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flowersforbucky · 7 months ago

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for always and ever is always for you

old man!logan x healer!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: logan is getting sicker by the day, and charles' seizures are occurring more and more frequently. logan didn't think he'd ever see you again - but desperate times call for desperate measures.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, descriptions of blood and illness, angst, logan's pov, reader is afab, language, slow burn as far as one-shots go, no use of y/n, caliban being sassy, mutual pining, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), face sitting, cream pie, some dirty talk and pet names

author's note: thank you @embbarnes for reading this and letting me rant about it and assuring me that it's worth posting 🫶🏻 this took me an embarrassing amount of time and i have to say i am pretty proud of it. flashbacks are in italics

divider by @saradika-graphics!

“This is the third time in the last week, you know.��

Logan stares down at the deep red splatters of blood that creep towards the drain. The skin of his knuckles begin to turn white from how harshly he grips the edges of the sink – he’s surprised the ceramic doesn’t shatter. He turns the faucet on, lowering his lips to the weak stream to collect enough water to rinse the taste of iron from his mouth.

“I know that,” Logan spits the now pink tinged water into the bowl and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t think I fuckin’ know that? I’m the one hacking my lungs up here.” He shoves past Caliban, exiting the small bathroom.

Logan doesn’t want to snap at him – hates that it happens as often as it does. But right now he’s late for work and the last thing he needs is to hear Caliban harping on about this again while he scrambles to find his car keys.

“You know I hate to keep bringing this up,” Caliban continues as he follows Logan into the makeshift kitchen of the abandoned smelting plant.

“I find that hard to believe,” Logan mumbles under his breath. He finds his keys hidden under some junk mail and shoves them in his coat pocket before pouring himself some coffee to take with him to work. It’s day old and not as strong as he’d like for it to be, but he’ll be glad that he has it when midnight rolls around.

“Charles,” Caliban continues. “The medications are doing very little to help him anymore. We’re having to give him twice as much as we were a month ago, which means we are running out twice as fast. He’s getting worse. You both are. We need to find a… specialist that can help with both of our problems.”

Logan snorts in response, practically able to feel Caliban’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

“There ain’t a thing that any doctor can do for me and you know it.”

Maybe Logan hasn’t had the flu, or strep throat, or even the common cold in two hundred odd years, but he knows there’s no prescription that any physician can write that would stop his very bones from poisoning him.

“Let me rephrase that, then. Not a doctor. You need to see a healer.”

Logan freezes, his posture going rigid.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, I suggest shutting the fuck up.”

“He’s had a record number of seizures so far this week,” Caliban implores. “You’re barely standing upright. There’s a chance that she could help you both.”

“She’s out of the question,” Logan spits before storming past him. He yanks the door open and slams it closed behind him as he steps into the late evening Mexico sun.

How does Caliban even know about you? Some of Charles’ rambling in his rare moments of lucidity, no doubt.

It doesn’t matter if you can help or not.

For a lot of reasons, it doesn’t matter.

The most obvious one being he hasn’t talked to you in over a year and doesn’t know where the fuck you’re at.

••••••

“You don’t have to stay back there, you know. You can come closer. You’re not in my way.”

There’s no hint of condescension in your voice. Only patience, and reassurance. Still, Logan doesn’t budge from his position in the corner of the mansion’s infirmary.

You don’t press him any further.

He had lost track of how long he’d been standing here, just watching in complete silence as you tend to the young mutant’s injuries.

Logan doesn’t even know the kid’s name. He doesn’t know any of their names. But he’d been the one to find all five of them in a locked cell on today’s mission, and he isn’t going to leave this room until he knows that they are all okay.

You’d already taken care of four out of the five. They now rest peacefully in individual beds, no doubt the warmest and safest they’ve been in God knows how long.

Your hands hover a few inches above a young boy’s chest, emitting a pale purple glow as you wave them over his torso, letting your powers radiate from your palms into his body.

Logan notices the color of your power isn’t as vibrant as it was when you’d healed the first child’s injuries, or the second, or third. Originally a bright violet, it’s now a lackluster lavender.

He also doesn't miss the way that you suddenly close your eyes with furrowed brows, but he remains in the corner, watching you carefully. You dig your teeth into the flesh of your bottom lip in concentration, causing Logan to take an involuntary step forward at the pained expression on your face.

Your hands drop down to the railing of the bed that the boy lays in, clutching the bars to keep you from falling over as the energy you’d been emitting fades away.

“Shit,” you huff, out of breath. A thin layer of perspiration glistens on your forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asks as he moves closer to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding as you look up at him. You give him a forced smile that does very little to reassure him. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve had to use so much of my powers in such a short amount of time.”

“Maybe you should sit down for a minute, yeah?” Logan looks around the infirmary, walking a few feet away to grab a chair for you. He places it next to the bed that you’re still using for support.

“I’ll be as good as new soon,” you assure him as you take a seat. “This happens occasionally.”

Logan stands beside you, awkwardly leaning against the edge of an empty bed next to the boy’s. He watches as you lean forward, taking the kid’s small hand in your own. There’s no resurgence of purple – you’re simply holding it. The boy is sound asleep, so the act makes Logan wonder if it’s for his comfort or your own.

“If I exert too much energy at once, I feel the effects of it. Not enough to really hurt me, just.. leave me feeling like I need to sleep for a week,” you explain with a weak chuckle. Logan’s eyes are fixated on the way that your thumb soothes over the skin of the boy’s hand.

“A gift that comes with a price,” Logan murmurs. “I know how that feels. Though it sometimes feels more like a curse in my case.” He instinctively glances down at his knuckles, his claws sheathed away.

“I can see how it would feel that way,” you agree, glancing up at him with a soft expression. “But it’s not what your power is that determines whether it’s a curse or a gift. It’s what you do with it. And these kids are alive because of you. A lot of people are, because you choose to use it for good. I’d say that makes it a gift.”

“I guess I should try to look at it that way more often,” he hums.

“Plus, having the ability to heal yourself has gotta be pretty neat. I think you’re the only person here who would never have to ask me for my help.” You glance back up at him, a hint of a smirk ghosting your lips.

They’re pretty, he thinks – your lips. He mentally scolds himself, knowing now isn’t the time or place to be thinking about your lips.

“You can count on that, bub.”

When Logan wakes, he doesn’t have the chance to mourn the memory he’d found himself reliving in his sleep.

He does find himself on the floor by his bed with the breath knocked from his lungs. His hands come to shield his ears, attempting to block out the high-pitched shrieking that makes his ear canals feel as if they are filling with blood.

Judging by the sunlight streaming into his room through the thin, tattered curtains covering his windows, he guesses that it’s mid-afternoon. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours – meaning it also couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he had given Charles his most recent dose of medicine.

With the world shaking around him, a half empty bottle of liquor and an old coffee mug both shatter as they fall off of his bedside table and hit the ground.

Logan and Caliban had recently cleared off all shelves in the smelting plant, moving anything that could potentially fall and break during one of Charles’ episodes closer to the ground, but after a long night of driving around drunk assholes, it’s easy to forget that even a ceramic cup on a small table is a hazard.

He can tell by the way that the air around him feels as if it weighs ten tons that Charles has to be close by. He musters all of his strength to force himself to his feet. Each movement feels as if he’s in slow motion as he fights against the psionic energy that works to keep him frozen in place.

As slow as if he has hundred pound weights attached to each of his feet, he makes his way from his bedroom and to the common area. When he turns the corner, he first sees Caliban, still as a statue with his facial features contorted in agony and his typically alabaster skin turning redder by the second from the pain. He’s less than a foot away from where Charles sits in his wheelchair, where he appears to have been watching a movie.

Logan frantically looks around the room, searching for where he had placed the bag of injections and pills when he’d forced Charles into swallowing his last dose just a few hours ago.

He finds it on what is used as a dining room table. It’s sheer good luck that Logan had thought to prepare an emergency dose of the injection earlier that day, most likely thanks to Caliban’s lecture from yesterday evening still looming in the back of his mind.

After what feels like hours, Logan finally reaches Charles with the injection and plunges the needle into his chest. The second that the medication enters his system, the seizure ceases.

Caliban and Logan both collapse to the ground in relief. Logan clutches his chest, trying to steady his heartbeat and regulate his breathing.

“You dream of her just as she dreams of you,” Charles whimpers through labored breaths.

“What?” Logan snaps, glaring at Charles from his position on the dirty floor. His ears must still be ringing from the effects of the seizure, because he can’t have heard him right. “Quit reading my mind.”

“Your thoughts are always loud when you think of her,” Charles murmurs, turning his attention back to the movie on the screen in front of him as if nothing had happened.

It's the first time, Logan realizes, that Charles has mentioned you since the day of his first seizure. Even without specifically saying your name, Logan knows exactly who he’s referring to.

“Make that four incidents this week,” Caliban grumbles as he jerks the plastic bag filled with medication out of Logan’s hand. He digs through it, pulling out a pill bottle and dumping two into his palm. “He’s averaging an episode per day, and each one feels stronger than the last. It’s only a matter of time before he kills–”

“Do you know where she’s at? Can you track her?” Logan interrupts him. Caliban pauses to look at him, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, so it’s a good idea now that he–” he jabs a finger in Charles’ direction, “mentions her once, is it?” He stomps over to where Charles watches the television, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening right beside him.

“Take these. Both of them.” He shoves them into Charles’ palm and then storms past Logan.

“Didn’t say anything about it being a good idea,” Logan grunts, following him into the kitchen. “But you seem to think it is and I don’t know what else to do. So can you find her or not?”

“Of course I can,” Caliban retorts defensively. “As long as you have something with her scent on it.”

Logan throws his hands up in frustration, and then rakes one hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“I haven’t seen her in over a year. Why would I have anything that smells like her?”

“It doesn’t have to be dosed in her favorite perfume,” Caliban huffs. “But I can’t track anyone without some amount of their scent to go off of.”

“Goddammit,” Logan groans between gritted teeth. He turns in the opposite direction, heading back to his bedroom.

He thinks back to the last time that he saw you – the last time that his life had any sense of normalcy. The day of Charles’ first seizure, the day that he saw seven of his friends die, you weren’t there. By some miracle, you had been out of town.

But a few days before that – it had been snowing. It was the first snow of winter and you had taken a group of younger students to play outside in the middle of class.

Logan was called over by a few of the kids who begged him to help make a snowman. You kept to the sidelines, watching him with the students, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself to keep your cardigan pulled securely around your chest.

He remembers pausing what he was doing to run over to you and insist that you take his jacket until you were all back inside. He remembers how much he liked seeing you wear it, and how silly he felt when he didn’t like that you remembered to give it back.

He remembers being enveloped in the smell of honey and cream when he shrugged the jacket back onto his own shoulders. Less than a week later, he found himself in Mexico with no need to wear such a heavy leather jacket.

It's now been over a year since he’s so much as touched it.

Logan begins rifling through the drawers of the dresser that looks to be as old as he is, containing all of the clothing that he owns. It doesn’t take but a few seconds until he recognizes the feeling of the worn leather against his fingertips.

He brings the jacket up to his nose, inhaling where your skin and hair had rest against the collar. He breathes in deep, concentrating on the scent that transports him back to before his life was completely uprooted and turned upside down. With his eyes closed, it’s easy for him to let himself believe he’s standing in the kitchen of the mansion with your arms around his neck.

It's faint. If he didn’t have enhanced senses, he may not have been able to detect it at all. But it’s there – familiar and nostalgic and unmistakably you.

••••••

It takes Caliban all of sixty seconds to pinpoint your location.

Logan doesn’t quite know how to feel about learning that there’s only one state in-between the two of you. He wasn’t sure where he expected you to be, really – it doesn’t surprise him that you didn’t stay in the state of New York, and he didn’t think you would return to your hometown, but knowing that you’ve possibly been just a half day’s drive away from him this entire time makes a lot of emotions surface that he’s been trying to push down for the last year.

He begins the drive just after six in the morning. By the time the sun starts to set that evening, he enters the city limits of Silverton, Colorado.

Nestled in the snow-capped Rockies, the small town couldn’t be more polar opposite of where he has resided for the last thirteen months. The stark differences nearly cause him to turn his limousine around and head back to the smelting plant without even bothering you – if you’d chosen somewhere like this to live, there’s no way you’d be content with the brutal, dry heat of northern Mexico.

But this is the closest he’s been to you in nearly four hundred days, and despite the fact that he’s spent the last ten hours of this car ride thinking about what he’s going to say to you and still doesn’t fucking know, he can’t bring himself to go back to Mexico without trying.

Without at least seeing your face. Without at least seeing for himself that you’re doing okay.

He knows it’s selfish. He knows he made his choice when he took Charles to Mexico without even letting you know that they were alive. It doesn’t matter that he had his reasons for doing so, it doesn’t matter how much it killed him inside – he made his choice and he should have to live with it, without disturbing your peace and asking any of this of you.

He justifies it by telling himself that it’s for Charles, and Caliban. Maybe it’s his pride, but he refuses to make his ailing health your responsibility. Asking you to help with Charles is already asking too much.

He turns down a dirt road, following the approximate – not exact – instructions that Caliban had provided. Thankfully, it’s a small town in both size and population, so it doesn’t take him too long to find the neighborhood that Caliban had described.

He knows he has found the right house when he sees your car. He recognizes it instantly due to the cracked rear bumper that you still have yet to have replaced and its unique sage green color that peaks through the light dusting of snow.

He pulls into your driveway, parking his limousine next to your vehicle and turns off the engine. He takes in the appearance of your home – a small, cozy cabin with smoke erupting from the chimney. All of your curtains are pulled closed but there’s enough light peaking through them for him to know that you’re inside.

The thought occurs to him that he might not find you alone. It’s been over a year – you could have found someone to build a life with. They could pull into this very driveway at any moment. Hell, you could have a baby for all he knows. He might be seconds away from learning that you have a whole family of your own–

His thoughts only stop spiraling when he sees your front door swing open, your face peeking around the frame a second later. Confusion is etched across your features as you notice the limousine parked in front of your porch.

You don’t yet know that it’s him due to the limousine’s tinted windows, he realizes.

You exit the house, stepping onto your front porch with your arms crossed over your chest as you wait for the driver of the vehicle to make themselves known.

You haven’t aged a day. Your hair being longer than the last time he saw you is the only physical proof that any time has passed at all.

Logan attempts to clear his face of all of the emotions coursing through him and opens the driver’s side door, stepping out of the vehicle.

Thanks to the adamantium poisoning his body, his eyesight has started to decline over the last few months. But Logan doesn’t need to have his glasses on to know that you look like you’re seeing a ghost.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you in a cautious voice. He stays planted where he’s at, waiting for you to respond before coming any closer to the front porch steps.

He swears he watches you go through all five stages of grief in under a minute. Confusion fades to shock, shock turns to denial, and denial morphs into anger before you’re left with a blank expression.

“I know I’ve got a lotta explaining to do,” Logan starts. “If you’ll let me, I’ll answer every question you have. I’m just asking you to hear me out.”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint that he possesses to not walk up the steps of your porch and wrap you in his arms. He may be standing just a few feet away from you, but it doesn’t feel real. He’s convinced that at any moment, he’ll wake up back in his pathetic excuse of a bedroom in the smelting plant.

You take a few small, tentative steps forward. Your eyes never leave his, an unreadable expression on your face. Logan can’t tell if you’re trying to decide if he’s real, if you’re about to jump into his arms, or if you’re about to yell at him to get the fuck out of here.

You come to a stop on the bottom porch step.

“What’s the deal with the limousine?” You nod towards the vehicle behind him.

“I’m uh – I’m a limousine driver,” he answers lamely.

“A limousine driver,” you repeat with raised brows, though it doesn’t sound like a question. “You know, there have been a lot of nights that I’ve laid awake wondering where you’re at and what you’re doing. Of all the possibilities, I never considered limo driver.”

Logan opens his mouth to respond, but quickly shuts it again when you turn on your heel, walking back up the steps and to the front door. You pause before you cross the entryway, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Take your shoes off at the door. Don��t be tracking snow into my house.”

Logan watches you retreat into the house, his body frozen in place. As far as initial reactions go, he supposes that could have been significantly worse – but he knows he isn’t out of the woods yet.

He follows you inside, kicking his boots off at the door and closing it behind him.

The inside of your house is warm, thanks to the gentle fire going in the fireplace in your den. It’s cozy – you’ve decorated for the approaching holidays. Garland and twinkling lights adorn your mantle, and in the corner of the living room is an elaborately decorated tree. The whole place smells like a mixture of the candle burning on your coffee table and whatever you have cooking in the kitchen.

It's not just cozy, he thinks. It’s homey. And he’s about to ask you to leave it all for a dirty, grimy, old smelting plant.

He follows you into the small kitchen, where you stir something in a giant pot on your stove.

“Do I even want to know how you found me?”

He can tell that you’re trying to maintain a level tone, but he doesn’t miss the way that your voice shakes and rises an octave on the last word.

He clears his throat, pulling out a chair for himself at your dining room table.

“His name is Caliban. He’s a mutant who can track other mutants. I asked him to find you.”

You hum in response, continuing to tend to the food in the pot with your back turned to him. Logan knows that telling you he asked Caliban to track you down is just the tip of the iceberg here, but he doesn’t want to throw too much at you at once. So he watches as you grab a variety of seasonings from the cabinet above you, and lets you take your time with questioning him further.

“And why did you ask him to find me?”

“For Charles,” Logan answers. “I didn’t want to disturb you after all this time. I know you’re probably angry and you have every right to be but.. his seizures. They’re getting worse. The medications that I give him aren’t helping like they used to.”

You cover the pot with a lid, and turn the dial on the stove down to low before turning to face him. You lean up against the counter, your arms once again crossed over your chest – a telltale sign that you’re on edge, Logan remembers well.

“You mean the seizures that killed a bunch of our friends and have caused the United States government to classify his brain as a weapon of mass destruction?”

Logan gives you a curt nod. “Yeah. Those seizures. We’ve been living in an abandoned smelting plant just south of the border in Mexico. He mostly stays inside an old water tower. The metal it's made from helps keep the seizures contained to the immediate area around us, but.. they’re getting stronger. Happening more frequently.”

You chew on your lower lip, a passive expression on your face as you take in Logan’s words. You don’t meet his gaze, your stare fixated on something on the other side of the room.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” Logan counters.

You turn away from him again, reaching into a cabinet to grab two bowls. Logan watches as you ladle some kind of soup or stew into the bowls and pull two spoons from a drawer.

You place one bowl in front of him, and the other at a chair across from him before retrieving a bottle of dark colored wine and two glasses.

“It’s only been a year since I last saw you but you look about ten years older,” you finally answer as you uncork the bottle and fill the two glasses. You push one across the small table. “Sorry. I haven’t had much of a reason to keep any whiskey on hand.”

Logan’s not surprised by the observation – you’re not wrong. He knows the adamantium poisoning his body has taken a toll on his physical appearance. His hair and beard have started to gray, his skin appears more leathered, his under eyes more crinkled.

After barely aging a day in decades, the difference between a year ago and today must look drastic to you.

But that isn’t why he’s here. He can handle some aches and pains, some coughing fits, and all of the other ailments that come with typical aging. He can hide it all from you – he won’t make that your burden to bear in addition to asking you to help with Charles.

“Yeah, well,” Logan starts, staring down at the stew in front of him to avoid your gaze. “That’s what working night shifts and taking care of a ninety-seven year old disabled psychic with Alzheimer’s induced mega seizures does to a person.”

“No one asked you to do that, Logan. I would have helped you if you had given me the chance. I would have followed you any–”

“I know,” Logan cuts you off. “I know you would have. But I had just watched almost everyone that I love die. I couldn’t risk it, letting you get hurt too. Staying away from you for the last year, it’s.. it’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I did it because I knew it would mean you’re safe.”

You’re silent. Your lips quiver, and Logan loses his appetite at the way your eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears.

“Did you at least think about reaching out?”

If your watery eyes make Logan lose his appetite, the brokenness in your voice makes him feel sick with himself.

“Every single day.”

He doesn’t tell you that you frequent his dreams, or that he thinks of you every time a Pink Floyd song comes on the radio, or that he hears your voice in the back of his mind telling him to drink more water when all he’s had that day is coffee and bourbon.

He wants to. But he doesn’t.

You give a small nod to his answer, but otherwise say nothing. You pick up your spoon and take a small, unenthusiastic bite of the food in front of you. Logan forces his attention to his own stew, not really wanting to eat but knowing that he needs to – he had only stopped for gas and a bathroom break once during the drive here. He hasn’t eaten anything since he choked down a stale granola bar before leaving Mexico early this morning.

The two of you sit in a loaded silence. Despite how heavy it feels, he can’t help but feel more relaxed in your presence than he has in a long, long time.

Your spoon clinks against the empty bowl when you finish eating. Logan looks up to see you gulping down the last of your wine.

You sigh. A long, exaggerated sigh.

“Why couldn’t you have shown up yesterday, before I put up all of my Christmas decorations?”

••••••

Logan thinks that the interior of his limousine will smell like a Christmas tree threw up in it for the next few months.

Not that he’s complaining. The sickeningly sweet scent of balsam is a small price to pay for you agreeing to come to Mexico.

He knows he probably shouldn’t feel as relieved as he does – he doesn’t even know if your powers will be effective in helping with Charles’ seizures.

But he can't lie to himself. The entire time he spent the better part of the night helping you pack your things into totes to load into your car and his limousine, he was on edge – afraid that you'd change your mind at any moment.

Of course he felt relieved when he watched your car pull out of your driveway after typing the smelting plant’s address into your GPS early this morning.

Approximately eleven hours later, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to be in Mexico. The drive to Colorado, packing for hours into the night and then getting a few hours of shut eye on your couch, and then the drive back to the smelting plant has taken a toll on him.

His hips ache from sitting for so long and he’s experiencing what has to be a pinched nerve in his lower back.

That’s a first for him.

When he arrives back home, he’s relieved to find that he got here before you. Maybe he’ll have enough time to take a long, hot shower and let some max strength ibuprofen go into effect before you can notice the way that he hobbles inside.

“Oh, thank God,” Caliban exhales when he sees the door open and Logan limps inside. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts. Did you even think to check if I was alive? He could have had a seiz—”

“Sorry,” Logan grunts, walking past him to retrieve the bottle of painkillers from a cupboard in the kitchen. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied, trying to get back here as soon as possible and what not.”

He tosses back four pills dry and then turns to face him again. “And I knew you weren’t dead. You blew up my phone enough to assure me of that.”

“Well, a reply or two keeping me updated would have been nice. Tracking you only tells me so much.”

Logan rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

“She’s on her way here now. How’s that for an update?” He pushes past Caliban, just wanting to go stand under a painfully hot stream of water.

“You actually managed to get her to agree to come here?”

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Logan grabs a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen counter and starts walking towards his room. “And get the spare room cleaned up for her.”

••••••

“I know it isn’t much, but I’m gonna get you a better mattress tomorrow.”

A few hours later, long after Caliban and Charles have retired to the old water tower for the night, Logan stands in front of where you perch on the edge of the twin sized cot in your bedroom – if it can even be called that right now.

Aside from the sad excuse of a bed, the only other things in the room are a small bedside table with a lamp, and several storage totes containing your belongings that Caliban had brought in from Logan’s limousine.

If he’d had more time to prepare, he would’ve done more, but just forty-eight hours ago he never would have guessed that you would actually be sitting here in front of him.

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “It’ll be better once I have some of my things unpacked.”

“Right,” Logan nods. “Well, I'll leave you to that then. Just.. let me know if you need anything.”

He turns to exit the room, but freezes when he grabs the doorknob. He turns back around, and finds you looking at him expectantly – almost hopeful.

“I appreciate it. You coming here. You don’t owe me anything after the way I just ran off without any explanation. But I'm really glad that you’re here.”

His heart swells when he sees the way that your expression softens. You’re too good, too forgiving and understanding. The fact that you let him into your home, served him dinner, and packed up your entire life into a few boxes and came here after a year of no contact proves it.

He takes a step closer to you, trying his hardest to ignore the sharp burn that radiates from his lower back as he forces his body forward. Despite how hard he tries to hide the discomfort, you seem to notice that something is bothering him – he can tell by the way your brows furrow together and your mouth sets in a harsh line. You scoot back a few inches on the cot mattress, making room for him to take a seat next to you.

