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sun-and-flames · 4 months ago

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A Rising Dawn - Chapter 1

Mydei x (female) Reader

Fic Rating: Mature (will change for a later chapter)

Chapter Length: 4.5k

Fic Status: Ongoing

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Learning to Trust, Sweet, Wholesome, basically no angst, no use of y/n, smut in a later chapter, set before the events of 3.0

Author's Notes: This entire fic was supposed to be a long one-shot with a lot of scenes that made it seem like a montage. It turned out much longer than anticipated, though, so I'm splitting it up. We're gonna end up with probably around 30k words altogether. Anyway, this fic is really dear to me, so I hope you'll like it <3

AO3 Link

Summary: In the Holy City, daily life remained the same for the citizens despite the threat of the Black Tide lurking beyond the city's borders.

But sometimes, a brief encounter can bring about a new dawn for its residents. Chrysos Heirs and regular citizens alike.

Even more so when the Golden Thread has tied your fates together a long time ago.

The breeze remained subtle on this early Entry Hour in the streets of Okhema, the air crisp and clean while carrying a hint of something vaguely floral as Kephale’s light flooded the streets.

Nothing truly changed. People went about their daily lives, working and striving for tomorrow, not knowing how many days there were still to come.

While Mydei appreciated the constant, the sense of peace and normality the people - his people among them - found within these streets, the lack of change, of feeling rooted in place unable to move forwards, always left a bitter taste in his mouth that not even the blessings of Phagousa could wash off.

Few duties waited for him that day. Attending Lady Tribios’s class, following up with a Kremnoan young man who had asked for his assistance some days ago, and patrol duty during Parting Hour.

He hoped during patrol he could get rid of the itch in his veins. Though, at these times, maddened Titankin were not a rarity to find in the outskirts of Okhema.

Until then, ample time to ponder and look after his detachment.

Marmoreal Market buzzed with life. The scent of fresh fruits mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread as the stalls and shops came to life and greeted the people as they began their daily lives in the city.

Even at this hour, Marmoreal Diner was crowded, people waiting in line for a seat or a special breakfast to take home with them. He spotted some Kremnoans among them and he couldn’t fault them. Kyros’s offered the best bread and olive oil in all of Okhema if one did not have the muse to make it from scratch themselves.

While Mydei didn’t favor the crowds around here, the lively atmosphere stirred something within him. He saw the smiles on people’s faces, the excitement of children frolicking about, the relief of the employee’s as they continued - that they could continue- business yet another day.

Laughter and joy.

Fun.

Rare as it was to come across during these dire times, a part of himself - hidden behind walls of duties and responsibilities and questions no one else but him should deal with and which kept him away day in and day out - longed to engage in it all the same.

He knew his place.

In this town.

For the Kremnoan people.

In the Flame-Chase Journey.

People passed him by as he crossed the street, some greeted him, some acknowledged him, others avoided him. All the same, another constant in the Holy City. It mattered not but he greeted them back with a nod, spared words only for the little children that brushed past him as they indulged in their games.

The Fruit and Veg Store invited everyone with fresh and colorful fruits displayed on plates and in bowls that made them look like a painting come alive rather than real food. One didn’t have to know their way around vegetables and fruits to recognize the quality and care Demetria, the store owner, put into her work.

The elderly lady chatted with a customer, handling the balance coins on the scale with a cheerful smile on her face.

Though the deep red and luscious pomegranates, resting in bronze-colored bowls on a long table behind Demetria caught his gaze more so than the rest of the produce or the people surrounding the store.

Until a hand appeared on one of the fruits disrupted his staring.

As he followed the hand, delicate and too small to grab the fruit with one hand, up a slender arm, he saw you.

Your face remained calm. The focus on your work simmered in your gaze, but it did not show in the curve of your brows or the line of your mouth. You placed two of the pomegranates in a little basket, where they joined an array of apples, before you put the basket on the small table next to Demetria.

You retreated into the back of the store immediately, working on arranging the fruits and vegetables with a care to avoid damaging them that looked as meticulous as devoted to your task as Mydei was used to see from Demetria. Surrounded by the shelves and tables, the crowd in Marmoreal Market didn’t reach you as you kept working, wiping your hands on your apron when the warm air around you showed itself on your skin.

Why his gaze lingered, he could not tell.

Maybe because he frequented the store so often and he’s never seen you before? A relative of the store owner? Simply a new employee? Maybe because such little changes occurred so rarely in the daily lives of Okheman’s these days that it caught a person’s eye naturally so?

Maybe because a spark in the back of his mind whispered that you seemed familiar to him, though the thought sounded odd, so Mydei dismissed it and continued on his way.

His gaze didn’t find yours nor did it linger on you again when he bought his own pomegranates and indulged the store owner in the smalltalk she so enjoyed engaging in.

———————

Mydei spotted you at the store almost regularly after that first vague encounter. You tended to the fruits and vegetables in the back of the store, focused and not paying much attention to the crowds and buzz around you. Colorful patches stained the white apron you wore over your dress. Mydei couldn’t help but think they made you look more like an artist spending your time painting and drawing but not arranging and selling fruits.

The only time you came out from the back was when you placed a customer’s order on the table by the owner’s side, only to retreat again.

A peculiar nature given you found yourself in the busiest place of all of Okhema.

When Mydei approached the store days later again, Demetria thanked him for his patronage as she usually did but spared him the smalltalk. Too many customers, too much money to make. Despite her kindness and dedication she was a business lady through and through.

He didn’t mind. The sooner his order got processed the earlier he could leave the store and avoid the gazes he drew whenever he made his way here. He crossed his arms in front of his chest while he waited.

Neither a word left your lips nor did any hesitation appear in your steps, even though he caught a flash of something - recognition? Remembrance? - cross your eyes as you threw a glimpse up at him when you approached the store’s front with a bag in your hands.

You placed the bag on the small table next to Demetria. Mydei leaned down to pick it up before you managed to pull back again. Your fingers still lingered on the bag when he grabbed it and the flash of panic on your face made him frown.

No physical contact, no skin on skin, not the metal of his gauntlets on your skin, not even fabrics brushing and yet your hands recoiled as if you got burned by the flames of Kremnos’s Soul-Forging Zone.

That terror-stricken expression faded an instant later and you tried to hide the trembling of your hands by clasping them together in front of you.

Mydei watched you with a frown on his face, gaze hard and his mouth a straight line, as you bowed slightly - an instinct to remain respectful to your customer? - and retreated back into the store as if you found safety there. Safety from him.

People being intimidated - scared - by him was not an all too rare occurrence. He was aware to be not the most approachable man, people never shook his hand in greeting, many cowered at the mere sight of him - the Kremnoan beast, a brute. Not something he cared about much, but it has been a long time since anyone has been this blatant in their display of it in front of him.

He didn’t comment on it. The paper of the bag crackled in his his grasp as he left the store and crowded area of the Holy City.

And yet, as he crossed Marmoreal Market in the Parting Hour on his way home many hours later and his eyes fell upon the closed store, he couldn’t help but wonder what your issue has been.

Prejudices still prevailed to this day and their eradication has been everything he has striven for since he and the Kremnoan detachment joined Okhema.

He tended to overthink these things a lot, he knew that.

But if anything, his time here has proven him that his concern and wariness was justified. His first months and years in this city have been plagued by preventing assassinations - on children - of his people, by witnessing discriminations in his people’s everyday lives and filing complaints and seeking audiences with the Council. While the situation has improved, notably when Lady Aglaea handled matters herself, these bad clouds lingered in the corners of the streets still.

Was that what it was for you? A prejudice? Or had it nothing to do with his heritage and origin at all?

He made a small sound in the back of his throat and averted his gaze.

Yes, he tended to overthink these things a lot.

———————

His duties and missions as a Chrysos Heir kept him away from the city for a few days but when he returned, nothing has changed.

A pleasant outcome, one would say. Given the impending catastrophe, to see the people buzzing and thriving despite the situation in the dark outside of Okhema was… relieving.

Yet, it also showed a lack of progress on this tedious and long-lasting journey. Castrum Kremnos still remained lost in the fog, Nikador’s Titankin have been driven further towards Okhema in their madness. The safety he sought for his people in this city was as fragile as glass…

Mydei’s hand clenched into a fist, though he released the tension the moment he stepped into the streets. It wasn’t his place to reveal his frustrations to the people when they deemed them the only glimmer of hope this world had left.

Marmoreal Market came into view and the scent of Golden Honeycakes and freshly cut fruits reached his nose before he even rounded the corner.

A part of him tingled, arose that desire to indulge in the joys the pancakes could provide temporarily, though he had no time for it. He needed to report his mission’s results to Aglaea and then a hot bath would do wonders for his muscles after spending so much time in the Evernight of Amphoreus.

A pomegranate in-between duties had to make due for now. It’s been a few days since he’s had one and waiting until tomorrow was not worth it just so he could prepare juice from it.

And pre-made juice didn’t scratch that craving in his soul for it.

He saw you at the store, but instead of your usual spot in the back you stood by the side of the store, a small group of kids surrounding you. All talking over each other with big eyes and smiles as if they all had to tell you they’ve seen or experienced the most amazing thing today while you were at work.

You were talking to them. He couldn’t make out any words in the chatter and laughter but your face remained calm, a gentle smile as you engaged with them. Whatever was happening this wasn’t the first time you dealt with these children.

Not a scene he expected to witness.

Yours, perhaps?

Though he didn’t deem you old enough to have children of that age yet. He paused that thought. Lady Tribios came to mind and he almost grimaced at himself.

Looking young didn’t mean a lot in Amphoreus while demigoods existed.

Mydei approached Demetria but his gaze didn’t leave those kids surrounding you. He watched how you took off your apron and placed it in a box in the back of the store, all the while not ceasing to talk to the children who not once lost an ounce of their energy and cheerfulness.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Demetria,” you said and it was the first time he heard your voice. Clear and tinged with the contagious laughter of the boys and girls eagerly waiting for you. Pleasant.

“Take care, dear,” the old lady said and she watched how you left with the kids until you vanished around the street corner. Mydei followed your form as well. Once the chatter of the children faded, Marmoreal Market seemed strangely empty.

Demetria sighed, a content smile on her lips. Mydei didn’t say a word. He knew the store owner was about to share her thoughts with him as she often did with customers anyway.

“Endearing, is it not?” she asked. “These kids pick her up from work a lot.”

“These? So not hers?” he asked before he could stop himself. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh no, no.” Demetria laughed as if Mydei had told her a joke.

“Then, who are they?” he asked. If only to satiate the owner’s need for conversation - not to quell some curiosity of his own. Undoubtedly not.

“Orphans, mostly. They almost all lost their parents to the war in one way or another.” Demetria’s smile grew smaller, weighed down with the mourning and grief of remembering the tragedies she’s no doubt experienced over the years herself. “She gives them a chance to come together and have some fun once she’s done with her wok.”

Demetria looked up at him and he met the elderly woman’s gaze. “Children should never be the ones to suffer the consequences of the adults’ actions.”

“Indeed.”

Children should not suffer. They shouldn’t have to pay the price for the failures and mistakes of their parents and adults who failed to protect them and willfully put them through pain and misery for their own selfish gains.

His jaw clenched and he found it difficult to relax. He hoped the elderly woman remained ignorant to the sudden tension in his body.

He could still recall.

The cold and might of the water, of his father and his guards blurring and then fading from view as the depths grabbed a hold of him from the neverending abyss, engulfing him, suffocating him until he drew a new breath - painful, agonizing - and started the cycle anew.

Young as he had been - an infant - yet that image stayed vivid in his mind until this day.

He closed his eyes for a moment to shake off the memory. It didn’t leave. It remained in the back of his mind like waves crashing against a cliff. He forced himself to look ahead, down the street where you had left with the kids.

Admirable. Regardless of that first and odd impression of you, what you were doing deserved his respect.

After tending to his remaining duties for the day and while on his way to finally have that hot bath, he crossed Kephale Plaza. At this hour of day it grew quieter with less people gathering here, though a group of children would always drown out any other noise.

You sat on the small wall in front of the trees and flowers, girls and boys in front of you. There were more now than before. They didn’t hang on every word you said, more did they appear to be busy with each other, chatting and playing, while running up to you to let you know something or to drag you into their games.

Your smile never wavered.

Nor did that expression on your face.

Serene. Content. Happy.

No matter the reasons for why you were doing this, dedicating your time and efforts to children you perhaps did not even know, you enjoyed it. The appreciation for such an act of kindness - altruism - towards children flourished among the flames and burning blood surging through his veins, showing only in the vague upwards twitch of his lips.

Mydei didn’t linger as he passed the plaza.

———————

Seeing you at the store has become a regular occurrence, Demetria employed you after all.

What he didn’t come to expect was to see two Kremnoan children at the store. He’s seen them before. No orphans, both their parents were alive and warriors of Kremnos - no, Okhema - and people he valued. He’s played with these two kids before. The boy liked to train, asked for Mydei’s approval all the time, the girl took more after the Okheman’s, she danced and sang, playing around the theater all the time but wasn’t opposed to fighting either.

He didn’t expect to see them - two Kremnoan kids - here. Not after his first impression of you, writing off your reaction to prejudice - intimidation - as there were no Kremnoan kids in the group the other day either.

He stayed back, opted to observe rather than engage and allowed his curiosity to rule his actions.

The children lingered by the side of the store, fidgeting - eager and excited - as they stretched their necks to see into the store to watch what you were doing.

He tilted his head. You balanced a pomegranate in one hand, a knife in the other. This wasn’t your first time cutting one. The cuts were deliberate, the pressure rooted in experience - as expected from someone who made fruits their income. The deep red seeds anything but glowed in your hand, even from a distance he could make them out, a reminder why he only ever purchased them at this store.

You threw parts of the peel away and took the open fruit to the boy and the girl who waited for you as if expecting birthday gifts. As they popped the seeds into their mouths they talked to you. All their words - and your replies - got lost in the sea of voices flooding the market but the children’s smiles sounded as loud as the songs of victory after the Kremnoan army returned home from battle.

He smiled at the scene.

Witnessing their happiness came akin to a small victory indeed. A little - but precious nonetheless - moment to show him that the decision he’s made a long time ago has been the right one after all.

You ruffled the boy’s hair - to which he pouted and stemmed his hands in his hips - and after a few more exchanged words, the kids turned around and left, waving and laughing. You waved after them before retreating back into the store, a subtle smile on your lips, though a hint of something - amusement? Surprise? Approval? - sprouted in his chest when you popped a few of the remaining pomegranate seeds into your own mouth before you discarded the remains in the trash.

———————

There were days when the Fruit and Veg store found itself flooded by customers. More so than usual. Mydei came to know this always happened when the seasons changed or after the weekly delivery arrived.

Such as today.

Demetria never lost her smile as she dealt with customer after customer. Neither did you, even though you barely ever came out from the back of the store, opting to prepare the baskets and bags of orders and place them on the ground and table next to the owner for further handling.

It was then that he noticed how you avoided any contact to anyone. Not just avoided. You made an effort to not even allow your dress to brush along the clothes of a customer, not even Demetria herself. He frowned and yet, it rendered his first impression of you utterly void.

He didn’t dwell on the thought, it was stupid to begin with - too much overthinking, maybe a premature judgment of his own - but he couldn’t help but to feel… at ease anyway.

It, however, didn’t explain why you were going out of your way to avoid physical contact.

Mydei was reluctant to it himself, but - the battlefield aside - in the crowds of a city one could not avoid running into people, brushing up against them.

Your behavior at least looked unusual enough to make him pause, to make him think.

And he had no idea why he even pondered the reasons at all.

Mydei approached the store, got in line as any other citizen. He easily towered over the others, and the quiet mumbling of people around him reached his ears. He paid them no mind as he waited.

After another customer left, Demetria turned around to you and called out your name - the sound of it repeated in his head as if it was somehow important information - and you looked up from where you were gathering apples from the bowls as if surprised anyone required your attention. Amusing. Especially when you were working.

“Dear, please help out here for a bit,” Demetria said, a chuckle accompanying her words. “We have a lot of customers today.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow her request, though you fidgeted a whole lot more as you stood next to her and took orders as the owner herself did. Your smile polite, the curve of your brows soft, your shoulders lowered.

Only the subtle trembling of your hands revealed your anxiety at the risk of facing physical contact - voluntarily or not - by working in the front of the store.

He furrowed his brows. Unnatural behavior. Never without reason and he still wondered why he even thought about it. Yet again.

Demetria was deeply engaged in a customer who seemed to purchase the entire store’s stock of figs, so when it was his turn, you had to tend to him.

You stood in front of him with a smile on your face, a hint of patience surrounding you that wasn’t anywhere noticeable in the busy store around you. Nor in the unease in your hands and feet.

“Sir, what can I do for you?” you asked him, your head tilted slightly.

You had… pretty eyes, he acknowledged as you met his gaze. They reminded him of a field of flowers in the earliest rays of Kephale’s light. Gentle. Kind.

An expression that led him to assume that caring for children came easy to you. Made it easy for them to approach you. A sincerity that wasn’t shielded or covered by masks or facades.

Respectable. Admirable even.

It made him believe you either forgot your first reaction to him or didn’t pay it any mind, choosing to move on or try again instead. Something within him stirred at the sentiment. Even so, he didn’t mind.

“Pomegranates, please,” he said, “four of them.”

You nodded and retreated to the back, bagged four of the fruits before coming back to him. When you handed him the bag you held it at the top, preventing any chance of possibly brushing his hands or even clothes when he took it from you.

Attentive. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure if he approved of your actions or his own.

“That’s 400 balance coins,” you said and he handed you the money by letting it fall into your open palm, as you’ve done with the customers before from what he’s witnessed. You certainly knew your way around your… issue.

“Lord Mydei!”

The calls - two voices in unison - made him pause before he had managed to turn away from the store. When he looked behind him, he spotted the same two Kremnoan kids running towards him he’s seen the other day at your store.

They were smiling and his shoulders felt lighter immediately at the realization.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you buying pomegranates, Lord Mydei?”

They beamed at him as if they just made the discovery of a lifetime when even children knew the significance of pomegranates for Kremnoans. A child’s mind worked in fascinating ways - although he pondered how much of his own consumption of it was because of his enjoyment of it rather than tradition.

He allowed himself to smile. “But of course.”

“Woah!” the kids exclaimed before he could elaborate. He chuckled. A sound that resonated in his chest but never made it past his lips.

“Now, what are you two doing here by yourself?”

“We wanted to ask her for games,” the girl said and pointed at you behind him. He did turn his head, saw the amused smile on your face as you waved at the kids while taking another customer’s payment out of his peripheral vision.

Your popularity among these kids was… astounding.

“But when you’re here, Crown Prince, can you train with us?” the boy asked. His big round eyes contained a fire that was hard to come by even among adults. Sheer determination. And even more so, courage.

“What do your parents say about this?”

“They are alright with it!”

His lips twitched upwards. These kids didn’t know he would be here so that was a lie. He tilted his head at them.

“Really?”

They both froze until a moment later the girl began to sway from side to side, her cheeks as red as a pomegranate. The boy’s cheeks rivaled the fruit’s as well but he held Mydei’s gaze nonetheless.

Impressive.

Deep inside, Mydei wished more people would dare to meet him face to face like this. This little boy had more of Nikador’s virtues than most adults ever would. That alone was praiseworthy and his resolve to send the two kids home faltered.

“Alright, not really,” the girl said, pouting.

“But they know we were going to meet her!” the boy added, pointing at you again. The girl looked up and tapped the boy’s shoulder.

“Oh, oh, she can come with us,” she said. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, she can watch us get stronger!” he agreed.

“I can do what?” your voice sounded behind Mydei and he looked to the side as you stepped next to him. The crowd of the store had dissipated a bit by now.

“We wanna train with Lord Mydei and you can be there too and watch us,” the girl explained.

Mydei saw on your face that the idea caught you off guard, though he wondered if it was the training part or accompanying him that rendered you speechless for a moment.

For a short moment only however because the smile returned to your face, your expression softening. “I still have a lot of work to do here, I can’t leave just yet.”

“Then after work.”

“We’ll see later, alright?”

To the kids it was more than enough of an answer and they turned to him again, their eyes wide.

“Please, Lord Mydei? We’ll be good and go home afterwards right away. Promise!”

He relented. He had the time to spare and indulging these kids for a bit would both provide a distraction for him and make the children’s day so much better. In the end, he never could fully decline a kid’s request.

Not when nothing harmful was involved in any capacity.

And training them came more akin to playing House but with wooden swords rather than actual sparring.

Whether or not you would tag along, he couldn’t tell as you had to tend to your work again, and your reply had been ambiguous at best. The kids wanted you there. And him? He didn’t know.

He supposed it wouldn’t make much of a difference either.

#hsr #honkai star rail #mydei #mydei x reader #mydei x you #my fic

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p0lyn3sian · 10 months ago

Note

Slashers with a chef reader? Maybe they'll teach the slashers how to cook or bake? :)

OMGGG YESSS!!!

Slashers: Carrie, Chucky (Charles) & Tiffany, Sinclair Brothers, Thomas & Bubba, Norman, Billy & Stu, Billy Lenz & Brahms, The lost boys, Jason, and Michael!!!

Teaching slashers how to cook/bake!

