song: We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night by Sabrina Carpenter
paring: pre-wakanda!bucky x f!reader
summary: your relationship feels like itâs coming apart, held together only by the hope and intimacy youâre still clinging to. bucky keeps pulling away from you, haunted by his past, by the people he hurt, by the fear that the darkness in him might spill onto you. he loves you deeply, but heâs convinced that loving you is dangerous. so he tries to let you go before he believes heâll ruin you too.
warnings: angst, sad bucky, struggling relationship, brief smut: oral (m! receiving), pnv, mentions of bruising and nail scratching. some fluff but its lowkey like fake because its actually sad? (lmk if i missed anything)
word count: Â 2.9k (this was supposed to be a drabble ngl ;-;)
a/n: lets be honest, i didnât proof read. i apologize in advance for the ANGST youâre gonna encounter. i heard an audio of sebastian stan getting emotional and iâve been singing this song all day so i lowkey had to write this. sorry not sorry, i love u all. xoxo, enjoy :)
âË¡ masterlist
bullshit repeats itself, is that how the saying goes?
you watch him pace across the living room floor, his movements sharp and erratic. the worn wooden boards creak under his weight with every step, a rhythm that's become all too familiar in your shared apartment. it's three in the morning, and neither of you has slept. the argument started hours ago, though you can barely remember what triggered it this time. something about him flinching when you reached for him in the dark, something about the nightmares that have been getting worse again.
"i can't do this anymore," he says for what must be the hundredth time, his voice raw and broken. "i'm poison to you. everything i touch turns to ash."
your fingers twist in the hem of your oversized t-shirt â his, actually â as you watch him. bucky barnes, the man you've loved since you met him in romania, looks more like a ghost than a person tonight. his eyes are hollowed out, haunted by things he won't speak of, things that live in the dark spaces between his memories and his reality. you know he's thinking about hydra, about the blood on his hands, about all the lives he's taken. you know he's thinking about how unworthy he is of your love.
been here a thousand times (selective memory, though)
"we've been here before, buck," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "we always work through it."
he stops pacing and turns to face you, his blue eyes clouded with pain. "that's just it. we shouldn't have to 'work through it.' normal couples don't have to 'work through' the fact that one of them is a brainwashed assassin who could snap at any moment."
"you're not an assassin anymore," you counter, standing up and walking toward him. "that's not who you are."
"but it's part of me," he says, his voice cracking. "it's in my blood, in my bones. i look at you sometimes and i see everything i could destroy. i see how fragile you are, how... breakable. and i'm terrified that one day i'll be the one who breaks you."
you reach out to touch his face, but he flinches away from your hand like it's fire. the rejection stings, but you've learned not to take it personally. it's not you he's rejecting â it's the darkness inside himself that he's afraid will taint you.
i hear it in his eyes, he sees it in my tone
"i'm not as fragile as you think," you say, your voice stronger now. "i knew what i was getting into when we started this. i knew about your past, about the winter soldier."
"no," he shakes his head, his movements frantic. "you didn't. you couldn't have possibly understood what it would be like. the nightmares, the flashbacks, the way i freeze up sometimes. the way i can't stand to be touched when i'm having a bad day. you deserve someone whole, someone who can give you everything you need."
"i need you," you say simply. "just you. not some perfect version of you, not some sanitized version. i need the real you â nightmares and all."
is what it is and it's predictable
"and what happens when the real me hurts you?" he asks, his voice barely audible. "what happens when i have a nightmare and i don't wake up in time? what happens when hydra comes for me and you get caught in the crossfire?"
"then we deal with it," you say, stepping closer until there's barely any space between you. "together. that's what couples do, buck. they face things together."
he looks down at you, his expression unreadable. you can see the war raging behind his eyes â the desire to stay warring with the conviction that he should leave. you know he's right to be scared. you know the risks. but you also know that life without him would be a kind of death, a slow fading into gray nothingness.
all the "i love you's" and "i'm sorry's" were said
"i love you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "god, i love you so much it hurts. and that's why i have to let you go."
"i'm sorry," you reply, your own voice trembling now. "i'm sorry you're hurting. i'm sorry i can't fix it for you."
you reach up to cup his face in your hands, and this time he doesn't pull away. his skin is cold under your palms, his jaw tight with tension. you can feel the slight tremor in his muscles, the constant readiness for a fight that never comes.
we had our sex and then we made amends, that's right
your lips find his in a desperate, hungry kiss. it's not gentle or sweet â it's teeth and tongues and bruising force, a battle of wills and desires. his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepens the kiss. there's an urgency to your movements, a frantic need to connect, to bridge the chasm that's been widening between you for months.
clothes are shed in a flurry of motion, discarded on the floor like yesterday's arguments. his mouth trails down your neck, leaving a path of fire in its wake. your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing everything he has to give.
called it a false alarm to all of our friends
he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. the door slams shut behind you, sealing you in the bubble of your shared world â a world where there are no hydra agents, no nightmares, no past traumas. there's only the two of you, only this desperate need to feel alive, to feel connected, to feel something other than pain.
then we almost broke up again last night
his movements are rough, almost punishing, as he enters you. there's no tenderness here, no gentle exploration. this is raw and primal, a desperate attempt to outrun the demons that chase him. you meet his intensity with your own, your nails digging into his back, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. tears stream down your face, but you're not sure if they're from pleasure or pain. maybe both.
(we almost got so close)
afterward, you lie tangled together in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and regret. his head rests on your chest, his ear pressed against your heart as if he's trying to memorize its rhythm. your fingers stroke through his hair, gentle now, soothing.
"don't leave me," you whisper into the darkness. "please, buck. don't leave me."
he doesn't answer, but you feel his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. it's the closest he'll come to saying yes, and you cling to it like a lifeline.
and when i reached to pull the plug
morning comes too soon, as it always does. the first rays of sunlight filter through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets. bucky is already awake, watching you with those haunted eyes of his. you can see the decision has been made again â he's going to try to leave.
i swear, he starts working out
"coffee?" you ask, sitting up and pulling the sheet around you.
he nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "yeah. coffee."
you make your way to the kitchen, your movements stiff and sore. the routine is familiar, comforting in its normalcy. you measure out the coffee grounds, add water, press start. the machine gurgles to life, filling the small space with the rich aroma of brewing coffee.
and on the days i'm a little much
bucky appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. he's pulled on a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare. the morning light catches the silver of his left arm, making it gleam. there are new scratches on his chest â from your nails, from last night's desperate coupling. you feel a pang of guilt, of shame.
that's when i tell them how sweet he treats me
"i was thinking," he says, his voice still rough from sleep. "maybe we could go to the farmer's market today. get some fresh vegetables. make that pasta you like."
your heart leaps at his words. it's an olive branch, a peace offering. it's him trying, even when it's hard, even when everything in him is screaming that he should run.
and how no other boys compete
"i'd like that," you say, turning to face him fully. "i'd really like that."
he crosses the distance between you, his flesh hand coming up to cup your cheek. his thumb strokes across your skin, gentle, reverent. "i'm sorry about last night," he says softly. "about... everything."
"you don't have to be sorry," you reply, leaning into his touch. "we're in this together, remember?"
he nods, his eyes closing briefly.
i know how it looks, i know how it sounds
the farmer's market is bustling with activity, a riot of colors and sounds and smells. you weave through the crowd, bucky's hand clasped firmly in yours. it's a simple gesture, but it feels monumental â a declaration to the world, and to yourselves, that you're still here, still fighting.
least we'll give 'em something to talk about
you buy tomatoes and basil and fresh pasta. bucky finds a stand selling homemade bread, still warm from the oven. he tears off a piece and
feeds it to you, his fingers brushing against your lips. the gesture is so domestic, so normal, it makes your heart ache. you catch the eye of an older woman browsing nearby, and she gives you a knowing smile. you wonder what she sees â a young couple in love, or something else? does she see the tension in bucky's shoulders, the way his eyes constantly scan the crowd? does she see the faint bruises on your wrists from where he held you too tight last night? or does she just see two people holding hands, sharing a moment on a sunny saturday morning?
all the "i love you's" and "i'm sorry's" were said (sorry's were said)
"i love you," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. it's not the desperate, broken declaration from last night. it's simpler, steadier, like he's trying to convince himself as much as you.
"i love you too," you reply, squeezing his hand. the words feel both true and false, a promise you're not sure you can keep but will die trying.
we had our sex and then we made amends, that's right
back home, you put away the groceries while bucky starts a pot of sauce. the domesticity of it all feels surreal, like you're playing house in someone else's life. you move around each other in the small kitchen, a careful dance of avoidance and connection. his hip brushes against yours as he reaches for a knife, and you both freeze for a moment, the air crackling with unspoken tension.
called it a false alarm to all of our friends
"steve called," he says, his back to you as he chops garlic. "while you were in the shower. wanted to see if we wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow."
all your friends knew⌠obviously they knew, they could tell. steve invited you guys for dinner when he sensed something was off, you guys knew that.
"and?" you prompt, leaning against the counter.
"i told him weâd go," he replies. "told him we were good."
you close your eyes, a wave of relief washing over you. it's a lie, of course. you're not good. you're hanging on by a thread, but it's a lie you can live with, a lie you need to believe. it's the false alarm you'll send out to your friends, the signal that everything is fine, that the fire has been contained once again.
then we almost broke up again last night
the sauce simmers on the stove, filling the apartment with its rich aroma. bucky stands behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a rhythm that's both comforting and terrifying. you lean into him, letting yourself believe, just for a moment, that this could be enough, that this fragile peace could last.
you say we're driftin' apart
"we can't keep doing this," he says, his voice soft but firm. "this cycle. the fighting, the... making up. it's not healthy. it's not fair to you." he added, his face slightly frowning.
i said, "yeah, i fucking know"
you turn in his arms, looking up at him. "i know," you say, your voice sharp with frustration. "i know it's not healthy, bucky. what do you want me to do? let you go? let you run away and pretend you can escape this by yourself?"
big deal, we've been here before
"maybe that would be better," he says, his eyes pleading. "for you, at least."
"don't you dare say that," you snap, pushing away from him. "don't you dare pretend that leaving me would be some noble sacrifice. it's not. it's cowardice. you're scared, so you're running."
and we'll be here tomorrow
the fight escalates, words flying like shrapnel. old wounds are reopened, new ones are created. you're both crying now, angry, hurtful tears. you say things you don't mean, things you can't take back. he tells you he's a monster, you tell him he's being selfish. it's the same script, the same scene you've acted out a hundred times before.
oh
and then, as suddenly as it started, it's over. the anger burns itself out, leaving behind the familiar ashes of regret and sorrow. he sinks to the floor, his head in his hands. you stand over him, your chest heaving, your anger replaced by a wave of overwhelming sadness.
all the "i love you's" and "i'm sorry's" were said
"i'm sorry," he whispers, his voice muffled by his hands. "i'm so sorry, doll. i don't mean to... i just..."
"i know," you say, your voice softening. you sink to the floor beside him, pulling him into your arms. "i know."
we had our sex and then we made amends, that's right
he's crying now, really crying, silent, shuddering sobs that wrack his entire body. you hold him, rocking him gently, murmuring meaningless words of comfort. his tears soak through your shirt, hot against your skin. you can feel the desperation in his touch, the way he clings to you like you're the only solid thing in a world that's constantly shifting beneath his feet.
called it a false alarm to all of our friends
later, after the tears have subsided, after you've wiped his face with your thumbs and kissed his eyelids, you lead him to the bedroom. the sun is setting now, casting long shadows across the room. the light is soft and golden, making everything look beautiful, even the broken parts.
then we almost broke up again, oh
he lies back on the bed, his eyes closed, his expression weary. you straddle him, your hands resting on his chest. you can feel his heart beating under your palms, a frantic, desperate rhythm. you lean down, your hair falling around his face, and kiss him. it's a gentle kiss, a tender kiss, a kiss that says everything you can't put into words.
we almost broke up, we almost broke up again
his hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. his eyes open, and the look in them takes your breath away. it's a mixture of love and pain, hope and despair, a reflection of your own tangled emotions.
we almost broke up, we almost broke up again
you move against him, a slow, deliberate rhythm. there's no urgency this time, no desperation. it's slow and sweet and heartbreaking. it's an apology, a promise, a prayer. it's you saying, without words, that you're here, that you're not going anywhere, that you'll keep picking up the pieces as long as he keeps letting you.
gave me his whole heart and i gave him head and then
you take him into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate. this is your offering, your sacrifice. this is the one thing you can give him that no one else can, the one thing that can silence the demons, at least for a little while. his hands tangle in your hair, his hips rising to meet you. you can hear his breath hitch, can feel the tension coiling in his body. you look up at him, and his eyes are closed, his head thrown back in ecstasy. in this moment, he's not the winter soldier, not a victim of hydra, not a broken man. he's just bucky, your bucky, and he's yours.
we almost broke up, we almost broke up
afterward, you lie curled up together, the sheets tangled around your legs. the room is dark now, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside, casting a faint glow across the room. you can hear the sound of traffic, the distant wail of a siren, the normal sounds of a city that's still alive, still moving, even when you feel like your world has stopped.
yeah, we almost broke up again
"stay," he whispers, his voice thick with sleep. "please, just... stay."
you tighten your grip on him, your face buried in his chest. "i'm not going anywhere," you reply, your voice muffled by his skin. "i'm right here."
you know it's not a solution. you know it's not a fix. you know you'll be here again, in this same place, having this same fight, making this same desperate, heartbreaking choice. but for now, in the quiet darkness of your shared bed, it's enough. it has to be.
âË¡ masterlist
*also thanks @uzmacchiato for the gorgeous banners <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
summary: you head to a famous carnival with your lifelong best friends, steve and bucky, expecting nothing but rides and sugar, only to find bucky brought another girl along. the night twists through neon lights, sharp comments, unexpected jealousy, and bucky defending you when you least expect it. when steve heads out early, you and bucky end up alone under the glowing sky, stumbling into soft moments, shared thrills, and a spark that feels impossible to ignore.
warnings: pure fluff, cursing, friendship, romance, no use of y/n.
word count: 8.2k
song inspo: sugar talking by sabrina carpenter
a/n: ugh i wrote this because i went to a carnival recently and i had so many ideas for this while on the ferris wheel!!! Carnivals are so fun and this story was SO CUTE, i was literally giggling and kicking my feet while editing this EEEK! (i spent too much time on this so i didnât proof read, sorry!!)
âË¡ masterlist
you, bucky, and steve had been a trio since you were all in sandbox together, your three little buckets making a perfect triangle in the golden sand. steve and bucky were born in the same year, two peas in a pod, while you trailed behind them, the tagalong little sister they never actually minded having around. growing up, it was always bucky with the easy charm and the devil-may-care grin, steve with the steady heart and the righteous gaze, and you, the quiet observer who catalogued every stolen glance and every shared secret. it was no surprise to anyone that when your college acceptance letter arrived, you were bound for the same sprawling university campus as them, a fact that had you all bouncing on the balls of your feet with a giddiness that felt like pure, unadulterated sunshine.
college life was a whirlwind of caffeine-fueled study sessions in the library, the smell of old books and stale coffee, your constant companions. you were a sophomore now, navigating the sprawling campus with a bit more confidence than you had as a freshman, but still feeling like you were playing catch-up to bucky and steve, who were juniors and seemed to have this whole thing figured out. bucky, with his effortlessly tousled brown hair and eyes the color of a summer sky just before a storm. he had the campus reputation for being a bit of a heartbreaker. you'd watched him from the sidelines, metaphorically speaking, as he dated a string of girls: the cheerleader, the poetry major, the girl from his chemistry class. each one was beautiful and bright, and each one eventually faded away, leaving bucky unscathed and charming as ever. steve, on the other hand, was the steady one, the one who had a serious girlfriend or two, relationships that were built on a foundation of mutual respect and shared values.
you had always, always had a crush on bucky. it was a fact as constant as the north star, a secret you kept tucked away in the deepest corner of your heart. he was harmlessly flirty with everyone, his compliments as easy and natural as breathing, and you were always on the receiving end of them. "hey, beautiful," he'd say, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked across the quad. "that color looks amazing on you." or, "don't study too hard, sweetheart, wouldn't want you to burn out that brilliant brain of yours." and every time, you'd feel a little flutter in your chest, a tiny spark of hope that you'd immediately stamp out. you were too scared of messing up the perfect, fragile thing the three of you had. you were a unit, a tripod, and you wouldn't risk that for anything, not even for the possibility of something more with him. so you smiled, and you laughed, and you pushed your feelings down, down, down, convincing yourself it was all just a part of who bucky was; a charming, slightly flirty player who didn't mean anything by it.
it was a tuesday, and you were crammed into a lecture hall for your intro to sociology class, the professor's voice a monotonous drone that was doing a poor job of competing with the glorious sunshine streaming through the tall windows. thankfully this was one of the few classes you thoroughly enjoyed on campus. not because of the teacher, but because of two of your best friends, one being a gorgeous tall and beefy frame that sat next to you.
the three of you didnât end up in this class by accident, no. you planned for this. you remember having forced bucky and steve to sit down and create a plan of their semester classes up until their graduation date. now, when it came to choosing the electives, you all agreed to pick sociology together, hoping it was interesting enough to keep you guys entertained for a semester.
you were scribbling notes, your pen scratching against the paper, when bucky, who was sitting next to you, nudged your elbow. you glanced over, and he was grinning, that same mischievous, boyish grin that had gotten the three of you into more trouble than you could count.
"guess what i got," he whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial.
you raised an eyebrow, trying to focus on the professor's diagram of social stratification. "a passing grade on your last exam?" you teased.
"ha ha, very funny," he said, rolling his eyes. "no, better. way better." he reached into his backpack and pulled out three neon green tickets, the kind that looked like they'd been printed at a cheap carnival. "the traveling carnival is in town this weekend. the big one. the one with the roller coaster and the giant ferris wheel. i got us three tickets."
your eyes widened, and for a moment, you forgot all about social stratification. the carnival was a legendary event, a temporary city of lights and sounds that set up on the outskirts of town for one weekend every fall. you'd been talking about wanting to go for weeks, but the tickets were notoriously expensive and sold out fast. "bucky, are you serious?" you breathed, your heart doing a little leap. "how did you even get these?"
