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azucarmorena97 · 1 day

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Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.9)

Pt.8 || Pt.10

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: For years, you've heard people say that your first time isn't as special as the movies make it seem. They say it's something to just get done and move on from so you can start having good sex- and maybe that's true for some people, but this? You like this.

- Lisa: Kookie, where are you? I miss you <3

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You look over at the bathroom door, still closed, though you've heard a flush.

Without another thought, you dart out of the bed, quickly yanking on your clothes, making sure to leave absolutely no trace of yourself behind in that room.

You finally hear the bathroom door open though when you do, the hotel room door is already clicking shut behind you.

You sit in front of your computer, brows furrowed in concentration as your eyes dart from one tab to the next, typing furiously. Since you've been back home, you've been working non-stop, getting everything ready for your transition from your parents' business to Jeon Company. Beside the tedious tasks to be completed before going back to Seoul, you've made it a point not to think too much about your return.

"Don't you think you should at least respond to his messages?" B/f/n says one night on facetime. "I've been responding to mine and his mother's messages, he knows I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about." "Y/n, he walks around here like a lost puppy. He tries to hide it but it's so obvious." "Tell Lisa where her dog is then." "Y/n, maybe it was a misunderstanding." "Honestly, I don't really care anymore. I've made my peace with the idea that he might end up being my husband but he will never...never be mine," The sting is present but you ignore it. "There's no way you've made any sort of peace with...any of this. What you guys did was kind of a big deal." "It...was what it was. It was gonna happen anyway, and now I'm glad we didn't wait until the wedding night so we wouldn't kid ourselves into thinking it's some sacred act." "But it was." "I've uh, gotta go," You say, having received a notification of an incoming call on your apple watch. B/f/n sighs, "Alright...talk later." "Yeah." Without another word, you hang up the call.

It's not that you mean to be mean. You can feel yourself being short with your parents, with B/f/n, but you can't bring yourself to continue answering their questions. How are you? Why haven'y you called? Did something happen between you and Jungkook? What happened? It's humiliating enough to know he fucked you without any real plans to ever get rid of his ex-girlfriend- you don't need to be telling the whole world about it. The only reason you even told B/f/n about it was because she was the one who drove you to the airport. She could immediately tell something was off and you couldn't hold it in for any longer and began crying and carrying on. You've never been one for dramatics and tears...but this one stung. No, worse... This one might have finally broken your spirit.

"I could oversee the Australia branch on this one if you want. I'm much more familiar with the market over there -" You're trying to focus on the presentation being given by a member of the marketing department, though your mind keeps teetering back and forth between the information and your personal life. Suddenly, you see a txt message notification pop up at the corner of your laptop screen. Jungkook. Your heart skips a beat, though you quickly dismiss it and turn your attention back to the front of the room, but it doesn't stop- another message, another message, another- soon you have 5 messages from him. You bite your lip, feeling anxious to know what he's saying but not wanting to give in. "Uhm, you'll have to excuse me for just a moment," You say, shooting out of your chair and abruptly walking out of the room, leaving everyone staring at you from the other side of the big glass wall as you walk down the hall.

You take your phone out and unlock it, quickly opening up to his messages.

𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗬/𝗻 𝗜 𝗿𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗜𝗱𝗸 𝘆 𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗰𝗻 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸? 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗳 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻, 𝗜 𝗿𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗶 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗜𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝘆𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗣𝗹𝘇 𝗬/𝗻

"What the fuck..." You mumble, furrowing your brows. Is he having a stroke or something? You slap your hand to your forehead and press the call button on his contact. You swore you wouldn't talk to him at all while you were back at home, yet here you are, calling him. It rings only twice and then you can hear rustling on the other side, along with loud music.

"J-Jungkook?" You say into the phone, suddenly unsure if he meant to answer it, as it takes him quite a few seconds to say anything. "Y/n? Y/n- can you hear me?" He says loudly into the phone, his tone surprised and desperate. "Yes...I can hear you."

"Y/n, why haven't you been answering me?" "Because...I needed some space." "Space? After what we did?" It isn't until now that you notice his speech is a bit slurred. "Yeah, I needed space...hey, are you drunk?" "Are you still gonna marry me?" "Answer the question, Y/n." "You first," You narrow your eyes at the wall as though he were standing right in front of you. "Alright, fine. I may have had a few beverages. But it's your fault." "Please, tell me how this is my fault?" "Because you left me. You used me and then left me." You let out a bitter laugh, "Right, I used you." "So are you gonna marry me or what?" He repeats.

"I'm hanging up." "The phone or the relationship?" "You're not even making sense, Jungkook," You know perfectly well what he means, but you don't want to have this conversation with him, knowing how absolutely inebriated he sounds. "You don't make sense," He sounds much like a child. "Good bye." You don't let him get in another word before you hang up the phone.

You don't immediately return to the meeting, deciding you need a moment to gather yourself. As angry as you are, hearing his voice was oddly comforting. You hate that.

It's the last day of your time back home and you've packed up a lot of your things that you'll be sending to Seoul. The departure is bitter... there is no more sweet left in you to give you hope for your arrival at your new home. You don't know how you're gonna do it... your mom tried to talk you into having a bridal shower but you managed to wiggle out of it, though not without compromise. "What time is the fitting on Wednesday?" You ask your mom. "1PM. I arranged for everyone to meet fifteen minutes early though," She says excitedly. By everyone, she means herself, Mrs.Jeon, and all of your bridesmaids...including Lisa. For two to three hours, you'd be forced to play nice with the person at the center of your current rage- well, one of the people at the center. You'd be marrying the other one after. Though you suppose two to three hours is better than an entire night for a bridal shower.

"Make sure you sleep on the plane, the Jeon's invited us to dinner when you get back." "Great." "Don't start, Y/n. After Friday afternoon, they'll be family. You need to start playing smart." "I'm not playing a game to begin with," You say wearily. "Now, I don't know what happened between you and Jungkook-" You prepare to argue with her and tell her to mind her business, but she cuts you off, "-BUT- you need to put it aside and make amends. You cannot start this marriage on a bad foot." "Alright..." You concede. Pointless in protesting when you're gonna go through with it anyway.

The plane ride is long, though you spend about two thirds of it sleeping and the last bit, writing a portion of a project proposal you'd be sending your dad on behalf of the marketing team. If you just keep your head down and your mind busy, maybe you'll be able to float through the next few days without a hitch.

When you land, it's only B/f/n and Namjoon who are there to receive you. Typical. Though you'd been quite dry with B/f/n since during your time away, she is like a breath of fresh air and a sight for sore eyes and you can't help the big smile that spreads across your face when you see her. Of course, never one to hold a grudge, she embraces you tightly. "Wow, three weeks away and you'd swear Y/n was coming back from war," Namjoon jokes. B/f/n doesn't let go of you, just lazily hits him on his arm and continues hugging you. "Listen to me; you are going to be strong this week, okay? Don't think about anyone but yourself. I'll be right next to you the entire step of the way." Her words bring tears to your eyes and all you can do is struggle to nod, as she is holding you quite tightly.

When you get back to the hotel room, you drop everything and leap into bed, your heart content to just lay there... "Don't get too comfortable. Dinner's in...an hour and a half," She reminds you. You groan, face down into the mattress. You lazily roll over and stare up at the ceiling, "Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be reincarnated as a bed bug." "You are such a weirdo." "I'm serious...and all I'll have to do is live in people's mattresses and feast and poop...if I'm lucky, some weary traveler will transport me somewhere great, and that's how i'll live my life." "Just my luck, I'll end up being the traveler," She grumbles, causing you to laugh. "That's right, you'll never be rid of me."

You practically drag your feet behind your parents and B/f/n. No part of you wants even to exist in the same vicinity as Jungkook right now, let alone eat dinner with him and his family. "You better fix your face," Your mom says over he shoulder, and though you're not able to fully see it, you know she's saying it through gritted teeth. "Ah, welcome back!" You hear Mr.Jeon's voice come from the direction just ahead, though your parents are completely blocking your view. You immediately 'fix your face', as your mom so lovingly put it, and stepped out from behind your dad to give the most fake smile of your life- though once the entire table is in view, you realize it's only his parents. No Jungkook in sight...and for some reason, your heart falls just a little bit, though you're sure your face doesn't give you away. "H-Hello, how are you both?" You give a small bow. "Oh, we're good. How was your trip? Did you get a lot done?" Mrs.Jeon asks, her smile warm and inviting. "Yes, I did. Thanks for asking." You glance at the empty chair and it seems as though she notices because then she says, "You'll have to excuse Jungkook tonight. He's at the office preparing for a presentation for Wednesday." "Oh, yes of course," You reach for your glass of water and look at B/f/n, who gives you a small smile. At least it'll be a calm dinner...

