepted! Achilles: There is no challenge!

Achilles: Okay, how do I look? Be honest. Cloud: There’s no critic more honest than Sky! Sky: Bad.

Achilles: We all have our demons. Achilles, grabbing Shade: This one’s mine.

Eve: Asa, don’t go picking a fight with Ailwyn. Don’t forget, they’re powerful, they could make life difficult for you. Asa: Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life.

Asa: Quitting! It's like trying, but easier!

Asa: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

Asa: [walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone] Eve: Hey, Asa, how was your day? Asa: [picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Nova] Hell. Eve, watching this unfold: (whispers) Who hurt you?

Eve: What's worse than a heartbreak? Shade: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Branch: Waking up in the morning. Asa: Waking up.

Shade: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?? Cloud: Y-you were putting it in cold water?? Sky: Shade. Answer the question, Shade. Shade: Yeah??? I thought people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. didn't realize there was an actual reason. Shade: Plus you think I have the patience to boil water? Cloud: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes?? Sky: Why are you putting it in the microwave to boil it? Cloud: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? Sky: It takes less than a minute. Cloud: Is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun??? Sky: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? Cloud: Like seven minutes?? Nova: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like 2 minutes... less than that if you use a saucepan! Sky: Why are you putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Nova? Your stove is enchanted! Shade: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. Branch: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?!

[during a group project] Branch: [does 99% of the work] Cloud: [has no idea what’s going on] Nova: [says they’re gonna help but does not] Sky: [disappears at the very beginning and doesn’t show up again until the very end]

Just a silly thing I felt like I had to make lol.

Ik you guys don't know half of these characters lol. But it's fun foreshadowing for later... and still funny 😉

(Idk should I @ the whole Faerie's Dawn list? I'mma just @ my "everything" taglist and anyone I know who's really into FD lol)

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @teamarine777 @caffeinated-starsailor @oliolioxenfreewrites

@corinneglass

[optimisticgrey]

"It has always been you"

Chapter 1: You don't have to do this.

I just collected all the tropes I could think off, threw them in a bucket and gave it a good stir.

Here we are.

We'll have a lot of self-loathing and angst, fluff, romance and the complex topic of polyamory explained to our favourite Professor which will add some drama. Of course, there will be smut. In this case, heavy BDSM stuff. You have been warned but I will add chapter notes.

Yes, they will fall in love but I am trying to do this excruciatingly slow.

This is the most cliché trope heavy shit I have written in my life and I love it.

I decided to post it now before I once again fall into the rabbit hole of over editing.

Basically my interpretation of @evverest "in your neighborhood for your darkest times"

Read on AO3

Pairing: Alternate Universe; Named Tav (Celeste), Professor Gale Dekarios

WC: 5331

Summary:

Alternate, modern universe setting: Gale is a college professor, deeply traumatized by his former relationship. Celeste is a marine biologist, running from her own past. They meet at an airport.

Warnings:

Will be added with the chapters

Song recommandation: Architects - Blackhole

Celeste stared at herself in the mirror. Deep bags under eyes told a story of endless travel and far too little sleep. Makeup might have been a good idea, had she packed any before leaving two years ago.

She had always liked her eyes. One blue, one light green. She thought they added a certain distinction to her features, though she’d quickly learned most people preferred symmetry: symmetrical faces, evenly coloured eyes, predictable beauty. Conventional minds. Nothing she had to offer.

Celeste reached behind her back, pulling the massive braid of black hair over her shoulder. She adjusted it gently, retying the hair tie holding it in place and readjusting some of Halsin’s silver pearls she had woven into it before looking at herself again.

Fuck, girl. Ever heard of concealer?

Her expression was as drawn as she felt. The fine scar under her right eye had nearly vanished in the past years and she had come to accept it. Mostly liked it.

A testament to all she had endured. Freckles had begun to gather around the scar, and they shifted slightly when she smiled. At least her clothes were clean. That was something. In hindsight, though, the dark green silk blouse and slim, high-waisted black pants might not have been the wisest of choices. Comfortable enough for a quick flight, sure, but not for hours of delays, long lines, and shuffling between uncomfortable airport chairs. She should have known better. At least she did not wear high heels.

Still, she couldn’t deny that the outfit gave her an edge. Just enough to make her look like she belonged in the first-class lounge Jen had insisted on upgrading her to. She reached for her earrings, untangling one that had locked into another, and took a final look at herself before grabbing the pill bottle on the counter. Her new favourite drug, the one that had gotten her through this assignment, was finished. Tossing the last pill into her mouth, she swallowed it dry, then slipped the empty container into the pocket of her black coat. She would not need more. Eventually, she would have to rely on coffee again but until then, she could finish some work while she waited for the storm to pass.

