A Million Summers

a million summers

summary: Something shifts between you and Bucky when he comes back home from college.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: modern AU; childhood friends to lovers; alcohol consumption; making out; the rare occurence of me writing something that's almost exclusively fluff. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: @allcapsbingo O1: "You've changed."

a/n: i didn't plan on posting anything today but something came over me. happy valentine's day, everyone!! this one's for @jesterstrange – remember when you sent me two songs for my sleepover and i completely ignored one of them? this is why 💛

masterlist | read on ao3

The air in the car is buzzing with late night heat and the crackling of the radio rapidly switching between stations, but you can’t seem to mind. Your heart is pounding in tune because less than two hours ago, you were kissing Bucky Barnes.

The Bucky Barnes, whose hand is currently gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. Valedictorian, baseball legend, first boy you ever fell in love with, prodigal third of your trio, Bucky Barnes.

Shit, if Steve found out about this, you’re not sure if he would laugh or kill both of you.

You wonder if the same thing is currently going through Bucky’s mind, because when you steal a sideways glance at him, he’s biting the inside of his lip, like he always does when he’s wrapped in thought.

It’s funny, in a way. You’ve noticed these little things about him since you were eleven years old, innocently collecting tiny facts about James Buchanan Barnes in your mind like other children kept pebbles or leaves they found on a walk. Like how his hair would stick up and begin to curl in his neck when it was about to rain. Or how he always got the first splatter of freckles in May, after months and months of them hiding away from the cold.

They’re there now, dancing across his cheekbones and down the bridge of his nose, and when the sunrise hits them at the right angle, they point out all the places you want to kiss; underneath his eye and on the tip of his nose, and, most importantly, right at the corner of his mouth, where his smile starts.

Your heart still can’t believe he’d actually let you do just that.

(He would, he would. He has.)

Your phone vibrates again and you ignore it. Reality might be on the other end, and you’re not ready for that quite yet.

There’s a slight tick in Bucky’s jaw when you peek at him again, barely noticeable to anyone who doesn’t know him quite as well as you do, and it sets your cheeks on fire. You roll the window down to feel the wind in your hair. Maybe it’ll cool your face a little.

You haven’t talked to each other at all ever since you got in the car, Bucky concentrating on the road, you counting the cars you pass. There’s not a lot of them, not at this hour, so the activity doesn’t exactly help to calm your mind, but you don’t trust your voice enough to start a conversation quite yet.

(Still, he hasn’t let go of your hand since you got in the car, either.)

It’s strange, this silence between you, not uncomfortable but unusual, because even though you’ve filled countless hours just quietly doing your own thing next to one another, it’s never been with this tension that’s making the air between you thick enough to cut.

The radio finally settles on a station, and there’s a spark of recognition at the song that manifests in Bucky squeezing your hand a little more tightly, and you finally break the silence with a quiet laugh and a warning, "Don’t."

"I didn’t say anything," Bucky says with a smile in his voice.

"Your thoughts are very loud."

"My thoughts are none of your business." He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a small kiss to your knuckles. Your breath hitches. "Besides, you were very cute."

"Slow down," you say, "I want to throw myself out of the car."

Bucky has the audacity to laugh. "Come on. Everyone had a phase in middle school."

"Everyone who knew me in middle school needs to die," you groan.

"Is that a threat, Y/L/N?"

You take in his cocky grin, tapping a finger against your chin in fake contemplation. "Maybe."

"Oh yeah?" he says, and you swear his smile grows even more crooked as you echo his words back at him.

(You want to trace it with your fingers and then taste it again.)

"So this is what we’ve come to," he says, his face exaggeratedly appalled as he shakes his head. "You’ve changed."

"I’m afraid there can’t be any exceptions," you say, squeezing his hand. "Especially not if this 'short drive over' takes much longer," you say, turning to the window again. The clouds look heavy with the reminder of rain.

Bucky rubs soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, and the gentleness of the action makes you press your lips together to hide the giddyness threatening to spill over. "Almost there," he says, and continues driving.

A little faster than before, maybe.

***

You’d seen this look in Bucky’s eyes before, but it’d never been directed at you. Pupils blown wide, hair sticking to his forehead, gaze unwavering and so intense you felt like you were being stripped naked in the middle of the crowd.

(And during his own homecoming party, no less.)

You forced your gaze away, trying to focus on whatever story Wanda was telling intently, but it was impossible to do anything other than nodding and humming and taking another sip of your drink whenever there was a breath for you to do so.

When you dared another glimpse in his direction, Bucky was still watching you, even though he was doing a much better job at pretending to listen, one of Steve’s arms still slung around his shoulders, his lips widening into a smile at the same time the rest of the group started to laugh while you were just out of sync with everyone else.

Not that you were staring at his lips.

It’d been so long since you’d last seen him in person. He was supposed to go off to college with Steve, but instead ended up going to an entirely different part of the country, and despite the fact that the three of you once shared every spare minute, there was only so many lagging phone calls at odd hours a friendship like the one you used to have with Bucky could take.