Dinner was a breeze, the conversation flowing between your parents effortlessly; you mostly sat with your eyes on your plate, your spoon pushing around the little rice you had left. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to Jungkook...

"Earth. To. Y/n," B/f/n calls in a robotic voice, waving her hand in front of your face. "Mm?" "You okay?" She asks, putting her hair up in front of the bathroom mirror. "Oh, yeah. Sorry...I guess I spaced out." "Mhm...was it in Jungkook land again?" "What? Of course not," You try to lie but you know she ain't buying it. "Don't you think it's high time you guys talk? It's been weeks." "If I don't see that boy until the wedding day, I'll be perfectly fine." "Don't let the universe hear you," She warns, rubbing her face cream between her fingers. "Fuck the universe," You say arrogantly before turning around and leaving the bathroom.

The next morning, your alarm goes off at around 6:30, eliciting a groan from you. You grab the pillow next to you and smash it against your face, not wanting to face the day. "It's tiiiiiiiiiiime," B/f/n sings at the highest possible pitch, mimicking Mariah Carrey's 'All I Want For Christmas'. "Shut up," You whine. She's usually not a morning person but as soon as your mom told her she was in charge of getting your hair and makeup done for the fitting, she insisted that you set an early alarm. Apparently, getting ready at 11AM for your 1PM fitting wasn't enough time because, as she so lovingly put it, she's "not a miracle worker".

"I don't even get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this. It's just a fitting- why do we need hair and makeup?" "You are probably the most annoying bride I've ever worked on," She rolls her eyes, patting the beauty blender lightly on your skin. "I'm the only bride you've ever worked on." "And you're already souring my experience. This is the first time you're trying on your dress- it needs to be a memorable and impactful experience." "Fine..." You cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes, deciding it's better to give in than to keep fighting it. All you want to do is stay in bed and sulk.

The only good to come out of the fitting today is the fact that you'll be seeing all your college friends; Han Soo-Hee, Shin Se-Kyung, Jisoo, and Jung Chae-yeon. You'd not seen them in a couple years and it'll be nice to catch up. Of course, the only downside-

"Lisa!" Mrs.Jeon says cheerfully, walking ahead of you, B/f/n, and your mom into the bridal shop. Your heart starts pounding and you can feel your blood boiling instantly. "Breathe," B/f/n whispers to you. "Mrs.Jeon!" Her voice is sickeningly sweet and you can tell by the hug she gives her that she's intent on laying it on thick. "I'm so happy you accepted to be a bridesmaid on such short notice," Mrs.Jeon turns to the side and extends her hand to motion to you, "This is Y/n." "Y/n, it's so nice to formally meet you," Lisa says with a low bow. "Same to you." You're such a liar. "I'm so excited to see you in your dress- I'm sure you'll make a beautiful bride." Her comment takes you by surprise and it takes you a moment to respond. "Th-thank you," You blush. "Of course- I'm sorry, how rude of me. What's your name?" B/f/n gives a polite smile, though you knew her enough to know that it was totally fake, "I'm B/f/n. Maid of honor." "Oh that's so sweet- You're so lucky. I won't ever be able to be a maid of honor unless my best friend finally gets married. You may have met her. Rose?"

Your mind flashes back to Rose's burning rage that day when she pulled up on Jin while you were out to dinner with Jungkook. "That sounds vaguely familiar."

"Yeah, well anyway- probably never gonna happen. Her boyfriend's a raging asshole. Anyway, are we expecting anyone else?" Lisa asks.

This whole thing feels strange. She seems way different from the impression she gave that day in the bathroom at Kook's party. You expected to be met with a sour attitude and cattiness, but she seems quite...bubbly.

"Yeah, our four other bridesmaids should be here shortly," B/f/n says, checking her watch.

Not a second goes by and the bell on the bridal shop door chimes, announcing the arrival of the rest of your court. "WHERE'S THE BRIDE!?" Se-Kyung exclaims, throwing her hands up in celebration.

"MY GIRLS!" You cheer, both you and B/f/n running to hug your guests. Instantly, you feel yourself relax. It doesn't matter how this fitting goes, you finally have your people around you.

After a few minutes, you were all lead by a sales associate to a back room with various mirrors and a pretty pink couch, the walls lined with dresses upon dresses. On the furthest wall, facing the couch, is a platform with three mirror, meant for you to be able to look at yourself from all angles...the thought makes you want to gag.

You're going into this fitting basically blind, not having been shown a single stitch of your dress until this moment. The sales lady leaves you in a room with it, hung high up to keep the long train from sagging on the floor. You stare at the grand gown for some time- so long that the sales lady comes back and knocks on the door, "You okay in there?" "Just-just a moment," You say, scrambling to get your clothes off and slip into the dress, holding it up at the bodice so as not to expose your boobs before they've laced you in.

You don't dare look in the dressing room mirror- seeing yourself might just make it too real and right now, you're trying desperately to convince yourself that this is all one big dream that you're gonna wake up from. Once the dress is secured, you pick the heavy skirt up and walk out to your court, each lady waiting for you with a glass of champagne in hand. A series of claps and cheers erupt and you feel your face burn. You stand with your back to the mirror, facing everyone. Your moms eyes are welling with tears, Mrs.Jeon has her hands covering her mouth, B/f/n and all of your bridesmaid's are fawning over you. "You look absolutely gorgeous," Mrs.Jeon says. "Doesn't she? God, Jungkook won't be able to keep his eyes off you," Se-Kyung smiles ear to ear. "Or his hands!" B/f/n adds, causing you to blush even harder. Even your mom and Mrs.Jeon can't hold back a laugh at her most inappropriate comment.

"So, what do you think?" Chae-Yeon asks. "About what?" You ask. "About the dress, you goof." "Oh- it's fine," You say, looking down and smoothing out the bottom. "Just fine? Did you even look in the mirror?" B/f/n asks. You respond with a long period of silence, pursing your lips. "Turn your ass around and look in that mirror," Jisoo reprimands you. "I did!" "Liar!" "Ugh, fine." You cross your arms tightly over your chest, shut your eyes tight and turn around. You brace yourself for a few seconds before finally, slowly opening your eyes.

You'd heard about this before- this moment. The moment where you see yourself for the first time in the dress. In everyone's stories, it's the second or the third dress, maybe even the tenth- but the moment will always come where you see yourself in that dress and simultaneously, see your future unfolding in your reflection. Suddenly, your eyes begin to well too. You can no longer pretend; this is real. Mom was right, you think, the hair and makeup did make a difference.

"It's the dress," Your mom says softly, pride in her voice. Everyone erupts in cheers again, though you hardly pay it any mind- your mind is completely and totally fixed on this feeling in your chest...

You want to see Jungkook.

B/f/n helps put the dress safely in the trunk for you, leaving you standing there with Lisa, as the other girls had headed off to the restaurant to get your table and your mom and Mrs.Jeon went back to the hotel to start dealing with the preparations of the ballroom. Lisa had been quite warm and welcoming to everyone the entire fitting, and you began to question whether or not you'd imagined her conversation with Rose.

Could it have been that you misunderstood everything? You misread the situation? Did you fuck everything up by jumping to conclusions?

"Uhm- Hey Lisa, we're gonna be going out to dinner once we pull out of here...would you like to join us?" You ask, the words feeling strange as they come out of your mouth.

"Oh, that's so nice of you to ask- unfortunately I really have to go take care of some stuff at home. Rain check?" "Yes, of course. No worries...And hey, listen. Thanks again for agreeing to be part of my court." "Of course, it's not a problem at all," She opens her arms to you, a warm expression on her face as she goes in for a hug. You gladly return the gesture, though once she's pulled you in, she brings her lips really close to your ear, "Anything for Jungkoook."

Venom drips off of her every word, the air thick between you; and suddenly, it all makes sense. The uncharacteristically sweet smiles, the polite bows, the compliments...she's an actress, and this fitting was her stage. In fact, the entire Jeon family is a plot device for her performance. She doesn't want Jungkook...she wants to be adored.

This is why Jungkook doesn't believe me.

Before you're able to respond in any way, Lisa is letting you go, walking in the opposite direction toward her car.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur; so much to take in and so little to time. Dinner, drinks at the hotel bar, and now, more drinks at a pub a few blocks away. You decide to put Lisa out of your mind and just enjoy the company of your friends: drinks upon drinks are passed around, laughter and merriment fill the air- before you know it, your insides feel warm and fuzzy and your mind more free and uninhibited. "I'm gonna call him," You say, standing from your chair, a self-righteous expression on your face as you pound your chest once. "That's the best idea you've had all night," B/f/n says. "Call him!" Se-Kyung shouts. "Call him, call him, call him!" They all pound on the table, cheeks cherry red and hair disheveled- you were the sloppiest bunch anyone ever did see.