“And I just want you to know that I’m sorry,” he continues, cutting you off before you can even ask if he’s okay.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to hear me say it. I’m sorry for the way I handled things. It wasn’t fair to you. I was just scared shitless and wanted to do what I could to keep you safe. Getting as far away from you as possible seemed like the best way to do that at the time.”

Logan internally curses his rambling. Typically a man of few words, he can’t help but feel silly at the sentiment. You’d always had a way of drawing a level of vulnerability from him that no one else ever had. He still feels that effect today.

“I understand why you did what you did, Logan,” you start. You look at him with such understanding that he feels himself physically relax at your words.

“It just… hurt.” You give a small shrug, bringing your hands together to dig your nails into your palms. “I lost my friends too, you know? You and Charles included. I know that you and I, we were never…” you trail off, but he knows what you mean without saying it.

Together. Never truly together.

A million almosts that never amounted to what he truly wanted run through his mind. He’d long ago accepted that you and him would never be more than an unspoken thing but the reminder of it still stings, coming from your lips.

“Anyway,” you shake your head. He wonders if you’re thinking of the same memories that he is – the seemingly small ones.

The ones that he wouldn’t have expected to stick with him, but ended up haunting him. Having a drink in the mansion’s courtyard together after particularly exhausting missions – or even just particularly exhausting days of teaching children. Walking into the kitchen to find you making lunch – and you just so happened to have made enough for him, too. You, on the back of his motorcycle with your arms secured around his stomach, your bodies pressed as close together as they ever had been.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still hurt over it. But the truth is, I was too relieved to find you standing in my driveway to tell you to leave. And I missed you too much to not come back here with you.”

Your voice is barely a whisper by the time you finish speaking. A singular tear leaks from the corner of your eye, which you hastily wipe away.

“Just don't fucking do that again, okay? I definitely wouldn’t be as forgiving if it happened a second time.”

“I wouldn't forgive myself if it happened a second time,” Logan tells you – and he means it. He still doesn’t know if he can forgive himself as is. But you seem to forgive him, and that's enough for him for the time being. “I promise. M’not going anywhere.”

“Good,” you murmur with a small smile, seemingly content with his reassurance. “So, about Charles… I was thinking, if the seizures are as bad as you've told me, I probably won't be much use if he's actively having one. I was thinking that starting tomorrow, I could try to work with him using my powers little bits throughout the day. Not too much at once so he doesn't get frustrated.”

You're right. There’s nothing that anyone can do once one of Charles’ seizures begins, except for Logan. It’s solely due to his healing factor that Logan is able to muster enough strength to administer one of Charles’ injections during a seizure. Humans – as well as mutants like you and Caliban – are rendered incapacitated.

“I’ll let him know that you’re here in the morning,” Logan nods in agreement. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

“I hope so,” you sigh. “I’ve missed him.”

As content as he’d be to sit here and talk to you all night, you’ve both had long days of driving and tomorrow brings a lot of uncertainty, so he knows that he should let you get some rest.

“We should probably try to get some sleep,” he says reluctantly. He starts to push himself off of the cot when the nerve in his lower back catches and causes him to hiss in pain. He tries to play it off, hoping you didn’t notice the way he visibly grimaced at the sudden sharp pain.

“Logan? What's wrong?” You ask, concern etched in your voice. He refuses to meet your gaze, knowing it'll be harder to lie to you if he looks you in the eyes. Instead he forces one foot in front of the other, and takes a slow step forward.

“It’s nothin’. Just stiff from driving so much is all.”

He feels your hand wrap around his wrist as he starts to take another step, stopping him in place. He hangs his head, still refusing to look at you. He doesn't think he can handle the concern and worry that is undoubtedly written on your face.

“If you were anyone else on the planet, I might believe that.” You stand up next to him, and your grip on his wrist only tightens. His face heats up; a side effect of your questioning stare and close proximity.

“But I’ve seen you get impaled with a crow bar before. It healed before I even had time to fret over you. So what’s really going on?”

It hits him how naïve he was to ever believe that he’d be able to easily conceal what’s been happening inside his body from you. The effects of the adamantium poisoning have been becoming more physically apparent for a while now, and you of all people – someone so familiar with not only illness and injury, but also him – were bound to pick up on the fact that something is very different than the last time you saw him.

He finally looks at you, your face every bit as concerned as expected.

“My healing factor has started to slow down,” he says delicately, trying to keep his tone even. The last thing he wants to do is freak you out even more.

“Slow down? How?”

“The shit my bones are made of seems to finally be aging me.” He chooses to forgo using the word poison, but still answers as honestly as he can bring himself to.

“But you don’t need to worry yourself with that, ‘kay? That’s not why you’re here. Some back pain isn’t anything that I can’t handle,” he quickly adds when distress distorts your features.

You purse your lips, leaving him wondering how you’re going to respond.

There’s a sudden sensation radiate from where the skin of your palm and fingers are wrapped around his wrist – it’s a soft vibration, soothing and serene. It starts at his hand and travels up his arm before expanding through his chest, back, and eventually down to the soles of his feet.

For a few moments, he feels like he’s floating. The weight of the adamantium bones disappear for the first time in decades, leaving him feeling feather light. The feeling fades away as gradually as it appeared, and with it subsides the pinching in his lower back.

He realizes that he’s looking at you as if you grew a second head. He doesn’t know why he’s so taken off guard – he’s seen your powers first hand before. He just never imagined there would be a time that he’d actually learn how it feels to be on the receiving end of them.

He glances down at where you finally release your hold on his hand. When you pull away, he sees the remnants of a purple glow emanating from your palm.

“I figured you would have said no if I had asked beforehand. Am I wrong?”

“No,” he admits in a gruff tone. “Guess not.”

“Well? How does your back feel now?” You look at him with raised brows, as if you don’t already know the answer.

“Better. But don’t make a habit out of that. I want you saving your energy for Charles.”

Truthfully, he physically feels the best that he has in months. In addition to his back being free of the sharp pinching sensation, the chronic stiffness that has plagued his body is gone. Even his eyesight seems clearer.

But he thinks back to one of his earliest memories of you – the one that had presented itself in his most recent dream. He remembers the vibrancy of your power gradually dimming as you grew more tired and the way that your forehead glistened with sweat when you were worn out from excessive use of your powers.

You roll your eyes and plop back down on the edge of your cot.

“I’m more than capable of helping you and Charles both. Do you think I’d really let you suffer, knowing you’re in discomfort?”

He knows that trying to fight you on this is as about as useful as arguing with a brick wall.

“I don't doubt your capability,” he tells you gently as he eases towards the door to your room. “But I'm not the priority here. Now get some rest, alright?”

Your response is a brief nod that tells him he hasn’t heard the last of this conversation.

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Just down the hallway, he traces the tips of his fingers over where your hand had been wrapped around his until he falls into the most peaceful and comfortable sleep he’s had in over a year.

••••••

“She’s a healer. She worked at the school as a nurse and teacher. You remember her, yeah? She’s here to see if she can help us out some.”

Logan hands Charles a double dose of pills and watches until he’s swallowed them. They are already running low on the seizure suppressants as is, but he makes him double up anyway. He’d rather be on the safe side, since you are going to be working with Charles this morning.

“Of course I remember her,” Charles retorts after he’s taken the pills. “As if I could ever forget with how often I see her face appear in your mind.”

“Could you do me a favor and not mention that, maybe?” Logan grumbles. He doesn’t doubt that it’s true, but he’d prefer Charles to not mention it within the first five minutes of seeing you.

The door to the old water tower creaks open, allowing midday sun to infiltrate the dim space as you come inside. Caliban enters behind you.

“Hi, Charles,” you greet him cheerfully “It's so nice to see you.”

Your voice doesn’t give it away, but Logan notices the nervousness in your gait – in the way that your posture is rigid and your footsteps are shorter and quicker than normal as you walk over to them.

Charles gives you a smile – the first genuine smile that Logan has seen from him in as long as he can remember.

“Hello, my dear,” he beams at you. “We’ve missed you.”

You return his smile with a bashful one of your own, and wring your hands together in front of you.

“I’ve missed you guys, too,” you say, your eyes flickering between him and Logan. “I’m glad to be here. I’m going to be using my powers to try to get your seizures under control. Is that okay with you?”

“Anything sounds better than these two cramming pills down my throat like clockwork,” he grunts with a glare at Logan and Caliban.

“It’s not exactly fun for us either, you know,” Caliban scoffs.

“Enough, you two,” Logan interjects when Charles opens his mouth to respond. “We—” he motions to himself and Caliban, “are going to give them some privacy.”

He'd be lying if he said the thought of leaving you alone with Charles during what will undoubtedly be a vulnerable time didn’t make him nervous. But he doesn’t want to overcrowd and overwhelm him, either.

Though a large majority of Charles’ seizures are random, many have been brought on by a state of a emotional distress, too.

He knows that he doesn’t exactly possess a natural aura of peace like you do.

A hint of anxiety flashes across your features before you quickly compose yourself. Logan starts to follow Caliban’s lead to the door, but stops when he's directly in front of you.

He reaches out and almost puts a hand on your waist before he thinks twice of it. His fingers linger awkwardly at your hip for a moment before he drops the hand back down to his side.

“I'll be close by, okay? If you need anything,” he says to you lowly. He glances over his shoulder to see Charles now tending to his bonsai tree, not paying attention to anyone around him.

“I know,” you assure him with a smile and nod of your head. “Don’t worry. I won’t push him. If he starts to get agitated, frustrated, bored… I’ll stop immediately.”

Logan gives you one final, short nod before reluctantly following Caliban outside and back into the smelting plant.

“You sure do seem to be getting around well for someone who could barely walk yesterday,” Caliban says in a faux casual voice as he tugs the balaclava style mask off of his head as soon as he is out of the sunlight.

Logan sighs and curses under his breath, already knowing the direction that this conversation is headed.

“Now that I'm thinking about it, I also didn't hear you having any nightmares all the way from the water tower last night. Must have had a good night’s sleep.”

“What's your point?” Logan snaps. He yanks the fridge open, scanning the scarce shelves for something to eat.

He really needs to go to the grocery store once you've finished up with Charles. And buy you an actual bed. And stock back up on Charles’ medications –

“No point,” Caliban continues, “Just glad to see that you changed your mind about telling her about your condition is all. Even if you did threaten me within an inch of my life to not tell her right before you left for Colorado.”

“What can I say,” Logan grunts. “She isn't blind. She clocked it within an hour of being here.”

Logan spends the next hour alternating between pacing the floor of the smelting plant and smoking cigars outside of the water tower. He reminds himself repeatedly that everything must be going okay, because if it wasn't, he would know by now.

He also reminds himself of the intense feeling of tranquility that came over him when he felt the effects of your powers. He can’t imagine anyone not finding it euphoric – even Charles, in all of his stubbornness.

He's finishing up a cigar when you exit the water tower after what feels like an eternity. He immediately stubs it out, remembering how you used to tease him about getting cancer if he didn’t stop smoking.

It wouldn’t surprise him if that was an actual possibility for him these days.

“How’d it go?” he greets you. He tries to keep his voice neutral – doesn’t want to make it obvious how anxious he’s been for the last hour. “Did he do okay?”

“I guess we won’t really know until he either has a seizure or… doesn’t,” you sigh. “He did surprisingly well. But the damage that the Alzheimer’s has done to his brain is widespread. I doubt there’s much reversing it. My goals are to reduce the severity and frequency of the seizures and to stop the damage from progressing any further.”

The two of you walk side by side back to the smelting plant, where Logan opens the door for you.

“So that means that I might be staying here for quite some time.”

You ease past him through the small doorframe, your chest grazing against him ever so slightly. The familiar light scent of vanilla and honey lingers after you’re walking away.

Were you just smirking at him or is he hallucinating?

Scratch that, were you just flirting with him?

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that.”

He didn’t expect you to go back to Colorado anytime too soon, given how much you packed – and the fact that your fucking Christmas tree sits in the common area – but he can't ignore that hearing you imply that you have no intention of leaving in the immediate future brings him more comfort than it probably should.

With your back turned to him as you open the refrigerator, he’s unable to see your expression, but he hears you hum in response – a sound somewhere between amusement and contentment.

“But if I'm going to be staying here for any amount of time, the food situation is going to have to improve. How do you live like this?”

He sighs, remembering the current state of the fridge and cabinets. He ended up settling on an overripe banana for breakfast. He normally reserves grocery shopping for his off days – Mondays or Tuesdays – but those days had been occupied with traveling to and from Colorado this week.

“I’ve got some errands to run today,” he starts, feeling an inkling of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach. “Get some groceries and refills on Charles’ medications… if you wanted to come with me.”

He tells himself that he invites you because it just makes sense – of course you need to familiarize yourself with the area that you're going to be living in, even if it's just temporary. It's important to know where the closest grocery store, and gas station, and pharmacy is.

And it also just makes sense that he would be the one who to show you around. Charles can't even go to the bathroom by himself and Caliban is allergic to the sun.

That's what he tells himself, anyway.

“I could be persuaded to go with you,” you drawl. “If…” You trail off, leaving Logan to look at you with a cocked brow.

“If you let me ride in the backseat of your limousine?”

••••••

“Well? Was it everything you thought it would be?”

Logan sits directly across from you in a small booth at a mom-and-pop diner. It’s nearly noon and you had yet to eat today, so Logan made the last minute decision to pull into the restaurant’s parking lot after acquiring Charles’ medications.

“What?” you question as you swallow a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes. It may not be breakfast time anymore, but he knew you would appreciate the fact that this place serves all day breakfast.

“Being chauffeured around in a limousine.”

“For some reason the limo smelled like a Christmas tree farm exploded in it,” you say nonchalantly. “But the driver insisted on taking me out for all you can eat pancakes so I’m still going to leave him a good review.”

“I’m sure he had a perfectly good reason for his limo smelling like that,” he retorts in mock defense. “But he probably should try to take care of that before he goes back to work tonight,” he adds, making a mental note to pick up some air freshener at the store.

A cheeky grin spreads across your face. You look like you’re about give him some kind of smart remark when the waitress walks over to the booth with a steaming pot of coffee.

“Good to see you in here with someone for a change,” the older woman, who Logan knows is named Lucille without having to look at her name tag, remarks as she tops off both of your mugs. “Did you finally take my advice?” She asks Logan.

“Every time he comes in here I tell him that he needs to get on one of those dating apps,” she says to you before he can answer.

You immediately cover your mouth to keep from spewing your coffee across the table.

Logan’s face heats up by ten degrees. He should have known better than to trust Lucille to be able to read the room.

“No,” he snaps. “I have not downloaded Tinder. Or Bumble, or Hinge. Maybe you should give them a try and stop worrying about my love life.”

He shoos her away, but she just cackles and slaps him on the shoulder.

“Honey, I’ve been married for forty-five years.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s your ring?” He asks, nodding towards her naked ring finger.

“We’re not allowed to wear jewelry on the clock, Nosey Nelly,” she jabs back. You sit silently, watching the interaction with pursed lips to keep from laughing.

“Nosey Nelly,” Logan grumbles under his breath as he fishes his wallet out of his pants pocket. He pulls out his debit card and slaps it into her palm.

You finally release a snort of laughter when Lucille waddles away.

“I take it that’s your best friend?”

“Believe it or not, she’s an improvement from Caliban.”

The two of you finish your meal with easy flowing conversation. You tell him what led you to Colorado, and about how you worked part time at a veterinarian’s office and part time at a bookstore. He tells you about some of the drunk, unhinged customers that he's had in his limousine lately.

It’s easy for him to forget that less than forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t seen you in over a year.

Before your lives were irrevocably altered, you had been one of the closest friends he had ever had. One of the most important people in his life. Sitting across from you now, it’s too easy for him to remember why that was.

••••••

Logan’s reluctant to go to work tonight.

And it’s not just because he fucking hates his job and isn’t in the mood to tolerate the bachelor party currently occupying his backseat.

To an extent, he’s always nervous to go to work. He works night shifts because Charles sleeps at night, and is therefore less likely to be triggered into a seizure during the nighttime hours. It’s the safest time for Logan to be away.

It hasn’t happened before, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t. And with you now at the smelting plant, he worries about it happening while he’s away even more than he typically would.

He arrives at the strip club that the groom had requested he drive to and parks. They all drunkenly stagger out of the back of the vehicle, leaving Logan to relish in the silence after the door slams shut.

He pulls his phone from his coat pocket and sees that he has no messages.

He’d told you to text him if you needed anything, so it’s a good thing that you haven’t, right?

It’s just before midnight, so you're most likely asleep. The lack of a text is probably not anything as drastic as the conclusions that his brain is jumping to.

Still, he can't stop his fingers as he types out a message and hits send.

How’s the new bed?

After your brunch date – Lucille's words, not his – the two of you bought enough groceries to feed four people for a week and then went to the only furniture store in town to find you an upgrade from the fold out cot that they'd happened to have on hand when you arrived.

His phone dings just a minute later. He releases the breath he’d been holding before even reading your response.

It’s a major improvement. You were right - not too soft, not too firm. Though it feels a whole lot bigger than it did in the store.

He reads over the text at least five times and thinks back to your time in the mattress store earlier that day.

The first couple mattresses you tested out were too soft, the next few too firm. Logan didn’t mind that you were being indecisive – really. He was secretly relieved to have an excuse to spend more time with you, away from Caliban and Charles.

He laid down on a mattress that you hadn’t checked out yet and instantly thought that it was significantly better than his personal mattress at the smelting plant.

“What about this one?” He asks, patting the empty space next to him on the queen sized bed. You walk over to the opposite side of the bed and crawl in beside him. With your arms down at your sides, one rests against his. The mattress is more than big enough for you, but with him next to you, it’s a cozy fit.

He types: Is that a good thing or a bad thing? and presses send before he can overthink it. His screen shows that you read the message right away, and he can’t help but imagine the smirk on your face as you lay tucked beneath the covers.

The words ‘What do you think?’ appear on his screen.

He thinks he feels like a fucking teenager with the way that a few harmless, borderline flirtatious text messages from you has him imagining what it would be like to really share the bed with you.

His jeans begin to feel uncomfortably tight. He clicks the phone off and tosses it in the empty passenger seat beside him, before he says something that crosses a line that he can’t uncross.

••••••

The relief that your powers had provided Logan had been blissful but short-lived.

By the time he gets home from work at around four in the morning, his back pain has returned with a vengeance.

Everyone is asleep when he gets in, of course. He hobbles to his room as quietly as he can. Caliban and Charles are in the water tower, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. He hopes that by the time that you’re both awake later today, the pain will have subsided in his sleep.

Two hours after he lies down, he realizes that sleeping it off is an impossibility with the amount of discomfort he’s in. He’s done nothing but toss and turn in a futile attempt to find a comfortable sleeping position, the extra strength ibuprofen and his heating pad only doing so much to ease the stabbing sensation at the base of his spine.

He knows the answer to his problem is just down the hallway.

But it's early – the sun is just now starting to rise and he has yet to hear you stir from your room. He can't bring himself to wake you up over some back pain, knowing that you'll need to use your powers to help Charles soon.

He sits up with a deep groan, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. If he already can't sleep, he may as well make something to eat and settle the rumbling in his stomach.

Taking slow, short strides, he walks back down the hallway to the kitchen as quietly as he can manage.

He comes to a halt when he sees your door open, your head popping out from around the frame.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, your voice huskier than normal with sleep.

“How’d you guess?”

You step into the hallway, still in a pair of plaid sleep pants and an oversized crewneck.

“Your bed creaks every time you move.” You cross your arms over your chest, standing less than half a foot away from him. There’s evident concern on your face when you take in his stiff posture. “This place has thin walls.”

“Sorry to keep you awake.” He looks down at the ground, embarrassed. “I’ll stay in the living roo—”

“Don’t be silly,” you stop him. You grab his hand in yours and begin to pull him back in the direction of his bedroom.

He thinks about protesting – part of him wants to tell you that you shouldn’t bother. He thinks he should tell you that he appreciates it, but he’s a lost cause, and the relief will only be temporary.

But your hand is too warm and your skin is too soft and in the end, he isn’t strong enough to deny himself the feeling of your touch, so he let’s you lead the way to his bed.

You drop his hand to position yourself on one side of the bed. You don’t get underneath the comforter, but you do pull it back on his side so that he can crawl beneath it.

His isn’t quite as big as your new bed – it’s only a full size mattress, so it’s even more cramped than when the two of you laid on the mattress in the store yesterday, but he isn’t complaining.

It's unchartered territory for you two, this type of intimacy. He doesn’t remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone, but if there’s one person on the planet that he trusts enough to allow next to him in such a vulnerable state, it’s you.

“Lay however is most comfortable for you,” you instruct him gently.

He maneuvers onto his side, facing you. You copy his position, your faces inches away from each other’s on a shared pillow.

“Now close your eyes,” you whisper.

He does as you ask, and then feels your palm rest against the thick stubble of his jaw. Your thumb grazes across the skin of his cheekbone. He melts into your touch before you’ve even started using your powers.

“Is this okay?” you murmur.

“Mm-hmm,” he sighs against your hand. “Could just lay like this for a while and I’d probably fall asleep. Don’t even need to use your powers.”

You snort and run the tips of your fingers through his beard.

“How about I do both? That okay?”

He nods, too tired to think about stopping you.

He falls asleep to the soft hum of your powers within minutes, and dreams of the color purple.

••••••

Over the next few weeks, everyone falls into a comfortable routine.

You continue to work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and then again in the evenings. Your powers help him more than Logan ever could have hoped for. Not only is this the longest he’s gone without having a seizure in months, but he’s also increasingly lucid and alert, and more like his old, spunky self than ever.

Most weeknights you cook dinner for everyone, and Tuesdays become the day that you join Logan in going to town for a weekly grocery restock and brunch at the same diner that he first took you to a few weeks ago.

He tries not to make it too obvious, but it quickly becomes one of the best parts of his week – even with Lucille’s relentless teasing about how there’s “no way you’re just friends” and Logan would be “the biggest idiot on the planet to not lock you down”.

Neither of you ever put much energy into disagreeing with her.

The other best parts of his week occur early in the mornings, before daylight breaks and Charles and Caliban are still sound asleep. He gets home from work and you move from your bed and into his, relieving him of any physical discomfort he could be experiencing from hours of driving around and lulling him to sleep.

The first few nights, he’d wake hours later to find that you had escaped back to your own room after he’d fallen asleep. Then, one morning, when he woke up, he opened his eyes to find your face resting against his shoulder.

You stopped bothering to go back to your own room after that.

This evening – Christmas eve – Logan sits on his bed and stares at the gift that he’d gotten you while you finish preparing the dinner that you’d been working on for the last few hours.

He feels silly. There hadn’t been any discussion on getting each other gifts and he worries that it’ll make you feel weird.

It’s an espresso machine – nothing too fancy, but it’ll get the job done. You had recently mentioned how much you miss the espresso machine that you had in Colorado. The house you had been renting came furnished, which included an espresso machine that you were unable to bring with you to Mexico.

He stopped by a Target before work a couple nights ago and picked it out. To top off how silly he feels, he’d completely forgotten to buy wrapping paper or even a gift bag, so he’ll just be handing it to you as is.

“Dinner is almost ready!” He hears your voice call from the kitchen.

The smell of honey glazed ham and fresh rolls wafts down the hallway. He places the box containing the espresso machine on the floor beside his bed, planning to give it to you after Charles and Caliban go to bed in a few hours.

When he rejoins everyone in the common area, Charles is watching Home Alone and Caliban is gathering plates and silverware for everyone while you remove a large dish of baked mac and cheese from the oven.

“Smells great,” Logan compliments as he grabs a beer out of the fridge. “Anything I can help with?” he asks, as if you hadn’t all but shooed him out of the kitchen just an hour ago.

You place the casserole dish on a trivet before grabbing one of the plates that Caliban had set out.

“Yes, actually,” you say, surprising him. You hand him the plate with a small smirk. “You can make Charles a plate.”

“Oh, can I?” He takes a step closer to you, taking the plate and grinning down at you. “Are you sure you trust me to do that?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you’ve been alive two hundred years and haven’t taken the time to learn to cook.”

“Well, I guess I'll just have to have you teach me-"

“Would you two stop flirting and get me some ham?” Charles voice booms over the television and silences you both.

Logan notices you purse your lips to keep from smiling as you turn your attention back to the spread of food across the dining room table.