It broke your heart, of course, but maybe it was for the better. After all, your feelings for him had been drifting towards something different to friendship for a while at that point, something softer and more precious, something hidden away in stolen glances and late night journal entries.

Him literally being out of reach had made it easier, in a way, even though you’d never quite managed to move on from the color of his eyes.

(How could you have?)

Now, seeing him right in front of you again, they seemed so much brighter than they did in your memories; like someone had broken off two pieces of a clear summer sky and put them in the center of his face. It was honestly unfair.

You managed to steal away to the upstairs bathroom for a few minutes, not bothering to turn the light on, splashing your face with cold water to try and get a grip on. You weren’t quite drunk, but tipsy enough to recognize the light haze in your eyes as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, angling yourself in the thin strip of moonlight falling in through the window, trying to see if there was anything different about you.

Anything that Bucky might have picked up on tonight, of all nights.

There was a knock at the door, so you quickly fixed your hair with a small sigh and mentally prepared to continue the night with a smile, determined to enjoy yourself, weird and totally not heart palpitation inducing looks from former best friends be damned.

As soon as you swung the door open, though, your confidence was immediately shattered when you almost barreled into someone standing right on the other side, leaning against the frame, hands in his pockets, smile blinding.

Like he’d been waiting for you.

"Y/L/N."

(Your name still sounded like honey on his tongue.)

"Barnes." You raised your eyebrows when he didn’t move to let you pass. "Can I help you with something?"

"Maybe," he said, and then he pulled you back into the room with him, locking the door behind the two of you.

You leaned against it, arms crossed in front of your chest, swallowing heavily. Bucky hovered very close by for a moment before he retreated, pushing both hands through his hair and then hiding them in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Right," you said, your head spinning slightly. "This isn’t ominous at all."

Bucky chuckled quietly, his eyes searching for something. "You look great," he finally said.

With a snort, you tilted your head and looked at his feet, not really believing his compliment. Your fingers were itching to unlock the door and just slip back into the party on the other side, but at the same time, you found you couldn’t move.

(You’d never been able to move away from him.)

"Look at that," you said, nudging your shoe against his. "You haven’t changed."

"Not really."

There was a strange edge to the smile in his voice, like he was trying to swallow something down. Maybe it was more clear on his face, but you couldn’t look up at him.

It was strange, the small details you remembered from years ago. Even when you and Bucky had begun to drift apart (because bottling up your feelings all the time could only ever have gone well for a short while), you would still spend most lunch breaks with him and Steve. How many times had you joined them on the tiny, dried up shrivel of lawn next to the library, being silly together and trying to stretch those thirty minutes into infinity, your sneakers always, always untied.

Steve had sprained his ankle in college when he tripped over his own feet, and so he’d started to tie them like the proper adult he pretended to be, and because the two of them had a habit of always copying the other, you’d just assumed that Bucky would have eventually grown out of the whole thing as well.

(Unlike you.)

Seemed like some things had stayed the same, after all.

And as if that stupid little observation had returned both of you back to the days that were, talking was suddenly so easy. You drifted closer to each other and apart again, like you were moving to a song much slower than the one still audible through the bathroom walls.

Later, you wouldn’t even be able to recall what you’d said. Some teasing remark, probably, a snarky comment like the ones you used to hide your feelings behind when you were fifteen and he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

Whatever it was you’d said, Bucky chuckled again. As if he thought you funny. "I can’t believe I …" He trailed off, shaking his head, dragging a hand through his hair again.

Your eyes tracked the movement. A single curl kept sticking up near the top of his head, like it always had when you both were younger. "You what?" you said, almost entranced by it.

"Nothing," he said, looking over his shoulder like he expected someone to come up to him. There was no one there, but he kept moving like he was struggling against some unseen force.

"You what?" you laughed, thoroughly intrigued now.

He shook his head, but it spilled out anyway, like some tidal wave he couldn’t keep contained. "I used to have a crush on you in high school, alright?"

A pause, a break, a screeching record halt.

"No, you didn’t."

(He didn’t.)

"Uhm, yeah I did." He sighed heavily. "Look, you were never supposed to find out."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you could feel it in your ears. "Why not?"

"Because you’re …. You were my best friend. That was more important." The past tense really shouldn’t have broken your heart the way it did, because you’d known. Of course you’d known.

"And what about now?" you said, your hands clutched tightly around yourself." We’re not best friends anymore, are we? So … what are we now?"

He stared at you very intently, and his voice broke a little when he said, "I’m not sure what you want me to be."

There was a pause, and you realized Bucky’s face had turned even redder. You could barely look away from his eyes, though. It was almost impossible to make out their color in the semi-darkness of the bathroom, but there was a softness to them that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Are you drunk or something?" you asked, feeling very, very sober yourself.

"What?" he said, almost offended by your suggestion. "Of course not."

"Good."

You stared at him for a moment longer, and then you kissed him.

You’d imagined kissing Bucky Barnes so many times before, but the real thing was so much better than even your wildest dreams could have predicted. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and still didn’t want to waste a single second. Your hands circled around his waist to press him ever closer to you, and he made a noise at the back of his throat that made your brain short-circuit.

