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bananayuyu · 30 days ago

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Tell Me No {3}

Pairing: professor!Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, dark academia vibes

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: The semester is finally coming to an end, and the chance is upon you now to have Professor Jeong in every way. You wonder, what will the future hold?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

A/n: I hope y'all enjoy this last part <33

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Read it on ao3

"When are you coming home?"

Your Dad's voice is distant and distracted coming through the phone, as it always is. He hadn't called all semester, just texted every Friday at the same time to ask 'how is school?' You were sure his secretary had put it in his planner, probably even sent the texts herself. He never texted further; you weren't even sure if he read your responses. Which was fine. You always said the same thing. 'Fine'.

You'd just completed your last exam of finals week, day two of Professor Jeong's final, the short story portion. You didn't think you'd written something as unique or atmospheric as you had during your trial run at his house, but it was adequate, you were quite sure. And with good grades on your three papers, you were sure at least a passing grade was coming your way.

When you'd set the completed story on his desk, Professor Jeong's eyes sharply locked onto yours, before he went back to reading his book, trying to ignore you. You had walked in wearing the puffer jacket he'd given you a few days before, that last evening spent together before he told you no more, that you must focus on your finals ahead and not think of him at all. You wouldn't be able to do that. You'd forgotten to wear a jacket when you made your way to his place that day for the same reason; your mind too full of your lust for him to remember how frigidly cold it was. Making it through the week of exams with your focus elsewhere was an unbelievable challenge.

There was something about seeing you in his clothes that had his pants feeling tighter in an instant. Out in the world, no one knew that the oversized black coat was his, but he did, and in his own way it felt like he'd staked his claim, knowing that as you wore it you felt the same, that you belonged to him, that there was no one else in the world you'd rather steal a jacket from.

It made his heart skip, like he was a shy, nervous teenager. Mine, he thought. Another few hours and you'd no longer be his student. He'd let himself have you, in the way he'd wanted to all along. It was tortuous watching you walk out the door of his classroom, knowing he'd have to wait around to answer questions, clean up and lock his classroom for winter break, and check in with his fellow teacher Professor Song before meeting you.

When you walked into the hallway, you opened your phone to find a text from your Dad. It was Friday, and his text came through predictably as it always did, late in the afternoon. His name on your screen made you roll your eyes, but this time you decided to actually answer him. Maybe it would twist the knife in a little more to know you were actually doing quite well. 'Good, just finished my last final,' you typed. Then, to your absolute surprise, he called you.

"You pass them all?" he asked without greeting you, his voice distant and thin, the sounds of his office wafting through in the background.

"I don't know yet, the professors have a week before final grades are due," you said, trying to keep your voice down in the desolate hall, knowing multiple finals were still ongoing in classrooms surrounding you. The walls of this old building were thankfully thick and impenetrable, but it would be your worst nightmare to get in trouble for disrupting another class's exam.

"When are you coming home?"

"I don't know yet," you finally answered him, with a deep sigh. Why did he care? He hardly ever asked you anything about your plans.

"Well I'm going to be in Singapore for business until the twenty-second, I leave tomorrow. And the house was in desperate need of a new paint job, so whole place is going to be in complete chaos until the day I return. If the workers finish as fast as they say they will, we'll see," he says, pausing. "One minute, Mr. Kang," he calls, much louder. Then, to you again, "I wouldn't come until then, unless you want to hang out in the guest house with your cousin."

The thought makes your face crinkle. Your cousin Jake was everything one would expect of a kid who grew up filthy rich: a partier, shit-stirrer, and uncommitted to anything. He was living in your Dad's guest house now because his parents had finally cut him off, and you remember the day he moved in vividly, watching through the window as your Dad slapped him on the back and laughed jovially, the pair two peas in a pod.

You knew he would offer the stupid boy a place in his company soon. Yet another reason you were determined to avoid the same fate for yourself.

"I'll just stay here then," you answered.

"The dorms will be empty though, is it safe?" he asked, and you scoffed. He only pretended to care about your safety when he was trying to control your next move, and you wondered what it was this time that he would try to force upon you.

"I think I'll stay with a friend," you said, sighing.

"A friend? Who, Sana? Jihyo?" he asked, mentioning the only friends of yours he knew by name. You supposed he might think these two were your only friends here at college, and that was by design; they were the only girls you befriended who came from money like you did, and you knew he wouldn't approve of all of the other amazing people who'd graced your life, who'd helped you gain perspective and a better understanding of your place in the world. Your Dad didn't give a shit about that.

"No, it's a new friend I made this semester," you said.

"Don't you dare go stay with a boy, I can't have you getting pregnant and running to me to fix the situation," he chided. "If you come with me to Singapore you can see more of the business, meet a good friend of mine, it would be much better for you."

"I'm not going with you," you laughed, shaking your head at his continued attempts to pull you into his world. "I'm staying here, and I'll see you at Christmas."

With that final statement you hang up the phone, setting it on the bench beside you and sighing into your hands. You pull your knees up and curl into a ball, finally taking a moment. Finals were done. You had done it, you'd survived. You almost couldn't believe it, the last week passing with such exhaustion and your mind full of concrete, it seemed. It was like you'd worked your brain so hard it was turning to stone.

Now that it was all over, the fatigue was hitting you. You yawned, resting your head on your knees. You hadn't planned what you would do after your exam today, having been so focused on just getting yourself through it to think beyond. You feel yourself nearly drifting off, your eyeslids heavy. A quick nap couldn't hurt, you think. You'd seen other students doing this too, and were sure the bustle of students finally leaving their exams would wake you. You sat your bag on the bench beside you and laid your head on it, pulling Professor Jeong's jacket over you like a blanket.

When you wake, the hallway is as empty and silent as you'd left it, but somehow the building feels colder, and completely still. You feel a slight wet spot beneath your cheek, and much to your dismay realize you'd been drooling. Quickly you sit up and wipe at your face, before hearing the jangling of keys coming from down the hall. Two men exit the room by the front door, standing in hushed conversation in front of it. You look over your shoulder through the window behind, and see a line of students meandering towards the dorms and dining hall, others walking in the direction of the train station. The building is empty, you suddenly realize, and you'd completely slept through the end of exams. You snap your head back to the professors, watching them make for the front door to leave.

"Wait!" you call out, the pair turning their heads in unison. Now you see, one has rich black hair and those devilish eyes you love. The other is just as tall as Professor Jeong, but with lighter hair, and glasses.

"You alright?" the other man calls to you, stopping in his tracks.

"I fell asleep, I'm sorry," you call, grabbing for your bag, then realizing you need to put your jacket on first and setting it down again.

"You go ahead Mr. Song, I know the Dean's expecting you. I'll help her," Professor Jeong says to the other man, and in a moment the front door opens and closes, and you're alone in this huge hall with this perfect man, his long strides bringing him to you quickly.

"I thought I told you to just meet me at my house," he says as he nears you.

"I know, I just was so exhausted, I didn't mean to fall asleep for so long. All the exams are over, right?" you ask.

"Yes, I'm glad you called out to us, we were about to lock up the building for the winter."

Your eyes are wide with fear and shock when you look to him, making him chuckle. "It's okay, the Janitor is scheduled to come through tomorrow, so you wouldn't have starved to death." You playfully punch at his arm in shock, shaking your head. Your life here really did feel strange sometimes. You sighed and looked up at him, wishing you could kiss him now and leave all of this behind. But there was still a window, still all of campus to contend with.

"Listen, we have to go out the front door today so I can lock up, so you just head to the station and meet me at my place. Here's money for your ticket," he says, pulling out his wallet and setting it in your hand.

"I just wanna go with you," you say as you stand, starting to walk out with him.

"I know darling, me too," he sighs, pulling you against a corner of the hall by the front doors where there were no windows, and kissing you hard against the wall.

"Just another hour and we can be together in private," he sighs, moving his lips to your ear, your throat, your collar bone. You moan and push him off, shooting daggers with your eyes.

"Stop teasing me," you pout, but you're loving every minute of it, loving that he couldn't even make it out of this hallway without kissing and touching you.

Outside the wind is blowing, the grass on the lawns close to dead, the sky half covered in winter clouds. Without another glance in his direction you make for the train station, hoards of other students doing the same, suitcases and duffel bags in hand. You zip your jacket high up to your neck, pulling the hood over your ears to keep the freezing wind from bruising them. It hits you suddenly that you'll never be his student again, that you'll never be sat in his class daydreaming about the professor in front of you instead of actually listening to his words.

"One ticket to Forthsmith station please," you tell the man at the ticket booth, handing over your dollar.

It's a bit disappointing to know that cozy classroom will never be your classroom again. The making eyes at each other, the stolen glances and brief touches, the way it all felt so wrong and so right. Things would be so different going forward, there was no question.

But as much as you dreaded the change, there was relief in it too. You were pretty sure now things could escalate further, that he'd finally have you all the way. And maybe beyond college, if you were careful enough with him and he with you, you'd find a companion for the long journey called life.

"You heading home too?" Marcus's piercing voice cuts through your daydreaming, bringing you right back to the crowded, stuffy platform you're standing on.

"No, heading to a friend's house," you sigh softly, while he makes his way to stand right next to you, suitcase in hand.

"Were you able to finish your story?" he asks, turning to look at you, but you don't meet his gaze. As much as you'd stopped hating him, you were sort of thankful you wouldn't have to see him anymore, either. You were on different degree paths, only overlapping for this one class. It wasn't sad to think you wouldn't be hearing this voice ever again.

"Yeah, did you?" you ask sharply.

"Barely, just as prof said we were out of time," he says. You look to your right and finally spot your professor, who makes his way in your direction. "I'm sure it was good enough to pass, and if that asshole fails me I'll just have my dad take it up with the Dean."

You hear a soft chuckle behind you, and with a quick glance see the man he's just called an asshole, biting his lip to trying to stop smirking.

"I think he overheard you," you say to Marcus. His face shoots over his shoulder now too, and his eyes go wide at seeing Professor Jeong's face.

"Sir- I- I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine, I grade based on principal, not on how much I like my students," he sighs, shooting a quick look your way. You chuckle, knowing his distain for your classmate. It was one you shared, you supposed. Both glad to be done with him.

But more than anything, both glad to have time to yourselves.

You sit apart on the train, the car packed the whole way to his station, many students heading the full two-hour ride up north to the neighboring city they were from. Few get off at his station, and you're so happy for it, realizing how much the privacy and calm of his neighborhood mean to you. Campus was fun in it's own ways, and you appreciated being so close to so many things, but out just a ways in this tucked away street, you felt completely safe to just be you.

With him, you could just be. It had been that way since the first night, that night when you'd worried and fretted as you walked in his house, that night when your lust overcame you and sent you down a path that now stretched far ahead. The landscape of your love was filled with gorgeous forests and rainy days, with the softness of snow and the warmth of fire. You never wanted to leave this cozy nook, his arms around you, nose in your hair, body strong and warm beneath you.

As soon as you'd arrived, you'd both changed clothes, and for the first time you saw him in grey sweatpants and a baggy hoodie, looking cozier and softer than ever before. You borrowed a hoodie and a pair of shorts; they reached down to your shins, looking almost like pants. With a pair of thick long socks on too, you looked ridiculous, like a twelve year old boy in his dad's clothing. But it was comfortable, and that was what mattered. You laid down on his couch, cuddling in the warmth of the fire, sighing into each other.

"Semester's finally over," he says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'm so nervous for my grades," you respond, sighing.

"You shouldn't be, I know you've worked very hard. Your short story was marvelous."

"You read it already?"

"While the other students were finishing theirs," he says, smiling into you.

"You liked it?" you ask.

"Of course I did, you're quite the little genius," he praises, making your body ache with need. "Do you wanna hear just how much I loved it?"

You giggle into his chest, knowing that he knows just what this does to you, how much it turns you on.

"Yes," you whisper, heat springing in your cheeks, your entire body flushing.

"You set the tone perfectly, you have a way with doing that. The first sentence immediately grabbed me, because it was exactly what I was expecting until the last word. And I had been expecting another gothic or horror story from you, because of your last two, but you went with fantasy instead. It shows me you have such range, you can manipulate words beautifully no matter where they're coming from, or where they're headed..."

His words are going straight to your cunt, your head fuzzy. How could you possibly so lucky to find someone who knew you so well? Who said all the right things, was sweet enough but rough enough too, was balanced and inspiring, setting you in the right direction. He was a mentor to you, not just the man you lusted after; he was keeping you on track, making sure you'd have the confidence you needed to finish your degree and go succeed in the real world.

"You're perfect," you mumble, completely relaxed.

"No, that's you," he says, kissing your forehead again, wrapping his hands all the way around you and pulling you directly on top of him, squeezing you tightly. You giggle at the sensation, lifting your head up to place a quick kiss on his plump lips, but soon it's more, soon your knees are pulled up on either side of him and your tongue is finding his, soon you've forgotten where and who you are, completely lost in him.

He sits up and lifts you, the kiss only breaking for a moment as he starts walking down the hall. He slowly pushes open a door you've never been inside, the hinges creaking slightly, and then he breaks the kiss again to turn on a lamp in the corner, finally illuminating the space. You look to your side to see his bed, his reading corner, the stack of books on his nightstand. You're finally in his room, finally seeing the space he spends every night, and you hope one day it's as familiar to you as it is to him, that you can call it your home, too.

He lays you down gently, holding you with tender care as he kisses you more, your mouths wrapped in a perfect dance, licking and biting in perfect rhythm; just weeks in and you already know everything, how to mold to him, how to be the perfect reflection of his every movement. It feels like angels are singing as he deepens the kiss, as he swipes his tongue over yours harshly, as he grabs onto your ass and leaves your skin red from the strength of it. He snakes his hands under the hoodie you're wearing and feels over your chest too, loving how you moan in his mouth at the slightest touch of your nipple, how they pebble instantly in his hands. His mouth moves to your neck as he reaches under your waist and almost devours you, letting your soft moans escape into the buzzing air of the room, letting them drift into his ears and make his cock hard.

Satisfied with how you're writhing beneath him, he finally sits back, tugging at the waist of your shorts to pull them down and off, then diving into the hot wet spot between your legs, lapping up the arousal already leaking from you. He makes quick work of you, already knowing how you like it, what makes your legs shake and your mouth hang open. He doesn't finger you though, knowing what's about to come and wanting you to wait for the shock of the feeling. He knows he's big, and has no idea what your experience is, but is sure the look on your face will be priceless when you finally feel him stretching you from within.

Your thighs are clenching around his head as he licks slow circles over your clit, and you're tipping over the edge so quickly, still unsure how he can do it so easily, how he's already figured you out. He comes up for air looking deliciously disheveled, and you reach out your arms, beckoning him to you. The taste of you on his lips is intoxicating, musky and heady and the tiniest bit sweet, and you're grasping at him underneath his hoodie, relishing the feeling of his skin, needing more of it. Soon you're pulling at it, and he relents his kissing to allow you to take it off, his muscular torso greeting you, pale skin almost yellow in the soft light of his room. He then pulls at your hoodie too, and soon you're in nothing but your socks, and he is too, and you can see his long cock is hard and flushed at the tip, making your mouth water with need.