If her flight hadn’t been delayed, she’d be home by now, wrapped in a blanket. Scratch at her feet or in her lap, her friends buzzing around her in a room filled with laughter, love and familiarity. Instead, the flickering blue light of an airport bathroom illuminated her features. Celeste sighed, threw on her coat and grabbed her bag. Her phone rang just as she exited the bathroom on her way to the lounge.

A smile broke across her face despite the exhaustion.

“Hey, babe,” she answered lightly. “Just called to hear your voice.” Karlach’s laughter roared in her ear. So deep, it sank into her soul and made her longing for home even more. “How are you holding up?” “Checking into the lounge now,” Celeste replied, entering the longue. “I hope the coffee is decent.” “I do hope so, too. Cannot imagine you without decent coffee.” Celeste chuckled as she sat down and gestured the young woman behind the counter to get a coffee by pointing at the menu. The young woman gave her a thumbs up. “Have a safe flight. We’ll keep track and come pick you up,” Karlach added with a gentler tone. “You do not have to,” Celeste quickly objected. “The flight has already been delayed and if my gut is correct, we not taking off tonight. I’ll be staying here for another day. Go to bed, get some sleep.” “Ugh, don’t say that!” “Sorry,” Celeste grinned. “Just make sure to check the flight tracker before you leave. There is no need for us to be stuck at different airports.” “Will do, smarty pants.” “Thanks, Kalla.” “Anytime, Kell. We are all pumped to have you home soon.” Celeste hung up, moving her thumb over the display. The last picture they had taken before she fled her life was set as her wallpaper. They were all smiling so happy, her heart ached.

How on earth did she ever got so lucky? In the friendship department, she was living the dream. Close, intimate bonds with people she trusted with her life, thoughts, feelings and broken heart – or call in the middle of the night because she was alone and tired at an airport on the other side of the world and needed to be comforted. To her surprise, their friendships had only deepened in her absence. Celeste had not expected them to abandon her but she had loved their enthusiasm to include her in their lives as much as possible: frequent video calls, dedicated servers to share information and video logs of their day-to-day life. She missed them so deeply, but they had made sure she knew she was loved and still part of their lives.

She could not wait to go home and hug them all, one by one.

Celeste had not been as lucky when it came to romantic love, though. Her divorce had been finalized eight days ago. She had never thought she’d see the day to be free of this marriage. The aftermath of it all would be messier but that was a problem for the upcoming weeks and nothing she was willing to put any energy into today. For now, she’d stay with Halsin and Soren before returning to work and beginning the dreaded process of house hunting. Just thinking about it made her groan internally.

“Your coffee, miss,” the nice bartender said, moving the coffee cup over the counter. “Thank you,” Celeste smiled. She had passed the age barrier to be called “Miss” some time ago, but was no longer wearing a wedding ring.

Picking up cup and saucer, her gaze darted around the room. The longue was filled with important people – or at least people who considered themselves to be important -, mostly men dressed in suits, deep in thought hovering over laptops and newspapers. Her flight was not the only one that had been delayed. Basically, everyone was stuck here for as long as she had and people were annoyed. Thankfully, as the hour grew late, people started to quiet down or take their discussions and heated calls outside. She looked around and was able to make out one empty seat at a table.

A man occupied the other chair. Dark hair, streaked subtly with grey, was tied halfback. Semi-circular black glasses, well-groomed beard. A dark purple shirt, rolled up to the elbows, displaying well-defined arms. He had tossed his blazer over the back of the chair, pondering over a chessboard. Celeste walked over and politely cleared her throat. Again. And again. And again.

“Pardon,” she then said as friendly as she could manage. “May I sit here?” The man jolted, clearly startled. His dark brown eyes darted around, unfocused for a moment, before settling on her. He blinked, staring at her in silence before straightening and clearing his throat. She recognized the look. He had been deep in thought, far removed from the bustling lounge around him. Up close, he was even more striking. There were faint lines around his eyes, and the tiredness in them mirrored her own. His gaze, the rich brown of her favourite chocolate, flickered with the weight of a long day. And yet, he was sitting here, playing chess with himself. Come one. Behave.