"i have my ways," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "i know a guy who knows a guy. but yeah, i'm serious. for friday night. you, me, and stevie. we're gonna go."
on your other side, steve, who had been pretending to be absorbed in his textbook, leaned over. "the carnival? nice, buck!" he said, giving bucky a fist bump in front of you, his face lighting up. "i've been wanting to try that deep-fried everything stand."
you felt a wave of pure, unadulterated happiness wash over you. it was just going to be the three of you, just like old times. "this is amazing, bucky," you said, your voice full of genuine gratitude. "thank you. i didn't think i'd be able to go."
"of course," he said, his smile softening as he looked at you. "wouldn't leave you guys out." he reached over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek for a fleeting second. it was a simple, friendly gesture, but it sent a jolt through you all the same. "it's gonna be great."
the rest of the week passed in a blur of classes and assignments, but the thought of the carnival was a constant, bright spot in your mind. you found yourself daydreaming about it during your lectures, imagining the neon lights reflecting in bucky's eyes, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy hanging in the air, the sound of laughter and screams echoing from the rides. when friday finally arrived, you felt a strange, unfamiliar sense of nervous energy buzzing under your skin. you were in your dorm room, staring at your closet, a feeling you couldn't quite identify swirling in your stomach.
you should have just thrown on your usual jeans and a hoodie. that was your go-to, your uniform. but instead, you found yourself pulling out a pair of dark-wash, tiny, denim shorts that you usually saved for special occasions, and a soft, dark red sweater. you spent an unusual amount of time on your hair, trying to get it to fall in just the right way, and you even dug out a tube of mascara and a hint of lip gloss. you caught your reflection in the mirror, a flicker of self-consciousness making you blush. what were you doing? this was just bucky and steve. you'd known them your entire life. you'd seen them with food poisoning and broken arms and terrible haircuts. why did it smatter what you looked like?
a little voice in the back of your head whispered, âbecause it's bucky.â but you quickly shoved that voice aside, telling yourself you were just being silly. you were just excited to go to the carnival. that was all. you slid on your shoes and headed out to meet them, your heart thumping a little faster than usual.
they were waiting for you by the main entrance of your dorm building, just like they always were. steve was leaning against the brick wall, scrolling through his phone, and bucky was standing next to him, his hands shoved in his pockets, a small, thoughtful smile on his face. when he saw you, his smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"hey, look who it is," he said, pushing off the wall and opening his arms for a hug. you walked into them, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, something clean and woodsy. "ready to have your mind blown?"
"always," you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. when you pulled back, you noticed someone standing a few feet behind him. she was tall and blonde, with a perfectly manicured smile and a cute miniskirt that looked like it belonged in a club, not at a dusty carnival. she was looking at bucky with an expression of proprietary interest, and your stomach did a little flip-flop that had nothing to do with excitement.
"chloe, this is," bucky said your name, introducing you and turning to the girl and then back to you. bucky repeated your name, continuing with the introductions â, this is chloe."
your smile froze on your face. "oh," you said, trying to recover quickly. "hi! It's really nice to meet you,â your smile more welcoming by the second.
"you too," chloe said, her voice smooth as silk, but her eyes were cool as they raked over you. "bucky's told me so much about you,â she said plainly, still eyeing you.
you glanced at bucky, who was rubbing the back of his neck, a slight flush on his cheeks. "yeah, well, i hope all good things," you said, trying to joke, but it fell a little flat.
"i hope you don't mind that i invited her," he said, turning to you and steve, his expression a little apologetic. "i bought an extra ticket."
"of course not," steve said, ever the peacemaker, stepping forward to offer chloe a friendly smile. "the more the merrier."
you got lost in your thoughts for a second. you recognized her name from campus whispers, a sophomore in your year who was rumored to be as sharp as broken glass and twice as evil. you'd always given people the benefit of the doubt, assuming most rumors were just little white lies born from jealousy or boredom.
bucky's eyes had lit up when he'd mentioned her joining them, a bright, eager look that you'd rarely seen directed at anyone else. you felt a little pang of jealousy, but ultimately shrugged it off because you knew he didnât like you like that. you had no right to feel that way. you were just his friend. and besides, maybe she was nice. maybe all the rumors were wrong.
the carnival was a sensory explosion from the moment you stepped through the gates. the sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of orange and pink, and the entire place was buzzing with a chaotic, joyful energy. the air was thick with the smells of popcorn, fried dough, and sweet, spun sugar, all mingling with the faint scent of diesel from the generators. neon lights in every color imaginable blinked and pulsed, casting a kaleidoscope of reflections on the wet pavement. the sound system was a cacophony of upbeat pop music, the delighted shrieks of people on the rides, and the booming voice of a carnival barker promising a prize to anyone who could âknock down the milk bottles!â
"wow," you breathed, your eyes wide with wonder. it was even better than you'd imagined. "this is incredible."
"told you," bucky said, his voice full of pride. he was standing close to chloe, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. "so, what first? the tilt-a-whirl? the haunted house?"
"definitely the roller coaster," you exclaimed, pointing towards the massive metal structure that loomed over the rest of the carnival like a giant, skeletal beast. its tracks twisted and turned in impossible loops, and you could hear the screams of its riders echoing across the fairgrounds.
"i don't think so," chloe said, wrinkling her nose. "i just got my hair done. and i don't want to get whiplash."
"oh," you said quickly, your enthusiasm deflating slightly. "right. well, maybe the ferris wheel then? we could see the whole town from the top,â you smiled.
"that's a bit... boring, don't you think?" chloe said, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her chin. "how about we play some games first? i want a prize." she looked up at bucky, batting her lashes and smiling "are you gonna win me that teddy bear bucky?"
bucky's chest seemed to puff up a little. "for you? anything," he said, half joking and half flirting, his voice a low, a charming rumble. he led them over to a booth where a man with a grizzled face was gesturing towards a pyramid of milk bottles. steve followed, shooting you an apologetic look over his shoulder. you trailed behind them, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.
you watched as bucky paid for three balls, his muscles flexing in his t-shirt as he wound up for the throw. he was a natural athlete, and it showed. the first ball flew through the air and knocked down all three bottles in the front row. chloe clapped her hands delicately and smiled. the second ball took out another row. but the third ball, aimed at the final, most stubborn bottle, bounced off the rim and flew wide.
"so close," the carny said, a smirk playing on his lips.
"let me try," steve said, stepping up. he was strong, deceptively so, and his first throw sent the remaining bottles flying. "there we go," he said, a triumphant grin on his face.
ânice stevie!â you added, grinning and looking proud.Â
the carny sighed and gestured towards a wall of prizes. "take your pick."
steve reached for a purple octopus, but chloe was already pointing at the small teddy bear in the top corner. "the big one, steve," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "bucky almost got it for me."
âalmost.â you muttered quietly under your breath, trying not to roll your eyes.
steve's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, but he nodded gamely and pointed to the bear. the carny grumbled as he unhooked it and handed it over. it was small, furry, and she immediately wrapped her arms around it, snuggling into its fuzzy brown fur.
"my hero," she cooed, looking up at bucky, not steve.Â
âhe didnât even fucking win it for youâ you whispered quietly to yourself, turning your head to hide your annoyed expression.
you really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she made it so fucking hard. you werenât really sure if you were more angry that she was dick-riding bucky or the fact that she might actually literally dick-ride him. but if there was one thing you knew how to do was push your emotions to the side. youâve done it with bucky for years, how hard can it be to hide your growing annoyance for just a night.
you immediately snapped back into reality when you heard chloe ask, âwhat was that?â while tilting her head and giving the fakest smile youâd ever seen.
âoh nothing,â you added, scrunching your nose and shaking your head.
"buck, what should i name him?" she presses.
"how about barnaby?" bucky suggested, his eyes soft as he looked at her.
you felt a little sick to your stomach, like you might actually throw up. so you turned to steve, who was already giving you a side-eye, a wry smile on his face. "come on," he said, jerking his head towards a ride that looked like a giant swinging pendulum. "let's go on that thing. i need a break for a minute." he teased, widening his eyes and shaking his head as he walked.
you laughed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "you and me both," you said. "that thing looks like it could make a person's brain fall out of their ears."
âare you talking about the ride or chloe? because if its chloe that was a great metaphorâ steve added, nudging your shoulder to make you laugh.
you let out a small chuckle. steve always knew how to cheer you up.
"come on, lets find out if this ride will scramble that smart head of yours," he said, ruffling your hair before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the ride. you glanced back at bucky and chloe, who were already lost in their own little world, chloe stroking the bear's head while bucky whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. you pushed the image away and focused on steve, whose warm, steady presence was a comforting anchor in the sea of unfamiliar emotions.
the ride was exhilarating, a stomach-dropping, heart-pounding thrill that had you screaming and laughing until your sides hurt. as you stumbled off, your legs feeling like jelly, steve was right there to steady you.
"you okay there?" he asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"i think my organs are all in the wrong place," you gasped for air as you laughed, leaning against him for support. "but yeah, i'm great, wow! that was amazing."
"glad to hear it," he said. "now, i believe we were promised some deep-fried delicacies."
you spent the next hour or so wandering through the carnival with steve, trying on ridiculous hats, making fun of the cheesy prizes at the game booths, and eating yourselves into a state of blissful, greasy stupor. you shared a deep-fried pickle corndog that was surprisingly delicious, and a basket of deep-fried oreos that were pure, unadulterated heaven. for a while you had completely forgot about bucky and chloe. that was up until bucky and chloe caught up with you, but they seemed to be in their own bubble, and you found yourself gravitating back towards steve, whose easy-going company was a welcome relief from the tension that seemed to cling to chloe like a second skin.
"so, what's the deal with her?" steve asked, nodding towards chloe, who was currently trying to convince bucky to win her another prize, this time a giant pink unicorn.
you shrugged, trying to act casual. "i don't know. i've heard some things, but i don't really know her. she seems... nice enough." you knew you were lying, and you knew steve knew it too.
"right," he said, nodding, holding back a laugh. "Nice."
you both made eye contact and immediately broke into laughter. âhonestly i canât even lie anymore,â you said, shaking your head and throwing your hands up in surrender âsheâs a bitch!â
steve was always really nice, not often engaging in gossip, but today, with chloe, it was a completely different story. he noticed how she talked to you and made snarky remarks. it was hard not to laugh at her persistent attitude.
after hours, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the carnival transformed. the neon lights seemed to grow brighter, casting long, dancing shadows on the ground, and the air grew cooler, carrying with it the promise of a crisp autumn night. you were all standing in line for the haunted mansion, a classic ride that promised a scary good time, except this one had a water warning outside of it, but you simply assumed it was probably just a bit of mist and water drops to add fear to the ride. you were getting in line with steve when chloe decided to make another appearance.
"i'm not going on that," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "it looks creepy. and i'll get wet."
"Itâs called the dripping in fear haunted mansion for a reason, chloe," you said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "that's kind of the point."
she shot you a look that could have frozen hell. "i wasn't talking to you," she said, her voice icy.
you scoffed, a bit fed up with her bad manners.
"chloe," bucky said, his voice a low warning.
"what?" she said, turning to him, her expression instantly softening. "i just don't want to ruin my shoes. they're new."
"it's fine," you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. "we can do something else, itâs not a big deal."
"no," bucky said, his voice firm. he looked at chloe, his brow furrowed. "why don't you go get us some funnel cakes? find a table and we'll meet you there."
chloe's smile tightened, but she nodded. "fine," she said, her voice sweet as poison. "anything for you, my love." she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick, peck-like kiss on the lips before sashaying away, leaving a cloud of cloying perfume in her wake.
you couldnât help but feel a pang of jealousy and rage when you saw her do that, but you quickly shoved it, storing it deep in your heart because bucky was still your best friend. you always wanted him to have the best, to be happy, and if chloe somehow did that, that was good enough.
you and steve and bucky stood in awkward silence for a moment, the sounds of the carnival swelling around you. you could feel the anger radiating off bucky in waves, his jaw clenched tight.
"i'm sorry," he said, finally turning to you. "she's not usually like this."
"it's fine," you said, even though it wasn't. "really,â you smiled.
"no, it's not," he said, his voice low and intense. "she had no right to talk to you like that." he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration you knew all too well. "i don't know what's wrong with her tonight."
"maybe she's just not a carnival person," steve offered, ever the diplomat.
"maybe," bucky said, but he didn't sound convinced. he looked at you, his blue eyes full of a regret that made your chest ache. "i'm really sorry, doll. i wanted this to be a good night for all of us."
"it is a good night," you said, forcing a smile. "i'm with my two best friends at the carnival. it doesn't get much better than that." you reached out and squeezed his arm, trying to convey a sincerity you weren't sure you felt. "come on, let's go on this thing."
the dripping haunted mansion wasnât as wet as youâd expected, but it sure was scary as hell. you sat in the middle of the cart, steve directly in front of you, and bucky bringing up the rear. as the ride progressed, you encountered all types of scary actors with makeup as well different jumpscares. you could feel the mist coming down from the ceiling, but with the noise around you and seemingly fake blood dripping on the walls it was disgusting and terrifying.Â
just as you thought the ride was about to end, the cart quickly turned a sharp corner and a massive clown flashed and moved above your head, a scream tearing from your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut. the cart quickly rolled down a tiny incline and you came out of the house, being ushered out of the seats.
"holy shit," you gasped, gripping your hair in fear. "that was horrible"
bucky was laughing, a genuine, deep-throated laugh that you hadn't heard all night. "you look like you just saw a ghost" he said, his eyes sparkling.
"maybe because i just fucking did" you shot back, splashing him with the droplets of water that were dripping from your hair.
steve was just shaking his head, a grin plastered on his face. "either iâm too old for this, or youâre a wimp, because that was not scary," he said, but he was laughing too.
you werenât soaked but your hair had taken most of it, but you didn't care. you found chloe sitting at a picnic table under a large tent, a pristine funnel cake sitting in front of her, untouched. she looked you up and down, her lip curled in disgust.
"you're all wet and your hair is frizzy," she said, as if it were a personal affront.
"it's the dripping haunted mansion" you said, your voice sprinkled with a sweetness that rivaled hers. "itâs exactly what I expected" you retorted, taking a step back, pulling your hair in your hands and shaking most of the water out.
"i can see that," she said, her eyes narrowing. "did you have to shake all over the place? you're gonna get water on my shoes."
âmy hair isnât even near you, that's why i stepped backâ you defended, slightly irritated.
"chloe," bucky said, his voice dangerously low.
"what?" she said, turning to him, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "i'm just stating a fact. she's being a bit of a mess, don't you think?"
that was it. you'd had enough. you were tired of her snide comments and her condescending tone. you were tired of her making you feel like an intruder in your own group. you opened your mouth to say something, something sharp and witty and cutting, but bucky beat you to it.
"that's enough," he said, his voice cold and hard. he stood up, his posture rigid with anger. "come on, we're leaving."
"what?" chloe said, her smile finally faltering. "can she not take a joke?"
"nobody laughed," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "we're leaving. Now."
he grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not rough, and started to respectfully guide her away from the table. she stumbled after him, her expression a mixture of shock and outrage. you and steve watched them go, your heart pounding in your chest.
"well, that was... something," steve said, breaking the silence.
"mhm," you voiced.
"well, he can deal with her. Iâm gonna go to bathroom" steve said, gesturing towards the green portapotties. "i'll be right back."
you nodded, your eyes still fixed on the spot where bucky and chloe had disappeared. you felt a strange mix of emotions: relief, anger, and a lingering, aching sadness. you'd wanted this night to be perfect, a chance to recapture some of the old magic, the easy camaraderie the three of you had always shared. instead, it had been a minefield of tension and unspoken feelings you had.
you decided to take a walk, to clear your head. you wandered through the crowded midway, the lights and sounds a blur around you. you weren't paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you on a familiar path, until you heard a raised voice from behind a row of game booths. you recognized it instantly. it was bucky.
"...don't care," he was saying, his voice tight with anger. "you don't talk to her like that. you don't even look at her like that."
"like what?" chloe shot back, her voice shrill with indignation. "like she's a child who can't take a joke?"
"it wasn't a joke," bucky said, his voice low and dangerous. "you were being cruel. shes special to me and you know that.â
âoh trust me, i know sheâs special to you, you never shut up about her.â chloe gritted
âi won't have you treating her like shit." bucky remarked back.
"or what?" she challenged. "what are you going to do about it?"
"wow okay,â he said, swiping his hand over his face. âYea this," his voice flat, "we're done. go home, chloe."
you heard a scoff, followed by the sound of footsteps stomping away. you held your breath, your heart hammering against your ribs. a moment later, bucky emerged from behind the booths, his face a mask of fury. he saw you standing there, and his expression softened, the anger in his eyes replaced by a look of weary resignation.
"how much of that did you hear?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"enough," you said, your voice just as quiet. âbuck, iâm so sorry.â
he ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "no, i'm sorry," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time that night. "i really messed tonight up."
"no," you said, stepping closer to him. "you didn't. you couldnât have known she would act like that."
"i shouldn't have invited her," he said, his eyes fixed on the ground. "i just... i thought it would be fun. i didn't think..."
"it's okay, bucky," you said, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. "i promise it's fine."
he looked up at you then, his blue eyes searching yours. they were so full of emotion, a swirling vortex of regret and frustration and something else, something you couldn't quite name. "you're too good for this," he said shaking his head, his voice thick with emotion. "you're too good for me."
"don't say that," you said, your voice soft. "that's not true."
"isn't it?" he said, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "i bring a girl who treats you like crap, i ruin the night you were so excited for, and then i have a public fight with her in the middle of a carnival. some friend i am."
"Buck, you're my best friend," you said, your voice firm. "and tonight is not ruined because it's not over."
a slow smile spread across his face, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "yeah?" he said, his voice a little hopeful.