You take your phone out of your purse and punch in his number- having grown accustomed over the past few weeks at seeing it pop up on your screen, you'd memorized the number by heart. You can faintly hear it ringing but the music in the bar is so loud that you decide to stumble your way out to the parking lot. It continues to ring a few more times before he finally picks up.

"Hello?" Jungkook's voice is groggy, like he'd been sleeping. "Where were you at dinner?" You ask, cutting to the chase. "Y/n it's...it's 1AM. Where are you?" "Fuck you," You slur. "Fuck you too," He returns the same cold tone, though he doesn't hang up. "Fuck you more!" You hang up on him, mouth hanging open in disbelief at how rude he's being. Clearly, you're drunk. You can't hold what drunk people say against them. "Asshat," You grumble, returning to your friends.

About fifteen minutes go by and everyone is absolutely zombified, with B/f/n having tapped out five minutes prior, her head resting on the table. "I'm never drinking again..." Jisoo groans. "It'll be at least...twelve hours before I can stomach another drink," Se-Kyung adds. "Y/n," A familiar voice says behind you. You turn around and realize it's Namjoon. "'Joon?" You ask incredulously, "How'd you know we were here?" He chuckles, "It's my job to know. Remember?" He walks around to B/f/n and sweeps her hair out of her face. She's sound asleep. "I'm here to take you all home." "I could've gotten a car, you didn't have to do that-" "Jungkook sent me." You blink in surprise. Jungkook? "You're kinda hot," Chae-Yeon says, staring dreamily at him. "Thanks but I'm seeing someone," He says politely, gently scooping B/f/n up into his arms. "Everyone ready?"

Thursday goes by quickly, with everyone scrambling to get everything ready for the wedding. Your mothers decided to hold the wedding at the other hotel location about thirty minutes away for a nice change of scenery. Decorations are being brought in, tables and chairs set up, tapestries are brought in and hung up all over the hall ceiling. It's all coming together quickly- a circus of workers directed by yours and Jungkook's mothers. You avoid thinking about the previous night's shenanigans, cringing at yourself for having sunk so low as to drunk dial him.

But you also can't stop thinking about the absolute lack of consideration- sending Namjoon instead of just getting you all himself? What a prick...not that you wanted to see him, but it's about common decency. Don't get someone else to do your job. Even if it is technically what Namjoon gets paid to do...

"Stop talking so much, I'm getting a headache," B/f/n says sarcastically, gently nudging you. You're snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks blushing slightly, "Sorry. Just out of it today." "I can see..." You both watch as flowers are placed inside of the tall vases at the center of each table. "Am I making a mistake?" You ask, not looking over at her. She doesn't respond for a few seconds and you begin to wonder if she even heard you. "Do you love him?" She asks. Your cheeks get hotter and hotter, embarrassed by her question. "Love? I- I barely know him..." You nervously twiddle your thumbs. It's true, you barely know him...but you can't help the way your heart flutters at the word: love. You'd never been in love before...but if you're being completely honest with yourself, you can't deny that this feeling within you is nothing like the crushes you've had in your youth. This is a heavy, sticky feeling- a painful yet exhilarating condition of the heart. Love...how could you dare to speak it out loud? "Only you can answer that," B/f/n says, referring to the initial question, "And once you do, the next question is...now that you've gotten to know him, could you see yourself going back to the way life was without him?" "B/f/n! Can you please help me with this? I can't decide if I want them to out the couple's table on the left or right side!" Mrs.Jeon calls out. "Bridesmaid duty calls," She says to you before jogging over to the far end of the ballroom to give her input.

Her question stays with you, like a heavy boulder on your shoulders. The truth is, you know you can't go back. Not now...not after all of this... You guess you have your answer.

You toss and turn all night, your dreams plagued with nightmare scenarios of how it might go during the ceremony. One moment, Jungkook is saying 'I do', and then you somehow morph into Lisa before he can kiss you. In another moment, he's completely walking away and running out of the church, holding Lisa by the hand. It feels like the night only lasts as much as the blink of an eye before B/f/n is shaking you awake, her hair disheveled and eyes barely open, "Girl are you okay?" "Wh-what?" "You were like...whimpering in your sleep- and your alarm has been going off for like five minutes." You suddenly become aware of your very loud alarm. "Sorry," You say groggily, reaching over and turning off your alarm, "Just had a rough night." "I can imagine...you're probably feeling really nervous." "Yeah..." You sit up and slouch forward, your eyes locking onto the TV that's already turned on and fixed on the news channel. You mindlessly watch as clips play, one after another- and then you see an image of the Jeons' hotel. It then switches to a reporter who says, "June Company will soon be merging with L/N Co., which will open jobs throughout the country, as well as in Australia, the United States, and Japan."

"Looks like your merger is making headlines," B/f/n says, jaw practically on the floor. Your face is completely frozen and your heart is pounding. You feel as though you may have an enormous panic attack. You obviously know that the Jeons are kind of a big deal, but you didn't realize just how important this was all going to be. "Y/n?" She sees your expression and quickly turns off the television. "Let's just get you ready, yeah? Come on." She helps you out of bed and leads you to the bathroom. You're practically catatonic for the next hour while you brush your teeth and take a quick shower.

You get your hair and makeup done at the other location, having been put up in a room that connects to the ballroom. Mirrors were brought in to aid in the court's preparation. Every few minutes, you look over at the dress that's hung up on the opposite wall from the collapsable vanity where you're sitting. You don't dare take it out of the garment bag for fear of messing it up. Your mind is still so full of thoughts, all shouting at you for individual attention. It's almost like you're on auto-pilot, the makeup artists asks you to tilt your head or suck in your cheeks, or puff out your lips and you do- though it doesn't register that you've been cooperating so well until those odd moments you look in the mirror and realize your face is almost done.

In fact, you're so out of it that you don't notice Lisa come in. Now, your bridesmaids lovingly picked out coordinated velour tracksuits; yours is black, theirs are pink. They even got one for Lisa, but apparently she didn't need it because her dress is already on and her makeup is already done. Of course, she looks beautiful; her dress fits her absolutely perfectly, the silk fabric laying beautifully on her hips, and the color compliments her skin tone so that she looks like a pretty little porcelain doll...but fuck her. "Hey, Y/n would you mind just coming out to do a run through of the walk?" Your mom asks, popping her head into the suite. You nod, standing up and dusting the setting powder off of yourself, all bridesmaids in tow, though at the last second before entering the ballroom, Lisa says, "I'll meet everyone in a few minutes, I just have to run to the restroom really quickly," to which no one responds of even gives a flying fuck about. Because again, fuck her.

You'd practiced the entrance yesterday with everyone except Jungkook who, of course, was in meetings all day as he had been all week. You're surprised he's even found time to marry you today. Right now, he and his groomsmen are all in another part of the hotel getting ready; you're only practicing with the bridesmaids. You all run through it about three times and then head back to the suite to wrap up getting ready. One by one, all your bridesmaids slip on their dresses and jewelry and head to the next room over to start recording their video diaries for when you put the wedding video together. You're the only one who has yet to put on your dress. You needed the moment to be private; a second to gather your thoughts. You close the door to the suite and then slowly walk over to the garment bag. "This is it..."

You take off your tracksuit and lay it neatly on a nearby chair, leaving yourself in only your pretty, white, lacey bra and delicate silk, white panties with a small bow at the front. B/f/n had insisted you wear them so you could feel beautiful through and through- you initially thought it was an unnecessary detail, though as she is about most things, B/f/n was absolutely right- you do feel beautiful. You gingerly pull down the zipper of the garment bag, revealing the big white gown. Just as beautiful as you remember it from the fitting. You take it off of the hanger and walk over to one of the mirrors leaned against the wall. You step into the gown and pull it up- of course, you'll need help lacing it in but you just want an intimate moment to look at yourself. You press it against your chest and look up at your reflection-

and then the blood drains from your face.

You feel your hands get stiff and ice cold, and you feel that familiar tightness in your chest.

The panic attack that could not come to fruition this morning has now returned with a vengeance, and you are doubled over, sturggling for oxygen.

Cuts. Cuts everywhere. All over the skirt of the dress. Deep, angry slashes. How did I not see them before? How did I miss them? Were they there when I got to the hotel after the fitting? No, it couldn't be- B/f/n put it in the trunk and then hung it up at our hotel room... when did this happen?

Tears stream down your face as you slump forward in the chair. It's drafty in this suite but you can't bring yourself to put the tracksuit back on, or even to move at all beyond the violent jerking of your shoulders with every sob. "Y/n, Y/n, are you okay!?" B/f/n runs over to you, having just finished her recording, "What happened!?" You can't even speak, you just point to the mound of fabric on the floor that once was your dress...that once was the dress. She picks it up off the ground and holds it up, her mouth immediately falling open in disbelief. She's just as confused as you are. "What- how even- This dress was in perfect condition when I brought it here. I checked," She says angrily, trying to rack her brain just like you had only moments ago. Your crying intensifies, a strong feeling of defeat washing over you.