His hands trailed across your shoulder blades, gently pulling you with him as he took a step backwards and his back hit the wall with a low thud, his mouth never once leaving yours. He tasted like coffee and salt and something that was so distinctly him it took your breath away.

When you finally came up gasping for air, Bucky whined in disapproval, peppering smaller kisses along your cheeks, your jawbone, your neck. You grabbed his shoulder for support as your knees threatened to buckle, the fingers of your other hand grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"Shit, Y/N," he mumbled against your pulse, and the low timbre of his voice was enough to make your eyes flutter shut again. "You’ve got no idea how long …"

He didn’t finish talking, his lips finding yours again with a hum that made your grip on him tighten involuntarily, his hands large and solid around your middle. There was no telling how much time you lost to that kiss. Hours, maybe, an eternity of both of you trying to get as close to each other as possible.

At one point, Bucky tapped your thigh, as if he was trying to get you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist, and you were about to, honestly, but just then you were interrupted by a sudden and incessant knock at the door.

"Whoever’s in there, can you hurry up? There’s a line out here!"

You broke apart with an embarrassed snort. "Just a minute!" you called, somehow managing not to sound quite as short-winded as you felt. You steadied yourself against Bucky’s chest, feeling his heartbeat drum a mad rhythm underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. "I do not wanna go out there," you mumbled.

"Neither do I," he said, and his voice sounded so low and so wrecked you had to kiss him again. Just a small peck on the lips, this time, but you still came up light-headed. "Wanna get out of here?"

(More than anything.)

"I can’t," you sighed apologetically. "Nat’s not even here yet and I told her I’d help with the cake."

"I don’t give a shit about the cake."

You giggled. "I promised, though"

Bucky groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. The person on the other side of the door started knocking again. "She has an hour," he mumbled and sealed it with a quick kiss before you could say anything else. "Tops."

You left that bathroom with your head held high and an incredulous smile on your face. Outside, a clash of thunder shook the window panes.

***

It crosses your mind, then, when the car slows and the gas gauge finally stops blinking, that your younger self would have killed to be in your shoes. Or rather, bare feet pulled up on the passenger seat, Bucky’s fingers entertwining with yours, feeling tired and wide awake at the same time as nervous excitement curls up in your chest.

How many summer night did you use to lie awake in bed, imagining a scenario just like this?

(A million, at least.)

The summer air carries the smell of the ocean, and if you looked out the windscreen, you could probably see the waves crashing against the shoreline as the sun starts to rise, a picture perfect view like something out of a fucking dream. You’re still not quite convinced you haven’t fallen asleep on Wanda’s shoulder earlier in the evening, your subconscious making all of this up out of some long buried yearning from years ago.

You don’t want to look outside, though. You don’t want to look anywhere but at the boy beside you, whose hair is still tousled from your touch and who looks at you like he’s on cloud nine and absolutely terrified at the very same time.

"Do you feel kinda nervous or is it just me?" Bucky says, and you laugh.

"Yes. What’s up with that?"

It’s like the manic, pent up energy that made your kiss in the bathroom feel like you got struck by lightning has vanished from your bodies, making room for something more quiet. More anxious. A question whispered at the back of your mind that makes your hold on his hand tighten.

What now?

(Reality stopped calling a while ago, but it’s only a matter of time.)

"I guess it’s a good sign." Anticipation makes the blue of his eyes shimmer. "Means neither of us wants to fuck this up."

You smile tentatively. "Is there something we could potentially fuck up?"

Bucky swallows, tilting his head. "I hope there is."

(You want to run away with him. You want to stay with him. You’d wait a million summers more to get here.)

"Me too."

When he leans in this time, it’s sweeter than before, slower, less a declaration and more a promise. Neither of you would have to wait anymore.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

mingyu brainrot

More Than You Wanted

Request: HALLO MY DEAR! Welcome back to writing 💛 May I HUMBLY request either 7 or 9 (or both cause we all love that hurt comfort spice) with the one and only Mr. Kim Mingyu? He's moved into bias zone, I am ASHAMED /s

Prompt:

7) "Doesn't matter what happens...if you call me, I will always answer."

9) "I don't want them. I want you."

Prompt list can be found HERE.

Pairing: Seventeen Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst/Steamy

.

The carpet in your apartment building was disgusting. Covered in dirt (at least you hoped that's what the stains were) and always kind of moist, you avoided contact with it at all costs. But now, you were sitting on it. Slumped against the wall behind you with your head in your hands, you were sitting on the world's dirtiest carpet and crying.

It had been approximately two hours since you had contacted your building's repair man, and an hour since you talked to anyone in management. You had locked yourself out and were completely exhausted. All you wanted was to lay down and maybe binge watch your favorite drama. You hadn't signed up for enrichment time outside of your enclosure today.

Cringing as the idea came across your mind, you looked helplessly down at your phone. It would be just so easy to text your ex-boyfriend. The two of you had never met up to exchange each other's things, so he still had your key.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, you lifted up your phone and scrutinized the battery life. It was running below 10% at this point, so if you were going to do it, you needed to suck it up. Scrolling almost to the bottom of your saved text messages, you found Mingyu's name and tapped.

you busy?