"yeah," you said, returning his smile and nudging his shoulder. "now, are you going to buy me a deep-fried snickers bar, or do i have to steal steve's wallet?"
he laughed, a real, honest-to-god laugh that made your heart soar. "lead the way," he said, gesturing grandly.
you found steve by the funnel cake stand, looking a little lost. when he saw you and bucky approaching, a look of relief washed over his face.
"everything okay?" he asked, his eyes darting between the two of you.
"everything's great," you said, linking your arm through bucky's. "chloe had to go. something about a... hair emergency, right?" you asked jokingly while looking up at bucky.
he simply nodded, holding back a laugh.
steve's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't press. "well, in that case," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "who wants to ride the scrambler until they puke?"
the rest of the night was a blur of pure, unadulterated fun. you went on every ride you could find, from the bumper cars to the gravity-defying pendulum, until you were all dizzy and breathless with laughter. you ate more fried food than you thought was humanly possible, sharing sticky, sweet bites of funnel cake and crispy, salty onion rings. bucky was back to his old self, his charm and his easy laugh on full display, but there was something different about him now. his eyes kept finding yours in the crowd, a soft, warm look in them that made your heart skip a beat.
it didnât help your case when he made flirty remarks towards you, or when he looked at you with his gorgeous blue eyes, gosh you were head over heels for him and you couldnât do anything about it.
by the time you made it to the ferris wheel, the night was in full swing. the moon was high in the sky, a pale silver disc against a backdrop of inky black, and the stars were out in full force, a dizzying array of glittering diamonds. the line for the ferris wheel was long, but you didn't mind. you were content to just stand there, tucked between bucky and steve, the cool night air a welcome relief from the heat of the day.
"i don't know if i can do another one," steve said, his face a little green. "I think that last ride might have been a mistake."
"aw, come on, stevie," bucky said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "the ferris wheel is a gentle ride. it's practically a rocking chair. you'll be fine."
"i don't know," steve said, his voice a little weak. "i think i'm going to call it a night. you guys go ahead. i'll just... wait here for you."
"are you sure?" you asked, a little concerned. he did look a bit pale.
"yeah," he said, forcing a smile. "i'm sure. just... maybe donât go on any more rides that go upside down. i don't think your stomachs could handel more."
âpussyâ you said jokingly coughing into your arm, steve rolling his eyes and chuckling at your remark.
"no promises," bucky said, grinning.
you said your goodbyes to steve, promising to meet him back at the entrance in an hour, and then you and bucky got in line for the ferris wheel. the line moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were being ushered into a small, swinging car, the metal gate clanging shut behind you. the car lurched as it was hooked onto the giant, slowly turning wheel, and you felt a little flutter of excitement in your stomach.
"i haven't been on one of these in years," you said, leaning your head back against the cool metal of the seat, finally feeling relaxed.
"me neither," bucky said, his voice quiet. As he sat across from you, his knees pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his body touching you. "not since we were kids."
"remember that time we went to the county fair back home?" you said, a fond smile on your face. "and you got stuck on the top of the ferris wheel with that girl from your math class? what was her name? jessica?"
"jenna," he said, a laugh in his voice. "and i didn't get stuck. the ride operator just stopped it at the top to give us a romantic moment." he said, emphasizing his words and wiggling his eyebrows.
"it was the most awkward five minutes of my life," you said, laughing. "i was down on the ground with steve, watching you two just sit there in silence. i thought steve was going to die from secondhand embarrassment."
"hey, in my defense, i was fourteen," he said. "i didn't know what to say to her."
"you never know what to say to girls," you teased. "you just stand there and look pretty."
"and it works, doesn't it?" he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble.
"most of the time," you conceded, rolling your eyes, feeling your heart fluttering a little. "but not with jenna."
"no, not with jenna," he agreed, his smile softening. "she was too smart for me."
"or maybe you were just too busy staring at her boobs," you said, unable to resist the jab.
"hey," he said, feigning offense. "i was a fourteen-year-old boy. what do you expect?"
"i expect nothing less," you said, grinning.
the ferris wheel continued its slow, steady ascent, the world below you shrinking with every rotation. the lights of the carnival blurred into a glittering tapestry of color, and the sounds of the crowd faded into a distant hum. it was peaceful up here, a quiet, intimate bubble suspended between the earth and the sky.
"it's beautiful up here," you said, your voice barely a whisper.
"yeah," he said, his voice just as quiet. "it really is."
you turned to look at him, and he was already looking at you, his blue eyes soft and luminous in the dim light of the carnival. they were the color of a deep, tranquil ocean, and you felt like you could drown in them, happily and without a second thought. the air between you crackled with a tension that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a thousand unspoken words hanging between you, waiting to be said.
"bucky," you started, your voice a little shaky.
"yeah?" he said, his voice a low, gentle hum.Â
"why did you invite her tonight? why bring chloe if sheâs such a⌠like aâŚ" you asked, struggling to find the right words, the question tumbling out before you could stop it.
âa bitch?â he asked straight faced.
âwell i mean, i was gonna say cunt but yea that too!â you said breaking out in laughter
he chuckled, his gaze slowly dropping from yours to his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. "i don't know," he said, his voice quiet. "i guess i was just... trying to prove something."
âwhat?â you asked confused.
âyou asked why i brought her here. I was trying to prove something.â
"prove what?" you asked, your heart aching for him.
"that i could date other girl" he said, his voice barely audible. "that i didn't... that i wasn't..." he trailed off, his jaw clenched tight. ânevermind,â he grumbled out.
"that you weren't what?" you prompted, tilting your head, your voice soft and confused.
he looked up at you then swiped his tongue across his top lip, biting back a laugh. âdoll, i thought you were smart.âÂ
âokay rude. i would like you to know that i am verââ you groaned, stopping mid sentence. âugh, it doesn't matter, buck, you didnât finish your sentenceââ.
âand iâm not going to.â he said plainly.
âiâ what? why not?â you asked, raising an eyebrow.
âyouâre smart doll, youâll figure it out.â he said, ruffling your hair as he got up to get out of the car.
you hadnât even noticed you were back on the ground until you were trailing behind bucky, taking massive strides to catch up with him.
âbucky wait, are you gonna explain or?â you said walking after him before he stopped abruptly.
you watched as he looked up at the massive circular structure in front of you. âwoahâ you whispered, watching the rides car do a full 360, leaving the passengers completely upside down.
"what the hell is that?" you asked, completely caught off guard by the insanely terrifying coaster in front of you.
âthat is the ring of fireâ he said pointing towards the massive, steel monstrosity that literally looked like a giant, spinning ring of fire
your eyes widened in horror. "nope," you said, shaking your head. "absolutely not. that thing leaves you hanging upside down." you said trying to turn around and walk away from the ride.
bucky quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled in, resting his hand on the low of your back.Â
"i know," he said, his voice full of mischief. "it'll be fun."
"it'll be terrifying," you corrected, shaking your head. "i'm not going on that."
"please," he said, turning his head down, his blue eyes wide and pleading. "for me?"
âiâll tell you what I meant on the ferris wheelâ he added.
you knew you should say no. you knew it was a terrible idea. but you were looking into his eyes, and you could see the boy you had grown up with, the one who had dared you to climb the tallest tree in the park and the one who had held your hand when you got your stitches. you saw the man who you were head over heels for. you wanted to know the truth, something he was adamant on not sharing with you. and you knew you were a goner.
you took a deep breath, "deal," you said, your voice a little shaky. "but if i puke, i'm doing it on your shoes."
"deal," he said, repeating the word back to you, his face breaking into a triumphant grin.
you started to walk closer to the queue of the ride. the ring of fire was even more terrifying up close. it was a giant, steel circle, with a single row of cars attached to the inside of the rim. as you watched, it started to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the cars were perpendicular to the ground, the riders screaming as they were held in place by nothing but a flimsy-looking lap bar. then, as it reached its maximum speed, the entire ring tilted upwards, until the cars were at the very top of the circle, completely upside down, a silent, breathless moment of defiance against gravity.
"i can't do this," you said, your heart pounding in your chest. "i changed my mind."
"too late," he said, grabbing your hand
and pulling you closer to the entrance. "you already agreed. no backsies."
"that's not a real rule," you protested, but you were already being ushered into a car, the metal lap bar coming down to lock you in place. it felt flimsy and inadequate, and you were suddenly very aware of how high up you were going to be.
"it's the most important rule," he said, his hand finding yours in the darkness of the car. he laced his fingers through yours, his grip tight and reassuring. "just hold on to me. i've got you."
you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "okay," you said, your voice a little shaky. "i'm holding you to that."
the ride started with a jolt, the car lurching forward as the ring began to spin. it was slow at first, a gentle, rocking motion that was almost pleasant. but then it started to speed up, the world outside the car blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope of light and color. you could feel the g-force pulling at you, a heavy, insistent pressure that pinned you to the back of the seat.
"you okay?" bucky yelled over the roar of the machinery.
"i think so!" you yelled back, your knuckles white where you were tightly gripping his hand.
the ring began to tilt, the ground slowly disappearing from view as you were lifted towards the sky. your stomach dropped, a sickening lurch that made you gasp. you squeezed your eyes shut, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
"don't close your eyes," bucky said, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos. "look at me. just look at me."
you forced your eyes open, and you were looking at him. his face was illuminated by the flashing lights of the carnival, his blue eyes intense and focused on yours. he was smiling, a wide, exhilarated grin that made your heart do a little flip.
"see?" he said, his voice full of confidence. "it's not so bad."
"it's terrible!" you yelled, but you were smiling too.
the ring reached its apex, and for a terrifying, exhilarating moment, you were completely upside down. the world was a dizzying, upside-down mess of lights and sound, and you were hanging on for dear life, your only connection to reality the warm, steady pressure of bucky's hand in yours. you screamed, a long, loud, cathartic scream that was equal parts terror and pure, unadulterated joy. there were muffled yells around you, but you could hear bucky laughing, a deep, booming sound that was even louder than the roar of the ride and screams.
and then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. the ring began to level out, the spinning slowing down until you were back on the ground, the world righting itself around you. the lap bar released with a loud clank, and you stumbled out of the car, your legs feeling like jelly.
"i can't believe we just did that," you said, your voice shaky with adrenaline and laughter.
"i told you it would be fun," he said, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.
"it was the most terrifying thing i've ever done in my entire life," you said, leaning against him, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of the ride.
"but you loved it," he said, his voice a low, confident rumble.
"i did," you admitted, a wide, unstoppable grin spreading across your face. "i totally loved it."
you were standing there, in the middle of the crowded midway, the lights of the carnival pulsing around you, the sounds of the rides and the laughter of the crowd a distant roar. you were breathless and disheveled, your heart still pounding in your chest, and you had never felt more alive in your entire life. you looked up at him, at the boy you had known your whole life, the man that you convinced yourself you could live romantically without for years on end, and you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that you didnât want to do that anymore. that this was it. this was the moment.
you reached up, your hand cupping the back of his neck, and pulled him down to you. you kissed him, a fierce, passionate kiss that tasted of adrenaline and cotton candy and a future that was finally, beautifully within your reach. he kissed you back, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer, his lips claiming yours in a way that left no room for doubt. it was a kiss that said everything you had ever wanted to say, a promise of all the adventures to come, a declaration of a love that had been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to be set free.
when you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. the lights of the carnival seemed brighter, the music louder, the stars in the sky more brilliant than they had ever been before.
You bit back a smile, "wow," you breathed, your voice full of wonder.
"yeah," he said, his voice a low, contented hum. "Wow."
âwell i guess you figured out what i was talking about on the ferris wheel. told you you were smart enough doll.â bucky said grinning.
âoh shut upâ you said giving him a small push backwards with a smile on your face.
âwhere do you think youâre going?â he said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back in for another kiss. this time it was sweeter and slower, showing the gentle way each piece found its place, like a story meant to unfold this way.
pulling back he immediately took your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, and you started to walk, away from the noise and the chaos of the midway, towards the quiet, tree-lined path that led to the entrance. you walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the carnival fading behind you, replaced by the gentle rustle of the leaves in the cool night air.
"so," you said, your voice a little shy. "you owe me a pink unicorn" you teased.
he laughed, a deep, warm sound that made your heart soar. "don't worry," he said, squeezing your hand. âfirst thing tomorrow, we're coming back, and i'm winning you that giant unicorn. and the teddy bear. and that weird-looking fish with the googly eyes." he added, placing his fingers over his eyes and flailing his head around jokingly.
"you don't have to do all that," you said, nudging him, your voice soft.
"yes, i do," he said, his voice firm. "i have a lot of time to make up for."
you reached the entrance of the carnival, the bright lights a stark contrast to the quiet darkness of the street beyond. steve was waiting for you, leaning against a lamppost, a sleepy smile on his face.
"there you are," he said, pushing himself off the lamppost. "i was about to send out a search party."
"sorry," you said, grinning. "we got a little sidetracked."
"i can see that," he said, his eyes darting between your intertwined hands and the goofy, lovesick grin on bucky's face. "it's about time."
"shut up, steve," bucky said, but there was no malice in his voice, only a deep, abiding affection.
"i'm just saying," steve said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "it's about damn time."
you all started to walk, the three of you, a unit, a tripod, just like you had always been. but something was different now. something had shifted. the unspoken tension that had always existed between you and bucky was gone, replaced by a new, easy intimacy, a comfortable silence that spoke volumes. you were walking hand in hand with bucky, your fingers laced through his, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
"so," steve said, breaking the silence. "did you win her a prize?"
"not yet," bucky said, his eyes twinkling. "but i promise i will."
"you better," you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. "i've been waiting a long time for this."
"me too," he said, his voice a low, contented hum. "me too."
you walked through the quiet streets of the college town, the three of you, your laughter echoing in the cool night air. you stood between steve and bucky, your hand on their shoulders. the carnival was a distant memory, a glittering dream of lights and sound, but the feeling of it, the magic of it, stayed with you, a warm, glowing ember in your heart. you looked at steve, your best friend, he was there, every year, through every single situation you encountered, then you looked up at bucky, at the boy you had grown up with, the man you had been in love with for years, and you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that this was just the beginning. the beginning of everything.
âË¡ masterlist
*as always, thanks @uzmacchiato for the gorgeous banners <3
summary: you are hired as the avengersâ new public relations specialist, a sunshineâbright force dropped into a tower full of exhausted superheroes and one very grumpy former assassin. bucky barnes wants nothing to do with you, and you seem determined to befriend him anyway. what starts as mutual annoyance slowly shifts into something softer as the two of you stumble through awkward teamwork, unexpected moments, and one disastrously chaotic baking challenge that proves the avengers might actually be a family after all.
warnings: pure fluff, more friendship that romance, baking chaos, mentions of public image, bonding, no use of y/n
word count: 2.9k
song inspo: i like me better by lauv
a/n: lowkey love blind, deaf, mute challenges so I had to add it to this universe somehow (also I didnât proof read so fingers crossed)
âË¡ masterlist
it started out rough. no, rough was an understatement. it was a car crash in slow motion. you, the avengersâ newly hired public relations specialist, all sharp wit and sharper tongue, a whirlwind of deadlines, crisis management, and social media strategy. and him, james buchanan barnes, a ghost with a metal arm, a man so buried under layers of trauma and stoicism it was a miracle he could speak at all. he found your energy grating, your constant stream of chatter and chaotic movements an assault on his carefully constructed quiet. you found his perpetual silence and brooding presence a personal challenge, a brick wall you were determined to chip away at, if only out of spite.
tony had been annoyingly smug about hiring you. âwe need someone who can handle our image,â heâd said, waving a tablet full of disastrous headlines. âsomeone who can keep us from looking like a walking PR nightmare.â
steve had frowned. âweâre not a brand, tony. weâre a team.â
bucky had muttered, âfeels like a reality show,â under his breath.
tony ignored them both. âtoo bad. she starts monday.â
they hated the idea. steve because he didnât like the thought of the team being âmanaged,â and bucky because he didnât like the thought of being perceived at all. but tony was right. public support mattered. government support mattered. and someone had to keep the avengers from accidentally setting the internet on fire every other week.
tony, to his credit, had been weirdly kind about the whole thing. heâd insisted you move into the tower almost immediately, claiming it was âmore efficient for workflowâ but really because he knew you would start pulling eighteenâhour days trying to keep the teamâs image from spontaneously combusting. youâd protested at first, but heâd waved you off, muttering something about hazard pay and unlimited coffee. so you moved in, bright-eyed, caffeinated, and ready to fix everything. you had set up your little corner of the tower with your laptop and colorâcoded digital planners, and tried not to feel too out of place among superheroes.
for the first several weeks bucky avoided you like you were a landmine.
he was grumpy about it too, in that very specific bucky barnes way where he never actually said anything but somehow managed to radiate irritation like a space heater. every time you walked into a room with your bright âgood morning!â and your stack of colorâcoded schedules, he would tense like youâd just thrown a grenade at him. you tried to be friendly, tried to make the whole âliving with superheroesâ thing less awkward, but he met every attempt with a grunt, a scowl, or a pointed exit. you were sunshine and caffeine and relentless optimism, and he was a thundercloud in combat boots who clearly wished you came with an off switch.
months in, nothing had changed.
"ugh! he's like a sentient, angry statue, and im nothing but nice to him," you'd complained to natasha one night, sprawled across her bed while she cleaned her knives with unnerving focus. âalso, he makes my job ten times harder! i hate him.â
"he's been through a lot," she'd said, not looking up.
"so have i," you'd shot back. "i had to sit through tonyâs three-hour lecture on brand consistency. i have trauma too." you joked.
natasha had just hummed, a small smile playing on her lips.Â
steve would try to mediate, his earnest attempts at getting you two to âfind common groundâ usually ending with you making a sarcastic comment and bucky retreating further into himself. sam just found the whole thing hilarious. "look at them," he'd whisper to clint, not so quietly, as you and bucky sat on opposite ends of the common room couch. "the grumpy cat and the little bird. it's a nature documentary."
but weeks turned into a month, and then two. the ice thawed, not with a grand gesture, but with a series of small, almost insignificant moments. it was you leaving a cup of coffee next to the book he was reading, not saying a word. it was him wordlessly moving a large stack of your paperwork from a chair so you could sit down. it was the day you'd been up for 36 hours straight preparing a press release and scheduling interviews, and you'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table. you woke up a few hours later with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a glass of water and two aspirin next to your head. you never saw him, but you knew.