"Oh, Y/n," Her face softens and she hugs you tightly. "I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do. That was the dress. That was the last shred of hope I had for this God-forsaken marriage. Now what? I have no dress, I haven't seen Jungkook once since I've been back. I have nothing left in me to give..." She lets you cry into her chest for a moment before pulling away, "Okay, we have a little less than an hour before the ceremony. Let me see what we can do." She runs out of the room and then you're alone again. Completely and utterly alone...

About fifteen minutes go by and not a single person has entered the suite. You assume they're all trying to figure out what happened and how to help. Your cries have quieted down a bit but still have not ceased. You feel broken and you're tired of fighting it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You're snapped out of your thoughts, head lifting up and looking toward the door, "Come in," You say, your wavering voice just loud enough to be heard from the other side. The door opens slowly, and you expect to see B/f/n or maybe your mom, but instead, Jungkook walks in, his expression soft and solemn as he closes the door behind him.

"Hey, Y/n."

A/N: Hope you all liked it! Plz comment and DM for suggestions on what you'd like to see happen next in the story; you might inspire me <3

Also, I am so honored that ppl would want me to tag them in the next part. To know anyone likes this series enough to keep up with it is so heartwarming. So, with that being said:

@ttanniett <3

#bts #jungkook #jin #namjoon #suga #bts imagine #jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #seoekjin #yoongi #kim taehyung

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i-guess-im-into-this-now · 2 days

Text

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E18 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/locations cheat sheet

Suiren - Jinshi's attendant

Lakan - master strategist

Pairin - one of the princesses at Verdigris House

Luomen - Maomao's physician father

Meimei: one of the princesses of Verdigris House

Suirei: court lady who doesn't like Maomao

Woah. Okay so that's a loaded exchange.

Jinshi: How does one decrease the value of a courtesan? Maomao: In the case of pregnancy, it would reduce it to nearly zero.

There are 7 seconds of silence in this show after that. Yes, I used a stopwatch to time it. That is a freaking insane pause.

Jinshi makes a move to... I don't know exactly, reach out maybe? Reassure Maomao that he's not planning on doing this? I'm not sure. There is a shit ton of subtext to this conversation, that I'm not sure I have completely figured out but I will try.

Jinshi is the more obviously bothered by this statement, by a lot. Maomao is just observing to see how Jinshi responds to it. Essentially what she says is that a man could rape a courtesan and impregnant her to bring her value down, to ruin her. It would bring her value so low that anyone could afford to buy out her contract at that point. Jinshi has not provided any context to why he asked this question, and Maomao is studying him closely to see what he does with the information. I don't believe she thinks he would do this personally to a courtesan, or she wouldn't have told him. But as it appears, they've arrived at a brothel where Jinshi stopped her before going inside to ask this very fucked up question. She has to at least examine the possibility that she is wrong about Jinshi. And I think he passes her scrutiny, but not without damage done. She's disappointed that he is planning on going into this brothel, and that he asked such a depraved question. It hits particularly hard, because just prior to this they were having a nice moment where she opened up about her father. Now she is likely backtracking, either wondering why she bothered, or scolding herself for behaving inappropriately.

As for Jinshi in this scene, he hasn't revealed why he wants the answer to this particular question so badly. But boy does he want it. He let himself and Maomao fall into Lakan's trap just so that Lakan would tell him the answer. But Lakan didn't answer. Instead Jinshi asks Maomao, knowing that the question is inappropriate. He risks damaging the regard between the two of them so that he can get this answer. He's risking widening the rift between them. But why? What use is this answer to Jinshi? Does this have to do with the story Lakan told? Is he concerned about what may have happened to a courtesan in the past? To Maomao's mother? Is there a courtesan in the present that Jinshi is concerned about? Who can say.

In any case, Jinshi can see the damage that asking it has caused. He tries, I think, to backtrack, but it's too late. Maomao is retreating from him. She wants to flee, this conversation hurts for reasons she doesn't want to examine. Thank god Jinshi is emotionally intuitive. He can't let her walk away like this. The rift between them is too large, there is no telling if it could even be fixed if she leaves now. Jinshi grabs her arm.

Jinshi: You're leaving me now?

Maomao explains that her presence would compromise whatever plans he has in the restaurant. And Jinshi has to agree that makes sense, even if he can't put into thoughts or words why his heart is breaking right now.

Jinshi's critical error in this moment is that he is trying to keep Maomao out of what he's up to. He wants to protect her from whatever he's involved in, yet doing so is harmful too. He never tells her why he is visiting this place. He never explains why he asked the question. She is left to fill in the blanks with her own assumptions, with devastating results. In his effort to protect Maomao, Jinshi has harmed her. Jinshi cares for Maomao, but he hasn't learned to fully trust or respect her. And there will never be a relationship without trust. He's still got a lot of work to do before a real relationship can happen.

Maomao: It's fine. I didn't show any emotion when I spoke.

Maomao!!!

Her heart is breaking here too. I'm only surprised she is willing to admit it to herself. Perhaps the anguish of this moment has become too great to deny? For as sad as this scene is, that Maomao is aware and acknowledging her emotions is a major breakthrough! I suspect she's in for some painful moments now that she has to feel her pain, but you can't heal what you don't feel. She's on a path of healing now! Yay!

Oh my god, she even turned around to watch him walk into the building. So good Maomao. You're doing great girl!

Maomao: I truly hope you enjoy your evening good sir.

Maomao you dirty little liar!

Okay so maybe we only get to see a tiny step forward for Maomao, but a tiny step is still progress! I'm just so happy to see anything that pokes past the impasse that Jinshi and Maomao have been stuck at for ages.

The fuck kind of nightmare was that?! No wonder Maomao doesn't like to feel her emotions if she gets horrible flashbacks. Was she the baby in that scene? It looked like someone who was horribly injured tried to kill a baby. Apparently they couldn't go through with it. Was this Maomao's courtesan mother? Was she burned or scarred in someway? Perhaps to bring down her value? Or was the baby the product of rape? Was she trying to get rid of the baby to allow her to what? Return to being a courtesan? Seems unlikely with the injuries. Because she hates how the baby was conceived? Because the baby reminds her of the man who did this to her? Maybe to kill the baby so it couldn't be abused by someone else? Maybe because the woman in the scene was planning to kill herself after killing the baby?

Maomao looks at her hand, then thinks about the conversation she had with Jinshi yesterday. She then says of the nightmare that she brought it up. So there is a connection between the conversation and the nightmare. I'm guessing that what Jinshi asked about is exactly what happened to Maomao's mother, which triggered her memory. Why look at her hand? Does this have anything to do with her bandaged arm? Does the neglect or abuse of her mother have something to do with Maomao's low self-worth and the reason she is willing to self harm for her experiments? Or is she looking at her hand just to ground herself in reality, to try to fight back the traumatic memories?

After being awoken by her nightmare, Maomao is comforted by the familiar sight and routine of her father working in the apothecary. He asks her to take a package to Verdigris House.

This is maybe as good a time as any to ponder if Maomao's connection with Verdigris House is greater than that of an apothecary. I mean clearly it is, she considers the people here to be her family. But could she have had blood family that lived here as well? Was her mother one of the courtesans? I think that has been hinted at fairly strongly now.

Maomao is welcomed back with open arms. I'm so glad too see it. When was the last time someone gave Maomao a hug? Was it the last time she was here at the brothel?

Pairin is being harassed by granny to make a choice on something, and Maomao uses the opportunity to sneak away.

Pairin: Is she going to the annex?

I fricking hope so! I've been waiting for this!

Okay, so the annex is part of Verdigris House. And it looks identical to the room in Maomao's nightmare. So this must be where Maomao's mother lived. Perhaps where she died. And Maomao lived here, at least as an infant. How did she end up with Luomen?

Oh shit! Her mother is still alive?! But in a terrible state. She has some terrible illness. And it's not confirmed that this is her mother, but isn't it implied? Either way, Maomao used to be chased out of here by this angry person though it seems she no longer has the energy.

And hold on, I remember a scene from the last time Maomao was in the Verdigris House where granny asked her to tend to what I thought was just an ill courtesan, but perhaps it was this person in the annex.

Maomao's mother patient seems to be in the end stages of her illness. She no longer has energy to even speak. Luomen's once effective treatments don't offer relief, and there is nothing more that can be done. Though she may have been dealing with her decline for a long time Maomao will soon have to deal with the death of her mother. This may not be a healthy relationship, but there will still be grief. We grieve for people even when it's complicated. We also grieve what could have been, what never was. And there is never a good time to lose someone, but certainly some times are worse than others. Much of Maomao's life is uncertain right now, and she just took an emotional blow from her interaction with Jinshi, causing her to dip into the emotions she tries to avoid, now this on top of it. When it rains, it pours.