That was safe, right? You didn't want to make him worry and you certainly didn't want to inconvenience him. You had done enough of that in your past relationship.

You weren't surprised when you saw typing bubbles appear before you had even locked your phone. Of course, he was going to be hyper available during your crisis.

Depends. What's up?

What a terrible non-response.

i was wondering if you could stop by and drop off my key?

Want me to bring the rest of your stuff?

not if it's not already with you...

"Why would it already be with him?" you muttered. "Please use your one active brain cell before you hit send again."

i just really need my key

Contrary to what you may believe, I have no plans to break into your apartment. Can I drop it off at the end of the week?

You groaned, leaning back and lightly bonking your head repeatedly on the wall behind you.

Resisting the urge to reply with "that's fine" and leave your fate in the hands of your apartment complex, you quickly typed out a message.

i locked myself out of my apartment.

Give me 10 minutes.

Breathing a momentary sigh of relief, you commended yourself. Texting Mingyu had not been easy, but it was a necessary evil for your own mental well-being. Surely you could play nice for approximately 45 seconds while he handed you your key and walked back down the stairs. You had 45 seconds worth of gratitude in your system, didn't you?

Closing your eyes, you tried not to think too hard about seeing him again. Naturally, that had the opposite effect, and you began dragging out memories that you hadn't touched in weeks. Your relationship had started out innocently enough. You had been an English tutor for the entertainment company that Mingyu was signed to and tutored him weekly. After spending hours upon hours with each other, a natural closeness formed between the two of you. While yes, you had been close to all of the artists in one way or another, something with him was different. It was something warmer, something more incendiary.

You found yourself actually paying attention to how you dressed or how you styled your hair. Starting to become overly interested in your personal appearance likely should have been a red flag. You knew better than to start anything with an idol.

Against your better judgement, your sessions quickly turned into flirting for hours. Mingyu was incredibly smart, so it wasn't a surprise when he was ahead in his English lessons. With the spare time, you got to know each other. Finally, one day he asked you out for dinner.

With time, the two of you had become inseparable. That was until the company found out about the burgeoning relationship. It only took days for them to threaten Mingyu until he said he couldn't see you anymore. It came as no surprise that a few weeks later, they had alienated you so entirely that you put in your notice.

"Stupid," you muttered to yourself. "How could you have been so stupid."

"People forget their keys all the time, Y/N," you heard a familiar voice say above you. "Do you know how often I lock myself out of places?"

"But you have twelve other people to rely on," you sighed, opening your eyes. "And I have...well, you."

Mingyu looked down, a sad smile playing over his lips. God, why was he allowed to look so good? You could tell he had showered only minutes ago judging by his damp hair. He had thrown on a pair of fitted joggers and a t-shirt. It should be against the law to make casual wear look so expensive just by being hot.

Using the wall as leverage, you pulled yourself up to stand. "Thanks for doing this. I didn't mean to disrupt your whole afternoon."

"Don't" he said softly, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter what happens...if you call me, I will always answer."

He dug around in his pocket, producing the pink Hello Kitty key you gave him ages ago. It looked so small in the palm of his hand.

"Well anyhow," you said quietly, taking it. "Thanks."

He nodded, signaling the end of the conversation. You went to turn away from him but paused. He wasn't moving.

"Y/N, this whole thing" he motioned between the two of you. "When did this happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did we become strangers?" he sighed. "Because honestly it is hurts so bad."

An unknown feeling of annoyance bubbled up to the surface. "Mingyu, you broke up with me."

"You had to have known that it wasn't really me," he whispered, looking away. "I didn't have much of a choice at the time."

"Whether you did or not, we knew it wasn't going to work out in the long run."

"Don't say that!" he snapped. "I loved you...I still love you."

"Mingyu," you said quietly, deflated by his reaction. "You have millions of people out there wanting you. You're an idol. If your company discourages you dating noncelebrities, that is what it is."

"I don't want them. I want you," he said hoarsely. Stepping closer, he took your face in his hands.

You could feel tears beginning to gather at your lash line. "Mingyu-"

"Let me talk to them. The management team and everyone above and in between. Let me fight for us like I was too scared to do before," he whispered.

You tried to shake your head, but your face remained caught. Reaching up and placing your hands atop his, you sighed. "I wish it were that easy."

"It's not easy at all" he said, furrowing his brows. His eyes searched yours. "Nothing about love is easy. Nothing worth fighting for is easy."

"Mingyu," you whimpered, tears starting to fall. "I just wanted my key..."

"Yeah, well," he breathed. "You're getting more than you wanted for once."

Before you could clock his advancement, Mingyu's lips were on yours. You felt your tears falling even faster as you reached to grasp the fabric of his shirt. Because of you, the kisses were much wetter than normal, but it didn't stop his urgent need. He was manic with his movements; afraid you may slip away at any point. After every labored breath, his lips found yours again and again. Biting, licking, groaning against your mouth, you thought you would simply unravel in the dingy hallway.

Eventually the two of you had to take a break, all of the emotion was just too much. His hands sliding from your face and resting on your hips, he looked down at you, his expression hopeful.