You'd only ever felt it through his pants, and now feeling it in your hand is electrifying, how heavy and hot it is, how utterly perfect. He hisses at the feeling, your hand cold against him, sending shockwaves of pleasure through him, his pent up need finally showing itself. He'd lied to himself all semester, pretending he didn't think anything of you; it was wrong to lust after a student, of course it was, but it was something he couldn't help. He'd begun to think you'd never talk to him, that you didn't have even the slightest bit of interest back; after that first night in his office he'd been waiting to do this, to finally feel every part of you, to be locked together in this most perfect way.

He sinks into you slowly, holding the base of his shaft as he does, trying to be careful. He can see already, only halfway down, that you're having trouble taking him; your head falls back with your eyebrows knitted together, as if in pain. But you beg him to go on, to give you everything, and there's no way he can say no to that. With effort he finally sheaths himself, leaning down into you to just hold you, letting your cunt take its time adjusting. With soft kisses and praise he distracts you, and soon you're not feeling any pain, only the perfect sensation of being completely filled, his cock touching every part of you inside.

"Please move," you whisper, pulling on his hair and kissing him deeply, as he chuckles.

"Of course, angel," he smiles into you, slowly pulling out, and pushing back in even slower, dragging out the immense pleasure. You're both groaning messes, completely entranced by the feelings it's bringing, so intense, so sweet, so deep and sating. It's hard to believe you are here, experiencing this; you're coming around him so quickly, shaking and holding onto him as you moan, his arms around your waist again as you arch into him. Again he's reading you so easily, knowing exactly how to make you feel best, even though you've never done this together, before; it's a feeling you want to capture and bottle, so you can bathe in it whenever you need a reminder of just how wonderful life can be.

You quickly come again, slick gushing out of you with force, covering his sheets in wetness. His pace picks up in reaction, and soon his moans are growing too, his movements more erratic, until he's releasing inside you with a low 'fuck,' his warmth filling you. The sensation is delectable, another you wish to know over and over again. His body collapses on top of you and you wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, squeezing tight as you kiss and hold each other, the minutes passing by with ease.

This bed was now familiar to you. And the smell of his skin was, too.

"Can I ask you something?"

It's you who finally breaks the silence, running a hand through his hair.

"Hm?" he responds, lifting you both up to a sitting position, wrapped around each other still as you lean against his headboard.

"I can't go home until the 22nd," you start, "can- can I stay here with you?"

"Of course darling, I'd love that," he says, kissing your cheek. "I will be very busy with grading over the next week, so it might be quite boring for you."

"With your library, I could never be bored," you say, and a huge smile breaks out on his face, his bottom lip catching in his teeth a moment.

"God, you're wonderful," he sighs, tipping your face up to meet his, kissing you deeply.

"I wanna be with you," you say, breaking the kiss, looking into his eyes deeply, knowingly. You couldn't hold it in any longer; it was true, it was all that you could think of, and you needed him to know. It was serious for you, the feelings you were having. It was too early to call them what they were, but you were sure that four letter word described them perfectly.

"I wanna be with you too," he smiles, pulling you into a warm, caring hug. He's still inside you, your bodies still locked together. It was too perfect of a feeling to not savor to the bitter end. That was how he felt with you, in ever way; he wasn't sure how long you'd be there, but as long as you were in his life, he'd savor every minute.

{the end}

Taglist: @iamalily @atzri @marii1087 @dilfkimhjj @yunyuniverse @yourfavoritedeluluspot @wizorbit99 @yeottoks @ateezgurl @hanjiyunho

thank you for reading my work, my loves <33333

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #yunho smut #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #ateez #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #jeong yunho smut

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rottenherbs · 22 days ago

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Fred Weasley .·:¨༺༻¨:·. George Weasley [Rottenherbs Masterlist₊⊹]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ [HP masterlist] ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Fred Weasley

Opposites Attract (✿ you and Fred have always caught each others eyes over the years but have never spoken. It isn't until you catch him trying to sneak into the kitchen // 1.5k // Hufflepuff! reader, Fluff) Slumber (✿ Cuddling with Fred // a short sweet little imagine of a weekend morning! Fred before a game // 325 // fluff) Just A Squib (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10)(pt.11) (✿ You're Harrys older sister, but born a squib. Your relationship with Fred bloomed over the years until one fateful night you had to have your memories removed. Could you love a stranger? // Angst !!) — continuing series — Hopeless crush! HC's (✿ Fred madly in love with you! Headcanons) Sure Thing (✿ rivals-to-lovers story that fits the vibe of the song “Sure Thing” by Miguel // 1.3k // enemies to lovers, pining) Lover (✿ Yule ball love // 3.2k // Fic based on Taylor Swifts song Lover, Ravenclaw! Reader!) Matchmaker (pt.2) (✿ Being the schools matchmaker soon became inronic after all the couples you paired seemed to flourish, but your own love life dwindled in pity as each day passed // 2k // ) NYE Headcanon (✿ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) Secret relationship! HC’s (✿ Having a secret relationship with Fred) Something Batty (✿ You had gotten to your wits end over the winter break. No more homework to get ahead on, no more hobbies that filled your satisfaction. It was you and the empty castle. Could you attempt to write down and locate all the hidden passageways and paintings on the walls? The castle was big, but your desire for an adventure was bigger // 3.4k // Fluff) Time For Me? (✿ Fred is jealous is over your several hobbies and tries you pull you away for some alone time // 605 // Fluff) Off The Pitch (pt.2) (pt.3) (✿ The final quidditch match, a long-term friendship, and a confession. what else could you need? // Potter! reader, Fluff) Love Within the Forest (pt.2) (✿ A rule-following Ravenclaw finds herself swept up in Fred Weasley’s spontaneous adventure into the Forbidden Forest, where laughter, rain, and a little hand-holding lead to something unexpectedly magical // Fluff) Cant help It (✿ A long awaited confession sparked by an old time muggle song // 1.3k // Fluff) Ripe (✿ You and Fred Weasley have always been close—just friends, just laughter, just stolen time away from chaos. But lately, the quiet places you sneak off to don’t feel so quiet anymore. They feel full—of glances, of thoughts unsaid, of something like love blooming slow and soft like summer fruit // 1.2k // Fluff)

George Weasley

Stolen Sweater and Stolen Heart (☁ Slytherin! Reader wearing Georges clothes for the first time // 850 // Fluff) Inebriated! G.W HeadCannons (☁ Drunk! George and his party queen) Trouble Maker (☁ George tries to convince you to be a part of a prank. What was in it for you? // 377 // Fluff) A Weasley Holiday (pt.2) (pt.3 ((nsfw)) (☁ Your first time spending the holidays at the burrow) Lost to family ( ☁ Your family runs a longline of Death Eaters, yet you've found your love for wizard kind in other ways // 1.8k // Angst ) NYE Headcanon (☁ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) Saint Like (☁ Molly never was a fan of you -- until one fateful night George comes back injured // 2.2k // Angst, fluff, rude! Molly) Smoking Hot (☁ stoner George and y/n sneaking around the castle to smoke // 2.2k // dr0g mention) Frequent Flyer (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (☁ Reader is a nurse at the Hogwarts infirmary and has a crush on George, after all he's always there after his Quidditch games needing to be tended to // 1.9k // George approx. 7th year - 17-18 y/o. Reader is a learning healer, approx. 18 years old // first year out of beauxbaton and interning at Hogwarts) Oblivious to everything but the fight (☁ Amid the chaos of Umbridge’s rule and the looming war, you’re too exhausted and focused on helping Dumbledore’s Army to notice that your best friend, George Weasley, has been in love with you all along // 1.7k // Fluff, Pining) Ink-Stained Mischief (☁ You’re a Ravenclaw student who works in the library after hours, helping Madam Pince restore damaged books and organize restricted section materials. You’re known for your quiet nature, your sharp tongue when provoked, and your ink-stained fingertips. George Weasley is, predictably, a frequent library nuisance—sneaking in after hours for pranks, secret D.A. meetings, or to charm the books into doing anything but behave // 3.7k // Enemies to lovers) Emerald and Ember (☁ After a year of secretly dating, Slytherin Y/N and George Weasley decide to go public by attending the Yule Ball together, defying house rivalry and school gossip. Amidst whispers and stares, their love proves stronger than judgment, shining openly for the first time beneath enchanted snowfall. // 1.6k // Fluff) Enemy of an Enemy (☁ A guarded Slytherin student reluctantly joins Dumbledore’s Army, only to find herself drawn to George Weasley // 3.1k // slow burn) Wrong Place, Right Idiot (☁ After embarrassing her in front of the school, George Weasley tries to win back a grumpy Ravenclaw’s trust by putting real effort into their Charms project. // 1.5k // slight angst, grumpy reader, slow burn)

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sofiascripts · 9 months ago

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love in recovery!: the unmanliest of pairs ✧˖° ༯

༉‧₊˚. part two to love in recovery ✧˚ · . bakugou cant stop thinking about you, he reflects on your moments together during the last few weeks and decides hes gotta see you! one problem though, schools are out of session for winter break and he has no idea where to find you. thankfully theres midoriya!

✎ wc: 7946

⤑ tw: not proofread, cursing, also i ended up taking the love at first site route with this so it might be ooc bakugou… </3 or maybe its very in character bc ur just that awesome he couldnt help himself really (it gets pretty ooc at the end, i was struggling but i NEEDED it to end that way so his usual demeanor had to disappear for a sec.)

bakugou was in what he believed was a state of despair. his mind, usually consumed with concerns about hero work and his so-called “publicity problems,” had recently become fixated on something entirely different: you.

it all began when bakugou was enlisted to help out during finals week at his old high school. the hero course students were gearing up for a practical exam against pro heroes. he remembered his own practical exams, which were conducted by his old teachers. this time, however, the school decided to mix things up by bringing in younger, fresher heroes. the idea was to inspire the students and give them a chance to work with their idols, pros they don't get to see on a daily basis. additionally, it provided a great opportunity to boost the young pros' hero rankings–

and it was a nice tax break for the agencies involved.

“itll be nice to roam those familiar halls, and visit our old teachers and our classrooms, where our forgotten youth still lingers.” tokoyami remarked, his voice heavy with a wistful undertone. they all exchange uneasy glances before kirishima placed a comforting hand on tokoyamis shoulder and cleared his throat.

“yeah something like that man– heard midoriya talking about a few new heroes joining in,” kirishima added shifting the focus.

“yeah! heard recovery girl finally retired. the new one’s apparently a cutie,” kaminari said leaning back into his seat with a wide grin.

“she is! izukus invited her a couple times when we met up with our old group,” uraraka said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “she’s got this really warm, friendly vibe. every time ive worked with her, she’s been so caring and attentive. it’s clear she really loves what she does”

“yep! she’s healed me once! she really knows her stuff–her quirk is impressive, shes also got this reassuring presence that makes you feel better just being around her,” tsuyu added with a smile.

“who cares about that kind of crap?” bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes. “didnt meet up to talk about some new nurse. what i want to know is what kind of target practice we’re dealing with for the next two weeks."

the group let out a unified sigh as the conversation shifted back to their work. they shared notes from the recent sports festivals and began detailing the students they’d be testing, outlining the quirks and abilities to expect. each pro hero reviewed the information attentively, mentally preparing for the demanding two weeks ahead.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

on the first day of finals, the six pros entered the building, the familiar halls of u.a. stirring memories of their own time as students. the air was thick with anticipation, a mixture of nerves and nostalgia that tugged at their senses. aizawa met them at the entrance, his usual tired expression softened slightly as he acknowledged his former students with a curt nod.

“you’re cutting it close,”aizawa murmured, gesturing for them to follow him. “the students are already in the testing site, so we need to head there immediately”

“apologies, mr. aizawa," tokoyami added, his tone somber. "i feared glimpsing the shadows of our past selves, the echoes we once cast.” his words left the group staring at him awkwardly.

��he missed the bus,” kirishima clarified with a shake of his head. aizawa nodded, already familiar with tokoyamis, interesting demeanor. there was no time for pleasantries or catching up with their old teachers, as they were already running a bit late. the group moved swiftly through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the school.

as they rounded a corner, they passed by the infirmary. the door was slightly ajar, and midoriya was leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. he was engaged in conversation with someone inside, his voice carrying a tone of lighthearted teasing that caught their attention.

“yeah, well, let’s hope we don’t run into each other too much today. if the students stay injury-free, you might actually get a chance to relax!” midoriya’s smile was bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke.

bakugou barely registered midoriya’s words, his attention immediately caught by the soft, warm laugh that followed.

“god, i wish,” you replied with a playful sigh, amusement lacing your voice. “but if these kids are anything like aizawa described you, i’ll probably end up needing help myself.”

as the group walked by, bakugou’s eyes were already peering in, there you were standing in the infirmary, leaning against a counter with a white coat draped over your frame. the crisp, clean fabric paired nicely with the light color of your sundress which fell loosely around you. your arms were crossed casually, and the cheeky grin on your face sent an unexplainable jolt through him.

for a brief moment, bakugou’s mind scrambled for an explanation—had one of these brats used their quirk on him? his palms grew damp, a slight prickling sensation tingling beneath his skin, but he quickly dismissed it, convincing himself it was just the heat of the building, the stress of the upcoming practicals. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it.

your eyes briefly met his as they walked past, and the world seemed to snap back into focus. he scowled, turning his gaze back to the path ahead, but the image of you lingered in his mind, seared into his thoughts like a stubborn ember refusing to die out.

“damn brats,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, as they continued on their way to the testing site. but his usual biting tone lacked its usual conviction, the warmth of your laugh still echoing in his ears, a sound that somehow felt both familiar and entirely new.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

at the end of the day, bakugou found himself walking down a very familiar hallway, telling himself it was only because this was the way he’d come in. why wouldn’t he leave the same way? his idiot friends were probably lost, trying to find their way out of the school from the testing site, so it only made sense to take this route.

right?

as he continued down towards the front entrance of the school, he just so happened to pass the infirmary.

he noticed two students exiting the room. one of them had a faint blush on his cheeks—probably a reaction to your quirk. bakugou’s mind flashed back to his first time being healed by recovery girl. even though she was an old lady, the awkwardness of the whole process still made him flush with embarrassment. he couldn't imagine how much worse it wouldve been if the healer had been someone like you someone younger.

just then, he remembered the scratch—no, more like a faint slash—on the right side of his forehead.

might as well get checked out while he was here, he reasoned. hed be cursing himself if that damn wound messed with his performance during his shift later. plus, if he was going to be dealing with more students tomorrow, he needed to be at his best.

with that excuse firmly in mind, bakugou took a deep breath and headed towards the infirmary, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened, though he figured it was just the tightness of the quirk nullifying bands around his wrists. it couldnt have anything to do with you.

he stepped in quietly, noticing how you were engrossed in paperwork, likely documenting all the students you’d treated that day. the room was filled with the soft rustling of papers, and the sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. bakugou stood at the doorframe for a moment, feeling like an idiot the longer he stood there. despite his intense glare, you seemed completely oblivious to his presence.

with an irritated huff, bakugou strode over to one of the infirmary beds and dropped himself onto it, the springs creaking under his weight. the sudden noise finally jolted you out of your focus. your eyes snapped up, widening in surprise, and bakugou smirked to himself when he saw your hand tighten around your pen, like you were ready to use it as a weapon against whoever dared to intrude.