There is a troublesome customer visiting the Verdigris House. Meimei has been tasked to meet him. How foreboding. It couldn't be Lakan could it? His history with courtesans makes me ill.

Okay so maybe this lady isn't Maomao's mother, maybe she is. Maomao explains that the woman has syphilis. At least Verdigris House takes care of their own. I love that. Luomen may have been able to do something for this woman if he had arrived to serve the brothel during an earlier stage of the illness. There is a flashback here, where we get a glimpse of young Maomao in the brothel. No one trusted the eunuch doctor from no where, even if he could have done something. After contracting syphilis, the lady had to go on serving customers until the sores spread over her whole body, and she was locked up in the annex.

The woman tried to hum a tune, but is unable to to speak. I wonder if Maomao recognizes it.

Little girl: Big sis wanted you to know that the weirdo with the monocle is here, so you should avoid going out there for awhile.

Oh no! It is Lakan! Why is this little girl telling Maomao specifically so she can avoid him? Does he have a history with Maomao at the brothel? I'm trying to recall all of the things that Lakan said about the courtesan he used to visit at Verdigris House. That he could beat her at shogi, but not go. That she never sold herself but that she had an arrogant expression... I mean, I could be looking into it too much, but that... could be Maomao? Did she work as a courtesan here before? Is this why Jinshi is so determined to find out how someone might have reduced the price of a courtesan?! Did he know she used to work here? Does he worry that something terrible has happened to Maomao here? DID IT! Oh my god! It would explain so much about her fear of working as a courtesan, and her trauma. What the fuck happened in this brothel?! And who all knows about it! I demand answers!

I'm going to pull it back a little bit, and return to an earlier theory that Lakan is actually Maomao's biological father. He may have a history with Maomao at the brothel but that may be as a man who was somewhat interested in the daughter he fathered. Understandably, Maomao wants nothing to do with him. We learn here that Maomao knows who Lakan is though. Thank god they didn't run into each other in the palace. Can she really go on avoiding him? He can follow her in the palace or in the Pleasure District.

Maomao refers to Lakan as a long time customer of the Verdigris House, an old acquaintance, but that if she just stays put in the annex, she won't run into him. Okay, but tell me why you don't want to run into him....

Maomao has had a rough day. She's still reeling from her conversation with Jinshi and now she has been trapped all day in the annex with a woman who maybe hates her, so that she can avoid Lakan. She's had nothing to do but think about all the really painful emotions that she usually stays busy to avoid. Meimei finds Maomao hiding out in the annex, and lets her know that Lakan has left. Apparently he has brough up an offer for Maomao?! Maomao hates it, and so do I!

Maomao worries that if she didn't have her job that the madam of Verdigris House would have sold her off to Lakan by now. She thinks that Lakan's interest is the main reason that the madam wants her to become a courtesan. So Lakan is a major contributing factor to why Maomao is so fiercely opposed to being a courtesan. Her terror takes on a new shade of meaning now. If only we knew what has transpired between Maomao and Lakan in the past, we could understand.

Meimei has been given offers to leave the brothel, but has as yet turned them all down. She's getting close to retirement age, but isn't ready for that yet. Maomao asks why she doesn't just leave? To Maomao the freedom to choose would be preferrable to any offer that a customer could make. Maomao thinks that Meimei is holding out for love. Perhaps she is in love with someone already, and is waiting for an offer from that person.

Maomao: Maybe it's love. But if that's the case. It's not a rabbit hole I want to delve into. That's an emotion I'm sure I left behind. Back in the womb of the woman who birthed me.

Nearly every example of romantic love that Maomao has is heartbreaking. She's seen heartbreak after heartbreak in the brothel, with courtesans having promises made to them, and then broken. We don't know the story of her parents, but if her mother is the dying woman in the annex, or if she has died already, then then there is heartbreak in her story as well. Even the concubines in the palace don't have the love of the emperor, instead they merely battle for his attention and favor. The sole example she has seen is that of the concubine who was able to escape the Rear Palace when her military beau was able to secure her release.

Maomao is not open to the idea of love, in fact it is something she tries to avoid, disdains even. This view of love is one of the reasons we have seen her repeatedly shut down any tender emotion she's had, and why she is so willing to read any other explanation when love is directed at herself. And she tells us here, that it stems from her parents. How is she ever going to trust someone enough to love them and be loved in return?

And what a way to talk about one's own mother. "The woman who birthed me." So there is a story there. It sounds like one of abandonment, neglect or abuse, as we've already guessed.

The princesses want to pamper Maomao, and she adores the attention. This girl is so touch starved. I wondered about Maomao's need for physical touch, way back in episode 2 when Jinshi touched Maomao's hair and breathed on her neck. He did it in an effort to try to seduce her, but her reaction was interesting. She didn't get disgusted or freaked out as she did with his flirting. She just kind of let it happen. Now we see it with the courtesans that she considers family. Meimei is scrubbing Maomao's back and she is relaxed and smiling. The courtesans love Maomao so much, I wish she could have this kind of affection all the time.

Hard transition to Jinshi. A man who maybe has never had a hug in his life, except for the back hug he stole from Maomao when he was drunk. He's regretting that his date went so terribly, he didn't mean to give the impression to Maomao that he was trying to hook up with someone. He tells us that it definitely wasn't what he traveled there for, which is really unnecessary. No one who has been watching this show believed he was. I would like for him to tell us what he was up to though.

Maomao has retuned to Jinshi's residence, and Jinshi steels himself to face her. He's embarrassed and knows he's once again put space between them, when all he wants to do is find a way to get closer. Plus, it looks like he's carrying that jug of... beverage that Lakan left. He presents it as a present from a weirdo. Their conversation lacks all of the usual banter, and is perfectly polite, which for these two is a disaster. Jinshi watches her walk away. He's not sure where to even begin to repair this. He's frustrated. Maomao is doing her best to pretend like Jinshi already left. Gaoshun is there listening closely. Suiren is there watching Maomao and wondering what has changed, but knows it's some bullshit because she says:

Suiren: For goodness' sake.

Yeah Suiren. I feel that in my bones. But when I say it there is usually an F bomb in there somewhere.

Maomao is having very complicated feelings about having seen her mother the woman in the annex. It's distracting her from her work. It seems bad, but it's a good sign that Maomao is starting to face her emotions and try to process them, rather than avoid them.

Suiren thinks Maomao's distraction has to do with the master of the residence so she decides it's time to say something. Suiren realizes that hints and subtly don't work so well for Maomao when it comes to herself. She needs very blunt advice, which Suiren provides.

Suiren encourages Maomao to ask Jinshi for some space for her apothecary supplies.

Suiren: You may appear apathetic, but you're keen. You know where you stand, and how to play the game.

Yes! Call her on her bullshit Suiren!

Suiren: Because somebody was born noble doesn't inherently make them any different from you or me.

She's telling Maomao to quit looking at Jinshi as some lofty official, see him as a person.

Suiren: If you view everything in terms of status, then you'll miss opportunities.

Thank you Suiren! Internalize that Maomao. Put it in your head and keep it there.

Maomao has an errand to run at the court pharmacy, and she's delighted. She'll sparkling here. If only Maomao could be employed here.

The odd court lady that smacked Maomao in the head a few episodes back has arrived. Maomao figures that this lady works in the guard house and handles herbs in her job, which is why she had a bitter smell earlier, here I thought she was on drugs. Maomao ponders why the lady dislikes her so much, when they've had so little interaction.

A little casual classism for flavor. The pharmacist bemoans that the court lady is required to come pick up drugs herself. Then realizes he said it in front of Maomao and tries to back track. It's not okay work for a court lady, but fine for servant. That comment right on the heals of Suiren's much better advice about class.

Maomao discovers that the item she was sent to pick up was potato flour and wonders why Jinshi needs it. She pieces together a few things about Jinshi's actions. She suspects his actions are part of a purification ceremony that would be used to perform ceremonial rights. Something a nobleman might do. Something that would be strange for a eunuch to do. I'm tired of this theme. Moving on.

Gaoshun and Jinshi are trying to piece together the mystery of Luomen, but Jinshi can't stop thinking about how things are so distant and confused between himself and Maomao, right now. And just to make sure Jinshi never gets a moments peace, Lakan arrives.

Lakan is in the same house where Maomao is right now, and on the one hand I'm hoping they don't run into each other for Maomao's well being, but on the other hand, let's get this plot moving along. It's time to throw Maomao to the wolves.

Question: why does Lakan bring his own beverage whenever he visits? Is he afraid of being poisoned?