Carrie:

Carrie's favorite thing to do is baking! For cooking not a lot actually, because she accidentally burnt the food she was making, almost cutting her fingers off for making the vegetables or meat, and a lot of messes everywhere!

But that's okay! After Carrie tells you why she doesn't love to cook as much as baking, you wanted to try and help her! So, first off you showed her how to cut properly, what temperature for certain food when it's ready, etc!

After a few days or so, she'll be like a cook in no time! She made Chicken Alfredo, Fried Rice, etc.. She's so happy that you taught her how to cook, and whenever you come to her house, she'll have some dishes for you to try! You'll also be giving her recipes that are easy for her to make, until she gets used to all the cooking! She is so grateful for you showing how to cook!!

Chucky (Charles) & Tiffany:

Chucky isn't really a cook or a baker, he just orders food... But for Tiffany she can cook and bake, but she thinks that some of her stuff is mostly bad.. That's why you are there at their house, showing how to cook and bake!

Tiffany is a fast learner doing things after what you do, but for Chucky he's just a slow learner (a really slow one). Tiffany hits Chucky with the wooden spoon on the head, telling him to do it or else.. So he had to, because he does not want to make his wife mad.

After teaching both of them cooking and baking for a few days, they've invited you to come again! They've made so much food, and a lot of sweets too! Tiffany gave you a big hug for helping her and Chucky learn to cook and bake more! Chucky just said thanks, but that's okay! You are so glad that these two wanted your help, and they're glad that you helped them too!

Sinclair brothers (Bo, Vincent, & Lester)

All three of them can't cook or bake.. So you taught them how to, of course! Bo doesn't want to bake, because he thinks it's only for the women so you had to throw a metal cooking spoon at him for that.. Vincent wants to do both and Lester just wants to do what you do!

So the first thing you did was baking! There were a few mistakes here and there for baking, like how Lester accidentally mixed some of the dry ingredients with the wet ingredients. After telling them why you don't mix dry ingredients with the wet ingredients, you guys then started baking different sweets! After baking all those sweets, you then moved into cooking, and again there were mistakes, so you had to teach them again.

After all the cooking and baking, there was a lot of food, and they hadn't been fed this well in a lot of years! They all said thanks and we're really happy that you wanted to help them cook and bake! Luckily while going to the store you remember about jonesy's food, so she ate too!

For the dog, people call the dog 'jonesy', and I think most of them said she's a female dog, unless I'm really wrong about the name and the gender, so please tell me if i made a mistake!

Thomas & Bubba:

These two wanted to learn how to bake, since their family are cooks but not much of bakers, except for Luda Mae! So you went to the grocery store that was a few miles down from their hometown, and got all the baking stuff they needed, even with the cooking since Drayton needed some seasonings and other stuff..

Once you arrive at home, you then start unpacking a lot of foods from the plastic bags! You told Mama (Luda) that you'll be coming back with a lot of stuff, and she was really confused as to why there's more baking instead of cooking ingredients. You then told her it was for Thomas and Bubba, that those two wanted to learn how to bake, and Mama wanted to help too since her boys wanted to learn! (She's so proud of them!!)

You and Mama taught them what to put in certain stuff, dry ingredients with dry ingredients and wet ingredients with wet ingredients, etc! Mama wanted pie for dessert, so you all made 4 big patches of apple pie! Making the pie was really fun with these two and especially funny, Thomas always tilted his head by the way he's confused with the stuff, and for Bubba he always shows you and Mama if he did the stuff right every few seconds or so. After all your hard work, you all sat down and ate drayton's famous roast dinner (ahem definitely not made from human meat 🌚, jkjk you already been eating human meat staying with these people). Then, you all ate the apple pie, and it was so good that Hoyt said who made these, and you answered it was Thomas and Bubba. Hoyt did a surprised face that these two baked the apple pie?? Which laughter then erupted around the table, just laughter and chattering filling the air of the Hewitt's home..

Norman:

Norman wanted to learn baking and cooking, just to help around your shared home! You asked him what he wanted to do first, and he wanted to do cooking first! Teaching him what to do with the cooking, you guys decided to do frying food! There were some hisses and ouches heard from Norman, but nothing too serious since he's getting used to the oil popping everywhere and going onto his skin.

So after all that frying, you guys went onto baking! Baking was really fun and also messy with Norman! You guys decided to make a chocolate cake for dessert after all your hard work! While the chocolate cake is being baked in the oven, you decide to turn up the radio to listen to some tunes. One of those tunes was playing Norman's favorite song, and he held out his hand for you to take, and so you did. Slow dancing to Norman's favorite tune for a little bit, until the cake was done!

Now dinner was set with all the frying foods you've done and the chocolate cake! Everything was beautiful to Norman, even with you he thought it was even more perfect than before! Both of you sat down from across from each other, and luckily you brought wine for this special occasion! And you popped open the cork and started pouring the wind into both your glasses. Just a nice romantic dinner with Norman..!

Billy & Stu:

These two mostly order out, which causes all their money to disappear almost everyday! You then talked to them about cooking and baking! Stu wanted to bake, since he loves sweets and for Billy he just doesn't want to do anything.. So you put Billy as the cook, he complained about it, but you ignored him for that.

Stu checked if all the stuff was measured correctly and ready to be mixed, and surprisingly everything he did was correct! He wanted to make brownies, and for Billy he needed lots of help from you! You then asked him what he would want for dinner tonight, and he looked through the recipe book that you bought, and pointed at Alfredo. You then told him to get out what the recipe book says and do it, and he got everything out. You then helped him with the cooking too, so that he doesn't burn down the Alfredo.

After everything was ready, Billy & Stu were ready to eat! You all sat down and started eating, Billy's Alfredo tasted really good which brought Stu almost eating the whole pot! And that's okay, you and Billy were full anyways, and after that Stu took out the brownies from the oven and gathered plates and cups for the milk. Stu then gave you and Billy brownies and a cup full of milk, and then started eating! Stu decided to make jokes and just laughter filling the air..

Billy Lenz & Brahms:

(decided to put these two together, since they're like a couple, attic rat and wall rat, wait whattt who said that??)

These two are like the biggest babies, whining for you to make food and sweets for them. You didn't have the energy to deal with all their baby attitudes, and grabbed both of them by the hands and dragged them downstairs to the kitchen. You then told them that they had to learn how to cook or bake.. Both of them looked at you and then at each other, and shook their heads telling you that they don't want to.. You forced them to.

They kinda hate for you to force both of them to help you with the cooking and baking. You had to pick baking, because it was kinda the easier one to do for both of them. You got the ingredients to make sour dough bread, and told them which ingredients need to be together or not together. Once those two were done, brahms put the sour dough bread into the oven.

Then those two wanted to cuddle right now, but you told them they had to wait until the bread is done. Then, the bread was done, it smelled heavenly for Billy and Brahms, and then you got the bread knife and started slicing the bread! (You didn't trust those two since they probably do something stupid with the bread knife 💀.) You gave each of them four slices of the sour dough bread, you walked to your chair and sat down and noticed that Billy and Brahms ate the four of their slices in just 5 seconds. They then dragged you upstairs after you ate your pieces of bread, just to cuddle with them..

The Lost Boys (David, Dwayne, Paul, & Marko):

You came up to your vampires and asked all of them if they wanted to learn cooking and/or baking! All of them chose baking since they really loved sweets, and they all wanted to try and make Twinkies! Luckily they had a box of Twinkies in their cave, and you grabbed the box from their secret hiding spot and looked at what you need for the ingredients.

Since they don't have a kitchen in their cave, you invited them to your house, but under one condition is that they all don't make a huge mess.. You all then arrived at your house and you gave all of your boys jobs just to make Twinkies. Paul and Dwayne are going to mix the ingredients and David and Marko are going to mold it into a Twinkie! (Or whichever shape they want!)

After making the Twinkies, you all then went to your couch and turned on a movie to watch as time passed by for the Twinkies to be done in the oven. Eventually it was done, and you then grabbed the pan from the oven using your kitchen glove and placed it onto the stove. You started counting how much there is for everyone and started splitting it up fairly. These vampires loved how it turned out, kinda crispy and warm after it was out of the oven! You all then bring your Twinkies and go over the couch and sit, you then unpaused the movie you all have been watching. Just snuggles and cuddles from your boys while watching a movie..

I literally don't know how to make Twinkies, so this was probably not really accurate at all..!

Jason Voorhees:

Jason asked you about teaching him about cooking and baking because he feels bad for you doing all the cooking! You were so glad he wanted you to teach him how to cook and bake, you then asked him what he wanted to cook and bake! Jason wanted to cook spaghetti with meatballs, and for dessert strawberry pie, because it reminds him of his mother's baking!

Luckily you two had enough ingredients to make spaghetti and strawberry pie! Jason wanted to do baking first, because his mother tells him that it takes longer than cooked foods! So you and Jason then worked on making strawberry pie, mixing in ingredients and you then put the pie into the oven. You and Jason then worked on making spaghetti with meatballs!

While the spaghetti and meatballs are cooking, the pie was done! Jason grabbed it out of the oven and placed it on top of the dish cloth, to let it cool down a little. Now the food was done, so you grabbed bowls and plates with forks and set them on the table, and Jason grabbed the food and the pie. You had some strawberries that were in the fridge and placed them on the pie, and sat down with Jason. Jason then took off his mask, and smiled at you, happy that he made food with you!

Michael:

You had to make Michael look at how you cook, baking is off the list because you have a feeling that he'll be eating the whole bag of sugar.. Michael didn't want to watch how you cook, he wanted to go out there and kill his victims! You told Michael that he'll have to learn to cook, because some days at your job they'll probably want you to work overtime. So, you decided to make the easiest one for him. Which is hotdogs..

You grabbed the pot from underneath the cupboards and poured in water from the sink and placed it on top of the boiling stove. You then grabbed sausages out of your fridge and plopped 6 sausages. You then explained to him that it'll only take about 4 to 6 minutes, since you already turned on the stove to the boiling point.

After the sausages were done, you then asked Michael to get the bread that was in the storage and put it on the table. And so he did, you then walked to the table and placed a dish cloth on the table, just to not burn the table. Since Michael is a picky eater, you got ketchup for him and other sauces that you like to put on your hotdogs. You then told him to grab a fork and stab at the sausage and place it on the bread. He did what you said, and you then told him to drizzle the ketchup in a straight line or in a squiggly line, and he drizzled into a squiggly line and he took off his mask and ate the hotdog. You then did the same to your hotdog and bit into it too, you asked Michael if he wanted to do this again. Michael didn't move a little, until he looked at you and nodded his head..!

#requested #slashers x reader #carrie white x reader #chucky x tiffany #chucky x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #norman bates x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy lenz x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #tlb x reader #jason vorhees x reader #michael myers x reader

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olga-antonovna · 4 days ago

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Marauders era - incorrect quotes edition James Potter, probably at some point in his life: I'm not convinced I know how to read. I've just memorized a lot of words.

Sirius Black: I'm pretty sure I'm having a heart attack, and I haven't arranged for anyone to clear my search history. I wasn't building a bomb, I was just curious!

Evan Rosier: If we needed to talk about feelings, they would be called "talkings."

Pandora Lovegood: I believe horses are from outer space.

Dorcas Meadows: Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.

James Potter, drunkenly apologizing to Regulus after an argument: I am the stupidest of all stupid boys.

Barty Crouch Junior, leaving a voicemail for Evan during his first family gathering with the Rosiers: Where are you, Evan? This place is fancy, and I don't know which fork to kill myself with.

Regulus Black: How about this as a science project: love is a myth.

Remus Lupin: I am not a successful adult. I don't eat vegetables and/or take care of myself.

Marlene McKinnon: Be optimistic? Learn? We're all gonna die alone, so...

James Potter: Yeah, I'd trust Beyonce with my life.

Sirius Black, jealous @ Reggie and James once they get together: You're allowed to be happy, but it's really annoying the way you're doing it.

James, to Sirius the first time Regulus comes over to visit the Potters: Dad and Reg seem to be getting along great...

#marauders era #marauders #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #regulus black #james potter #james fleamont potter #sirius black #pandora lovegood #pandora rosier #sirius orion black #starchaser #marauders incorrect quotes #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadows

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wongyuseokie · 1 month ago

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Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 4: Speaking First and Thinking Much Later

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁�� angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 10,645 words

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.

Content Warnings: honestly? its just all around a bit weepy and sad yn just feels very isolated and granted she did most of it to herself girlie is sad. men being creepy, nothing too serious just men being gross, but mingyu is the bestest. alcohol consumption, mentions of food. not really infidelity, but someone is deffos kissing someone they shouldn’t. yn is just not very good with her words. more angst because its me hehehehe Smut Warnings: handjob, mountain sex (it’ll make sense when you read it, dont worry its not anything super precarious) cum licking, handcuffs, sex toy use, nothing super crazy, overstimulation for them both, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex. morning sex, he gives her oral to wake her up which is such a wonderful thought. oral sex. fingering. squriting. yn doms him for a secon its nothing too serious. mingyu whines because ofc he does. not really orgasm denial, more orgasm control. amazing aftercare because duh. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 4, and if i can finally learn to stop adding more and more, then we're going to almost be at the homestretch very soon. heheh. Series Masterlist

A couple of days later, you were in the grocery store. You were looking for something sweet but also adding some vegetables to your cart, because you told yourself that this is what adulting is, quietly scanning the aisles, when you heard someone call out behind you.

“Hi.”

You jumped slightly and turned to see Seungcheol standing next to you in the cereal aisle, a carton of oat milk in his hand and a hesitant smile on his face.

“I just—look, I wanted to apologise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so aggressive the other night. I was being protective, but... I won’t lash out at you again. Not in the name of protecting him.”

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “Why?” You asked, the word slipping out before you could filter it.

Seungcheol gave you a knowing smile. “Because he still likes you. And I don’t want to hurt someone he cares about.”

Your heart thudded painfully. “You think he—?”

“He’s a stubborn ass, but he’s not a lost cause,” Seungcheol said with a grin. “You just need to give him a reason to trust you again.”

You nodded slowly, watching him disappear into the next aisle. You stood there for a long moment, mind spinning, until finally you made your way to the checkout. ~~

Later that evening, you found yourself at a nearby bar. Not drinking. Just seated in a booth, laptop open, trying to map out your next article. The bar was quiet and half-empty, the way you liked it. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the sunlight was gone and the neon signs outside flickered on.

“So,” a voice interrupted. “How can I convince a girl as beautiful as you to get a drink with me?”

You looked up from your laptop and instantly regretted making eye contact. A stranger had slid into the booth opposite you, reeking of cologne and entitlement.

“You can’t,” you said flatly. “Now, please leave.”

He grinned, undeterred. “Oh come on, pretty girl. You look good. Way too good to be single.”

You glared at him. “I’m not.”

“Oh really?” He asked, eyes dropping to your hand. “Then why are you all alone on a Friday night?”

“Because I have things to do,” you snapped.

But before the man could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the space between you.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Mingyu slid into the booth beside you with practiced ease, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your temple. His hand brushed protectively over your lower back as he turned to the guy.

“Do you mind?” Mingyu asked, voice low and cold. “My girlfriend and I are busy.”

The stranger muttered something unintelligible and stumbled away. You were still frozen in place when Mingyu turned to you.

“Did he try to touch you?”

You shook your head, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t a fiery, messy kiss. It was gentle. Hesitant. Warm.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you said, pulling away.

Mingyu was breathless, lips slightly parted. “Yeah, but I kissed you back.” He smiled a little, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me play knight in shining armor.”

You gave a small laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

You both sat there, the tension quietly humming beneath the surface, until finally you both spoke at once:

“Look—”

You both stopped and laughed, a little shy, a little sad.

“I guess…” Mingyu began again, voice softer now. “I guess no matter what happens, I always end up running into you.”

You smiled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No. It’s not. Look, you messed up. A lot. You hurt me. But I still care. I still like you.”

Your chest ached as he continued, “I want to believe you. I want to trust you again.”

You hesitated—then slowly reached for his hand, your fingers lacing with his. “I can show you. Everything. The journal. The article draft. All of it.”

He looked at you for a long time, then nodded. “No more lies?”

“No more lies.”

“Okay,” he said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Yours,” he said simply. “We’re going through that journal.”

You laughed, following him out into the night. The car ride was filled with easy silence, the kind that felt like progress.

When you reached your apartment, Mingyu threw you a teasing look as you stared at his thighs again. “You drooling or just admiring?”

You glared at him. “You know ripped jeans are impractical in this weather, right?”

“They’re for accentuating purposes,” he replied smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, I’m grabbing wine. You make yourself comfortable.”

You came back with a bottle and two glasses, setting them by the bedside table before digging out the journal. Mingyu had already poured the drinks when you sat beside him, handing over the small black book like it was an offering.

He patted the space between his legs. “Sit. Makes it easier to read.”

You did, leaning back against him with the journal open in your lap. “Okay,” you said. “Forget the article for a second. How would you have rated me on our first date?”

Mingyu smiled, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You? A ten. Even with the lava cake accident.”

You laughed. “It was so dramatic. I had to rate you a six to keep myself from falling too fast.”

“And how’s that working out for you now?” He asked, chin resting on your shoulder.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

The warmth of his body behind you, the weight of the journal in your hands, and the taste of wine on your tongue told him everything he needed to know.

It had been an hour of Mingyu simply reading, and you couldn’t take the silence any longer. You exhaled deeply, nerves fraying with every word.

“You asked me to be your girlfriend,” you said quietly, voice tight, “and the joy in your face... I didn’t want to ruin that. And I know I did.”

Mingyu didn’t say anything right away. He just reached over, took the wine glass and the journal out of your hands, and set them on the bedside table. His movements were careful, like he didn’t want to make you flinch.

“I never meant to hurt you,” you continued, eyes locked on your lap. “I wanted to fall for you. I knew I felt something. In hindsight, it was a terrible idea. But the more I saw you, the more the article faded. I almost forgot why I even started writing it.”

“I could kind of tell,” Mingyu said, a soft smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

You looked up, startled. “Really?”

Mingyu nodded. “Your entries... they went from bullet-point lists of ‘what he did right’ and ‘what he said wrong’ to what basically looked like love letters. Rambling sermons about how whipped you were.”

You let out an embarrassed groan. “Oh god.”

“I’m serious,” Mingyu said, hand returning to your thigh, “you went from ‘dresses well, smells nice’ to ‘he made me laugh so hard I cried, and I felt like my chest was full of sun.’”

You covered your face, mortified. “I shouldn’t have used you as a story.”

“No,” he said softly. “You really shouldn’t have.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, gentle and light—like something fragile had cracked open again but hadn’t quite healed.

“I want to see the draft,” Mingyu said, pulling back.

You hesitated, then nodded and reached for your laptop.

When the document opened, you scrolled down to the only paragraph that had made it onto the page.

“Blah, blah,” you mumbled, trying not to cringe. “All I know is this may have been a stupid way to test how much I like someone, but I’m glad I did. I know deep down I’m falling for him. Hell, I think I fell for him the first time he kissed me. But now I know that I’m well and truly head over heels for him. And a deadline shouldn’t dictate that.”

Mingyu went still.

“Why is this the only thing you wrote?” He asked quietly.

You shrugged. “I guess I didn’t need to write the rest. I already knew how it ended.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then smiled to himself and closed the laptop gently. “So... you liked me from the first time I kissed you?”

You rolled your eyes. “‘Like’ is a strong word. But yeah, something started then.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Butterflies?”

You groaned. “Ugh, you’re never going to let that go.”

“Nope,” he said, laughing as you smacked his chest lightly.

In one easy motion, he pulled you around so you were facing him, legs straddling his lap, and his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Finally, one more thing,” Mingyu said, his voice lower now, more serious. “If I can’t bring myself to trust you again, please... allow me that. Don’t push.”

You nodded. “I get it. I won’t pressure you.”

“But I won’t drag you through ten dates to test my feelings either,” he teased.

You smiled and pressed your forehead to his. “Can I ask for one thing then?”

“Anything.”

“If we do this—if there’s even a small chance—we start fresh. You don’t throw the article at me every time you’re upset, and I don’t beg you to forget what I did just so I can sleep at night.”

Mingyu was quiet for a beat, then nodded. “Fine.” He pulled you in tighter for a moment before slowly letting go.

He stood up, brushing off his pants and stretching his arms overhead. “When do you plan on taking me out then?”

You laughed. “Tomorrow night?”

He grinned. “I’ll be in the studio, but I’ll need to eat. So yeah. You’re on.”

You walked him to the door, your fingers brushing his as he stepped out. “See you tomorrow?”

Mingyu smiled. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

And with that, the door closed behind him, and you leaned against it, letting the quiet echo of hope fill your chest.

You hadn’t expected to see anyone else there.

You knocked softly before stepping into Mingyu’s studio, the takeout bag in your hand still warm. You were smiling—nervous but hopeful—until you saw her.

She was stunning, lounging on the studio couch like it was her own, one hand tucked under her chin, smiling softly at something Mingyu had said. He stood near her, camera slung around his neck, laughing as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They looked close. Too close.

You cleared your throat. “Hey.”

Both of them turned. Mingyu straightened when he saw you. “Hey.”

The woman stood, brushing imaginary lint from her clothes. “Oh. I see you’ve got company,” she said lightly, casting a glance at the takeout bag in your hand. “I was heading out anyway. See you tomorrow, Gyu.” The nickname slid from her mouth with practiced ease. And then she was gone, breezing right past you.