"Why don't you come inside?" you asked nervously, unsure of what would happen moving forward. "We can talk."

"Sure," Mingyu nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. "I'd like that very much."

true definition of “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss”

sorry y’all i probably won’t come out with a fic or drabble until i’m done with most of my assessments. so realistically like a week and a half. love u all, requests are always open 🫶🫶

and here’s my trade in for not writing recently:

Domestic Life Of a Living With a Runaway Assassin. [Intro.]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

Summary: you hate many things in life. you hate soulmates. you hate the avengers. you hate guns. you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can't find yourself hating him

W.c: 2.1K

Series playlist linked here

Author note: this was actually one of my first long form fics I wrote in many years, its carrys a nostalgic feeling and means a lot to me. i wrote it like last October and thought abt kinda rewriting some stuff and posting it here! I thought some of you guys woudk enjoy this story. this is only a short darbble that teases the story, next chapter shows how they met and everything after that. It takes place right after CA:TWS and it’s a soulmate AU!

Masterlist

Soulmates.

The legend goes that when the universe was created and whatever higher power you believed in created humans to have two sets of legs, two sets of arms, and two heads. Now because the world is cruel and no one can have nice things, whoever is in charge up there split us up into two beings but forever being connected by our souls. Spending the rest of our life waiting and searching for our other halves. Never being our true whole selves without them. How poetically tragic.

It turned into a weird way to make money nowadays, you felt like no one really cared about the reality of soulmates now. It was made into shitty romance movies, or stupid scientific searches for your one and only soulmate that was definitely an internet scam. People literally faking soul marks towards celebrities for their one chance with them that their delusional minds make up. 

All just a desperate attempt to feel whole and loved but your one and true person. Always and forever destined to be.

What a touching story. Too bad you think it's all bullshit

No genuinely, you were supposed to believe your life's purpose was to find this one person in the entire universe that matched you, and without them, you what? you were going to be miserable for the rest of your life? The universe is a scam. You had given up on the whole mad search for your other half years ago, you didn't understand why you couldn't go out and find your own partner without having to match up those stupid words on your shoulder. 

“I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

Those stupid words. You hated the idea of soulmates but you couldn't stop yourself from the hours of wondering just what the hell that was supposed to mean. You had no interest in seeking out your soulmate but you could wonder what type of person they may be. Were they really a dangerous person? Would you genuinely not feel safe with the said person when you first meet? Would you even meet them?

Questions had swirled through your head since the day you got it. Those questions had died down a little, you were getting older and most of your peers had already met their soulmates. You noticed soulmates were not just romantic, they came in friendships, some didn't work out, some came between children and parents, and some came through your fire escape at night, covered in blood and knocking down your favorite plants.

With a loud crash, your feet carried you through your new york apartment to your living room. You saw the outline of him crouched down on the floor. “I'm so sorry, I know that was your favorite plant.”

Okay, spoiler. You had found your soulmate. You weren't excited about it as the rest of the world expected, but it happened. You weren't some hypocrite that would suddenly abandoned all beliefs and fell head over heels for your soulmate once you met like one of those stupid romance movies you mention earlier, you were not some cliche. Especially not with a poor excuse of a runaway-brainwashed-assassin soulmate, at least you would try convincing yourself that.

“My god Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you to just go through the door.” you pinch the bridge of your nose as the tired old man scrambles to clean up the dirt and scattered pot beneath him. “I mean, you practically live here now.”

“I'm not using the door, someone could see me.”

You think Like that's better than having someone see you climb through the fire escape, asshole. You scoff and shake your head and begin dragging yourself to the kitchen. You had a slight quirk at the end of your lips, an amused smile, you hoped Bucky didn’t see in the dark. Maybe he did, you didn’t really have enough time to ask him the deets on the effects of the serum. 

You swing open the cabinet door and grab a trash bag and first aid kit. God only knows how bent out of shape bucky is tonight. Making your way back into your living room, Buckys still muttering under his breath about your stupid plant and “god dammit it's fucking freezing out there.”

throwing the trash back at him, he looks up at you. His eyes are beautiful. His hair is sopping wet and you were hoping to any god above that he wasn't bleeding out on your floor. You were not losing your security deposit for your reckless runaway assassin soulmate. God, that's a mouthful, you need to give him a new nickname.

 “So, what's the damage?”

“s’ nothing, I'm just cold. It started raining hard.” he looks like a wet shaking dog. Your heart aches.

You look him up and down. Noticing the water dripping from all his clothing. “I see that.”

You sigh and take a few steps toward him. Bucky eyes follow your moments precisely. He has a bit of a staring problem. You snag the hair tie off your wrist and swiftly tie his brunette wet mop of a head into a little man bun. Cute. you shake your head.

“Stay, I'll be right back.”

Bucky watches you in awe as your body ascends back into the darkness of the room and around a corner. He's uncomfortable and his socks are wet. The leather vest is wet and he feels like he's trapped in his own skin, and Bucky feels too heavy. 