Jinshi isn't even bothering to hide how irritated he is at this visit. That's telling. And maybe a mistake. Or maybe intentional.

Jinshi: It seems to me, that you had engaged in some dirty trickery. Lakan: How very rude. That's rich to hear from a thief like yourself.

Gasp! Jinshi a thief?! Go on!

Oh no! Lakan really was trying to get Maomao. He spent a decade trying to get Maomao? Maomao who is what? All of 17 or 18 here? Has he been trying to get Maomao out of the brothel since she was a child? With good intentions or bad ones? Lakan feels he's been made a fool. He tell Jinshi he's upset with him over this.

Jinshi is worried, pissed, and oh so intent.

Jinshi: So do you want your prize returned?

I'm fairly certain that Jinshi wouldn't do that, and is just moving the conversation to find out Lakan's intentions.

Lakan: Not quite. I will pay whatever it is you ask.

That's... a hell of a look from Jinshi. So intense! Jinshi fucking hates this guy.

Jinshi: And if I refuse?

Lakan: Well then, I suppose there is nothing I can do is there.

Which is a threat to wreck Jinshi's life! It's a declaration of war. Holy shit!

Lakan: How many people could defy a man of your rank? I could count every single one of them on one hand.

The imperial family maybe? Yup that's it. Jinshi knows that Lakan knows his true identity.

Oh my god. Lakan knows everything!

Lakan: I'm just concerned you know. About what my daughter would think.

He's threatening to expose the truth about Jinshi, and hits him where it hurts the most: Maomao. Jinshi was worried that Maomao may be this man's daughter, and Lakan just confirmed as much.

Jinshi is tense. Hands balled into fists, posture wary, as Lakan asks to meet Maomao. This asshole has been following Maomao. First at the brothel and now to Jinshi's residence.

Everyone one of Lakan's moves were so well played, and Jinshi... is trapped. He once again has to make a choice between the obligations of his station and his own personal desires. He can give this official what he is asking for and go on business as usual, after all what is one servant over another? It would be an easy decision for someone else other than Jinshi, if it were about someone else, other than Maomao.

Jinshi looks deep in thought when he comes upon Maomao while the sun is setting. Is something ending here?

Jinshi addresses Maomao as "apothecary." It's respectful in that it acknowledges her for her skills, she may even like being called this, but it's another sign of the distance between the two. I don't know the last time he called her by her name.

Jinshi seems very nervous to bring this up to Maomao. You can hear the tension in his voice. Unusual for Jinshi, when he is usually bold and shameless when interacting with Maomao. It's a sign of just how precarious things are between the two right now. Also, a sign of just how divided Jinshi is about even bringing this suggestion to Maomao.

Jinshi: There's... an official who wants to meet you sometime soon. ... It's...that weirdo I've been telling you about. His name's... Lakan.

A pause. Then a fricking jump scare of Maomao's intense glare! This glare isn't giving Jinshi chills in the fun way. She looks legit scary. It reminds me of a frightened animal that has been backed into a corner and has no choice left but to fight. Lakan is a line she will not cross. An absolute boundary. With one look she declares that there is nothing she won't do to avoid that meeting.

Jinshi: I'll find a way to let him down gently.

Jinshi, Jinshi, Jinshi.... what the hell are you going to do? If you can't convince Maomao to see Lakan, and you won't force her to do it, then your other choice is to go to war with Lakan.

Jinshi: I've never seen her make a face like that. I never want to see it again. Ever.

I hope he means that as I'm going to do everything I can to keep her protect her from Lakan. I hope this is a turning point for Jinshi, where he chooses Maomao in a real way. I hope he won't waver again on this, allowing Lakan room to maneuver Maomao and himself.

Maomao is distressed that Lakan has found her again. She goes to collect medicinal herbs. A familiar and comforting activity.

She is approached by Suirei who cares for the herb garden near the military officers' part of the palace. Maomao questions what Suirei is growing here and Suirei claims she planting a medicine for resurrection?

Maomao has a VERY strong reaction to that. Who has died in Maomao's life that she is that desperate to get back? A family member? Someone she loved? A patient she couldn't save?

Suirei claims to be joking. What a strange lady. Are we absolutely sure she's not on drugs? The music is unsettling in this scene and so is Suirei. She asks how good of an apothecary Maomao is then tells her she's going to plant morning glories here. I happen to know that those are poisonous! Is Suirei hoping to make a poison? Will she try to get Maomao to do it?

The sun is setting over the palace and the music is ominous. Is something serious about to happen in the next episode?

To start at the beginning: Episode 1

Next Episode:

Episode 19

#the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries #jinshi x maomao #jinshi #jinmao #maomao

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greenerteacups · 16 days

Note

Hey GTC, I have always been such a fan of your Tumblr and your engagement with the fandom. However I must say that as of late, the questions you’re being asked most often are essentially variants of “Will X happen?” or “Will Y character do Z like in the book?” or even, “I’m noticing Theme A, will it continue in future chapters?”

A significant element of the fun that you’ve created for Lionheart readers is that we don’t know which elements and events of the JKR texts you’ll preserve untouched and which you’ll turn into the sixth and seventh year Lionheart storylines. I adore making my guesses to which parts of canon you’ll play with and which parts you’ll completely and utterly upend. Unfortunately, questions that ask about canon events in books 5-7 ruin so much of the fun.

Historically, you’ve used the Ask box to provide us with analyses of your own work and characterizations, but I feel as if recently you are often indulging questions about books 5, 6, and 7. I hate to say it, but I even feel that your answers veer into spoiler territory. I used to lurk your Tumblr incessantly, but since I’ve started to see this influx in predictive questions these past couple weeks, I’ve been avoiding the app.

It’s such a gift that we get to engage with your work on such a vibrant epistolary and interactive space as your Tumblr. I know that you can’t control what fans ask, but I humbly request that you please consider refusing to answer questions that ask you to ponder future events. Thank you for your tender care to everyone in the fandom. ❤️‍🔥🦁🧡

Hey, what's up, dude. I hear you. Sorry about that.

The problem is that the line between spoilers and not spoilers is totally subjective, and the line between "spoilers that are fine" and "spoilers that bother me" is also totally subjective. I don't know where you are on it, but we probably don't line up, and that's okay. I just don't know how I'd begin to sort out questions that one person considers "too much" from what someone else just thinks is fun analysis. My hard rules are as follows: I don't answer any questions about future ships, events, or arcs (and I get a lot). I haven't revealed anything that I would be unhappy to discover in a Tumblr askbox instead of a fic itself. True, I've dropped teaser/trailer stuff for 6 and 7, but to be honest, even looking over the stuff I've posted recently — I hate to say it, but I disagree with you. It isn't spoilers. Not to me, anyway.

But that's just me! There's no right or wrong answer here, it's just a coordination problem of how we can both cultivate social media experiences that make us happy. For instance: I like answering questions about my fic. It makes me happy to talk to people who want to know what happens. It encourages me and gets me excited to write about it, and I don't believe that any of the content on my Tumblr spoils what's going to happen. I don't really want to stop doing that, so I'm not going to. If that means you and other readers whose spoiler thresholds are below mine can't engage with my Tumblr, that's a natural consequence of us having different attitudes about media, and it was bound to happen. I'm sorry that that's the case, but it would bring me much more grief for you to injure your reading experience than it would for you to avoid my (largely irrelevant) e-journal full of random metatext. I love my fic, and I love my readers, you most certainly included; I do not, candidly speaking, love my Tumblr account. And for what it's worth, I absolutely do not think anything I've written on here is worth diminishing your experience of a story you enjoy. It wouldn't jive with my philosophy of literature and art.

So here's what I got: I'll continue tagging spoilers about past and current events as [#lionheart spoilers], and if a question makes reference to events not published, I'll use the tag [#prognosticating]. That way you can block the tag, and other readers can enjoy content that fits under their threshold of non-spoilerism. If our thresholds still don't line up, then I think the only solution may really be to block the [#lionheart spoilers] tag altogether. That's probably not the answer you're looking for, but it's the best I can do.

#greenteacup asks #I am doing the best I can #it's hard to get questions about what's going to happen because I do try to give tidbits if i can't answer the main point #just so people will have something? but it's rough to know I'm disappointing people on both sides #as is inevitable really. those who want to know more and want to know less. you will never make everyone happy #but also— if a creator isn't writing stuff you want to read #I suspect you already know at some level the answer just has to be that you stop reading #I sometimes debate if having a Tumblr is worth the stress of trying to manage an internet presence #I generally think it is

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katbrando · 2 years

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being an artist is so fun it’s always a good time and never hard at all!!!!