“I brought noodles and stir-fried beef,” you said quietly, holding up the bag like an awkward offering.

Mingyu motioned to the couch. “Cool. Have a seat.”

You hesitated, eyes flickering to the exact spot she’d just vacated.

Mingyu clocked your expression instantly. “We didn’t have sex if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You blinked.

“So if you’re wondering whether there’s some trace of her left on the couch, there isn’t,” he snapped. “She’s my work partner.”

“Right,” you muttered, sitting down stiffly.

“She’s helping me with a concept shoot. We’ve been collaborating closely—nothing more.”

You crossed your legs and tried to ignore the sting behind your ribs. “Didn’t look like nothing.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t mean to be harsh, but photographers get close all the time. It doesn’t mean it’s personal. You’re being dramatic.”

You flinched. “Not like you have a right to be mad.”

He looked at you sharply. “Excuse me?”

“You said it first,” you said tightly. “I don’t get to be upset, remember?”

Mingyu looked away, jaw ticking. “So is this our date? You coming here to glare at me and sulk over something you imagined?”

You exhaled slowly. “Do you want to play a game or something?”

“No,” he said. “Your jealousy already killed the vibe.”

Silence stretched between you. The food sat untouched.

“I had something else in mind,” you said after a moment. “Saturday. Are you free?”

He didn’t look at you. “What time?”

“Seven.”

“Seven AM?”

“Wear trainers.”

You grabbed your bag and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Mingyu asked, still seated.

“This was a terrible date,” you said honestly. “You’re right—I got jealous for no reason. I’ll see you Saturday.”

He stood slowly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Okay. But text me before you come. I sleep like the dead.”

You gave him a small nod. “Text me the code to your door.”

You hated how stilted it all felt, how far from the natural rhythm you used to share. But you weren’t going to let one awkward night ruin the rest.

You were determined to try—one slow, imperfect step at a time.

“Gyu,” you whispered, gently nudging his shoulder. “Wake up.”

It was 6:45 a.m. on Saturday, and Mingyu was still buried under a pile of blankets, curled in like a child avoiding the world. His long hair was a mess of waves across his cheek, his plush lips parted slightly in sleep. The only reply you got was a soft grumble and the blanket being tugged tighter around him.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” you replied, already trying to peel the blanket off him.

“No,” he groaned dramatically, “too early. Regret. Everything is regret.”

You smiled, despite yourself. “I brought coffee.”

That got a response. Mingyu cracked one eye open, squinting at the light. “You’re evil,” he muttered, but slowly began to sit up. His limbs stretched out stiffly, and he blinked blearily at you. “What time is it again?”

“Early. Come on, lazy.” You tugged at his arm. “You promised to let me plan this date.”

“Was I drunk when I agreed to this?” He asked, but he allowed you to drag him out of bed anyway. You handed him his coffee as he stumbled toward the bathroom, muttering curses under his breath. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You were waiting by his door when he came back out, clean and dressed but still half-asleep. “You’re in workout gear,” he said, eyes scanning you. “It makes your ass look incredible.”

“Romantic,” you muttered. “Can I drive?”

“Sure, but if you scratch my car, I’m ghosting you.”

You snorted, accepting the keys and tossing him a breakfast sandwich. “Eat. You’ll need it.”

The drive was quiet for the first fifteen minutes, Mingyu alternating between sipping coffee and dozing with his head tilted toward the window. But as the city began to fade behind you, he suddenly spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

You glanced over at him. “Sure.”

“Do you remember once, you told me the reason you had trust issues was because he cheated on you? What were the signs?”

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. “Straight to trauma at sunrise, huh?”

Mingyu shrugged, sheepish. “Sorry. Just curious.”

You exhaled. “He came home late, smelled like someone else. I walked in on him once—literally walked in.” Your voice was flat. “It wasn’t subtle.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That’s… messed up.”

“It was,” you agreed. “But I’m over it.”

Mingyu placed a warm hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. “I’d never do that to someone. Even when I was mad at you, I never thought about it.”

You glanced at him, his brows furrowed in sincerity, and nodded. “I know.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, but it was no longer uncomfortable.

“We’re here,” you said, nudging him awake as you parked.

Mingyu blinked rapidly. “Oh my god, we’re hiking?”

“You said you like outdoor dates,” you replied, grabbing your backpack.

“I meant like coffee-on-a-patio outdoor,” he muttered, dragging himself out of the car.

You led the way up the trail, the morning air crisp and biting at your cheeks. Birds chirped overhead, and sunlight broke through the trees in patches, warming your back.

“You’ve been quiet,” Mingyu said after a while, trailing a few steps behind you. “Uncharacteristically so.”

You stopped abruptly, and he bumped into you.

“Okay, maybe warn me next time,” he said, rubbing his chest.

“I just…” you turned to face him. “I didn’t want this to feel like pressure. I wanted to do something that made you happy, and now I feel like I’m failing again.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback. “What? No. I’m just groggy. I’m sorry.”

You looked away. “You’re allowed to not be into it. I just—wanted to try.”

“Hey.” He stepped closer, brushing your wrist with his fingertips. “I like it. I do. I’m glad you remembered what I said. I was sleepy and grumpy.”

You nodded, feeling the tension melt a little. “Okay. Then follow me. I want to show you something.”

You led him further up the trail, the path narrowing slightly. Mingyu didn’t speak again, just stayed close behind, his eyes fixed on your back until you reached the final turn.

“I brought you here for the view,” you said, pointing to the clearing ahead.

Mingyu stepped up beside you. The trees fell away to reveal a sweeping valley bathed in soft morning light, gold and green stretching endlessly beneath a powder-blue sky.

“Wow,” he whispered, the breath knocked out of him. “It’s beautiful.”

You looked at him. “I wanted to do something that wasn’t about guilt or apologies. Just… us.”

Mingyu turned to you, his gaze softer now. “Thank you,” he said. “Really.”

You smiled. “So… worth waking up for?”

“Not the waking up part,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “But this? Absolutely.”

“Oh.” Mingyu stayed silent as you both got to the peak.

“Sit,” you said, motioning to a patch of rock.

“Here.” You handed Mingyu a granola bar.

“Fine dining?”

You laughed, “I’ll feed you later, I couldn’t exactly carry a whole meal up here, could I?”

Mingyu nodded, taking the granola bar.

“Okay, this view is worth waking up for.”

You smiled at his words, “How did you find it?” Mingyu asked.

“Joshua told me about it, and he dragged me here twice, so that I’d appreciate the trees.”

Mingyu smiled at you. “So why’d you bring me?”

“I wanted to bring you somewhere serene and calm.”

Mingyu nodded, looking out at the sunrise stretching wide over the valley.

“It’s beautiful.”

He patted the spot between his legs. “Come here. Cuddle me.”

You laughed but obliged, settling between his legs as his arms wrapped snug around your waist.

His chin rested on your shoulder.

“I’m thinking you might be the koala in this relationship,” you teased, running your hands over his fingers.

Mingyu turned his head toward you, eyes dark. “Fuck. I meant…”

You tilted your head toward him and caught his lips in a kiss. It was soft, lingering, like neither of you were in a rush to let go.

“I know,” he murmured, forehead brushing against yours. “But in my defense, you dragged me out of bed, and you’re very nice to hold.”

“I’ve never seen the sunrise with anyone before,” Mingyu added, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as the sky began to shift from gold to a pale orange. “I like this date.”

He pushed your ponytail aside and kissed your neck softly.

“It’s not over,” you whispered, “I haven’t fed you yet.”

You felt the grin on his lips before he spoke.

“I have something I want to eat.”

You groaned, smacking his thigh.

“Not on a hike.”

Mingyu just pulled you closer into his lap, and you could feel the heat of his body and the hardness pressing against you.

“I swear to god,” Mingyu muttered as he pulled you back into his lap, his voice already strained with need, “these yoga pants should be illegal.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “They’re literally for exercise.”

Mingyu slid his hands over your thighs, up to your hips, and then cupped your breasts, tugging lightly on the hem of your sports bra. “No. They’re for driving me insane. From the moment I saw you today, all I’ve been thinking about is this—” His fingers tugged gently on the fabric covering your chest, then rolled your nipple between his fingers. You shivered, your breath catching.

“My tits have been killing you?” You teased, your voice breathy despite your attempt at sarcasm.

“And your ass. And you,” Mingyu said with a soft groan, his thumb brushing over your other nipple. “Every inch of you.”

You gasped as he pinched gently. “What if someone sees us?”

Mingyu just grinned. “Then they’re in for a good show.” He shifted you in his lap so you were straddling him, chest to chest. “But seriously,” he murmured against your neck, “tell me to stop, and I will. No games.”

You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as he pressed soft kisses along your skin. “Not even tempted,” you whispered.

Your hand slid down to palm him over his sweats. He gasped against your neck, his hips twitching into your touch.

“Let me take care of you,” you said softly, your lips brushing his jaw as your fingers slipped into his waistband and freed him from his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as you wrapped your hand around him and started to stroke. One of his hands slipped under your top, fingers splaying across your lower back while the other resumed toying with your breasts.

The sounds he made were low, needy, the kind that made you ache. You picked up your pace, thumb swiping over his tip, and he let out a ragged moan.

“Oh my god, that’s—shit,” he gasped, his voice unraveling as you reached down to cup his balls, your other hand still stroking him. “Fuck, Y/N—I’m not gonna last.”

You leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed and messy, as he finally came in your hand. His body trembled under yours, and he moaned into your mouth as you milked him through it, not stopping until his hips jerked in overstimulation.

“Well, fuck,” he breathed, blinking up at you with glassy eyes.

You grinned. “Breakfast served.”

Then, because you’re wicked, and you knew he’d like it, you licked your hand clean slowly, and Mingyu let out a strained groan.

“You’re evil,” he muttered.

A few moments later Mingyu speaks up, “This was nice, and right now it’s the first time I’ve felt happy with us in a while, and I’m not just saying that only because you made me cum so hard.”

You turned your head and looked at him. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The wind rustled the trees gently, birds called in the distance, and the only warmth you needed came from the boy who held you like he never wanted to let go.

You stood up after a few more minutes, stretching like a cat. “Come on. Let’s eat before I drag you back to the car by your hair.”

“Are you my breakfast?” He asked, his voice half-playful, half-sincere.

You laughed, already walking away. “Keep up, Gyu. Race you to the car.”

Mingyu groaned, grabbing his hoodie as he stumbled to follow. “This is so unfair.

“I’ll drive,” Mingyu said as you both reached back to the car, “so, where are you taking me?”

You smiled at him as you keyed the address into the GPS. “It’s a surprise.”

“Acai bowls?” Mingyu asked skeptically as you both stepped into the café and saw the menu.

“Do you not like them?”

He shook his head. “Never had them.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock horror. “You’re a twenty-something who hasn’t had acai? That’s blasphemy.” Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Should I grab us a table, Your Majesty, Queen of Acai?”

You laughed and nodded. “Go on, peasant. I’ll order.”

You came back with the acai bowls a few minutes later and prompted Mingyu to take a bite first.

“Oh, it’s like ice cream,” Mingyu said as he took a bite.

You smiled at him.“Okay, I’m crap with dates, but how’s this one?”

Mingyu grinned. “Let’s see—you dragged me up to a mountain at the buttcrack of dawn, and made it better by making me cum, and now you’re feeding me. You’re doing just fine.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you.” ~~

“Hey, I’ve got to head to the studio tonight,” Mingyu said as you walked back to the car.”

“Want to come? I have a solo shoot, just me. No assistants or models.”

You smiled. “Sure, and then we can get dinner after?”

Mingyu nodded. “And a movie. Or two. I’m not getting tired of you anytime soon.”

You beamed. ~~

You had planned to surprise him at the studio, but your steps froze when you saw him. He was on the couch, locked in a kiss. With the same photographer from the last time. The one who smiled too much and lingered too long.

You backed out of the studio and quickly slipped out of the building. Your phone buzzed relentlessly with his name, but you replied once—urgent work call, can’t talk, see you later for the movie.

“Hey, you okay?” Mingyu asked as you sat stiffly at the far end of the bed, watching the movie from what felt like a separate timezone.

You nodded. “Want to cuddle? Or I can grab a blanket?” He asked.

You shook your head.

He paused the movie and scooted over, pulling you in.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

But you didn’t pull away either.

“I saw that girl, the one you told me not to worry about?”

Mingyu sighed. “So I thought I saw you, and running out.”

You looked down. “I know I don’t have the right. I know I’m the last person to get jealous. But it hurt.”

He paused the movie. “She kissed me. She asked if I was single, I said yes—because we’re not official—and she kissed me.”

You nodded, silent.

“I pushed her off and told the director I need a new lighting tech. One that doesn’t flirt with me.”

You laughed quietly. “Is there even such a person?”

“Well the new one is married to a woman, so I don’t think I’m her type.” You smiled as you finally curled into his side.

“We’ve had a lot of roadblocks, but you’re worth it,” he whispered.

“Whatever it takes, Gyu,” you said softly. “I’ll make you trust me again.”

Mingyu tightened his arm around you. “Just don’t break me.”

“I won’t,” you whispered. “Not this time.”

The following week with Mingyu was…surprisingly smooth. No arguments, no awkward tension, and no stormy silences. Just a steady, gentle rhythm that felt dangerously close to peace.

Which is why it felt like a slap when his phone wouldn’t stop ringing in the middle of your very heavy makeout session on his couch.

You were straddling his lap, flushed and breathless, when he sighed, muttering, “Sorry, I just need to reply to a few messages—it’s about the new showcase tomorrow.”

You climbed off him reluctantly, brushing your hair back. “Ah. The big one?”

Mingyu nodded distractedly, texting. “Yeah. It’s kind of a huge deal. And sold out already.”

You blinked. “Sold out?”

He glanced up at you sheepishly. “Yeah. I can maybe see if someone has a spare ticket, but—”

You shook your head before he could finish. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

Mingyu set his phone down. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“We can hang out after, maybe?” He offered.

You nodded, but it didn’t sit right. If he wanted you there, he would’ve said so. You didn’t want to beg for a place you weren’t invited to.

You stood, gathering your clothes. “I should get going. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Mingyu stayed silent as you dressed. “So…what are you writing now?” He asked finally.

You smiled faintly, tucking your top into your jeans. “Nothing yet. Guess you’ve taken up all my recent material.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lip. A strange look crossed his face—like he didn’t know whether to be flattered or deeply uneasy.

You leaned in and kissed him goodbye, murmuring, “See you later, handsome.”

Mingyu caught your wrist, tugging you into his lap. “You know, you could stay.”

“Do you want me to?”

That was the wrong question.

Mingyu's jaw clenched, and he let go of you, shifting away. “You know, I get that you’re trying to rebuild my trust, but you’re playing this so safe it’s like you’re scared of me.”

You sighed. “I’m trying not to push. I didn’t want to overstep.”

“But you had no problem shoving your hand down my pants earlier,” Mingyu snapped.

You blinked. “You think this is about sex?”

“Who initiates it every time?” He said, standing now, pulling his sweats on.

“You do,” you said quietly. “I just…follow your lead. I’m trying to be careful.”

Mingyu exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. His voice dropped. “I just want us to be okay again.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “We will be. I’ll keep trying, Gyu.”

He turned, wrapping you in his arms. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Mingyu leaned in, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

You smiled. “Only if you let me shower first. I can barely feel my legs.”

Mingyu chuckled, releasing you. “Do you need help walking?”

“No. But I’ll take cuddles after.”

He grinned. “Deal. I’ll leave out a shirt for you to wear.”

“Thanks,” you said, disappearing into the bathroom, already feeling a little steadier.

That evening, you were finishing up your dinner when a knock sounded at the door. Mingyu stood there, beaming, holding up two showcase tickets like they were a prize he’d just won.

“Got one!” He grinned. “You’re still down to come tomorrow?”

You wiped your hands, trying to hide your excitement. “Absolutely.”

You leaned in slowly, testing, giving him the space to pull away. But he didn’t. His hand slipped to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and his lips met yours with a quiet, aching certainty.

It was soft. Warm. The kind of kiss that made time blink out around the edges.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little unevenly.

“So,” you whispered.

“So,” he echoed, grinning, “does this mean you’re staying?”

You smiled at him. “Only if you give me something comfier to sleep in.”

Mingyu stood up immediately. “You want the grey hoodie or the black one? Wait, no — I have that really soft tee that’s a dress on you—”

“Dealer’s choice, Gyu.”

He paused and then turned back to face you, suddenly shy. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your smile softened. “Me too.”

And just like that, you stayed — brushing your teeth with his spare toothbrush, folding into the right side of his bed, and his warmth behind you as the room faded into quiet.

And for the first time in a while, things felt like they were just right.

The following day, you were awakened by a wet and warm sensation ghosting over your inner thigh.

“Gyu?” You mumbled, your voice hazy with sleep.

There was no answer—just the slow, sinful drag of his tongue against your folds. Your body jolted fully awake, your hips twitching as he used his hands to lift your ass slightly, pulling you closer and locking you against his mouth.

“Mingyu—fuck,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his damp hair.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His mouth was reverent—almost lazy—as if he had all the time in the world to worship you. He licked you slowly, like he was savouring the taste of you, letting your soft moans guide his pace.

But just when your legs started to tremble, just when you were teetering on the edge, Mingyu pulled away.

“No—why did you stop?” You whimpered.

He only smirked, eyes dark as he slowly slid your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside.

“I stopped,” he said, voice gravelly, “because I want to do this properly.”

That’s when you realised he was naked—he must have ditched his sweats—and now he was crawling over you, his body all heat and pressure and weight. He hovered above you for a second, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, too breathless to speak.

Then he pushed into you with a low groan, filling you. You bit your lip to keep from moaning too loudly. His thrusts were deep and slow at first, and you could feel how badly he’d wanted this—how long he’d been holding back.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered against your neck, “so perfect.”

You held onto him as he began to move faster, his rhythm sure and desperate. When his hand slipped between your bodies to rub your clit, you gasped, barely able to hold yourself together.

“Come with me,” he panted. “Come on, pretty girl. I want to feel you fall apart.”

You cried out softly as your orgasm hit, clinging to him as your body clenched tightly around him. A moment later, he groaned against your shoulder and came inside you, his thrusts slowing, more tender now.

When it was over, Mingyu didn’t pull away. He stayed where he was for a beat longer, breathing hard, then kissed your forehead gently.

“Morning,” he murmured.

You laughed breathlessly, nuzzling into his chest. “God… that was a really nice way to wake up.”

He wrapped both arms around you and let out a low chuckle. “Mm, I agree.”

“What do I wear?” You asked Mingyu later that morning, he was over at your apartment, helping you decide what to wear, you felt overwhelmed by just glancing at the mess of clothes scattered on the floor.

Mingyu gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s in a club, so… heels and a dress you don’t mind getting a little messed up,” he said, his voice dipping lower as his hand traced a line down your stomach.

You raised a brow. “Why?”

He smirked, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear. “So I don’t feel bad when I rip it off you,” he whispered, and before you could process his words, his hand slid between your legs, fingers brushing against your core.

Your breath hitched. “Mingyu…”

He pushed a finger inside you, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched your reaction.

“Good?” he asked, his voice soft and attentive.

You couldn’t even form a proper response, just a breathy moan slipping past your lips. He added another finger, his movements slow and deliberate. “Come on, baby. I asked you a question,” he teased, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit.

Your body arched into his touch, and you gasped, “S-so good.”

He leaned down to kiss your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured. He didn’t rush, taking his time as his fingers moved in and out of you, his other hand resting on your hip to keep you grounded.

Your hands gripped the sheets as pleasure built inside you. Mingyu’s lips ghosted over your collarbone, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he whispered. “You hear how wet you are? So pretty when you’re like this.”

You barely managed a nod, your legs trembling as his fingers curled just right, hitting that spot that made you lose your composure. Mingyu kept his eyes on you, drinking in every little gasp and whimper.

He slowed down just a little, teasing you, and you whined in protest. “Think you can squirt for me, baby? Hm?”

Your head fell back against the pillow, his words pushing you closer to the edge. “I-I can’t,” you stammered.

“Yes, you can,” he whispered, his voice coaxing and gentle. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

With that, he increased the intensity, his thumb circling your clit with more pressure. Your vision blurred as you cried out, body shuddering as waves of pleasure overtook you. Mingyu held you through it, murmuring soothing words as you rode out your orgasm.

When you came back to your senses, you saw him grinning down at you, his hand still resting gently on your thigh. “There she is,” he teased, brushing some hair from your face.

You shot him a half-hearted glare. “Don’t look so smug.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You made a mess of your sheets,” he teased, but his tone was light, clearly proud.

You rolled your eyes, still catching your breath. “Shut up.”

Mingyu just laughed, the sound warm and reassuring. “Come on. We both have to get ready, don’t we? Let’s get cleaned up,” he said, scooping you up effortlessly and carrying you to the bathroom.

In the shower, he was surprisingly gentle, helping you wash up and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and then. Even with the limited time, he couldn’t help but slip his hands around your waist and kiss you deeply, his lips slow and unhurried despite the morning rush.

“Can’t help myself,” he murmured when you gave him a playful glare.

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your head on his chest as the warm water cascaded over both of you. “Neither can I,” you admitted.