Soon, you’re all four sat around the dining room table with plates piled high with traditional holiday dishes. Logan is halfway through clearing his plate when Charles clears his throat to speak.

“This is wonderful,” he directs at you. “Thank you very much. You know, this all feels very familiar to me…” he trails off, glancing between you and Logan from across the table. The smile on his face fades, and in it’s place appears an expression of confusion.

From the corner of his eye, Logan sees your grip on your fork tighten.

“Thank you, Charles,” you tell him. You try to sound cheerful, but Logan doesn’t miss the nervous edge to your voice. He knows that you’re noticing the same thing as him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Yes, these candied sweet potatoes are delicious,” Caliban interjects in an obvious attempt to maintain easy conversation. “You'll have to give me your rec—”

“This feels so familiar,” Charles repeats and all three of you go silent.

In his gut, Logan fears that he knows what is coming. It always starts this way. One minute, everything will be perfect. The next, something triggers a memory, or a feeling, and Charles is hit with the weight of the past – with the weight of the trauma that his brain normally blocks out.

“This feels like… how Christmas used to feel. When we’d have dinner at the.. at the mansion. With all of our friends before I.. before I killed them—”

“Charles,” Logan says firmly, but Charles continues to stare into space. “It wasn't your fault. Okay? Let's enjoy this nice dinner. Do you want some more green beans—”

But he’s unable to finish his sentence before it begins. The exact thing he’s been the most terrified of since you arrived here weeks ago.

Across from him, Caliban's face is frozen in agony. Beside him, your mouth is open as if to scream, but no sound comes out. Every one around him is still, and his body suddenly feels a few hundred pounds heavier.

It's been weeks since Charles’ last seizure, but Logan knew it was too good to be true – knew that it was bound to happen again eventually. He'd planned for this, knowing the effects of the psionic energy would hurt you as they do Caliban.

Logan forces himself into a standing position by pushing off of the dining room table, and then takes as big of steps as he possibly can to get to the opposite side, where Caliban and Charles sit.

He ignores the blinding nerve pain all over his body, he ignores the intense ringing in his ears, he ignores the way it feels as if all of the air has been ripped from his lungs and reaches down to grab the bag of medication from the compartment beneath Charles’ wheelchair – where he's made sure to keep it, in case of this exact scenario.

Despite his shaking hands, he manages to retrieve an injection and uncap it. He jabs the tip of the needle into the flesh of Charles’ shoulder with as much force as he can muster, then collapses to the floor beside him.

Charles releases a grief stricken groan, realizing what had happened. Logan hears both you and Caliban gasping for air.

“I'm sorry,” Charles cries. “I'm so sorry..”

Logan pulls himself off of the ground using the edge of the table and instantly turns his attention to you. Your eyes are wide and your hands are visibly shaking in your lap, but you exhale the breath you'd been holding when your eyes meet Logan's.

You push your chair back, standing and closing the distance between the two of you. Your hands grip the tops of Logan's biceps. He instinctively rests his on the sides of your stomach.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice wobbly and several octaves higher than normal.

“I'm fine,” he assures you delicately. “Are you okay?”

You nod, hesitantly at first and then more confidently as you take him in and seem to realize that he really is alright.

“I'm fine too,” Caliban grunts from across the table. “Don’t worry yourselves with me.”

Logan and you both quickly retract your hands, breaking the embrace. You turn your attention to Charles, who seems to be in another world.

“Charles? Are you alright?” You ask him softly.

“Hm?” He hums as he glances up at you. “Oh, yes. I’m alright. I think.. I think I’d like to go to bed now,” he murmurs. Logan, you, and Caliban all exchange glances before Logan tosses the bag of medication to Caliban.

“Give him a double dose of the suppressants and some sleep medicine,” Logan instructs him. Caliban nods wordlessly and wheels Charles away from the dining room table, towards the smelting plant’s door.

Once they’ve left the building, Logan turns to you. You look visibly shaken, and he can’t blame you. He remembers all too well how frightening the effects of the seizure was the first time he experienced it. Even with this one being relatively short lived, he knows it had to have been more painful and scary for you than it was for him.

“I’ll clean all of this up, okay?” He says, gesturing towards the half eaten dinners and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “You go relax. Take a shower, lay down for a while—”

“Really, Logan. I'm okay, I prom—”

“Will you do that for me?”

To his surprise, you don't object any further. You give him a small nod, and a comforting squeeze to his hand as you walk past him.

He doesn't release the sigh of both relief and frustration that he’d been holding in until he hears the shower turn on a few moments later.

••••••

As soon as Logan finishes tidying up from dinner, he cuts two small slices of an apple pie you had baked and puts them on a plate for the two of you to share.

Your door is slightly cracked, the soft orange light from your table lamp spilling into the hallway. He knocks quietly and waits for you to tell him to come in.

You’re in your pajamas, tucked under a blanket with a book partially obscuring your face. You do little to acknowledge his presence, so he takes a seat on the edge of your bed and places the plate of pie beside him.

The room looks significantly different than it did just a few weeks ago. In addition to the new bed, you'd also acquired a vintage dresser and an area rug that you’d found for cheap at a thrift store. You have books in piles throughout the room, one of the things that you were most adamant about bringing with you from Colorado.

“Charles is alright,” he tells you gently. “He must have just been really tired. He didn’t nap much today. Caliban said he fell asleep really quickly after taking his medicine.”

“Except that wasn’t why he had a seizure,” you sigh, closing your book. Logan now has a better view of your face, and the first thing he notices is that your eyes look red-rimmed and watery. You sit up straight, and he inches closer to you on the bed.

“Hey, what’s going—”

“It was definitely my fault that he had a seizure,” you sniffle, looking at him with defeat.

“What? No,” Logan shakes his head. You have a blanket draped across your lap, but Logan places his hand on your knee over top of it. “What makes you say that?”

“I always work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and an hour in the afternoons,” you start, frustration evident in your voice. “But this afternoon, I cut our session short because he wasn’t really in the best mood and I wanted to get started on prep for dinner.”

You wipe underneath your eye with the sleeve of your shirt and look away from Logan’s gaze.

“Sweetheart, you can’t blame yourself for this,” he assures you as he rubs slow circles on your knee with his thumb. “He was having seizures almost every single day before you got here. You’re not the reason he had a seizure today. But you are the reason he’s been able to go weeks without having one.”

“Okay?” He prompts when you don’t respond. You finally look him in the eye again, and offer a small nod of agreement.

He hands you the plate of apple pie, earning a small smile from you.

“Wait here. I’ve got something for you,” he tells you as he stands up and begins walking towards your door.

“Something for me?” you question, but he’s already halfway down the hallway.

He grabs the espresso machine from beside his bed and heads back to your room. He still feels nervous to give it to you, but right now he’s just hoping that it will help cheer you up.

When he re-enters your room, you’re forking a bite of pie into your mouth and freeze when you see what he’s carrying. He sits back down on the edge of the bed, still holding the box. You sit the plate of pie on your bedside table and scoot closer to him.

“Logan, you didn’t have to,” you murmur. He hands you the box and you hug it to your chest, but only look at him. He thinks your eyes are starting to look watery again. “I feel so bad. I didn’t get you anything—”

He waves his hand in dismissal, not surprised at all by your reaction.

“I know I didn’t have to. Just wanted to. Is that okay?”

You inspect the espresso machine with a bashful grin. “Thank you. I love it,” you assure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “I just wish I had gotten you something, too.”

“That’s not necessary,” he says, staring down at where your hand holds his. “You give me everything I need just by being here.”

You go still at his words with a look he can’t quite read on your face. You pull your hand away from his before placing the espresso box on the floor next to your bed. The hand that previously held his comes to cradle his face, your thumb grazing along his cheekbone. He turns his head ever so slightly to the side so that his lips graze against your palm. He kisses the skin once, then twice, and your eyes flutter closed.

His heightened senses don’t miss the way your heart rate picks up, or the way that you hold your breath as his lips linger on your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs into the side of your hand. You open your eyes, your pupils dilated.

“Same thing I’ve been thinking about for years now,” you whisper as you lean forward, pulling his face to you.

You capture his lips in yours, opening up for him without hesitation. He slips his tongue into your mouth, the sensation simultaneously feeling brand new and like you’ve done this dance a hundred times before.

He scoots further back onto the mattress, away from the edge. He pulls you with him, guiding you onto his lap. You straddle him, his hands resting on your lower back. You fist your hands around the fabric of his flannel, pulling him flush against you.

It's years of pent up desire and longing that you pour into each other. You drag your teeth along the swell of his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth, resisting the urge to buck his hips up against your center.

He knew you looked sweet, smelled sweet – but never would he have guessed that you’d taste even sweeter. Even if it weren’t for the faint hint of cinnamon and apples from the pie you’d nibbled on, he’d think you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

You grind down against the uncomfortable bulge contained by his jeans and whimper – the prettiest sound he’s ever fucking heard and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You pull back, your chest heaving from lack of air.

“Why didn’t we do that years ago?” you ask breathlessly. He reaches up to your face, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he answers quickly. His eyes lock on your kiss swollen lips and he thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do right now – staring down at him with puffy lips wet with his kiss. “But now that I’ve kissed you, I’m not gonna stop. Gonna kiss you for as long as you’ll let me.”

And to prove his point, he starts trailing wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw and down your throat. You throw your head back, giving him unhindered access to the skin of your neck. He alternates between kissing and nipping the tender flesh, leaving a damp trail across your skin.

You grab at the hem of your shirt and Logan pulls away to allow you to tug it over your head. You’re left naked from the waist up and Logan is left feeling like his cock is going to break through the zipper of his jeans.

With your tits directly in front of his face, he latches his mouth to one nipple and palms the other in his hand. You rock yourself against his erection, chasing the relief that the friction provides you.

“Logan,” you pant from above him. “Please—”

He pulls his mouth away from you with a wet pop, leaving your nipple glistening and taut.

“Tell me what you want, honey.”

You let out a low whimper at the pet name and drag your fingers through his hair. He toys with the waistband of your pajamas pants, popping the elastic band lightly against your skin.

“Your mouth,” you say, the words somewhere between a whine and a plea. “I wanna feel your mouth on me.”

He groans at the bluntness of your words. Hearing you say that you want his mouth on you has his cock throbbing in his pants.

“Yeah?” He taunts as he maneuvers you off of his lap. He quickly tugs his own shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his chest, your mouth slightly agape.

He tilts your head so that you’re looking at his face again and tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

In that moment, he hopes you never stop looking at him like that.

“You gonna sit on my face?”

You nod, eagerly. You push your pajama pants down past your ass and thighs, and Logan helps pull them the rest of the way over your calves and ankles. You lean forward, reaching for the waistline of his jeans and fumbling with the button until it pops open.

He sees you completely naked before him and his brain goes momentarily blank. He can’t believe he actually gets to see you like this – bare for him and more perfect than he ever could have envisioned.

And believe him, he had tried. Nothing could have prepared him for how it actually feels to see you, touch you, taste you after years of yearning for you.

“Lay down for me?” You ask with a small laugh, snapping him out of his trance. He does as you ask, placing his head on one of your pillows.

You straddle his chest, your back to his face. He helps you inch backwards until your pussy hovers directly over his mouth. He pauses for a moment, spreading your thighs apart with his hands to give him a clear view of your already dripping cunt before yanking you the rest of the way down to his mouth.

You moan as soon as his tongue slides through your wet folds, bracing your hands on the defined planes of his chest. The sweet and salty tang of you fills his mouth and he has to resist moaning goddamn, I love you into your cunt.

He could get drunk off of the flavor of you.

You grind yourself against his face, your juices coating his beard and your inner thighs. He’s so focused on working you with his lips and tongue that he doesn’t even notice you pushing his jeans and boxers down until he feels his cock spring back and slap his lower belly.

“Fuck,” you moan at the sight of him. You pump him in your hand, smearing the pre-cum from his slit down his shaft. “You're so big. I don’t know how you’ll fit inside me.”

He hears you spit, then feels it drip across his tip. You smear the warm wetness down his length and press a kiss to the side of his cock before taking him in your mouth. The head nudges against the back of his throat before you pull back, then ease back in, slow and deep.

He’s always loved your lips, but right now he’s doesn’t think he could ever love them more. He wants to watch as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head along his length, but that’s going to have to wait for another time.

Right now, he’s right where he wants to be. He has your swollen clit locked between his lips, sucking on it to the point that your legs quiver around his head. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his stomach as you run your tongue down the entirety of his cock and stroke him in your hand.

“I’ve waited so long to taste you,” he grunts from beneath you. The vibrations of his voice making your pussy clench around the finger that he teases your hole. “This cunt’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

He eases his index finger past your entrance, your walls constricting around the digit. “And so fuckin’ tight,” he adds, pumping in and out of you as you begin to move forwards, then backwards, up, and then down – grinding against his finger.

“Logan, I'm gonna cum,” you cry and it makes his balls tighten. He feels it – the way you gush around his finger and the way your legs clench around his head.

You ride out your orgasm above him, and then collapses against his chest. Your skin is sticky with sweat against his, despite the fact that the current cold front has the smelting plant colder than normal tonight.

You roll off of him, falling onto the mattress next to him. Your slick glistens on your thighs in the soft glow of your lamplight. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, he thinks. You fucked out and delirious from your climax.

But he thinks he might fucking die if he has to spend one more second of his abnormally long life not knowing how it feels to be buried inside you.

He helps pull you into a sitting position, and then lays you down in his place. Your tits heave as you try to regain control of your breathing. He's on his knees, fisting himself in his hand as he nudges your knees open. Your eyes are locked on his cock, a look of half excitement and half terror.

“You can take it, honey. I know you can,” he coos.

He slaps the tip against your clit, then glides it up and down your wet length. Not entering you quite yet, but coating himself in your slick. He looks down at himself next to your pretty, wet cunt and imagines how it’ll be to see it sliding in and out of you.

“Just been a while, that’s all,” you say, pulling him down to the by the back of the neck. He lines himself up at your entrance, nudging just the tip in. Even that’s a stretch for you, he can tell by the way your mouth forms an O shape.

He goes still for a moment – for your sake, but for his own, as well. He has to adjust to the warm tightness of your pussy before he trusts himself to go any deeper.

“I know, baby. Been a while for me too. Been waiting for you for a long time.”

He slates his lips over yours, kissing you messy and deep as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. He stills again once he’s buried to the hilt, and breaks the kiss to look down at you.

“You okay?” He murmurs. He props himself up on one forearm by your head, and brings his free hand to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You give him another eager nod, and wrap your legs securely around his hips, hooking your ankles together just below his ass.

“Mm-hmm,” you sigh. “Need you to move now, Logan.”

With his cock throbbing inside you, he doesn’t make you tell him twice. His length drags along the soft, spongy interior of your walls as he pulls out and eases back in. He gives you a few languid, slow strokes to accommodate the newfound stretch before it's hard for him to hold back.

He gets lost in it all – in the wet, tight heat of your cunt, in the sounds that your bodies make as he repeatedly snaps into you, in every expression on your face and every noise that slips past your lips.

You snake your arms around his abdomen, your hands coming to rest on his lower back.

“H-how’s your back?” You stammer out as he continues to piston his hips forward.

“I've never been better,” Logan grunts, resting his sweat slicked forehead against yours.

It's the truth. He’s never felt better than he does right now, between your legs – even if he is feeling this in his back. He'll deal with any and all repercussions later, once he's felt you cum around his cock while you cry his name.

You smile up at him as if to say wanna bet?

You flatten your hands across his skin at the base of his spine, and he doesn’t have to be able to see it to know what you're doing. He's experienced the effects of your powers enough by now to recognize them instantly – the low vibration they emit and the immediate warmth that spreads throughout his body.

“Gonna make me cum, honey,” he warns you. “Feels too good.” He feels your walls constrict around him when he calls you honey.

“Kiss me and I’ll cum with you,” you tell him in a breathy voice that he could listen to talk in all fucking night.

He kisses you again, this time more hurried than anytime before as he chases both of your releases. He spills into you with a deep groan as your cunt spasms around him. You moan his name into his mouth until he stills inside you, the last ropes of his cum filling you up.

He isn’t sure how long the two of you stay like that – with him still tucked inside you, laying pressed against you with his face nuzzling the crook of your neck. You trail your fingers up and down his spine, the sensation the only thing grounding him to reality in his post orgasm haze.

Finally, he pulls back enough to look down at you.

“Stay here,” he says earnestly. “Stay with me. Don't go back to Colorado. One day, we’ll go anywhere you want to. Just the two of us. But right now, please stay—”

“Logan,” you shush him gently. “I wasn’t planning on going back to Colorado. Or anywhere without you.”

He exhales, and kisses you on the forehead before finally pulling out of you and plopping down beside you. He tucks you between his chest and his arm, your head resting just above his heart.

“You know, this new bed of yours is a whole lot comfier than mine,” he comments casually.

“Hmm,” you hum and tilt your head to look up at him. “You should probably sleep here tonight. For your back, of course.”

He laughs, sleep threatening to overtake him at any second. He presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“I'm not going anywhere without you, honey.”

••••••

some of my other logan works

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

by the end of the night - worst variant logan has nightmares and mutant reader with emotional regulation abilities helps him sleep better

claw kink drabble

thank you so much for reading 🫶🏻

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thalwri · 5 months ago

Text

LACED WITH HONEY

synopsis: zayne has been so stressed lately, you just had to step in and soothe his tension. and what better way for you to do that than in his workplace?

warnings: porn no plot, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f! receiving), masturbation, panty fucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

wc: 1,5k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

you just loved to visit zayne at the hospital. you enjoyed annoying him while he was doing his reports and dragging him out to nearby cafes so he could get a drink and a snack so that he wouldn’t drive himself mad from all the work.

it was one of those times when you as the hunter took care of your primary physician.

what you didn’t expect was that you’d be bent over his desk getting ploughed like it was your birthday. hell, it might just be.

his glasses were atop your head, your top was abandoned on the couch across his office, and your pretty tits were just about to slip out of the enclosure of your lacy bra– a deliberate choice of wear.

your white, lace panties were pushed to the side to give his handsomely heavy cock full access to your weeping pussy. you had just been craving him so much that you finished your missions in record time just to see him. just to devour him.

you had given yourself the pleasure of deepthroating him while he was on a call with his superior earlier, making him writhe and pant and whimper while you were having the best meal of the day, slurping and drinking up the slobbering wetness your skilful tongue and his precum produced.

it was just too good. so much so that zayne swiftly dropped the call just to fuck your pretty mouth and give you his undivided attention. you deserved all his energy, all his time.

and this wasn’t the first time you’d given him a surprise visit or had a brief moment with you at work. just last week he plopped you on his face to relieve his stress before his big eight-hour surgery, saying a taste of you would soothe his nerves for days. and that it did. in fact, he just had to thank you by treating you to a good few orgasms later that night.

“the door is open, you need to be quiet–“

“your entire department is stocked up with surgeries,” you moaned without restraint, intuitively glancing at the door adjacent to the desk even though you knew nobody was nearby. “i checked.”

his hands slowly gripped your ass, pushing the hem of your skirt up your waist to have more of your soft skin to grip before he rammed his cock right into you. his leaky cockhead bruised your cervix multiple times, stringing out a ramble of profane praises.

if it wasn’t for him holding your hands behind you, you would have been leaving scratches all over the glass pane of his desk.

“mm– doctor zayne,” you crooned, still managing to somehow tease him by wiggling your plump ass whenever his hips drew back before pounding into yours. “don’t you– oh fuck! d-don’t you feel better?”

“rejuvenated, my love,” he groaned, watching the ricochet of your ass move like rippling water. your joint loud moans and cries and the wet claps from your ministrations filled the silence of his office, heating up a lewd air in the otherwise cold and calm room.

you looked so divine in any position you were in, to see your face contort in absolute pleasure just from his touch… he felt so much pride.

he was all yours. yours to love, yours to fight alongside, yours to be treated by, and yours to please.

your moans sounded like music to him; a luxury he was always so grateful to have. telling him how his cock felt so deep inside you from behind and begging him for more.

zayne pulled out of you, leaving a gush of your wetness to ooze out, and gently tugged you upright to kiss you from behind. your tongues lashed and swirled in hunger and desire. your body swiftly turned to face him and you pushed him onto the chair.

eyes dilated and excited, zayne watched you shimmy your lacy panties off. a string of your erotic nectar stuck between your pussy and your panties until it broke of with an almost inaudible snap! you settled on his desk, pulling him closer to you by tugging his chair.

the white lace dangled on your finger like a pendulum, hypnotising zayne into a lustful gaze with his irises following each move. the sight of him so disarrayed, shirt ruffled and unbuttoned far enough to show his sweat-glistened chest, and his pink lips parted and red from your bites– it just made you even wetter.

“you said you miss me right?” you wrapped your cum-slick panties around his cock, reddened and leaking. “show me.”

so demanding. zayne almost came from your tone alone. he knew exactly what you wanted him to do, and he was not afraid to say he was happy you were thinking the same thing.

he leaned forward, groaning as he slowly stroked his cock, and swiped a long wet lick up your pussy and drew your clit into a gentle suckle. your taste buzzed on his tongue urging him to torture you until he could get you loud enough for the entire surgical department to hear.

with his hands attached to his raging length and his mouth occupied with your decadent cunny, he was so hard and desperate to cum that it hurt. the scarring all over his hands and the roughness of your panties only tormented him more with mind shattering friction they produced.

his moans gargled in a lewd mixture of your creaminess, helping to mute some of the noise that would have added on to your cute whines.

“more!” your back arched like a cat’s, eyes crossing like you were about to squirt all over him before getting horny instantly just to do it again. with his expertise knowledge of the human body, he was bound to find every single spot of yours that would leave you curling and screaming.

whether it was greed or his mind wandering more to his throbbing cock, zayne couldn’t help himself. he just had to let his hands viciously work his cock at least until he knew you’d both cum at the same time. the way it would be so erotic would drive him to lock the door to his office so that he could keep it going until sunrise the next day.

he drank your praises up like he hadn’t consumed water in weeks, and that only fuelled him to pump at his cock more and more, drenching your soaked underwear with his precum so that you’d feel him when he’d eventually put it back on you.

the thought of him cumming into your panties and then again in your warm, tight cunny had his head spinning so much that he almost forgot that he was eating you out.

“come on, doctor,” you breathlessly sighed, tugging his hair to force his beautiful hazel eyes upon your lust drunk gaze. “you have to know how to do two things at once.”

“mmm, yes ma’am.” gods, you were so damn sexy.

something about jerking off with your naughty panties while slurping up your juices in his office… it was just so dirty and yet felt so good. the risk of anyone bursting in to find him in the most compromising position– he could just get off from that alone.

your hands tugged at his hair as you reached your edge and with one more cruel (and loving) suckle with his teeth lightly grazing your clit, your eyes rolled back forcing you into your climax. a hoarse scream left your lips, louder than all your beautiful moans combined.

zayne slurped up all your creamy goodness, bringing himself into a shudder as his cum spurted out of his swollen, red tip, leaking out of the loose confines of your slutty underwear and landing all over the place. in his greed for more, he kept his mouth latched onto your clit and sucked on despite your fruitless attempts to pull him away.

“z-zayne, wait–“ you whimpered. the electric stings of your climax slowly turned into a familiar overstimulated pleasure that left your legs trembling. “it’s– zayne– too much!”

all he could do was hum into your leaking pussy while his tongue drilled and curved inside you to explore your walls and feel you clench and squeeze him as much as you could. his cockhead was still leaking hot globs of cum as his hands expertly rubbed the lace over and around his sensitive tip, massaging and torturing himself for the thrill of pleasure.

it wasn’t long before he brought you both to another orgasm, this time making even more of a mess than the last time. his pants were covered in cum dripping to the floor, your faces were flushed and burning from the sheer arousal hanging in the air. and yet he didn’t want to stop. he couldn’t.

he just loved hearing your pretty noises.

loved making you feel so good.

and he changed his mind. he was going to keep your cumstained panties. as a memento for whenever he thought of you at work, of course.

a/n: first time writing zayne, hope you enjoy!