Slowly, he begins to unstrap all weapons on his body and toss them to the side so you don't have to see them. You didn't like guns. He had a designated place where he hides them because god-forbid Bucky messes up your apartment aesthetic with his dozen of unsettling and quite scary weapons. Your words, not his.

Unzipping the leather top and peeling the fabric off himself was less than a nice feeling, it made him cringe and sent a quick shiver down his spine. Bucky tossed it to the side, he’ll deal with that tomorrow. His hands feel the thin black shirt that's left, it's wet too. Fucking hell. He doesn’t remember the New York weather being this bad in September, he also barely remembers anything so his memory isn’t too reliable. Bucky slowly peels the fabric over his head, he hopes he doesn't mess up the bun you did, he never did it right.

Bucky hears your feet pad against your floor. He pushes back a smile. You're holding a towel and some clothes. He watches you as you crouch down next to him on the floor, he notices that your eyes are squinted and your bed head is apparent. A twinge of guilt hits him now knowing he had woken you up. Bucky whispers, “I woke you up.”

You sigh, again. “I was having a bad dream anyways.”

“About?”

You inhale, scoffing to yourself. “I was being chased by Jimmy Fallon with a jar of pickles – because you know, I hate pickles – and he was yelling at me about the importance of eating vegetables, but he sounded just like my mom.”

Bucky didn’t remember who Jimmy Fallon was, “you must think you’re so amusing, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky curls his toes and is unfortunately reminded of his very wet socks. He leans forward to untie his hefty boots. Your eyes trail along his naked back, his muscles flex and suddenly you are just a little more awake. You watch his left arm in all its glory, taking note of the ragged and scarred tissues where metal meets skin. Scratch marks are littered around the edges, and you feel sad for him, imagining how those got there. The moonlight highlights his metal arm, making it shine and look quite beautiful. You could never tell Bucky that.

“It's been a week.” you finally breathe out. Bucky freezes in place as his fingers wrap around his laces. He feels guilty again. “And you didn't leave a note this time either. I thought...”

Trailing off, you stop yourself before you say something you were going to regret. Your mind wanders, you felt so incredibly stupid right now. Truth is, you didn't agree with the whole soulmate ordeal but it seemed like ever since your unconventional first meeting with Bucky, he has stuck to you like glue. He just kept coming back and then leaving again. 

It took you many of his overnight stays and weirdly domestic mornings making scrambled eggs together and then turning into a worry machine after he leaves. You realized had grown to care for him deeply. Bucky always came back, but you were scared for the day we might not. 

Bucky is– literally, a lost puppy. He had been on the run and actively avoiding the few stray agents that knew he was still alive when he met you. 

Bucky remembered back when he was a kid, dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate. He and Steve would stay up all night talking about their soul marks, or just words (as they used to call it), and what they thought their soulmates would be like. Bucky was obsessed and simply put, a hopeless romantic. 

Then Steve met his soulmate, Peggy. And then he technically died and Hydra happened, Bucky thought his soulmate would have been dead because he was out of his time now. After being brainwashed and having been broken and put back together by Hydra, Bucky could still never shake the feeling of you still being out there, it was like some instinctive feeling in his bones, he had hope and it was one of the only things keeping him going. 

And he was right.

Bucky had many doubts when he first met you, given his situation. But you were not scared. And that was enough for him at the time.

But now he just feels guilty for giving you the burden of being his soulmate. He was trying, really.

“I'm sorry, doll.” his voice didn't sound like his own, he shrugged the rest of his boot off and followed with his socks. Finally. “I should have left a note. I'm safe, you're safe, and I'm here now.” 

Bucky heard you sniffled and you turned your head with an embarrassment look and glossy eyes. Like you were ashamed for caring.

“sweetheart...” he scooted closer, hoping you wouldn't mind his damp skin on yours. Bucky reached for you, wrapping his flesh hand around yours and giving you a small squeeze. Your head turned to him, a small smile hidden on your face by the darkness of the room. He saw it. Bucky might even think you're an angel. “I won't leave without saying something next time, I'm sorry.”

“Do I even want to know what you were doing out there?”

He hated lying to you but his life was complicated. “Just trying to fix some things I did.”

You nod. “Good.”

The silence between the two of you isn't uncomfortable, the past few months have been silent– at least with bucky. He is your soulmate. He is also the winter soldier, and the winter soldier is always moving and hiding. Bucky Barnes is always moving, always. He had been that way even way back in the Howling Commandos. 

You were his safe haven. Your relationship was on and off but your bond was strong, it was wordless and tentative and strung together by patching wounds at midnight and soft, domestic glances over coffee. Your house– just you were his place where he could just stop, pretend as if nothing mattered and sit on the couch and watch reality television that you loved. Bucky found it questionable but you said “it will help you get with the times.” Bucky just watched it because he knew it made you happy. 

Bucky Barnes had been moving all week, fast. He had almost died, twice. He was never going to let you know that though. Bucky was due for some Hell's Kitchen or dance moms. He was also not going to tell you that. 

The moonlight was fading and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside, barely silenced by the bustling city life of people leaving for work. You are still sitting next to Bucky, and you nudge him with your elbow. His attention is now drawn to you. You bite your bottom lip, a horrible habit you had, bucky hated it. Bucky brings his thumb up to your face and pulls your lip away from your teeth. He wants to kiss you.