“Apologies,” he murmured. “I was lost in thought. Please, sit down.” He gestured to the chair across from him and began gathering the chess pieces, his long, elegant fingers moving with practiced ease as he cleared the board. She was certain he played an instrument or worked a job that required finesse with fingers this well manicured. Celeste set her coffee down and took the seat. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, his movements slowed. “Do you play?” “I do, yes. Would you like a game?” “I’d love to.” His smile was surprisingly warm. Celeste defeated him in the first two games, though he claimed victory in the third. It were close matches, not rushed but well thought out. Each game was a dance of precision and patience, neither rushed nor careless. Like wolves circling prey, they assessed every move, rethinking strategies before committing to the board. The competition was sharp, yet devoid of hostility. More of a shared challenge they both relished. Celeste loved every second of it. He laughed appreciatively at some of her moves, and she could tell he was enjoying himself. As she did him and his laughter. He was a brilliant tactician and Celeste found herself forcing her focus to keep up with his strategies more than once. The only problem was, he was even more beautiful when he was lost in thought, threading his fingers through his hair, a small crease building between his eyebrows. He had a way of moving his fingers through the beard stubble on his cheek when he was pondering the next move that she found utterly charming. Their silence was companionable. She felt seated with an old friend rather than a stranger. Approving nods, playful smirks, and the occasional taunting glance punctuated the quiet, with soft giggles breaking through every now and then.

It was the perfect reprieve. For the first time since Celeste left Greenland nineteen hours earlier, she felt herself relax.

“Would you like another coffee?” He asked after the third game. Celeste nodded, stretching as the hours of travel and sitting began to weigh heavily on her body. “Yes. And some water, please,” she answered, rummaging in her coat looking for her wallet. “As you wish,” was all he mumbled and stood up. Celeste found her wallet and wanted to offer cash, but he had already walked to the counter. Her gaze followed him. He was surprisingly well built. With his graceful gestures, the way his hands moved the pieces with practiced ease, she had expected him to be less toned. To avert he gaze and calm her jumping ovaries, she checked her phone.

Everyone on their message group was wishing her a save and soon flight home. She marked every single message with a heart and thanked them for their support, while quickly highlighting the fact that her flight was still delayed.

“Scratch and I can’t wait!” Jen answered. It made Celeste smile. “Good news?” His voice pulled her from her thoughts, she flinched. “I apologize,” he said, his voice a little too gentle as he set a tray onto the table. Two black coffees and a water were put around the chess board while they moved their used cups onto the tray. “I did not mean to pry.” He took the tray back to the bar before he said down. “You were not prying; I was lost in thoughts.” She moved the money over the table before taking the water. He raised an eyebrow, moving the money back with the same gesture – index and middle finger pressed onto the note -, looking as if she had deeply offended him. Celeste gulped down the glass of water and was laughing, when she finished.

“Thank you,” she said, storing the money in her pocket. “It’s the least I can do. You are an excellent chess player and deeply appreciated company.” “I appreciate the compliment,” she answered warmly and he smiled. Even his smile was gorgeous. Get a grip, Celeste. “So, what brings an accomplished chess player like yourself to an airport at the edge of the world in the dead of night, if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked, moving his gaze back to the board. “I just ended a two year assignment-“ “You are military?” “I am not. I am a marine biologist and my university sent me to set up a permanent research station in Greenland. It is a cooperative project of different universities and NGOs across the globe, so…..” Her voice trailed off; she had troubling finding the right words. “An administrative nightmare,” he offered. Celeste’s eyebrow rose. “Correct, yes. You work in research?” “Thankfully that is no longer the case,” he smiled, reaching for the coffee. “But I did, a long time ago.” “How long ago might that have been? You are what? 32?” To her delight, his cheeks flushed briefly as he drank, his thumb and middle finger layered over the rim of the cup. “Quite charming, thank you. I will turn 40 at the end of the year.” “If it makes you feel more comfortable, it does not show.” He laughed warmly, making her smile. “Thank you, you are very kind.” They sat in silence for a moment, Celeste pondering the idea of asking him everything that came to her tired mind. There was no feeling of unease or restriction. It felt as if she could talk about everything with him. Instead of talking and losing herself in inappropriate questions, she chose coffee. “What is the research on?” “Pardon?” “The station you have established. What is its purpose, exactly?” “Ocean acidification and ecosystem response. Carbon absorption, effects on calcifying organism, food web distributions, these kinds of things. How climate change effects the sea level is a well-known, well researched fact. We are observing the effects it has on food chains. There are 25 researchers permanently stationed in the middle of nowhere and they will remain for at least two more years. I will supervise from home.” “A long-term commitment, indeed. I’ve never been part of such research teams myself, but it’s undeniably a noble cause. One that demands dedication and a shared vision.” “Depends on who you ask or beg for money,” she grinned and he chuckled. “What is your area of expertise?” “I am mathematician.” “A wizard,” she nodded approvingly and joined his surprised laughter before she could stop herself. “A wizard? Well, that’s a new one! I’ve been called many things in my life, but wizard was never among them.” He smiled, somewhat pleased. “One if my friends is impacted by severe dyscalculia. She considers any person who can handle abstract numbers or more than basic algebra a wizard,” Celeste chuckled into her coffee and took a sip. “I apologize.” “There is no need to, it’s a title I will wear most appreciative,” he grinned. ”Following this line of argument, I might be considered an Archwizard. You are returning home?” Celeste gestured around the longue. “As most people, I got stuck here when the storm hit. But yes,” she sighed, rubbing her cheek, “I cannot wait to get home. Sleep in a real bed that’s not a bunk bed. Have a bath with my favourite music blaring as loud as I wish. Hug my friends.” She rolled her eyes longingly. “Maybe eat food that has not been dehydrated before. You know, vegetables that actually crunch when you bite down?” Her voice trailed off again as she thought of all the things she was looking forward to before she realized he was staring at her. His arms rested on the table folded, his gaze intrigued yet somewhat gentle. As if she was a piece of art he was trying to understand. A puzzle to solve.