"team bonding," you'd called it the first time you'd dragged him out of the tower. it was just a walk through central park, you chattering about everything and nothing, him listening with his hands shoved in his pockets, a noncommittal "hm" his only contribution. but he came. the next time, it was to a ridiculously obscure foreign film you wanted to see during your free time. he fell asleep ten minutes in, but he'd bought the popcorn. slowly, the grumpy statue started to look a little less like granite and a little more like a man who just needed a friend.
and then came the day you needed content.
not damage control. not rumor control. not a PR emergency.
just⌠content.
âwe need something fun,â youâd told tony, scrolling through analytics. âsomething human. something that shows the team isnât just doom and gloom.â
tony raised an eyebrow. âdefine fun.â
âa youtube video,â you said, already grinning. âthe blind, deaf, and mute baking challenge. everyone seems to love it, so it might just help our case.â
tony stared at you. âyouâre insane.â
âand you hired me,â you shot back smiling.
and that was how you found yourself setting up a tripod in the middle of the avenger towerâs ridiculously large kitchen, while sam wilson was trying to stick a piece of duct tape over his own mouth.
"i don't think this is going to stick," sam mumbled, his voice muffled by the tape.
"that's the point, sam," you said, adjusting the camera angle. "it's supposed to be a challenge. now, no more talking from you." you teased.
bucky was already sitting at the massive island, looking deeply unimpressed. he was fiddling with a pair of your oversized, hot pink, noise canceling headphones. "this is your idea of damage control?"
"this is my idea of good publicity," you corrected, grabbing a soft silk scarf from your pocket.
you filmed a quick little intro to explain the challenge. your bubbly personality being perfect for the camera as you introduced sam and bucky.Â
"now, you're deaf. put those on. i've got my playlist queued up. it's... eclectic." you said smiling up at him.
he sighed, the sound long-suffering, but he put the headphones on. you hit play on your phone, connected via bluetooth, and the sound of sabrina carpenter blasting directly into his ears. you saw his eye twitch. perfect.
"and you," you said to yourself, tying the silk scarf securely around your eyes, plunging yourself into darkness. "are blind. okay, the camera's rolling. we're making chocolate chip cookies. the recipe is on the counter. let the chaos begin.â you spoke to yourself, knowing you would just edit this out later.
the kitchen was already a war zone, but somehow things got worse once you started mixing.
you reached for the bowl, hands sweeping blindly across the counter. bucky saw this and immediately panicked.
âwaitâ WAITâ youâre gonna knock it over!â he shouted, even though he couldnât hear himself.
you froze. âbucky, i canât see you. use your words.â
âi am using my words!â he yelled, arms full as he held ingredients in his hands. he frantically nodded towards the bowl as if that would help âthe bowl! the bowl isâ itâsâ itâs somewhere near your elbow!â
âthatâs not helpful!â you yelled back.
sam, who had given up on the tape entirely, made a strangled noise and grabbed your wrist, guiding it to the bowl before bucky had a meltdown.
âoh,â you said. âthere it is.â
bucky put his hands on his hips. âi told you. i definitely told you.â
âyou didnât tell me anything,â you said. âyou were just yelling the word âwaitâ like i was about to detonate.â
âyou were about to detonate,â he insisted, being able to read your lips. âthat bowl is our last hope.â
you snorted. âdramatic.â
âyou know I can read your lips right?â bucky pointed at his own chest. âsuper soldier. everything is dramatic.â
you rolled your eyes behind the blindfold and reached for the whisk. bucky watched you grab a spatula instead.
âno, no, noâ wrong thing!â he shouted, leaning over the counter. âthe whippy thing! theâ theâ theââ
sam slapped a whisk into his hand.
bucky blinked at it. âyes. this. the whippy thing.â he shoved it toward you. âuse this.â
you felt something poke your arm. âis that⌠is that the whisk?â
âyes!â bucky said proudly.
you grabbed it. âokay. mixing.â
bucky nodded, satisfiedâuntil he saw what was happening inside the bowl.
ânoâ noâ youâre not mixing, youâre⌠stabbing it,â he said, annoyed. âwhy are you stabbing it.â
âi canât see,â you reminded him.
âwell i canât hear,â he shot back, reading your lips, âbut you donât see me stabbing things.â
you paused. âbucky, you stab things all the time.â
he opened his mouth, closed it, not hearing what you said and not being able to respond.
sam made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
you kept whiskingâsort ofâand bucky leaned closer, trying to supervise. âokay, okay, slower. slower. youâre gonna fling it everywhere.â
âif im not doing it correctly then you do it!â you snapped back, moving your hands away from the bowl and crossing your arms.
at this point sam was near the cabinet, quietly rummaging for more ingredients.Â
âi canât hear a word youâre saying,â bucky yelled, after he watched you speak.
you moved your head up, towards where you assumed he was standing. âbucky. look at my mouth.â you said pointing at your lips.
he leaned down, squinting like that would help.
âmix. the. ingredients,â you mouthed slowly.
buckyâs eyebrows shot up. âkiss the expedients?! WHY WOULD I KISS ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?!â
sam doubled over, wheezing.
you slapped your hand over your face. âmix! MIX!â
âoh!â bucky said, nodding. âmix. right. that makes more sense,â he grumbled.
he moved towards the bowl in one fluid motion, accidentally nudging you on the shoulder because you didnât move, still not seeing a thing. you quickly stepped back, knocking a spoon onto the floor. he froze, staring at it like it had personally betrayed him.
âi didnât do that,â he said immediately.
âyou absolutely did. you nudged me!â you yelled, loud enough so he could hear you over the pop girl music in his ears.
ânope,â bucky insisted. âthat was you⌠and gravity i guess. but mostly you.â
sam tapped your shoulder again, trying to warn you about something.Â
âwhat sam? i canât see a thing!â you retorted. you turned your head back, hearing the shuffling of what seemed to be a plastic bag. maybe the chocolate chips?
âiâll add these,â bucky said confidently.
âbucky, waitââ sam tried to say, but it came out as a garbled mess.
bucky ripped the bag open like it was an enemy combatant. chocolate chips exploded everywhereâacross the counter, the floor, your shirt, samâs hair.
you gasped. âwhat was that?!â
sam pointed at bucky.
bucky pointed at the bag. âit attacked me!â he retorted.
âit did not attack you,â you said.
âit did,â he insisted, still managing to read your lips somehow. âit was aggressive. i defended myself.â
you reached out blindly and your hand landed on his arm. âbucky. you massacred the chocolate chips.â
he looked down at the mess in silence.
sam made a noise like he was choking on his own laughter.
you sighed dramatically. âokay. okay. we can still salvage this. maybe.â
bucky crouched down to pick up the chips, muttering, âfive second rule,â even though he couldnât hear himself say it.
âdonât put those back in the bowl!â you warned, loud enough for him to hear.
âi wasnât going to,â he lied immediately.
sam snatched the handful from him.
bucky looked offended. âi was helping.â
âyouâre doing great!â you yelled, patting the air until your hand landed on his shoulder. âchaotic, but great.â
he straightened a little at that, like heâd just been promoted.
âokay,â he said, rolling his shoulders back. âwhatâs next. what do we ruin now.â
you laughed. âhopefully nothing.â
âunlikely,â sam muttered.
bucky faking a nod of agreement because he heard absolutely nothing.
you all ended up successfully placing the cookies in the oven without burning the tower down. sam wiped the counters while you salvaged what you could of the used ingredients, and bucky, with his surprising steadiness, managed to actually help produce a decent batch of chocolate chip cookies, mostly by following the recipe like a normal person. by the time you were done, the kitchen smelled like chocolate and sugar, and the three of you were sitting on stools, munching on slightly lumpy but delicious cookies, a comfortable silence settling between you.
later that night, after a long, hot shower that washed away the flour and the stress of the day, you were sitting cross-legged on your bed, your laptop glowing softly in the dark room. it was well past midnight, the rest of the tower quiet. you were editing the video, your fingers flying across the keyboard, cutting out the boring parts and adding silly music and captions. you zoomed in on bucky's confused face as he tried to measure sugar with a liquid cup, added a "womp womp" sound effect when you dropped the flour, and put a giant question mark over sam's head when he was trying to mime instructions. it was perfect. it was ridiculous. but it was perfect, especially for the public.
a soft knock on your door made you jump. you glanced at the clock, 1:17 am.
"come in," you called softly, your voice hushed in the quiet.
the door creaked open and bucky peeked in, his hair messy, wearing just a simple grey t-shirt and sweats. he looked softer like this, less like the winter soldier and more like just... a guy. "couldn't sleep," he murmured, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"me neither," you said, patting the space on the bed next to you. "editing our masterpiece," you giggled quietly.
he sat down, his weight dipping the mattress, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. he leaned over to watch the screen, his shoulder brushing against yours. you tried to focus on the timeline, on the little clips of you all flailing around the kitchen, but all you could think about was the solid presence of him next to you, the clean, faint scent of his soap.
on the screen, sam was having his silent meltdown, and bucky let out another soft chuckle. "he looked like a distressed penguin."
you giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder for a moment. "he really did." the contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you. you straightened up quickly, your cheeks feeling warm. you finished adding the last few touches to the video, a simple thumbnail: "avengers: baking challenge (fail)." your finger hovered over the 'post' button.
"you sure about this?" he asked, his voice quiet in the darkness.
"positive," you said, and clicked it. the video uploaded, a tiny spinning wheel appearing on the screen. "there. it's done. lets hope it does well"
you closed the laptop, plunging the room into near darkness, besides for the soft glow of the city lights through your window. you both sat there for a moment, the silence comfortable, easy. you could feel his gaze on you, but when you turned to look, his eyes were fixed on the window.
"thanks for today," he said, still looking away. "it was... fun."
"yeah," you agreed, your heart beating a little faster. "it was."
he finally turned to look at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. he reached up, his metal hand cool against your skin, and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered for a second, tracing the line of your jaw. then he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. it wasn't romantic, not really. it was just... sweet. a quiet acknowledgment of everything you'd become to each other.
you didn't say anything. you just closed your eyes, leaning into the touch. when you opened them, he was leaning back, a faint blush on his own cheeks. you both were oblivious, dancing around a feeling neither of you could name, content to just exist in this quiet moment.
"get some sleep," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"you too," you replied.
he didn't get up. he just shifted, settling back against your pillows, his eyes already drifting closed. you watched him for a moment, his breathing evening out, his face relaxed in sleep. you felt your own eyelids getting heavy, the warmth of his body next to yours a comforting weight. you curled up on your side, your laptop forgotten at the foot of the bed, and let yourself drift off, the faint smell of chocolate chip cookies and the lingering warmth of his kiss on your temple the last things you registered before sleep took you.
âË¡ masterlist
*as always, thanks @uzmacchiato for the gorgeous lace banners <3
summary: you and bucky barnes were never meant to cross paths, yet a smoky kitchen mishap turned silence into friendship and friendship into something neither of you talked about. now, with your past still hidden from the world and your first mission pulling you straight into danger beside the one person youâve been trying not to miss, the tension between you finally snaps. in the chaos of a highâspeed diversion and everything left unsaid, the truth youâve both been avoiding refuses to stay buried.
warnings: MDNI, 18+, lots of emotional tension, high-speed action, guns, car chase, arguments under pressure, mission chaos, secret feelings, avoidance, plot for smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected pnv (donât be silly, cover your willy), no use of y/n
word count: 4.9k
a/n: literally got the idea from CATWS when nat and steve are in the car. also, i yearn for stupid ahh plots so here you go :)
âË¡ masterlist
*thanks to @uzmacchiato for the gorgeous lace banners <3
the silence between you and bucky barnes had become a physical thing. it had weight and texture, a suffocating blanket that had been slowly smothering you for three weeks. three weeks of empty hallways, of him turning corners the moment he saw you, of meals eaten at opposite ends of a table that suddenly felt a mile long. it was a stark, brutal contrast to the months before, when his quiet presence had been the most comforting thing in your new life at the tower.
you remembered the beginning so clearly. youâd moved in, a ghost, a secret weapon the team had plucked from the clutches of a colombian cartel who trained you. years of your life, stolen and twisted, had turned you into something sharp and deadly. youâd refused them at first, the idea of being anyoneâs soldier again leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, but youâd watched the news, seen the world teetering on a precipice, and knew your skills could do more good than harm hiding away in some remote corner of the globe.
the tower had been intimidating at first. all that glass and steel, filled with gods and super-soldiers and men who built their own personal flying suits. youâd kept to yourself, your past making you wary of forming connections. bucky had been the most intimidating of all, a silent shadow with a haunted look in his eyes that mirrored your own. for the first month, you didnât speak a single word to each other. youâd share space in the common room, a careful distance between you, two broken things trying not to shatter the others.
the ice broke over a batch of burned pancakes. it was your turn to cook breakfast, a simple task youâd thought you could manage. youâd gotten distracted, lost in a memory, and the smell of acrid sugar and blackened batter had filled the kitchen. youâd been frantically waving a dish towel at the shrieking smoke detector when a low chuckle cut through the chaos. you turned to see bucky leaning against the doorframe, a genuine, unguarded smile on his face. the sight of it hit you like a physical blow, so unexpected and warm.
âneed a hand there, pyro?â heâd asked, his voice raspy from disuse.
something in you broke. a hysterical giggle escaped your lips, and then another, until you were laughing so hard you had to brace yourself against the counter. it wasnât even that funny, but the release, the sheer absurdity of it, was overwhelming. he laughed with you, a deep, rumbling sound that felt like the first thaw of spring. from that moment on, you were inseparable.
he was the only one who understood the nightmares, the phantom pains of a past that wouldnât let go. youâd spend hours talking in hushed tones in the dead of night, sharing stories that were too heavy for the light of day. those talks led to other things. stolen kisses in the training room, his lips tasting of mint and sweat. nights spent tangled in your sheets, his metal arm a cool, comforting weight on your hip, his touch chasing away the demons that haunted your sleep. he never treated you like you were fragile, but he handled you like you were precious. it was the safest youâd ever felt.
and then, three weeks ago, it all just stopped. no explanation. no fight. just a sudden, cold distance that left you reeling and more alone than youâd felt since you first arrived.
now, you sat in the sterile conference room, the holographic display in the center of the table painting a tactical map of tokyo in blue light. your first mission. it should have felt like a victory, a culmination of all your hard work and training. instead, it felt like a punishment.
âas you know,â steve was saying, his voice calm and steady, âweâve intercepted intel on a major weapons exchange. the buyers are a high-level terrorist cell, the sellers are dealing in a new chemical agent. the location is a warehouse in the shibuya district.â
tony swiped a hand through the air, bringing up a 3d model of the target building. âthe exchange is scheduled for 2200 hours. our objective is to hit them during the transaction, secure the chemical agent, and neutralize all hostiles. but,â he added, zooming in on the surrounding streets, âtheir security is no joke. theyâve got multiple patrols circulating the perimeter. highly mobile, heavily armed. we canât get the strike team in without drawing their attention.â
he looked directly at you and bucky, and your stomach plummeted. âso, we need a diversion. a loud, flashy, and highly mobile one.â
steveâs gaze followed tonyâs. âwe need a pair to draw the patrols on a high-speed chase through the city, leading them as far away from the exchange site as possible. it needs to be convincing, and it needs to last until weâve secured the warehouse. thankfully, we sent an anonymous tip there way so they know your car might give them trouble.â
your heart hammered against your ribs. you knew what was coming. you were the best shot on the team, your aim honed by years of brutal, unforgiving training. and bucky⌠well, bucky had learned to drive in a war, and heâd never forgotten how to handle a car like it was an extension of his own body.
âbucky, youâll be driving,â steve said, confirming your fear. âyour skills are unmatched for this kind of evasive maneuvering.â he turned to you. âand youâll be his gunner. we need someone who can disable those vehicles without destroying them completely, and your precision is exactly what we need.â
you couldnât bring yourself to look at bucky. you could feel his stillness from across the table, a palpable tension that radiated from him. for weeks, he had been a void where your friend used to be, and now you were supposed to trust him with your life. you were supposed to be a seamless unit, a well-oiled machine. the irony was so bitter it almost made you laugh.
âany questions?â steve asked, his eyes scanning the room.
silence. you just stared at the glowing blue map, your jaw tight.
âgreat,â tony said, clapping his hands together. âwheels up in two hours. try not to wreck the car. I kind of like that one.â
the meeting adjourned, and you were out of your chair before anyone else, needing to escape, to breathe. you practically fled to the quinjet hangar, needing to feel the open space, to prepare your gear and your mind for the mission without his suffocating presence nearby.
the sleek, black sports car sat waiting in the cargo hold, a beautiful machine designed for speed and destruction. you ran your hands over the cool metal, checking the mounted gun on the passenger side, the custom modifications tony had made. it was perfect. deadly. just like you.
you heard his footsteps before you saw him, a familiar tread that made your shoulders tense. you didnât turn around.
âhey,â he said, his voice quiet.
you continued checking the ammo clip, your movements sharp and precise as your fingers glided over the gun. âbarnes.â you state flatly.
he flinched at the formality. âlook⌠we should talk before we head out.â
âdonât,â you cut him off, your voice dangerously low. âyou canât be serious⌠youâve been avoiding me for weeks and you choose now, right before a mission, to suddenly talk to me? letâs just do our job and go back to ignoring each other afterward, yeah?â you snapped.
you finally risked a glance at him. the hurt on his face was plain, but it was quickly masked by the familiar, stoic mask of the winter soldier. he deserved it. every bit of it.