“Go take a shower, you stink.” That works too. He smiles and you laugh. Yeah, Bucky thinks he can stop for just a little longer this time.

-

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Tag list : @ivywasmaroon @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

I cannot believe your first fic is such a masterpiece like !!! what the heck

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I’ve read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who’s actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (coming soon)

Words: 1169 

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There’s a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

“He’s late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.”  She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn’t care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Keep reading

HI LOVEEEER

I have a blurb for inflection point 👀👀 SOMETHINT MORE HOLY BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE EVERYONE HAD A SHITTY ASS WEEK!!

Jeonghanio and Seungcheol are just chattin away on their couch and reader comes home hella annoyed bc of work even tho jeonghans like "🤨" and then its just comforting bc reader just drops mega f bombs everywhere to a point where both men are terrified.

ANAGWAYS U DONT HAVE TO RESPOND I JUST HAD A IDEA 🫶🏼🫶🏼 LOVE UEYEYEYE

⟣ when you're having a bad day ⟢ wc: 1.8k words tags: fluff, sooo much fluff, cuddling

All you could think about after this shitshow of a workday is your wonderful cloud couch at home.

Not only does it provide maximum comfort during your...more risqué activities with either or both of your boyfriends, but on days much like this one, you can just sink into the plush cushions and let them swallow you whole. Almost like you're floating on a fluffy cloud—hence, the namesake.

You were mortified when Jeonghan finally spilled just how much money Seungcheol invested into that sofa. It was probably three—no, four times more expensive than the king-sized mattress he'd gotten for the three of you a year ago. Then and there, you realized that your first love has developed quite the eye for home furniture, and decided to make good on his paychecks by purchasing only the best of the best.

But the net worth of your cloud couch isn't the issue here.

When you shut the door behind you, the idle background noise from that sitcom Jeonghan has taken a fancy to these days flits to your ears—somehow easing the tension in your shoulders. He had to stay home because of a fever that's been running since yesterday evening. While that resulted to you having to cover for your boss' responsibilities for the day, you were glad to know he's been resting up just like you insisted all morning.

Jeonghan was particularly stubborn about using up a sick leave because one of the company's more insufferable clients scheduled a meeting with him today—one that apparently can't be pushed back a day since he's flying out of the country tonight.

So, like the outstanding employee and girlfriend you are, you reassured your boss-turned-lover to just relax, and that you and his secretary, Joshua have got it covered.

Besides, you've been in this business with Jeonghan for years. How bad could he possibly be?

"Whoa," Seungcheol pipes up from where he's buried under a fluffy comforter with Jeonghan on the couch. "You look like shit, babe. What happened?"

"Seungcheol," Jeonghan kicks his leg, and you don't miss the nasal quality to his voice. Your lover's miffed expression then morphs into something more hospitable. when he turns to you with a smile. "Hey, sweetheart. How was work? Not too difficult without me?"

You answer their questions by collapsing on the vacant spot right next to Jeonghan, a whine caught in the back of your throat as you buried your face his sweatshirt. He smells like laundry detergent and Salonpas—a far cry from his usual expensive colognes, but it fills you with a sense of quiet satisfaction, knowing you get to see him this vulnerable.

And Jeonghan can also see how vulnerable you are right now.

"He's so..." you trail off for a moment, the words lost on you because of how pissed off you are. "Why are we even considering doing business with such a fucking creep?"

Seungcheol tenses from the other side, rising a little to furrow his brows. "I know I don't usually ask about the specifics, but is this about that new client of yours? Did he do something weird to you? Am I going to have to beat someone up?"

Jeonghan sighs, easing a palm across Seungcheol's thigh over the comforter. "Cheol, calm down. If Mr. Seo has a type, it's definitely not our princess over here."

"What does that even mean?"

You huff before tucking your legs to your chest and shifting your weight into Jeonghan. You know you probably shouldn't be putting too much strain on someone who's sick but you can't help it!

"That weirdo wouldn't stop eye-fucking Joshua during the entire meeting! I bet he was even happy that Hannie wasn't with us today 'cause there was no one else that could tell him off. Joshua isn't exactly the confrontational type either, so..."

Jeonghan presses his lips together before making you rest your head on his shoulder, stroking your hair to placate you somehow. "But you're the confrontational type, right? Why didn't you show that asshole his place, hm? You've seen me do it dozens of times."

"In case you're forgetting, I'm just a regular employee, Hannie." You roll your eyes. "If I talk back to him, he might just have me fired."

"Who gets to hire and fire people in the office again?"

"...You."

"And do you seriously think I would fire my favorite employee?" Jeonghan teases, leaning down to plant a kiss on your nose. "You give the best head underneath my desk, love. What makes you think I'll let you go so easily?"

Your reaction is immediate, and Jeonghan lets out a soft chuckle when you peel yourself away from his embrace to relocate on Seungcheol's side—glaring at your boss as you grab tightly onto the football star's arm.