#��.* thalwri #✧.* thalwri works #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lnds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #li shen #zayne smut #love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut

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jeonginsleftcheek · 6 months ago

Text

Hate your guts (pt 1)

~ this fic is my Christmas gift💙 i'm dividing this into two parts bcs tumblr is shit

pairing: rockstar!hyunjin x rockstar afab!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 26.6k

synopsis: hwang hyunjin, your sworn enemy. the person who finds and pushes all your buttons, annoys you and makes you angry. the person you're trying to avoid so badly, only to end up practically sharing a bed with him on tour. let the fun begin!

warnings: lots of swearing, smoking and alcohol, mentions of blood and throwing up, mild violence, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, spanking, creampies, mix of degradation and praise

a/n: thank you @frehyun for helping me come up with a name for hyunjin's band💕 also a thank you to @jehhskz @moonchild9350 and @hyunebunx for giving me suggestions, listening to me yap and being supportive while i was writing this🥹🩷🩷🩷 title is inspired by inji, go listen to her music🫶🏻

a little ramble: feel free to skip this! but i just wanted to say that this was supposed to be done sooner cause i had other fics planned out to write but work got in the way. so i wrote this fic whenever and wherever i could; hiding in the bathroom at work, during my break, at the bus station, at 3am when i couldn't sleep etc... it's been a ride and i'm proud of how it turned out, hopefully y'all enjoy it too🥹🫶🏻

“...And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there? Or have somebody’s goodnight kisses got that covered? When I’m not being honest, I pretend that you were just some lover…”

It was a perfect but short moment.

The fresh breeze coming into the car where the window was opened just a little was enough to give you some air but still managed to hide most of your face from the outside world.

The music in your ears was loud, so loud that you were drowning in it, the warm and comforting voice, the melancholic guitar riff in the background, and the gentle sluggish drums putting it all together into a song that made your eyes water.

You tuned everything else out as this was the only moment of peace you were going to get today.

You needed every shred of sanity you could gather, and you were determined to hold onto it as much as you could.

Because today, you had an interview with him.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Oh, the name you know so well.

Even thinking about the way it sounds makes you feel angry.

It seemed as if his life mission was to find every single button of yours and push them repeatedly until you exploded like a ticking bomb.

Your mind wandered as you thought about him and how much his existence angered you, your stomach turning into knots.

Or maybe it was just pre-interview nerves.

No matter how many times you talked in front of the camera, it always made you feel anxious and jittery.

Being on stage was fun, there was no anxiety there as whenever you would step on it and see all the people cheering for you and singing along to the music you and your friends wrote, your heart felt full, your soul elated.

It was an exhilarating feeling you couldn’t even begin to explain to someone who’d never experienced it.

Every concern in your head, every ache in your soul, every tear behind your eyelids threatening to spill got erased when you gave yourself to the stage.

If you could, you would definitely try to avoid the interviews and just perform.

But your record company had other plans.

Being the only up and rising all girls rock band in the company meant that you needed promotion, and what better way to promote than to collab with the only boy rock band in the same company?

Hwang Hyunjin’s band.

Yes, you couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

“Y/n!” you were shaken out of your thoughts, as your manager pulled at your headphones.

“What?” you almost snapped at her, startled by her antics.

“You were staring off into space and muttering angrily about Hyunjin. Something like ‘poke his eyes out’ and ‘conceited dick’.” Ana giggled, covering her lips with her hand as you rolled your eyes, realizing that you’ve already arrived at the building for the interview.

“I’m sure you find all this amusing. But I am not amused at all. Last time I had an interview with that... bastard, everyone thought we were dating and started shipping us.” you recoil at the thought. “I would never date someone like him.”

“Oh y/n, lighten up! You know there will always be rumors of all kinds. The dating rumors are the least harmful ones, trust me. Just act like you’re besties with Hyunjin, for an hour tops.”

You take a deep breath in, then sigh.

“I am a professional. I will do this right.” you nod with a determined tone as Ana bumped her fist with yours.

“That’s the spirit!” your manager smacked your thigh happily as you yelped, making her laugh before she exited the car.

Since you were in the underground parking lot, there was no press around so you walked out of the car freely, going directly to the elevator that would take you to the reception.

Ana pressed the button when you walked in and just as the doors started closing, someone’s combat boot was pushed between the silver doors, stopping them and making them open again.

Your eyes traveled up from the boots, to the tight leather pants and the skimpy tank top revealing a tattoo sleeve, right to the face you hoped you won’t be seeing for at least another ten minutes.

Hyunjin had an obnoxious smirk dancing on his lips as he looked down at you, puffing his chest out like some peacock showing off his feathers and you already wanted to smack the shit out of him.

His manager, Anthony waved at the two of you, ushering him into the elevator.

“Good morning y/n, Ana.” Anthony greeted as Hyunjin kept smirking at you.

“It was good until now.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Even the cologne Hyunjin was wearing made you want to puke your guts out so you stepped away from him.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned on the wall casually, never taking his eyes off of you.

“Aw, you throwing a tantrum already baby?” he smirked at you and you started fuming.

Both of your managers rolled their eyes, Ana muttering ‘here we go again’ as she shook her head.

“I see you have a new piercing on your face. You needed another hole to let the air out of that empty head?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant and Hyunjin scoffed.

“I’m gonna ignore that comment and focus on the fact that you’re counting my piercings. Observing me, huh?” he looked at you smugly.

“Yeah, cause I have nothing better to do than-”

Ding!

“Alright, break it off kids, were here!” Anthony said, quickly pulling Hyunjin out of the elevator.

“See? I can’t stand him.” you groaned as Ana chuckled.

“You stood up to him pretty well.” Ana winked. “Let's go get some coffee, get you properly awake before the interview.” she gripped your shoulders, shaking you a little as you groaned in protest.

Thankfully, Hyunjin had disappeared somewhere and you were glad he wasn’t around to annoy you, as you made small talk with a few of the staff you knew there since you’ve already been interviewed for the same channel before.

“Ana, I’m gonna go get some air before we start.” you felt the nerves creeping up inside you.

“Okay, but you have to be back in five minutes.” she reminded you and you gave her a thumbs up, before practically sprinting down the hall to get to the little terrace hidden on the side.

Staff used it for smoke breaks, and you decided to use it to calm your anxiety down.

You flung the door open and stepped out onto the balcony, quickly taking a deep breath in while you looked down at the city before you.

“Needed to see me once more before the interview?” a voice rang out to the left of you.

Hyunjin’s voice.

Of course the bastard is here, you thought, your face becoming hot in annoyance.

“I had no idea you were here, asshole.” you turned to look at him.

He was leaning on the railing, flexing his muscles, a long vein protruding under the layer of the swirling colorful flowers inked into his skin, leading all the way to his long fingers with chipped nail polish and a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He looked at you intently through his bangs that were haphazardly falling into his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before his tongue poked out to play with the piercing adorning it.

“I thought you had more originality when it comes to nicknames, darling.” he said mockingly before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Don’t call me that.” you turned around to leave but Hyunjin’s long arm quickly blocked your way, his palm splayed on the wall.

You looked up at him and stepped back, just as he puffed the smoke out your way.

“You leaving?” he looked smug again, intrusive thoughts of pushing him off the balcony appeared in your mind.

“Yes, this space is too small and your cologne is nauseating.” your face scrunches up.

“Aw, I’ll make sure to find another one you’d like.�� Hyunjin smirks.

“Don’t bother.” you ducked under his arm and opened the door, walking away as fast as you could.

At least he helped in a way, you weren’t anxious anymore, just annoyed and waiting for this day to be over.

“Where is Hyunjin, we’re starting in a minute.” Anthony’s brows furrowed while you were ushered towards the room.

“Last I saw him, he was smoking on the balcony.” you shrugged as they sat you down.

The chair where Hyunjin would be sitting was too close for comfort and you wanted so badly to push it away, but you figured it was there because of the camera frame.

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” one of the staff yelled and you rolled your eyes.

Of course he was late, the self-centered bastard. You were sure he was enjoying this, everyone waiting on his highness to arrive, everyone panicking around him as he wears that disgusting smug smirk on his face.

“In 10…9…” the staff started counting down just as the door swung open and a breathless Hyunjin ran into the room, almost tripping over your crossed legs before he sat down on the chair next to you.

After he ran in, one of the girls working there ran in too, quickly taking her place with rosy cheeks and her lipgloss smeared.

You rolled your eyes and looked at him, the glitter from the girl’s lipgloss was visibly shining on his lips and chin.

“You have a little something.” you said and he smirked, wiping his chin off before leaning towards you.

“My lips were dry.” he whispered with a wink.

You were more than ready to get this over with, seething with anger at his unprofessional behavior that you didn’t even notice the camera began rolling.

“... today’s special guests are y/n of Venus Flytrap and Hyunjin of Lycoris Radiata! I hope y’all are as excited as I am, since it’s been so long. Y/n, let’s start with you. You have a new album coming out soon, can we get a little sneak peek of that?” the interviewer, Sarah, asked as you adjusted on your chair.

“This is our third album now, and this time Steph and Janey participated in the writing more than before, so the songs are really personal to all three of us.”

“Are we finally gonna hear about their love story?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows.

“We may.” you smirked at her, not wanting to reveal too much.

“How about yours?” she added on, in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin leaning towards you as he stared at you, manspreading like always, his knee knocking into yours.

“Huh?”

“Your love story. Is there a special guy or girl in your life?” the interviewer asked, making you feel annoyed instantly.

You hated being asked questions like that, sometimes it felt like the music you were writing didn’t even matter, all people wanted to know was who you’re fucking.

“Not at the moment, no.” you forced a smile so you don’t seem rude.

“I thought I was special.” Hyunjin chimed in next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours, that shit eating grin you hate spreading on his face.

Before you could answer, Sarah butted in.

“Oh, is there something happening between you that we should know about?”

You could just hear the excitement in her voice, the hunger for drama dripping from her lips.

“Nothing is happening, we just like to joke around like that.” you quickly answered, hoping to deflect her to another question, or that she’d finally talk to Hyunjin and ask him about his new song, so you could take a few moments to breathe.

“So, you two are close?”

Oh no.

Here it goes again.

Last time this happened, your name got dragged on every social media platform.

People who were shipping the two of you got on your nerves, but that wasn’t the biggest problem.

No, it was the people who had sent you hate and death threats, telling you if they saw you next to Hyunjin again you’d be dead.

It took a toll on your mental health and scared you since you know people can easily find an address or stalk you somewhere and you wanted to avoid any rumors that would endanger your well-being.

“We're just coworkers.” to your surprise Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, saying exactly what you wanted to say so people would leave you alone.

Why was there a weird feeling in your chest then?

“Well, sometimes there’s passion at the workplace.” Sarah wasn’t giving it up and you were close to losing your temper and telling her to shove it already, ask some less invasive questions.

“No passion here, our relationship is strictly professional.” you said, but your skin burned where Hyunjin’s thigh pressed against yours.

In your mind you were cursing both him and Sarah, and even your manager for bringing you here.

Thankfully, she left it at that, continuing with questions about your upcoming tour and Hyunjin’s new song.

As soon as the interview finished and you were done shaking hands, Ana came to you, her hand on your shoulder as she squeezed.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin slip out of the room.

“Good job.” she smiled as Anthony joined the two of you.

“I hope you’re hungry, y/n. This time it’s my treat, and there’s this restaurant…”

You tuned Anthony out, completely forgetting that after an interview like this, the tradition is to have dinner with Hyunjin and his manager.

“Can we skip dinner this time? I just wanna go home and lay down.”

“Nonsense, I hear your stomach growling from here. Come on, it’s free food you can’t say no.” Anthony made a goofy face, hoping to win you over.

“Fine, you had me at free food.” you sighed as Ana nodded with a smile.

“Good! Now where is our other rockstar?” he quickly looked around. “I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m a babysitter, not a manager.”

“I’ll go find him.” you offered, wanting to leave the building as soon as possible.

“Sure.” Ana nodded and you made your way down the hall.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, until you came closer to a corner where the sounds of hushed voices and giggles filled up your ears and made you roll your eyes.

“You know I can’t give you my number, baby. But if there is an empty room around here somewhere…” Hyunjin was talking to the girl from earlier, leaning over her body as she stared up at him like he was a god, her back against the wall.

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms on your chest.

Both of them looked up at you, Hyunjin giving you a smirk as he straightened up and the girl glared at you but you didn’t give a shit.

“We need to leave right now. Our managers are waiting for us.” you said simply as the girl whined.

“Shh, maybe some other time.” he shushed her, leaning towards her and your stomach flipped in disgust.

He didn’t kiss her, just taunted her before he leaned back and made his way towards you.

“Cockblocker.” he stuck his tongue out, the piercing adorning it catching the light for a moment.

“Do you even know her name?” you asked, keeping a fast pace and a good distance away from him.

“No. Does it matter?” he shrugged, his long legs quickly catching up to you in big strides.

“You’re despicable.” your face scrunched up in disgust as you neared the elevator where your managers were waiting and chatting.

“Throwing some big words around. You sure you know the meaning?” he smirked.

“That’s it.” you said angrily.

“What? You just basically told me I deserve to be hated just cause I wanted to have some fun.”

You looked at him, full on ready to slap him across his face but Ana stepped between the two of you.

“Fighting again? Can the two of you behave for just one evening?” Anthony frowned with a sigh as he called the elevator.

“I can behave.” Hyunjin clicked his tongue cheekily before playing with his lip ring again.

“Y/n?” Ana looked at you.

“As long as he doesn’t talk to me, I’ll be fine.” you turned away from Hyunjin, stepping into the elevator.

This is going to be one awkward dinner.

Choosing to disconnect in the van you put your earphones in, ignoring Hyunjin’s presence right next to you.

It’s like your managers wanted to have you two as close as possible, like they thought it’d make you hate each other less but at this moment there was nothing more you wanted than to get away from him.

Or maybe your managers wanted to be closer to each other, you smirked to yourself as Ana twirled her hair around her finger, giggling at something Anthony said.

You leaned back as the music flooded your ears, your figure slightly turned towards the window as you watched the street lights pass you by, totally unaware of a pair of eyes that were glued to you.

Hyunjin observed you in detail, how shiny your hair was as it cascaded down your back and shoulders, how your brows were slightly creased and your lips pouty as you listened to your music, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers played with the hem of your shirt as you pulled on it, how pretty the rings adorning your fingers were, how the necklace you always wore laid gently on your collarbone.

No little detail was skipped as he drinked it all in, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

But after some time as it got even darker outside, you caught Hyunjin’s reflection in the window as he stared at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before.

Your stomach suddenly swirled as the two of you made eye contact on the glass, Hyunjin’s plump lips falling open before he sat up and looked away, acting like nothing happened.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and you were tired of this day, having to look at Hyunjin was more exhausting to you than being on stage.

You couldn’t wait to get into your bed and disappear.

As you walked into the restaurant, you were led to a table and you could see a few people whispering and pointing at you but usually they didn’t bother you much.

However, this time was different.

As you scanned the menu, a girl timidly approached your table and you looked up at her as she stood next to Hyunjin.

“I’m - I’m sorry to bother you but I’m a really big fan and I was wondering if you’d take a picture with me?” she asked Hyunjin who immediately smirked at her.

“No pictures allowed. But you can get his signature.” Anthony chimed in.

“And who the fuck are you?” the girl changed her demeanor right away, making Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart, that’s my boss.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the girl. “Come on I’ll give you a sign and you can write me your number, maybe I’ll call you, hm?” Hyunjin winked at her and you just about lost your appetite completely.

“Oh, sure, I’d love that!” she let out a nasally laugh as he signed a napkin with a pen she somehow produced, giving it back to her as she leaned over to write her number down, making sure her tits were right in his face before she skipped back to her friends.

“Can there be at least one minute when you’re not trying to fuck something that walks?” you looked at him annoyingly and he laughed.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me.” he smirked.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” you were ready to smack him with the menu in your hand but Ana caught your wrist.

“I bet you love that about me.” he kept smirking.

“Love is nothing near what I feel about you.” you said, your teeth gritted.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, you know.” Hyunjin smirked, leaning into your personal space.

“Anyways, guys. What are you ordering? Their steak is really good.” Anthony gave an awkward smile as he looked around the table.

“I want the tomato pasta.” Hyunjin leaned back, making you cackle.

“Isn’t that the kids menu? Makes sense for you somehow.”

“I’m saving room for dessert.” he winked at you, his tongue running over his lip tentatively, the piercing on it catching the light again.

“Ew.” you jolted in disgust as he laughed loudly, obviously finding enjoyment in ticking you off.

The dinner part of the outing was uneventful as everyone ate and made small talk but you didn’t miss how Hyunjin crumpled up the napkin with the fan’s number and threw it aside on the table, not caring about it.

What an asshole.

“Let’s make a little toast to this evening and the upcoming albums and tour.” Ana proposed as she lifted her glass up.

“To us.” Hyunjin smirked as he looked at you.

“To rock’n’roll!” you added as the four of you clinked your glasses together before taking a big swig of your drinks.

Hyunjin didn’t look at you on the drive home.

Rehearsal was supposed to start at 9am sharp, but you were there bright and early, tuning your guitar.

Being an early bird, you loved the few moments of peace you could have to yourself, just you and your music.

Your hand glided easily on the guitar’s neck, taking shapes familiar to your hands, it was muscle memory by now, your fingers picking on the strings and creating the melody you played countless times before.

You let your voice ring out in the space freely as you sang a song dear to your heart, one you wrote when you were younger.

You’d always start warming up by singing it to yourself, never having the need to actually put it out into the world.

You got into it, your eyes closed as you sang with a small smile on your face, the entire world around you disappearing shortly.

In the distance, you heard footsteps and voices belonging to your bandmates and just as you opened your eyes, you looked through the glass on the door, a shadow slithered across the wall outside, disappearing around the corner.

You squinted your eyes and stood up, putting your guitar aside and coming closer to the door.

Just as you were about to reach towards the doorknob, the voices got louder.

“Are we seriously doing this right now?” Janey asked, the tone of her voice angry.

“I’m telling you, it was nothing! I don’t know who she is and why she’s texting me!” Steph defended herself as Janey scoffed.

“I’m sick of your excuses. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make it up to me and be truthful, but after that I’m done.” you stepped back as Janey came into view, opening the door angrily.

“Oh, y/n.” she widened her eyes slightly. “Good morning.” she added, scurrying past you to take her place behind the drum kit.

Steph walked in with a scowl on her face, muttering a ‘morning’ before going straight to her bass guitar.

It wasn’t the first time they fought or even broke up.

There were many times you had to be the mediator between them, trying to get them to communicate and even though it was frustrating, you didn’t want them to give up on their relationship easily and you couldn’t really take sides since they were both your friends.

“Shall we?” you asked and they nodded.

It took some warming up as always but soon you got into the groove, rehearsing for a small performance that was happening tonight.

You were excited because during the performance you planned to reveal your new song and see how people like it in person.

The only thorn in your eye was the fact that Hyunjin’s band will be there too, performing right after yours.

You were dreading to see him again, since that interview last week you had managed to avoid him skilfully, but you couldn’t hide forever.

And even though your rehearsal went somewhat smoothly, there was tension in the air and you didn’t like that feeling.

It felt like a storm was coming and you weren’t sure if you’re ready to take it on.

Evening came around quickly, everyone was already gathered backstage and you were dressed and ready, having rehearsed once more on the stage, tuning your guitars and getting ready for the most fun part.

You peered from the back, seeing all the people gathering made your heart swell, a smile spreading on your face automatically.

“Quite a turn out, huh?”

Your eye literally twitched when you heard Hyunjin’s voice behind you, too close for comfort as his figure loomed over you and you felt the warmth of his body on your back.

You turned your head slightly as he peered down at you with that annoying smirk you absolutely hate.

“Of course.” you said, squeezing your body between him and the curtain, ignoring him calling after you as you walked away as fast as you could.

You’re not gonna let him ruin tonight for you.

It was time to go on stage anyways.

You and your girls did a little cheer as tradition before the performance, Ana coming up to hug you and wish you good luck.

“Break a leg.” Hyunjin appeared out of nowhere and you only rolled your eyes before whipping around and almost smacking him with your hair as you made your way towards the stage.

As soon as you walked out, loud screams filled up your ears and everything negative was forgotten and locked away in a drawer in the back of your mind.

“Are you ready to rock tonight?!” you screamed out into the mic as the three of you took your positions.

Hyunjin watched you from the side with an unreadable look on his face, but you weren’t even aware of it and you didn’t care.

All you cared about was this moment.

The moment where you get to share your love for music with thousands of people.

It was exhilarating, watching the mass of bodies sway like one, hearing all the people singing the lyrics you wrote in unison.

Nothing could compare to this and every time you stood under that light, you knew you were born for this.

Giddy from everything, you skipped backstage once you finished playing the last song; which happened to be the new one and people more than loved it judging by their excited screams.

“That was amazing!” Ana met you halfway, giving high fives to all three of you.

You were still trying to catch your breath as you giggled, when Hyunjin appeared next to you again.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” he smirked at you, shamelessly giving you the elevator eyes.

“Good luck guys!” Janey yelled at all four members with a smile and a thumbs up but Hyunjin shook his head.

“I want her to say it or I’m not going out on stage.” he crossed his arms on his chest, pouting and tapping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum.

“Come on, Hyun, we need to get out there!” Aiden, the band’s bassist called out.

“Not moving until y/n wishes me good luck.” he quickly shook his head, his fluffy hair shaking with it and you thought how he resembled a dog; in more ways than one.

“Fine you spoiled brat. Good luck.” you said sarcastically and he scoffed.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked, leaning into your personal space again.

“Get on the stage, Hyunjin.” you sighed and he chuckled in delight.

“Watch me closely.” he winked before running off.

“I can just cut the tension in the air with a knife.” Steph smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off!” you said, smacking the back of her head as she cackled.

You did end up watching Hyunjin’s band perform after refreshing yourself, but pretty soon you’ve come to regret that decision.

He was wild while performing, stripping out of his jacket as he screamed into the mic, sweating under the bright lights pointed directly at him making him look like an insane glazed donut as he strutted around the stage acting all smug even though he tripped over his dumb long legs multiple times.

He’d lean over towards his little groupies, holding their hand or caressing their faces, blowing them kisses and whatnot, all of that behavior making your gut churn in disgust.

The last straw was when he laid down on his back and started humping the air while moaning into the mic.

Even though the crowd screamed louder than before and the horny fans almost started hyperventilating, you felt second hand embarrassment at witnessing this.

Hyunjin continued moaning before he threw his head back, his eyes locking with yours.

A shiver ran down your spine as he smirked at you, all sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, his piercings shining in the light, the veins on his neck visible and his cheeks red.

A warmness spread in your navel as he winked, licking at his lip slowly, taunting you before he moaned extra loudly, the pornographic sound echoing in your ears.

You frowned suddenly at your heart beating fast and your legs pressing together.

What the fuck is wrong with me?, you thought, quickly shaking your head as he finally looked away from you and stood up.

Of course, he got showered by multiple bras on stage, you think you even caught a glimpse of someone throwing their panties and you couldn’t watch anymore.

It was truly disgusting.

You quickly shoved past some staff members watching and gasping at whatever Hyunjin was doing now.

Pushing past everyone, you made your way outside to get some fresh air in the hidden area behind backstage, where staff and musicians usually smoked or chilled after a performance.

You greeted some of the staff before finding a spot where you could be alone.

You were about to relax when you heard kissing sounds and as you turned to look around the corner you saw Steph kissing some random girl.

You couldn’t contain the gasp that flew out of your mouth, making them jolt away from each other.

Steph’s eyes widened when she saw you and you quickly spun around, noticing Janey had just walked outside too and started looking around.

“Y/n, wait!” Steph yelled behind you. “It’s not what you think! Please, don’t tell Janey!” she looked at you desperately but you hated cheaters more than anything, seeing her betrayal with your own eyes broke any sort of connection you had with her.

“Isn’t it? Your tongue was down some girl’s throat. Now, what do you call that?” you scoffed.

“What?” Janey appeared next to you, just as the girl who Steph was kissing before stood behind her.

“It’s not like that, I-”

You could see Janey’s eyes filling up with tears.

“That’s it, I’m done. With you and with the band. With everything.” you gasped when she said that, your eyes wide.

“Janey, don’t be like that, it didn’t mean anything to me-” Steph started.

“Liar, you told me you’d leave her for me.” the girl behind Steph chimed in.

“Oh, so this has been going on for some time?” Janey looked between Steph and the girl.