“got hit,” he stated flatly, pointing at the cut on his forehead.

you raised an eyebrow, “oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes filled with a playful glint.

from you, his usual scowl deepening. “second, they made me go easy on those brats. ‘course they landed a hit. not like they could keep up with me.” he said, mimicking the instructors’ voices with exaggerated annoyance. “‘told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.”

he grumbled, still irked by the memory. he couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at him. he was totally against going easy on them; he knew firsthand that failure was crucial for getting stronger. it wasn’t about being a jerk—it was about giving them the chance to face their weaknesses and improve. he was pissed off that they were missing out on that important lesson. but he also knew that if he defied the rules, it would only make things worse for everyone. so, as much as it grated on him, he followed the damn rules.

as he watched you move closer to him, he noticed you were trying to hold back a smile, he also saw the glint of amusement in your eyes, which made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. while you inspected his forehead, he felt an odd vulnerability.

he felt your gaze scan his entire body, a mix of frustration and discomfort bubbling beneath the surface as your closeness stirred unsettling feelings. a strong heat rose at the back of his neck, and he tried to distract himself by focusing on the wall behind you. when your eyes finally landed on his wrists, you picked up one of his hands and examined it with even greater intensity. your shocked expression was unmistakable, and it was clear you couldn’t hide it.

“they slapped these on too,” he grumbled, gesturing to the heavy weights strapped to his ankles. he couldn't stop himself from trying to show off a little bit more, “said it was to ‘even the playing field.’ whatever that means.”

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. “they really didn’t want you going all out, huh?” you murmured, your tone both curious and sympathetic.

he huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me.”

he pointed to the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head trying to hint that he was expecting something. he remembered the conversation with his friends when they were going over the students quirks, someone had mentioned that you were like recovery girl or something, using a quirk that required a kiss to heal. he didn’t get why you had to be so soft about it, but he also didn’t want to look like a complete idiot and ask for it directly.

“what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.”

you stared at him with an odd look on your face. after a moment of silence, you muttered a quiet, “right,” before your lips brushed lightly against the cut on his wrist. the warmth of your touch was unexpectedly soothing, sending a strange flutter through his chest that he quickly shoved aside.

“all set!” you said softly, moving over to your desk to busy yourself with paperwork. he glanced at the mirror, checking the spot where the cut had been. satisfied, he started to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, irritation mingling with curiosity.

“oh, nothing,” you replied, “just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it’s hard to imagine.”

he grunted in response, feeling a rare twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. it was an unfamiliar sensation, and he didn’t know how to process it, which seemed to be a recurring theme in this room.

“don’t get used to it,” he warned, “next time, those brats won’t know what hit ‘em.”

you rolled your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. “try not to get hit again, dynamite,” you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. “don’t hold your breath.”

bakugou made his way down the halls toward the front of the building, a strange shift occurring within him as he thought about the odd sensations he’d experienced in your room. he’d always prided himself on being the toughest, most unbeatable guy around—someone who didn’t need anyone’s sympathy or affection. he certainly didn’t care for any of that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff.

but after you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and let out that soft laugh—just like the one he’d heard earlier, but this one had been for him—he felt an unfamiliar warmth. your playful teasing, the way your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze, and the gentle touch as you healed his cut all lingered in his mind. as he walked out the doors of ua, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might actually care about that ‘kind of crap.’

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

after that, he stopped by every day, always after the students were gone. he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about his frequent visits. he was only coming by because it was convenient and you were tolerable. plus, you just happened to be on his way out, so he figured he might as well check in to make sure you weren’t slacking off. with the kids getting roughed up more than usual because of him, it was his duty as a pro hero to ensure the school’s support staff could handle the extra strain.

they had reached the end of the week, marking the completion of the first half of finals. students would rest over the weekend to prepare, as next week the rest of the second-years and first-years would be taking their tests. after that, school would be out for winter break and the young pro-heros would get to go back to working full time.

today, he decided to check in and ensure the infirmary was fully stocked. it wouldn’t do for you to run out of supplies in the middle of finals. he couldn’t focus on his part if he knew the kids wouldn’t get the proper care they needed afterward. so he had to make sure you had everything you needed for the upcoming week.

he marched in with his usual scowl, pretending to inspect the shelves while you stared at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “do you need anything dynamite?”

“making sure youre all stocked up.” he grumbled, refusing to meet your gaze. “don’t need any of these brats whining because you’re out of bandages.”

“oh? you know, i’m perfectly capable of keeping things in order,” you teased, leaning back against the counter with that same cheeky grin that had been haunting his thoughts.

as if on cue, he’d suddenly remember a tiny scratch on his cheek today. they were always minor injuries—barely worth a second glance—but he made a point of showing them to you, as if they needed your immediate attention, always saying something like:

“got a cut on my finger. don’t need a fuss, just make it quick.”

“got a little nick on my palm, just need it wrapped up or whatever.”

“got a scratch here. honestly nothing, but i guess you should take a look.”

you always had something smart to say, today you went with, “oh, look at that,”

after his second visit, your tone began to shift from actual concern to a mix of amusement and feigned concern. “you’ve got a little scrape. better let me take care of that.”

he’d huff, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “just get it over with.”

during his second, third, and fourth visits, you tended to his injury with a regular old first aid kit. you explained that it was better to let such a minor cut heal on its own, emphasizing how small the injury was—something that only seemed to irritate bakugou. you wanted to ensure that his body didn’t become dependent on a quirk for healing, even for minor wounds.

bakugou didn’t argue or ask for any extra attention. he was determined to stay above such petty requests. however, he found that he didn’t mind the touch of your hands, which were gentle and precise. each time your fingers brushed against his skin, he felt a small, unwelcome jolt of warmth, though he never let it show.

but today was different.

today felt like the first day all over again.

he hoped you couldn’t see or feel the heat radiating from him as you leaned in and teased, “so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he instantly felt the soothing effects of your quirk.

“told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice tinged with a forced irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.”

as you leaned back, your gaze lingered on him with an unreadable expression. the soft, ambient light of the infirmary cast a gentle glow around you, accentuating the warmth of your smile. despite the cool air, he felt an intense heat creep to his neck, betraying his attempt to stay composed.

bakugou turned his face slightly, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding. mumbling a quick thanks, he tried to regain his composure, his movements slightly stiff as he prepared to leave.

he walks out of your office thinking about how he wished he would have let his friends talk about the new nurse at ua.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ �� ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou nearly missed his visit today. it was the last day of finals, and his friends were eager to celebrate the end of the grueling two weeks of work. they wanted to head to a café around the corner—a favorite spot from their school days. bakugou had initially planned to meet them there, but they insisted on walking together. this was why he now found himself angrily trudging through the school halls, his frown evident as he moved.

when they stepped out of the school, bakugou abruptly stopped in his tracks. he quickly patted himself down, feigning realization that he had forgotten his phone. he put on a show, acting as if he was in a rush to retrieve it.

after a brief and hurried detour, he found his way back to the infirmary, dashing through the corridors with the same urgency as a student late to class. he slowed down every time he passed an open door, then sped up again, repeating this process until he finally arrived back at the infirmary.

his frustration was already high from the charade, but it reached new heights when he saw you and midoriya together, seemingly engrossed in each other. you were sitting close, helping midoriya upload the practical grades onto a computer. the sight of you two so close, with midoriya’s easy smile and your focused attention, only intensified bakugou's irritation.

he slumped onto one of the infirmary beds, his posture stiff and impatient. he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting for you and midoriya to finish what he perceived as an overly affectionate interaction. he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that flared up every time he glanced at the two of you, his mood darkening with each passing moment.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” bakugou quickly turned to his childhood friend, his eyes narrowed and his palms began to warm up. but just before he could bark out a reply, you had cut in, “what?”

bakugou’s patience snapped as midoriya’s smirk widened. midoriyas voice dropped to a teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

the words hit bakugou like a punch to the gut. he felt his anger flare, his fists clenching at his sides. he shot to his feet, his voice coming out in a low, threatening growl. “scram, nerd. didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender as he took a step back. he thanked you once more before giving bakugou a teasing smile and walking out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

bakugou’s irritation simmered as he watched midoriya leave. the heat in his cheeks was a mix of embarrassment and anger. he slumped back onto the infirmary bed, trying to shake off the tension that midoriya’s comments had stirred up inside him.

you turned your full attention to him, a small laugh escaping your lips. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over with a calm, collected grace. the way you moved, so assured and at ease, only seemed to fuel his inner turmoil.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, but it was clear there was no bite to his words. he was trying to mask the red creeping up his neck. he was determined not to let you see how much midoriya’s comments had affected him.

and its like the universe was against him because you couldn’t resist one last tease before getting down to business. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you’re after?” the playful glint in your eye made his facade crumble a little bit.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, though he couldn’t entirely hide the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sat back down. your teasing, while annoying, had a way of making him feel strangely at ease.

he decided the universe was on his side again when you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his shoulder. bakugou watched you intently, his irritation slowly melting away under the soothing warmth of your quirk. despite his gruff exterior, he always found that during these moments with you, whether you used your quirk or not, the constant pressure he carried with him all day would finally start to ease up.

as you gently pulled back, your eyes locked with his. today was the last day he’d have the chance to drop by like this. over the past two weeks, these visits had become a regular part of his routine. lately, he’d started coming in the mornings and in between his scheduled practicals, under the guise of “checking up on the students he roughed up.”

this would be the final time he could casually walk in and share these small, meaningful moments with you. the thought of missing these interactions left him more unsettled than he wanted to admit. before you could say anything, he stood up abruptly, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. without another word, he turned and made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy with unspoken feelings.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop pause. he turned to face you, the hint of curiosity in his eyes.

you offered him a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “be careful out there. won’t be around to patch all those little scrapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his scowl softening slightly as he took in your words. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of your little office for the last time.

the door clicked shut behind him, and as he moved down the hallways, now deserted with all the students gone, he realized that the mess of emotions inside him wasn’t from any damn quirk. on top of that, he couldn’t shake the relentless feeling that he’d regret leaving you behind without finally tell you how he really felt, even if it still confused the hell out of him.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

he was right.

bakugou walked out of his agency with his usual scowl, but his mind was elsewhere. instead of focusing on his next mission, he replayed every interaction between the two of you—how you treated the students and tended to his cuts and bruises. he thought about your caring nature, your teasing attitude, and how your presence seemed to calm him despite his usual irritation. admitting that he missed you or cared more than he let on was still out of the question; he wasn’t ready for that. which is why he found himself in a state of despair.

but it wouldn’t hurt to see you again, he reasoned. after all, he had a sizable cut on his hand from a fierce battle earlier that day—a paper cut from adding more paper to the printer. he blasted his way back to ua high school, his heart pounding for some odd reason.

he rushed up the front steps, frustration barely contained as he shook the door handles, convinced they were just stiff from the cold. as he stepped back, preparing to blast the doors open, he noticed a small sign that read, "winter break has begun—ua is closed." his face fell, disappointment clear in his features.

he completely forgot.

with a muttered string of curses, he turned around, heading back to his agency, his mood darkened by a sense of missed opportunity and lingering irritation.

that same night he nearly looked you up on social media, but decided he was above that–although he had no problems getting purposely ‘injured’ just to see you again. he decided that he needed to talk to you in person. he was not gonna message you on social media like some extra.

though it was painful to admit, bakugou decided midoriya was his best bet for advice, you two were colleagues after all. the two had gone through a rough patch during middle school and their first year of high school, but they’d grown closer after the war. their relationship was like that of brothers, marked by teasing and occasional verbal jabs. and just as midoriya had influenced bakugou, bakugou had also rubbed off on midoriya.

“holy shit, just admit it! admit you like her,” midoriya whisper-yelled, his voice trembling with exasperation as he buried his head in his hands. he’d spent the past hour trying to break through bakugou’s walls, desperately attempting to get his childhood best friend to confess his obvious feelings for you.

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” bakugou replied with a dismissive shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. he crossed his arms over his chest, feigning indifference, but his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest. the muscles in his jaw tensed as he tried to maintain his composure, but even he could feel the cracks forming in his facade.

midoriya looked up, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “you’ve got to be kidding me, katsuki. you dragged me out here to talk about her. it’s written all over your damn face.”

bakugou’s eyes flickered with irritation as he let out a low growl, his voice rising slightly in response to midoriya’s persistence. “seriously, what’s your deal with this lovey-dovey crap?” he snapped, leaning forward so forcefully that the chair creaked under the pressure.

“i came here to hang out, not to spill my guts about feelings, and the only thing written on my face is— ”he paused for dramatic effect, pointing to his left cheek,“—number,” he pointed to his right cheek, as if marking the spot. “—one!” his voice rose in defiant emphasis, though the strained expression on his face revealed just how much he was trying to keep his composure.

midoriya’s gaze sharpened, a mix of irritation and amusement dancing in his eyes. but before he could respond, bakugou cut him off sharply.

“i also didn’t drag you anywhere!” bakugou snapped, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “you came here on your own.”

“so—” midoriya began, but bakugou was already back on the defensive.

“but if you’re so damn desperate to talk about her, then go ahead. i won’t stop you” bakugou interrupted, his voice laced with challenge as he glared at midoriya.

midoriya couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that? you’re just making it more obvious that you care.”

bakugou’s expression suddenly shifted. He stared at his friend, frustration and resignation mixing in his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he’d finally decided to let his guard down. “damn it, fine,” he muttered, the words coming out in a mix of defeat and reluctant honesty. “i thought it was just her quirk at first—you know how it works, right? you had that old lady’s lips on you all the time. figured i was just feeling awkward from the situation.”

midoriya’s eyes widened in surprise. “wait, her quirk—”

“hold on, i’m not done,” bakugou snapped, cutting him off abruptly. “after that, she started taking care of me without using her quirk. like, really looking out for me, making sure i was okay. that’s when i figured out it wasn’t just her damn power messing with my head. it’s her. it’s the way she talks, the way she looks at me, the way she gives a damn about people. the more we talked over the past two weeks, the more i realized…i actually give a shit.”

midoriya’s mouth opened, but he was interrupted by both of their phones buzzing with an urgent alert. they both glanced at their screens, and midoriya’s expression shifted to one of concern.

“shit,” bakugou muttered, grabbing his jacket. “they need all pros in the area.”

midoriya nodded, his face set in determination. “we’ve gotta go. now.”