âright,â he said, his voice flat. âthe mission.â
you nodded curtly and turned back to the car. âjust stay out of my way, and iâll stay out of yours. weâll get it done.â
the quinjet ride to tokyo was thick with unspoken words. you sat as far away from him as possible, cleaning your weapons, going over the mission specs in your head, anything to keep from looking at him. but you could feel him watching you, his gaze a heavy weight you couldnât shrug off.
by the time the jet landed and you and bucky had driven the car off the large jet, night had fallen over tokyo. the city was a dazzling blur of neon and rain, the lights bleeding across the wet pavement. bucky drove with an unnerving calm, weaving through traffic with an effortless precision that was almost beautiful. you were supposed to be the bait, as you drove by the marked location, youâd found your tail almost immediately. two black suvs immediately recognized the car, their engines roaring as they closed in on you.
âhere we go,â bucky murmured, his hands tightening on the wheel.
âletâs give them a show,â you replied, your voice all business.
he gunned the engine, and the car leaped forward, a surge of adrenaline shooting through your veins. the chase was on. he drove like a man possessed, taking corners on two wheels, threading through impossibly small gaps, using the cityscape as his personal playground. the suvs stayed with you, their headlights cutting through the rain.
âready?â he called over the roar of the engine.
âborn ready,â you shot back, rolling down your window.
the cold, wet air whipped past you as you climbed halfway out, bracing yourself against the door. you raised your rifle, the scope a familiar comfort against your eye. you found the lead suv, aimed for the engine block, and squeezed the trigger. the shot was true. the car swerved, smoke billowing from the hood, but it kept coming.
ânice shot,â bucky grunted, rolling his eyes at your near-perfect aim, all while swerving to avoid a taxi.
âyou ainât seen nothing yet,â you muttered under your breath, taking aim again.
you took out the second suv's radiator, a plume of steam erupting into the night. it fishtailed, slowing considerably, but the first one was still on you, relentless. the chase was a violent symphony of squealing tires, roaring engines, and the percussive beat of your rifle fire. you were a well-oiled machine, just as steve had wanted, but the silence between you was a grinding, dissonant chord.
âmore coming up on your left!â bucky grunted, looking through his mirrors to see more cars joining the chase. he wrenched the wheel hard to the right. the car skidded, the back end sliding out in a controlled drift that sent you slamming against the door frame. âtwo of âem. i canât shake them on this side.â
you swore under your breath, ducking back into the car to reload. your back was facing the dashboard as you glanced out his window, you saw them. a sleek sedan and another suv, flanking you, matching your speed. there was no clean shot from your side. you were exposed.
âhold on,â you said, your voice tight.
âwhat are youââ
you didnât give him time to finish. you threw your rifle onto the back seat, ignoring his shocked look. in one fluid, practiced motion, you swung your leg over the center console, straddling his lap. the shift in weight made the car lurch, but he corrected it instantly, his hands steady on the wheel.
âwhat the hell are you doing?â he ground out, his eyes wide as you settled against him, your chest pressed to his. the position was intimate, explosive, and utterly insane.
âi canât get a shot from my side,â you yelled, pulling your sidearm from its holster. you braced one hand on the top of his doorframe, the other on his shoulder, and leaned out his window. the wind and rain lashed at your face. Your eyes flickered down quickly to where he was driving, him looking straight at you, âeyes on the fucking road barnes!â you yelled as he swerved quickly to avoid hitting an object in the street. The car jutted, making you fall back onto his lap.
for a second, he was frozen beneath you, the heat of his body seeping through your tactical gear. then, with a low growl that was pure frustration and something else you couldnât name, he complied. the car surged forward, and you took aim at the sedan.
the first shot shattered the driverâs side window. the second blew out a front tire. the car spun out, crashing into a barrier. one down. the suv, however, was more persistent. it swerved behind you, and you knew you couldnât get a clean angle.
the anger youâd been bottling for three weeks finally erupted. âyou know what, bucky? this is just like old times! except for the part where you actually talk to me!â you shouted over the wind, firing another shot that ricocheted harmlessly off the suvâs armored frame.
âiâm driving!â he yelled back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he took a sharp turn down a narrow alley.
âno, youâre avoiding me! youâve been avoiding me for weeks! what the hell did i do?â the words were torn from you, raw and painful. âwas it bad? did i do something wrong? just tell me!â you said, trying to steady your aim on the car.
the suv rammed your bumper, and the car jolted hard. you were thrown back against his chest, his metal arm automatically coming up to brace your waist, holding you steady. the touch was electric, a painful reminder of what youâd lost.
âitâs not you!â he finally roared, the sound ripped from his throat. he swerved again, narrowly missing a stack of pallets. âit was never you!â
âthen what?â you demanded, both frustrated that he wouldnât give you an answer and annoyed that you couldnât shoot the chasing suv. âwhat was it, bucky? you canât just⌠you canât just kiss me like you mean it and then vanish! you donât get to do that to me!â you yelled quickly moving out of this lap, back onto your seat, now that the suv was directly behind yours.
âi was trying to keep you safe!â he blurted out, the words bursting from him like a dam breaking. he took a corner so hard you were sure the car would flip, his driving growing more erratic, more desperate. âfrom me!â
the confession hung in the air, stunning you into silence. you stared at him, his profile sharp and illuminated by the passing neon lights. he looked tormented, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might break.
âsafe?â you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, laced with incredulity. a bitter, humorless laugh escaped your lips. âyou were trying to keep me safe? by ignoring me? by acting like i donât exist? thatâs your grand plan for my safety?â you retorted as you took two shots out your window.
âiâm a monster!â he shot back, his voice cracking. âeverything i touch, i ruin! my past⌠itâs not just history, itâs a goddamn curse. and then this mission⌠your first one⌠i knew theyâd pair us together. i knew iâd have to watch you walk into danger, and i couldnât⌠i canât be the reason you get hurt. i canât be the weakness that gets you killed.â
the suv was still there, a relentless predator. you raised your gun, your hands shaking now for an entirely different reason. âyou think i donât know what itâs like to have a past?â you yelled, your body half out the window. your voice thick with emotion. âyou think my hands are clean? i was a child soldier for a cartel, bucky! i was trained to be a weapon before i could even drive! i have done⌠things⌠that will haunt me forever. donât you dare stand there and tell me youâre protecting me from your darkness. iâve been living in the dark my whole fucking life!â
you finally got your shot. the suv swerved, exposing its fuel tank. you fired three rounds in quick succession. the car exploded in a ball of fire, the force of it pushing your car forward. bucky slammed on the brakes, as you sunk back into your seat, the tires screaming as the car skidded to a halt in the middle of the empty alley.
silence descended, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the crackle of flames from the wrecked vehicle. the adrenaline was fading, leaving a raw, trembling ache in its place.
he looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of the winter soldier was gone. all that was left was bucky. broken, beautiful, bucky. his blue eyes were swimming with regret, shining with unshed tears.
âfuckâ he whispered, his voice hoarse. running a shaky hand through his hair. âiâm fucking idiot. i was so scared of my past hurting you, i didnât stop to think about how i was hurting you myself.â his metal hand tightened around the wheel, the car still completely stopped. âiâm so, so sorry, doll. i pushed away the best thing in my life because i was a coward.â he said looking down towards the steady wheel.
the fight drained out of you, leaving you feeling hollowed out and exhausted. âdonât do that again,â you murmured. âdonât ever push me away again. we face our demons together, remember? that was the deal.â
âi remember,â he said softly. his eyes finally looking up to meet yours âi wonât. i promise.â
he leaned in, across the center console and this time, the kiss wasnât like the others. it wasnât stolen or secret. it wasnât born of desperation or comfort. it was a declaration. it was messy and desperate and full of the rain and the smoke and the taste of apology. it was a kiss that said âiâm hereâ and âiâm not leavingâ.
when you finally pulled apart, your foreheads resting together, the comms in your ear crackled to life.
âdiversion team, whatâs your status?â steveâs voice was crisp and professional. âthe exchange is secured.â
bucky looked at you, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. he keyed the comms. âsorry, cap. had a little car trouble. weâre en route now. five minutes out.â
the ride back to the quinjet was different. the silence was no longer a void; it was filled with unspoken understanding. his hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours, a silent, steadfast promise.
the debriefing was a blur of congratulations and back-slapping. tony was already gloating about his carâs performance, sam was making jokes about buckyâs driving, and steve was giving you both a proud nod but you and bucky only had eyes for each other.
as the team dispersed, heading towards the common room for celebratory drinks and the rest of the debriefing, bucky caught your arm. he didnât say a word, just tilted his head towards the service elevator. you knew exactly what he meant. you slipped away from the group, unnoticed in the post-mission excitement, and stepped into the empty elevator.
the moment the doors closed, he was on you. he pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours, his mouth finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. all the weeks of pent-up longing, all the fear and regret, poured into it. his hands were everywhere, one tangling in your hair, the other gripping your hip, pulling you closer.
âbucky,â you gasped as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth scraping your sensitive skin. ânot here.â
âmy room,â he growled against your skin. ânow.â
the elevator doors opened on his floor, and you two practically ran down the hall, him fumbling with the keycard to his room. the door clicked open, and you both stumbled inside, kicking it shut behind you. his room was dark and sparse, a mirror of the man himself but right now, it was the only place you wanted to be in.
Once the door clicked shut, the sound echoed in the quiet room. before you could even register the darkness, his hands were on you again, turning you, pressing you back against the cool wood of the door. his mouth claimed yours with a ferocity that stole your breath, a desperate, hungry kiss that was three weeks of silence and longing given form. there was no gentleness here, only a raw, primal need to close the distance he had so cruelly created.
âbucky,â you gasped, your hands fisting in the fabric of his tac suit, pulling him impossibly closer. you needed to feel him, all of him, to erase the memory of the cold emptiness he had left you with.
âgod, i missed you,â he groaned against your lips, the words a ragged confession. his metal hand was cool against your heated skin as he slid it under your shirt, his fingers splaying across the small of your back, holding you flush against him. âevery second. i was so stupid.â
âyeah, you were,â you breathed, but there was no heat in it, only a desperate relief. you arched into him, a silent invitation he didnât hesitate to accept.
he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you away from the door. the world became a blur of motion, his mouth never leaving yours, a frantic, messy dance of lips and teeth and tongue. he didnât bother with the lights. the only illumination came from the city skyline bleeding through his massive window, painting the room in strokes of silver and blue. he laid you down on his bed, the sheets cool against your back, and finally, finally, pulled back just enough to look at you.
his eyes were dark, the blue almost completely swallowed by the black of his pupils. he looked at you like he was starving, and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. âiâm going to make it up to you,â he promised, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated through you. âlet me show you.â
you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak. he knelt over you, his movements deliberate now, a stark contrast to the frantic energy from moments before. he reached for the zipper of your tac suit, his fingers brushing against your collarbone. the sound of the metal teeth parting was obscenely loud in the quiet room. he peeled the heavy fabric away, his gaze following his hands, feeling every inch of skin he exposed.
he took his time, mapping the landscape of your body with his lips and tongue. he kissed the scars on your arms, the ones you were so self-conscious of, his touch so gentle it made your eyes burn. he traced the line of your ribs, the curve of your hips, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. he wasnât just touching you; he was relearning you, committing you to memory all over again.
when his mouth finally closed over your breast, you cried out, your back arching off the bed. your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on you, his tongue swirling around your peaked nipple before he gently bit down. the pleasure was sharp, exquisite, a jolt of electricity that shot straight to your core.
âbucky, please,â you begged, your hips rising to meet his, seeking the friction you so desperately craved.
he lifted his head, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. âpatience, doll. iâve got three weeks to make up for, remember?â
he moved lower, his mouth tracing a path down your stomach, his metal hand holding your hips still when you tried to squirm. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear in one smooth motion. he tossed them aside, his eyes fixed on the part of you that was weeping for him.
âso beautiful,â he murmured, more to himself than to you. and then he lowered his head and his mouth was on you.
you cried out, your hands flying to his head, your fingers tangling in his soft hair as his tongue delved into your folds. he ate you out with a single-minded intensity, his tongue circling your clit before he sucked it into his mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your entire body. he knew exactly how to touch you, exactly how to drive you wild, and he used that knowledge mercilessly. he slid one finger, then two, inside you, his metal digits cool against your slick heat as he curled them, finding that spot inside you that made you see stars.
the pressure built, a tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers. âbucky, iâm⌠iâm close,â you panted, your hips rocking against his face.
âcome for me,â he commanded, his voice vibrating against you. âlet me hear you.â
that was all it took. the coil snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure so intense it stole your breath. you cried out his name, your body convulsing as you rode out the waves of your release, his mouth and fingers working you through every last spasm.
he didnât give you a chance to recover. he moved over you, his body a hard, heavy weight that you welcomed. he was still fully dressed, the rough fabric of his suit a delicious friction against your sensitive skin. he kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his lips, a heady, intimate flavor that made you moan.
âyou with me?â he asked, his voice rough with desire.
âalways,â you breathed, your hands moving to the zipper of his own suit. you needed him inside you, needed to feel him, to be joined with him in the most fundamental way.Â
you fumbled with the zipper, your hands shaking with need, and he helped you, shrugging out of the top half of the suit before kicking off his pants. he was magnificent, all hard muscle and scars, a testament to the life heâd lived. his cock was hard and heavy, curving up towards his stomach, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.
he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours. âi love you,â he said, the words a raw, vulnerable truth. âi was an idiot, and i was scared, but i love you. i should have told you that before.â
tears pricked your eyes, but this time they werenât from anger or hurt. âi love you too, you idiot.â you whispered quietly.
he grinned, a real, genuine, breathtaking grin that made your heart do a stupid little flip and then he pushed into you, sinking into your heat in one slow, deep stroke. you both groaned at the sensation, the perfect, rightness of it. he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was both overwhelming and utterly perfect. his head falling onto your shoulder.
he started to move, his strokes slow and deep at first, a deliberate rhythm that built the pleasure all over again. he watched you as he moved, his eyes dark and intense, his gaze never leaving yours. it was too much, too intimate, and you had to look away, your head falling back against the pillows
âno,â he grunted, his hand coming up to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. âeyes on me. i want to see you.â
you met his gaze, and the connection between you was so powerful it was almost painful. he increased his pace, his movements becoming harder, faster, more demanding. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his low, guttural grunts. he hooked one of your legs over his arm, changing the angle, and he drove into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.
âbucky,â you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.
âfuckâ he growled, his rhythm becoming erratic, his thrusts losing their smoothness as he chased his own release. âcome with me. one more time, doll.â
he reached between you, his thumb finding your clit, and he rubbed it in tight, circles. that was all it took. your orgasm ripped through you, even more powerful than the last, and you screamed his name, your body clamping down around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed you over the edge with a hoarse cry, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside you, his hips jerking against yours as he emptied himself into you.
he collapsed on top of you, his body a heavy, welcome weight, his face buried in the crook of your neck. you were both breathing heavily, your hearts hammering against your ribs. you lay like that for a long time, just holding each other, your bodies slick with sweat and the remnants of your passion.
after a while, he rolled off you, pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest. his heartbeat was a steady, reassuring rhythm against your ear. the city lights twinkled outside the window, a silent witness to your reunion.
âweâre going to be in so much trouble for missing the rest of the debriefing,â you murmured, a contented smile playing on your lips.
he chuckled, the sound a low, rumbling vibration in his chest. âworth it,â he said as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. âso worth it.â
you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. âyeah,â you agreed, your heart full. âit really was.â
summary: you and bucky barnes have always been an odd match, but somehow the two of you fit together better than anyone expects. between shared routines, quiet moments, and the kind of chemistry everyone else notices before you do, one unexpected night pushes your friendship into something softer and far more complicated. a tiny kitten, a secret tradition, and a very chaotic morning in the tower finally bring the truth to the surface.
warnings: so much fluff!!! soft & protective bucky, domestic vibes, found family energy, pranks, mischief, mentions of unwanted cats and abandonment. slow-burn friends-to-lovers (as much as that can be in a 4.6k story). college student & avenger reader. celebrity avengers & online dating rumors mentioned. No mentions of y/n.
word count: 4.6k
a/n: hellooooooo. this is actually my first one-shot and iâm gagged at how much i enjoyed reading it back. this plot is lowkey fed by my need to be an academic weapon and because i love NYU and NYC. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did :)
*also thanks @uzmacchiato for the gorgeous banners <3
you and bucky are the tower's most unlikely duo.
not because you're a stark and he's the winter soldier, though that's part of it. it's because you're all bright, chaotic energy and he's quiet, steady, calm. you're a supernova and he's the still, deep space that contains it. somehow, it works. perfectly.
you were the one who cracked him open, not with force, but with persistence. you didn't treat him like a fragile artifact or a lethal weapon. you just... treated him like bucky. you'd plop down next to him on the common room couch, steal his fries, and complain about your business law professor with the same breath you'd ask if he wanted to watch a documentary about deep-sea creatures.
he'd grumble, of course. a low "hm" or "don't want to" was his default. but he'd always stay. he'd watch the documentaries. he'd listen to your rants, and slowly, the grumbling turned into quiet hums of agreement, then into actual sentences. now, he'll debate with you about the logistics of deep-sea exploration and offer to help you study for business marketing by quizzing you with flashcards he makes himself.
your friendship is built on a foundation of shared mischief. you're the mastermind, he's the surprisingly willing accomplice. you once replaced all of sam's wingpack gear with glitter-filled replicas. bucky's job was to create a diversion so you could make the switch. his diversion? challenging sam to an arm-wrestling match in the middle of the kitchen. it was glorious. you've superglued clint's arrows to their quiver, put pink dye in steve's shampoo (which, to everyone's disappointment, just made his hair look shinier and blonder), and convinced natasha that a new, highly sensitive alarm system had been installed in the gym, forcing her to move in exaggerated slow motion for an entire afternoon before you both burst out laughing.
bucky's laugh is rare, a deep, rumbling thing that feels like a personal victory every time you coax it out of him.
and then there's the nyu thing. you're tony stark's daughter, but you're not just riding on his name. you're brilliant. top of your class at stern, a whiz with numbers and strategy, a natural-born leader who just happens to be able to recite the entire history of the avengers initiative. you're a dedicated student, and you actually enjoy going to your classes.
which means bucky walks you to class.
it started as a security thing, a tony-mandated precaution that bucky, with his stealth and observation skills, was perfect for. it quickly became your ritual. he'd wait for you by the tower's private entrance, an iced vanilla latte in his hand for you, his own black coffee in the other. the walk through washington square park became your time. you'd talk about everything and nothing. your classes, the latest missions, the terrible music someone was blasting from their apartment, the way the sun hit the leaves.
of course, two famous faces walking through nyc every day doesn't go unnoticed. the tabloids had a field day. "stark heir and winter soldier: nyc's hottest power couple?" read one headline. another featured a blurry photo of him handing you the coffee, captioned "secret lovers' rendezvous?" you and bucky found it hilarious. you'd read the articles out loud to each other, adding your own dramatic commentary.