When you were both dressed and ready, he kissed you again before heading out. “I need to get there earlier to set up,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, “Mm, I need to go into the office too, just for a bit.”

“So, I’ll see you tonight at the showcase?” Mingyu asked, lazily draping his arms around your waist while you changed into your work clothes.

You nodded. “And I’ll have you all to myself?”

He smirked. “Not entirely, but most of the night, yeah.”

You leaned up to kiss him, only for Mingyu to deepen it into something slower, lazier, like he had no intention of letting you leave.

You pulled away with a laugh, fixing your hair. “Go, I need to make sure my legs are still working for tonight. I already know I’m going to be limping, thanks.”

Mingyu just smirked wider. “I’m proud.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. “See you tonight.”

“Y/N! Just the woman I wanted to see,” Keira called out as you walked into the office. She shut the door behind you like she’d been waiting.

“You’ve been very bubbly lately,” she said with a grin. “Things good with the infamous Mingyu?”

You gave a sheepish nod. “We’re… trying. Slowly.”

“Well, I was thinking—” Keira’s smile widened, “maybe you could write something about how a stupid article led you to the love of your life.”

You raised a brow. “Keira.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “I’m serious. The Mingyu profile did great. And I was thinking… a follow-up. Maybe something a little deeper?”

You blinked. “You want me to write about him. Again.”

Keira leaned forward. “Think about it. Not just a profile—something personal. A retrospective. How it started, where you are now. People would eat it up.”

“No,” you said, firm.

Keira blinked at your sudden shift in tone. “You sure?”

“I’m not doing that again. Not for any readership numbers or viral engagement.” You stepped past her and set your bag down. “Mingyu and I barely recovered the first time. I’m not jeopardising it just to feed the same cycle.”

Keira exhaled. “Look, I get it. But you’ve only written light pieces lately, and this would be something—”

“I said no,” you interrupted. “I’ll write something else. But I’m not writing about Mingyu again.”

Keira stared at you for a beat, then slowly nodded. “Okay. I’m not going to push.” She turned toward the door. “You’ve just never turned down something like this before.”

You smiled tightly. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Later that evening, you stepped out of the cab just as you applied a final swipe of lip gloss. The buzz of the crowd outside the showcase venue was electric, pulsing with camera flashes and music.

“Ticket?” The security guard asked.

You froze. Your heart dropped.

“Oh no,” you muttered, scrambling through your bag. “Shit. Shit.”

The ticket was still on your desk at work.

“I left it at work,” you said to the guard. “I’m supposed to be inside.”

“Sorry, we’re at full capacity,” the guard replied. “No entry without a ticket.”

“I know, I just—let me make a call,” you muttered, stepping aside as you tried calling Mingyu. “Gyu, pick up,” you hissed. You tried again. And again. No answer.

So you sat on a nearby bench, watching the lights flicker from inside the venue. You played Candy Crush. Checked your texts. Nothing. You waited. One hour passed. Then another.

Eventually, you gave up.

You trudged back to your apartment, heels clicking against the pavement, still checking your phone with every step. You looked up and stopped in your tracks.

Mingyu was sitting on your doorstep with a bouquet of roses in hand.

“What the hell?” You said, completely thrown.

Mingyu looked up at you and smiled. “Hi to you, too.”

“You’ve been here?” You asked, bewildered.

“My phone died,” he said, rising to his feet. “I couldn’t get inside. I figured if I couldn’t find you, I’d wait.”

You stared at him, silent momentarily, before unlocking the door and heading inside. Mingyu followed, still holding the flowers.

Once in your room, you kicked off your heels with a sigh. “I forgot my ticket. It’s at work. I was texting you for two hours. And the whole time, you were just... here?”

Mingyu shifted awkwardly, holding out the bouquet. “I just wanted to spend the night with you. The showcase didn’t feel right without you there.”

You sat on the bed, tired. “Keira asked me to write about you again.”

Mingyu looked at you, curious. “What did you say?”

“I told her no. I told her I couldn’t. That I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu blinked. “You… you said no?”

You nodded. “Because I couldn’t be objective. And because I wouldn’t risk hurting you again. I want us to be real, Gyu. Not words on a page.”

He smiled slowly, his entire expression softening. “So… you said no to a cover story about me because you like me too much?”

You nodded. “And because I already did that once. I want this to be real.”

Mingyu stepped closer and handed you the roses. “They’re for you. I know I missed the performance. But I meant it when I said it didn’t matter.”

You smiled, placing the bouquet on your desk. “Please tell me you didn’t fight the bouncer.”

Mingyu laughed. “Almost. But I decided not to get banned from the venue.”

You sat down beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I spent the whole night wishing I could be in the crowd. But now I think… this is where I was supposed to be.”

Mingyu leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I get you to myself now anyway.”

You turned to face him, grinning. “I’m not mad about it.”

Mingyu smirked, kissing you again—slowly this time, with no audience, no cameras, no pressure.

Just you.

Mingyu's fingers gently threaded through your hair as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You smell like overpriced lip gloss and takeout,” he murmured. You grinned. “You smell like sweat and roses.”

“I showered,” he protested.

“I know. I was complimenting the roses.”

Mingyu laughed softly, his breath ghosting over your skin. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of your apartment and the way his hand moved lazily over your back.

“So,” he finally said, his voice low, “no more writing about me?”

You shook your head, “Nnope. No more story. No more experiments. Just us.”

“And if Keira offers you a book deal tomorrow?”

“I’ll say I’m not interested… unless it’s fiction.”

Mingyu raised a brow, smirking. “So if I show up in a smutty romance novel one day, should I be flattered or worried?”

You laughed, tucking your face into his neck. “Flattered. Very flattered.” “God, I want you, but I’m so tired. Can I first just cuddle you, darling?” Mingyu

“Yes. Let me just shower first.” You said as Mingyu nodded and started to strip, “You go first.” You smiled as you headed into the bathroom.

The water beat down over your shoulders as steam curled against the shower glass. You let yourself exhale, just a little, trying to shake off the day's weight. It was warm, soothing — the kind of shower that melted tension from your bones.

Mingyu didn’t mean to look at your open laptop, but his eyes landed on a word document with a few sentences, and he couldn’t help but notice the phrase “the most unlikely encounter.” His chest tightened as his mind raced, trying not to overthink. He took a deep breath, deciding to just simply ask you.

When you finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel and rubbing at your damp hair, you poked your head into the bedroom — and there he was, lying in your bed. You changed into a large shirt and joined him in bed.

You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, snuggling into him without hesitation. Mingyu’s lips curled into a fond smile. “Cute,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your forehead. You hummed contentedly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

“So,” Mingyu started, trying to sound casual, “are you working on anything new?” His tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity that made you look up at him.

“No,” you replied softly, nuzzling closer. Mingyu hummed again, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. Maybe he’d just misunderstood.

“Gyu,” you said, turning to meet his gaze, eyebrows slightly raised. “Why do you ask?”

“Just... curious.” He offered you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would you tell me if you were working on something new?” His voice was steady, but you could feel the subtle tension.

You smiled but faltered when he continued, “I saw your laptop earlier. Are you... writing another dating article? About me?”

You froze, heart thudding against your ribs. “You snooped?”

Mingyu’s expression shifted, jaw tightening. “No. Don’t you dare get defensive. I didn’t snoop. Your laptop was open, and I couldn’t help but see. What’s the article about?”

You sighed, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s just a fluff piece about dating. It’s got nothing to do with us.”

“Show me,” Mingyu said, voice a little firmer. You hesitated but eventually reached for your laptop, pulling up the document. You pointed to the part he’d seen. “See? It’s just about how people can meet in unexpected ways.”

Mingyu scanned the text, his frown softening. “Oh.” He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, guilt flickering across his face. You shut the laptop and pushed it to the side, lying back down.

He bit his lip, clearly unsure how to navigate his own feelings. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I should trust you, but... I have a reason to doubt. I just... I didn’t want to get blindsided again.”

You didn’t respond, your back still turned to him. Mingyu hesitated before calling your name again. “Y/N?” No answer. A little louder, he tried again. “Y/N?”

You finally turned, your glare cutting right through him. “What?” you muttered, clearly still irritated.

Mingyu softened, leaning back against the headboard. “Fair enough. I deserved that. I just... I got scared. But you’re right, you promised you wouldn’t lie, and I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.” His hand reached out, hesitant, but you eventually scooted closer, crawling into his lap.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you a little tighter than before, as if silently apologising. You huffed, the tension slowly dissipating as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Mingyu kissed the top of your head, murmuring, “I’m sorry for doubting you. I really am.”

You didn’t say anything, but the way you buried yourself deeper into his chest was enough for him to know you were ready to forgive.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice dropping. “What if I just show you how sorry I am?”

You pulled back with a smile. “I thought you were sore and drained from the showcase?”

“I was.” He leaned in to kiss you again, slower this time. “But you’re kind of a miracle cure.”

“I won’t hurt you again. I promise,” you said softly, crawling onto his lap.

Mingyu nodded quietly at your words, his eyes lingering on your face, then trailing down your bare skin pressed against his. “You know… not to kill the mood,” he murmured, “but you’re looking insanely gorgeous, and now you look so cosy and comfy? I’ve just wanted to take you from the second I saw you.”

You didn’t answer with words. You simply rolled your hips against him, slow and deliberate, watching the sharp exhale leave his chest.

“I guess we both have our priorities in order,” you teased, pressing your lips against his neck. “Let me take care of you, Gyu. Just… let me.”

You undressed quickly and Mingyu followed suit as both your clothes hit the floor in a trail behind them, until skin met skin and nothing else remained between you two. You then got back onto the bed, this time straddling him.

Mingyu’s breath caught. He nodded. “What—do you want to tie me up or something?”

You bit your lip, eyes gleaming with mischief as you reached for your bedside drawer. “Maybe.”

When you pulled out a pair of fluffy handcuffs, Mingyu blinked, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god, are those—?”

“I was a naughty tiger for Halloween once. Don’t ask.”

“Kinky,” he grinned, letting you cuff him to the headboard. “Very kinky.”

“You know what?” you smirked, sitting back on your heels. “Maybe you can just watch instead.”

Mingyu groaned in protest. “Wait—no. That’s just cruel. You said you’d take care of me.”

“I will, baby,” you murmured, settling between his legs with the vibrator in your hand. You spread your legs, deliberately letting him see the shine of your arousal. “Just not how you expected.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he rasped. “Please let me touch you.”

You leaned forward, close enough to kiss him, but didn’t. “I never pegged you for a whiny sub,” you whispered.

“Pun intended?” He muttered, breathless.

You laughed softly and straddled his lap, your lips finally brushing his. He kissed you back hungrily, groaning when you tugged his hair and slid, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Then you shifted your hips, letting your slick folds glide along his cock—slow, teasing pressure that made him writhe beneath you.

“Ah, fuck. Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“Gladly.” You sank down onto his cock in one slow, indulgent motion, watching his eyes flutter shut. You stayed still.

“Wait—why aren’t you moving?”

You turned on the vibrator and pressed it to your clit. “Because you’ll like this.”

Mingyu whimpered. “Fuck. You’re getting so wet. You’re clenching around me—baby, please—”

You reached for his face, kissed him softly. “Don’t move. You cum when I say.”

His eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling as you moaned louder and louder. You came first, your body shaking as you clenched around him, and he gasped as if he was about to break. You slowly lifted yourself off him, undoing the cuffs with care.

“Y/N,” he whined. “Please—baby—”

You smiled and pulled him into your arms, letting him rest his head against your chest. “Lean back, Gyu,” you whispered, stroking his cock with long, slow strokes. “I’ve got you.”

His moans were soft and desperate, his hands trembling on your thighs. When you brought the vibrator to his balls, he practically cried out. “So good. So fucking good—”

You kept your strokes steady, pressing kisses to his temple as you whispered, “Cum for me.”

He unravelled in your hands with a broken moan, your name leaving his lips like a prayer. His body shook from overstimulation, but you kept stroking him gently through it all.

“Too much,” he whimpered. “Fuck, too much.”

“Want me to stop?”

He shook his head. “No. But—fuck—I’m gonna cum again—”

And he did, spilling into your hands again, eyes screwed shut, mouth slack with pleasure. You kissed his shoulder and wiped him down gently, the moment soft and hazy.

“You made me cum twice,” he breathed, blinking up at you in wonder. “You’re unreal.”

“Tired?” You asked.

“Mm, nope, besides I still need to make sure you fall apart the way you made me.”

He didn’t let you think much flipping you over, and sliding his fingers into your soaked cunt. It didn’t take long, he the way he moved his fingers inside you and thumb rubbed your swollen cunt until you came again, hard, gasping his name as your body went limp.

“Gyu,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead before carrying you to the bathroom.

He sat you gently on the counter, filling the tub with way too many bubbles and bath salts. You smiled, too fucked out to tease him.

“Come here,” you pouted.

Without a word, he lifted you into the warm water and slid in behind you. You turned to lay on his chest, melting into his embrace as he gently washed you. When the bath was done, he dried you off, changed the sheets, and tucked you in with a soft kiss.

“Way too much cum on those sheets,” he muttered with a smirk.

You laughed sleepily, curling into his chest. “Gyu?”

He hummed, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” you mumbled.

His heart stopped for a second, but you were already asleep.

He groaned softly and kissed your forehead. “Please let that be real,” he whispered. “Please.”

The next morning, you barely noticed Mingyu’s presence behind you until his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into his warmth. His voice was low, almost sulky. “You left me alone.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his tone, still focused on scrambling eggs. “I’m making us breakfast.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Still, you’re cuddly,” he mumbled, holding you tighter, as if afraid you might slip away. You felt a gentle tug in your chest — the kind of ache that came with knowing someone wanted to hold on to you.

“Sit down, Gyu,” you whispered, squeezing his hands before nudging him towards the table. “I’ll plate this up.” He sighed dramatically but finally obliged, plopping down at the small kitchen table.

Mingyu glanced down at his grey sweats and smiled. “Glad I left these here,” he mused. “Otherwise, Joshua and Wonwoo would’ve gotten a free show.”

You smirked as you set the food in front of him. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

He shot you a look, lips curving upward despite himself. “Of course not. You can’t get enough of me.”

You shot him a playful glare before sitting down. “How do you feel?” Mingyu asked, his voice softer now, a little hesitant. “Last night was... a lot.”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Sore, but... a good sore.”

His eyes flickered with concern. “I didn’t go too far?”

You shook your head. “No. You were perfect.”

Relief softened his features, but he didn’t touch his food, just absentmindedly pushed it around on his plate. You furrowed your brows, leaning in closer. “Gyu? Why aren’t you eating?”

He hesitated, his shoulders tensing, as if he was waging a war with himself. “Just... thinking.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his. “About what?”

His fingers tightened around yours, and he looked at you with an unreadable expression. “You said something last night.”

Your stomach dropped. “What did I say?”

He pushed his plate away, his eyes fixated on the table. “You said you loved me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded against your ribs. “Oh, I... it didn’t mean anything.”

Mingyu’s gaze snapped to yours, hurt flickering through his eyes. “It didn’t mean anything?”

You could feel the air between you tighten, and you winced. “I mean... I just... it was in the heat of the moment, you know?” Your voice sounded small, and you hated how unconvincing you sounded.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. “No, I don’t know. I don’t know what you mean.”

Your hands were shaking, and you couldn’t meet his gaze. “I was about to say it back,” he admitted, softer now, like he was confessing a secret. “But you fell asleep. I thought... I thought I’d say it to you in the morning.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart squeezing painfully. “Isn’t it... too soon?” you whispered, trying to make sense of the turmoil in your chest.

His expression hardened. “Why? Do you need more dates to fall for me? More proof that I’m serious about you?”

Before you could answer, Joshua’s voice cut through the tension. “Hey, what’s going on? You two wouldn’t stop last night, and now you’re arguing?”

You hadn’t even realised how loud your voices had gotten. You figured Joshua probably popped into the kitchen concerned when he heard the raised voices. You gave Joshua a tight smile. “Nothing, just... a little misunderstanding.”

Mingyu scoffed bitterly, the sound sharp enough to cut. “Just like your confession, right?”

Joshua glanced between the two of you, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to stay composed. “It’s nothing, Joshua.”

Joshua hesitated, clearly worried. “Okay, well... I’ll be in my room.”

Once Joshua was gone, Mingyu’s shoulders slumped, the anger melting into something raw and vulnerable. “I was ready to say it. You think I’m impulsive? Maybe I am. I take risks. I believe in just saying how I feel. But you... you’re worse. You impulsively wrote a story about me, lied to me, and I still gave you a second chance. Why? Because I’m an idiot who fell in love with you.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Tears pricked your eyes, and you barely managed to breathe out, “Mingyu, I—”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I thought I’d wait until I could trust you again. But I’m starting to realise... I can’t. I can’t keep risking my heart like this. Not when I keep feeling like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Your voice came out shaky and small. “So... that’s it?”

He took a shaky breath, struggling to keep his composure. “I think... we’re done.”

Your legs felt weak as the reality of his words sank in. “Mingyu, please—”

He looked at you one last time, his face a mixture of heartbreak and resignation. “Don’t. I’ll get my clothes and go.”

You watched helplessly as he walked to your room, your mind racing with every possible way to fix this. When he returned, he stopped in front of you, his expression softer but still pained. “Take care, okay?” He hesitated, then pressed a light, lingering kiss to your forehead before turning and walking out the door.

You barely heard Joshua come out of his room, his face etched with concern. “Y/N?”

Your voice cracked as you whispered, “I think... I just got dumped.”

Joshua wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight as you sobbed into his shoulder. “It’s okay. Just let it out,” he whispered, his hand stroking your back gently.

Later, sprawled on the couch with Joshua and Wonwoo, you numbly took a sip of wine. “Is it a record to get dumped twice by the same guy in two months?”

Wonwoo sighed, pulling the bottle from your hands. “That’s enough. You’re just making it worse.”

You pouted at him. “Why aren’t you comforting me?”

Wonwoo’s expression hardened. “Because we’ve been doing that for months, and you keep repeating the same mistakes. You keep acting without thinking, and it’s hard to feel bad for you when you won’t own up to it.”

His words stung, but deep down, you knew he wasn’t wrong.

Joshua shot him a look. “Wonwoo, that’s a bit harsh.”

“No, it’s honest. She needs to hear it.” Wonwoo crossed his arms, refusing to back down. “Y/N, you said you loved him and took it back. That’s not fair to him.”

Your hands shook as you muttered, “Since you started dating Mia, you’ve only been on his side.”

Wonwoo huffed in frustration. “It’s not about sides. It’s about being honest with you because you keep hurting yourself and him. You never take responsibility. You just run away and play the victim.”

Joshua gave you a sympathetic look, but he didn’t disagree. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the problem all along.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your chest felt tight, and your throat burned from holding back the sob threatening to break free. The truth in Wonwoo’s words hurt, but not because they were harsh — they were just real. It was one thing to mess up repeatedly, but another to have someone you cared about lay it all out so plainly. You felt exposed, raw, and more than anything, ashamed.

Joshua glanced between you and Wonwoo, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. I know it feels like a lot right now, but maybe some space will help. Just... think about it, okay?”

You nodded numbly, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. I just... I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Wonwoo’s tone softened just a fraction. “Take some time. Figure out what you actually want. Stop acting on impulse and hurting the people around you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Instead, you slowly got up, murmuring something about needing air. Neither of them stopped you. You ended up in your room, the door closed behind you, finally allowing the tears to flow freely. You felt like you couldn’t breathe — like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You hated feeling this way — guilty, embarrassed, so painfully aware of your own flaws.

For the next two days, you avoided everyone. You could hear the occasional muffled conversations through the walls, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face them. You couldn’t face yourself. You spent most of your time in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling or scrolling through your phone without really looking at anything.

You replayed the scene over and over in your head — the way Wonwoo’s voice had cracked just a little when he told you how hard it was to be your friend. You’d never considered that before — that you could be difficult to be around. Sure, you’d made mistakes, but it had never felt this bad, this suffocating. You wished you could rewind time, take back the careless words and the impulsive actions.

Eventually, the suffocating feeling became too much. You needed to get out, get away from the constant reminder of your mistakes. So, you decided to go home — to your family. A change of scenery, even for a little while.

Because just maybe, you thought, distance could help you all heal.

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alienpossession · 5 months ago

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The Shell: The Landing

The right landing should have delivered us right on the doorstep of the townhall of the small town, where we would quickly encounter all sort of human that probably gathered right away to observe us upon our landing.

We would then utilize that opportunity to paralyze them with our venom, gather their DNA, absorb it to our system and built our human shell that copied the townspeople for the perfect integration as we would then dispose their vegetative bodies. But, we instead landed off the town's border due to the rookie that probably put the wrong coordinate which resulted in us stranded in this forest and in human measurement, some 35 kilometres off from our supposed landing spot. That distance is a very miniscule one compared to the intergalactic journey we went through, but for human measurement, that's like a major miss and we ensured that we will relay this message once we are in contact with Mothership that stationed just outside Earth's orbit. The next batch should not experience this unfortunate circumstances

Yet, despite the isolation, we still managed to find a lot of traces of human existence among this wooded path. Sadly, it's not consistent enough to be extracted as a basis to build our shell as most of them tend to be sweat and urine instead of blood, saliva or sperm which has higher DNA consistency. But it's a huge wooded landscape and with that much human traces already, we kept our belief that we will find the necessary DNA source eventually.