“yeah,” bakugou agreed, already heading for the door. “we’ll talk later.”

they both slammed some cash down onto the table before rushing out of the café, the urgency of the situation taking over. bakugou's thoughts about you and the emotional revelations would have to wait; their immediate priority was to respond to the villain attack and protect the city.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou limped through the bustling emergency room, his face twisted in pain and frustration. he tried to ignore the nagging sense of vulnerability that came with his injuries. that stupid villain had managed to pull a fast one on him, landing a nasty hit before bakugou practically blew him to bits.

midoriya, being his usual self, had quickly suggested that the best treatment for bakugou’s injuries was at the very hospital where you volunteered, an effort to have you guys see each other again. normally, bakugou would have avoided causing a scene in a hospital, preferring to get patched up at his agency instead. however, midoriya’s persistence and his offer to handle all the paperwork made it difficult for bakugou to refuse.

he sighed as he let kaminari, sero, and kirishima come along with him, clearly annoyed but determined not to let midoriya’s plan fall through. as he trudged along.

the chaotic hustle and bustle of the emergency room was in full swing, a symphony of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and urgent conversations. nurses and doctors moved briskly, attending to patients with practiced efficiency. bakugou’s irritation only grew as he was directed to sit and wait for some doctor anderson.

“i’ll wait,” bakugou growled, clenching his jaw. “i want the best of the best. that means ms. y/l/n.”

the medical staff exchanged uncertain glances, trying to balance their duties with the stubborn hero’s demands. “she’s just a volunteer here, and she already has quite the list,” one of the doctors said, attempting to reason with him. “we really need to—”

bakugou’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you questioning me?!” he snarled, his voice thundering through the corridor, shaking the air with its intensity. the staff, taken aback by his explosive temper, quickly scrambled to comply, knowing better than to argue with him.

with a flurry of activity, they stabilized bakugou’s injuries as best as they could under the circumstances. the urgency in their movements betrayed their anxiety over his demands, but they managed to prepare him for your arrival.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

you moved quickly through the halls of the hospital, your heart racing as you had just received word that pro hero dynamite had just been admitted, and had demanded you to be the one to help him. you had a aching feeling that it wasn't for another scape. you spotted a group of familiar faces clustered together just outside bakugou's room. kirishima, kaminari, and sero were chatting animatedly, their conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and occasional glances toward the door which gave you a small sense of relief.

“seriously, this is just karma,” kaminari said with a thoughtful frown, peering up at the ceiling as if searching for divine answers. “he was coming to recovery girl for every little scrape, it was so obvious he was trying to get an excuse to see her.”

“yeah,” sero chimed in with a smirk, “ bet you he was milking those tiny injuries just to get a little attention from her.”

kirishima laughed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “he probably thought if he kept getting those little nicks and bruises, he’d get a chance to talk to her more. pretty clever, but also so very unmanly.”

their laughter and commentary were a strange mix of sympathy and light-hearted teasing. you found yourself frozen in place, hiding just out of sight as you overheard their conversation. the realization hit you hard—bakugou’s frequent visits and seemingly pointless injuries had been his way of getting close to you.

swallowing hard, you took a deep breath before making your way toward bakugou's room. you quickly greeted the pro heroes offering polite nods before pushing through the door. your hands began to sweat, nerves getting the better of you as you creaked the door open.

inside, you let out a sigh of relief mixed with concern. his condition wasn't as dire as you’d feared, but it wasn’t exactly good either. instead of the usual tiny cuts and small bruises you were accustomed to, bakugou had a deep, painful-looking gash on his side. it looked serious, though you could tell he was trying to downplay it.

he turned his head slowly toward you, his eyes barely open but trying to focus. his usual fiery glare was subdued, replaced by an almost vulnerable expression. “hello, dynamite,” you greeted him gently, a playful hint in your voice despite the situation. “thought i told you to be careful.”

bakugou's lips twitched into a weak, smile. “told me not to get any small ones, think i listened pretty well,” he joked, though his voice was strained.

you gave him a small smile, but it quickly faded as you noticed his vitals starting to waver on the monitor beside him. the steady beep of the heart rate was becoming irregular, and your concern spiked.

without hesitation, you activated your quirk, letting your hand hover over the deep cut on his side. the air seemed to crackle with energy as you focused intently, channeling your power to heal the wound. bakugou watched you with growing shock, his eyes widening as the extent of your quirk became apparent.

as you worked, you kept your focus on the healing process, determined to stabilize him. his expression of surprise and awe. despite the situation, you felt a pang of satisfaction seeing the wound slowly mend under your touch.

the room was filled with the quiet hum of medical equipment and the occasional murmurs from the pro heroes outside. you could feel the weight of the room’s concern, but you pushed through, driven by the need to get bakugou patched up.

finally, after a few tense moments, the monitor’s beeping steadied and bakugou’s breathing became more even. you pulled your hand away, your energy slightly drained but relieved that the worst was over for now.

bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and despite the pain, there was something almost tender in his eyes. “thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you offered him an awkward smile. “just doing my job.”

the two of you sat in an awkward silence, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him while you stared at the sheets. you got up, slowly preparing to say goodbye.

“so... your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s, huh?” bakugou blinked slowly at you, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

you nodded, your expression growing more serious. “yeah, it’s not.”

bakugou’s expression hardened, his voice sharp. “why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t think i’d have to see you again,” you admitted, frustration creeping into your voice. “and you’re not exactly the saint you pretend to be, either,” you added, your face flushing as you turned towards the window.

bakugou’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning slightly pink. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you kept coming to me with those tiny scratches. you never really needed my help; you just wanted an excuse to see me.”

“are you out of your damn mind?!” bakugou roared, his face flushing deeper with anger. “i was using my resources to stay in top shape, alright? nothing more, nothing less!”

“top shape—who the hell talks like that?!” now you were a dark shade of crimson, your face blazing as the argument escalated. “bakugou, just admit it already!”

“there’s nothing to admit! how about you admit you were just waiting for an excuse to kiss me, you perv?!” bakugou’s voice rose, his face now a deeper red, frustration clear in his eyes.

“what?! don’t try to twist this around on me, you little shit! you’re the one who kept stopping by for the most ridiculous reasons—half the time, i didn’t even see anything wrong!” you shot back, your anger matching his.

“and yet you still acted like you wanted to kiss me, you damn freak!” bakugou’s face was now a deep shade of red, his embarrassment and anger mixing in equal measure.

“what?! i’m not a freak! you’re the freak! you just barged into my office and pointed at your cheek. who assumes something like that? if anything, you’re the perv for thinking healers just go around kissing people!” you exclaimed, your frustration peaking.

“that shitty little short circuit said you were the new recovery girl??” bakugou snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“i am? doesn’t mean i have the same quirk,” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

“well, you should’ve just said that’s not how your quirk works from the start!” bakugou growled, his tone defensive, his face still flushed.

“and you wouldn’t have blown me to bits. you were so damn confident when you just pointed at that tiny little scratch! i was just trying to protect myself!” you said, your voice rising in frustration as you turned away from him.

“oh, you’re really pushing it—” bakugou began, his anger barely contained, but he was cut off by kirishima barging into the room.

“sorry, but you’re both being unmanly right now.”

“stay out of this!” you both yelled, turning to the pro. he simply sighed and walked out, shaking his head and muttering about how things were just getting more unmanly by the minute.

there was a long pause as both of you sat in the silence, the weight of the room’s emotions settling around you. the air felt thick, charged with the intensity of the argument and the vulnerability that had emerged. bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more introspective. his shoulders relaxed, and his voice took on a quieter, more tentative tone. “didn’t really need your help then,” he said, the words laced with an awkward honesty that caught you off guard.

“i know,” you replied taking a seat at the edge of his bed, your own embarrassment matching his. you took a deep breath, feeling the fight drain from you as the truth settled between you. the tension in the room shifted, morphing from anger to something more fragile and uncertain.

another moment of silence stretched between you, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“bakugou,” you started softly, searching for the right words. your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him. “i like you,” you confessed, the words slipping out with a mix of shyness and sincerity.

bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his trademark scowl. “had a feeling,” he grumbled, his tone a blend of annoyance and something softer beneath. “took you long enough to admit it.”

before he could react further, you reached out and gave him a playful yet firm slap on the arm. your face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “what was that for?” bakugou exclaimed, rubbing the spot where you’d hit him, his expression a mix of genuine confusion and mild irritation.

“don’t act all smug,” you shot back, your voice laced with indignation. you’d just confessed your feelings, and instead of offering a heartfelt response, the idiot in front of you had simply said he knew. it was like he didn’t even grasp the weight of what you’d said.

bakugou’s scowl faltered as he looked at you with an unusual hint of vulnerability. his gaze dropped to the floor, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. it was clear he was struggling; he wasn’t used to expressing his feelings or dealing with someone else’s, and it showed.

when he finally looked back up, his expression was serious, but you noticed a rare softness in his eyes. “alright,” he said, his voice low and gruff but edged with an awkward sincerity that seemed out of character for him. “i like you too. a lot. more than i probably should.”

as you both sat there, basking in the newfound honesty between you, the tension began to melt away. bakugou let out a deep breath, and you could see the muscles in his shoulders relax. a comfortable silence settled in, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. for now, there was no need to rush or worry about what came next. you simply savored the moment, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment.

after a few moments, bakugou shifted slightly, a small, thoughtful look crossing his face. he wasn’t sure if it was the pain meds or the weight of your confession, but he was starting to feel a bit bolder than he had been. breaking the comfortable silence, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “ya know,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of his usual gruffness, “i’m still in a lot of pain.” he paused, watching you, as if he was testing the waters for your reaction.

you looked at him, puzzled. “what are you getting at?”

“well, we don’t know for sure if your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s,” he said, leaning in slightly. “ worked pretty well last time.”

you tilted your head, catching on to his subtle hint. “oh, so you’re suggesting that my quirk might work better if i used it the way recovery girl does? you know, with a bit more—” you paused for dramatic effect, “—personal touch?”

a soft smile spread across his face, his gaze locking onto yours. “something like that.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “well, if that’s the case, i’d better go check on your friends then. they might need some help too, after all.”

before you could move, bakugou’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. his eyes softened slightly, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in his gaze. “hey, don’t be a smartass,” he said, pulling you closer. “just... stay here for a minute.”

your heart skipped a beat as you were drawn into his personal space. you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. his expression was earnest now, the playful facade giving way to something more genuine.

“bakugou?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in slightly.

you could feel the tension between you, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. his gaze was fixed on your lips, his intention clear even if unspoken. the moment hung in the air, charged with the possibility of a kiss.

finally, with a playful smirk, you tilted your head and teased, “i suppose if you’re still in pain, i should take care of that.”

before you could react, bakugou closed the distance between you. his lips brushed against yours in a warm, gentle kiss. it was soft and sweet, carrying a surprising tenderness that left both of you breathless. the kiss was fleeting but filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. as he pulled away, his smirk was replaced by a genuine, tender look. his eyes searched yours, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted with his usual fiery demeanor.

you blinked, still processing the kiss. with a shy smile, you asked, “feel better?”

he quickly buried his face in the side of your neck, causing you to giggle. "yeah," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel him slowly start to smile against your skin, "better."

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tagslist: @kirikiss @ah-mya @terralupa @purplebirdds @semiji ᐢᗜᐢ

♡ a/n: haha ember refusing to die? yk whos embers died… also haha reach out????! also sorry for the ooc at the end. i just needed that no lie... :D also part of me wants to do a part 3?? but just a bunch of random drabbles of you both getting together and your relationship 🤗

꩜ fr a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT POSTS LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS AMAZING <3 LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! I PUMPPPPED THIS CHAPTER OUT AS MY WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #dynamight #bakugo katsuki #kacchan

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kentnaturaltribrid · 1 year ago

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Sun’s out, Vampires in.

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kerryshifts · 2 months ago

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hi kerry!! do you have any ideas for places to shift to? (╥﹏╥) all i can think of are the more well-known ones like h2o or uh... that's it, actually :[

places to shift if you have no ideas.

italy 1993. but it’s a romanticised version … becoming reality. you live in south italy. more specifically palermo, sicilia, a city full of old churches, monuments and works of art of inestimable value, animated by lively neighborhoods. summers are mainly beach days, eating apricots and strawberries from your grandpa's gardens, living in the rural part of the town if you like a quiet atmosphere. you are part of a friendgroup who goes on adventures almost everyday, sometimes even daring to go outside of sicilia, and who spends the majority of time together. sometimes, when the summers are too warm, you’ll spend the days in someone's private pool, reading and talking shit about your classmates. in the winters, after the homework (be careful of what high school you choose to do!!!!) you’d stay inside eating the food someone's grandma cooked for you and your group. full of vibes … and if you want to know more about italy and its high schools ask xxxx.

fairyland. you are a fairy who lives next to your bestfriends, who are also fairies. actually …. it’s this whole universe full of people like you. think about it like the cartoons version of winx. you learn how to be a fairy in a school, you and your friends go out together almost everyday, maybe a romance with a rival? it’s a world full of possibilities.

old hollywood. if you script out all the bigotery, it would be such a fun experience. best friends with marilyn monroe (or mortal enemies… who knows?) parties full of glam, and you are so loved by the public that the future generations will remember you as an icon, forever. not going to lie i would this just to be with james dean.

rockstar. therapists hate you because you encourage rebelliousness !!!!!!!! you are full of charisma, and so are your songs. lead vocalist, lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass guitar, and drums…. maybe a rock band? smokey make-up and red lipstick, leather jacket or skirts or pants or whatever (even nothing… if you are that bold) you are a world-wide EVENT. your concerts are full of people screaming your songs word for word. magazines write about you like you are some sort of miracle happening to music. have fun !!!!!

supernatural. not the show (well, if you want…!) but it’s a school full of supernatural people, and each of you is divided into an house based on your supernatural abilities. honestly it sounds cool, just make sure to script that vampires and werewolves will not kill each other… because of their dramatic ass. oop.

farmer’s child. you live in kansas and you are part of this numerous family (you are the middle of, like, 10 children) and… you also live in a small town. but everything seems to be out of a movie.

your dream job !!! understandable. what job do you want to do? a florist (romantic life with flowers everywhere you go, befriend clients) or an actor/actress (you would have such fun in between takes!!) or an astronaut (to THE MOON!?!?!?!?????!!!!!!!!) or a teacher (cmon, some kids will teach you life lessons. children know things we forgot) or… everything else in the world and beyond, really.

monarch of an another planet. its like star wars but its not star wars. you just rule a planet. sounds exhausting but also cool?

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lia-linny · 4 months ago

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Your request are open so could you maybe write a Felix neighbor au? I think he has boy next door vibes.

-🍒 anon

summary: Felix moves in next door and you hit it off immediately due to your shared passion for baking.

genre: fluff, neighbor au

words: 2.4k

The cold was moving through the empty corridors of yn's apartment complex. Winter announced itself with icy temperatures, which were still not enough for snow, and bare trees. It was a lonely, characterized by winter depressions. People wrapped up alone in their sofa blankets and tried to compensate for their problems with cookies and cheesy Christmas movies. Like every year, yn was one of those people. Kevin Alone at Home was her go-to, but just as she was about to start the fourth rerun of her favorite chrismas movie with a slice of freshly baked apple pie, there was a knock at the door.

Groaning, she untangled herself from her pile of blankets and hurried to the door. When she opened it, a handsome young man stood in front of her in the run-down and definitely not heated hallway. however, his broad smile had a warm glow, like hot chocolate with marshmallows, which made up for the lack of heating and immediately captivated her.