“Let’s talk about this inside.” you tried to lead them in as people were whispering and looking at the four of you.

“I have nothing else to say. I’m sorry, y/n. I can’t be a part of this band anymore when all it’s gonna do is remind me of this cheating whore.” Janey spat before turning around and leaving.

“Okay, I deserve that but like I’m sorry that-”

“Save it, Steph. I can’t believe you did this. You put your desires over the well-being of our band. You do understand that your actions not only affect Janey, but also me, Ana and the rest of the record company?” you asked her, your blood boiling with anger.

“I- I’m sorry, let me make it right. I’ll talk to Janey and she’ll forgive me once she understands-”

“You think I want you to be part of the band after this? That’s rich.” you turned around too, in hopes of finding Janey.

“Y/n, you can’t throw me out of the band!” Steph yelled behind you.

“I just did.” you said coldly before opening the door and rushing into the backstage room.

“Is Janey here?” you asked Ana and before she could answer, someone bumped into you rather strongly, making you stumble backwards a little.

You turned around angrily, noticing a very sweaty and breathless Hyunjin staring at you with a smile, his tongue lolling out of his lips as he played with his piercing.

“So, did you like my performance?” he winked at you. “Did it get you excited?” the famous shit eating grin spread on his face as he leaned in closer to you, a few droplets of sweat dripping from his hair.

“I don’t have time for your games, Hyunjin. Please leave me alone.” you said annoyingly, noticing he had a bra hooked around his hand.

“What’s going on?” Ana asked, looking at you confusedly.

You were shaken up, the anger you felt manifesting into tears and you cursed yourself for being so emotional and quick to cry.

“Woah, you’re crying!” Hyunjin stepped even closer to you but you’ve had enough of him.

“Get away from me, asshole!” you channeled all your anger his way as you pressed your hands on his chest, pushing him away.

Hyunjin stumbled with a gasp, a shocked look on his face.

“What the hell is happening here?” Anthony quickly came to Hyunjin’s side as his bandmates watched everything unfold.

“Ana, can we talk in private?” you glared once more at Hyunjin and she quickly nodded, hooking her arm with yours and taking you away from the scene.

Hyunjin watched your figure disappear out of view with a deep frown on his face.

It’s been a dreadful week.

You’ve tried talking to Janey multiple times, begging her to come back, promising to her that you wouldn’t let Steph come anywhere near her.

Sadly, Janey was insistent on not wanting to continue with the band since lots of the songs were written by her and her now ex girlfriend who betrayed her in such an ugly way.

You talked to Ana almost every day on the phone but you weren’t up for any visits, choosing instead to wallow in your sadness.

Your band fell apart, your friends were no longer together, your album couldn’t be published and people were speculating, spreading rumors, you were getting numerous curious comments asking what happened to Venus Flytrap.

You had no idea what to do at that moment.

You just needed some time to yourself to figure out what your next step should be.

You were lounging in your bed when your phone buzzed for the hundredth time.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it and saw that you had a text message from an unknown number.

???: hey there pretty girl! don’t be so sad! there are worse things than your band falling apart.

you: what, like death? and who is this?

???: your favorite person in the whole world<3

you: hyunjin??

???: aw i knew i was your favorite!

You started seething immediately as you sat up, your heart beating fast instantly as you worked yourself up into annoyance.

You quickly put his contact under ‘asshole’.

you: no, i knew that a conceited answer like that can only come from an asshole like you.

you: now, what do you want?

asshole: did you save my contact as asshole? or dickhead? which one is it?

you: wouldn’t you like to know. seriously what the hell do you want. i’ll block you if you don’t get on with it

asshole: just wanted to see if you maybe want to talk to someone

you: if i did, i wouldn’t choose you. have a nice day away from me hyunjin

Hyunjin didn’t answer your last text, instead he left you on read and you tossed your phone across your bed, now feeling even more infuriated than before.

You squinted your eyes, grabbing your phone again and texting Ana.

you: did you give my number to hyunjin??

Ana: i’m sorry! he wouldn’t stop bugging me about it! pls don’t be mad

Just great.

Why is he insisting on annoying you even when you feel down in the dumps, you thought, he always has to come in and make you feel even more mad.

You were hoping that with your last text he’d finally leave you alone.

You also hoped you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon.

But boy, you couldn’t be more wrong.

“What?!” you yelled so loudly that it echoed off of the office walls.

“Y/n, please we don’t know any other solution. Lycoris Radiata is going to tour in 4 days and you’re the only person who knows their songs by heart. You can also kick ass with drums. And well, you’re kinda free now.” Anthony grimaced.

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t spend so much time with Hwang Hyunjin!” you whined like a child, kicking your legs under the table as Ana gave you an apologetic look.

“Gossiping about me?” Hyunjin strolled in, with that annoying smirk, his hair in a little ponytail, showing more of his ear piercings and his sharp jawline.

He took off his leather jacket, throwing it haphazardly on the chair before he plopped down into it.

He spun around in the chair to face you as you looked at him with a scowl on your face.

Brendon, his guitarist and Aiden joined the meeting right after that.

“So, ready to be my new drummer?” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Y/n, please, we have no other choice! Phil had to leave so suddenly due to his sickness. We couldn’t be prepared for something like that. We can’t afford to postpone the tour now.” Brendon pleaded as Aiden nodded next to him.

You leaned back into the chair, pursing your lips as you gave it a thought.

Of course they’d choose you.

You knew their songs by heart since you shared so many tours together but you had your own bus and mostly ran into Hyunjin either backstage or at an afterparty but if you would become a part of his band you’d spend most of your time with him.

But this could be good for you to give yourself time to decide what you wanna do next while touring with Lycoris Radiata.

And since you were a multi instrumentalist, playing the drums wouldn’t be a problem for you.

You smirked suddenly before tilting your head at Hyunjin.

“Fine. I will tour with you under one condition.” you said.

“Anything!” Anthony piped in but you kept staring at Hyunjin.

“I want you to beg.” your smirk deepened and Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

“What?” he blinked repeatedly and you chuckled under your breath.

“Beg me to join your band or I’m not doing it.”

Hyunjin’s lips opened and closed a few times before he frowned.

“I don’t beg. I demand.” he smirked, taunting you.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to have demands. However, I am. So if I want you to beg, Hyunjin, you’re gonna beg.” you sat up straight as he looked at you in pure shock.

“My, my darling. I didn’t know you were this commanding. I kinda dig that.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Any day now.” you were ready to stand up and leave.

The room was eerily silent and Brendon opened his lips to speak up but Anthony grabbed his wrist and quickly shook his head.

You could see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he stared at you, and slowly but surely his cheeks became red as he closed his eyes in frustration.

“Pretty please, join my band and come on tour with us?” he said, rather quickly and you tsked.

“Not convincing enough.” you enjoyed having the upper hand, the roles reversed as you pushed Hyunjin’s buttons.

“What do you want me to do?! Kneel at your feet?” he whined.

“Maybe.” you shrugged.

“Unbelievable! I’m the one doing you a favor anyways.” Hyunjin said, clearly annoyed and you were reveling in it.

You wanted him to get the taste of his own medicine.

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrow as he breathed hard.

“Yes, your band is as good as dead right now, just like your career.” he said with a smug smirk, making everyone gasp.

“Hyunjin!” Aiden scolded him and you stood up, feeling your eyes water as you lifted your hand, your palm colliding with Hyunjin’s cheek.

The force of your slap turned his head right and he grabbed at his cheek immediately, his eyes wide, his face becoming red quickly.

“Fuck you!” you said angrily before turning around and leaving the room as tears started sliding down your cheeks.

“Now look at what you did!” Anthony was mad and Hyunjin shrugged with a frown, realizing quickly that maybe he did cross a line.

“How could you say something like that to y/n?” Brendon asked, and Hyunjin looked at them, feeling dejected suddenly as he rubbed at his cheek.

There was strength in your hands, that he was sure of.

“I fucked up, okay! I didn’t mean to say that.” he shook his head. “I will make this right.” Hyunjin added, standing up.

“Dude, I think you’re the last person y/n wants to see right now.” Aiden said.

“But I have to apologize to her.” Hyunjin chewed on his lip, playing with his piercing as a nervous habit.

“I’ll go with you then.” Aiden nodded, standing up as well.

“Fine.” Hyunjin sighed.

You sat in the swinging chair on one of the many balconies of the building, letting your tears slip down your cheeks as the wind picked up, making you shiver.

Hyunjin and Aiden found you pretty quickly and before Aiden could follow him to the balcony, Hyunjin smacked his hand on Aiden’s chest.

“Please, just wait here.”

“Fine, but if you provoke her again, I’m coming in.” Aiden sighed, shaking his head.

The door of the balcony opened and in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin’s combat boots and his leather pants.

“Go away.” you said quietly, sniffling and turning away from him.

Hyunjin stood frozen for a moment, holding his jacket in his hand and you took that time to quickly wipe away your tears.

You didn’t want to look weak in front of your enemy.

Footsteps approached and suddenly you felt a weight on your shoulders and back.

You looked down, realizing that Hyunjin had put his jacket around you and it smelled like cigarettes mixed with cologne he always wears and something distinctly him.

You took a deep breath and for some reason, calmness settled all over your body.

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. It was way out of line.”

You didn’t say anything, still refusing to look at him.

“And I’m sorry about your band. I know that must be hard to go through. I feel bad that my drummer had to leave, I don’t know how I’d feel if-”

“Are you done?” you turned to look at him and his lips pressed together.

“I don’t care how you feel, Hyunjin. Just like you didn’t care about hurting me moments ago.” you stood up, ready to throw his jacket away.

“Well, I apologized!” he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Though, I’m glad I have that effect on you, I didn’t know you cared so much about what I think or say.” he smirked suddenly.

You were tempted to slap his other cheek at that moment, and Aiden must’ve sensed it so he walked out to the balcony.

“Are we okay?” he asked, gulping.

“Not until he apologizes properly.” you crossed your arms with a smirk, and he knew exactly what you meant.

“Ugh! This is the first and last time I get on my knees for you.” Hyunjin said annoyingly as he kneeled down and you chuckled in delight.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d be honored for you to join my band.” he batted his eyelashes at you.

“Mm…” you pursed your lips, acting like you were contemplating it as he rolled his eyes again.

“Fine. I accept.” you shrugged and Hyunjin stood up quickly with a smile.

“Welcome to the band, sweetheart!” he smirked, opening his arms for a hug and you quickly dodged under his arm and slithered away.

“You’re welcome.” you smirked back, grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

He caught it just as you walked back into the hallway, grinning to himself as you walked away.

“She wants me so bad.” Hyunjin said as Aiden’s eyebrows lifted comically.

“I think she wants to kill you.” he said and Hyunjin chuckled, smacking Aiden’s shoulder and grabbing him.

“I know what chicks like, okay?”

“You also know that y/n isn’t one of your little groupies?” Aiden sighed.

“I know, don’t worry. She’s special.” Hyunjin smiled, hugging his jacket to his chest, getting a whiff of your perfume that stayed on it.

Aiden shook his head with a chuckle.

This is gonna be one hell of a tour.

The party was in full swing.

That morning you had packed for the tour, your stomach swirling with nerves so much that you thought you’d throw up.

You were actually going on tour with Lycoris Radiata, for at least six months.

A lot can happen in that amount of time and while you were nervous to spend so much time with the infuriating and annoying asshole aka Hwang Hyunjin, you were also excited for the new experience and the places you’ll get to see.

Of course, you couldn’t leave without attending a ‘have an amazing tour’ party that was mostly exclusive only for staff and a few other people.

You were on your second glass of beer as you sat at the bar, the cold bitter liquid not calming you down as it should.

Hyunjin was having a jolly old time, entertaining some girls of course and if you had rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck in the back of your head.

“Don’t take that to heart.” Aiden suddenly appeared next to you.

“What?” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking away your thoughts.

“Hyunjin flirting like that. He’s a lot of talk, more than anything else.”

“Why would I care if he flirts with some random girls?” you frowned. “It’s none of my business.”

“Right.” Aiden pursed his lips. “Well, I’m gonna go find Anthony.”

“Sure.” you shrugged, your eyes flying back to Hyunjin and the girls who were salivating all over him.

He was showing them his biceps and they were touching him like they’ve never seen a human arm in their life.

You scoffed, shaking your head when a voice behind you startled you.

“Now, why is a pretty lady such as yourself sitting all alone?”

You turned around with your eyebrow lifted, coming face to face with a stranger.

“Because it’s her choice.” you answered.

“Oh, feisty and pretty? That’s a fun combo.” the guy smirked, his arm leaning on your chair, almost hugging your waist as he got closer to you.

Your nose scrunched up, he smelled of alcohol and you really wanted him to leave you alone.

“I’m pretty boring, trust me.” you said.

“Oh, I don’t believe that. In fact, I think if you were to let me take you home tonight, you and I could have so much fun.” he smirked and you were pretty sure you barfed in your mouth a little.

“No, thank you.” you said sarcastically.

He chuckled, placing his arms around you.

You were completely unaware of Hyunjin who was keeping an eye on you and the suspicious guy.

As soon as the man placed his hands on you, Hyunjin pushed the girl he was talking to aside, his heavy combat boots taking him right to you and the disturbance in your personal space.

“I don’t really take no for an answer.” he said and your heart sank momentarily.

“Back off man!” you tried to push him away but he wasn’t budging.

Suddenly the guy was ripped away from you with such force that it pulled you to your feet.

You grabbed at the bar to steady yourself and gasped just in time to see Hyunjin swinging his fist at the man.

“Oh my god!” you almost screamed, your eyes wide as the guy fell to the floor instantly.

People quickly gathered around and Anthony was trying to push them away so he could grab Hyunjin.

“The lady said no, you fucking dirtbag!” Hyunjin said, swinging at the man again.

“Oh my god, Hyunjin! Stop, it’s okay, please!” you panicked, never seeing him this angry or violent.

“Hwang! Enough!” Anthony yelled, grabbing Hyunjin’s arms and lifting him up as he fought against his manager, still trying to punch the man who was now laying on the floor with his face completely bloody.

You kept looking at Hyunjin with a shocked expression as he breathed hard, his face red and sweaty from anger, the veins on his neck and forehead popping out.

“I stopped, now let me go.” he said through his teeth as someone lifted up the unconscious guy.

“Hyunjin, if this gets out to the press it could turn into a fucking shitstorm! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anthony yelled angrily as Hyunjin stood with his fists still clenched.

“He made y/n uncomfortable and he deserved it.” Hyunjin answered before turning towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes softening as you stared at him in disbelief.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m done with this party.” Hyunjin said, turning on his heel and grabbing his jacket before he walked out, leaving you standing there still trying to process what the hell just happened.

You were half asleep when Ana drove you to the tour bus.

You barely slept last night, tossing and turning in your bed as the images of Hyunjin punching that guy from the party kept swimming in your head.

Never has a man defended you like that and you’ve never seen Hyunjin look so livid before.

He was usually either smirking, laughing or being a menace, ready to always annoy you but you’ve never seen him actually angry.

It was kind of… hot, you thought before shaking it off.

You wondered why he reacted like that.

“You okay?” Ana snapped you out of your vegetative state as you sank in the passenger seat, arms crossed and hood over your head.

“Hm? Yeah, just sleepy.” you sat up and looked around.

The sun wasn’t even up yet.

“You can continue sleeping on the tour bus. We’re here.” she chuckled.

“Oh, goody.” you sighed before opening the door and walking out.

“Morning, ladies.” Anthony all but ran up to Ana, helping her with yours and her bags since she’d be joining you too.

“Morning? It’s still night.” you checked your phone, seeing it was 4:13am.

“Not where I come from. You see-” Anthony started.

“Okay, I’m too asleep to listen to this.” you shook your head before strolling towards the bus.

You were about to just climb in and go straight to the nearest bed you could find but you heard some quiet music coming from behind the back of the bus.

You approached slowly and peeked around to see Hyunjin leaning on the wall, smoking and listening to some quiet music.

He looked up instantly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights for a short moment.

“Remembered to put on a jacket?” he smirked.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” you said and he shrugged, looking away and turning the music off.

As he brought his cigarette to his lips, you noticed his knuckles were red and injured.

“I guess I should thank you for last night.” you said quietly, swinging on your feet awkwardly as you dug your hands in your pockets.

“It was nothing.” he shook his head quickly.

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.” you motioned to his hand.

“This?” he looked at his hand and chuckled. “You should see the other guy.” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Clever.”

“Come to think of it, it does hurt a bit. Wanna kiss it better?” Hyunjin smirked, puffing the smoke out.

“Bite me.” you gave him the middle finger as he laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet early hours.

“I might. If you ask nicely.” he said with that smug expression of his.

“I’m going inside.” you shivered, realizing how cold it actually was, ignoring his witty quips.

“I’m right behind ya.” he threw his cigarette on the floor before stepping on it.

Your heart started beating fast out of nowhere as his heavy boots stomped behind you, the sound escorting you to the entrance of the bus.

“Oh wow.” your eyes widened as you looked around the living/kitchen area.

“You like?” Hyunjin leaned over your shoulder and you jolted away from him, making him snicker.

“Yeah, it’s… not what I expected. It looks more cozy than I thought it would.” you nodded.

“You should thank the interior designer.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“And who might that be?” you asked, making your way to the bunk bed area.

“Oh, just a guy. He takes payment in kisses.” Hyunjin bumped into you as you stopped.

“Is that guy maybe you?” you turned around, not realizing immediately just how close Hyunjin was to you.

“Maybe it is.” he leaned towards you with a smirk and you squealed a little, stepping away from him.

“Give it up. I’m taking the top bunk bed.” you pointed to the left side.

“Not fair! I always take that one!” Hyunjin pouted.

“Tough luck, I called it first.” you smirked, taking off your jacket and throwing it up on the bed.

“Or… we can both sleep up there?” Hyunjin said and you scoffed, pushing him away.

“Like hell!”

“Are y’all fighting this early?” Brendon came in, looking confused and disheveled.

“No, it’s foreplay.” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows and you made gagging noises.

“Here’s your bag, y/n.” Ana appeared with your luggage.

Aiden and Anthony came in after and everyone took some time to unpack and get settled.

“I heard we have two pretty ladies with us, so you fellas gotta behave now.” you heard an unknown voice and leaned over to see who it belonged to.

“Oh, we always behave, Stu.” Hyunjin smirked.

“Yes, especially you.” the man, Stu, rolled his eyes.

“This is our main driver Stu.” Aiden introduced you and Ana to him.

“Pleasure to meet you ladies. Hopefully the road won’t be too bumpy.” he winked before turning around and leaving.

“Where is Bradley?” Anthony piped in suddenly.

“Who’s Bradley?” you asked, at this moment you just wanted to get everything over with and catch up on some sleep.

“Our sound guy.” Brendon answered. “And lights guy. He is underpaid and overworked, basically.” he added, giving Anthony a pointed look.

“Hey, it’s not my fault Mike quit!” he lifted his hands up. “Besides, we’re picking someone up in the next town over. He’ll be our roadie along with Bradley.”

As they started discussing, you slipped away to the bathroom, where you could change in peace and get ready for bed.

You leaned on the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror as you listened to the muffled voices talking.

Were you doing the right thing?

Accepting to join another band when your heart still hurts from the sudden falling apart between your friends and band members…

“Y/n, I need the bathroom!” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality and you stood up straight.

“I’m not done yet!” you yelled back. “You have another bathroom!” you added annoyingly, preparing to brush your teeth.

“Aiden hogged it. Are you naked or something? Cause I swear I don’t mind.”

You could just hear the smirk in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes and they lingered on your legs in the shorts you put on, going up to your chest and lingering again before he looked up at your face.

He was playing with his lip ring again, his cheeks rosy.

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Just wanna brush my teeth.” he looked at you smugly.

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and continued brushing your teeth.

You opted to leave the door opened since it felt awkward to have them closed.

“Isn’t this fun, us brushing our teeth together? It’s kinda domestic, don’t you think?” Hyunjin said suddenly, the familiar smirk on his face.

“Yes, thrilling.” you answered sarcastically. “You don’t have to act nice, Hyunjin. Everyone knows we hate each other so let’s just not talk too much and try to coexist peacefully for the sake of everyone else on this tour.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to answer but you quickly turned around and left, not wanting to get into it with him when you were tired and nervous.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head.

The only thing stuck in his brain at that moment was the way you said his name.

God, he loved it.

You slept for a few hours only, waking up early yet again as the bus rolled to a stop at a diner.

“Rise and shine, princess.” Hyunjin’s head popped up in front of you as he held onto your bed.

“Fuck off.” you grabbed your pillow and smacked him with it, almost making him fall down but he managed to land on his feet.

You heard a smack and Hyunjin saying ‘ow’ quietly before Aiden said,

“Come down if you’re hungry.”

You chuckled to yourself, waiting for them to leave so you could get ready.

Of course, as soon as you sat down in a booth, Hyunjin pushed Brendon aside and quickly slid next to you.

“Oh my god.” you rolled your eyes.

You were squished between him and Ana on your other side, and he was too close for comfort.

You could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash mixed with cigarettes.

You tried to ignore the feelings stirring in your gut as you ordered.

“So, how did you like sleeping on top of me?” Hyunjin smirked, tilting his head.

“Not as much as you liked sleeping under me, weirdo.” you scoffed at him and he chuckled.

“I liked it very much, so that must mean you liked it at least a little.” he said as the food arrived and your stomach growled.

“Whatever you say.” you brushed him off and started to dig in.

“We’re close to our first destination.” Anthony started after a sip of coffee. “We will arrive around 4pm and have lunch, then we get ready and do the soundcheck. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads no.

You suddenly felt nervous tingles running up your spine, and for some reason Hyunjin felt it.

“Don’t worry princess, you’ll do great.” he smirked, placing his hand on top of your wrist.

You snatched your hand away and looked at him.

“I know I will, I was just wondering if you’ll be able to keep up with me.” you smirked back at him.

“You’ll be surprised at how well I can keep up, baby.” Hyunjin leaned into your personal space, his eyes boring into yours and you felt your cheeks burning.

“Be nice, you two.” Ana chuckled.

“What? I haven't called him an asshole yet. Emphasis on yet.”

Hyunjin laughed next to you, his arm brushing against yours.

Oh, he is so going to enjoy this.

It was such a good, familiar feeling to sit behind a drum kit after being the main vocalist and guitarist of your band for so long.

The venue was empty at this moment and the sound of the drums echoing in the space was grand.

You closed your eyes and started playing a groove to get into the mood and Hyunjin was lured towards the stage instantly.

He watched you in awe even though he saw you play the drums before, they never had the name of his band on the front of them.

Hyunjin felt proud; that his band has come so far and honored that you were now a part of their story.

He hoped you’d enjoy the tour and judging by the blissful look on your face, you were off to a good start.

“Let’s go, Hyun.” Brendon smacked his shoulder, pulling him back to reality.

It was time for the soundcheck, and when everyone was finally on stage, tuning their instruments, you realized that this is real.

Excitement replaced any nerves you had and you were ready to tear the stage apart.

“Let’s jam a little.” Aiden smiled as everyone agreed.

He started to play a melody on his bass so you followed him with the drums.

You were so focused on grooving that you didn’t notice Hyunjin winking at his two other band members.

When it was time for him to start playing his guitar, Hyunjin decided to play totally out of tune.

You looked up at him with your brows furrowed as you tried to follow him.

He changed it up suddenly, that familiar shit eating grin spreading on his face as you followed him yet again.

Brendon and Aiden stopped playing as they observed the two of you, battling it out with your instruments.

Hyunjin was trying hard to get on your nerves, push your buttons but you weren’t gonna let him in.

“Having some trouble following, princess?” he yelled over the noise.

You looked at him pointedly as he started to play another melody that made no sense and you’ve had enough.

Hyunjin had a way of getting under your skin and he obviously knew that.

Your arm lifted up on its own accord and you swung one of your drumsticks right at Hyunjin, aiming for his empty head.

His eyes widened and he managed to dodge it in a close second as the drumstick clattered on the floor.

“Ha! Attempted murder! Y’all saw that!” he pointed at you, while looking at his friends and you started laughing.

“Don’t worry, even if it did hit your head, it couldn’t damage it more than it already is.” you smirked as Hyunjin huffed.

“Oh baby, keep talking. Degradation is my thing.” he motioned towards his ear with his fingers and you made a disgusted face at him.