"Look what you did," Seungcheol laughs before nuzzling your hair affectionately. "As much as I want to know what that feels like, there's a time and place for everything, Han. Don't her feathers look ruffled enough?"

You let out a petulant noise, making a show of tilting your chin up with indignance. "Yeah, Hannie, haven't I gotten enough shit today?"

"Aside from the not-so-discreet Mr. Seo," he starts before getting up to pad over to your side so that you're sandwiched between your two lovers, "what else has gotten our baby so pissed off today?"

You puff out your cheeks, face souring at the mere thought of recalling everything that happened since you walked out of the door to your house today.

Since Jeonghan was sick, you convinced Seungcheol to stay at home to take care of him, despite the latter insisting that he drive you to work. You promised that you could manage, and that you sort of missed commuting to the office anyways.

That's your first mistake because you had no clue that the trains were down today, and you had to stand in a long line at the taxi bay, since none of the city buses pass by any areas near your workplace. You were already running a bit late as is, so you couldn't afford to walk either.

Today, you were an hour late for work when you've never been tardy your entire life (except for that one time your boyfriends tag-teamed you too intensely on a Monday morning, damn these men). In your attempt at apologizing profusely to Joshua—bowing a full ninety degrees and everything—you ended up knocking over his iced americano in the process.

The drink splashed all over an important document Jeonghan's secretary had been going over before your arrival, and that was honestly the first time you saw Joshua look like he wanted to strangle someone in the years you've worked alongside him.

It certainly did not help that you were supposed to meet that creep, Mr. Seo immediately after that altercation. Even if you managed to strike an acceptable deal with him after a few compromises, you could practically hear Joshua silently pleading for god to just kill him with lightning right then and there.

He must've been having just as bad a day as you are.

Your domino effect of misfortune carried over until lunch time when the nearby taco joint got your order mixed up. That happens pretty often though, and on a regular day, you wouldn't have minded, but with how terrible things have gone today, you ended up breaking down in a public bathroom.

As you animatedly recount the day's events, your two boyfriends listen intently. You're completely oblivious to how they slowly and quietly eased you into a more comfortable position on the couch—your back resting against Seungcheol's chest while Jeonghan props your legs on his lap.

"It was just a shitty fucking day," you complain, tears stinging the back of your eyes. You're not sad. You just tear up very easily whenever you're too stressed for your own good. "I hated that Hannie wasn't there. I hated the commute. I hated ruining Joshua's day. And I hate Mr. Seo even if he's bringing us a ridiculous amount of profit in the next few months."

Your rant makes you sound like a kid who got denied the toy she wants at the department store, and you hold your tongue at the realization. Seungcheol shakes his head before grasping your chin with his hand, turning your head so that your eyes would meet.

"Baby, I'm sorry we weren't there for you." He wipes the moisture from your eyes before pressing a long kiss on your lips—one that you immediately melt into. When Seungcheol pulls away, you even find yourself pouting.

"Trust me, I would've filled in Jeonghan's shoes for the day if I knew his absence would take this much of a toll on you," he reassures.

Jeonghan shakes his head at your lover's admission before nuzzling the crook of your neck. "Mmm... I don't know about that, Cheol. You might make the company go under within five minutes of talking to any of our clients."

Seungcheol scowls at him, and you stifle a quiet laugh. Can't argue with that. You and Jeonghan know very well that the way Seungcheol deals with problems is a bit too...aggressive for a corporate setting. He's better off channeling all that frustration in the field.

You jolt a little when Jeonghan circles his arms around your waist, peppering your neck, jaw, and cheeks with kisses that have you laughing at his ridiculousness. He only stops when his face is directly in front of yours, and you can't help the way your heart flutters when his lips curve into a handsome smile.

"Thank you for covering for me today, princess," he breathes, nuzzling your nose with his. "I can't kiss you on the lips 'cause you might get sick, too, but I hope you know how much I love you."

"I don't mind getting your cooties," you tease before leaning closer to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I love you, too, Hannie. But god, I can't imagine how you deal with our clients firsthand. It's one thing to watch you talk to them, but it's another to be the one making the important decisions on the spot."

"And you wonder why I make so much money," he chuckles.

Behind you, Seungcheol taps your thigh to call your attention, and you glance back at him with curious eyes.

"Jeonghan said he wanted to watch a bunch of Land Before Time movies when you got home, but we haven't decided on where to have dinner delivered from yet," he explains, leaning forward to press his lips to your temple. "You got any ideas, beautiful?"

Just like that, the day's stress has gone up in smoke. Though your beloved cloud couch certainly adds a degree of comfort you direly needed, cuddling with your two boyfriends is what ultimately quells your less-than-stellar mood. Even if the stream is lagging a little, and Seungcheol is getting crumbs and grease all over the comforter...

You wouldn't have it any other way.

⟢ end notes: this ended up WAYYY longer than expected. i can't even call it a drabble anymore but bc i've been having a shitty week myself too, i had to channel that all into this lovely request that anon slid into my ask <3 i miss inflection point jeongcheol so much and writing smth fluffy abt them for a change is such a breath of fresh air HEHE i hope more of you send in prompts like this!! i enjoy cooking them up so much~