"Hey, I'm Felix. It looks like I'm your new neighbor." He beamed at her as if he couldn't imagine anything better than living next door to her, even if yn would have lost a lot of enthusiasm in his place after seeing the cracked walls and broken radiators. That's why she admired him all the more for his positive disposition as he chatted away happily. He was obviously a real social butterfly.

"I moved here for my work. I'm actually from Sydney, but a well-known dance school made me an offer I couldn't refuse, so I traveled halfway around the world for a bit." He laughed, a laugh as warm and hearty as his charisma.

"I really like it here so far. Ah, before I forget! I brought you some brownies. They're my specialty and I thought a welcome gift would go down well with the neighbors. I don't want to make myself unpopular." He laughed again. As if this personification of kindness and joy could ever make himself unpopular, but she was happy to take brownies anyway. She doubted that he could match her own, baking was her specialty after all, but she had to give him a chance.

"Thank you very much for the brownies... don't worry, the people who live on this floor are all grumpy housewives or old businessmen anyway. They hate you with or without brownies... At least I found all my welcome muffins in the trash outside a day later." yn laughed as she looked at Felix's horrified face.

"How can one be so mean?" he asked indignantly. Yn shrugged her shoulders.

"They're all bitter and have to take it out on their fellow human beings I guess..."

"Well then, promise me that at least you'll actually try my brownies. It would be too bad if all of them were thrown away." Yn giggled as she took the plate of still-warm brownies and nodded in response to his request.

"Promise!" He smiled at her from ear to ear and shyly she waved goodbye to him for now, even though as she closed the door she had a feeling that she would see him again sooner than she thought.

~☆~

The warm light from the ceiling lamp, together with the dimmed moonlight, was the only thing that illuminated the small kitchen, which was in the midst of the usual chaos that night-time stress baking brings for yn. Bowls were piled up in the sink, cutlery, any other baking utensils and food such as leftover sugar or eggshells scattered across the worktop.

She carefully weighed the ingredients and mixed them in her bowl. A little sugar, then the butter, but when she added the flour, the scale showed far too low a number. She needed at least twice as much for the amount prescribed in the recipe. However, she had already used up the entire contents of her packet. Sighing, she looked around her kitchen. There was no way this little amout of flour would be enought for the cake she wanted to bake.

But as it was the middle of the night, she didn't really feel like going out into the unsafe streets of her town to look for flour in a Convince store. So she really only had one option. Wait until the next day began and then continue baking. Resigned, she washed her hands and was about to watch her favorite show on the couch for the thousandth time when she thought of another option.

So she hesitantly entered the long hallway that connected her apartment to the others on her floor in her cute dog slippers. Carefully, she headed for her new neighbor's door. Felix had brought her his tasty brownies. That had to mean that there was at least a chance that he had flour at home.

She knocked on his door, barely audibly, before her courage could leave her. At first nothing stirred behind the walls and as she was about to give up and shuffle back to her apartment, she heard footsteps and soft rustling behind the still closed door. She hurriedly ran her hands through her hair, regretting that she had decided to do this, when the door opened.

Felix stood in the doorway. His hair was disheveled and his eyes narrowed. His freckles were clearly visible in the dimmed light of the hallway lamp and played around his soft facial features. But then her gaze wandered a little further down, too far down, because she realized that his top was completely missing. He had obviously forgotten to put on a T-shirt.

Her cheeks burned and she jerked her gaze away, even though she couldn't deny that she would have loved to keep looking at his well-formed six-pack. She covered her eyes with her hand to shield her bright red face from him.

"Oh..." his voice sounded even deeper than during the day, but one could still hear the embarrassment in it.

"I'm incredibly sorry! Give me a second!" He disappeared again and returned shortly afterwards, this time wearing a loose hoodie that completely covered his well-trained upper body.

"Hey!" Despite his tired eyes, he stole a glance at her.

"Hi, um... I was wondering if you had any flour left... i started baking and well... of course i didn't realize until much too late that i didn't have enough flour." Embarrassed, she stuttered her explanation. She desperately tried to banish the image of his body in her mind. Her neighbor laughed and then nodded.

"Of course I've got flour, what do you think of me? After all, my famous brownies don't bake themselves!" She had to giggle at his feigned offense. It made her relax a little again. Yn waited while he disappeared into his apartment to fetch her flour. But when he brought a 10 kilo bag instead of a small package, she was amazed.

"What do you need so much flour for?" she asked in horror.

"Do you think baking is a joke for me?" Felix just laughed and heaved the sack towards her apartment. He carefully put the flour down in her kitchen.

"You can keep the rest. I've got about six of the sacks left." He had to chuckle when she gasped in astonishment. How could one person ever use so much flour?

"Don't ask, it was a housewarming gift from my friends. They thought they had to celebrate my move by making me bake more brownies for them." Felix laughed, obviously reveling in happy memories of his friends. Yn had to giggle too, as this action sounded all too much like something her own friends would do. Her best friend had once told her that she would kill for her cake and she had meant it.

"Thank you for the flour. Are you sure you don't want me to bring you back the rest?"

"No, it's all good. But I would really appreciate a slice of whatever it is you're making." Felix winked at her, which turned her stomach, and the tingling sensation that followed replaced the previously very dominant desire for something sweet. He waved goodbye and Felix had already disappeared from her apartment, but his presence could still be felt in her glowing cheeks and trembling fingers.

~☆~

In the weeks that followed, she saw Felix again and again. She didn't quite understand it yet, but he triggered strange feelings in her that she couldn't interpret. But one thing was certain: she felt drawn to him, wanted to crouch down next to him when he stroked a cat outside her apartment complex, take his hand when he brought her mail up or hug him when he praised her cake.

And obviously this feeling of attraction was mutual, because one day when yn came home from work stressed out, she found a plate of brownies and a card on her doorstep. Curious, she bent down to find a neatly handwritten note from her neighbor.

'Hi, hi, if you have another flour emergency or just want to text, here's my number.

p.s. I hope you like the brownies >3'

She stared perplexedly at the digits that added up to his number. Slowly she typed the them into her phone, double-checking each number. Then she typed a cautious 'hey'

~☆~

Y/n stood on the friendly doormat and knocked on the door diagonally opposite hers with her cake box in hand. She had actually baked a cake because her parents were coming over today, but a few minutes ago they had canceled at short notice and Y/n really didn't feel up to eating a whole cheesecake by herself. So she hoped that Felix would take some of her cake. After all, it wasn't unusual for the two of them to provide each other with homemade baked goods of any kind.

When the door opened, however, she was not greeted by Felix's friendly face but looked directly into the eyes of a young man with a mischievous grin. Yn noticed how round his cheeks were as he shouted over his shoulder:

"Guys! It's Felix's baking girl from next door and he wasn't exaggerating, she really does look like a goddess!" Pure chaos then broke out. Numerous voices could be heard from the apartment, shouting and screaming and, if yn wasn't mistaken, something must have fallen over and broken.

"Jisung! Leave her alone, stop that shit!" Felix could be heard shouting, but the man he was obviously talking to only turned to her and winked. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she watched Felix fight his way down the corridor to the door in record time. He pushed his friend into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

Relieved, he leaned against it, his eyes closed, and yet he felt yn's questioning gaze on him.

"sorry, i'm sooo sorry! My friends can be a bit much. Please tell me you don't hate me, because I could understand thst after Jisung." He looked at her absently and yn started snorting.

"That was fucking weird!" She laughed, which brought a lovesick look to Felix's face that she didn't seem to notice. He didn't know what it was, but he would do anything to see her smile. It sweetened his every day. Felix often heard that he was a ray of sunshine, but he had never seen such a radiance as when she laughed. It fascinated him like nothing else and suddenly he had an infinitely strong desire to hold her close to him. When she had wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, she held up the cake expectantly.

"I baked a cake, but my visitor canceled. I just wanted to ask if you'd like a slice or two but it looks like you've got a whole horde of people in there so you might as well have the whole thing. " She held the cake out to him expectedly, but instead of taking it, he stared at her lips.

There was a change in the atmosphere, it was full of electricity and tension now. Suddenly she realized how little space there was between them and yet she wanted nothing more than to close the gap. Carefully, she took a step closer to him. Yn studied his face, his brown eyes, the position of his freckles and his rosy lips. Were they as soft as they looked?

There were only a few centimeters separating them. Slowly, as if he wanted to give her the opportunity to run away at any time, he approached her. Every millimeter he bridged made them both smile more. She used her free hand to claw at his top in a desperate attempt to somehow stop herself from floating away in happiness. When they finally pressed their lips together, grinning, it was like biting into a sugary cookie. Her dopamine level continued to rise along with her pulse. She felt his warm, soft lips on hers. They moved together, even if her happy grin made the task more difficult. Their breaths became one as they broke away and Felix smiled gently, resting his forehead on hers.

He felt like he could say this way forever but his plans were interupted as his apartment door, against which he was still leaning, suddenly opened behind him.

A small scream escaped him and he flew to the floor with a thud. His friends, who had opened the door, burst out laughing. Yn recognized Felix's friend jisung, who had also opened the door for her earlier. He rolled on the floor laughing, but when his eyes landed on the cake in her hand, his eyes grew huge.

"Is the cheesecake for us?" he asked between pleading and excitement. Yn laughed and nodded. With a happy smile, he took the cake from yn and whizzed back into Felix's apartment, a few of his friends followed him, others stayed behind with her and Felix, who had meanwhile managed to pull himself up from the floor.

"I'm off then." she said, a little embarrassed and avoided looking Felix directly in the eye, as she could already feel the temperature rising in her cheeks. She hastily turned around and fled to her own apartment, where she would spend the next few hours analyzing the situation with her best friend over the phone but before she closed the door her eyes met his and she shot him a loving grin. A promise that this was not the last kiss.

#kpop #stray kids #stray kids imagine #skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #felix yongbok #felix #lee felix #skz felix #stray kids felix #felix x reader #felix stray kids #felix lee #felix x y/n #felix x you

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hrrtshape · 2 days ago

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I'm not sure if you've already told this story, but I'd love to read how you and coryo met in your hogwarts life. Love u and have a great day

get comfy.

right so CONTEXT FIRST OBVIOUSLY. i'm a pureblood but we're NOT related don't even start with that i literally scripted us UNRELATED i am not here for cousin-core leave that to the malfoys. i come from a veela bloodline that is like soooo annoyingly diplomatic and glamorous like baby's first cold war was hosted in our parlour. i scripted that veela magic is considered high-class and mythical and dangerous and too pretty for its own good. and THEN from my dad's side i have the whole RUSSIAN ROYALTY THING LIKE. great great whatever was probably making samovars with the tsarina. maybe. possibly. the point is i walk around like i have five ghosts of winter palaces up my ass. so. yeah. elegance. but in a girlie way. a little frothy. a little poisoned tea party

AND THEN there's coriolanus snow who is just.......... SO. he's fancy in a completely fascist boarding school way like he looks like he'd kick a puppy but he wouldn't. he'd give the puppy a lecture on state loyalty and then feed it the best pate you've ever seen.

he's old money but not like black family old money, not velvet and skeletons in the closet, more like marble busts and national holidays named after ancestors. it's a different vibe. it's scary but intriguing. he never did the inbreeding thing or maybe he did but it's chic when his family does it. whatever. anyway

SO WE MET. OBVIOUSLY. at a winter gala. where else do emotionally constipated pureblood heirs meet their shrieking half-veela future soulmates. i was FIVE. he was SIX. i was holding my mum's champagne flute cause she told me to stand still and look photogenic. he bumped into me and gave me the FLATTEST 😐 FACE I'VE EVER SEEN. like fully looked at me like i was something he'd have to scrub off his dress shoes later. and i??? was obviously infatuated at him like he'd just given me a tiara and told me i was princess of geneva. i thought it was romance. i was so girl. i was doing twirls in patent leather shoes and asking about the napkins

but it wasn't enemies to lovers. that's boring. that's low-hanging fic fruit. it was more like…….lucy and schroeder. he'd be reading a book about magical infrastructure reform and i'd be behind him trying to hex my dolly to do backflips. he hated james potter. james was my COUSIN. i LOVED james. we lived near each other. and for YEARS it was just. me visiting the potters. him appearing. me shrieking. him doing the 😐 thing. me somehow ending up sitting on his piano bench trying to play the minute waltz with one finger while wearing a tiara made of tinsel and ambition.

he did NOT understand why i was always there. i was loud. i was sparkly. he thought i was contagious. i was obsessed with storybook dragons and i asked about his hair all the time. i'd turn into a fox just to mess with him. i once bit his ankle. he still brings that up. he NEVER got why he didn't hate me. he didn't like me but he didn't not like me either. it was why is she here and then why are you pulling her away. let her be annoying in peace

and THEN OBVIOUSLY puberty happened and HE GOT TALL. AND HE GOT MEANER. AND PRETTIER. and i lost my braces and people started saying we were meant to be and i started throwing things. i was 15. he was 16. it was giving i saw you across the great hall and spilled ink on my parchment just to distract myself from how you were laughing with your prefect friends in that SHITTY smug way you do. and then he'd look over. and i'd go full 🧍‍♀️

when he hit 6'3 and his dad got elected minister and mine didn't re-elect he started walking like the floor owed him interest. and i STILL annoyed him. STILL FOLLOWED HIM. STILL accidentally apparated into the same room as him at the christmas party and tried to style it out by pretending i needed to borrow a book on wand law. IT WAS A WHOLE THING

and now look at us. soulmates

#asks #emma motivates #emmas marauders dr #reality shift #shifting motivation #desired reality #shifting community #reality shifting #shifting #realityshifting #shifting realities

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becausebuckley · 8 months ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 38!

some more fics!! it’s been an excellent reading week!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all you're giving me is friction | hammersmiths/@henswilsons | 7.9k | T

Eddie is new, and married, and Buck won’t stop flirting. 5+1. excellent team vibes and such a fun twist!!

family feud: first responders | Princessfbi/@princessfbi | 3.2k| G

The FireFam go on Family Feud. hilarious lovely fic that was so nice to read in 911 family feud week <3

ice cream before dinner | cloudydaisies | 58.6k | T

gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right? this made me cry. eddie and jee and mara <3

i'm here (i'm yours for the taking) | farfromthstars/@doeeyeseddie | 19.1k | T

at the winter wedding of an old friend, buck and eddie pretend to be married to each other. the plan has no weaknesses, obviously, not even mistletoe or anyone’s secret feelings… using this as a blanket rec for this author because i've been slowly making my way through all their fics and every single one of them hits the spot <3 but this one in particular has a lovely lovely pretend relationship and it's so good!!

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buck, eddie, and the intimacy of a properly-tied shoe. buck's acts of service <3 i love fics of buddie doing Totally Normal Friend Things hehe

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buck's lonely and eddie knows. i love fics that go no no this man's not gonna be lonely anymore and this is exactly that <3

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the buckley parents are visiting LA for jee's 4th birthday. which is fine, except they don't know two things: 1. buck has hearing aids again, and 2. he's engaged to eddie. hard of hearing buck series my beloved <3 i love eddie's interactions with the buckley parents and the maddie convo!!