"oh, bucky, darling, our secret is out!" you'd swoon dramatically against his shoulder.
"guess we'll have to go public," he'd deadpan, a smirk playing on his lips. "friday, start planning the press conference."
you're not dating. you're just... you and bucky. you're oblivious to the way his eyes soften when you laugh, and he's oblivious to the way your heart does a little flip when he remembers exactly how you take your coffee. everyone else sees it, though. natasha gives you these knowing looks. sam makes obnoxious kissing noises whenever you're in the same room. tony just sighs and mutters about "potential property damage" whenever bucky is near his daughter.
tonight is different, though. it's tuesday, which means it's your night. your secret. the one thing you do that's just for you, completely separate from being a stark, avenger, or a public-figure.
you're pulling on a worn-in nyu sweatshirt and some jeans, a yankees cap on your head, and grabbing your tote bag from the hook by your door, when a quiet voice makes you jump.
"where are you going?"
you spin around. bucky is leaning against your doorframe, right outside your cracked open door, arms crossed over his chest. he's wearing a simple black henley and jeans, his hair slightly messy. he looks... soft. domestic.
"jesus, bucky! you're like a cat." you clutch your chest. "i'm just going out."
"it's almost nine." he pushes off the doorframe, his brow furrowed slightly. "and it's raining. where do you go on tuesday nights?"
you hesitate. you love your secret. the shelter is your sanctuary, a place where you're not âtony stark's daughterâ you're just the girl who's âreally good at socializing the scaredy-catsâ you're just a volunteer.
"it's nothing," you say, a little too quickly. "just an... errand."
he tilts his head, his blue eyes narrowing just a fraction. he knows you're lying. he always knows. "it's raining," he says again, his voice lower. "i don't want you walking around the city alone in the dark. in the rain."
you sigh, knowing you're not going to win this one. and a small, traitorous part of you is actually happy about it. "i can take care of myself, you know."
"i know," he says, stepping closer. "humor me."
so you tell him. you explain about the "paws and reflect" shelter, a small, underfunded place in the east village that takes in the hardest cases. the cats no one else wants. you explain how you started volunteering there a year ago, looking for something normal to do with your hands, something that wasn't studying or saving the world.
he listens intently, his expression unreadable. when you finish, he just nods.
"can i come?" he asks.
your eyes widen. "what? no. it's my thing."
"i know," he says softly. "but it's late, and it's raining, and i don't want you going alone. i won't get in the way. i'll just... sit in the corner. i promise." he looks so earnest, so genuinely concerned, that you feel your resolve crumbling.
"fine," you grumble, grabbing your keys. "but if you scare any of the cats, i'm leaving you out on the streets."
the rain is a light, persistent drizzle, blurring the city lights into watercolor smears as you drive. driving in the city is always a pain, and youâre not very good at it, but you insisted on driving, not trusting bucky's "i learned in the 40s" driving skills in manhattan traffic. he doesn't argue, just slides into the passenger seat of your sensible yet stylish suv, the one tony bought you for your "safety." you never really wanted it, not from ungratefulness, but because you never liked driving. except, after the avengers became public figures, taxis were not much of an option.
the shelter is tucked away on a quiet side street, a small storefront with a hand-painted sign of a cat chasing its tail. the inside smells faintly of antiseptic and... well, cat. but it's a warm, comforting smell. rachel, the night manager, looks up from behind the front desk, her face breaking into a warm smile when she sees you.
"hey! you're a little later than usual." her eyes flick to bucky, who's hovering awkwardly by the door, looking like a 200-pound assassin who's accidentally wandered into a knitting circle. her smile widens. "and you brought a friend."
"rachel, this is bucky," you say, trying to sound casual. "bucky, this is rachel. she keeps this place from falling apart."
"nice to meet you," bucky says, his voice quiet. he offers a small, polite nod.
"you too," rachel says, her eyes twinkling. "any friend of our best volunteer is a friend of ours. she's a miracle worker, you know. got oliver to come out from under the bed last week. he's been there for six months."
you feel a flush of pride. "he just needed to know someone wasn't going to grab at him."
"well, you're the only one he'll let near him," rachel says, shoving a clipboard at you. "usual chores. litter boxes need changing, food and water top-ups. it's pretty quiet tonight, most of the adoptions were done this afternoon."
you loved this shelter because it offered you a profound sense of normalcy. here, you weren't some untouchable figure to be revered; you were just another pair of hands, given tasks and told where to help. it was a complete escape from your reality.
you take the clipboard and turn to bucky. "okay. so, the rule is, move slowly. no sudden movements. let them come to you. don't stare. blink slowly. it's like... cat sign language for 'i'm not a threat'."
he nods, his expression serious, like you're giving him mission briefing. "slow movements. no staring. got it."
you lead him through the facility. it's not fancy, but it's clean and warm. rows of crates and pens line the walls, each containing a cat or two. some are sleeping, curled into tight balls of fur. others watch you with wide, curious eyes. a few hiss from the back of their cages, a low, warning sound.
you hand bucky a scoop and a bag of food. "you're on food and water duty. i'll handle the... less glamorous stuff."
he takes the scoop without complaint, his eyes already scanning the room, assessing it with the same focus he'd use on a recon mission. it's almost funny, seeing the winter soldier treat a bag of dry kibble with such solemn gravity.
you get to work. the rhythmic scrape of the scoop against the bottom of food bowls mixes with the quiet meows and the distant rumble of the city. you're in your element here, moving from cage to cage, speaking in soft, murmuring tones. "hello, jasmine. you look beautiful today. here you go, mittens. dinner is served."
bucky is surprisingly good at this. he's quiet, his movements economical and precise. he doesn't try to pet any of the cats, just fills their bowls and refills their water, his presence a calm, non-threatening constant. you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you finish cleaning the last litter box. he's crouched in front of a cage containing a huge, grumpy-looking orange tabby who is famous for swatting at anyone who comes near.
"his name is garfield," you whisper, walking over to stand beside him. "and he lives up to it. don't take it personally if he tries to take your hand off."
bucky doesn't look at you. his focus is entirely on the cat. he slowly extends his hand, not to pet, but just to rest near the bars of the cage, palm up. garfield flattens his ears, lets out a low growl. bucky doesn't flinch. he just stays there, a silent, steady offering. after a long moment, garfield relaxes, just a fraction. he inches forward, sniffing the air near bucky's fingers.
"see?" bucky murmurs, his voice barely audible. "he's just scared."
your heart does that stupid little flip again. he's not just looking at a stray cat; he's seeing a reflection of himself. of something that's been hurt and is lashing out because it doesn't know how to be gentle anymore.
"yeah," you say softly. "he is."
you finish the chores in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft padding of your feet on the linoleum and the distant purr of a contented cat. the shelter feels different with him here. not invaded, but... shared. like a secret you didn't know you wanted to tell.
"okay, that's the last of it," you say, wiping your hands on your jeans. "we just have to wait for rachel to do her final rounds and then we can go."
you lean against the counter, and bucky leans next to you, his shoulder just a breath away from yours. the space between you feels charged, warm. the rain outside has picked up, tapping a gentle rhythm against the window.
"you're really good with them," you say, breaking the quiet.
"they're simple," he replies, his gaze fixed on the rows of sleeping cats. "they don't want anything from you except a little patience and some food. no ulterior motives."
"unlike people," you say, a wry smile touching your lips.
"unlike most people," he corrects gently, and he glances at you when he says it, and the look in his eyes is so open, so sincere, it makes your breath catch. "not you, though."
you feel your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly find the floor pattern absolutely fascinating. "well, i mean, i do occasionally want to steal your fries."
a low chuckle rumbles in his chest. "that's different. that's... friendly fire." he teases.
you laugh, and the sound feels too loud in the quiet shelter. you both fall silent again, but it's not awkward. it's... nice. it's the kind of quiet you can sink into.
"why this place?" he asks after a moment. "why not a big, fancy shelter? you could get your dad to fund one, name it after you, the whole nine yards."Â
you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt. "that's the thing. i didn't want it to be about me. i didn't want to be 'tony stark's daughter, the philanthropist.'â you said exaggerating and nodding. âi just wanted to be... me. scooping litter boxes. i don't know. it feels real. here, i'm not a nepobaby or an avenger. i'm the girl who knows that oliver under the bed prefers pâtĂŠ to chunks." you said jokingly.
he's watching you again, that intense, focused gaze that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world. "you're not a nepobaby," he says, his voice firm.
"bucky, i literally got into nyu because my dad has a building named after him there."
"you're at the top of your class," he counters. "your dad's name doesn't get you a's on your exams. you do that."
the way he says it, with such absolute conviction, makes something warm and gooey spread through your chest. you're used to people dismissing your accomplishments, assuming they're handed to you. bucky never has. he's the one who stays up with you when you're cramming for finals, quizzing you until you can recite business economic principles in your sleep.
"thanks," you mumble, feeling uncharacteristically shy.
"it's just the truth," he says simply.
you're about to say something else, something equally sappy and out of character, when a tiny sound cuts through the quiet. it's not a meow. it's more of a squeak. a pathetic, little mew.
you both turn toward the sound. it's coming from the last pen in the row, the one usually reserved for new intakes that need to be kept isolated. you walk over, bucky right behind you.
inside, all by herself, is the tiniest kitten you've ever seen. she's pure white, with fur so fluffy she looks like a little cloud. one of her ears is folded over, and she has the biggest, bluest eyes you've ever seen in your life. she's shivering, her whole body trembling, and she lets out another pathetic little mew.
"oh, you poor thing," you coo, automatically unlatching the cage door. "where did you come from?"
bucky crouches down beside you, his expression softening into something you've never seen before. it's pure, unadulterated awe. "she's so small."
you reach in slowly, letting the kitten sniff your fingers. she hesitates, then butts her tiny head against your hand, purring a motorboat rumble that seems way too big for her little body. you gently scoop her up, cradling her against your chest. she immediately burrows into your sweatshirt, her tiny claws kneading the fabric.
"she was probably abandoned," you say, stroking her soft fur. "she can't be more than a few weeks old."
bucky reaches out with his flesh hand, his movements impossibly gentle, and strokes the kitten's head with one finger. the kitten looks up at him, blinks slowly, and then licks his finger. a smile breaks across his face. a real, genuine, breathtaking smile that reaches all the way to his eyes.
"she likes you," you whisper, your own smile matching his.
"yeah," he breathes, his eyes glued to the tiny creature in your arms. "she's... perfect."
you both just stare at her for a long time, completely mesmerized. she's a tiny, fluffy ball of perfection, and in that moment, you both fall completely, irrevocably in love.
"we should name her," bucky says, his voice still hushed.
"alpine," you say immediately, the name popping into your head without thinking.
he looks up at you, his blue eyes wide. "alpine?"
"yeah," you say, a little embarrassed. "it's just... she's white, like snow. and it feels... peaceful. you know?"
a slow smile spreads across his face. "yeah," he says softly. "i do know."
you're both still staring at the kitten, who has now fallen asleep in your arms, when the reality of the situation starts to dawn on you. this tiny, perfect creature is here, in this shelter, and she needs a home. your home.
"bucky," you say slowly, your eyes meeting his. "what are we going to do?"
he knows exactly what you mean. the smile fades from his face, replaced by a look of pure panic. "the tower," he says, his voice a horrified whisper. "your dad."
"and steve," you add, your own voice rising in panic. "he'll probably have an allergic reaction just from looking at her." i guess the super-serum doesnât take away all weaknesses
"and natasha will try to train her to be an assassin," bucky says, his eyes wide with terror. "sam will try to put her in a tiny flight suit."
"and my dad will build her a $50 million robotic litter box that will probably try to take over the world," you laugh, the full, horrifying weight of your decision crashing down on you.
you look at each other, the same manic, determined gleam in your eyes. it's the same look you get right before you execute a really good prank.
"we're doing it, aren't we?" you ask, a grin already spreading across your face.
he looks down at the sleeping kitten, then back at you, and a slow, dangerous grin spreads across his face. it's the grin he gets right before he agrees to one of your terrible, wonderful ideas.
"yeah," he says, his voice filled with a terrifying resolve. "we're doing it."
the next twenty minutes are a blur of covert operations. you sign the adoption papers with a speed that would make a cheetah jealous, scribbling your name on the dotted line while rachel gives you a knowing look and a small cardboard carrier.
"be good to her," she says, her voice warm.
"we will," you and bucky say in unison, which makes you both pause and exchange a look. it's too synchronized. too domestic.
the drive back to the tower is the most nerve-wracking experience of your life, and that's saying a lot considering you once watched your dad fly a nuke into a wormhole. you finally let bucky drive. alpine is awake now, mewing pitifully from her carrier on your lap.
"shhh, shhh, it's okay," you whisper, peeking through the little air holes. "we're almost home."
Bucky keeps glancing in the mirrors, tapping a nervous rhythm on the dashboard. "Alright, so what's our cover story if we get stopped?" he asks with a grin. "I give it thirty seconds before Friday's assembling a strike team. Or should we just go with the truth and hope your dad doesn't kill us?"
"He won't kill us," you say, rolling your eyes playfully. "It's just a... a project. For my, uh, biology class. Very hands-on. heâll appreciate the educational aspectâ you add, nodding and shrugging.
"a project with fur and claws that sheds," bucky corrects grimly.
you use your private entrance, the one that leads directly to the residential elevators, bypassing the common areas and the main lobby. it's late, past midnight, so you're praying everyone is either asleep or on a mission. the elevator ride up to your floor is silent and tense. you hold the carrier, and bucky stands so close to you that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.
"okay," you whisper as the doors slide open. "phase one: get her to my room undetected."
"phase two: survive the morning," bucky adds, his eyes scanning the empty hallway as if this was a co-op mission.
you creep down the hall, a ridiculous, covert operation involving two highly trained individuals and a two-pound kitten. you reach your door, and you fumble with your keycard, a stupid stark security quirk, your hands shaking slightly. the lock clicks open with a sound that seems to echo through the entire tower.
you slip inside, bucky behind you, kicking the door shut with a soft sigh of relief. you place the carrier on the floor of your spacious bedroom and open the little door. alpine tentatively steps out, her little pink nose twitching as she takes in her new surroundings.
your room is your sanctuary. it's a mix of stark-tech minimalism and cozy chaos. a huge window overlooks the glittering manhattan skyline, but the floor is covered with soft rugs and piles of pillows. bookshelves overflow with textbooks, novels, and vogue magazines, and your desk is a controlled mess of laptops and notes.
alpine seems to approve. she takes a few small steps, then pounces on a stray pen, batting it under the bed. she looks up at you, lets out a triumphant mew!, and then proceeds to explore every nook and cranny of your room with the confidence of an mice inspecting a hole in the wall.
bucky is watching her, a look of pure, unadulterated fondness on his face. "she's so brave," he says softly.
"she's a stark," you joke, nudging his arm with your elbow, though there's a strange lump in your throat. "of course she's brave."
you find a small, fluffy blanket and lay it on the floor. alpine immediately abandons her exploration and curls up on it, falling asleep in seconds.
you and bucky stand there, watching her sleep, the silence in the room broken only by her tiny purrs.
"we're her parents now," you whisper, the words feeling both insane and completely right.
"co-parents," he corrects gently, his eyes still on the kitten.
"right," you say, your heart doing a weird little flutter. "co-parents."
you look at him, really look at him. the soft light from the city illuminates his profile, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the gentle curve of his mouth. he looks... happy. truly, deeply happy. and it's because of this tiny, fluffy creature you just impulsively decided to bring into your lives.
"we're going to be in so much trouble tomorrow," you say, but you're smiling.
"worth it," he says, and he turns to look at you, and the look in his eyes makes your breath catch. it's the same look he had when he was talking about the scared cats, the same look he had when he was defending your academic achievements. it's a look that says he sees you. all of you.
the space between you shrinks. you don't know who moves first, maybe you both do. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. his metal hand is cool against your waist. you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.
"i've wanted to do this for a while," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.
"me too," you breathe.
and then he kisses you. it's not a frantic, desperate kiss. it's slow, and gentle, and sure. it tastes like coffee and the rain and the promise of something new. it's a kiss that says "finally." it's a kiss that feels like coming home.
when you pull apart, you're both breathing heavily. you rest your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips.
"so," you whisper. "this changes things."
"yeah," he says, a smile in his voice. "it does."
you spend the rest of the night on your bed, talking in whispers so you don't wake the kitten. you talk about everything. about your fears, your hopes, the moment you each knew your friendship was something more. you fall asleep curled up together, with alpine a tiny, warm weight on the bed between your bodies.
the morning comes, as it always does, with the blare of the towers wake-up alarm and the distant sounds of the tower coming to life. you groan, burying your face in bucky's chest.
"it's judgment day," you mumble.
he kisses the top of your head. "start prepping the defense" he jokes.
you get dressed, steeling yourselves for the inevitable confrontation. you decide the best offense is a good defense. you'll just... walk out. with the cat. act like it's the most normal thing in the world.
bucky holds alpine, who is now purring contentedly in his arms, looking like the world's most intimidating and adorable cat dad. you take a deep breath, open your door, and step into the hallway, walking down to the kitchen for breakfast.
its full. almost every avenger is around the counter conversing.
tony is standing there, a cup of coffee in his hand, wearing a black led zeppelin t-shirt and a look of grim determination as he spoke with the others. steve is there, looking concerned in his captain america pajamas. natasha is leaning against the wall, a knowing smirk on her face. and sam is just... grinning. the traitor.