Of course, the asshole laughed at your expression.

“Guys, can we actually practice?” Brendon chimed in as Aiden nodded.

Instead of answering verbally, you started playing so everyone joined in.

“Are you nervous?” Aiden asked as the venue filled up and it all became real.

“Nope, I’m ecstatic!” you answered, twirling your drumstick in your hand.

“Trying to murder me once again?” Hyunjin appeared next to you as you almost hit him with it.

“Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

“Nobody’s killing anyone, we’re already short on staff.” Anthony smirked before putting his arms around Hyunjin and Brendon’s shoulders.

“Good luck guys! And y/n, of course. I know y’all will do great.” Anthony smiled.

Ana came up to you to hug you.

“Good luck, babe!” she smiled.

“Thank you.” you gave her a bone crushing hug, she was always like a sister to you and having her here now meant a lot to you.

As soon as you walked out on stage, the screams of all the people that came to see you perform were deafening but heartwarming.

Hyunjin was the main character on stage, that you were convinced of as whatever he did resulted in even louder screaming.

You didn’t mind being the backbone of the band, playing drums to you was a meditative and transcending experience and anything you were angry or upset about, you could take it out while playing.

Performing with Lycoris Radiata was fun as fuck, even more than you hoped for; seeing Hyunjin up close made you realize just why people loved him so much.

He was charismatic, cool and lame at the same time, ethereally beautiful and down to earth, fun but sensitive, alluring but cute, he gave his all and more.

He was everything wrapped up in one and you wondered how that was possible.

A particular moment struck you; when you were playing a slower song, Hyunjin sang so delicately, his back turned to you as the lights beamed down on his frame, his sweaty hair and skin making him look like he was glowing.

Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it.

Near the end of the show, Hyunjin did his usual routine which consisted of making everyone’s panties wet; it was time for the sex song he always sang near the end which made you feel embarrassed and uncomfortable but something about being on stage with them got you in the right mood for it.

The part came up; and Hyunjin was on the floor, moaning and humping the air as you followed his moans with the heavy sound of your drums.

Hyunjin smirked, throwing his head back to look at you as he continued his ministrations and you continued following him on the drums.

Aiden and Brendon joined in as Hyunjin became louder, resulting in you hitting the drums harder as the sounds all came together in a crescendo.

You wished that you could press your thighs together to create pressure and friction because the whole thing managed to get you wet too.

A part of you felt ashamed but you didn’t give a flying fuck in that moment, completely letting go of everything as the four of you continued jamming together.

Hyunjin stood up with the biggest smile on his face, winking at you as he ran a lap around the stage before literally diving into the audience.

You gasped to yourself but continued playing the outro to the performance while Hyunjin was being groped by horny fanboys and fangirls.

Security was there to pull him back up on stage safely and Hyunjin sang the end of the song before screaming a ‘thank you’ into the mic.

After all four of you bowed a hundred times, you finally ran backstage where a very sweaty Hyunjin started hugging everyone, eventually coming up to you.

“Don’t even think about it.” you said as he opened his arms.

“Not thinking, just doing it.” he smirked and before you could run away, his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his body.

“Ew!” you squirmed against him and he chuckled.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” he held you tighter and your heart leaped out of your chest.

The bastard smelled so good even after sweating so much and it annoyed you how seemingly perfect he was.

“What, a gross sweaty man slobbering all over me?” you scrunched up your face as you finally pushed him away.

“I wasn’t slobbering but if you’re into that-”

“Please shut up while I’m still in a good mood.” you stopped him and he laughed.

“It’s so fun messing with you, darling.” Hyunjin ruffled your hair as you practically hissed at him, making him laugh again.

“You guys were fucking amazing!” Anthony yelled excitedly.

“I don’t know about you but I need some food.” Aiden piped in.

“I’m feeling thirsty, honestly.” Brendon added.

“Are we partying or what?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hell yeah, we are!” Anthony high-fived him.

You ended up having the afterparty in the bus, ordering some food and acquiring some beer as you sat around in the living space.

Of course, as soon as you walked in, you ran for the shower, with Hyunjin cascading behind you and asking if he could join you because “it’ll be done faster”.

“Dream about it, asshole!” you yelled before closing the bathroom door.

“Oh, I do.” Hyunjin smirked to himself, but you didn’t hear him.

The excitement of the performance slowly washed away from your body along with Hyunjin’s scent that lingered after he hugged you, and you felt happy and cozy.

All of you finally settled down to eat and Hyunjin claimed the spot next to you, of course, his long slender fingers stealing your fries constantly.

“Will you back off! You have your own fries.” you slapped his arm as he whined.

“Yours are tastier.” he claimed with that familiar smirk of his.

“Are they now?” you smirked back.

“Mhm.” he nodded pointedly.

“Let’s see then.” you grabbed your box and dumped all your fries into his box before mixing them up. “Pick one up and distinguish if it’s from your box or mine.”

Hyunjin stared at you with his lips parted before he smiled.

“Aw, we’re sharing.” he said and continued eating as you heard some chuckles around the table.

“For fucks sake.” you muttered, shaking your head.

The rest of the night was full of chatter and laughter, and you didn’t mind Hyunjin’s arm or leg brushing against you ever so often, or his loud laughter ringing in your ears or him constantly poking at you.

It’s barely been one day on tour and he wasn’t as unbearable as you thought he’d be.

Everyone was tired and you had to hit the road so it was finally peaceful, before a loud scream startled everyone.

“Oh no, I am going to die!” Hyunjin wailed dramatically.

“What’s wrong with him?” you rolled your eyes as Aiden came in.

“He lost his teddy bear.”

“He what?” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Hyunjin’s teddy, he always takes it with him. He’s had it since he was a baby and he’s convinced it brings him luck.” Aiden shrugged and Hyunjin ran into the living area.

“We are doomed!” he said, grabbing your arms and shaking you.

“Calm down, it must be around here somewhere.” you sighed.

“Help me look?” Hyunjin batted his eyelashes at you as Aiden slipped away.

“Hyunjin, I’m tired, I need to get some sleep.” you whined.

“Me too! But I can’t sleep without my teddy.” he said, you couldn’t believe he was serious. “I will crawl up to your bunk and annoy you all night if you don’t help me look.” he added, smirking.

“Fine, I’ll help you.” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you don’t want me in your bed at all?” he kept smirking.

“Zip it. Let’s find your precious teddy.”

“Yes!” Hyunjin scurried after you as the two of you basically did a search and rescue mission for his favorite plush.

Eventually, you walked into the other bathroom, finding the old teddy sitting on the counter.

“There you are.” you picked up, chuckling at the state of it.

You couldn’t help it as you sniffed the teddy and sure enough it smelled just like its owner.

“Found it!” you yelled and Hyunjin bursted in, panting and smiling.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, grabbing the teddy and then you as he enveloped you in a hug for the second time that night.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Hyunjin held you tightly and you chuckled.

“Alright, you’re thankful, I get it. You can let go now.” you said, patting his back.

“I owe you.” he muttered.

“I really didn’t do anything.”

“You did, trust me.” he smiled.

As you laid in your bunk bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyunjin.

He seemed somehow different or you were just now seeing different sides of him that you didn’t see before.

You didn’t hate him completely.

Ten days on tour and things were going great.

Every show was better than the last one, every venue bigger than the last one, every note played made Lycoris Radiata mean more and more to you.

Tonight was no exception as you ripped the stage once again, this time Hyunjin ended up lifting Aiden and spinning him at the end which almost made the poor man throw up from excitement.

“This was Lycoris Radiata, see you next time!” and with that you ran backstage where Hyunjin had to hug everyone, even asking for a group hug.

You had to humor him.

When your head finally hit the pillow, you couldn’t sleep even though you were exhausted.

You kept replaying one particular moment from the show in your head.

It was while Hyunjin was singing his famous sex song, before the moaning part, he came up to you and sang while looking at you.

You kept playing and looking at him intently as he sang the lewd lyrics right into your face.

Before he took off, Hyunjin lifted his hand, making a V shape with his fingers, doing the licking motion between them, his tongue piercing shining in the big stage light.

Your mouth fell agape for a moment as you felt hotness spread all over your body and he smirked smugly when you made a tiny mistake in your playing.

People didn’t notice but he did.

And he was satisfied with it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it had been a while since you’ve had a little ‘you time’ but it was hard to do that with so many people in the bus.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed, hearing some shuffling beneath you.

“Y/n?” Hyunjin suddenly climbed up into your bed, startling you as you sat up and turned on the little light inside.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep. And I figured you weren’t sleeping either.” Hyunjin whispered.

“And how did you figure that?” you clutched your blanket.

“You sighed like a hundred times.” he chuckled quietly.

“What do you want?” you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“To hang out.” he pulled out a deck of cards out of nowhere.

“We can’t make too much noise, we’ll wake everyone up.” you shook your head.

“Fine then we’ll do something quiet.” Hyunjin smirked, tossing the cards aside and laying down next to you, his eyes closing.

“Turn the light off, sweetheart.” he cracked one eye open as you stared at him in disbelief.

“You are not sleeping in my bunk. Go back downstairs.” you whispered.

“No.” he answered simply.

“Hyunjin, I’m warning you, I will push you down.”

“Will you? You’ll wake up the whole bus.” he smirked.

“God, you’re so annoying!” you whisper-yelled, giving up as you laid down, turning away from Hyunjin.

“Be nice and share your blanket.” Hyunjin’s breath hit the back of your neck, making you shiver as goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Need anything else?” you muttered as he hogged your blanket and your personal space.

“A goodnight kiss?” Hyunjin leaned over you, peering at your face hopefully.

You gave him the side eye and he chuckled.

“Maybe some other time, hm?” he asked.

“Go to sleep.” you said and he laid down behind you.

“Goodnight, darling.” Hyunjin wanted to reach out and touch your hair but he figured you’d probably break his arm.

You didn’t answer, your heart beating so hard that you were afraid it was shaking the bed and Hyunjin could feel it.

You quickly turned off the light and tried to calm down.

There was enough space to where he wasn’t touching you but you felt his warmth, his scent, his breath on your skin.

It was driving you crazy and making you feel calm at the same time.

You managed to fall asleep somehow.

At some point, in the middle of the night, Hyunjin and you gravitated closer to each other and you ended up in his arms.

When you slowly blinked your eyes open and realized you were staring straight at Hyunjin’s chest, you jolted away from him, making him groan quietly.

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled into your pillow, trying to grab you.

“As far as I can from you.” you said, wiggling out of his arm that eventually caught you as he groaned again.

“Something’s poking my ass.” Hyunjin gasped when he rolled over and you laughed.

“It’s the cards, you idiot.” rolling your eyes, you left the bunk feeling embarrassed and insane as your face heated up.

What are you doing, sleeping in the same bed as Hyunjin?

You hate him, right?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

Yes, he was annoying but somehow that became kind of endearing.

He has bugged you every single day since the tour started and if he suddenly stopped, it’d feel weird.

You sighed, shaking off your thoughts as you grabbed your phone, munching on your breakfast.

“Morning, y/n. Tell me am I crazy or did Hyunjin sleep over in your bunk?” Ana smirked at you as she brought two coffees.

“You are crazy. But yes, he slept in my bunk.” you said.

“Interesting.” she smirked, lifting one eyebrow up.

“Hey, I saw you sleeping in Anthony’s bunk multiple times. What’s that about?” you teased as you opened up your insta.

“Well, everyone knows we have a thing for each other. You and Hyunjin though… oh yeah, you have a thing too.”

“We don’t have a thing.” you quickly said as Ana chuckled.

“Right. Mhm.”

You continued scrolling, and that’s when you noticed it; the hate comments on your posts.

‘She’s just a slut who’s after Hyunjin’

‘She’s delusional if she thinks he’d like her like she’s ugly lmao’

‘Untalented bitch’

‘Get her away from my Hyunjin’

‘She deserved her band falling apart they were shit anyways’

‘Y/n should retire from the music scene’

Your eyes started stinging with tears as you skimmed through the comment section.

“What’s wrong?” Ana tilted her head to look at you.

You slid your phone to her and she gasped.

“You know these people are probably some jealous, unsuccessful suckers.” she said.

“I need some air.” you sucked in a breath before hurriedly leaving the bus.

“What’s with her?” Hyunjin walked in. “Is she mad at me?”

“No, look.” Ana showed him your phone.

Hyunjin frowned instantly, running out of the bus after you.

You stood not too far away with a cigarette in your hand as you hugged yourself with your other arm and Hyunjin’s eyes softened when he saw you shivering in the wind.

“I knew you’d forget to bring a jacket.” Hyunjin put his leather jacket around you, smoothing his hand over your back a few times.

You exhaled a puff of smoke, not answering him as you melted into his big jacket.

Hyunjin took out a cigarette for himself and you reached out with your lighter, lighting it up as he smirked.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Well, I’m feeling extra stressed right now so I needed something to take the edge off.” you shrugged.

“Because of the comments?”

“I don’t wanna talk about them.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighed.

“It’s not your fault.” you said.

“I feel like it is.”

Hyunjin was standing so close to you that his arm was touching yours while both of you continued smoking.

You stood silently next to each other for a few more moments as the clouds passed you by, and slowly but surely Hyunjin closed the gap between your hands as he touched yours briefly before he wrapped his pinky around yours.

“Hey, you know I’m honored you’re part of my band.” his tone was serious and you couldn’t bear to look at him or you’d burst into tears.

“I know.” you smiled as you kept looking into the distance.

He smiled too, his eyes focused on you.

Hyunjin had your back; and that was a pinky promise.

Finally, you arrived to your next destination, and you’d be there for a few days which meant you had to check into a hotel.

You were glad to have some time to yourself, you needed a real shower and a real bed and just some time to get away from everything, recharge your batteries.

You just finished with your shower and skincare when your phone annoyed you, buzzing with texts constantly.

When you grabbed it you realized that you forgot to change Hyunjin’s name from ‘asshole’.

You laughed to yourself, deciding to just add a little heart at the end.

asshole<3: y/n what are you doing

asshole<3: why aren’t you answering

asshole<3: i’m BOREEEED

asshole<3: y/n!!!!

asshole<3: princess?

asshole<3: i’m coming to your room

“Shit!” you exclaimed just in time when Hyunjin knocked on your door.

“Go away, Hyunjin!” you yelled on the other side.

“Never! I will wake the whole damn floor if you don’t open this door.” he banged against it.

“Spoiled brat.” you muttered to yourself before opening the door.

“Oh.” Hyunjin looked you up and down, your hair still wet from the shower, your little nightgown accentuating all your goodies.

“Did you dress up for me?” he smirked as his tongue darted out to play with his lip piercing; a habit you picked up on.

“Oh yeah, I was just waiting for you to come knocking on my door.” you answered sarcastically.

“Oh come on, I brought snacks.” he lifted up a few bags.

“You should’ve said that first.” you stepped aside, letting him in.

“So, are you here just because you’re bored?” you scoffed as he practically skipped to your bed before throwing himself on it.

“No, I’m here cause I know you miss me.” he smirked at you. “I spared you the walk to my room, princess.”

“Oh yeah, I am the one who missed you.” you said pointedly.

“I know you are.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned, throwing a pillow at him but the slick bastard caught it.

“I’m gonna change into something else.” you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Into what? After that outfit, the only logical thing is to have nothing on.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” you snickered.

“I would.” he smirked.

“Changing right now!” you left for the bathroom to put on some actual pjs.

“Don’t cross this line, Hyunjin.” you pointed as the two of you settled in your bed, ready to watch a movie and snack.

He smiled his shit eating grin and put his finger over the line.

“Whoops, crossed it.”

“Next time you lose a finger.” you threatened.

“Where is it gonna be misplaced?” he smirked.

“Not where you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” he leaned closer to you. “But I can show you.”

“No thanks. Just watch the movie.”

It was quiet for some time until Hyunjin spoke up.

“I’m thinking of getting another tattoo.”

“Oh?” you didn’t take your eyes off the screen. “Where?”

“My back. I wanna finish what I started with my arm and shoulder.” he answered.

“Which is?” you looked at him and he smirked.

“Glad you asked.” he said, taking his shirt off.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” you jolted as he tossed it aside.

“Showing you my tattoos.” he giggled. “See, it’s one big picture. I sketched the original on my paper, it’s a flower’s life story. From a little seed all the way to the dust it becomes after it wilts forever. It’s not finished yet though.” he turned and you gulped.

“That’s a beautiful thought actually.”

“Feel the flowers.” Hyunjin turned his shoulder to you.

“I’m not gonna touch your tattoos.” you said.

“Come on, you know you want to.” he taunted you.

“No, I don’t.” you shook your head.

“Yes, you do. You started ogling me as soon as I took my shirt off.”

“That’s because of your musc- nothing, nevermind.” you quickly caught yourself, biting your tongue as your face started burning.

“Because of what? My muscles? You like them?” he started flexing immediately.

“That’s disgusting, stop acting like that.” you slapped his arm without thinking and you both froze.

“Oh.” Hyunjin smirked before taking your hand in his. “Really, I want you to feel my tattoos.”

“Fine if it gets you to shut up.”

Your fingers gently traced the delicate art on Hyunjin’s skin, starting from his wrist up his arm as you watched goosebumps rise on his skin.

You took your time to trace every leaf and petal as Hyunjin looked at you intently, his breaths coming out shaky as you traced over his arm, your fingers swirling with the intricate patterns.

Your hand came up to his shoulder as you continued tracing, his skin was so smooth and he was so warm under your touch.

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whispered, his hand covering yours as he leaned in closer to you, his eyelids hooded.

Your eyes widened when you realized he was about to kiss you and you quickly moved away.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you stood up and Hyunjin frowned at you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?!”

“Trying to get into my pants!” you scoffed. “I think you should sleep in your room.”

“B-but, it’s not like that!” Hyunjin stood up and you backed away.

“I know what it’s like. Please leave.”

“Fine.” Hyunjin looked dejected as he grabbed his phone and shirt. “Teddy is lonely without me anyways.” he said, making a theatrical leave out of your room as he dragged his feet and kept giving you pointed looks.

You were almost close to telling him he can stay, but as soon as he leaned in, you panicked and didn’t know how to react so you kept your mouth shut.

And you continued spiralling when he left, thinking about if he actually likes you or just wants to fuck you like he does to any girl.

You’ve seen him with girls on his arms constantly and while you always thought what you felt was hate or disgust; in this moment you recognized it was jealousy and it didn’t feel good at all.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

part 2

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street-smarts00 · 1 year ago

Text

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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sunhee27 · 8 months ago

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☆ Thing Enhypen do at night/ when they are sleeping.

• 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ! r・fluff established relationship ・kisses, petnames (^-^) pls reblog if you like it and requests are welcome.

(Sorry some of the letters are big, I can’t change it) :(

• 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

-Pouts

The man pouts! Yes he does, especially when sleeping. It’s honestly the cutest thing ever. Of course he denies it, and that makes it even more cute in a way. “I don’t pout!” He whines into your ear after he is begging for a kiss and you tell him that you will only give him a kiss if he admits that he pouts in his sleep. He hugs you and cuddles you while whining. He whines again at you. “Kiss me!!!! >:(“ He ‘cries’ into you ear to which you just give in. You can’t help but give him a little peck on his pouty lips when he is snuggled against you.

-Switching spots

Do you know what I mean here? probably not. But like once you are asleep, you will turn to the other side, which Heeseung doesn’t like because he likes you facing him to hug you against his chest. Or sometimes he likes back hugging you. So when you turn around, he IS gonna scoop you up and put you on his side of the bed, and he will switch to being on your side of the bed, so that he can hug you in his desired position.

(Rest of the members under the cut)

• 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

-Stealing blankets

It’s tiring and it annoys you, but you kinda live for it when he steals your blanket. He doesn’t even seem to notice himself. It’s just a habit he picked up. If he steals yours, you steal his! And that goes on and on. But you don’t complain…only a little. “Stop stealing my blanket at night.” You say. “Man, but yours is always warmer.” He pouts. “Get over it. You can just hug me if it is.” You scoff. “I would…IF I COULD CONTROL MYSELF WHEN I AM SLEEPING.” He argues back pulling you by the waist. “Fine. It doesn’t bother me more than that. But only because I love you so much.” You give up.

-Strokes your hair

When he notices that you have fallen asleep, he will just stroke your hair as a reflex almost 😅 And sometimes you will stir awake, to which he apologises faster than light itself. But honestly you only woke up because it felt nice to have your hair stroked.

• 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

-Talks

Who would’ve thought, jakey jakey talks in his sleep. He mumbles and talks, rambling about his day, about you 🥺 You voice recorded him saying that you were his princess. And it may have boosted his boyfriend ego. “Did I say that?” He laughs at it. ”Clearly yeah.” You giggle back, he connects your foreheads. “Do you know what that means?” He hovers over you in the bed. ”No” you giggle again. “That I am obsessed with you.” He smiles.

-Does tasks

Broski think you go to bed too early, even if he is the first of all members to go to sleep. So he will just cuddle up with you until you fall asleep, and then… get ready for bed. Doing tasks, all sort of tasks. And you would wake up slightly, still half in dream land. ‘it’s just an illusion’ he would say when he notices that he woke you up. Because he doesn’t want to make you feel bad for making him cuddle with you until you fall asleep, even if he loves doing it.

• 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

-Lightly snoring

Idols don’t snore… Bullshit! At least this man does. It’s cute when he makes small noises and groans at night. And he knows that he does it. And only just nervously laugh when the topic is brought up. His members tease him with it too. “I know I snore, but let’s just act like I don’t!!!” He says in an embarrassed tone. “But it’s cute.” You giggle. “No…” he pouts. But you will truly never stop teasing him about it.

-Swings leg around you

He sleeps late, looking at his phone. And out of nowhere he will probably swing a leg or two around you. Like they are heavy man! But you don’t mind it when he then pulls you closer with his legs :D Cute man indeed

• 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 (김선우)

-expressions

Believe me when I say. I think he dreams a lot. And his face shows it all, happy, sulky, mad, frustrated, scared. And as soon as you notice he is having a nightmare and breath is uneven, you will wake him up. And he will squirm before noticing it’s just his sweet girlfriend who is before his eyes. “You scared the shit outta me. But thank for waking me up.” He would say. And he would ask you to hug him for the rest of the night.

-Go to sleep early and wake up in the middle of the night

The title says it all. He would go early think it would be good for his beauty sleep. But he would then wake up in the middle of the night not being able to sleep at all. And would literally not give a shit about YOUR beauty sleep, and he would wake you up to gossip together until you both fall into slumbers again.

• 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 (양정원)

-Get cold and crawl under the blankets

It’s so cute to watch the little kitten crawl all the way under the blankets at night. Like he would roll himself into a little ball under the warmth of his blanket and then snuggle up to you. “Bllrr, it’s so colllddddddd.” He shivers. “Do you need an extra blanket.” You laugh sitting up beside him. “If you are the blanket, then yes.” He teases.

-Dry lips

Don’t ask me how he would literally, feel in his sleep, that his lips are chapped. But he would a million times in a night. And of course he would make sure to gloss up your lips too. So that his pretty girl is also satisfied with her lips in the morning.

• 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 (西村力)

-Moves a lot

He would absolutely destroy you, crush you with his six feet long body. He would roll in his sleep without noticing it and before he knows it you are about to fall of the bed. “Nikiiiiii, you are so heavyyy.” You whine under him. And shit he would wake up and be so embarrassed by it. “Sorryyy.” He would laugh. Definitely forgiven 👍

-Get up and get snacks

He would do something like this. He would wake up hangry. So he would check out the fridge then the pantry and then whatever else there is, before deciding to just toast a piece of bread. And then you would pop up and you would end up sitting in comfortable silence eating bread together.

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mandoalorian · 9 days ago

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to be yours [bucky barnes x f!reader]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart.”

inspired by the song turning page — sleeping at last.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

synopsis: when you break up with your boyfriend, you seek comfort and solace in the arms of your best friend, bucky barnes.

warnings: 18+ explicit content (unprotected p in v, f receiving oral, m receiving oral, fingering, body worship, bucky is obsessed with you) mdni, lots of pining and slow burn, friends to lovers, a smidge of angst in the middle, mentions of alcohol, bucky is in therapy, allusions to a toxic ex boyfriend, bucky comforts you through a bad breakup. set post endgame, pre tfatws.

w/c: 11,600>

masterlist

The Brooklyn skyline flickered through Bucky’s window, a jagged line of lights against the autumn dusk. Inside, his apartment was quiet, save for the soft crackle of a vinyl record spinning on the turntable—some old jazz standard Sam had insisted he’d like. Bucky didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t the music that held his attention. It was the phone in his hand, the screen glowing with a photo he couldn’t stop staring at.