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the Buddie roommates fic where Buck’s apartment burns down, Christopher teaches him Gen-Z slang, and Buck finally snaps. the buck and chris slang bit never fails to cheer me up!

You Ran Outside and Caught the Moon | yoddream/@yoddream | 47.8k | M

Eddie wants to tell him that it only happened yesterday, but then he thinks about quarantine, and when Shannon died, and when she left for LA after he was discharged, and when he found out Chris was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, and when Shannon told him she was pregnant, and when he was ten and his dad yelled at him for crashing his new truck because his mom was in labor and nobody was around to take her to the hospital. He thinks about how he wanted to disappear every time, wished for something to kill him so that he didn’t have to face his fears, deal with reality. It hits him like his dad’s truck hit the tree. mind the tags for this one but it's such a fantastic character study and exactly the fic i needed this week <3

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle's recs #fic rec list #a bunch of good ones again <3 #scheduling this a day in advance cause i’ll be super busy rip but enjoy!!

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years ago

Text

The Ultimatum | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! I've been BUSY as fuck with school lately, y'all. It is truly a nightmare. I'm talking tests on tests on tests on finals on finals. But I'm almost done with the semester and I FINALLY finished this fic that I've been working on for-fucking-ever. It's got the angst and the yearning and the pain with a happy ending, which is my fave. Thanks for reading and thanks for being patient while I suffer through school :)

Word count: 9.6k

Find the sequel HERE!

Warnings: implied emotional abuse, manipulative boyfriend, anxiety, general sad vibes (but happy ending, as always <3)

At this point, Bucky had almost forgotten how to react to a knock at the door. He stood almost frozen, not quite recognizing the sound of knuckles against the wood. It seemed to him like a foreign, otherworldly occurrence. Like something newsworthy, something he’d see on the front page. He didn’t ever get visitors- well, at least not anymore.

It struck him as odd, the thought of an unsolicited visitor dropping by- and so late; it was almost eleven. And though he didn’t feel like making small talk with the old lady who lived across the hall, he figured he should open the door. Maybe his elderly neighbor needed help. Maybe she locked herself out and needed somewhere to wait for the landlord. And who was he to ignore her? She was always sweet. She treated him not like a monster, but a human being. And to Bucky, that was a novel experience- something worthy of backpay. So, if she needed to hang around his apartment for a while until the landlord arrived to unlock her door, he’d let her.

But when he opened the front door, he didn’t find old Mrs. Beverly. A sharp inhale barreled into him at the sight of you waiting on his welcome mat, the same one that you always joked about; you told him time and time again he should’ve called it a “go away mat”.

Everything inside Bucky came screeching to a halt. No heartbeat, no thoughts. Just shock. A rush of goosebumps flashed over his skin at the mere sight of you within arm’s reach once again. An immediate smile splashed across his face- a smile he hadn’t worn since the last time he saw you. Butterflies swarmed inside his stomach and wriggled into his lungs, their wings constricting his breathing. Seeing you again was the first day of spring after a seemingly never-ending winter. The first rays of sun poking through frost riddled branches and dead leaves. This was salvation.

“You said…” This was harder than you expected. Seeing Bucky again warmed parts of you that you didn’t know had gone cold. Just the sight of him helped you breathe easier. He made you lighter, calmer. He brought you a sense of comfort you stopped searching for months ago. Around him, all your sharp edges softened. But you didn’t know how to talk to him- not anymore. At one time, he was your safe place- the safest place you could imagine. During the bitterest of winters, he was your hearth, your home. You shared a secret language spoken only by the two of you.

But not anymore. Not for a while now.

You weren’t the same person you’d been when you knew him. To some, it was an imperceptible change. But you felt it every day. Missing Bucky wormed its way into your cells, tangling itself with your DNA. It became a building block of your very being. Losing him damaged your soul, leaving the edges frayed and torn.

The stark silence of the empty hallway made Bucky’s ears ring. He stared at you, his mouth slightly ajar, a look of bewilderment on his face. He took in the mascara smeared beneath your eyes, the soaking wet clothes hanging from your body. Only the quiet drip drip drip of water leaving your drenched hair dared disturb the silence.

The words you rehearsed on your way over dissolved. They abandoned you without a trace, leaving only one clumsy sentence in their place. “You said I could always come here if I needed you,” you finally said.

All Bucky could do was nod.

“Well… I need you,” you threw him a sheepish smile. “Can I come in?”

Again, Bucky nodded. His thoughts raced and collided with each other, filling his mind with noise. But he managed an “of course”; he needed you to know you were welcome. Of course, you were welcome. You were always welcome. He just hadn’t had the pleasure of inviting you into his home in what felt like a lifetime.

A deep sigh of relief left your chest. Part of you expected him to slam the door in your face. You squeezed past him, careful not to brush against his clothes and get him all wet- though he wouldn’t have minded. He was just happy to see you again.

The sound of your wet sneakers squeaking across the hardwood set your nerves on edge. But being back in his apartment eased them right away. This space used to be your home away from home, the place you felt most comfortable. Sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you thought about its worn, wood floors or the orange light that poured through the windows at sunset. Just thinking about the way this place cloaked you in safety and warmth remedied your anxious mind and eased you into a peaceful sleep.

Everything sat in nearly the exact same place as the last time you were here. That was just like Bucky- constant, consistent. But as you let your gaze drift over the room, you noticed a few foreign pieces of décor. He’d gotten some new furnishings since you last visited. A cozy-looking blanket lay strewn across the couch. A large armchair- perfect for reading- sat next to the window.

All this time, you worried about Bucky. You wondered how he was getting along, how he was handling things on his own. But he was okay. He made good on his chance at a new life. You only wished you could’ve been a part of it.

A thousand questions swarmed inside of Bucky’s brain. He had so many things to ask you, so much he wanted to catch up on. But one question sat at the top of his list. It was his first priority, his greatest worry: “Are you okay?”

A large huff left your chest, “I got into a big fight with Alex.” Part of you feared you were being dramatic. Bucky would never judge you- you knew he wouldn’t. But showing up out of the blue, late at night, drenched from head to toe because you argued with your boyfriend felt ridiculous. Maybe even pathetic. “He got mad- he didn’t want me to go out with my friends tonight,” you sighed. “Because I didn’t ask him first.”

“Because you didn’t ask him first?” Bucky nearly scoffed, “What- is he your father?” He checked himself immediately. A soft, “sorry” followed his less than subtle dig at your boyfriend, his attempt to assuage his mistake. He didn’t want you to put you on the defensive or make you regret your decision to reach out. Clearly, you needed him. And Bucky wasn’t about to ruin your attempt at seeking help.

But a quiet laugh pushed its way past your lips, easing Bucky’s worries. He always knew how to validate your feelings. “He was just being so-” you dragged your palms down your damp cheeks and thought back on the argument. “He’s so difficult. Sometimes, I feel like I’m on a leash or something. A short leash.”

Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He mulled over his next words, careful not to let another outburst escape without his permission. But a pressing thought jumped through his lips without warning. “Wait- why are you all wet?” Bucky said. “Sorry, I- we absolutely need to talk about what happened. But… you’re soaked. What happened?”

With a swipe of your hand, you rid your forehead of a few water droplets that tried to escape your hairline. “Well, it’s pouring,” you gestured toward the rain-spattered window. “And I walked here.”

His eyes went wide, “you walked here? From your place?”

You nodded.

Your demeanor was all too casual for Bucky. With decent weather- in the daylight- the walk wasn’t that bad. But in a torrential downpour at 11pm, it was dangerous. It was far. “Jesus Christ…” Bucky couldn’t believe you did such a thing. It wasn’t safe- not with the rain, and especially not with the suspicious men that lurked the city streets at night. He thanked the universe you hadn’t been preyed upon on your journey to his apartment. “Why’d you walk?”

“Alex wouldn’t give me my purse,” you punctuated your sentence with the crossing of your arms. “We were fighting about me going out with my friends. And then things kinda blew up and he took my fucking purse.” The anger smoldering in your chest scorched through every blood vessel, broiling your cells. “He thought that if I didn’t have my keys or my wallet, he could stop me from going out.”

Bucky matched your eye roll with one of his own. He could practically see the short leash you mentioned only moments ago. He couldn’t believe Alex took your things. Well, he could believe it- he just didn’t want to imagine you in such a situation. It seemed to Bucky that Alex wanted to keep you locked away like a princess in a tower; and Alex played the role of the fire-breathing dragon.

“And then I missed out on dinner and dancing with the girls anyway cause our argument blew up.” A swift sadness snuffed out your sizzling rage. “So, I guess he won after all…” This night out with your friends was the one thing keeping you sane the past few weeks. Every time Alex did something to hurt you, to disrespect or belittle you, you thought about seeing your friends. About having a glass of wine or two and spending a few hours with the women in your life. You wanted to hear about their promotions, their wedding planning, their upcoming vacations. But most of all, you wanted their comfort.

And he stole that from you.

Bucky wanted to wring Alex’s neck. He wanted to make him disappear. He wanted to cut you free from the cement blocks Alex tied to your feet. But the sharp shiver that rocketed through your body put those thoughts on pause.

“Here, let’s get you some dry clothes to change into, alright?”

“Oh… that’s-” You shook your head. Sure, you wanted to change out of your sopping wet clothes and into something cozier. But you didn’t deserve Bucky’s kindness or concern. Not anymore. You couldn’t let him do this for you, not after you showed up unannounced. Not after what you did. “That’s okay. I’m fine. Really.”

But Bucky clocked the shaking in your fingers, the way you fought to keep your teeth from chattering. “Come on, it’s okay.” He reached for your icy hand and gave it a squeeze, only for a brief second. But it was enough to warm you from the inside out. “We both know you’re freezing. Just let me give you something to wear for a while. Okay?” He sensed the trepidation in your expression, the way you avoided eye contact. “It’s not an imposition or anything like that- just a friend helping a friend.” The patience and understanding behind his warm smile was so genuine, so authentic- you couldn’t help but believe him.

And though you knew it wasn’t right to accept his kind gesture, you couldn’t help yourself. The cold pierced through your bones and chilled you to the very soul- you weren’t strong enough to resist his offer. And, selfishly, you wanted to wrap yourself in Bucky’s clothes. They were always cozier, more comfortable than your own. The fabric seemed to hang on to his warm scent; you never realized you could miss a smell so much until it vanished from your own clothes. Your hair.

“Um, okay. Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

Your acceptance of his offer made Bucky beam- but you were still stuck on him referring to you as a friend. After all this time, after what you did to him, you couldn’t believe he’d still regard you with such affection.

You slipped out of your sneakers and socks and followed Bucky down the familiar hall to his bedroom. The memories embedded in these walls were your favorite days. Your most comfortable nights. Coming back to Bucky’s place allowed you to visit them all once again- something you never permitted anymore. Conjuring those memories brought you the greatest comfort and the sharpest, most soul-crushing pain. Seeking salvation in the past only served to remind you that Bucky was no longer part of your present, nor your future. And that hurt worse than any gunshot wound.

Just to be safe, you secured those happy memories in vault and buried it deep inside your mind, never allowing them to escape or see the light of day.

But it was a crushing loss.

“So, um… why didn’t you call?” Bucky looked over his shoulder for a split second, as though to make sure you were following him. “I would’ve picked you up, that way you wouldn’t have had to walk in the rain…”

Of course, he would’ve. He would’ve given his remaining arm for you.

You pulled at your soaking wet t-shirt, desperate to distract yourself. This was too awkward, too pathetic.

“I was afraid that…” You cleared your throat. “I um, I didn’t think you’d answer. Cause of what I did.” The wet hem of your t-shirt gave you little relief as you picked at its stitching to stem the anxiety. “I thought it was better if I just- you know, if I just came here. If I just showed up.” You rolled your eyes at your own logic, “if I called, there was a chance you wouldn’t answer.”

Bucky shook his head, “I would’ve-”

“I didn’t wanna chance it,” you said. “Cause if you blocked my number and that’s how I found out, I might’ve walked into traffic.”

Bucky knew you too well, knew you were making a joke to hide your very real fear of his rejection. “Well, I didn’t block your number,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know how.” And before you could spiral, Bucky turned to face you. “I would’ve answered. I will always answer.” His words were so genuine, so steadfast, that you nearly stopped breathing.

“I think I knew that…” you said, your voice almost imperceptible. “I think it scared me.”

Even after all this time apart, he remembered the way your voice grew thin when shame got the best of you. If he were being honest, he thought about the sound of your voice every day.

He knew you well enough to know when you were nervous. When you couldn’t stand to make eye contact. And so, he turned his back to you and continued in the direction of his bedroom, giving you a moment to yourself.

“Here we are,” Bucky pushed open his bedroom door and gestured for you to enter, allowing you to go ahead of him. But he sensed your hesitation, your uneasiness. He clocked it in the way your eyes just missed his, the way your fingers pulled at the fabric of your shirt. The two of you stood there in the hallway, stalling outside his bedroom door as though trapped in wet cement. Bucky broke free first.

“Alright, let’s find you something comfortable!” He dipped his words in positivity and

threw a too-cheery affectation on top for good measure. He just wanted to make you feel more at ease, more relaxed. But he knew a dry shirt and some sweatpants couldn’t fix the damage Alex did.

It was more than that, though. Bucky could feel the uncomfortable tension radiating off you like rays of the sun. You didn’t know how to act around him now, didn’t know how to navigate the crumbled ruins of your relationship. It was obvious. You didn’t readily enter his bedroom- how could you? You didn’t feel entitled to that space- or any space of his- anymore. And Bucky was going to change your mind or die trying.

“Okay, so you definitely need a pair of socks…” He rifled through his top drawer until he found a pair thick enough to keep you warm.

“And sweatpants? Yeah?” He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your approval.

You nodded. You’d accept anything he gave you- or didn’t give you. You didn’t have the right to his help, his clothes, or his comforts.

But he pushed on. Happily. He scrounged around the shelves in his closet and in his dresser drawers, searching for a pair that would fit.

And as he dug through seemingly every article of clothing he owned, you gave the room a once over. He’d gotten a small, slightly shabby bookshelf in the time since you last saw the place. An army of novels with cracked spines and distressed covers lined the warped wood like soldiers protecting him from the nightmares. He still only had one pillow, and his sheets were the same dark gray cotton. But his bedspread was new; it was the same one you advised he get for the colder months. At the time, he said he didn’t need anything heavier than the thin blanket that adorned his bed. And you knew it was just another way for him to punish himself, to refuse even the slightest comfort.

But the insulation in his cheap apartment did nothing to provide a reprieve from the biting winter. And clearly, he caved to your recommendation- even after things between you went south. A small smile crept across your face at the thought. At least you’d been able to help him in some way or another. Because of you, he stayed warm. He protected himself from the frigid temperatures. It eased your conscience, no matter how slightly.

“I think these will work…” Bucky held a pair of sweatpants up to your body. “I mean, they’re still gonna be way too big, but they’re the smallest pair I have.” He outstretched his hand and offered them to you, “we can tie the waist really tight and roll ‘em up so they’re not too long- don’t want you to trip.”