#i hit this point in my last fandom where i stopped getting much of a response when i posted any art..#and i feeeeeel like that's happening again hfdkjshg #i can only assume its because i draw the same character over and over and over again and like . what else can be said #just makes me wanna not share anything at all in order to save myself the shame i feel when no one says anything #last time i got really in my head about it and that's where the burnout started bc i was trying to create constantly #bc i wanted a reponse literally ANY response just SOME attention and i would do anything for it #i DO NOT want to do that again !!!!! i draw for an audience of one and hat is Me so i should not be bothered if others have nothing to say #but it is still sooooooo hard oh my god it's Hard it's such a deep pit #like i posted si art and immediately deleted it bc i felt like i was annoying literally everybody around me #and then like two hours later i was like 'bitch who cares' but i had already deleted it so it felt too awkward to post again #my brain is such a bad place to be fhdskjgs.. can i create without it constantly ridiculing me #'you're an artist? fine post something prove it. oh you're posting art? wow you're annoying' leave me alone oh my god #hate that i feel like i have to have my existence validated 24/7.. half my identity is 'im an artist'#so if i'm not receiving attention related to that then i start to question my existence and i spiral so badly #definitely something to talk abt next time i go to therapy bc i refuse to let this anxiety destroy my love of art again

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pastadoughie · 2 months

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many people were confused about some of my previous posts, so for the sake of clarity i am condensing everything! tumblr has extremely transphobic moderation practices, often flagging completely innocent posts as explicit, solely for containing trans women in them or mentioning transgenderism. while letting untagged porn in sfw tags (ive literally seen porn tagged as "sfw agere") and blatent hatespeech, especially twards trans people (just look at the "gender critical" tag) go completely unchecked recently the CEO of tumblr had a big public hissyfit about people (rightfully) calling him transmysogenistic, going into random trans womens dms to harrass them, and saying that predstrogen saying she "hopes he explodes with hammers and then explodes again and hammers fly everywhere" is a death threat and saying he is calling the FBI on her (repeatedly misgendering her and calling her "it") and many bloggers, apon speaking out about it or even making harmless jokes (one trans woman posted a picture of a car and a hammer with the caption "reblog to scare matt" and got nuked for it) and many are very very angry (rightfully) about this whole affair and tumblr in general. if you would like to look into it i reccomend scrolling the "predstrogen" tag as she is the case most people are talking about at the moment. So, what can we do? this is clearly an ongoing issue, and, dispite having lost a lawsuit about their transphobic moderation in the past (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement) its clearly not gonna stop with just user complaints, as staff members are perfectly content to just go scorched earth on users who even so much as lightly poke fun at them well if you want to help you should contact the human rights commision (i will give clear details further down) ! you dont have to be in the US, nor be an adult to file, and it only takes a few minutes. this is the best and most effective method to fix this, because it hits tumblr where it hurts. human rights acencies have a lot of legal and financial power and tumblr CAN NOT just ignore them, and given that this will be the seccond time this is happening, the commisions shouldnt be playing nice anymore eaither. its really important that AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE FILE, and with different examples! while maybe your case might not be enough to prop up a lawsuit on its own, we need to prove a general trend. so every little bit counts! to respond to another question abt this ive gotten, as for what exactly to report, you should a) write about an act of discrimination youve recieved on tumblr that was eaither administered by a staff member OR that staff refused to give adequate moderation action in for example : a terf posted some blatent hatespeech targeted twards you, and you reported them, and staff looked at the issue and refused to persecute it. example 2 : you were unfairly flagged, deleted, or otherwise punished by a staff member and you are queer ( AND the post they banned you for has some kind of tie to your gender, ex : a sfw transition progress photo ) OR b) if you have not personally recieved something like that, please look for other peoples stories (THEY SHOULDNT BE HARD TO FIND, within the last couple of hours trans people have been being banned LEFT AND RIGHT for trying to speak on this. i would reccomend checking some of the tags related to what happened with predstrogen) and you should describe that incident as best as possible (be sure to disclose that you are speaking for someone else, ideally you should tell the story of someone you know, if possible.) you can also mention any reports you have made twards people posting blatent hatespeech that, opon reveiwing tumblr refused to prosecute dispite it being very obviously against terms of service. just so nobody gets confused about the filing process, im laying it out in more plain languadge!!

first you should email the SF HRC (san francisco human rights commision), at [email protected] and say something along these lines :

Hello, I am [full name] from [country or state] and I am filing a complaint against Tumblr, witch is owned by the parent company Automattic Inc. located at 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

Tumblr has had previous issues with the NYC DHR for their moderation being unfairly biased against trans women (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement).

Despite a legally binding agreement with the NYC DHR, staff members still regularly harrass users based on their gender or sexual orientations. For example : on [date of most recent infraction] [describe incident] (if you are describing an incident that did not happen to you specifically, say something like) This incident involves the user [username] who I am not affiliated with (or/) who I am filing on behalf of.

I can be reached for further inquiries about this incident at [email you want to talk over] or [phone number you want to talk over]. (if you would like to be anonymous) However, In the event of legal prosecution against Automattic I would refer to be kept anonymous, where possible, in court proceedings. alternatively, you can also call the SF HRC at : 415-252-2500, you can use the above text as a starting point for this as well, next you want to fill out the form for the NYC DHR (new york city department of human rights) here : https://www.nyc.gov/site/cchr/about/report-discrimination.page for company you wanna put : Automattic and/or Tumblr for address you wanna put : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003 for phone number you wanna put : (646) 513-4321 and for category of discrimination you can put : Discriminatory harassment and basis of discrimination you can put : Gender; Gender identity you can then use a similar script on the written section of the form. when describing a specific incident, you should attach as many screenshots and links as possible! (for links, include both a live link and an archival link, so take a capture with the internet archive and have that as an alternative, incase a staff member gets petty.) this should only take a few minutes at most, and it helps alot! you can fill this out if you are a minor, and you dont have to be a us resident, please please take the time!!! and, just to clarify because there are many posts going around that are confused about this tumblr moved offices to san francisco recently, so their main HQ is at : 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110 they DO still have an office in new york city, and thats where their PREVIOUS HQ was, the address is : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003

#art #my art #mspaint #rowens liddol guys #mspaint animations #the beast speaks #important shit #transgender #trans #predstrogen

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teaboot · 17 days

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This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

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evangelifloss · 1 month

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Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laois touden #laois dungeon meshi #ryoko kui #dungeon meshi analysis #autistic things #autism #adults with autism #autistic adult #neurodiversity #neurodivergent

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sellenite · 6 months

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cherry blossoms 01 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: phone sex, mutual masturbation (f! and m!), JOI (m! receiving), Choso's first orgasm, praise kink (but in the softest way possible), friends to lovers, soft-smut word count: 1.9K MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso who met you shortly after he met Yuji. He was wary of most people, but he thought your eyes were kind and pretty, and your voice was soothing and soft as you introduced yourself to him. He blushed when you asked him what his name was and he told you, still a little nervous. And then you smiled up at him, so sweet and bright, and told him yours and he swore it became his new favorite word.

virgin!Choso who started spending more time with you, because you made him feel safe. He was used to violence, used to being treated like a weapon by the people who had claimed to be his “allies.” But everything felt different with you. You helped teach him about the world, helped him to understand himself. You were patient and gentle, warm sunlight on the cold, barren existence that had been his life for so many years prior.

virgin!Choso who liked hearing you laugh more than anything. Sometimes he would make you laugh on accident, sometimes on purpose, but he didn’t really care either way. He liked watching the way your eyes creased at the corners, sometimes the tip of your nose. He liked when he made you laugh really hard too, when little tears would roll down your cheeks and the sounds of your giggles would be cut off by your panting. He made you laugh really hard today when he so innocently asked about something he had heard Yuji say to Megumi:

“Yuji was talking about something called ‘sloppy toppy’… Do you know where you get that from?”

You swore you were going to die of asphyxiation from the way your body convulsed and curled in on itself. Choso didn’t understand what was so funny, but he smiled as you wiped tears from your eyes.

virgin!Choso whose eyebrows knitted together intensely when you told him what “sloppy toppy” meant. He understood the basics of sex (as in he knew that it was how humans reproduced), but he had never experienced the desire for it or feelings of lust. But this new vocabulary word had introduced so many questions he had never considered before; how sex could just be for pleasure, how many different ways you could have it, what it felt like... The blush on your cheeks darkened as his questions turned more intimate, letting his genuine curiosity guide him.

“The first and most important thing about having sex is that you feel safe with the person you’re having it with,” you explained to him after a while of answering his questions.