After around 30 minutes, we finally found what we're looking for. It's near a structure we learned as a tent and there, we found copious amount of sperm and other things right next to a tree and basically spread around the area. As the one responsible for this pack, I decided to be the first one to initiate this whole thing so I absorbed all the DNA, hair, saliva and practically anything I could find in the perimeter and let the process kickstarted. I can feel my liquid form enlarged and started to harden as I emitted all the information I received from the sources to create the perfect human replica. The flashes of image I received about this human source sharpened the imitation to its finest details. I started from the head as we were taught in our academy to always form the brain and the head first because that's where we will control the shell from. This human has quite an angular facial feature peppered with shaved facial hair based on the genetic data. He has no inherited diseases whatsoever so I take the liberty to assume that this is a healthy person which means that he probably has decent built. The average height of the human in the area where we supposedly landed is around 6 feet tall so that's the height I set my shell to be. But everything becomes much more easier as this human all in a sudden walked out from his tent and started calling out another name

"Colin, is that you?" He faintly whispered. Did I and the pack make too much noise? Well, creating a shell is not necessarily a quiet process as we're practically building a skin but we believe we've been very quiet. Then, an animal we know called as deer appeared but the human seemed to not be that startled. Yet, just a glimpse of his look helped me to really fine-tune everything to perfection. I reshaped my shell's abdominal and pectoral muscle to be tighter and imprinted the ink I saw on the human. The taut legs and tight yet bubbly glutes followed suit alongside the hair on his legs and shaved pubic hair. I also notice the scars in his back and right above his ass crack and make his intricate web of veins that carried the blood to energized his body more visible in my shell to really match his. The final creation is the sexual appendage of the male human and despite not seeing it in full frontal form from the owner, I make an educated guess from the bulge he sported earlier and let the meat formed itself to become a 6.5 inches soft, uncut cock with a large grape-sized sperm glands or human usually called it as balls. It's modifiable after all, so no need to get it perfect on the first go

As I then take the time to create all the internal organs and placed myself to wrap this imitation brain of this shell like a cocoon, this shell is finally ready so I stand up and happily grinned looking at the rest of the pack

"Wait here, okay? All of you will have your turn coming,"

He's already back inside his tent when I stand up, so I slowly creep myself to ambush him before that Colin person comes back. He's sleeping naked with his ass on full display inside his tent, the fuzziness and arch of his ass inspired me to alter my shell right then and there for a perfect copy and before he's aware, I lunged right at him and started to circle my muscular forearm to choke him. We battled hard as he flailed around trying to get himself free, but I locked his neck and legs way too tight for him to get out from. When his body goes limp, I finalized the tiny details I failed to get by altering my shell before I enacted the final replication process. As my shell goes limp without me in control, I inserted myself to his brain to gather all information needed. It's a rather quick process as I simply wrap myself around his soon-to-be useless brain and absorbed all the information about.......Ryle Adams. Then, I slide out from his brain and entered my Ryle shell to then inject the memory to the mush of a brain of the shell so I can pass myself on as Ryle Adams with ease and also making this body able to function autopilot even when I'm not inside of him, a perfectly seamless integration

Now, time to clean up the old Ryle and prepare for Colin's arrival after his fishing duty. Maybe to make the replication easy, I should just stuff one member of the pack into Colin's brain, so once it gets out, it can simply replicate everything without making guesses or adjustment. Yeah, that sounds easier to be honest.....

#the shell #alien transformation #alien tf #alien shapeshift #alien clones

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: Oh Lights Go Down, In The Moment We're Lost And Found

Summary: After multiple failed attempts at retirement, you keep getting pulled back into action by Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Despite the constant bickering and teasing, there’s an undeniable tension between you and Bucky—something everyone else sees except the two of you.

When a new threat involving stolen Inhuman tech emerges, you reluctantly join Bucky and Sam for one more mission. As the stakes rise, your playful banter with Bucky deepens into something more, and the emotional walls you’ve both built finally begin to crumble.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Smut.

It was one of those perfect days—the kind where the sun streamed in through the open kitchen window, warm and golden, making everything feel just a little bit softer. The faint hum of the city was distant but present, a reminder of the world outside your quiet little corner. The breeze carried in the scent of blooming jasmine, and you were happily chopping vegetables, pretending—for just a moment—that you were just an ordinary person, living an ordinary life.

But, of course, that illusion was shattered by the two men currently sitting at your kitchen table.

“You’ve been retired what? Three times now? Or is it four?” Sam Wilson asked, his voice full of teasing amusement.

“I think it’s three,” Bucky Barnes replied, deadpan, not even bothering to look up from where he was unceremoniously slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you turned from the counter. Sam was lounging back in his chair, arms behind his head, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Bucky—ever the grump—was giving you that familiar raised eyebrow, though there was a glint of something in his blue eyes that suggested he was enjoying this more than he let on.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, you cocked a hip and pointed your knife at them. “I’d still be happily retired after the first time if a certain bird brain and tin man would stop knocking on my door and learn how to handle their issues without me holding their hand every time.”

“Oof.” Sam put a hand to his chest and gave you a mock wounded look. “That’s cold.”

Bucky, unbothered, just smirked. “You’re not wrong.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to the cutting board, the rhythmic chop, chop, chop of the knife filling the brief silence. “It’s true though, isn’t it?” you called over your shoulder, not letting them off the hook just yet. “Let’s review, shall we?"

You held up a finger, turning slightly to glance at them. “The Flag Smashers. You two could’ve handled that without me. No problem.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. And who was it who saved your ass when you got blown off that truck?”

“I had it under control!” you shot back, but the grin on your face gave you away.

“Right,” Bucky muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Looked real ‘under control’ when you were flying face-first into traffic.”

You snorted but continued your list, holding up a second finger. “Then there was that terrorism thing in Cairo. Again, easy pickings. You didn’t really need me for that.”

Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I dunno, I seem to remember you saying something about ‘missing the thrill’ when you punched that guy through a brick wall.”

You paused, remembering the satisfying crunch of stone under your knuckles. “Okay, maybe I missed it a little,” you admitted with a shrug, “but that’s not the point.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, but he stayed silent, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always wore when you got into these conversations—half annoyed, half amused, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“And then,” you continued, holding up a third finger, “there was that mutant with the glowy cards and the cool accent who was doing all those heists in New Orleans.” You paused for dramatic effect, stabbing the knife into the cutting board. “Now, I’ll admit, that one was a bit... sticky.”

Bucky snorted softly. “A bit?”

Sam gave you a pointed look. ”He blew your ass to hell.”

You gave Sam a grin. “And I still managed to get his number afterwards,” you turned to look at both of them “But the point still stands—you two are perfectly capable without me.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Yeah, maybe. But things are more fun with you around.” He winked, leaning back in his chair again.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you turned back to the vegetables. “I’m not here for your entertainment, Sam. I’m retired. Retired,” you emphasized, as if you hadn’t had this exact argument before.

Bucky finally chimed in, his voice dry as ever. “You keep saying that, but here you are. Again. Inviting us inside.”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t feel obliged to if you two weren’t so damn persistent.”

Sam folded his arms across his chest with a smirk. “Persistent? Is that what we’re calling it now? I thought you liked the action.”

You pointed the knife at him, eyes narrowing. “I like peace and quiet, Wilson. Two things I seem to get a lot less of whenever you two show up at my door.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sam quipped, grinning. “You light up every time we drag you back in.”

Before you could fire back, Bucky gave a small snort and muttered under his breath, “You love doing this.” Your eyes flicked to Bucky in surprise. There was something in his tone—something so confident, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. The bastard probably wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Instead, you shot him a mock glare, trying to keep your voice as dry as possible.

“I love retirement, Barnes. You should try it sometime,” you retorted, pointing your knife at him for emphasis. “I even have an actual job now. You know, normal people stuff.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile—one of those rare, fleeting things you only caught when he wasn’t trying so hard to be the world’s grumpiest super-soldier. “Not my style,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “Clearly.”

Sam, who had been watching the two of you with an amused smirk, cleared his throat loudly, cutting through the banter. “Anyway, we didn’t come here to talk about your third failed retirement,” he said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye, “Anyway, I’m still waiting for my invitation to come over for dinner one night now that you have all this time on your hands.”

“You’re not getting one,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “And besides since when do you two just casually drop by my house on a perfectly good Saturday?” Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he gave you a pointed look. “Fury called me,” he said, his tone casual but carrying that undercurrent of ‘you know where this is going.’

You arched an eyebrow, glancing over your shoulder as you continued slicing vegetables. “Oh yeah?” you said, clearly unimpressed. “And what does Ex- Director Fury want this time?”

Sam’s smirk widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Apparently, you’re not picking up the phone. He’s been trying to get ahold of you.”

You scoffed, not even bothering to look at him as you tossed the chopped peppers into a bowl. “Yeah, because, again, I’m retired, Sam. Retired as in ‘not doing whatever he wants me to.’” You punctuated the sentence by slicing into a tomato with a little more force than necessary.

Sam chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “You might wanna reconsider picking up the phone this time.”

You paused, glancing at him with a skeptical look. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Sam exchanged a brief glance with Bucky before turning back to you. “Someone’s been stealing Inhuman tech—experimental stuff.” His usual lighthearted tone was gone, replaced by something serious. “It’s not just some minor operation either. Whoever’s behind this is organized. Big time.”

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, as if the weight of what Sam was saying wasn’t already sitting heavy in the pit of your stomach. “And what does that have to do with me?” you asked, your voice steady, though your mind was racing.

Bucky, who had been leaning back with his arms crossed, quietly watching the conversation unfold with his usual stoic expression, finally raised an eyebrow. That subtle shift in his demeanor said more than words ever could. He’d always been the silent type, but after everything you’d been through together, you could read his moods with almost unnerving precision. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out, huh?” His voice was low, carrying that familiar gravelly edge, but there was something else there too. A challenge.

You turned to him, already fighting the grin that was pulling at the corners of your mouth. There was always this tension between you two, a strange mix of camaraderie, banter, and something deeper that neither of you ever fully addressed. You leaned casually against the counter, crossing your arms, meeting his gaze with a wide-eyed, innocent look that you knew would get under his skin. “Uh huh,” you nodded slowly, clearly enjoying the moment. “Because you know what I’m going to say.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, and for a fleeting second, you thought he might actually smile—one of those rare, almost disarming smiles that made your stomach clench and your heart stutter. “You’re going to say you’re retired,” Bucky deadpanned, though you could hear the faintest edge of frustration in his voice. He knew you too well by now, knew the games you liked to play when you didn’t want to be dragged into something.

You pointed at him with the knife you’d been using, your grin widening in triumph. “Exactly,” you said, savoring the moment.

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright, we get it. You’re retired. But this isn’t just some random mess we’re asking you to clean up. This is big. And it’s gonna get worse if no one steps in.”

You tilted your head, still playing coy, the edge of mischievousness in your voice. “And you two can’t handle it? I mean, you’re Captain America and the Winter Soldier,” you said, gesturing lazily toward them with the knife, before going back to slicing. “Seems like you’ve got things under control.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel the shift in the air between you. His tone dropped, that low, no-nonsense voice he used when he wasn’t in the mood for games. “It’s not about whether we can handle it. It’s about what’s coming, and the fact that you’re in the crosshairs whether you like it or not.”

You paused, your hand hovering over the apple for a split second, the playful façade slipping just a little. The truth in his words hit harder than you wanted to admit. You’d been out of the game for a while, sure, but that didn’t mean the game was done with you. And if Bucky was worried—really worried—then you knew this was serious. He didn’t show fear, not easily.

Your eyes met his again, and there it was—that unspoken connection. You trusted him with your life, had done so countless times before, from that first chaotic fight in Bucharest to every mission since. He’d saved you more times than you could count, and you’d done the same for him. But it was more than that. After every battle, every moment where it felt like the world might crumble, it was Bucky who sat beside you in the quiet, his presence a steady reminder that you weren’t alone in this “Crosshairs?” you repeated, your voice softening just a fraction, though the tension in the room seemed to coil tighter.

Sam nodded, his tone quieter now, but still sharp with purpose. “If they’re stealing Inhuman tech, it’s only a matter of time before they come for the source. People like you.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in slowly, wrapping around you like an uncomfortable blanket. You wanted to roll your eyes, to laugh it off, to tell them both you weren’t interested. But deep down, you already knew where this was headed. You always did. It was the same old tune, the same pull of inevitability. They came to you when things got bad, and this time, it sounded worse than usual.

Still, old habits died hard, and you weren’t about to make it easy for them. You never did.

“So, let me get this straight,” you said, raising a hand as if to clarify, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. “You two are here because someone’s stealing tech, and now you think I’m some kind of target?”

As you spoke, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Bucky leaned forward slightly, the intensity in his gaze pinning you in place before you could look away. His eyes—usually so guarded, so stoic—held a flicker of something different. Something raw. Fear. The sight of it made your chest tighten.

“We don’t think,” Bucky said, his voice low, almost strained. “We know.”

For a second, the air seemed to shift as the room narrowed around just the two of you. That flicker of fear in Bucky’s eyes, so out of place on someone like him—someone who had seen more war, more blood, more death than you could ever imagine—hit you harder than you expected. You could handle your own fear, push it down, bury it deep where it couldn’t reach you. But seeing it in him? That was something else entirely.

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “Of course you do,” you muttered, dropping your hand and crossing your arms again, leaning back against the counter. You could feel the tension rolling off Bucky in waves, but you weren’t ready to let them drag you into this. Not yet. “And let me guess, Fury wants me to do something about it?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair, giving you a look that was a mix of apology and expectation. The kind of look that told you everything you needed to know, with just a hint of regret. “It’s not just Fury,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You know we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t need you.”

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped you, shaking your head in disbelief. “You two realize how ridiculous this is, right? I’ve been out of the game for how long now? And suddenly I’m supposed to jump back in because Fury says so?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening as he leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest in that familiar, defensive posture. You knew that look. The one he used when things were getting serious—when he was drawing a line in the sand. “It’s not about Fury,” he said, his voice edged with a quiet intensity. “It’s about protecting people. And you know that.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, the kitchen felt smaller, quieter. The intensity in his eyes was enough to make your stomach twist, the weight of his gaze settling over you like a storm cloud. Bucky wasn’t one to dance around the truth, and you knew that. He was right, of course. He always was when it came to this kind of thing, and it irritated you to no end. But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

You wanted to argue, to push back, but the words caught in your throat. Because deep down, you knew what he was saying was true. You always did.

Sam stood up from the table, walking over to where you were standing. His expression softened as he spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Look, we’re not asking you to suit up and start playing hero again,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours with that maddening calm that always made him seem so reasonable. “But this is bigger than just a couple of stolen gadgets. If they’re after Inhumans, you’re not gonna be able to sit this one out.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, the familiar pull of responsibility growing heavier with every word, pressing down on your shoulders like it always did. Sam had this infuriating way of making things sound so logical, so reasonable, and yet utterly impossible to refuse. It was like he knew exactly which buttons to push, how to make you see the bigger picture.

Bucky didn’t even need to say a word. The fear you’d seen in his eyes earlier still lingered, a shadow that hadn’t quite gone away. It wasn’t something you were used to seeing from him—Bucky, who had stared down gods and monsters without flinching. But if he was worried, *really* worried, then this was far worse than they were letting on. You could feel it in the air, the way neither he nor Sam had cracked a joke, hadn’t tried to lighten the mood even once. This was serious. And if they were here, asking for your help, it meant they were out of options.

You let out a long, resigned breath, feeling the weight of their silent expectations pressing down on you. “I’m not un-retiring,” you finally said, holding up a hand in warning, preemptively stopping any celebrations before they even started. “This is just a favor.”

Bucky stood, his expression softening just a fraction. You could see it—how hard he was trying to hide the flicker of relief that crossed his face. But you caught it. He was too easy to read, at least for you. “Right,” he said, his voice quieter but steady. “Just a favor.”

You shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly. A favor,” you repeated, making sure he knew where you stood on this.

Sam, clearly feeling the shift in the room, clapped you on the shoulder, a wide, triumphant grin spreading across his face. “See? We knew you couldn’t resist,” he said, his tone smug, as if he’d just won a bet.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you turned back to the counter, picking up your knife to finish chopping the vegetables you’d abandoned earlier. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. After this, I’m going back to my actual job. You know, the one that doesn’t involve me getting shot at.”

Sam snorted, leaning casually against the kitchen island, arms crossed, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, one that said, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, but Sam just grinned wider. It wasn’t the first time you’d tried to retire, and he damn well knew it. He also knew how impossible it was for you to stay away whenever things went south.

Bucky, now standing with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, leaned back against the wall, giving you a sidelong glance. His voice was low, teasing, though there was an undercurrent of truth in it. “You won’t stay gone for too long. You never do.”

You paused, the knife hovering over the cutting board for a second longer than necessary, letting his words hang in the air. He wasn’t wrong, and you both knew it. It wasn’t the first time you’d tried to step away from the chaos, and it wouldn’t be the first time you got pulled back in. But that didn’t mean you had to admit it aloud.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered under your breath, not looking up as you resumed chopping. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

Sam chuckled, pushing off the counter to grab an apple from the fruit bowl. “Oh, we’re ahead of ourselves? You were ‘retired’ for what, two years before you got involved with S.W.O.R.D.?” He took a bite of the apple, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shot him a dry look, not stopping your chopping. “Oh, that was a mistake and a half. Ever been mindfucked by a grieving woman who can rewrite reality on a whim? Not exactly on my Top Ten list of fun experiences,” you grumbled, the memory still a sore spot. “Definitely not a fan.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, still chewing, clearly enjoying the banter. “And how long did you swear off helping people after that? Because if I remember right, you said you were done—and then, what happened? I asked you to help with the Flag Smashers, and next thing I know, you’re right back in it. Then someone else came knocking, and BAM, there you go again.”

You glared at him, pointing the knife in his direction, the sharp edge glinting under the kitchen light. “All you’re proving to me,” you said, deadpan, “is that I’m a pushover who can’t set boundaries.”

Sam nearly choked on his apple as he laughed. “Pushover? Nah. You’re just bad at saying no when it counts.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Bucky cut in before you had the chance. His voice was calm, though you could hear the teasing edge in it. “Come on, Sam. Give her some credit. She lasted a whole eight months this time.”

You narrowed your eyes at Bucky, but he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on Sam, the corner of his mouth twitching in that almost-smile he tried to hide. He was joking—he always did when things got tense—but there was something else in his eyes. That glint of worry he couldn’t quite mask, even behind the banter. It was subtle, but you’d learned how to read him, how to see the way his shoulders tightened when he was anxious, the way his brow furrowed when he was thinking too hard. And despite his attempt to keep things light, you could tell this mission wasn’t sitting right with him. He was worried—about you.

“Eight months is impressive,” Sam chimed in, nodding sagely, as if you weren’t standing right there. “I mean, that’s gotta be some kind of record, right? For someone who’s addicted to saving the world?”

You groaned, setting the knife down with a little more force than necessary. “You two are the worst,” you muttered, but the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You couldn’t stay mad at them, not really. “I should never have let you in.”

Bucky gave you a knowing look, his voice soft but still teasing. “You didn’t really have a choice. We would’ve just broken in.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was something about the way he said it, the way his voice softened around the edges when he was talking to you. It made your heart skip, just for a moment, a flicker of something more beneath the surface. You’d known Bucky for a long time now—long enough to understand the walls he kept up, the distance he tried to maintain. But lately, there had been cracks in those walls. Little moments where the tension between you wasn’t just about the mission, or the danger, or even the banter. It was something deeper, something you hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with.

“Exactly,” Sam said, grinning as he leaned casually against the counter. “You can’t get rid of us that easily.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to focus on anything but the way Bucky’s presence seemed to fill the room. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Bucky’s expression softened, just enough for you to notice. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you both ever so slightly. His voice dropped a little lower, and there was a quiet sincerity in his words that made your heart do that annoying little flip again. “It is a good thing. Because you know we’d do the same for you.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, yet layered with meaning, made warmth spread through your chest. You knew he would. You didn’t doubt it for a second. Bucky wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and when it came to you, he always seemed to mean more than he actually said. You’d felt it in the way he looked at you after missions, the way his hand lingered on your arm just a little too long when he was checking to see if you were okay. The way his gaze would soften, as if he was seeing something in you that even you hadn’t fully grasped.

“Yeah, well,” you said, tearing your eyes away from his intense gaze and looking back down at the cutting board. You needed a distraction, something to ground you before you lost yourself in whatever was simmering between you and Bucky. “Just don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

Sam chuckled from his spot by the counter. “Don’t worry. We’ll send you a postcard when we’re out saving the world.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into that almost-smile again, and for a brief second, the tension that had been weighing down the room seemed to lift. His eyes lingered on you, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze even with your back turned. It was like he was saying something without saying anything at all. And it made you wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like if you just stopped pretending there wasn’t something more between you.

“Sure,” you said, the sarcasm thick in your voice. “I’ll frame it.”

Sam grinned, tossing the apple core into the trash with a smirk. “Even better. You can hang it next to your retirement papers.”

You groaned, turning back to the vegetables, the familiar banter easing some of the tension in your chest. “I hate you both.”