You hesitated for only a moment, unable to resist the dry, warm fabric of his worn sweats.

“Oh- you need a top,” he said, making his way toward the closet once again, “I have just the thing…” He reached up toward the top shelf of his closet in search of something; and before he had the chance to show you, you realized just what he was looking for.

It was what you used to wear at Bucky’s as makeshift pajamas or when it got too cold. He used to say it was yours just as much as it was his. Back then, you slept over by accident a few times a week. Sometimes, he needed you late at night. Sometimes, he just needed you to be there while he slept- he was more comfortable that way. You always made him feel safe. But after one too many nights of you struggling to sleep in uncomfortable clothes, Bucky presented you with this very sweatshirt. He wanted to give you something- anything- to make you more comfortable. And so, he dug around his closet for his coziest, most comforting crewneck.

It came in handy every time the heating failed and the shotty insulation left you chilled to the bone. Bucky always pulled it out for you and watched with a smile as you tugged the soft, gray fabric over your head. Sure, the heat at your apartment worked great. At home, you didn’t have to dress in layers or drink endless ups of scalding hot tea to keep warm.

But some days, Bucky couldn’t stand to leave the house. And you couldn’t let him rot away all alone. So, you made your way to his place, in rain or snow, and sat with him. Talked with him. Made him tea and brought him food.

He hadn’t been able to touch that sweatshirt ever since you left. Didn’t even want to look at it. But he kept it clean for you- just in case.

“Is this okay?” Memory after memory of you accepting this very sweatshirt flashed through Bucky’s head. It used to be a routine of sorts, but it felt foreign now.

Something in you nearly cracked. This whole thing was too much. It seemed like you’d been dropped into a film about your own life, and someone behind the camera forced you to play out this scene just to hurt you. It made you ache for before. Before you left, before things fell apart, before you made the decision you knew was wrong.

Bucky stared at you, an expectant look on his face. He waited for you to take the relic of the better days you once shared, hoping it would bring them back to life.

But you hesitated. You eyed the garment, fearing the fabric would send you into a spiral. The threads were heavy with memories. And after everything you did, who were you to accept this gesture of goodwill?

“This is- I really appreciate it. But…” you refused the sweatshirt. And instead, tried to hand the sweatpants and socks back to Bucky. “I can’t accept all this. It’s not-”

“Yes, you can.” Bucky’s words were definitive. He allowed no room for arguments. “You’ll be a lot warmer.” He offered you a gentle smile and once again stretched the sweatshirt in your direction. “Get changed and we can put your clothes in the dryer,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be right outside.”

A nod and a quiet “thank you” were all you could muster. And as Bucky left the room and shut the door, you wondered how he could possibly treat you so kindly after what happened. Ever since you left, you berated yourself daily. It was part of your routine now, almost like you’d penciled it into your calendar. The guilt kept you up at night and distracted you during the workday.

But Bucky was a good person. And he’d never hate you the way you hated yourself.

Slipping into his sweatshirt felt almost criminal. You saved it for last, choosing first to shimmy into his sweatpants and wrap your feet in his warm socks. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right- none of this was right. Allowing Bucky to treat you with such hospitality, such care, wasn’t fair to him- not after what you put him through. But as you tugged his sweatshirt over your head, your selfishness eclipsed that feeling of wrongdoing.

It was just as you remembered it- oversized but not massive. Warm but not suffocating. The worn fabric eased over your skin and cloaked you in the kind of comfort you knew you didn’t deserve. And for the first time since you left, you experienced genuine comfort.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky was waiting for you in the hall, just like he said he would. “I’ll take those,” he took your wet clothes and nearly recoiled at just how cold the fabric felt against his skin. You must’ve been miserable- and yet, you’d tried to refuse the dry clothes he offered. His heart broke for you all over again. He tossed the piled of sopping fabric into the dryer and shot you a kind smile.

Bucky stared at you as the machine began to rumble; part of him wondered if this was real. He’d had plenty of dreams about this moment, about your return to his life. But none were ever this real, this believable. And as he observed you standing there in his old sweatshirt, he decided that if this was all some strange, lucid concoction of his psyche, he never wanted to wake up.

But the trembling in your hands caught his attention once again, pulling his smile into a deep frown. The warm, dry clothes did their best to shake the chill, but to no avail.

“Let me make you some tea,” Bucky gestured toward the kitchen. “I have some-”

“Oh, that’s okay.” You tucked your shaking hands into the long sleeves of Bucky’s sweatshirt, flashing him a forced smile. “I’ll warm up in a minute.”

His old, familiar eyeroll brought a real smile to your face with ease. The two of you fell back into your old habits, your old way of relating, far too easily. Before you left, he always tried to give you things or do things for you when you hung out at his place. He knew his apartment was shitty, that you gave up time with your friends and boyfriend for him. And to compensate, he always had an offer in his back pocket: tea, takeout, baked goods from the place down the street. He had to make up for the burden he placed on you. And every time, you refused. The two of you would fake argue and banter until you finally conceded. And, with a smile, he’d make you a cup of tea or braid your hair the way Shuri showed him.

You knew how much it meant to him to be able to give you something in return for your kindness- no matter how many times you told him your friendship wasn’t transactional.

“I’m making you some tea, d-” Bucky caught himself, cutting off the word that rested on the tip of his tongue. He knew he shouldn’t call you ‘doll’ anymore. With a forced clearing of his throat, he pivoted. “I have some jasmine. Is that still your go-to?”

You nodded. Deep within you, an ache for your old nickname stirred.

Bucky busied his hands with mugs and sugar and spoons. He always kept your favorite jasmine tea on hand, just in case. It stayed in the cupboard, front and center, ready for your return. But the box sat untouched. He hadn’t made any- not since you left. Just the smell of it was enough to break his heart all over again.

Every time he opened that cabinet, your tea stared back at him. And though seeing it threw him back in time and punched him in the gut with longing, he couldn’t get rid of it. Throwing it out would mean that you’d never come back, and he couldn’t accept that.

Bucky put the kettle on and tiptoed into rocky territory. “So, can I ask…” he toyed with a spoon, avoiding eye contact, “why didn’t you call an Uber or something?”

A pang of embarrassment jolted through you like lightning. Admitting the truth of your relationship only served to make you feel stupid. You’d lost count of the number of times your friends gasped or booed when you told them about something Alex did or said. And though you knew that the urge to hide his less-than-loving tendencies was a blood red flag in and of itself, you couldn’t help it.

But you didn’t have to hide with Bucky. Ever.

“I deleted my rideshare accounts,” you sighed. “Or- Alex did. He doesn’t like me using them cause he doesn’t trust that I won’t-”

You cut your next thought off at the knees. Months ago, Alex confronted you about your use of ride share apps. He suspected you of cheating, of sneaking away. His words dripped with contempt as he spat accusation after accusation your way, never stopping to listen to the truth. Sometimes, you needed a ride to work. Or to your sister’s house. But he didn’t care. “I know you’ve been going to see him- to see Barnes,” he’d said, “I know you’ve been going to see that psycho.”

That night, while you slept, he deleted your Uber and Lyft accounts and forbade you from ever downloading the apps again.

“He also cut up my Metro card,” you said, your voice quieter now. Admitting these things felt traitorous. Treasonous. Like giving intel to the opposing side. Alex didn’t like Bucky. And Bucky didn’t like Alex- rightfully so. Spilling your guts supplied Bucky with enough ammo to destroy the man you supposedly loved. But Bucky didn’t fire a single shot.

He, instead, wrangled his negative thoughts about Alex and locked them away for the time being. The strong urge tear your shitty boyfriend apart rattled inside Bucky’s brain. It clawed and thrashed at the bars of the cage in which Bucky trapped it. Talking shit about your boyfriend, while satisfying, wasn’t important. You were Bucky’s top priority. He needed to make sure you were comfortable, that you felt safe. There was something in the way you spoke about Alex; a not-so-subtle tinge of anxiety- of fear- that tarnished every word you said about him. And thinking about the cause turned Bucky’s stomach.

He just wanted to be there for you, whatever that meant. If you needed to vent, Bucky would listen. If you needed to cry, he’d offer you his shoulder. And if you needed to sit in silence, drinking your tea, and pretending your boyfriend didn’t exist for a while, Bucky would join you in the quiet.

“Oh. Um…” Bucky didn’t know what to say. His anger toward your boyfriend boiled under the surface, but he didn’t dare let it overflow. Instead, he pulled the kettle from the stove just as it started to sing. “Well… I’m glad you made it here safely,” he said. It was all he could think of.

You shrugged, “I kinda ruined your Saturday night, though.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave you a laugh, “you could never ruin my night.”

Without a second thought or a moment’s pause, he prepared your tea just the way you liked it. Even after all this time, even after the issues with his memory, he never forgot. He delivered a perfect splash of milk, a flawless dose of sugar. It was as though he’d done this just yesterday- and all the days before.

“Plus, do you really think I had plans tonight?” Bucky said as he handed you your tea.

“Hey, I don’t know…” you sipped your tea; it was even the perfect temperature. “Maybe you’re a real social butterfly now. Maybe you have a weekly poker game or plans with Sam.” You shrugged, “maybe you have a girlfriend.”

Things fell quiet after that. Bucky sipped at his tea. You scratched absentmindedly at the tile counter. Neither of you knew what to say or how to say it. And it crushed you. Before, the conversation between you and Bucky flowed so easily, so smoothly. You read each other’s’ minds and anticipated nearly every word. And in the silences, things were comfortable. Cozy. Content.

This was awkward, tense. It sent a shiver up your spine.

“You’re still freezing.” A worried scowl carved a deep line in Bucky’s forehead. “Come on, let’s get you under a blanket, okay?” He wrapped an arm around you back- loosely- and guided you toward the living room.

The gesture almost made you tear up. Bucky was always so kind. So gentle and soft and warm. It was a warmth you hadn’t experienced in a long time. But part of you almost wanted to distrust his kindness. It seemed to you like an omen, a kind of warning. Or even a trap. At home, sweet gestures like these always meant trouble brewing beneath the surface. They led to shouting and crying. To accusations and fear and distrust.

They came with a catch.

Bucky didn’t.

He simply held your tea while you got comfortable on the couch. He wrapped you in a blanket and asked if you wanted another. And when he was confident that you were, indeed, warming up, he joined you.

“This might sound pathetic,” Bucky said as he settle into his spot on the couch, “this is the best night that I’ve had in a really long time.” He knew you were only in his home due to unfortunate, unkind circumstances. He knew he shouldn’t be celebrating your showing up sopping wet at his apartment late at night, not when he knew what made you do so.

But he so was happy to see you.

Things fell quiet after that. You left all of your peace behind the last time you left Bucky’s apartment. You ripped it from your chest and piled it in a corner, abandoning it for your new life. Sure, it hurt. And it left you feeling empty. But it had to be done, didn’t it?

All your life, people emphasized the importance of marriage. Of settling down. They told you that relationships are always hard, that they aren’t like fairytales. And so, you accepted Alex’s empty promises and twisted definition of love. And even when you expressed to your parents that you weren’t sure about Alex, they talked you into staying with him. They cited your age, how difficult it would be to find a husband as you got even older. They scared you into accepting less than you deserved. They scared you into leaving Bucky behind.

Yes, it was you who ultimately made the decision to end your friendship with the kindest person you’d ever known. But you knew you’d never let go of the grudge you held against those in your life who convinced you to settle for Alex. To cut Bucky out of your life. They robbed you of so much time with him, time you’d never get back. And just the thought of all those lost days sent you into deep, endless grief.

Bucky spoke up after a while, “Do you wanna talk about it?” He didn’t want to pry or come on too strong; something in him feared it would scare you off. If this was where you sought solace, if this was where you felt safest, who was he to disturb your newfound sense of peace?

“You don’t have to,” he said, “but you can if you want.”

You did want to talk to Bucky about what happened. You wanted to spill your guts and vomit every less than blissful detail about your life with Alex. Talking to your girlfriends was nice and of course, your therapist was helpful- but there was something about Bucky. He was the only person who really understood you, who could read between the lines and grasp the feelings you struggled to put into words.

But pulling at that thread was dangerous. You’d already tugged at a few pieces, unraveled some shameful details about how things were at home. And if you gave that frayed thread another yank, you feared that every damaged, knotted strand would fall on full display at Bucky’s feet. The prospect scared you more than your late-night walk to Bucky’s.

And who were you to dump your relationship issues on him, anyway? Who were you to disappear with barely any warning, only to show up and vent on his couch? It wasn’t right- none of this was right. Sure, parts of this night were irreversible. You were already there, wearing his clothes, drinking his tea, and sitting on his couch. But you could stop yourself from burdening him any further. You could sew up your leaky wounds and snap your mouth shut, saving him from any more of your grief.

You sidestepped his offer, “No, it’s okay- catch me up on things with you. I wanna know everything.”

Bucky gave you a look. Even after all your time away, he could still read you like the Sunday paper. He knew how badly you needed to simply let go, to unburden yourself. But he knew you wouldn’t.

Your reluctance to share wasn’t a question of his listening skills or your level of comfort with him; it was the shame. He could practically see the guilt oozing from your pores. You didn’t feel as though you deserved to bare your soul to him. It was obvious, perfectly illustrated in the way you yanked your lips into a tight smile each time he looked at you. Showing up at his place unannounced after a seemingly eternal bout of radio silence was one thing. But dumping your problems in his lap? Burying him under your relationship drama? That was simply not allowed.

And so, he told you all about his life- the version that didn’t include you. He told you about the missions he’d been on and the injuries he sustained. The amends. The shitty, court appointed therapist who treated him more like a criminal than a client. The boat he fixed up with Sam. The old man with whom he ate lunch every week.

He almost seemed happy. Almost. He actually had a life now. A friend who wasn’t also a coworker. He went on a date. Sure, there were things to be desired. He still had nightmares. Anxiety. He still wrestled with the ghosts of his past and the fear of his future. But he was doing better. And while it was all you ever wanted for him, it stung knowing you didn’t get to see him make these strides in real time.

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” you said when he finally finished. “I gotta know more about your lunch dates with this Yori guy- that is adorable.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed his first genuine laugh in months. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I met him as part of my amends, but I-”

A harsh knock at the door cut him off. Both your eyes and Bucky’s slid in the direction of the sound. And though neither of you said a word, the air in the room changed. It grew thick and heavy, weighted down with an almost sickening dread.

Bucky locked eyes with you, his stare tunneling through your skull.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, keeping his voice low.

You nodded.

A guttural groan clawed and kicked at your throat, but you refused to set it free.

His voice was low, his volume calculated, “We’ll just be quiet.” Bucky glanced at the door once more, waiting for another round of knocks. “He won’t know we’re here, okay?”

You could barely hear him over the hum of the fridge, the sounds of the city. You gave a slow, subtle nod, fearing the sound even the slightest motion might make.

“I know you’re in there, Barnes,” Alex’s voice punched through the door. “I saw your bike downstairs.” He knocked again, his knuckled booming against the door. Your blood stopped in its tracks. You could’ve sworn you felt it settle in your veins.