Flattering.

“What about you?” She asked into the stretching silence, and he flinched. Celeste regretted her words immediately. The same kind eyes that had just darted into hers now seemed somewhat fearful. She had unknowingly touched one of the most intimate topics possible. “I apologize,” she added gently but he waved it off. He let his gaze move through the room though. “I am returning home as well. I took a sabbatical after… well, let’s just say it was long overdue.” He took deep breath as if to summon the courage to look at her. As his eyes found hers again, she was certain he was assessing the level of trust he was willing to show. “My former partner left me some time ago,” he added quietly. There was gentle timbre in his voice. “I buried myself in work afterward, but it did little to improve my state of mind. It was an intense relationship—deeply so—but in hindsight, perhaps not the healthiest. I loved her profoundly, and her departure hit me harder than I’m comfortable admitting. So, I chose to do something I’d long denied myself: travel. See the world. Try to rediscover who I am outside of what I’d known.” “I am sorry this happened to you,” Celeste answered and the weak smile on his lips was genuine. She lifted her hand, displaying the line her wedding ring had left. “I understand,” she simply stated.

They both reached for their coffee cups and shared a weak smile over the rim. “How did you become such a competent chess player?” Celeste appreciated the change in topic though she suddenly missed the sincere underline of his voice. She checked her watch and reached her coat pocket to find the pill bottle empty. With a look of disbelief and shock, she stared at the bottle.

“Fuck.”

She did not need the pills that had been stored in the bottle, but she wanted one. There was no physical component to her blooming addiction, she was aware. It was not how this particular amino acid analogue worked. But she could feel exhaustion creeping into the back of her mind, slowly numbing her senses. Celeste wanted to stay awake, to be able to soak him in, attentively listen to every word he was saying, every little detail he was willing to share. She could not get tired now.

In her head, she recounted the last ones she took. She had a backup bottle, but it was in her suitcase that had already been checked. He wanted to ask but did not, she could sense it. Celeste closed her eyes and rubbed her hand over her face. “Okay, great,” she then stated, opening her eyes and slipping the bottle back. “My father thought it important for his children to be reliable tacticians,” she explained, picking up the talk where she had left it. “Chess was one of the things I was taught from a very young age. I will boldly assume you were a prodigy.” He did not even try to hide his surprise. “That is surprisingly accurate, yes. How did you know?” Celeste grinned. “There are two types of mathematicians I have met in my life and - please don’t take this the wrong way - the slightly neurodivergent kind who just have a deep understanding of math and logic in general make up for the larger part.” “And the other kind?” he smirked. “There is no other kind,” she admitted and he burst into laughter. His laugh was so warm, she felt goosebumps blooming on her arms. If she could have one sound for the rest of her life, it would be this laughter. Deep, honest, unrestrained.

Jesus fucking Christ, Celeste, get a grip.