“Safe like how I feel with you?” Choso asked you softly, looking into your eyes with his deep purple ones. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your cheeks blushing pink. You nodded softly, but gently changed the subject.

virgin!Choso who couldn’t help but go home that night and think about everything you had taught him. He thought of your pretty eyes as you explained everything to him in your soothing voice. He thought of the way your soft lips looked when you smiled or how they glistened when you wet them with your tongue. He laid in bed and felt an unfamiliar pressure in his pants, almost as if he was in pain. He shifted around, trying to get the feeling to go away but it felt like all he could focus on was his dick. He lifted up the waistband of his sweatpants to look at himself, seeing his cock resting stiffly against his stomach, swelling up as fluid leaked from the tip of it. He groaned low in his throat, suddenly wishing you were there with him in his room. He wanted you to be there to help him; to explain in your soft, sweet voice what was happening to him, why his cock was so hard and why it was dripping so much.

virgin!Choso who called you because he just couldn’t take it anymore and he didn’t know what to do.

“Choso? Everything okay?” You asked him in your sweet voice, slightly concerned because it was almost 1:00 AM at this point and he usually didn't call you this late.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he held the phone up to his ear with one hand, the other pushing the waistband of his sweatpants down to free his throbbing cock. He groaned at the feeling of the fabric brushing against his sensitive balls as he shifted them down.

“It’s so hard right now and it keeps leaking… I don’t know what to do,” Choso’s deep voice whined over the phone.

“It’s-? Ohhh…” You felt your breath catch in your throat as his words sank in, sitting up in your bed as you heard his needy tone. You bit into your lip, feeling a steady ache between your thighs building at the sound of his voice alone. You took a deep breath as you collected yourself the best you could.

“Umm, well… Sometimes the best way to make it go away is to make yourself cum,” you explained softly, feeling an odd mix of embarrassment and arousal at the same time. Choso was your friend, and he was calling you so innocently about his problem, he probably didn’t even realize how erotic it was.

virgin!Choso who did in fact realize how erotic it was when hearing your soft voice on the other end of the line made his cock twitch.

“I don’t know how…” Choso groaned softly in response to your suggestion, watching the fluid leak from the tip of his aching cock and drip onto the bottom of his stomach.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, simultaneously tensing your thighs together as your own need grew rapidly. You bit your lip as your next response bounced around in your head for a few moments before you answered.

“I could… Tell you how… If you want,” you offered softly, your voice like a sweet whisper in Choso’s ear. Choso nodded quickly as his hand gripped onto his phone a little harder.

“Please,” he said softly, and it took everything in your power to not moan at how hot his husky voice sounded when he was so desperate for you.

virgin!Choso whose phone was now on speaker as you guided him through how to touch himself. He wrapped his large palm around his girth, groaning in pleasure as you told him to use the leaky fluid from his tip to slide his hand down his length. He listened obediently, his breath shaky as he followed the rhythm of your voice, telling him to slide his hand down… up… down… up… down… up…

He couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your voice controlled his every movement, feeling his hips twitching, jerking up into his hand instinctively. The sounds were so erotic: his whimpers through the phone; the soft, wet sounds you could hear coming from the movement of his palm over his skin. You were trying so hard not to touch yourself, your thighs squeezing together impossibly tight as you bit into your lip to suppress the urge to moan back in response to his whiny breaths.

“Squeeze your fist a little tighter when you get to your tip, Choso… Does that feel good?” You asked him, your own breathing getting a little heavy from trying to remain composed.

“Yes… Yes… Feels so good,” Choso whimpered as he fisted his cock on the other end of the line. You let out a soft moan of your own. You didn’t even remember moving your pillow, but there it was, in between your legs as you humped your aching, panty-clad pussy into it.

virgin!Choso who heard your soft moan and he almost came on the spot, his breath stuttering as he heard your angelic voice sound so lewd.

“D-do that again… Please,” he begged softly, increasing the pace of his hand as his hips thrusted up into the tight grip of his fist. His head was tilted back into his pillow, eyes almost closed, his lids so heavy from pleasure. You could envision all of it now as your own eyes squeezed shut, grinding into your pillow a little harder so the seam of the casing rubbed against your swollen clit. You heard the wet sounds of his fist sliding up and down his shaft and you moaned a little louder as you rubbed your clit into the pillow.

Choso whimpered as he heard your moans through the phone. He could feel a coiling pleasure building in his lower body quickly now, every thrust into his fist making him feel even more desperate. The sounds he was making were breathy and frantic as he braced against the dizzying pressure of the newfound sensations. His body was acting on pure instinct, pushing himself rapidly towards an unknown edge.

He whimpered your name out and you knew he was close. Your own arousal only increased as you imagined it was him you were humping so desperately as he whined beneath you. Your fingers slipped into your panties, sliding into your soaking hole as you rocked against them, moaning loudly as you felt your own climax building.

“K-keep stroking your cock for me, Cho… Want you to cum nice and hard for me, okay?” Your voice was breathless and punctuated by your own soft moans as you heard Choso groaning and whimpering in agreement as he loudly fucked into his fist. His back arched as he thrusted his swollen cock up into his palm, wishing it were your hand, your mouth, or the space between your thighs that he now realized he was longing to see.

virgin!Choso who sobbed your name out as he came into his fist, fucking up into his hand as ropes of his warm cum shot out of his swollen cock and fell back onto his hand, his abdomen, his thighs... His balls were so heavy—his thick cock twitching with every spurt that released from his slit—and his hips jerked up as he painted his body with his seed. He whimpered as it kept coming, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he panted and moaned loudly. You could hear him whine louder from the other end of the phone, as you brought yourself closer and closer to your own climax.

“So good, Choso… You did so good,” you praised him breathlessly, your own body leaning forward as you moaned into the phone. You rolled your hips furiously into the pillow, bolstered by his desperate whimpers as you came around your fingers. You whined for him now too, riding out your own high as Choso’s breathing slowly returned to normal on the other side of the phone.

virgin!Choso who broke the silence first.

“Did you… Did you cum too?” He asked breathlessly, plump lips parted slightly as he stared up at his ceiling, eyes still half-lidded as he came down from the high of his first orgasm.

You swallowed as your body relaxed into your bed, pillow still trapped between your thighs.

“Um yeah, I did,” you laughed a little nervously. The reality of what just occurred between the two of you was sinking in now that you both had climaxed. There was some silence on both ends as you both breathed heavily.

“Good,” Choso said softly, smiling up at his ceiling. “Maybe next time… We could do it together?”

virgin!Choso who would not be a virgin for much longer after that night!

PSA: thank you so much for reading <3

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x reader

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espinosaurusrexex · 2 months

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Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket.

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster.

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes.

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other.

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him.

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side.

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk.

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them.

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.”

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold.

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room.

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.”

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that.

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do.

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?”

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job.

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude.

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile.

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision.

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now.

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year.

There was just one problem.

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes.

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist.

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again.

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event.

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem.

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now.

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors.

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail.

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor.

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well.

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought.

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye.

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant.

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them.

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in.

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward.

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless.

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours.

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.”

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to.

“Wait you’re working for SPS?”

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body.

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again.

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating.

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind.

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile.

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you.

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready.

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys.

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it.

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic.

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them.

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder.

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world.

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea.

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen.

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.”

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.”

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office.

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant.

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary.

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.”

And so you did.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen.

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh.

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat.

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened.

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside.

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly.

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath.

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that.

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.”

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal.

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation.

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato.

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been.

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer.

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises.

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door.

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain.

“He’s very admirable for that.”

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional.

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face.

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep.

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now.

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head.

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.”

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside.

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar.

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous.

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought.

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop.

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled.

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home.

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right.

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod.

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table.

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown.

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.”

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing.

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day.

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched.

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?”

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known.

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand.

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower.

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home.

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes.

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door.

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...”

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest.

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek.

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself.

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him.

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen.

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug.

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer.

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed.

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture.

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away.

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking.

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body.

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly.

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it.

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless.

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day.

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You.

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence.

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair.

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided.

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him.

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you.

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him.

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you.

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day.

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve.

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us.

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind.

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture.

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve.

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face.

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed.

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again.

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected.

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered.

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you.

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same.

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again.

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew.

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent.

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.”

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer.

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?”

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again.

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet.

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight.

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head.

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile.

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla.

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat.

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all.

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop.

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?”

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name.

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile.

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted.

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth.

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again.

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings.

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions.

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire.

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time.

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future.

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed.

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky.

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out.

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away.

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them.

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now.

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth.

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it.

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome.

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it.

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city?

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement.

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose.

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours.

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer.

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint.

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect.

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him.

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating.

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans.

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath.

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear.

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you.

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time.

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you.

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips.

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern.

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise.

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him.

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them.

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers.

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest.

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy.

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up.

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap.

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.”

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip.

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal.

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then.

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit.

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult.

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you.

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy.

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm.

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance.

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back.

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.”

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his.

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs.

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer.

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth.

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of.

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy.

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:

Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

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