But as you went back to chopping, the knife moving rhythmically over the cutting board, you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting back to Bucky. The way he’d looked at you just a moment ago, his expression soft, his voice low and full of unspoken promises. It was ridiculous, really. You were supposed to be retired, supposed to be out of this life. Yet here you were, roped back in by the same people who always pulled you under—and by the man who, despite all your best efforts, had found a way into your heart.

Because the truth was, you didn’t really hate them. Not even close.

And when it came to Bucky, you weren’t sure you could ever stay away. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself this was just another mission, another favor, something about him always pulled you back in. It was frustrating—but also undeniable.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the warm, fuzzy feelings creeping into your chest. The last thing you needed was to get all sentimental in front of them. “Alright, enough with the bromance,” you said, your voice cutting through the air, aiming to bring things back to the task at hand. “What’s the plan?”

Sam straightened up immediately, slipping back into his familiar role with ease. He was all business again, though the grin from your little exchange hadn’t quite left his face. “We’ll brief you on the way. Fury’s got intel, and we’ve already got a lead on where they’re keeping the stolen tech.”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing between the two of them as if the absurdity of the situation had just dawned on you. “Oh, you’re ready to go right now?” There was a playful incredulity in your voice, as if the sheer audacity of them showing up at your doorstep and expecting you to drop everything hadn’t fully hit you until this moment.

Bucky shrugged, utterly unfazed, his tone casual. “No better time than the present.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, pointing to the food on the counter as you turned back toward the stove. “I’m cooking, Barnes. I’m not wasting this. Saving the world can wait until I’ve finished dinner.” You waved a hand dismissively, like the fate of the world was no bigger than an afternoon errand. “Pull up a chair,” you added, turning back to the chopping board, resuming your task as if you hadn’t just agreed to help them thwart a major global threat.

Behind you, Sam and Bucky exchanged a look. Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he passed Bucky a knowing grin—the kind that said, See? Told you she’d come around. Bucky, for his part, gave Sam a small, soft smile in return, one of those rare, almost imperceptible expressions that only those really close to him would ever notice.

They missed you. And now that they were here, in your kitchen, it was more apparent than ever.

“Well, you heard the lady,” Sam said, pulling out a chair and plopping down at your kitchen table, clearly amused by the sudden shift in pace. “Guess saving the world can wait for dinner.”

Bucky, after a moment’s hesitation, followed suit, settling into the chair beside Sam. His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than usual, something unspoken passing between the three of you as the earlier tension faded into something warmer—something more familiar. “You always did have your priorities straight,” he muttered, his voice teasing, but with a hint of genuine admiration.

“Damn right,” you replied without missing a beat, not looking up from your task as you tossed some vegetables into the pan. The sizzle filled the quiet as you added, “I’m not about to burn a perfectly good meal just because Fury’s got his knickers in a twist.”

You could hear Sam chuckling behind you, and you imagined the way he was probably shaking his head—half-amused, half-impressed by your ability to turn life-threatening situations into something routine.

“So, what are we having?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair, clearly settling in for the long haul now that dinner was on the agenda.

You shrugged as you stirred the pan. “Stir-fry. Something simple.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’ve gone soft. I seem to remember you used to cook meals that could feed an army.”

You threw a look over your shoulder at him, your eyes narrowing playfully. “That was back when I was an army. Now I’m just a humble civilian, remember?”

Sam snorted, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, right. ‘Humble civilian’ my ass.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you turned back to the stove. “Believe what you want, Wilson. I’m retired. This is me living the quiet life. I even mowed my lawn the other week.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, giving you a long, considering look. His gaze was steady, unblinking, as if he were trying to read between the lines of your words. “You’re really gonna stick with that story, huh?”

You waved the spatula at him, eyes narrowing again, but this time there was a playful edge to it. “I told you already: this is just a favor. One time only.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into that almost-smile again, this one more visible than the last. He leaned forward slightly, casting a quick glance at Sam before turning back to you. “You know we don’t believe that for a second.”

Your eyes flicked up from the pan, meeting Bucky’s for a brief, charged moment. There was something about the way he looked at you—something that made your heart beat just a little faster. You hated how easily he could do that to you, how effortlessly he could make you feel like the world outside didn’t matter as much as the small, quiet moments like this.

But you couldn’t let him know that. Not yet.

“Believe what you want,” you said, turning back to the stove with a shrug that you hoped looked more nonchalant than you felt. “I’m not getting dragged back into this mess for good.”

Sam, ever the opportunist, jumped in with a grin. “Sure, sure. And next week, when one of your buddies call, I’m sure you’ll be… what? Mowing the lawn again?”

You shot him a look. “I’m serious, Sam.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not convinced. “Just like you were serious when you said you were done after getting shot in Madripoor.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Bucky beat you to it, his voice cutting in with that same calm, steady reassurance. “Just a favor. We get it.” His tone was teasing, but there was something behind it—something softer, like he was trying to meet you halfway.

Your eyes met his again, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, more intimate. There was a warmth in his gaze that made you feel seen in a way you weren’t sure you were ready for. It was the kind of look that made you want to say more than you should, the kind of look that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more than friendship between you two. Something you’d both been dancing around for far too long.

But before you could say anything, Sam’s voice broke the moment. “So, what’s for dessert?”

You blinked, the spell broken, and turned back to the stove with a sigh of exaggerated exasperation. “Dessert? I’m already feeding you dinner, Wilson. What more do you want?”

Sam grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Just checking. You know, in case we need to carbo-load for the world-saving we’re doing after this.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes still lingering on you for just a second longer before he leaned back in his chair as well, arms crossed. “If she’s making dessert, we’ll be here all night.”

You shot them both a look. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you both out yet.”

But the truth was, you liked having them here. You liked the way Sam’s laugh filled the room, bringing with it a familiar sense of ease, and the way Bucky’s quiet, steady presence grounded you, even when he wasn’t saying much. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, but comforting—a reminder that some bonds didn’t need words. You liked the way this felt—like home. And maybe that was the real reason you could never stay away.

Because when it came to Bucky—and Sam, too, if you were being honest—it wasn’t just about the missions, or the thrill of saving the world. They weren’t just your team. They were your family.

Even if you’d never admit that out loud.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, the only sound the soft sizzle of the food cooking and the rhythmic clinking of utensils against plates. The smell of stir-fry filled the kitchen, warm and inviting, and for a few minutes, it almost felt like the old days—back before everything got so complicated. Before you’d decided to walk away. The banter, the easy camaraderie, the way you fit together like puzzle pieces—it was all still there, just buried under layers of time and distance, waiting for moments like this to resurface.

As you plated the food and set it down in front of them, you couldn’t help but glance between Sam and Bucky, feeling that familiar, strange warmth again. There was something about seeing them here, sitting at your table, that stirred something deep inside you.

And maybe—just maybe—you’d missed the thrill, too. The adrenaline, the missions, the way the world always seemed like it was on the brink of something big, and you were the one who could tip the scales. You had walked away from it all, but now, standing here with them, it didn’t seem quite as distant as it once had. It felt close, tangible, like it was pulling you back in before you even realized it.

Sam took a bite, nodding in approval. “Not bad. Definitely better than MREs.”

Bucky grunted his agreement, though he was already halfway through his plate, eating with the quiet efficiency of a man who’d spent too many years not knowing where his next meal would come from. You watched the two of them for a moment, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed, suddenly feeling like an outsider in your own kitchen. But it wasn’t a bad feeling—it was one of contentment, of seeing the people you care about in a rare moment of peace.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “are you two gonna brief me, or are you just here for the free food?”

Sam wiped his mouth, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Oh, we’ll brief you. But first…” He paused, his expression shifting slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something more genuine. “Thanks for this. For helping. We know it’s not easy being dragged back in.”

Bucky, who had been quiet as usual, nodded, his gaze meeting yours. His expression was softer than it usually was—unguarded, almost vulnerable, in that way he sometimes got when he was trying to say something he wasn’t quite sure how to put into words. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low but sincere. “We appreciate it.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal, though the warmth in your chest told a different story. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not un-retired, remember? This is just a one-time thing.”

Bucky caught your eye, and for a moment, something passed between you—something unspoken, something you weren’t ready to acknowledge just yet. His expression was unreadable, but there was a challenge in his gaze, a quiet understanding that made your heart skip a beat. “Sure,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Whatever you say.”

There it was again—that invisible pull between the two of you, the one that had been there for as long as you could remember. It was subtle, but undeniable, like the gravity that kept you orbiting around each other, no matter how hard you tried to break free. You could tell yourself this was just a favor, just one mission, but deep down, you knew better. You knew that Bucky’s presence in your life was something you could never fully walk away from.

Sam chuckled, pushing his empty plate aside. “Alright, let’s get to it. Here’s what we know…”

As they began to lay out the details of the mission—Fury’s intel, the stolen tech, the possible locations—you listened intently, your brain shifting into tactical mode almost immediately. It was like slipping into an old, well-worn jacket. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—the strategizing, the planning, the feeling that you were part of something bigger than yourself.

But even as you focused on the details, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t going to be as ‘one-time only’ as you’d planned.

Because the truth was, you liked this. You liked the way Sam’s voice filled the space, the way Bucky’s quiet presence anchored you. You liked the sense of purpose that came with being part of something this important, and the way you felt like you belonged when you were with them.

Maybe you were exactly where you needed to be.

And as Bucky’s eyes flicked over to you again, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same. <><><><><><> The night air was crisp, the kind of cold that settled in your bones, made worse by the biting wind that whispered through the trees. The cabin where Nick Fury was staying loomed ahead, isolated and quiet, nestled deep in the woods. It was larger than you expected—more of a lodge than a cabin really—with dark wooden beams and wide windows that reflected the sliver of moonlight hanging overhead. The gravel driveway crunched beneath your feet as you stepped out of the car, the sound jarring in the otherwise still night.

“Four and a half hours I’ve just spent in that car with the two of you,” Bucky began, pulling your duffle bag out of the trunk with more force than necessary. His breath came out in misty puffs, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as he spoke. “I keep forgetting how much of a nightmare it is.”

You climbed out of the passenger seat, stretching your legs as the cold air hit your face. “What? You saying my singing’s bad?” There was a feigned offense in your voice, but Bucky’s expression didn’t soften.

“I’m saying in the kindest way possible to not quit your day job,” Bucky replied, slamming the trunk shut with a thud that echoed into the night.

Sam, ever the mediator, moved around to stand beside you, his boots crunching on the gravel as he grinned. “Hey, I think it was great.”

You smiled, grateful for the support. “Thank you.”

“Talent recognizes talent,” Sam continued, with a smugness that made you laugh out loud.

Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he slung your bag over his shoulder. “If you two are done patting each other on the back, Fury’s waiting.”

The three of you made your way toward the cabin, the soft glow of a light from inside spilling onto the porch. The door was solid, old wood, and the cabin itself had a rugged charm to it, like something out of a survivalist’s dream. It was the kind of place that felt cut off from the rest of the world—a perfect hideaway for someone like Fury. Away from prying eyes, away from the chaos of the world he spent so much time trying to control.

You hadn’t seen Nick Fury since Tony Stark’s funeral. That day had been a blur of pain, loss, and finality—a day that felt like the end of an era. The memory of it was still heavy in your chest, the weight of it never fully lifting. You’d slipped away after the service, disappearing into the background, telling yourself you were done. Done with the missions, the wars, the endless fighting. You deserved peace, you told yourself. You deserved to walk away.

But now, standing outside Fury’s door, that certainty felt like a distant memory.

You paused on the porch, your hand hovering just above the railing as you glanced back at Sam and Bucky. The two of them were already making their way up the steps, their shoulders brushing as they moved in sync, like they had done this a thousand times before. You, on the other hand, felt a strange tightness in your chest. This wasn’t just another mission. This was Fury. The man who always seemed to have a plan, who always saw the world through a lens of strategy and sacrifice. You respected him, sure, but you weren’t blind to the way he moved people like chess pieces, manipulating the board without ever asking for permission.

He hadn’t reached out after the funeral—not really. Maybe he’d respected your decision to step away, or maybe he’d just been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to pull you back in. That was how Fury worked. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries or emotional goodbyes; he played the long game. And now, after all the time you’d spent trying to convince yourself you were done, here you were, standing outside his door. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

As you stood there, the cold night air biting at your skin, you felt an old, familiar mix of emotions bubbling up inside you. Frustration, mostly. Guilt, too. You’d walked away from this life, from the constant chaos and danger, but now you were right back in it, like no time had passed at all. Part of you resented Fury for it—for always knowing exactly when to reel you back in. And maybe, in a way, you resented yourself for being so easy to pull.

“You good?” Sam’s voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was looking at you with that easy, reassuring smile of his, but there was something softer in his eyes, something that told you he understood exactly what you were feeling.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you’d intended. “I’m good.”

Bucky, already at the door, glanced back at you, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of concern, maybe. He wasn’t one for words, especially when it came to feelings, but you could tell he was watching you closely, waiting to see how you’d handle this. He understood the weight of what you were walking into, even if he wouldn’t say it.

Without hesitation, you followed him inside, choosing not to knock. The cabin’s wooden floors groaned beneath your boots, announcing your arrival in the otherwise still night. The air inside was heavy with the scent of aged wood, leather, and old books. It was familiar—too familiar. The smell brought you back to hours spent in briefing rooms, late-night strategy sessions, and the endless weight of responsibilities you’d once carried on your shoulders. This cabin—it wasn’t just a place; it was a reminder of the past you’d tried to leave behind, a past that seemed to have found you once again.

Fury was in the main room, hunched over a holographic display, the blue light of the projection casting eerie shadows across the room. The information was streaming in front of him, lines of text and maps flickering as he scanned them. You didn’t bother trying to make sense of it just yet. He hadn’t changed much—still the same black trench coat, same eyepatch, same imposing presence that seemed to fill the room without effort. His back was to you, but you knew from experience that he’d already clocked your presence the second you stepped over the threshold.

Without turning, Fury’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. “What? Did you lose your phone? I called.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pulled up a chair across from him and dropped into it, feigning a casualness you didn’t feel. “Didn’t you get the memo?” you shot back, leaning against the table, arms crossed.

Fury finally straightened, turning just enough to fix you with his one good eye, the intensity of his gaze sharp enough to cut steel. “What—retired, huh?” he scoffed, waving a hand as if to dismiss the very notion. “I threw that memo out. You know why? Because it’s bullshit.”

You couldn’t help the slight roll of your eyes, leaning back in the chair, crossing your arms. The knot in your stomach tightened, but you kept your voice steady, controlled. “You can’t just ignore something because you don’t like it, Fury.”

His eyebrow raised slightly, his expression as unyielding as ever. “Have you met me?”

The corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. It was such a classic Fury response—blunt, relentless, and entirely too good at getting under your skin. No matter how much time passed, he had a way of cutting through the noise, making everything seem simpler, even when it wasn’t. And despite the frustration bubbling inside you, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Fury didn’t care about your so-called ‘retirement.’ He cared about results, and he always got them.

“I told you, Fury,” you said, your voice sharpening like a blade. “I’m done. I’ve been doing this my entire adult life—hell, some of my teenage years, too. I’m tired of being dragged back in every time the world decides it’s falling apart.”

Fury didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He just sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, his one good eye never leaving yours. His voice, calm but edged with steel, cut through the room, each word deliberate. “You think you’re the only one who’s tired?” he asked, his tone measured, calculated. “We’ve all been fighting for as long as we can remember. You don’t get to walk away just because you’re tired. The world doesn’t stop spinning because you want a break.”

Your jaw clenched, frustration bubbling up dangerously close to the surface. You glared at him, feeling the weight of every battle you’d fought, every sacrifice you’d made. “I’m not asking for a break, Fury! I’m asking to live my life without having to look over my shoulder every damn second. I’ve given enough—more than enough. I don’t owe this anymore.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Sam and Bucky hovering by the door. They’d clearly caught the tail end of your argument, their expressions a mix of understanding and resignation. Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky, who gave a small, resigned shrug, as if to say, Told you this would happen. You felt their eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to face them. This wasn’t their fight. Not this time.

Fury leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his intense gaze never wavering. His voice dropped lower, but it was no less firm. “You think you’re done just because you said so? You’ve been out of the game, sure. But that doesn’t mean the game’s done with you.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “People like us don’t get to retire, and you know it.”

You let out a harsh laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Is that it then? The rest of my life, I’m just some puppet you get to pull the strings on whenever it suits you?”

Fury’s expression darkened, his voice low but firm. “I never said you were a puppet. But you were a damn good Avenger. And you know better than anyone that once you’re in, you’re never really out.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. You hated that he was right. You hated that deep down, you’d always known this was the truth. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept. You’d spent years trying to convince yourself that you could walk away, that you could live a normal life. And yet, here you were, sitting across from Nick Fury, the man who had always been able to see through your excuses and drag you back into the fight. You felt a flicker of guilt at Fury’s words, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let him sway you. “I didn’t choose this, Nick. None of us did. We were thrown into it, and we did what we had to do. But that doesn’t mean I have to keep doing it forever.”

Fury’s gaze was as sharp as ever, unwavering and unrelenting. “There’s always a choice,” he said quietly. “You just don’t like the options.”

His words hit harder than you wanted to admit. You let out a long, weary breath, your gaze dropping to the floor as you tried to find something steady in this storm of uncertainty. The weight of what he said pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, thick and heavy, the truth of it undeniable. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. You were tired. So damn tired. The kind of exhaustion that sleep could never fix. Tired of the never-ending battles, of the responsibility that clung to you like a shadow, never fully letting you out of its grasp. Tired of the world always needing saving, and you being one of the few people left standing to do something about it.

But maybe that was the point, wasn’t it? Maybe there was no running from this life. Not really. No matter how far you tried to go, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself you were done, every time the world started to fall apart, it found you. Dragged you back in. And deep down, you knew Fury was right. There was no staying out of it forever. People like you didn’t get to walk away. You could pretend, sure, but the game never stopped. It was always waiting in the wings, just out of sight, ready to pull you back when it needed you most.

The silence stretched between you all like an unspoken truth, thick with the weight of everything you weren’t saying. You could feel the eyes of Sam and Bucky on you, waiting for your response, for some kind of decision. But still, you stayed quiet, your mind spinning as you tried to piece together the right words—if there even were any. The air seemed to hum with tension, the quiet creak of the old cabin settling the only sound.

Fury’s one good eye locked onto yours, his expression hardening just slightly as he raised an eyebrow. He was waiting for something—a word, a nod, a sign that you were still in this, even though you didn’t want to admit it yet. The silence stretched uncomfortably, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. When you stayed quiet, lost in your thoughts, he let out a quiet, almost imperceptible huff of impatience. His patience, never his strongest quality, was wearing thin.

"Alright then," Fury said, his voice cutting through the tension like a scalpel. "If you're done with the brooding, can I get on with the reason I dragged your dumb ass out here?"

The bluntness of his words snapped you out of your internal spiral, and you couldn’t help the way your lips twisted into a mock frown. You leaned back in your chair, the wood creaking under your weight. “You know, I miss when Hill was around. You have zero tact.”

Fury’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—the closest thing to a smile you ever got from him. If anyone else had said that, they’d probably be on the receiving end of a death glare, but you? You could get away with it. You always had.

"Hill had tact," Fury replied dryly, "and you still didn’t listen to her either."

From his spot by the door, Sam let out a quiet, amused chuckle. He was clearly enjoying the exchange, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. Bucky, on the other hand, shook his head, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was watching the back-and-forth like it was a well-worn routine, a script he’d seen played out a hundred times before. He had, in a way.

You shrugged, trying to suppress the small, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips. “Yeah, but she didn’t drag me into things by insulting me first. She’d at least give me a coffee or something before dropping the bomb.”

Fury shot you a sharp look, the kind that would make most people shrink back, but you just smiled wider. It was a familiar dance by now—a rhythm you and Fury had fallen into over the years. You pushed. He pushed back. But there was always an understanding beneath the surface. You respected him, even when he drove you insane, and he… well, he tolerated you. Maybe even liked you, though he'd never admit it.

"Coffee?" Fury deadpanned. "Really? I didn’t know you needed a latte with your world-saving."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, locking eyes with him. “Just saying, if you want me to save the planet again, maybe don’t start with ‘dumb ass.’ It’s bad for morale.”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, but you could see that glint in his eye—the one that meant he was enjoying this more than he’d ever let on. “You need morale? You’re worse than I thought. Maybe I should’ve called Parker instead. At least he didn’t need a pep talk before doing his damn job.”

That earned him a real eye roll from you. “Oh, don’t play that card. You know damn well you’d miss me.” You leaned back again, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who else is gonna keep you from going completely gray?”

Fury’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “You think you’re doing me a favor by sticking around? You’ve been a pain in my ass since day one.”

“Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass,” you shot back, a grin breaking through your faux-serious expression. “Admit it, you’d be bored without me.”

There was a pause. For a second, you thought maybe you’d gone too far, but then Fury let out a short, almost reluctant exhale that was dangerously close to a laugh. “Bored?” He shook his head slowly, his voice dropping into that familiar gravelly tone. “With you around? I’d have better luck finding peace in a war zone.”

Sam was clearly holding back laughter now, his hand covering his mouth, while Bucky just sighed, looking away like he’d seen enough of this pissing contest for one lifetime.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Fury didn’t reply, but the look he shot you said enough. He didn’t need to admit anything out loud. The truth was, beneath the gruff exterior and the constant scowling, there was a mutual respect that had been forged from years of fighting side by side, from making impossible choices and surviving the consequences. He knew you’d always show up, no matter how much you complained, and you knew he’d always have your back, even if he was a hard-ass about it.