"well, well," tony says turning his head towards us walking in. his eyes zeroing in on the fluffy white creature in bucky's arms. "what have we here?"
you open your mouth, ready to launch into a defense, but bucky beats you to it. he just stands there, holding alpine, his expression completely calm.
"her name is alpine," he says, his voice steady. "and we're co-parenting."
the word hangs in the air. "we're." as in, the two of you. a unit.
tony's eyes flick from the cat to bucky to you, and then back to the cat. a slow, calculating grin spreads across his face. "co-parenting," he repeats. "so that's what the kids are calling it these days."
steve looks confused. "you got a cat? bucky, are you allergic? do you need an epi-pen?"
natasha just winks at you.
sam, however, is practically vibrating with excitement. "a cat! can i hold her? does she have a little avengers uniform? i can design one! with little wings!"
before anyone can say anything else, alpine, seemingly sensing she's the center of attention, does the most perfect thing she could possibly do. she wriggles out of bucky's arms, him quickly moving down closer to the floor before she fell. She immediately leaps gracefully to the floor, trots directly over to tony stark, and rubs her fluffy little body against his leg, purring like a motorboat.
tony stares down at her, his mouth slightly agape. he slowly bends down, his arc reactor glinting through his shirt in the morning light, and scratches alpine behind her folded ear. she responds by flopping over and exposing her belly.
"oh," tony says, his voice soft. "well. alright then."
and just like that, the war is over. you didn't even have to fire a single shot.
that evening, you and bucky are curled up on the common room couch. alpine is asleep on bucky's chest, rising and falling with each breath he takes. sam is on the floor, trying to teach alpine how to "fist bump" with her tiny paw. natasha is watching you both with an insufferably smug look. tony is on his tablet, and you're pretty sure he's designing a state-of-the-art, climate-controlled, self-cleaning cat tree.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
SUMMARY. Being Steve Rogersâ sister meant years of boys looking at you like a warning sign. Now that youâre in college, your lack of experience becomes a major problem. So you ask your brotherâs best friend to teach you everything. What starts as lessons becomes something neither of you have a name for yet.
WORD COUNT. 38.2K
WARNINGS. college au, brotherâs best friend trope, MDNI, fluff, slowish burn, angst, inexperienced reader, smut, virginity loss, oral (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple play, protected pnv, more to be added.
PARTS. Chapter 1 â teach me Chapter 2 â please me Chapter 3 â love me
NOTES. Steve is going to haunt the narrative like the wife who dies at the start of a film. You can imagine reader as Steveâs adopted sister, there will be no physical descriptions.
STATUS. COMPLETED
my masterlist!
coming to you every thursday⌠comment to be added to the taglist!
it all started when en una maĂąana pegajosa y hĂşmeda en Miami, Benito adentra el cafe que trabajas con gafas de sol y un sonrisa amable. El comienza a ir allĂ para verte y escapar de los paparazzi.
warnings: fallinginlove!
word count: ~4.6
note: chicos, pido permiso para subir esto en espaĂąol que al igual que ingles no es mi idioma nativo. sĂŠ que esta es una cuenta de fanfics de formula uno pero tambien soy muy fan de benito y estoy aprendiendo espaĂąol y creo que escribir me ayudarĂĄ a compreender las conjugaciones, vocabulario y gramatica. espero que a ustedes les encaten esta historia
El reloj encima de la mĂĄquina de espresso marcaba las 10:07. A las diez de la maĂąana solo entran ejecutivos apurados o alguna influencer buscando luz natural. Pero ese martes no habĂa nadie.
Afuera, Miami estaba pegajosa, hĂşmeda, con ese calor que se te mete en la piel aunque estĂŠs bajo aire acondicionado.
El cafĂŠ no estaba ubicado en cualquier esquina. Estaba en Brickell, en una de esas avenidas donde los edificios de vidrio reflejan el sol como si compitieran entre ellos, los autos caros pasaban despacio y gente bien vestida entraba y salĂa de oficinas silenciosas.
Yo habĂa limpiado la barra dos veces, acomodado las servilletas y revisado el celular un montĂłn de veces aunque no tenĂa notificaciones.
El aire acondicionado zumbaba constante. La mĂşsica suave de fondo parecĂa repetirse en bucle. El aroma del cafĂŠ reciĂŠn molido ya no me despertaba nada.
ApoyĂŠ los codos en el mostrador de mĂĄrmol y mirĂŠ la puerta de vidrio, viendo mi reflejo superpuesto con la calle soleada. Otro martes. Otra maĂąana lenta. Otra jornada contando monedas y minutos.
La campanita de la puerta sonĂł. Un sonido pequeĂąo. MetĂĄlico. Aburrido.
AjustĂŠ mi postura, pero no levantĂŠ la vista de inmediato.
"Buenos dĂas, ÂżquĂŠ teâŚ?"
Primero vi las gafas de sol. Grandes. Oscuras. Cubriendo media cara. DespuĂŠs el cabello. HĂşmedo. ReciĂŠn lavado. Escondido abajo del gorro. Algunos rizos cayendo sobre la frente.
Era ĂŠl.
SentĂ un golpe seco en el estĂłmago. No dolor. MĂĄs bien como si alguien hubiera empujado el aire fuera de mis pulmones.
Porque estaba ahĂ. De pie frente a mĂ. Como si entrar a un cafĂŠ cualquiera en una maĂąana aburrida fuera lo mĂĄs normal del mundo.
Mi primera reacciĂłn fue mirarlo demasiado. La segunda, fingir que no lo estaba mirando. Me enderecĂŠ despacio, intentando que mi expresiĂłn no cambiara.
Se quitĂł las gafas con calma. Y ahĂ estaba. Sus ojos recorrieron el lugar vacĂo, luego se detuvieron en mĂ.
"Buenos dĂas" dijo.
Su voz era mĂĄs baja de lo que imaginaba. MĂĄs cercana.
"Buenos dĂas" respondĂ, sorprendida de que mi voz sonara estable "ÂżQuĂŠ te puedo ofrecer?"
Una pequeĂąa sonrisa apareciĂł en la comisura de sus labios.
"Un cold brew. Sin azĂşcar. Porfa"
"ÂżPara llevar?"
NegĂł con la cabeza.
"Para aquĂ."
Se acercĂł un poco mĂĄs al mostrador mientras yo preparaba el cafĂŠ. PodĂa oler el perfume mezclado con el aroma fresco del shampoo. Algo limpio y cĂĄlido.
TomĂŠ el vaso alto. El hielo chocĂł contra el plĂĄstico. El sonido fue exageradamente fuerte en el silencio. PodĂa sentir su mirada.
VertĂ el cafĂŠ frĂo con cuidado. Demasiado cuidado. GirĂŠ apenas para colocar la tapa y mi codo rozĂł accidentalmente la varilla de vapor de la mĂĄquina, que aĂşn estaba caliente.
El dolor fue inmediato.
"Ah!!"
El vaso se inclinĂł peligrosamente mientras mi mano reaccionaba por reflejo. IntentĂŠ sostenerlo, pero el cafĂŠ oscuro se derramĂł sobre la barra y parte salpicĂł mi muĂąeca ya enrojecida.
"ÂżEstĂĄs bien?" su voz cambiĂł al instante.
Antes de que pudiera responder, ya estaba del otro lado del mostrador. Benito tomĂł mi muĂąeca con cuidado.
"DĂŠjame ver."
"Estoy bien" mentĂ, no lo estaba.
La piel empezaba a ponerse roja, sensible, y el cafĂŠ frĂo mezclado con el calor del metal hacĂa que todo ardiera mĂĄs. AbriĂł el grifo sin pedir permiso y colocĂł mi mano bajo el agua frĂa. Su mano seguĂa sosteniendo la mĂa.
"Eso necesita que lo revisen" dijo, observando la marca que comenzaba a formarse.
"No es para tanto." LevantĂł la mirada hacia mĂ. Y por primera vez sentĂ el peso directo de sus ojos sin gafas de por medio.
"No estoy preguntando."
El agua frĂa corrĂa sobre mi muĂąeca, pero el ardor seguĂa pulsando debajo de la piel. Ăl no soltaba mi mano. La sostenĂa con firmeza, con el ceĂąo ligeramente fruncido, como si estuviera evaluando algo mĂĄs que una simple quemadura.
Silencio. Uno distinto. Calculado. Lo vi inhalar despacio.
Su mirada se moviĂł hacia la puerta de vidrio. Luego hacia las ventanas. DespuĂŠs hacia la calle impecable de Brickell, donde todo era demasiado visible. HabĂa algo detrĂĄs de sus ojos.
"ÂżTienes coche?" preguntĂł finalmente.
TardĂŠ un segundo en procesar la pregunta.
"SĂâŚ" respondĂ "EstĂĄ atrĂĄs..."
AsintiĂł. Otra pausa.
"ÂżPuedes conducir asĂ?" preguntĂł, bajando la mirada hacia mi muĂąeca.
RetirĂŠ la mano del agua, intentando restarle importancia.
"Claro." El ardor volviĂł con el aire.
Ăl frunciĂł el ceĂąo apenas.
"No."
"Benito, no es para tanto. De verdad puedo ir sola."
No reaccionaba impulsivamente. Calculaba todo.
MirĂł hacia el techo. RespirĂł hondo. VolviĂł a mirarme.
"Salimos por atrĂĄs."
"No tienes que involucrarte" insistĂ.
Silencio. Su mandĂbula se tensĂł apenas.
SecĂł mi muĂąeca con servilletas limpias, con cuidado. Sus dedos eran firmes, pero delicados. Solto mi muĂąeca solo para buscar sus gafas de sol sobre el mostrador. Se las colocĂł con calma, ocultando su mirada otra vez.
Luego levantĂł la capucha del hoodie que llevaba, un gesto casi automĂĄtico, precavido, ensayado mil veces. ColoquĂŠ el cartel de âvuelvo enseguidaâ, cerrĂŠ con llave y salimos por la puerta trasera hacia el estacionamiento.
Ăl inclinĂł ligeramente la cabeza.
"Un Corolla." Pausa. "Respeto eso."
ParpadeĂŠ confusa.
"ÂżRespeta?"
Se acercĂł al coche.
"Ese carro nunca te abandona. Puede sobrevivir a un huracĂĄn, a una ruptura y a tres trabajos mal pagados."
Lo mirĂŠ. Una sonrisa involuntaria se me escapĂł.
AbriĂł la puerta del copiloto y la sostuvo.
"Sube."
"Puedo manejar."
Se inclinĂł un poco, bajando la voz.
"No vas a manejar con la mano asĂ, mami"
Le entreguĂŠ las llaves.
RodeĂł el coche y se sentĂł en el asiento del conductor. AjustĂł el asiento manualmente, moviendo la palanca con una pequeĂąa dificultad.
"Wow" murmurĂł "Esto es retro."
"Funciona."
SonriĂł apenas.
"Eso es lo que importa"
EncendiĂł el motor. El sonido fue modesto, familiar.
Se acomodĂł las gafas otra vez y mirĂł por el retrovisor.
"Los paparazzi no conocen este Corolla, Âżverdad?"
NeguĂŠ con la cabeza.
"Nadie lo conoce" contestĂŠ confusa
Salimos del estacionamiento con calma.
Silencio.
"Buen gusto" dijo de repente.
Lo mirĂŠ.
"ÂżEn coches?"
El sonriĂł.
GirĂł en el semĂĄforo con suavidad. La clĂnica privada apareciĂł a media cuadra. EstacionĂł frente a la entrada. El viaje durĂł menos de 10 minutos.
ApagĂł el motor. Se quedĂł un segundo con las manos en el volante. MirĂł el edificio. DespuĂŠs la calle. DespuĂŠs los espejos. Calculando.
"Gracias."
Ăl girĂł apenas hacia mĂ.
"Entra. Que te revisen eso ahora."
EsperĂŠ que bajara, pero no lo hizo.
"ÂżNo vienes?"
NegĂł.
"Voy a llevar el carro."
"ÂżQuĂŠ?"
"Te lo devuelvo" aĂąadiĂł enseguida "Te lo prometo." Lo mirĂŠ. Una pequeĂąa sonrisa apareciĂł en la esquina de su boca. "ConfĂa en mĂ."
La palabra quedĂł flotando entre nosotros. Su tono se suavizĂł apenas.
"Te lo voy a devolver. No te voy a robar el Corolla legendario."
Eso arrancĂł una risa breve de mĂ.
"MĂĄs te vale."
"Ese carro merece respeto." Dijo con una seriedad fingida
AbrĂ la puerta. El aire cĂĄlido de Miami me envolviĂł al instante. Antes de cerrarla, lo mirĂŠ una Ăşltima vez. Capucha arriba. Gafas puestas. Las manos firmes en el volante de mi Corolla gris. No parecĂa una celebridad.
Y cuando las puertas de vidrio comenzaron a abrirse, escuchĂŠ el motor arrancar detrĂĄs de mĂ. No mirĂŠ de inmediato. No querĂa que el momento se rompiera. Pero cuando lo hice, el Corolla ya estaba incorporĂĄndose a la avenida brillante de Brickell.
Me quedĂŠ mirando hasta que el Corolla se perdiĂł entre el trĂĄfico.
Las puertas automĂĄticas de la clĂnica se abrieron frente a mĂ con un sonido suave. El aire frĂo del interior escapĂł hacia la calle. Yo no me movĂ. Me quedĂŠ allĂ, justo en el umbral.
El contraste del aire acondicionado contra el calor de Miami me recorriĂł la piel, pero mi mente estaba en otro lugar.
ÂżHabĂa sido real?
-----
El autobĂşs frenĂł de golpe y alguien chocĂł contra mi hombro.
"PerdĂłn" murmurĂł
Yo llevaba cuarenta minutos de bus hasta el cafe. Cuarenta. Minutos.
El aire acondicionado no funcionaba bien. El olor a perfume barato mezclado con sudor me estaba quitando aĂąos de vida. MirĂŠ por la ventana empaĂąada.
Brickell pasaba lentamente afuera. Y mi Corolla no estaba ahĂ. Porque seguĂa sin aparecer. Dos dĂas.
Dos dĂas desde que "Benito" o "Bad Bunny" se llevĂł mi coche prometiendo devolverlo. La situaciĂłn parece ridicula y irreal.
Mi muĂąeca ya no dolĂa tanto. Pero mi paciencia sĂ.
ÂżPor quĂŠ confiĂŠ en ĂŠl?
Me imaginĂŠ explicĂĄndole a la policĂa:
âSĂ, oficial, le prestĂŠ mi Corolla a un artista internacional porque parecĂa responsable.â
Genial.
Talvez deberĂa denunciarlo por robo. Seguramente ganarĂa mucho dinero.
El autobĂşs volviĂł a frenar bruscamente y finalmente mi parada. BajĂŠ casi empujando a dos personas. Quince minutos tarde para abrir el cafe. Perfecto.
CaminĂŠ rĂĄpido por la acera hacia el cafĂŠ. Tacones golpeando el pavimento. Cabello recogido a medias porque el autobĂşs habĂa arruinado cualquier intento de dignidad. DoblĂŠ la esquina. Y me detuve en seco.
Apoyado contra la puerta del cafĂŠ, con gafas oscuras y hoodie ligero, estaba ĂŠl. Como si no llevara dos dĂas desaparecido con mi coche.
Benito levantĂł la cabeza al verme. MirĂł su muĂąeca como si tuviera reloj.
"EstĂĄs tarde, mami"
ParpadeĂŠ enojada.
"ÂżPerdĂłn?"
Se enderezĂł, una sonrisa descarada dibujĂĄndose lentamente.
"Los clientes estĂĄn empezando a quejarse." SeĂąalĂł hacia la puerta cerrada. "Dicen que el cafĂŠ no abre solo."
Lo mirĂŠ incrĂŠdula.
"ÂżDĂłnde estĂĄ mi carro?"
Sin responder de inmediato, metiĂł la mano en el bolsillo del hoodie y sacĂł mis llaves. Las hizo girar suavemente entre los dedos antes de extenderlas hacia mĂ.
"En el mismo lugar donde lo encontrĂŠ." Pausa. "Limpio." Otra pausa. "Con el tanque lleno."
Me quedĂŠ mirĂĄndolo.
"ÂżDos dĂas?"
Ăl ladeĂł la cabeza.
"Tuve que asegurarme de que nadie supiera que lo conduje. No podĂa simplemente devolverlo y ya." SuspirĂł, pero esta vez no parecĂa calculando riesgos. "No querĂa meterte en un lĂo."
TomĂŠ las llaves de su mano. Nuestros dedos rozaron apenas.
"PensĂŠ que lo habĂas robado."
Una risa baja escapĂł de ĂŠl.
"ÂżTu Corolla? JamĂĄs."
No pude evitar que una sonrisa se me escapara. IntentĂŠ contenerla.
Silencio.
"EntoncesâŚ" dijo ĂŠl, retrocediendo un paso "ÂżVas a abrir o los clientes van a tener que hacer su propio cafĂŠ?"
Lo mirĂŠ.
"ÂżClientes?"
SeĂąalĂł detrĂĄs de mĂ con la barbilla. Me girĂŠ. Dos personas efectivamente estaban esperando a unos metros, mirando la puerta cerrada.
"Nos vemos, Y/N.
-
Despues de un dia longo en el cafĂŠ volvi a mi Corolla para tomar el camino de casa.
No lo notĂŠ al principio. Solo cuando lleguĂŠ a casa y abrĂ la puerta trasera para sacar mi bolso, lo vi. Un bulto oscuro en el asiento de atrĂĄs. Un hoodie. Negro. Pesado. De buena calidad. Lo levantĂŠ. Adidas.
SoltĂŠ una pequeĂąa risa nasal. Claro.
Como si le fuera a importar perder un hoodie. Probablemente podrĂa comprar todo el stock nacional de Adidas sin notar el cargo en su cuenta.
-
A la maĂąana siguiente, cuado aparquĂŠ el coche en el aparcamiento detrĂĄs del cafĂŠ. Lluvia intensa. Cielo gris. Viento que empujaba el agua en diagonal.