Bucky stood from the couch with a nearly silent, “It’s okay”. He hated the way your face dropped, the way your knuckles changed color as you gripped the pillow in your lap.

“Barnes!” Alex practically growled through the door, “open up!”

“Come with me.” Bucky’s voice was barely audible, but still the most comforting sound you’d ever heard. He helped you from the couch, steadying you as the anxiety sent tremors through your every nerve. He guided you to his room with quiet, careful steps. He noted the way you yanked your shoulders upward, the way you kept your eyes on the floor.

Bucky hated the effect Alex had on you. He turned you into a hollow, fragile version of yourself that Bucky found nearly unrecognizable. He chipped away at your confidence and self-esteem, using precise, masterful blows to your weakest points. He reduced you to a pile of dust and shards of your old self.

Bucky wished to turn Alex into nothing but a memory.

“Just stay in here till he’s gone. Don’t come out,” Bucky said once you reached his room. He rested a palm to your cheek for the briefest of seconds, “I’m gonna take care of it, okay?”

And before you had a chance to relish in the warmth of his skin against yours, he vanished.

His footsteps grew more distant as he made his way to the front door. With each centimeter he put between the two of you, you grew more anxious, more uncomfortable. He was your safety blanket, your rock. Without him, you’d learned to cope. You survived. But you never truly thrived. And now that you got your fix of him, being without him for even a second left you unable to breathe.

Bucky opened the door, feigning a look of surprise, “Alex- wow, hey. How are you? Haven’t seen you in-”

“Cut the bullshit. I’m not in the mood.” Alex’s tone sliced clear through Bucky’s attempt at casual levity. “Where is she?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “What?”

You could practically see Alex rolling his eyes, curling his hands into fists. “Don’t gimme that- you know what I’m talking about.”

Bucky gave pause and shook his head. “I really don’t…” Part of him feared he may be doing too much. He knew he had to perfectly toe the line without overplaying his role of ‘confused ex-best friend’. The last thing he wanted was to fuck this up, to let it slip that he was harboring you in his home. He knew it would be bad for you, that Alex would make your life a living hell if he found out. And he was damn sure not going to let that happen. “Is everything okay, man? It’s pretty late.”

Alex’s glare tunneled through Bucky’s skull, “Where’s my girlfriend, James?”

It wasn’t a question- but an accusation.

“What do you mean?” Bucky coatedhis words in a thick layer of concern. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s-” Alex huffed. He was over it. His paper-thin patience shredded into sharp, tiny pieces. “I know you know where she is. I know she probably called you or something.”

“She didn’t-”

A knowing look crossed Alex’s features and quickly devolved into one of betrayal, of disgust. “Is she here- she’s here isn’t she?”

Bucky’s heart sank into the swirling pit in his stomach. He couldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t ruin the sanctuary you sought in his home. This was your safe place, your peace. And he had to protect it. “Is she here? No. Why would she be here?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I haven’t seen her.” Bucky raised his hands in surrender, “We haven’t spoken in- she hasn’t contacted me in over a year.” Saying the words out loud hit him in a way he hadn’t expected. It prodded at him like a fireplace poker, hot from the flames. God, he missed you.

“Right…” Alex rolled his eyes. “Of course. Just fuckin… whatever, man. If you so happen to see her, tell her to get home. Soon.” He turned on his heel and backed out of Bucky’s doorway, a snide look on his face.

Bucky wanted to separate Alex’s head from his body. This man didn’t wish for your homecoming as a concerned boyfriend. He didn’t hope for your safe return or ask for help finding you. Not a sliver of worry even came close to piercing his arrogant, callous surface. He’d let you spill out onto the late-night streets, hurt and distraught, as a torrential downpour drowned the city. He didn’t care that you had no means of transport. No wallet. He didn’t care that your clothes didn’t protect you from the freezing rain.

And he walked away from Bucky cocky. He left threats hanging in the air. He wanted you home as a means of control. Of punishment.

But at least he was gone. He stalked off, mumbling something about you “learning your lesson”. It made Bucky nauseous. He wanted to keep you in his apartment for as long as possible. At least, that way, he’d know you were out of Alex’s reach.

He didn’t want to think about how your return home would play out, how Alex would treat you when you finally walked through the door. Something- a lot of things- about Alex didn’t sit right with Bucky. Alex struck him as a manipulator, a narcissist. Someone to fear. He could understand why you’d walk far too many blocks in the freezing, torrential rain just to get away.

Bucky shut the door and turned the deadbolt. He secured the chain. Even checked through the peephole to make sure Alex hadn’t returned. He couldn’t be too careful- not when you were involved. “Alright, he’s gone,” Bucky called as he headed in your direction. “He’s an intense guy, I didn’t-”

But as Bucky entered his bedroom, he found it empty. “He’s gone, I swear. You don’t have to hide anymore.” Bucky popped his head into the closet and bathroom but found no sign of you. “Hey, where’d you go?”

The sound of the dryer door, however, tipped him off.

He discovered you in his small laundry room, retrieving your clothes from the dryer.

“Oh, I don’t think those are all the way dry yet. You know this thing is kinda old,” he gave the dryer a gentle kick. “You should probably leave your stuff in there a little while longer.”

You didn’t answer.

Bucky watched you fish your underwear out of the bottom of the dryer. He offered to help when your shirt got tangled with your shorts. But you stayed quiet. You kept your back to him and your gaze downcast, focused on the wet fabric in your hands.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Bucky placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know Alex showing up wasn’t exactly ideal, but he’s gone. And I-”

Without a word, you turned to face him; only then did he notice the tears streaming down your face. They met under your chin and curved down your neck, dampening the fabric of Bucky’s sweatshirt. He’d never seen a more sorrowful, gutted expression cross your face- save for the last time he saw you.

Sharp, shallow inhales shook in and out of your chest. And even if you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to meet his eyeline.

“Oh no-” Bucky’s heart shattered. His chest tightened and his stomach dropped. He hated seeing you upset, seeing you cry. Immediately, he wondered what he’d done to make you feel this way.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice was gentle, his tone soft. He didn’t demand an answer, like Alex so often did. No, he simply helped guide your words to the surface. He was patient and understanding as you caught your breath, didn’t make any condescending comments about your emotions. Bucky was always kind, always empathetic. He never rushed you. Never forced you to speak before you were ready.

And when you finally found your words, they came out quiet, shameful. “I heard what you said…”

Bucky quickly ran through his conversation with Alex and came up empty. What did he do? What did he say that hurt you like this? But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the answer. “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I- what did I say?”

“About us not talking-” You lifted your head, showing Bucky your red, glassy eyes. “About me not contacting you for over a year.”

Bucky shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I was just-”

“I shouldn’t be here.” You dropped your damp clothes on top of the washer and tugged at the knots Bucky tied in your sweatpants. “I shouldn’t be wearing your clothes-” You struggled to free yourself from the tightly knotted drawstring. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you. And I shouldn’t- I just shouldn’t be here.”

A low groan rumbled out of your throat as you gave up untying Bucky’s skillful knots. All you wanted was to get out of his clothes, out of his apartment, and out of his hair. A storm of guilt and shame pummeled you, drowning you in regret. Coming here was wrong. Selfish.

“I have no right to be here,” you said, slumping against the dryer and sliding to the floor. “I have no right to come to you for help.”

“What do you- Yes, you do.” Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Of course, you do. You will alwayshave the right to be here.”

Another tidal wave of tears poured down your cheeks. Bucky was so kind- too kind- to you. Too forgiving. Too understanding. Too good. All you could do was shake your head and apologize. Vehemently.

“I’m so sorry…” you said, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky took the spot next to you on the floor, close enough for you to feel his familiar body heat. “You don’t have to be sorry-”

“Yes, I do- I fucked up. I chose him.” You dried your tears with the sleeve of the sweatshirt Bucky held onto just for you. “He gave me an ultimatum and I- I chose wrong.”

Bucky took your hand in one of his but didn’t speak. He simply let you ride out your latest wave of guilt and grief. He swiped this thumb over your knuckles every now and then, keeping you grounded. And when you finally caught your breath, he spoke.

“I don’t think… I don’t think it was ever about you choosing between dating Alex or being friends with me,” he said. “You needed to choose yourself. To choose what was best for you, what would make you happy. And at the time,” Bucky shrugged, “you thought being with him was for the best. So that’s what you did. I can’t fault you for that-”

You scoffed. It came out ugly, bitter, full of the disdain and contempt you held for yourself. “But I knew who he was. Even then.”

Bucky shrugged, “they call ‘em rose colored glasses for a reason-”

“Stop!” Your voice violently bounced off the walls of the small laundry room. “Stop making excuses for me- I want you to be mad at me!” Desperation clawed at your throat. You ripped your hand from Bucky’s, too overwhelmed by the kindness you didn’t deserve. “Be mad at me for abandoning you when I said I never would- be mad at me for being a horrible friend! Be mad at me for being stupid- and selfish!” Your balled up fists landed blows to your legs, your chest. If Bucky wasn’t going to berate you, the least you could do was deliver to yourself a fraction of the pain you deserved.

But two hands- one warm, one cold- wrapped gently around your wrists, stopping the abuse. You locked eyes with Bucky, tears blurring your vision. He’d never seen a look of such intense desperation.

“Just- be mad at me…” you stared at him, pleading. “Please.”

Bucky shook his head, “No.”

“Please… be mad at me. Yell at me. Do something.”

Bucky couldn’t help but think back on the old days. How many times had the two of you sat on the floor of this apartment? How many times had you helped Bucky off the literal and metaphorical ledge when his anxieties grew too strong? How many times had you exorcised the demons Hydra saddled him with? How many times had he tried to punish or hurt himself? And how many times had you stopped him?

Now, it was Bucky’s turn to do the same for you. “I was mad. Does that make you feel better?” He shot you a wink; it pulled the smallest of smiles from deep within you.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, anchoring you to reality, to him. “But I wasn’t mad at you. I was just mad because- because I met you so late in life, you know? And I barely got any time with you. It wasn’t enough for me.” His voice grew thick with longing. He spent so any nights thinking about you, losing sleep over how much he missed you. He often wondered if you missed him, too. Wondered if you thought of him when you took the train or went to the market. Wondered if you ever walked down his street, just because.

“But I was never mad at you. I’ve never been mad at you for pursuing the things with Alex. Or for going along with his ultimatum. I didn’t like it- I didn’t think that it was fair to you, but…” he shrugged. “I wanted- want- you to be happy.”

“But I left you-”

“I’ve lived a long life,” Bucky said. “Too long.”

You squeezed his hand, “I wouldn’t say that- I wouldn’t say ‘too long.’”

You always knew how to make Bucky laugh. “What I mean is… I’m living years that aren’t mine. I was never supposed to have this much time. But these years are meant for you. This is your life. And you’re entitled to go after the things you want.”

“But-”

“No. No ‘but’.” It wasn’t a reprimand, but a reminder. “What kind of friend would I be if I got mad at you for pursuing a relationship with someone you loved?”

“But I didn’t just pursue that relationship-” a harsh flashback of the day you left ripped you apart from the inside out. You remembered refusing Bucky’s invitation inside. Handing him the key he had made for you. You remembered biting back tears as you told him of Alex’s ultimatum, and your subsequent decision to go along with it. You remembered the look of utter heartbreak on Bucky’s face. He was gutted. Torn apart. Seeing him so despondent nearly made you sick. “I cut you off. Completely.”

“I know. But…” he shrugged. “You deserve to go after the things you want. And you wanted him. And I- I just wanted you to be happy.”

A sharp huff left your chest, “But I could’ve been stronger. I should’ve- I should’ve handled things better.” These same words swarmed your mind like angry bees on a daily basis. So many would’ves and could’ves and should’ves launched themselves at you, illustrating everything you did wrong. “I mean, jesus christ, I’m an adult! He gave me an ultimatum- I didn’t have to go along with it. I chose to. I’m in the wrong just as much as he is-”

“Hey- no.” Bucky’s intensity caught you off guard. “Look, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here, but he’s a manipulator. Everything you ever told me about him screamed ‘manipulative’.”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I let him manipulate me-”

Bucky shut you down, “No. No, that’s not how manipulation works. Sure, you chose to be in a relationship with him. But you didn’t choose to be treated like shit. I saw-” Bucky’s free hand scratched at the fabric of his jeans. “I saw the way he acted tonight- if he’s like that all the time, I don’t blame you for going along with his ultimatum.” He grimaced, “I’m sure the consequences would’ve been bad if you chose otherwise.”

Bucky’s level of understanding and empathy almost made you angry. How was he this kind? How could he grant you this much grace? You felt yourself nearly going mad. He sensed the eyeroll, could practically feel your rebuttal bubbling below the surface. And before you could throw another ‘but’ at him, he continued.

“You wanted to be with him. You thought- or hoped- that he was someone better. That’s not a crime. And I’m sure you wish you could go back in time and tell your past self not to get mixed up with him, but-”

“Yeah, but I-” you let loose a deep sigh. “I really just wish I could go back in time and tell past-me to stick with you. Always. To put you first.” A few more tears broke free from your lash line and rolled down your cheeks. “Cause you’re the person I care about most- you’ve always been then one who matters most to me. And I’m sorry I didn’t act like it. I’m sorry I didn’t make that obvious to you.”

“It’s all okay,” he nudged his shoulder with yours, “we’re okay.”

After a few deep breaths, you allowed your body to fall against his. Your head lay on his shoulder, your hands still intertwined. This was always how things were supposed to be: just you and Bucky against the world. No pain, no heartache, no ultimatums. Just trust. Kindness. Empathy.

“I’ve missed you every day,” your voice came out tight, barely audible as your tears made another appearance.

Bucky unwound his hand from yours and opted instead to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I regretted it, you know?” You lifted your head and looked him in the eye with intense urgency, “I regretted it instantly- I knew I shouldn’t have chosen him.”

He gave a simple shrug, “But it’s okay that you did.”

It was going to take some time for you to accept that Bucky didn’t hold a grudge. That he didn’t fault you. And that journey started there, on the floor of Bucky’s laundry room, with your body resting against his.

“I’m glad that… I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer to come back here.” You nestled closer to him, desperate to make up for lost time. “I’m glad it wasn’t too late.”

He stared down at you, confused. “Too late for what?”

“Well, I’m sure you would’ve written me off after a certain point, you know? If I was gone for… five years, or something.” Just the thought of being away from Bucky that long made you miserable. “If I showed up here after all that time, it would’ve been too late for you to forgive me.”

Bucky shook his head, “First of all, you don’t need to be forgiven- you didn’t do anything wrong.” He hated the way you blamed yourself and dismissed your own difficulties over the last year. And he knew you too well to be able to ignore the heartbreak in your eyes, the pain behind your voice. You suffered in your relationship with Alex. He cut you off from your best friend, isolated you, sabotaged your self-esteem. You were a victim, even if you refused to believe it.

“Second of all- and this is important-” Bucky turned to face you dead on, and pressed his forehead to yours. “There is no ‘too late’ with us, doll. Ever.”

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