But as quickly as the moment of banter had come, Fury’s expression shifted again, the brief levity evaporating as he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. His voice grew serious, more measured now. “Look, I didn’t drag you out here for a trip down memory lane,” he said, gesturing toward the holographic display in front of him. The soft blue light illuminated his face, casting shadows across his features. “There’s something you need to see.”

Fury’s hand cut through the soft blue light of the holographic display, casting eerie shadows across his face as he adjusted the projection. "Something big’s brewing," he said, his voice low and sharp. "And it’s not gonna wait for you to decide whether you’re ‘in’ or not."

You exhaled slowly, your eyes flicking toward the hologram, but resisting the urge to really see it. You already knew what was coming. You’d been down this road too many times before. Another crisis, another fire to put out, another reason you couldn’t just walk away. But you weren’t ready to admit it—not to him, not to yourself. Still, deep down, you knew there was no avoiding it. You couldn’t pretend this wasn’t your problem. Because, like it or not, it always ended up being your problem.

Letting out a final breath, you turned back to Fury, your shoulders tense, but your mind a little clearer. You could already feel the pull—the same pull that had dragged you into this life years ago, the same one that never really let you go, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

"Alright," you muttered, your voice steadier than before. "Let’s hear it. What’s so important that you couldn’t just leave me in peace?"

Fury didn’t hesitate. He turned fully toward the holographic display, swiping his hand through the air. The image shifted, revealing a global map with dozens of red markers scattered across it—clusters in major cities, others in more remote locations. It was a spread that sent a chill crawling up your spine before you even knew what it meant.

"This," Fury said, his voice like steel, "is what’s coming. And it’s not just some small-scale operation. We’re talking global destabilization. Coordinated attacks, high-level targets, and resources being pulled in ways we haven’t seen before. This isn’t a one-off threat—it’s the start of something bigger. Something we’ve been tracking for months. But it’s moving faster than we can keep up with."

You stared at the map, the red markers like pinpricks of danger scattered across the globe. Your stomach twisted, that familiar pit of dread settling in your chest. You didn’t need Fury to spell it out. You’d been here before. You knew how this worked. One crisis would bleed into another, spiraling until the whole world was on fire.

Fury’s eye gleamed with that familiar mix of determination and something harder to place—maybe it was relief, maybe calculation. Either way, he knew he was getting through to you. His fingers danced across the holographic display, and the image shifted once more, zooming in on clusters of red dots. They were centered around key locations—research labs, containment facilities, even old SHIELD outposts.

“These,” Fury began, his tone deliberate, “are the sites of a string of coordinated attacks. Small for now, but escalating. And trust me, they’re not random. Someone’s pulling the strings, and they’ve got their sights set on something big.”

You leaned forward, frowning as you studied the map more closely. The red dots were spread too far apart to be coincidence, but there was a pattern here. The more you stared, the more it started to emerge, like muscle memory kicking back in. You hated how quickly you could fall into this mindset—the one that was already calculating moves, analyzing angles. The part of you that had sworn you’d leave all this behind was screaming to turn away. But the other part—the part that had been doing this for so long—refused to let go.

Fury, ever the observer, watched you closely, his eye flickering with something like satisfaction. He could see the shift in your expression. He knew you too well. “I’m not asking you to pick up right where you left off,” he said, his voice softer now, almost like he was offering you an out. “But we need you on this. Hell, we all do.”

You bit your lip, still staring at the map. “The boys said Inhuman technology is getting stolen?”

Fury nodded, tapping the display again. The map zoomed in on specific locations—research labs, containment sites, all with ties to Inhuman tech. “It’s not just the tech,” he said, his voice growing more grim. “Weapons, artifacts, data—anything connected to Inhumans or their enhancements. And whatever they’re taking, they’re not leaving a trace behind. Whoever’s doing this knows exactly what they’re after.”

You exhaled slowly, your mind spinning through the endless possibilities. “So what? They’re building something? Or selling it off to the highest bidder?”

Fury’s gaze never wavered. “Maybe both,” he replied. “But we’re not gonna wait around to find out.”

You shook your head, still staring at the map. “Any idea who’s behind this?” You weren’t sure if you really wanted an answer. Part of you hoped this was small-time, something that could be handled by other agents. But the other part—the part that could already see the storm brewing—knew better.

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and you could already tell he was about to drop the other shoe. "It’s not just tech and data that’s going missing," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. "Inhumans are disappearing too."

That got your attention. Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, ‘disappearing’? How many?"

Sam, who had been standing by the door, stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Why the hell wasn’t this mentioned earlier?”

Fury turned to face you all, his expression grim, his voice steady. “At first, it wasn’t noticeable. A few here, a few there. We chalked it up to people going off the grid, fleeing persecution, whatever. But now..." He swiped his hand across the display, and the map zoomed out, revealing a shocking number of red dots scattered around the globe. “On a global scale, almost two thousand Inhumans have gone missing in the last four months."

Your stomach dropped. Two thousand? You pulled a face, confusion and disbelief crossing it. “How did no one pick up on that?”

Fury’s eye locked onto yours, and for a moment, you saw the strain there—this wasn’t something he wanted to admit. “On a global scale, it’s a blip,” he said. “Individual cases get lost in the noise. But I’ve got someone helping me now. Someone off the radar. They noticed the pattern.”

Sam crossed his arms, his expression darkening. “So, what? Someone’s hunting Inhumans?”

Fury didn’t answer immediately, his silence more telling than any word he could’ve spoken. “We don’t have all the pieces yet,” he said finally, his voice thick with tension. “But whoever’s behind this, they’re not just hunting. They’re stockpiling. And we need to find out why.”

You stared at the map, the weight of what Fury was saying settling over you like a lead blanket. Two thousand Inhumans. Missing. Taken. And whoever was behind it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

The room went quiet, the tension thick enough to choke on. You felt the familiar stirrings of dread in your chest, the kind you’d spent years trying to suppress. This wasn’t just another mission. This was something bigger, something darker. And as much as you wanted to walk away, you knew there was no turning back now. “Who are we thinking?” you asked, still staring hard at the map. Almost two thousand Inhumans. Almost two thousand people whose only crime was having abilities. You swallowed, the weight of that number settling in your chest. Almost two thousand people like you.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. The world had always been on edge about people like you—people with powers. Some feared you, some wanted to control you, and others… well, they just wanted you gone. But the idea that nearly two thousand people had been taken, snatched from their lives, their families, because of something they couldn’t help—it hit too close to home. You could feel the anger bubbling beneath your skin, an old, familiar fire that you thought you’d managed to smother.

People like you had always been treated like a problem to be solved. The world never took kindly to those who didn’t fit neatly into the box of ‘normal.’ You’d learned that the hard way, time and time again. And now, those people were vanishing. No explanation. No trace. Just gone.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but the thought gnawed at you. How many of them fought back? How many didn’t even get the chance?

Fury’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back. He gave you a long, hard look before speaking. “We’ve got a couple of suspects. Old enemies crawling out of the woodwork. But nothing solid yet.”

Sam stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest as he studied the display. “Hydra’s always a safe bet,” he suggested, his tone almost casual, though his eyes were sharp. “They seem to have a habit of not staying dead.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh from across the room, shaking his head. “Yeah, they never really get the memo, do they?”

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. “Hydra’s a possibility. But this feels too… surgical for them. They’re more of a ‘sledgehammer’ type of operation. They’d march in loud, make a mess, and leave their logo plastered all over the place for good measure. Whoever’s doing this? They’re moving in silence.”

Fury nodded, his mouth pulling into a thin line. “Exactly. Whoever it is, they’ve got resources and intel we haven’t seen in a long time. And they’re staying ahead of us at every turn.”

You looked up at him, eyes narrowing. “So, what? You’re telling me we’ve got nothing? No leads?”

Fury’s jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you could see the frustration flicker across his face. It wasn’t often you saw cracks in his armor, but when you did, it usually meant the situation was worse than he was letting on. “We’ve got whispers. Names bouncing around the black market. But nothing concrete. Yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair again. “Whispers? You dragged me out here for whispers?”

Sam chimed in, his tone light, but pointed. “You know Fury doesn’t call unless it’s serious. He’s all about the mystery and the drama. Gotta keep us on our toes.”

Fury shot Sam a look, the kind that could make most people rethink their life choices, but Sam just shrugged it off with a grin, clearly unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying. A little more info up front would be helpful.”

Bucky, still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirked. “Yeah, maybe next time you send out an actual briefing, Fury. You know, like the good old days.”

Fury didn’t miss a beat. “If you two clowns would spend less time cracking wise and more time reading the briefings I do send, maybe we’d be a little further ahead.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, shaking your head. “I missed this. Really, I did.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm, but your smirk betrayed just a hint of genuine amusement. “It’s like a dysfunctional family reunion.”

Fury’s face remained unreadable, but you could tell he was holding back a comment. Instead, he pulled the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Look, this isn’t just about the Inhuman tech. It’s about what they plan to do with it. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in waiting to find out.”

You leaned forward again, resting your elbows on your knees, eyes tracing the red dots on the map. Each one a potential target. Each one a potential victim. The weight of the situation was settling over you, heavier with every breath. “So, what’s the play?”

Fury’s eye glinted, and you could almost see the gears turning behind that steely gaze. The familiar spark of strategy came alive as he laid out the plan. “You, Wilson, and Barnes will hit one of the key locations we’ve flagged. Covert op. No noise, no trace. We need eyes on the ground to figure out who’s pulling the strings.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he glanced between you and Fury. “And you’re just sending the three of us? No backup?”

Fury didn’t miss a beat. “You’re the backup.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, his tone dry. “Of course we are.”

You exhaled sharply, feeling that all-too-familiar sense of dread creeping in. “What happened to the people you originally sent if we’re the backup?” you asked, not sure you really wanted to hear the answer.

Fury’s gaze didn’t falter, his voice steady but grim. “We lost communication.”

That was Fury’s way of saying, They’re probably dead. No need for sugarcoating, no false hope. It was a reality you’d gotten used to hearing over the years, but it never really got easier.

You popped your lips a few times, letting the weight of it settle over you, before muttering under your breath, “Well, this is gonna be a fucking blast, isn’t it?”

Sam snorted, shaking his head with a wry grin. “Always the optimist.”

Fury ignored the commentary, his expression tightening as he leaned in a bit closer, his tone more intense now. “Listen, I know you’re all used to dealing with heavy stuff, but this isn’t just another smash-and-grab. Whoever’s behind this has been stealing weapons designed specifically to take down Inhumans. If they’re stockpiling that kind of tech, it means they’re expecting to fight people like you—and they’re ready.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your face neutral. “Weapons designed to take down Inhumans?” you echoed, your voice carefully calm. That wasn’t news you wanted to hear. You’d faced enough threats over the years, but the idea of someone deliberately targeting your kind, with tools made to dismantle everything that made you who you were? That hit too close to home.

Fury nodded. “Yeah. So you especially need to be careful out there. This isn’t just some random group of thugs. These guys know what they’re doing, and they’ve got the means to take you down if you’re not careful.”

You couldn’t help but grin, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, adopting your most nonchalant look. “I’m always careful.”

The room went silent for just a beat—long enough for you to register the exaggerated snorts coming from Sam and Bucky behind you. You barely had time to process it before you heard the unmistakable sound of Sam trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh. You glanced over your shoulder and caught him biting his lip, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Bucky, on the other hand, was giving you that look—the one he reserved for moments when he was about to roast you alive and savor every second of it.

You groaned, rolling your eyes in exaggerated frustration. “Oh, come on.”

Sam was already chuckling, holding up his hands in mock surrender, his grin wide and unapologetic. “Hey, sorry, sorry. It’s just—you? Careful? You’ve got a reputation, you know.”

Bucky smirked, shaking his head slowly, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Yeah, careful… What about that little dance you had with Walker?”

You turned toward him, pointing a finger in his direction, your face scrunched up in mock indignation, but there wasn’t any real heat behind it. “Okay, fine, I’ll own that one. But, to be fair, Walker was mouthy. And he pissed me off.”

Sam snorted, clearly enjoying himself now. He leaned against the table, arms crossed, shaking his head as the memory came flooding back. “Pissed you off? You threw him through a damn window.”

You threw your hands up defensively, leaning back in your chair once more, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “He was lucky I didn’t go outside and throw him back through the window with that attitude.”

Bucky let out a low, amused chuckle, his smirk widening. “That would’ve been a sight.”

Sam, still grinning, chimed in, “Man, if you’re ‘careful,’ I don’t even want to know what reckless looks like.”

You shot Sam a playful glare, though you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “That was me being careful. If I’d really gone off, there wouldn’t have been a window left for anyone to throw anyone through.”

Bucky shook his head, his voice filled with mock disbelief. “I mean I guess he wasn’t hurt too badly.”

You leaned back further in your chair, arms still crossed, your grin widening. “Look, Walker was asking for it. And let’s be honest—after everything he pulled, I was doing the world a favor.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, his expression amused, clearly enjoying the banter far too much to let it go. “You know, you’ve got a real funny definition of ‘doing the world a favor.’”

You shrugged, putting on your best innocent face. “Honestly, he should be thanking me. I could’ve done worse, and I didn’t. I restrained myself.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “Yeah, ‘restraint,’ sure. You call throwing a grown man through a window ‘restrained’? I’d hate to see what happens when you don’t hold back.”

Before you could fire back with a witty retort, Fury cleared his throat, cutting through the banter like a knife. The room fell silent almost instantly, the lingering laughter evaporating as all eyes turned toward him. He stood at the head of the table, arms folded, his expression unreadable but carrying that familiar weight of authority that demanded attention.

Fury stepped forward, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade—sharp, no-nonsense, and to the point. “Alright,” he said, deadpan, “as much as I enjoy watching you three play ‘who’s the biggest pain in my ass,’ we’ve got work to do.”

The playful atmosphere between you, Sam, and Bucky deflated as quickly as it had started. You straightened your posture almost instinctively, the weight of Fury’s words settling in. He wasn’t one for idle chit-chat, and when he said it was time to focus, you knew things were about to get serious.

Fury took a few steps closer to the table, his lone eye sweeping over the three of you, assessing, calculating. That look he gave when he was lining up all the pieces on the chessboard. “You’re heading to Eastern Europe—remote location, off the grid. It’s a small facility buried in the mountains, not on any map you’ll find.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What kind of facility?”

Fury’s gaze remained steady. “One that’s been under the radar for too long. Intel says it’s being used to build weapons—specifically designed to neutralize Inhumans. Think of it as an experimental lab with a military-grade twist.”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Neutralize how? Are we talking suppression, or...?”

“Termination,” Fury finished, not missing a beat. “These weapons are built to stop them dead in their tracks—literally. We’re talking tech that can disable powers and take down the ones who wield them. And it’s not just the weapons we’re worried about. The people behind this? They’re not amateurs. They’re smart, well-funded, and ruthless.”

Bucky glanced at you, then back to Fury. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “So, what’s the plan?”

Fury’s lips tightened. “You go in, retrieve the data on these weapons, and destroy anything that can’t be moved. We don’t leave any trace of this operation behind.”

You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And we’re doing this alone?”

Fury shook his head, a shadow of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “No. You’ll have help. Someone’s already on the ground, gathering intel.”

You raised an eyebrow, the curiosity deepening. “Who’s the help?”

Fury’s smirk widened just a fraction, his eye gleaming with an almost amused glint. “I’ve got a feeling you and her will get along pretty well.”

That caught your attention. “Her?”

Fury just stared at you, the smirk never quite leaving his face. He didn’t answer directly, letting the mystery hang in the air like a challenge. “Let’s just say she’s more than capable of holding her own. You’ll meet her when you land.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he shot you a look. “You know, I’m starting to think he enjoys keeping us in the dark.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Oh, he definitely does.”

Fury ignored the side comments, his tone shifting back to business. “She’s been embedded in that facility for weeks. Knows the layout, the personnel, and the security protocols. She’s the reason you’re going to walk in and out without setting off a single alarm.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “And we can trust her?”

Fury’s smirk faded, his expression becoming stone-cold serious. “If I didn’t trust her, she wouldn’t be on this op. That’s all you need to know.”

You exchanged a glance with Sam and Bucky, the tension between the three of you palpable. Whoever this mystery woman was, Fury had a lot of confidence in her. And if Fury trusted her, that meant she was no ordinary asset. But still, something about walking into an unknown situation with a stranger didn’t sit right.

You leaned forward, crossing your arms on the table. “Alright, Fury. We’ll play along. But if this goes sideways—”

Fury cut you off, his voice firm. “It won’t. She’s good at what she does. All you need to worry about is getting in, getting the data, and getting out.”

Sam gave you a sidelong glance, grinning slightly. “You hear that? Worry about getting in and out. No ‘improvising.’”

You snorted, shooting him a smirk. “I don’t improvise without good reason.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, clearly not buying it. “Sure you don’t.”

Fury sighed, shaking his head. “I swear, if you three don’t get this done clean, I’m leaving you in Eastern Europe.”

You grinned wider, leaning back in your chair. “Relax, Fury. We’ll be in and out before they even know we’re there.”

Fury’s eye flicked between the three of you, clearly unconvinced but resigned to the fact that this was his team. “I know you have contacts. Make some calls." His gaze landed on you, his tone growing more pointed. "Get some rest. You leave in the morning.”

You nodded, standing up from your seat. As you gathered your things, Sam shot you a look, still grinning. “I’m curious who this mystery woman is. Fury’s got that look like he knows something we don’t.”

You shrugged, slinging your jacket over your shoulder. “Whoever she is, she’s gotta be something if Fury’s that confident. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Bucky stood as well, adjusting his jacket. “Let’s just hope she’s not another wildcard.”

You smirked, throwing Bucky a glance over your shoulder as you strode toward the door. “One wildcard’s enough for this team, don’t you think?”

Bucky snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and that wildcard is you.”

Sam chuckled in agreement, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “No argument here.”

You mock-pouted, shifting your gaze between Sam and Bucky, your tone exaggerated for effect. “Yeah, I feel like I’m being bullied here. You two beg me to come back, and all you do is roast me the whole time.”

Sam broke into a wide grin, clearly unbothered by the accusation. “Hey, we roast because we care.”

Bucky gave a half-shrug, his smirk barely hidden. “It’s a sign of affection. You should be flattered.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Sure, that’s what it is.”

Flashing them both a quick grin, you turned and stepped out of the room. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing off the playful banter like a curtain falling between acts. The cheerful, easy atmosphere evaporated as you found yourself alone in the dimly lit hallway, the quiet settling in around you.

Her.

Fury’s cryptic comment about the mystery woman still echoed in your mind. Whoever she was, he seemed confident you two would hit it off. But that could mean anything coming from Fury. He wasn’t exactly known for his straightforwardness, and when he said you’d get along, it could be his way of saying you’d end up liking her—or that you’d butt heads until sparks flew. Either way, if she was half as good as Fury hinted, maybe this mission would go smoother than usual.

Maybe.

You pushed open the door leading outside, stepping into the cool evening air. The sky was a deep shade of blue, the stars just beginning to peek through the fading light. You reached into your back pocket, pulling out your phone as you leaned against the porch railing. You knew exactly who you could call—someone with the kind of connections that could keep an ear out for intel.

But did you want to call him? Absolutely not.

The last time you saw him… well, you’d made it perfectly clear that it was a one-time thing. No strings, no complications. Once you walked out of his hotel room, that was it. The only thing you’d heard about him since was the message telling you he made it to Charles Xavier’s school, which had been a relief. You never wanted him to think you cared too much, but a part of you was glad he had found his place—somewhere far away from you.

You scrolled through your contacts, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as your finger hovered over his name: Remy LeBeau. You stared at the screen for a long moment, debating whether or not this was a good idea.

It’s just a phone call…

You muttered under your breath, “Alright then,” as you pressed the call button and switched the phone to speaker mode, setting it on your knee while you sat on the porch steps. The cool evening air brushed against your skin, a small reprieve from the pressure building in your chest. The phone rang once. Twice.

Then his voice—smooth, honeyed, and unmistakably Cajun—came through the line.

“Well, well, well… look who’s callin’ ol’ Remy. Thought you’d forgotten ‘bout me, chère.”

You rolled your eyes, despite the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying. I was just scrolling through my contacts and thought, ‘Hmm, who annoys me the most?’ And wouldn’t you know it? Your name popped up.”

There was a pause on the other end, but you could practically hear the grin spreading across his face. “Ahhh, so dat’s how it is, huh? Not even a ‘How you doin’, Remy? Missed ya, Remy?’”

Before you could answer, the door behind you creaked open, and you glanced back to see Bucky stepping out. He gave you a curious look before plopping down on the porch beside you. You cleared your throat, giving him a playful wag of your eyebrows.

“Alright, fine,” you said into the phone, your tone dry. “How are you, Remy? Last time we met, you blasted me to the other side of the state with a fucking Uno card.”

A rich chuckle echoed through the speaker, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Chère, you punched me through a brick wall first. I’d say dat makes us even.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, well, I’d say you deserved it.” You shot a glance at Bucky, who was shaking his head, smiling at your banter. It was clear he was enjoying the show.