You and him, last summer, sprawled on a picnic blanket in Prospect Park. You were laughing, head thrown back, eyes crinkled in that way that made his chest ache. He’d been mid-eye-roll in the shot, pretending to be annoyed at your bad joke about his “grumpy cat face,” but the corner of his mouth had betrayed him, curling into a smile. Sam had snapped the picture, saying something dumb like, “Y’all look like an old married couple.” Bucky had brushed it off, but the words had stuck, burrowing deep.

He set the phone face-down on the coffee table, like that could shut off the feeling. It didn’t. Bucky leaned back on the couch, running his flesh hand through his hair, the metal one resting heavy on his thigh. The apartment felt too big tonight, too empty. He’d gotten used to the quiet since moving back to Brooklyn after the Blip, after Wakanda, after everything. Therapy, amends, trying to be a person again—it was a routine, but it wasn’t a life. Not really. Not without you.

He’d known you for two years now, ever since Sam introduced you at one of those post-Blip support group things. You’d been volunteering, handing out coffee with that smile that could light up a room, and Bucky, fresh off his Wakandan reset, had barely known how to talk to you. But you’d made it easy, teasing him about his gloves, asking if he was hiding “super-secret spy gear.” He’d mumbled something sarcastic, and just like that, you were friends. Best friends, eventually. The kind who texted at 3 a.m., who showed up with takeout when the other needed it, who knew each other’s silences as well as their words.

And somewhere along the way, Bucky had fallen for you. Hard. Stupidly. The kind of love that made him feel like a kid again, all nerves and hope, but also like a fool, because who was he kidding? You were bright, whole, alive. He was a hundred-and-nine years old in a body that didn’t age, with a rap sheet longer than the Brooklyn Bridge and nightmares that didn’t quit. You deserved better. Always had.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of it. Your name lit up the screen, and his heart did that traitor thing—skipping a beat before he could tell it to calm down. He grabbed the phone, swiping to open the message.

You: Hey Buck, you free this weekend? Things with Josh are… kinda weird. Could use some bestie time.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. Josh. Your boyfriend of eight months, the guy who’d swept you off your feet with his easy charm and lawyer job. Bucky had met him a few times—dinners, game nights—and every time, he’d had to swallow the urge to say something. Josh wasn’t bad, not exactly, but he didn’t see you. Not the way you deserved. He didn’t notice how your laugh changed when you were nervous, or how you’d ramble about your day when you were happy, or how you’d curl your fingers into your sleeves when you felt small. Bucky noticed. He always noticed.

He typed back, fingers steady despite the knot in his chest: Yeah, I’m free. Name the time, I’m there. You okay?

The three dots appeared, then vanished, then appeared again. Finally: Not sure. Just… need you. Talk soon?

Need you. The words hit like a punch, soft but deep. He wanted to be everything you needed—friend, protector, more—but he’d settle for what you gave him. He always did.

Always, doll, he replied, the old nickname slipping out before he could stop it. He hoped it made you smile.

He set the phone down and stood, pacing to the window. The city hummed below, indifferent to the war in his head. He’d never told you how he felt, not once. At first, it was because he didn’t trust himself, didn’t think he could love anyone without breaking them. Then Josh came along, and Bucky had locked his feelings up tight, because your happiness mattered more than his. But every time you hugged him, every time you fell asleep on his couch during movie nights, every time you looked at him like he was more than a ghost of a man, it got harder to keep quiet.

He pressed his metal hand against the glass, the cold grounding him. Maybe he was selfish, hoping things with Josh were falling apart. Maybe he was broken, wanting you to need him in a way you never had. But he couldn’t help it. He loved you in the quiet way he did everything—fierce, steady, unspoken.

The record skipped, pulling him back. He crossed the room, lifting the needle and setting it back gently. The music started again, a saxophone weaving through the melody like a sigh. He sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling, and let himself imagine, just for a moment, what it’d be like to hold you. Not as a friend, but as something more. Your head on his chest, his fingers in your hair, your breath against his skin. The thought was so vivid it hurt.

He closed his eyes. One day, maybe, he’d be brave enough to tell you. But not tonight. Tonight, he’d wait, like he always did, ready to be whatever you needed.

A sudden knock at the door jolted Bucky upright, waking him in an instant. It was sharp, desperate, not the casual rap you’d usually give. His heart kicked up a notch, and he crossed the room in three strides, the metal arm whirring softly as he moved.

He opened the door, and there you were—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to your face, mascara streaking down your cheeks like dark rivers. Your eyes were red, swollen, and you were shivering, arms wrapped around yourself like you could hold the pieces together. Bucky’s breath caught, a pang of something fierce and protective twisting in his chest.

“Jesus, doll,” he said, voice rough with worry. “Get in here.”

You didn’t move at first, just stood there, lips trembling. “He’s gone, Buck,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Josh… he just—ended it. Said I’m too much, said he’s done.” A sob choked out, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, like you could shove the hurt back inside.

Bucky didn’t think. He reached for you, pulling you inside and kicking the door shut. The rain had soaked through your jacket, your shirt, leaving you dripping on his hardwood floor, but he didn’t care. He grabbed a blanket from the couch—a soft, gray thing he’d bought because you’d once said it looked cozy—and wrapped it around your shoulders, guiding you to sit. “Stay there,” he said, softer now, but firm. “I’m getting you something warm.”

You nodded, barely, your eyes distant as you sank onto the couch, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. Bucky moved fast, filling a kettle, digging through his sparse kitchen for the chamomile tea you liked. His hands were steady, but his mind was a mess—anger at Josh, worry for you, and that selfish, nagging ache that always flared when you were this close. He shoved it down, like always.

When he came back with the steaming mug, you were still shivering, staring at the floor. He set the tea on the coffee table and crouched in front of you, his flesh hand hovering near your knee before he pulled it back. “Talk to me,” he said, voice low, like he was coaxing a scared animal. “What happened?”

You swallowed, eyes flicking to his, and the raw pain there hit him like a punch. “I don’t even know where to start,” you said, voice small. “It’s been bad for weeks. He’s been… distant, snapping at me for nothing. Tonight, we fought, and he just—he said I’m too emotional, too needy. Said he can’t deal with me anymore.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, ashamed. “Maybe he’s right.”

“He’s not,” Bucky said, sharper than he meant to. He softened his tone, leaning closer. “He’s a damn idiot, and he never deserved you. You’re not too much. You’re…” He stopped himself, the words you’re everything catching in his throat. Instead, he said, “You’re enough. More than enough.”

You gave a shaky laugh, wiping your eyes with the edge of the blanket. “You’re biased. You’re my best friend.”

Friend. The word stung, but he forced a small smile. “Yeah, well, doesn’t make me wrong.” He stood, grabbing one of his hoodies from the armchair—a navy one you’d stolen before, the one he secretly loved seeing you in. “Put this on. You’re gonna catch pneumonia.”

You took it, fingers brushing his, and he felt that spark, the one he always tried to ignore. You peeled off your wet jacket, and he turned away, giving you privacy as you changed. When he glanced back, you were drowning in his hoodie, the sleeves too long, the hem hitting your thighs. His heart did a slow, painful flip.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling the blanket back around you. You picked up the tea, cradling it, and patted the couch beside you. “Sit with me? Please?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He sat, close but not too close, though every nerve screamed to pull you into him. You sipped the tea, then leaned your head back, eyes closing. “You’re too good to me, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine,” he said, but his voice was rough, betraying him. “You’re tougher than you think.”

You opened your eyes, looking at him with something he couldn’t quite read—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper. “I don’t feel tough right now.”

He wanted to say a thousand things, but instead, he reached out, his flesh hand resting lightly on your arm. “You don’t have to be. Not tonight.”

You set the mug down and, without warning, shifted closer, curling into his side. Your head found his shoulder, your body pressing against his, and Bucky froze. The blanket slipped, and you were so close—too close—your warmth seeping through the hoodie, your breath soft against his neck. His body burned, every muscle taut as he fought the urge to wrap his arms around you, to pull you even closer. She’s hurting, he told himself. She needs a friend, not you losing it.

But then you tucked yourself tighter against him, one arm sliding across his chest, and he was done for. His heart pounded, and he was sure you could hear it, feel it. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and you sighed, a small, broken sound. “Can I just… stay here for a bit?” you whispered.

“Long as you need,” he managed, voice low, almost a growl. He draped his arm around you, careful, like you might break, but you only nestled closer, your legs curling up under the blanket. His metal arm stayed rigid at his side, afraid to touch you, afraid of what it’d mean.

The storm roared outside, but inside, it was just the two of you, the quiet stretching until you spoke again. “You ever feel like… you’re just going through the motions?” you asked, voice soft. “Like, no matter how hard you try, you’re stuck?”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He knew that feeling too well. “Yeah,” he said, staring at the rain-streaked window. “More than you know.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him. “Your therapy… is it helping? You don’t talk about it much.”

He stiffened, caught off guard. He hadn’t planned to go there, but your eyes were searching, and he couldn’t lie to you. “It’s… something,” he said, exhaling. “Dr. Raynor’s got me journaling, making amends. Says it’s supposed to make me feel like I’m moving forward. But most days, it feels like I’m just… checking boxes. Like I’m still the guy who did all those things, and no amount of talking’s gonna change that.”

You frowned, your hand tightening on his shirt. “You’re not that guy anymore, Buck. You’re not the Winter Soldier. You’re you. The guy who makes me tea at 1 a.m., who remembers I hate olives on my pizza. The guy who’s here, right now, when I’m falling apart.”

He swallowed hard, your words cutting deeper than you knew. “You make it sound easy,” he said, a bitter edge to his voice. “Like I can just… be normal.”

“You don’t have to be normal,” you said fiercely. “You just have to be you. That’s enough for me.”

His chest ached, and he looked down at you, your face so close he could count the flecks in your eyes. You were still curled against him, your body warm and soft, and his control was fraying. He wanted to kiss you, to pour everything he felt into it, but you were raw, broken from Josh’s cruelty. So he just held you, his flesh hand stroking your arm in slow, soothing circles, even as his body screamed for more.

“You don’t know how much that means,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You… you’re the best part of my day, you know that?”

You smiled, small but real, and it was like the sun breaking through the storm. “Right back at you, Barnes.” You shifted, your head resting heavier on his shoulder, and within minutes, your breathing slowed, your body relaxing into his as sleep took you.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t dare. You were asleep in his arms, your warmth seeping into him, and it was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he couldn’t have. His heart was a warzone—love, guilt, need, all fighting for space. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, so light you wouldn’t feel it, and whispered, “I’m here, doll. Always.”

The rain kept falling, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky didn’t feel alone.

The first morning you woke up in Bucky’s apartment, the smell of coffee hit you before your eyes even opened. You were curled on his couch, still wrapped in his navy hoodie, the blanket tucked around you like he’d checked on you in the night. The storm had passed, leaving a soft gray light filtering through the windows, and from the kitchen came the clink of dishes, the low hum of Bucky moving around.

You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and caught sight of him—hair pulled back in a messy bun, wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his shoulders, his metal arm glinting as he flipped a pancake with surprising finesse. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and for a moment, you just watched him, this man who’d become your anchor. The ache in your chest from Josh’s betrayal was still there, sharp and raw, but seeing Bucky—steady, quiet, there—made it feel like maybe you could breathe again.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he called without turning, his voice warm but teasing. “Thought you’d sleep till noon.”

You grinned, despite yourself. “Not all of us are super-soldiers with no need for rest.” You stretched, the hoodie riding up, and caught his quick glance before he busied himself with the coffee pot.

“Pancakes?” he asked, sliding a plate across the counter. “Figured you could use some comfort food.”

You padded over, barefoot, and leaned against the counter, peering at the stack. “You made these from scratch? Who are you, and what’d you do with Bucky Barnes?”

He chuckled, low and rough, and the sound warmed you more than the coffee. “Sam’s fault. Kept going on about his mom’s recipe. Had to learn it to shut him up.”

You took a bite, and damn if it wasn’t perfect—fluffy, just sweet enough. “Okay, Barnes, you’re hired. Personal chef from now on.”

He smirked, but his eyes were soft, watching you like you were the only thing in the room. “Deal. Long as you keep stealing my hoodies.”

The next few weeks blurred into a rhythm you hadn’t expected to feel so… right. You’d gone back to your place once, just to grab clothes and essentials, but the apartment felt haunted—Josh’s cologne still lingered on the couch, his half-empty beer in the fridge. You’d packed a bag and fled back to Bucky’s, and when you’d mumbled something about not wanting to impose, he’d just given you that look—half-exasperated, half-tender—and said, “Stay as long as you need, doll. I got you.”

So you stayed. His apartment became your sanctuary, a bubble of quiet warmth against the world. Mornings were coffee and pancakes or sometimes just cereal, the two of you bumping elbows at the tiny kitchen counter, trading sleepy smiles. Evenings were takeout or Netflix marathons, you sprawled on the couch with your feet in his lap, him grumbling about your cold toes but never pushing them away. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, his blue eyes soft but guarded, like he was holding something back. You didn’t push, though. You were too raw, too afraid of what you’d find if you looked too close.

But the moments piled up, small and intimate, stitching you closer. One night, you burned popcorn in his microwave, and he laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch, teasing you about your “culinary skills” until you threw a pillow at him. Another day, he taught you how to shadowbox, his hands guiding your wrists, his voice low and patient as he corrected your stance. His touch lingered a beat too long, and you both pretended not to notice.

Then there was the morning you almost broke him.

You’d showered, forgetting to grab a clean towel, and figured you could dart to the linen closet without being seen. Bucky was out getting groceries—or so you thought. You stepped out of the bathroom, damp hair sticking to your shoulders, a towel barely wrapped around you, and froze when you heard the front door click open. Bucky stood there, bags in hand, his eyes locking onto you before he quickly turned away, cheeks flushing red.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, staring hard at the wall, his jaw tight. “Didn’t know you were…”

“It’s fine!” you squeaked, clutching the towel tighter, your own face burning. You bolted for the closet, grabbing a towel and scurrying to the guest room—his room, really, since he’d insisted you take the bed. When you emerged, fully dressed in his hoodie and your jeans, he was in the kitchen, unpacking groceries like his life depended on it.

You tried to laugh it off. “Guess I owe you for the heart attack, huh?”

He snorted, not meeting your eyes. “Yeah, warn a guy next time.” But his voice was strained, and you caught the way his hands shook slightly as he shoved a carton of milk into the fridge. You didn’t know it, but his mind was a mess—your bare shoulders, the water droplets on your skin, the way the towel had clung to you. He’d spent a decade as a weapon, trained to stay calm under pressure, but you in a towel? That was a mission he wasn’t equipped for.

That night, you sat cross-legged on the couch, a pizza box between you, some old rom-com flickering on the TV. You were quieter than usual, the weight of the breakup creeping back in. Bucky noticed—he always did. He set his slice down, turning to you, his knee brushing yours.

“You okay?” he asked, voice soft but searching. “You’ve been… off tonight.”

You sighed, picking at the crust. “Just thinking about Josh. Not him, exactly, but… how I didn’t see it. How I let myself feel so small with him.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated how fragile you still felt. “I keep wondering what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, a flicker of anger in his eyes—not at you, never at you. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said, firm but gentle. “He didn’t see you, not the way you deserve. You’re…” He stopped, swallowing hard, like the words were too big, too dangerous. “You’re incredible, you know that? The way you light up a room, the way you make people feel like they matter. He was too weak to handle that.”

You looked at him, eyes glassy, and something shifted in the air—something heavy, unspoken. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” he said, and his voice was so earnest it made your chest ache. You reached for him, needing the comfort of him, and he didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, your cheek against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear. You wrapped your arms around him, sinking into the warmth of him, the familiar scent of cedar and soap that was so Bucky.

His body tensed for a split second, like he was bracing himself. You were so close, your arms tight around him, your breath warm against his shirt, and it was torture. His flesh hand rested on your back, fingers flexing like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. His mind was screaming—she’s hurting, she’s your friend, don’t ruin this—but his body wasn’t listening, heat pooling low in his stomach, his pulse racing. He’d dreamed of holding you like this, but not like this, not when you were broken and he was supposed to be your safe place.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmured, voice muffled against him. “I don’t deserve you.”

He laughed, a low, shaky sound. “You got that backward, doll.” His metal arm stayed rigid at his side, afraid to touch you, afraid of what it’d mean if he let himself feel too much. But you didn’t notice, just held him tighter, and he let himself have this moment, even if it was all he’d ever get.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were softer, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” you said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anytime,” he said, and he meant it—every word, every syllable, every beat of his heart that belonged to you, even if you didn’t know it.

Weeks had gone by and the storm outside persisted, thunder cracking loud enough to rattle your nerves. Inside, the tension was worse—a coiled, unspoken thing that had been simmering all evening, growing sharper with every glance, every forced smile. You sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, your phone gripped too tightly in your lap, the screen dark but burning with the memory of Josh’s text from earlier that day: Still living with Barnes? Figures. You were always his, even when you were mine. No wonder you’re alone now.

The words had sunk their claws into you, dragging up every doubt, every fight you’d had with Josh about Bucky. “You’re obsessed with him,” Josh had snapped once, months ago, when you’d canceled dinner to help Bucky through a rough night. “It’s not normal, you know? You’re too close, and he’s too screwed up to be just a friend.” You’d defended Bucky then, furious, but now, weeks after the breakup, living in Bucky’s apartment, leaning on him for everything, Josh’s voice echoed louder. Were you too much? Too needy? Had you pushed Josh away by being too close to Bucky? And worse—were you dragging Bucky down with you, burdening him with your broken pieces?

You glanced at Bucky, who was in the kitchen, drying dishes from your earlier dinner with that quiet focus you’d come to rely on. His hair was loose, brushing his jaw, his henley clinging to his frame, the metal arm glinting under the soft light. He was beautiful, you’d realised weeks ago, but tonight that thought felt like a betrayal—of Josh, of your friendship, of yourself. You didn’t deserve Bucky’s kindness, not when you were such a mess, not when Josh’s words made you question everything about who you were to him.

“You’ve been staring at that phone like it’s gonna bite you,” Bucky said, his voice cutting through the silence, light but tinged with concern. He leaned against the counter, towel slung over his shoulder, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

You forced a shrug, setting the phone face-down on the couch, but your fingers twitched, betraying your nerves. “Just… nothing. Stupid stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, the metal one whirring softly. “You’ve been off all day, doll. Don’t give me that ‘nothing’ crap. What’s going on?”

The nickname—doll—hit you harder than usual, warm and familiar but laced with something you couldn’t name. You looked away, your chest tight, Josh’s text looping in your head. “It’s Josh,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “He texted me today.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. He stepped into the living room, sitting on the coffee table in front of you, close enough that his knee brushed yours. “What’d that asshole say?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the anger simmering beneath it.

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. Telling Bucky felt like opening a wound, but his eyes were steady, waiting, and you couldn’t lie to him. “He said I’m still… living with you. That I was always yours, even when I was with him.” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, forcing the rest out. “He said that’s why I’m alone now.”

Bucky’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles whitening. “He’s got some nerve,” he growled, leaning forward. “He’s the one who hurt you, and now he’s throwing this shit at you? He’s wrong, you know that, right?”

But you didn’t know that. Not anymore. The doubt had taken root, and it was choking you. You stood abruptly, needing to move, pacing toward the window where the rain streaked the glass. “What if he’s not wrong?” you said, voice rising, sharp with self-loathing. “What if I am too much? Too clingy, too dependent? He always said I was too close to you, that I leaned on you too much, and now look at me—living here, eating your food, crying on your shoulder every damn night. Maybe I pushed him away because I was always running to you.”

Bucky stood, his boots heavy on the hardwood, and you could feel his presence behind you, solid and warm. “That’s his poison talking,” he said, voice firm but strained. “He wanted to control you, make you feel small. You’re not too much. You’re—”

“Then why did he leave?” you snapped, spinning to face him, tears burning your eyes. “Why did he say I was never really his? Because of this—because of us, because I can’t seem to function without you! And now I’m here, dragging you into my mess, making you deal with me when you’ve got your own life, your own demons. I’m screwing this up too, aren’t I? Just like I screwed it up with him.”

The words poured out, raw and jagged, and you saw the hurt flash across Bucky’s face, his eyes widening like you’d slapped him. He stepped back, his expression tightening, and your stomach dropped. Oh god, what did I just say? Your inner voice was screaming, replaying your words, realizing how they must’ve sounded—like you blamed him, like your closeness was the problem. But it wasn’t him, it was you, always you, ruining everything.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low, almost dangerous.

“You think you’re screwing this up?” he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing with something you’d never seen before—anger, yes, but something deeper, more desperate. “You think being here, being with me, is some kind of mistake? Because let me tell you something, doll, I’ve been carrying this for years, and I’m done pretending it’s nothing.”

Your breath caught, confusion and fear mixing with the pounding of your heart. “Carrying what?” you whispered, but you knew, deep down, you knew, and it terrified you.

He laughed, a bitter, broken sound, running his flesh hand through his hair. “You really don’t see it, do you? I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, and every single day since has been me trying to be what you need without asking for anything back. But hearing you say you’re dragging me down, that we’re the problem? I can’t take it anymore.”

The words hit you like a thunderclap, stealing your air, your thoughts, everything. You stared at him, his chest heaving, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and your mind reeled. He loves me. The realisation crashed through you, shattering every doubt, every wall you’d built. You thought back to the nights he’d stayed up with you, the mornings he’d made you laugh, the way his touch lingered, soft and reverent. Josh’s accusations had twisted it, made you question your bond, but now it was clear—Bucky wasn’t just your friend. He was your home, your heart, and you’d been too blind to see it.

“Bucky,” you said, voice trembling, stepping closer, but he shook his head, backing away like your nearness hurt him.

“Don’t,” he said, voice rough, his hands clenched at his sides. “Don’t come closer, because if you do, I’m not gonna be able to stop myself. I’ve been holding this in for so long, and I can’t—I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”

Your heart was racing, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you hated yourself for hurting him, for making him think he was anything less than everything. Josh’s words were ash now, meaningless against the truth standing in front of you. You’d been running from your feelings, afraid of ruining what you had, but now you saw it—the way your heart leapt when he smiled, the way your body craved his touch, the way you felt whole with him in a way you never had with Josh.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, stepping toward him, ignoring his warning. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not blaming you—I’m blaming me, because I’m scared, Bucky. I’m scared I ruined everything with Josh, and I’m terrified I’m going to ruin us too. But I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, because…” Your voice broke, and you took another step, close enough to feel the heat of him. “Because I love you too.”

He froze, his eyes searching yours, like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “What?” he whispered, voice raw, vulnerable.

“I love you,” you said again, louder, surer, the words spilling out like it was the purest thing you’ve ever known. “I was too stupid to see it, but I love you, Bucky. I’m in love with you.”

He stared at you, his breath ragged, and then he moved—fast, desperate, his hands cupping your face as he crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was fire, years of longing and pain pouring into every press of his mouth, his teeth grazing your lip, his tongue sweeping against yours like he needed to taste you to believe you were real. You gasped into him, your hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with everything you had. His metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt the hard planes of his body, the heat of him, the way he trembled like he was afraid you’d slip away.

You stumbled back, his arms steadying you, and you hit the wall, his body pressing into yours, pinning you there. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, hot and urgent, and you moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m sorry,” you gasped between kisses, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He pulled back, his forehead against yours, his breath coming in sharp pants. “You didn’t,” he said, voice rough but soft, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re here. You love me. That’s all I need.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, deep and tender, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his hands, the way he held you like you were everything. Your heart was still racing, but it wasn’t fear anymore—it was certainty, love, the kind that burned away every doubt. “I’m yours,” you whispered against his lips, and he groaned, kissing you harder, his hands sliding under your hoodie, his touch setting your skin alight.

“Bucky,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt, needing more, needing him, but he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire but searching, checking.

“You sure?” he asked, voice strained, like it was killing him to pause. “Because I’m all in, doll, but I need you to be too.”