It took him a moment to calm down. “Again, surprisingly astute, yes,” he replied with a slight smirk. “I was considered a child prodigy and have claimed many notable titles in my life. But I must admit, the thrill of a chess game never quite fades, no matter how many victories I rack up.” “No Nobel prize yet?” she teased. “There is still time.” While she set up the chess board again, he rose. “Would you like more coffee?” “You do not have to do this.” “Allow me to be a gentleman,” he mimicked a bow. Celeste sighed and suppressed a charmed grin. “Yes, please. And anything sweet, if something is left. “ They played so many matches, Celeste stopped to count. And to care. Losing against him was surprisingly easy. Not that she lost often, it was quite a close tie after all. He continued to compliment her moves and offered insights to the strategies he preferred, never condescending. She could tell he had been called that in his life, as often as he was checking in with her, asking if his insights would be appreciated. His fingers did not stop to intrigue her. The obviously experienced moves with which he touched and moved the pieces on the board and off. The conversation flowed freely now, as did the coffee. Celeste could feel the tension leaving her. Somehow, he had seemed to decide she was worth the trust. Or risk.

Don’t flatter yourself. You look halfdead.

The trust, it seemed, allowed him to open up, he talked about himself. He had travelled the world, never stood long in one place while co-authoring a paper here and there. Not because he needed to, he tried to gently move around the topic, but it became obvious quickly. Sitting across from him in a restricted first class longue had made it quite obvious but she decided not to talk finances. He enjoyed reading, fine dry wine and had a cat he deeply missed that was currently staying with his mother until he started teaching again next semester. He had made a meticulously planned timeline to return home and look for houses. Time to settle in for himself and his cat and set up his library again.

A library. Of course.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Celeste, this is an airport flirt, nothing more. He might go back to Belfast or wherever he is from and forget about you the second you turn around.

Still, she was unable to take her eyes off him. In her defence, she had spent the last 919 days with the same 25 people who she now knew more intimately than she wanted to. They had had sex on occasion, as it was common on such missions, but it had never been about romance. Just pent-up energy, a bodily need to be fulfilled. Some of her coworkers had partners at home, even spouses they were looking forward to seeing again. Despite her own history – and Celeste had to admit to herself she needed some work there – she never understood the appeal of leaving one’s love behind to follow her own ambitions. If a man like this, like him – intelligent, charming, well-read and breathtakingly beautiful – would be her partner, she would not want spent a day apart from him. She gulped at the realisation, shoving the implications down and took another sip of coffee.

Celeste phone rang. Jenevelle. “Hey.” “Hey,” Jen started before words started to spill out of her in mind-bending speed. “Youarestrandedsoilookedaroundandguesswhattherewasonehotelroomleftthatitheincrediblefriendthat-“ “Jen, Jen! Slow down, please. What is happening?” “All flight are delayed for the next 12 hours,” she sighed, clearly annoyed she need to repeat herself. Celeste chuckled despite the news. “The snow will only be getting worse. You are not going anywhere, so you might as well get cozy.” Celeste smiled warmly. It felt good to be known. “What did you do?” “I secured the last hotel room for you. It costs about what I imagine an organ on the black-market costs, and you can repay me later but I will graciously accept some praise now. Everything else is completely overbooked. The airlines were surprisingly fast, so you have to hurry.” “You are aware you are not my personal assistant, right?” Celeste blinked warmly as he set down the coffee in front of her and dropped back into the seat. “I know! But I cannot wait to have you home have been reloading that damn flight tracker every five seconds!” “I love you, too,” she smiled, noticing the man flinching slightly. “Wait…What are you doing? You sound far too relaxed.” “I am playing chess,” she grinned and their eyes met. He looked at her puzzled. “But I promise to go check in after the next match.” “You need to leave now, I ordered you a cab. They will not keep the reservation for longer than an hour. It is a fucking suite after all.” Celeste rolled her eyes. She was afraid what might happen when she left. Or wouldn’t happen. “Okay, I will leave now. Thank you.” She slipped the phone back into her pocket. He tried not to ask but his curiosity was palpable.

Continue on AO3 (I apologize, Tumblr fucked up the formatting)

[intramoon]

𝒲+𝒜 (circa 2017)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Yue Qingyuan and Tianlang Jun having tea together ☕

[Commission for @absolmon!]

[icantalk710]

Looong day of catching up on emails and work to set myself up to be (mostly) on vacation as of xmas 😩☕😵‍💫

[teganorsara]

Ali Ahn as Eidra Park and Ato Essandoh as Stuart Heyford in

THE DIPLOMAT 1.06