Remy’s voice dropped a little, teasing, “Depends on what you think I deserved, ma belle. ‘Cause I remember a night where you thought I deserved a whole lot more.” The night with Remy had been a collision of chaos and inevitability—two forces that had been circling each other for far too long, finally crashing together in a moment of reckless abandon.

You hadn’t planned it. Hell, you hadn’t even wanted it, at least not consciously. Everything leading up to that moment was supposed to be purely professional—a job, a mission, a means to an end. But somewhere between chasing him through the narrow, twisting streets of New Orleans and that final standoff in the abandoned warehouse, something shifted. Something in the way he looked at you, the way he moved, the way he knew exactly how to push your buttons and get under your skin.

You were angry. Furious, actually. He’d always had this ability to infuriate you more than anyone else, to make your blood boil with a single smirk or a well-placed quip. He knew exactly how to play the game, and worse, he knew how to play you.

When you punched him through that wall, it was supposed to be the end of it. It was supposed to be over. But instead, when he came back at you, pinning you against the crumbling brick, there was something different in his eyes—something dangerous, yes, but also something raw and unspoken.

You could still feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “You sure you want me to stop, chère?”

You should have said yes. You should have shoved him off, thrown another punch, done anything but what you’d actually done.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you’d felt that pull—the same pull that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. That electric tension, that unspoken something that you’d both been ignoring, pretending didn’t exist. And in that moment, you’d let it take over. You’d let it win.

When his lips finally met yours, it was fire. It was reckless and impulsive and everything you knew you shouldn’t be doing, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. Your hands were in his hair, his hands were on your waist, and it wasn’t long before the fight between you turned into something else entirely—something far more dangerous.

The room blurred after that. The world outside ceased to matter. It was just the two of you—two people who had been dancing around each other for too long, finally giving in.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t think. There was only the heat, the way his body pressed against yours, the way he somehow knew exactly where to touch, how to make you gasp, how to make you want more. It was messy and unrestrained, a rush of adrenaline and pent-up frustration that spilled out in ways neither of you had planned.

You groaned, running a hand over your face. “Oh, for the love of—Remy, can we not do this right now?”

“You brought it up, chère. Just followin’ your lead.”

Clearing your throat, you turned your attention back to the phone. “Anyway, as much as I love walking down memory lane with you, I actually need something.”

“Ahh, business, den?” Remy’s tone shifted slightly, though the playful undercurrent remained. “Alright, chérie, what you need?”

You sat up a little straighter, glancing at Bucky before speaking. “I need you to keep an ear out. You and the rest of your team. Inhumans are going missing.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and then you heard some muffled voices, like Remy was talking to someone else. You raised your eyebrows at Bucky, who gave you a nonchalant shrug, clearly waiting for the conversation to unfold.

Remy came back on the line. “Hold up. Got de team here. Can you explain it to dem?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sure, why the hell not?” You shifted the phone slightly, making sure it was positioned right on your knee. “Here’s the situation: Inhumans are disappearing, and someone’s stealing weapons specifically designed to terminate them. These aren’t just suppression devices. We’re talking about tech built to kill.”

There was a low whistle from Remy on the other end of the line. “Damn, sounds like you got yourself a real mess, ma belle, You wouldn’t happen to be plannin’ somethin’, would ya?”

You exchanged a glance with Bucky, who raised his eyebrows in silent amusement. “What makes you think that?” you asked, your tone innocent but laced with sarcasm.

“Chère, I know you. You don’t get involved unless you got a plan to blow somethin’ up.”

Bucky snorted next to you, leaning back on his elbows. “She’s not blowing anything up,” he interjected, his voice dry.

You gave him a playful shrug. “You never know.” Then, turning your attention back to the phone, you added, “We’re going on an adventure. Heading to Europe tomorrow to… well, shake things up.”

Remy chuckled softly. “Ahhh, Europe, huh? Sounds like a real vacation. Y’ got your SPF packed?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that kind of trip, Remy.”

“I figured. But don’t pretend you ain’t plannin’ on stirrin’ up some trouble. You always do.”

“Look,” you said, “just keep your ears open. Let me know if you hear anything about these weapons or the people behind them.”

There was a pause, and you heard Remy step away from what sounded like a crowd, his voice growing quieter, more serious. “These weapons… they can really kill Inhumans?”

You exhaled, the weight of his question pressing down on you. “Yeah, they can.”

The line was silent for a moment, the tension hanging in the air. When Remy spoke again, his voice was low, but the sincerity in it was unmistakable. “You be careful out there, chère. You hear me? Don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt, ‘specially not for somethin’ like dis. Call me if you need backup.”

You laughed softly, though there was a tightness in your chest. “I’m the backup, apparently.”

Remy chuckled darkly. “Yeah, well, even de backup can need help sometimes.”

You glanced at Bucky, who was watching you closely, his arms crossed over his chest. You gave him a small smile, but your mind was still on the mission ahead.

“Thanks, Remy,” you said, your voice softening just a touch. “I mean it.”

“Anytime, ma belle. You know where to find me.”

With that, the line went dead, leaving you staring at your phone for a moment longer. The echo of Remy’s voice lingered in your head, the way his concern had slipped through, buried beneath all his usual teasing. Part of you hated that he still cared, that he could still get to you after all this time. But if you were being honest—really honest with yourself—another part of you was relieved. Relieved that, despite all the chaos, someone out there still had your back.

Bucky shifted beside you, drawing your attention. He had that look on his face—the one where he was trying to pretend he wasn’t curious but failed miserably at hiding it.

“So... who’s this Remy?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with interest.

You pocketed your phone, not quite meeting his eyes. “Remember that mission in New Orleans a few years ago?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a second before recognition dawned. “Mmhmm. The, uh, heists? Stolen artifacts?”

“Yeah, that guy,” you said, your voice deliberately casual as you scrolled through your phone, doing your best to ignore the way Bucky was now openly staring at you, his curiosity ramping up with each passing second.

Bucky nodded slowly, his expression shifting as he pieced it together. “Wait… you’re telling me you slept with the guy we were supposed to apprehend?”

You paused, your thumb hovering over the screen of your phone. There was no point in denying it. You knew Bucky well enough to know when he had you pegged. So, with a small shrug, you replied, “To be fair, if you ever met Remy, you’d probably also sleep with him. He’s just that type of guy.”

Bucky blinked, then shook his head, letting out a surprised laugh. “That type of guy, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smirk, “the type that can charm the pants off anyone.” You tilted your head, shooting him a playful look. “Literally.”

Bucky held his hands up in mock surrender. “No offense taken. Just... didn’t peg you as the ‘sleep with the target’ type back then.”

You chuckled, leaning back against the porch railing. “Trust me, neither did I. But Remy... he’s complicated. Always was.”

Bucky let out another laugh, but there was something softer in his expression now, something more understanding. “I get it. Sometimes things happen in the field that you can’t plan for.” He paused, then raised an eyebrow. “Just didn’t expect you to be so... enthusiastic about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. “It was a long time ago, Buck.”

“Doesn’t seem like that long ago,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. You sighed, already knowing where this conversation was headed. Bucky always had a way of cutting through the banter when it mattered, of seeing past your sharp words and deflection, straight to the heart of things. He could sense the weight you were carrying, the edge in your voice you didn’t want to acknowledge. And sure enough, his next words weren’t teasing. They were deadly serious.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Remy’s right. You need to be careful.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. You weren’t used to seeing Bucky like this—so openly worried, so raw. “I’m always careful,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, a reflexive defense.

But Bucky wasn’t buying it. He gave you that look—the one that could cut through any bullshit you threw his way. His brow furrowed, his jaw tightening just slightly, the tension radiating off him in waves. His eyes, usually calm and steady, were now shadowed with something deeper, something that tugged at the pit of your stomach.

“Really?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in that way that made you feel like you were missing something obvious. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re about to throw yourself into the middle of something dangerous. And I know you—when you get deep into this stuff, especially when it’s something like this, you don’t always think about yourself.”

You opened your mouth, ready to protest, to brush off his concern with the usual quip, but Bucky cut you off before you could say a word.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice dropping low enough that it sent a shiver up your spine. He leaned in closer, his hand resting on his knee, fingers clenching into a tight fist. “These weapons you’re talking about? They’re not just a threat to the mission—they’re a threat to you.”

There was something in the way he said it, the way his voice faltered slightly at the end, that made you stop. Made you really look at him. His eyes were filled with a worry you hadn’t seen in a long time—not just the kind of concern you’d expect from a teammate headed into a dangerous mission, but something more. Something almost vulnerable. He wasn’t just worried about the mission going sideways. He was worried about you—about losing you.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension between you both thickening, the air growing heavy with what was left unsaid. Bucky wasn’t someone who wore his emotions on his sleeve, not like this. He kept things close to the chest, locked up tight behind walls he’d built over decades of pain and loss. But right now, sitting next to you, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that made your heart twist, he wasn’t hiding anything.

He was scared.

“Bucky,” you started, trying to find the right words, the right way to ease the worry in his eyes. “It’s just like any other mission. I’m not invincible. I know that. Anything can kill me.”

He let out a long, frustrated sigh, his head tipping back slightly as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he looked at you again, there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—something sharper, more personal.

“But it’s not like every other mission, is it?” he asked, his tone softer now, but no less urgent. “This isn’t just some random op. This is personal for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t—that you were fine, that you had it under control—but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, you knew he was right.

This mission was different.

You had been on dangerous assignments before, faced down threats that would have sent anyone else running in the opposite direction. You had dealt with mercenaries, terrorists, assassins, and gods. You’d been shot, stabbed, thrown through walls, and walked away each time with little more than bruises and scars, each one a testament to your survival. You had faced down death more times than you cared to count, and somehow, you’d always pulled through.

But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the danger of the mission. It wasn’t just the weapons designed to kill people like you, to strip away every advantage you’d ever had in a fight. It was the weight of it—the personal stakes, the way the faces of the missing haunted you, how it felt like the world was closing in, and the people you cared about were at the center of it. And now, as you stood on the edge of another mission, the fear wasn’t just about whether or not you’d make it out alive. It was about whether you’d come back the same.

Bucky shifted beside you, the two of you sitting in the quiet aftermath of his words. The worry in his eyes was still there, but now it was mixed with something heavier, something deeper that you hadn’t fully comprehended until now. He let out a small sigh, his gaze drifting away from you for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee like he was working through what he wanted to say next. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his brow furrowing just slightly as if trying to find the right words.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The silence between you stretched, thick and palpable, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air like a storm cloud about to break. You watched him, the way his eyes flickered with unspoken thoughts, the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. You could sense it before he even said anything—this wasn’t just another conversation about the mission. This was something deeper, something raw.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough around the edges, as if the words were scraping against his throat. He still wasn’t looking at you, his eyes focused on something far off in the distance, something only he could see.

“I’ve been to war,” he began, his tone calm but tinged with an exhaustion that ran deeper than just physical tiredness. It was the kind of exhaustion that came from carrying too many burdens for too long. “I’ve seen things... done things... that I don’t talk about. Things I’m not proud of.”

His hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles going white as he clenched it against his thigh, like he was trying to hold something back. “I’ve been brainwashed, manipulated, used as a weapon. I’ve had my mind taken from me, my choices ripped away. I’ve been forced to do things—terrible things. And I’ve lost... God, I’ve lost more than you can even think about.”

His voice cracked slightly on the word *lost*, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability in him that he rarely ever let anyone see. His gaze shifted downward, like he couldn’t bear to look at you in that moment, like the weight of everything he’d been through was too much to hold your gaze.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he wasn’t finished. Not yet.

“I got through it,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost as if he was talking more to himself than to you. His eyes finally met yours, and they were filled with a kind of haunted resignation. “I survived. I kept going because... well, because I had to. I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep moving forward, even when I didn’t want to.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening again as he fought to keep his emotions in check. But the cracks were showing now, the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself starting to crumble in front of you.

“But,” he said, and the word hung in the air, heavy and final. He hesitated, his throat working as he swallowed again, this time more slowly, like he was trying to gather the strength to say what came next. His eyes softened, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a knife.

“I think if I lost you...”

He trailed off, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to finish the sentence. His hand, the one that wasn’t made of vibranium, unclenched and hovered in the air for a second before he let it drop back to his side. His eyes searched yours, raw and open in a way you’d never seen before. A way that made your heart ache.

“I don’t think I could cope,” he finally admitted, his voice cracking again, this time with an emotion so deep it made your chest tighten. “I’ve lost so much already. More than anyone should. But you...”

He paused, his eyes flickering with something that looked like fear—real, unguarded fear. “You’re different. You’re...”

He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to. You could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his words hung between you, unfinished but heavy with meaning. You were more than just a teammate to him, more than just someone he fought beside. You were a lifeline. A connection to the world, to something real and grounding. And the thought of losing you—of you not coming back from this mission—was a weight he didn’t know how to bear.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as the full weight of what he was saying settled over you. Bucky Barnes, the man who had faced down gods and monsters, who had lived through a century of war and torment, was afraid of losing you. And not just afraid—terrified.

Suddenly, everything about this mission felt different. The stakes weren’t just about the people you were trying to save, or the weapons you were trying to stop. They were about the people you’d leave behind if you didn’t come back. The people who cared about you, who needed you just as much as you needed them.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as a thousand possible responses raced through your mind. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that you’d be fine, that you’d come back just like you always did. But the words felt hollow, empty, as if they would shatter the moment they left your mouth. Because deep down, you knew the truth—you couldn’t make that promise. Not this time. Not with what you were walking into. Not with these weapons.

“I...” You hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on you like a physical thing, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the raw emotion in the air between you, the unspoken fear and frustration. “Bucky, I—”

But before you could finish, Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his fingers digging in as if he could pull the frustration out of his scalp. He let out a sharp breath, a mix of a sigh and a growl, his eyes flashing with an intensity you didn’t see often. “I’m angry,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m angry at Fury, at Sam—hell, at everyone—for wanting to drag you into this. They’re putting you at risk,” he spat, his voice low but fierce, as if the mere thought of it set his blood boiling. “And for what? Because they think you’re the best shot at stopping this? Because they think you can handle it? They’re willing to gamble with your life, and I’m supposed to just sit here and be okay with it?”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your own frustration start to build in response to his. “I can handle it, Bucky,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s why Fury asked you to bring me in. I’ve done this before. I’ve faced worse.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening , his presence looming larger now, as if the raw emotion he was feeling was physically radiating off him. “Worse? Worse than weapons designed to kill people like you? To neutralize everything that makes you who you are?”

His words cut through you, sharp and unrelenting. And the way he said it—like the very idea of you being vulnerable, of you losing—was something he couldn’t even bear to think about.

“This isn’t just another mission, and you know that,” Bucky continued, his voice rising as the anger he’d been holding onto finally broke free. “This isn’t some mercenary with a gun, or a terrorist group with a bomb. These are weapons designed to end people like you. They’re not going to miss. They’re not going to give you a second chance. One wrong move, and you’re—”

“Dead?” you interrupted, your voice hardening as your own anger flared to life. “Yeah, I know that, Bucky. I’m not stupid. But you think I don’t know the risks? You think I haven’t considered what could happen?”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his expression twisting with frustration. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You know the risks, but you’re still willing to throw yourself into it. You always do this—you always think you have to be the one to save everyone, to take the hit so no one else has to. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s...”

His voice broke off, and for a moment, the anger in his eyes softened, replaced by something rawer, more vulnerable. “This time, it’s you. This time you’re the one that needs saving.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of Bucky’s words settling deep in your gut. He wasn’t just angry about the mission, not really. He was angry because it was you—because this time, the risk was almost too real, too close to home. This time, it wasn’t some faceless threat or a distant danger. It was something that could take you away from him, and that terrified him.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips despite the tightness in your throat. “You think I want to be in this position? You think I don’t know how dangerous this is?” Your voice cracked, your words sharper than you intended, but you didn’t pull back. You couldn’t. Not now. “Bucky, I was done with all this. I had walked away. Hell, I wasn’t exactly happy, but I was... I was content. I was safe.”

You saw a flicker in his eyes—was it pain? Understanding? Maybe both. But it didn’t matter. The words were spilling out of you before you could stop them. “But then you knocked on my door. And you know damn well I’d never say no. Not to you.”

The truth hung between you like a blade suspended in the air, sharp and unspoken, its weight pressing down, impossible to ignore. You felt it in your chest, heavy as a boulder neither of you knew how to move. You had been out. You had built something resembling a life, a fragile, quiet existence that wasn’t perfect but was safe. And yet, all it had taken was him—just Bucky—to pull you back into the chaos. And he knew that. He had to know that.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, standing on the edge of something, but it was the silence between you that roared the loudest. It felt like standing at the precipice of something dark and uncertain, something you both knew was there but hadn’t allowed yourselves to fully face.

His eyes softened, just for a second, like he’d let his guard slip. You could feel the unspoken feelings swirling in the air between you, thick and tangible. This wasn’t just about the mission. It wasn’t even just about the danger. It was about you. About him. About the way your lives had become so entangled that even the thought of losing each other was too much to bear.

Bucky’s gaze held yours, and you could see it—feel it—just under the surface. The way his eyes lingered a beat too long, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly when you said his name. He looked at you like you were the only thing tethering him to the world, like losing you would destroy the last piece of himself he had left. And God, you felt the same way. You had for a long time.

This wasn’t just about the fights you’d been through together or the missions you’d survived. It was about the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice. The way his voice softened when he spoke to you, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile between you. It was the way your heart raced whenever he was too close, how you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him anywhere, no matter the cost.

You weren’t sure when it had happened—when that line had blurred. Maybe it had always been like this, simmering under the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free. But standing here now, with the ocean roaring beneath you and the future uncertain, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

Neither of you could.

The space between you felt like it was shrinking, the weight of all the things you hadn’t said pressing down on your chest like a physical weight. It was suffocating, the silence heavier than the wind whipping around you. You could see it in his eyes—the way they flickered with something raw and unguarded, something vulnerable that Bucky never let anyone see. But you saw it. You always saw it.

And for the first time, you realized just how much this wasn’t about the mission, or the danger, or the weapons. This wasn’t just about the threats you faced together every time you were called in to save the world. This was about you. Because you were more than just a partner to him. You were more than just someone who fought by his side.

“But why does it always have to be you?” Bucky’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper, like he was holding back something much bigger than words. “Why do you always have to be the one to throw yourself into the fire? Why the hell does everyone always go to you when they need something? When it’s dangerous, when it’s impossible, when it’s a goddamn suicide mission—why is it always you?”

You flinched at the rawness in his voice, at the way his words cut through the thin layer of composure you’d been clinging to. His eyes were locked on yours, and in them, you saw everything he wasn’t saying. He wasn’t just asking why the world seemed to throw its worst at you. He was asking why you always took it on. Why you couldn’t just stop. Why, even when you had the chance to walk away, to live a normal life, you let yourself be pulled back into the storm.

And deep down, you knew the answer. You knew why you kept doing this. But the answer wasn’t something you could explain—not to him. Not when you could barely explain it to yourself.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words stuck in your throat. You weren’t sure you had the strength to tell him the truth. That it wasn’t just about the mission. That it wasn’t just about saving the world or doing the right thing. It was about him. About being there for him, because the thought of him facing this without you, the thought of him being out there alone, was unbearable.

Before you could find your voice, the cabin door creaked open, and Sam stepped out onto the porch, his presence breaking the tension like a sudden gust of cold air.

“Everything okay out here?” Sam asked, his eyes flicking between you and Bucky, clearly sensing the heavy silence that had settled between you.

For a moment, you and Bucky just stared at each other, the unspoken words still hanging in the space between you, thick and suffocating. His gaze didn’t leave yours, and for a split second, you thought he might say something. Something real. Something that would shatter whatever fragile barrier had been holding the two of you apart. But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, that raw vulnerability in his eyes was gone, replaced by the familiar mask he wore so well.

Bucky’s gaze lazily shifted to Sam, his voice flat as he replied, “Everything’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach—the unfinished conversation, the things neither of you had said. The truth that lingered just beneath the surface, too dangerous to confront but impossible to ignore.

Bucky stood up from the porch, the movement slow and deliberate, like he was putting distance between you and whatever it was that had almost been said. His eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer, and you could see it—the fear, the anger, the love—all of it, buried beneath layers of walls he’d spent years building. But he didn’t say a word.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said simply, his voice devoid of the emotion that had been there just moments before. And then, without another glance, he moved past Sam and walked back into the cabin, the door closing behind him with a soft thud that felt far too final.

You sat there, staring after him, your heart pounding in your chest, everything you hadn’t said still lodged in your throat. You wanted to call after him, to stop him, to tell him the truth. That it wasn’t just about the mission. That it wasn’t just about saving the world. That you were doing this because you loved him. But the words wouldn’t come.

Sam stood there for a moment, his brow furrowed as he looked between you and the now-closed door. He didn’t say anything at first, just let the silence stretch on, as if he knew that whatever had just happened between you and Bucky was something too fragile, too complicated to pry into.

“You sure everything’s okay?” Sam asked again, his voice softer this time, like he already knew the answer.

You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s fine.”

But as you sat there, staring at the empty space where Bucky had been, you knew that everything was far from fine. You had stood on the edge of something with him—something real, something terrifying—and you had both stepped back. For now.

But you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep stepping back. Because the truth was, you were already in too deep. And so was he.

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