You nodded, your hands framing his face, thumbs tracing his jaw. “I’m sure. I want you. I want us.”

He exhaled, a shaky, relieved sound, and then he was kissing you again, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the bedroom, the storm outside fading as you fell into each other, ready to claim what you’d both been denying for too long.

His kiss was a wildfire, consuming, years of unspoken love and longing poured into every slide of his mouth, every graze of his teeth. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he pressed you against the doorframe, his metal arm holding you effortlessly, his flesh hand gripping your hip like you were his lifeline.

“Bucky,” you gasped, breaking the kiss, your forehead pressed to his, your breaths mingling in the dim light. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but beneath the hunger was something softer—reverence, awe, like he couldn’t believe you were here, in his arms, saying you loved him after all this time. “I need you.”

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in your core, his lips brushing your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with need, his teeth grazing your pulse point, a soft nip that made you shiver, your hips rocking against him instinctively. “I’ve wanted you for so long, doll—every day, every night, for years.”

His words were a spark, igniting something deep inside you, a mix of love and desire so intense it stole your breath. You tugged at his henley, your fingers clumsy with urgency, needing to feel his skin, to know he was real. He set you down gently, just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow across his chest, illuminating the hard planes of muscle, the faint lines of old wounds, and the stark, jagged scars where his metal arm fused with his shoulder. He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes flickering with a shadow of doubt, like he expected you to pull away, to see the broken parts of him and flinch.

You didn’t. You stepped closer, your hands trembling as they reached for him, your fingers tracing the raised scars with a tenderness that made his breath catch. The skin was uneven, a map of pain and survival, and you felt a lump in your throat, not from pity, but from love—so fierce it hurt. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice thick, “these don’t make you less. They make you you. And you’re beautiful—every part of you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “You’re gonna ruin me, doll,” he said, his voice raw, almost broken, and when he opened his eyes, they were glistening, a mix of desire and vulnerability that made your heart ache. “You don’t know what it means… hearing you say that.”

“I mean it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady thump of his heart. “I love you—all of you. The scars, the past, everything.” Your fingers traced the line where metal met flesh, and he shivered, a low sound in his throat as you pressed a soft kiss to the scarred tissue, your lips lingering, reverent.

He exhaled shakily, his hands—flesh and metal—finding your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, but there was no conviction in it, only wonder, and then he was kissing you again, slow and deep, his lips soft but urgent, like he was trying to memorise the taste of you. His hands slid under your hoodie—his hoodie, the navy one you’d claimed weeks ago—and he paused, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You nodded, lifting your arms, and he peeled the hoodie off, slow and deliberate, like he was unwrapping something sacred. The air was cool against your skin, your bra the only thing left, and his gaze was searing, drinking you in like you were a dream he was afraid to wake from. “Fuck,” he breathed, his hands hovering, trembling, before they settled on your shoulders, tracing the curve of your collarbone, the dip of your throat. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. I’ve imagined this so many times, but you’re… more.”

Your cheeks flushed, your body humming under his touch, and you reached for him, needing to feel him too. Your hands roamed his chest, mapping the planes of muscle, the faint scars from battles long past, the warmth of him that felt like home. You traced the line of his metal arm, marveling at the smooth, cool vibranium, and he watched you, his eyes dark with something like awe. “You don’t mind it?” he asked, voice low, almost hesitant, nodding toward the arm.

“No,” you said, firm, your fingers curling around the metal, feeling its strength, its weight. “It’s you. I love every part of you.” You pulled his metal hand to your lips, kissing the knuckles, and he groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said, but his voice was thick with emotion, and he pulled you closer, his hands sliding down your sides, exploring every curve, every inch of skin like he was committing you to memory. He unhooked your bra with a flick of his fingers, letting it fall, and his breath caught, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you gasp. “So perfect,” he murmured, his lips following his hands, kissing the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking against your skin, teasing but reverent.

You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the contrast of warm flesh and cool metal under your palms. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need, and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, raw and unguarded.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, his hands stilling on your hips. “Anything, doll. I’ll give you anything.”

“You,” you said, your hands sliding to his face, framing his jaw, your thumbs brushing his stubble. “I want you. All of you.”

He groaned, kissing you again, his hands roaming lower, tracing the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your jeans, teasing but not yet undoing them. He was taking his time, savouring every touch, every gasp you let out, and you could feel his obsession, the way he worshipped every inch of you like you were a miracle. Your hands explored him too, sliding down his back, feeling the ripple of muscle, the faint scars, the way his body tensed under your touch.

He pulled you toward the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare skin. His dog tags dangled between you, cool against your chest, and you tugged at them, pulling him into another kiss, deep and slow, your tongues tangling as you pressed yourself closer. His hands roamed your back, one warm, one cool, and you shivered, the contrast driving you wild.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding to your thighs, squeezing gently, then up to your ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “Dreamed of touching you, feeling you like this.” His lips moved to your neck, kissing, nipping, a soft bite that made you moan, your hips rocking against him, feeling the hardness of him through his jeans.

“Bucky,” you gasped, your hands sliding to his chest, your fingers brushing his scars again, and he tensed, his breath hitching. You pulled back, meeting his eyes, seeing the flicker of insecurity there. “Hey,” you said softly, your hands framing his face. “These scars? They’re proof you survived. They’re proof you’re here, with me. And I love you for it.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes glistening, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands tightening on your hips. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, but you shook your head, kissing him softly, your lips lingering on his.

“You do,” you said, fierce, your hands sliding to his shoulders, tracing the scars again, kissing them, one by one, until he was trembling under your touch. “You’re everything, Bucky. Everything.”

He groaned, flipping you gently onto the bed, hovering over you, his dog tags brushing your skin as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire and love. “I’m never letting you go,” he said, his voice rough, and then he was kissing you again, his hands exploring every inch of you, slow and deliberate, like he was worshiping you, like he’d never get enough.

You reached up, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently to pull him closer. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And I want you, Bucky. Every part of you.” Your hands slid down his shoulders, tracing the scars where his metal arm met flesh, a reminder of his past, his survival, his strength. He shivered under your touch, his breath hitching, and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to the scarred tissue, your lips lingering as you murmured, “You’re perfect to me.”

He groaned, a sound that vibrated through you, and kissed you deeply, his tongue sweeping against yours, slow and deliberate, tasting of desperation and devotion. His hands roamed your sides, warm flesh and cool metal igniting every nerve, and you arched into him, needing more, needing him. He pulled back, his lips trailing down your jaw, your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point, the sting of his teeth making you gasp, your hips bucking against his.

“Need to taste you,” he rasped, his voice almost pleading, his hands moving to the button of your jeans. His eyes flicked to yours, asking permission, and you nodded, your breath shaky, your body already aching for him. He unbuttoned your jeans with deft fingers, sliding them down with your panties in one slow, deliberate motion, his hands grazing your thighs, your calves, as he bared you completely. You kicked the jeans aside, vulnerable under his gaze, but the way he looked at you—like you were a goddess, like he’d worship at your altar—made you feel powerful, desired, loved.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands settling on your thighs, spreading them gently as he knelt between your legs, his eyes drinking you in. “You’re… everything. So goddamn perfect.” His voice was reverent, his fingers trembling as they traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing, exploring, making you squirm. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your hipbone, then another, lower, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above your core, his breath warm and teasing. “Wanted to make you feel good, to show you how much you mean to me.”

“Bucky, please,” you whimpered, your hands fisting the sheets, your body already trembling with anticipation. Your inner voice was a whirlwind, marveling at the intensity of this moment, at the man before you who’d held your heart for years without you realising.

He didn’t make you wait. His tongue flicked out, a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds, and you cried out, your hips bucking as pleasure sparked through you. “Oh, god, Bucky,” you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as he groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of heat through your core. His tongue circled your clit, teasing, then flattening, licking with a reverence that made you feel cherished, worshipped. His metal hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady, while his flesh fingers traced your entrance, teasing but not yet entering, drawing out your need.

“You taste so good,” he murmured between licks, his voice muffled, raw with desire. “Sweet, perfect, mine.” He sucked gently on your clit, and you moaned, your body arching, your mind blanking as he lavished you with attention. His fingers finally slipped inside, one at first, then two, curling just right, finding that spot that made you see stars. He pumped them slowly, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and you felt the coil tightening, your body trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Bucky, I’m—” you started, but the words dissolved into a moan as he grazed his teeth softly over your clit, a hint of a bite that sent you spiraling. Your orgasm crashed over you, sudden and intense, your body shaking as you cried his name, your hands tugging his hair, grounding yourself in him. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working you through it, drawing out every shudder, every gasp, until you were oversensitive, trembling, pulling him up to kiss you.

You tasted yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your heart race, and you kissed him harder, your hands roaming his chest, his shoulders, needing to feel him. “Your turn,” you whispered, your voice husky, your fingers trailing down his abs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. You reached for his jeans, your hands fumbling with the button, and he chuckled, low and shaky, helping you push them down with his boxers, freeing him.

He was thick, hard, the sight of him making your mouth water, your core clenching with renewed desire. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, feeling the velvety heat of him, and he hissed, his hips bucking into your touch. “Fuck, doll,” he groaned, his head falling back, his hands gripping the sheets like he was holding himself back. You looked up at him, his eyes dark with need, his chest heaving, and felt a surge of power, knowing you could unravel him like this.

“I want to taste you,” you said, your voice firm, and his eyes widened, a mix of awe and desperation. “Let me, Bucky.” You pushed him gently, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he obeyed, his hands trembling as they settled on your shoulders. You knelt between his thighs, your hands spreading them wider, and he watched you, his breath ragged, his dog tags glinting against his chest.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a soft bite to his inner thigh, making him gasp, his hands tightening on your shoulders. “Jesus, doll,” he breathed, and you smiled, kissing the spot you’d bitten, then higher, your lips brushing the sensitive skin near his base.

“I want to,” you said, echoing your earlier words, and then you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the salt of him. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, his hands tangling in your hair, not pushing, just holding, like he needed the anchor. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, bobbing slowly, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. His thighs tensed under your hands, his breath coming in sharp pants, and you moaned around him, the vibration making him curse, his grip tightening.

“God, your mouth,” he gasped, his voice rough, his hips twitching like he was fighting not to thrust. “Feels so fucking good, doll.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the way he looked at you—like you were his everything—made your heart swell, your movements growing bolder. You took him as deep as you could, your tongue pressing against the underside, and he groaned your name, his hands trembling, his control fraying.

You pulled back, licking a slow stripe along his length, your hand pumping him as you kissed the tip, teasing, drawing it out. “I love you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against him, and he shuddered, his eyes glistening with something more than desire.

“I love you too,” he said, voice breaking, and you took him back into your mouth, working him faster now, your hand and lips in sync, determined to make him feel as good as he’d made you. His groans grew louder, his hips bucking slightly, and you felt him tense, his breath hitching. “Doll, I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained, but you didn’t pull back, wanting to give him this, to show him how much you wanted him.

He came with a groan, hot and sudden, spilling into your mouth, and you swallowed, your hands stroking him through it, drawing out his pleasure until he was shaking, pulling you up to kiss you. His kiss was desperate, messy, tasting of both of you, and he held you close, his hands roaming your back, your hips, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, his forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

You smiled, kissing him softly, your hands framing his face. “Good, because I’m not going anywhere.” Your body was still humming, your desire for him burning hotter, and you knew this was only the beginning, the storm outside a mere echo of the one you’d unleash together.

Bucky pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes dark and glistening, pupils blown wide with need but softened by something deeper—love, raw and unguarded. His dog tags dangled between you, brushing your chest, cool against the flush of your skin, and you reached up, tugging them gently, pulling him into another kiss, slow and deep, your tongues tangling as you savoured the taste of him, of us. He groaned into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in your core, and you pressed yourself closer, your thighs straddling his, feeling the hardness of him against you, still bare from the jeans you’d stripped away.

“God, doll,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost broken, as he kissed along your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I can’t believe you’re here, that you’re mine.” His hands slid down your sides, warm flesh and cool vibranium tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, like he was memorising every inch of you, worshipping you with every touch. His lips found your neck, nipping softly, a hint of teeth that made you gasp, your hips rocking instinctively, seeking friction.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice shaky with desire, your hands roaming his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, the faint scars, the warmth of him that felt like home. Your fingers brushed the jagged lines where his metal arm met his shoulder, and he tensed, just for a moment, his breath hitching. You paused, pulling back to meet his eyes, seeing the flicker of vulnerability there, the fear that his past, his scars, might still push you away. “You’re so beautiful,” you said, fierce and sure, your hands framing his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

He exhaled shakily, his eyes glistening, and leaned into your touch, his metal hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was soft but searing, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion, and you smiled, kissing him deeper, your hands sliding to his shoulders, tracing the scars again, grounding him in your love.

“I love you,” you whispered, and he groaned, flipping you gently onto your back, the mattress dipping under his weight as he hovered over you, his dog tags brushing your skin. His hands roamed your body, slow and deliberate, one cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, making you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His lips followed, kissing the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking against your skin, teasing, reverent, before trailing lower, nipping at the sensitive skin just above your hipbone.

“Need to feel you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading, his hands settling on your thighs, spreading them gently. His fingers—flesh first—traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing, making you squirm, your body already aching for him. “Gonna take my time, doll,” he said, his eyes meeting yours, dark with promise. “Wanna make you feel so good you forget everything but me.”

Your breath hitched, your inner voice a whirlwind of love and desire. He’s here, he loves me, and he’s looking at me like I’m his whole world. The thought made your heart swell, your body humming with need, and you reached for him, your hands tangling in his hair. “Please, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling, and he smiled, soft but wicked, his fingers finally slipping between your thighs, brushing your folds, already slick from your earlier release.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, his voice rough, his fingers teasing your entrance, circling but not yet entering, drawing out your need. “All for me, doll?” His eyes flicked to yours, and you nodded, biting your lip, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more. He leaned down, kissing your thigh, his teeth grazing the skin, a soft bite that made you gasp, the sting blending with pleasure. Then his fingers—two, warm and sure—slipped inside you, slow and deliberate, curling just right, finding that spot that made you see stars.

“Oh, god,” you moaned, your hands fisting the sheets, your body arching as he pumped his fingers, slow at first, then faster, his thumb circling your clit in perfect rhythm. His metal hand gripped your hip, holding you steady, the cool vibranium a contrast to the heat of his touch, and you felt the coil tightening, your body trembling under his attention. He watched you, his eyes dark and intense, drinking in every gasp, every shudder, like he was committing it to memory.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. “So fucking beautiful, falling apart for me.” He leaned down, kissing your stomach, his lips soft but urgent, his fingers relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. “Come for me, doll,” he whispered, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, and you did, shattering beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, your body shaking as you cried his name, your hands reaching for him, needing him closer.

He worked you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing out every wave until you were trembling, oversensitive, your breath coming in sharp pants. He kissed his way up your body, his lips soft on your ribs, your breasts, your neck, until he reached your mouth, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You’re so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, his fingers slipping out, leaving you empty, aching for more.

“Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands sliding to his back, feeling the scars, the muscle, the warmth of him. “I need you—now.” Your hips rocked against him, feeling the hardness of him, and he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut, his control fraying.

“Gonna give you everything,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, as he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands guiding your legs around his waist. He teased you first, dragging the tip of himself through your folds, slick and warm, making you whimper, your body desperate for him. “You sure, doll?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his voice strained, like it was taking everything in him to hold back.

“Yes,” you said, fierce, your hands framing his face, pulling him into a kiss. “I’m sure. I love you.” Your words seemed to break something in him, and he pushed in, slow and deliberate, inch by inch, filling you, stretching you in a way that was perfect, overwhelming. You both groaned, your foreheads pressed together, his breath ragged as he stilled, letting you adjust, his hands gripping your hips like he was anchoring himself.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice breaking, his lips brushing yours. “So tight, so perfect, like you were made for me.” He started to move, slow and sensual, every thrust deep, deliberate, hitting that spot inside you that made you gasp, your nails digging into his back. His hands roamed your body, one cupping your breast, the other sliding to your thigh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Bucky,” you moaned, your hips meeting his, matching his rhythm, your body humming with pleasure. His lips found your neck, kissing, nipping, a soft bite that made you cry out, the sting blending with the heat building inside you. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his body—filling you, consuming you, and you wanted it all, wanted him in a way you’d never wanted anyone else.

“Love you,” he gasped, his thrusts growing faster, harder, the slow sensuality giving way to something raw, desperate. “Love you so much, doll.” His metal hand slid between you, fingers circling your clit, and you arched into him, your body trembling, the pleasure building to a crescendo. His other hand gripped your hip, hard enough to bruise, and you loved it, loved the way he held you like you were his, like he’d never let go.

“More,” you gasped, your hands sliding to his ass, pulling him deeper, and he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts rougher, the bed creaking beneath you. He bit your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but enough to make you moan, the sting sending you closer to the edge. His fingers on your clit were relentless, his thrusts primal, desperate, like he was pouring years of longing into every movement.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice rough, possessive, but there was love in it, a vulnerability that made your heart ache. “Say it, doll.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your body clenching around him, the pleasure overwhelming. “I’m yours, Bucky.” Your words seemed to push him over the edge, his thrusts erratic, his breath coming in sharp pants, his fingers circling faster, pushing you both toward release.

“Come with me,” he groaned, his lips crashing into yours, his kiss messy, desperate, and you did, shattering beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, your body shaking as you screamed his name. He followed, his body shuddering, his release hot and deep, his face buried in your neck as he gasped your name, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you’d slip away.

You held each other, trembling, the storm outside a distant hum as your breathing slowed. He didn’t pull out right away, staying close, his lips brushing your temple, your cheek, soft and reverent. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice raw, his eyes searching yours, and you nodded, your hands stroking his back, feeling the scars, the sweat, the warmth of him.

“Perfect,” you said, smiling, and he laughed, a soft, shaky sound, rolling you both so you were on top, still connected. You leaned down, kissing him slow, deep, tasting the salt of sweat and tears—yours, his, it didn’t matter. His hands traced your spine, gentle now, and you felt cherished, worshipped, loved in a way you’d never known.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his eyes soft, and you believed him, every word, every touch, every beat of his heart against yours.

By the time morning crept into Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment, soft gray light filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets. You woke slowly, your body heavy with a delicious ache, every muscle humming with the memory of last night—Bucky’s hands, his lips, his desperate, reverent love poured into every touch. He was still beside you, his arm draped across your waist, the cool vibranium a soothing contrast to the warmth of his bare chest pressed against your back. His breath was steady, soft against your neck, and for a moment, you just lay there, savouring the weight of him, the reality of us.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, but his arm tightened, pulling you closer with a low, sleepy murmur. “Where you goin’, doll?” His voice was rough with sleep, laced with that familiar warmth that made your heart flutter, and you smiled, turning in his arms to face him.

His eyes were half-open, blue and soft in the morning light, his hair a messy halo on the pillow. The dog tags rested against his chest, glinting faintly, and you reached out, tracing them with your fingers, feeling the engraved letters under your touch. “Nowhere,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Just… looking at you.”

He chuckled, low and lazy, his flesh hand sliding up your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. “Creep,” he teased, but his eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners, and you laughed, the sound light and free in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Guilty,” you said, leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow, your lips lingering against his. He hummed into the kiss, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and for a moment, it was just this—just you and him, tangled together, the world outside a distant hum. The kiss deepened, a spark of last night’s heat flickering, but you pulled back, grinning. “Careful, Barnes. You’re gonna start something we don’t have time for.”

“Who says we don’t have time?” he murmured, his voice low and playful, his metal hand sliding to your hip, squeezing gently. But his eyes softened, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips. “You okay? After… everything?”

You nodded, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “More than okay,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “Last night was… perfect. You were perfect.” You traced the scars where his metal arm met his shoulder, a habit now, and he didn’t tense like he used to, just watched you with a quiet intensity. “I love you, Bucky. I’m just… still wrapping my head around the fact that this is real.”

His expression faltered, just for a second, a shadow of doubt flickering in his eyes. “Real enough for you to stick around?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he was bracing for an answer he wasn’t sure he could handle. “I mean, you’ve got your life, your place… I don’t wanna hold you back, doll. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the way he still thought he might not be enough, even after last night, after you’d poured your love into every kiss, every touch. You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him fully, your hand framing his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Bucky, listen to me,” you said, fierce but gentle. “You’re not holding me back. You’re my home. I don’t want to go back to my place, not if it means leaving this—leaving us. I’m all in, okay? For you, for us, for whatever comes next.”

He stared at you, his eyes glistening, and for a moment, he didn’t speak, just swallowed hard, his hand tightening on your hip. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice rough, and you nodded, leaning down to kiss him, soft and sure, pouring your certainty into it.

“Every word,” you said, pulling back, your thumb brushing his cheekbone. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere unless you’re with me.”

He exhaled, a shaky, relieved sound, and pulled you into his arms, rolling you both so you were tucked against his chest, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your hair. “’Cause I don’t think I could let you go now, even if I tried.”

You laughed, the sound muffled against his skin, and nuzzled closer, relishing the warmth of him, the way his arms felt like the safest place in the world. “You’re stuck with me, Barnes,” you teased, and he chuckled, the vibration rumbling through you.

“Worst punishment I ever heard,” he shot back, but his voice was warm, playful, and you swatted his chest lightly, grinning.

You lay there for a while, tangled together, the drizzle outside a soft backdrop to the quiet intimacy. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, and you let your hand wander his chest, feeling the scars, the steady rise and fall of his breath. The weight of last night—of your confessions, your fight, the way you’d finally given in to years of love—settled over you, not heavy but grounding, like a promise you both intended to keep.

“So,” you said eventually, your voice soft, playful, “what’s the plan now, super-soldier? You gonna keep cooking me pancakes every morning, or is that just a temporary-roommate perk?”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and rolled you onto your back, hovering over you with a grin that made your heart skip. “Pancakes are a lifetime deal, doll,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But I’m thinking we upgrade from roommates to… something else. What do you say? Wanna make this official?”

Your breath caught, not from surprise but from the joy that flooded you, the certainty that this was right, that he was your future. You reached up, tugging his dog tags to pull him closer, your lips brushing his. “Official sounds good,” you whispered, smiling. “Boyfriend has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Boyfriend,” he repeated, testing the word, his grin widening. “Yeah, I like that. Long as you’re my girl.”

“Always,” you said, and he kissed you, deep and slow, like he was sealing the promise. The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, until your stomach growled, loud and unromantic, and you both burst out laughing, the tension breaking in the best way.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Bucky said, rolling out of bed, and you couldn’t help but admire him—his broad shoulders, the way his muscles moved under his skin, the scars that told his story. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on, and caught you staring, smirking. “Keep looking at me like that, and breakfast is gonna have to wait.”

You grinned, sitting up, the sheet clutched to your chest. “Tempting, but I’m starving. You promised pancakes, Barnes. Don’t make me regret this whole boyfriend thing.”

He laughed, tossing you his navy hoodie—the one you’d claimed weeks ago—and you pulled it on, the familiar scent of cedar and Bucky wrapping around you like a hug. You followed him to the kitchen, barefoot, the hardwood cool under your feet, and leaned against the counter as he started pulling out ingredients, his movements easy, practiced.

The morning unfolded like a dream—Bucky flipping pancakes with that super-soldier precision, you stealing bites of batter and teasing him about his “grumpy cat face” when he pretended to scold you. You sat at the counter, knees brushing, trading stories about nothing and everything—memories of your friendship, plans for a real date, the quiet hope of a future together. He reached over at one point, brushing a smear of syrup from your lip with his thumb, and the simple touch sent a spark through you, a reminder of last night, of the love that had finally broken free.

“So,” he said, setting his fork down, his eyes soft but serious, “you really wanna stay here? Not just crash, I mean… move in, make this our place?”

You paused, your heart swelling at the question, the way he said our like it was a prayer. “Yeah,” you said, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I want that. This feels like home, Bucky. You feel like home.”

He smiled, a rare, unguarded smile that lit up his face, and pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your temple. “Then it’s yours,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll make it ours.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in weeks, the ache of your breakup, the doubts Josh had planted, felt like a distant memory. With Bucky, you were whole, loved, and ready for whatever came next—pancakes, late nights, fights, and all.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world @positivenergy @cherriesnmango @navs-bhat

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