No encontraba mi paraguas en el carro. La app de pronĂłstico del tiempo decĂa que la tormenta durarĂa horas. MirĂŠ la silla. El hoodie.
SuspirĂŠ.
"Es solo ropa" murmurĂŠ para convencerme.
Me lo puse.
Era grande. MĂĄs grande de lo que esperaba. Las mangas me cubrĂan parte de las manos. El olor era tenue, limpio, con algo difĂcil de definir. No era perfume. Era ĂŠl.
SacudĂ la cabeza. RidĂculo.
SalĂ bajo la lluvia con la capucha puesta.
El tejido grueso absorbĂa parte del agua. No toda. Pero suficiente para llegar sin empaparme por completo.
CaminĂŠ rĂĄpido las Ăşltimas cuadras hacia el cafĂŠ. La lluvia golpeaba el pavimento. Los autos salpicaban. El mundo parecĂa mĂĄs pequeĂąo bajo el sonido constante del agua.
DoblĂŠ la esquina. Y ahĂ estaba.
Apoyado bajo el pequeĂąo techo que protegĂa la entrada del cafĂŠ.
Gafas oscuras. Gorra. Manos en los bolsillos. Esperando.
Ăl levantĂł la cabeza al verme. Y su mirada bajĂł directamente al hoodie.
SeguĂ caminando hasta quedar a unos pasos.
"Buenos dĂas" dije, como si nada.
Ăl inclinĂł ligeramente la cabeza.
"Buenos."
Pausa.
Sus ojos volvieron al hoodie. Una ceja se levantĂł apenas.
"Bonito hoodie."
"Gracias."
IntentĂŠ pasar a su lado para abrir la puerta.
"ÂżCĂłmodo, no?" aĂąadiĂł, con una calma peligrosa.
Me detuve un segundo. Eso lo hizo sonreĂr. Lento.
"Me alegra que estĂŠ en buenas manos."
"Lo olvidaste" respondĂ rĂĄpido "Iba a devolvĂŠrtelo."
"ÂżAh, sĂ?"
Se enderezĂł un poco. La distancia entre nosotros se redujo apenas un paso.
"PodrĂa olvidarlo mĂĄs seguido entonces."
Yo seguĂa usando su hoodie.
Y ĂŠl seguĂa mirĂĄndome como si la escena le perteneciera un poco.
Demasiado.
"ÂżVas a abrir?" preguntĂł finalmente, con tono casi inocente.
TardĂŠ medio segundo en reaccionar.
"SĂ."
BusquĂŠ las llaves y abrĂ la puerta. Y mientras entrĂĄbamos al cafĂŠ, con el olor a lluvia todavĂa pegado a la tela que llevaba puesta, entendĂ algo peligroso: Talvez ĂŠl no lo habĂa olvidado.
Yo me movĂ detrĂĄs del mostrador, intentando actuar como si nada fuera extraĂąo.
Como si no estuviera usando su hoodie.
Como si ĂŠl no estuviera ahĂ mirĂĄndome.
TomĂŠ una taza.
"ÂżLo de siempre?" preguntĂŠ.
Ăl caminĂł lentamente hasta el mostrador.
Se quitĂł las gafas por un momento y las dejĂł sobre la madera.
"SĂ."
EmpecĂŠ a preparar el cafĂŠ, concentrĂĄndome demasiado en cada movimiento.
El sonido de la mĂĄquina de espresso rompĂa el silencio.
SentĂa su mirada.
Cuando puse la taza frente a Êl, Benito levantó la vista⌠y luego volvió a mirar el hoodie.
"Creo que tengo que recuperar eso."
BajĂŠ la mirada hacia las mangas demasiado largas.
"SĂ, claro."
Me crucĂŠ de brazos, incĂłmoda.
"Lo lavĂŠ."
Ăl soltĂł una risa corta.
"No hacĂa falta." TomĂł un sorbo del cafĂŠ.
Luego apoyĂł los codos en el mostrador y dijo con total calma:
"Pero lo quiero de vuelta."
AsentĂ.
"Entonces tĂłmalo." Hice el gesto de quitĂĄrmelo.
"No tan fĂĄcil." Me detuve.
"ÂżPerdĂłn?"
Una pequeĂąa sonrisa apareciĂł en su boca.
"CondiciĂłn."
SuspirĂŠ.
"Claro. Tiene que haber una condiciĂłn."
Ăl levantĂł un dedo.
"CafĂŠ gratis."
"Eso ya lo tienes."
"No."
NegĂł suavemente con la cabeza.
"Quiero que tĂş te sientes a tomarlo conmigo."
ParpadeĂŠ.
"Estoy trabajando."
"TodavĂa no hay clientes."
MirĂŠ hacia las ventanas. La lluvia seguĂa cayendo fuerte. Las calles estaban casi vacĂas.
VolvĂ a mirarlo.
"Cinco minutos" dijo "Y recupero mi hoodie."
Me crucĂŠ de brazos.
"Eso suena mĂĄs a chantaje que a trato."
Ăl se encogiĂł de hombros.
"Funciona."
Lo mirĂŠ durante unos segundos. Luego rodĂŠ los ojos, derrotada.
"Cinco minutos."
Su sonrisa creciĂł apenas.
Me quitĂŠ el hoodie lentamente y lo dejĂŠ sobre el mostrador. Por un segundo, el aire frĂo del cafĂŠ me hizo estremecer.
Benito tomĂł el hoodie. Pero en vez de llevĂĄrselo, lo dejĂł doblado a su lado.
Luego empujĂł otra taza hacia mĂ.
"SiĂŠntate."
FruncĂ el ceĂąo.
"PensĂŠ que querĂas tu hoodie."
TomĂł otro sorbo de cafĂŠ.
"Lo quiero." Pausa. "Pero no tengo prisa."
Al principio, todo fue contenido. Las palabras salĂan con cuidado, como si ambos estuviĂŠramos tanteando el terreno sin querer romper algo que todavĂa no entendĂamos. Pero, sin darme cuenta, empecĂŠ a notar cosas en ĂŠl: la forma en que inclinaba la cabeza cuando escuchaba de verdad, cĂłmo jugaba distraĂdamente con la taza entre los dedos, cĂłmo sonreĂa apenas antes de decir algo, como si pensara un segundo mĂĄs de lo necesario.
La conversaciĂłn se fue soltando sola. Saltamos de un tema a otro con una facilidad extraĂąa, encontrando coincidencias pequeĂąas en gustos que parecĂan insignificantes, pero que se sentĂan demasiado personales. HabĂa algo en la manera en que reaccionaba âuna risa baja, una mirada que se quedaba un segundo mĂĄsâ que hacĂa que todo se sintiera cercano, cĂłmodo⌠casi como si no hubiera nada mĂĄs fuera de ese momento.
Cuando me di cuenta, la luz habĂa cambiado. La lluvia ya no golpeaba las ventanas y el cafĂŠ seguĂa casi vacĂo. Dos horas. Dos horas que no sentĂ pasar. El sonido de la campanita rompiĂł el aire, y todo volviĂł de golpe: el espacio, el tiempo, la realidad. Ăl se levantĂł con esa misma calma de siempre, se despidiĂł rĂĄpidamente como si nada hubiera sido extraordinario y saliĂł por la puerta.
-
El viernes llegĂł sin avisar. MĂĄs movimiento que de costumbre, pero nada caĂłtico. Suficiente gente como para mantenerme ocupada, no lo suficiente como para no pensar.
Y pensĂŠ.Mientras servĂa cafĂŠs. Mientras limpiaba la barra. Mientras escuchaba pedidos que olvidaba dos segundos despuĂŠs.
Ya habĂa pasado una semana. Siete dĂas desde la Ăşltima vez que saliĂł por esa puerta. Y no volviĂł.
Una noche, casi por impulso, lo busquĂŠ "Bad Bunny". Primero en Google, despuĂŠs Instagram y despuĂŠs en toda web. Esperaba ver algo. Un evento. Un concierto. Una foto en algĂşn lugar que explicara su ausencia.
Pero nada. Como si simplemente⌠no estuviera. Como si hubiera salido de mi mundo y del suyo al mismo tiempo. RidĂculo.
SeguĂ trabajando. AutomĂĄtico. Tal vez fue eso. Tal vez ese momento en el cafĂŠ no habĂa sido nada. Un par de coincidencias que se sintieron mĂĄs grandes de lo que eran.
Pero entonces, cada vez que pasaba por la esquina del mostrador, lo veĂa. El hoodie. Las gafas. PodrĂa sentir tu olor.
El hoodie llevĂŠ pa mi casa. El lo habĂa olvidado otra vez el Ăşltimo dĂa que lo vi. Lo peor era que lo usaba. A veces por la maĂąana, cuando el aire estaba mĂĄs frĂo. A veces por la noche, sin pensar demasiado.
Siempre con la misma excusa: es cĂłmodo. es prĂĄctico. es solo ropa. Y eso me hacĂa sentir⌠un poco estĂşpida.
-
El final del turno llegĂł arrastrĂĄndose. A las siete en punto, el cafĂŠ ya estaba casi en silencio otra vez. Las luces mĂĄs cĂĄlidas, el murmullo lejano de la calle, y ese cansancio que se acumula en los hombros despuĂŠs de un dĂa entero de pie.
Estaba de espaldas a la puerta, limpiando la barra por Ăşltima vez, repasando movimientos automĂĄticos, cuando la campanita sonĂł.
CerrĂŠ los ojos un segundo. RespirĂŠ hondo. Un cliente mĂĄs.
âPerdĂłn, ya cerramos en cinco â empecĂŠ a decir, girĂĄndome.
Y me quedĂŠ en silencio.
Era ĂŠl "Bad Bunny"
De pie en la entrada, como si el tiempo no hubiera pasado en absoluto.
Llevaba un hoodie puesto, la capucha arriba, pantalón cómodo, medias y chinelos. Como si hubiera salido de casa sin pensar demasiado. Como si acabara de despertarse⌠aunque ya fueran las siete de la tarde.
No dijo hola. Ni siquiera pareciĂł sorprendido de verme. Solo dio un paso hacia adentro y dijo, con esa calma de siempre:
"Estaba por el barrio." Pausa.
Sus ojos se posaron en mĂ como si la semana no hubiera existido.
"Y pensĂŠ que tal vez querĂas una carona."
Como si no hubiera desaparecido.
"No, gracias" respondĂ, sin pensar demasiado "Tengo coche."
Ăl sonriĂł. No sorprendido. Casi⌠divertido.
"ÂżSĂ?" dijo, ladeando la cabeza "ÂżYa has andado en Bugatti?"
ParpadeĂŠ. Por reflejo, mirĂŠ hacia afuera. Y ahĂ estaba. Bajo las luces de la calle, impecable, completamente fuera de lugar frente a un cafĂŠ que ya estaba por cerrar. Bajo, brillante, blanco, imposible de ignorar.
VolvĂ a mirarlo.
"Prefiero el Corolla."
Me girĂŠ de nuevo hacia la barra, retomando lo que estaba haciendo como si la conversaciĂłn hubiera terminado.
Silencio.
"Claro "murmurĂł ĂŠl despuĂŠs de un segundo "El Corolla"
HabĂa algo distinto en su tono ahora.
"Por lo menos aparece cuando lo necesito" soltĂŠ, sin girarme.
Silencio otra vez. MĂĄs largo. SentĂ su mirada en mi espalda.
"Bueno⌠no tanto cuando estĂĄ contigo... Durante dos dĂas..."
"Te dije que te lo iba a devolver y devolvĂ"
"SĂ" espondĂ, limpiando con mĂĄs fuerza de la necesaria "Pero despuĂŠs de dos dĂas y tuve que venir al trabajo en autobĂşs. No todo el mundo tiene los lujos de un artista famoso."
"TenĂa que hacerlo bien. ÂżNo lo entiendes?"
SoltĂŠ una risa seca.
"ÂżHacer quĂŠ? ÂżDesaparecer?"
Eso lo hizo moverse. Lo sentĂ mĂĄs cerca, aunque no lo mirĂŠ.
"No desaparecĂ."
"ÂżAh, no?" Me girĂŠ entonces. "Porque siete dĂas sin decir nada se parecen bastante a eso."
Por primera vez, su expresiĂłn cambiĂł.La mandĂbula tensa.La mirada mĂĄs fija.
"No te debĂa explicaciones." La frase cayĂł entre nosotros. Directa. Honesta.
AsentĂ lentamente y me sentĂ increĂblemente estĂşpida, mĂĄs una vez.
"Exacto." VolvĂ a girarme, tomando otra taza solo para hacer algo con las manos. "Entonces no sĂŠ por quĂŠ estĂĄs aquĂ. Ya hemos cerrado"
Silencio.
"Yo quise venir verla"
SoltĂŠ el paĂąo sobre la barra. Lo mirĂŠ otra vez. El silencio se alargĂł mĂĄs de lo necesario. TomĂŠ conciencia de lo exagerado que habĂa sido todo, de repente.
BajĂŠ la mirada un segundo, respirando hondo. Cuando volvĂ a levantarla, ĂŠl ya no estaba mirĂĄndome.
Su telĂŠfono vibrĂł. Lo sacĂł del bolsillo y contestĂł sin decir nada mĂĄs, girĂĄndose ligeramente, dĂĄndome la espalda a medias.
"SĂ⌠estoy aquĂ." Su voz volviĂł a ser otra.
AprovechĂŠ y volvĂ a lo mĂo. ApaguĂŠ las mĂĄquinas. AcomodĂŠ las tazas.
RevisĂŠ la caja.
Ninguno de los dos volviĂł a hablar. Solo se escuchaba su voz baja al telĂŠfono y el sonido del cafĂŠ terminando de cerrarse.
Cuando terminĂŠ, tomĂŠ mis cosas y caminĂŠ hacia la salida. Ăl ya estaba afuera. Apoyado contra el coche.
La Bugatti blanca seguĂa ahĂ, imposible de ignorar bajo las luces de la calle.
ColguĂŠ el cartel de cerrado. GirĂŠ la llave. SalĂ. El aire de la noche estaba mĂĄs fresco ahora.
Silencio otra vez. Un silencio mĂĄs contenido.
De pronto, se separĂł del coche y caminĂł hacia la puerta del conductor. La abriĂł. Y dio un paso atrĂĄs.
"Me dejaste manejar tu carro por dos dĂas." Pausa. Sus ojos se encontraron con los mĂos. "Creo que es justo que tĂş manejes el mĂo."
MirĂŠ la puerta abierta.Luego el coche. Luego a ĂŠl.SeguĂa un poco molesta. DudĂŠ un segundo. Pero siendo honestaâŚÂżCuĂĄndo iba a volver a tener la oportunidad de manejar un Bugatti?
ExhalĂŠ por la nariz. RodeĂŠ el coche y me sentĂŠ en el asiento del conductor.
El interior era completamente distinto a todo lo que conocĂa. Bajo. Preciso. Demasiado perfecto. CerrĂŠ la puerta.
EscuchĂŠ la puerta del otro lado abrirse. Se sentĂł en el asiento del copiloto y, por primera vez desde que habĂa llegado, pareciĂł ligeramente alerta.
"Es sensible" empezĂł, acomodĂĄndose el cinturĂłn "El acelerador responde rĂĄpido, y el freno..."
"Todos los coches tienen volante, pedales y ruedas" lo interrumpĂ, mirando al frente. GirĂŠ apenas la cabeza hacia ĂŠl. "Voy a estar bien. ÂżConfĂa en mĂ?"
Lo vi quedarse en silencio un segundo. Como si no estuviera acostumbrado a que lo interrumpieran. O a no tener el control de la situaciĂłn.
MetĂ la llave. EncendĂ el motor. El sonido fue inmediato. Profundo. Potente. Vivo. Mis manos se ajustaron al volante. Y, sin pensarlo demasiado... AcelerĂŠ.
El coche respondiĂł al instante, avanzando con una fuerza que me empujĂł contra el asiento.
GirĂŠ con suavidad hacia la calle, pero manteniendo la velocidad mĂĄs alta de lo necesario.
SentĂ su mirada en mĂ.
"Tranquila" dijo, esta vez sĂ un poco tenso
SonreĂ apenas. Sin mirarlo.
El motor rugĂa bajo nosotros. Las luces de Brickell pasaban mĂĄs rĂĄpido de lo habitual. Y cuando finalmente lo mirĂŠ de reojo. Lo vi sorpreso. SoltĂŠ una pequeĂąa risa.
"ÂżQuĂŠ pasĂł? ÂżNo confĂas en mĂ "Bad Bunny"?
Ăl exhalĂł, apoyando la cabeza un segundo contra el asiento.
"ConfĂo."
Eso solo hizo que presionara un poco mĂĄs el acelerador.
-
Al principio, ĂŠl seguĂa tenso. Se notaba en la forma en que miraba la calle, en cĂłmo sus manos descansaban rĂgidas sobre sus piernas, como si aĂşn estuviera listo para reaccionar en cualquier momento.
Pero poco a poco se fue soltando. Hasta que, sin darse cuenta, ya estaba seĂąalando el panel, cambiando la mĂşsica, subiendo el volumen.
"Acelera mami" dijo en un momento, con una sonrisa que no habĂa visto antes "Quiero escuchar cĂłmo suena."
Lo mirĂŠ de reojo. PresionĂŠ el acelerador. El motor respondiĂł de inmediato, mĂĄs fuerte, mĂĄs vivo.
Se riĂł. Una risa baja, genuina, que llenĂł el espacio mucho mĂĄs que la mĂşsica y ahĂ fue cuando todo terminĂł de cambiar.
Pasamos por un drive thru. Comida rĂĄpida, servilletas mal dobladas, bebidas apoyadas de cualquier forma entre nosotros. Nada elegante.
Nada perfecto.
Seguimos manejando.
Y sin decirle mucho, tomĂŠ una salida diferente. Menos luces.
Menos trĂĄfico. MĂĄs oscuro. Lo sentĂ notarlo.
"ÂżA dĂłnde vamos?" preguntĂł, bajando un poco el volumen.
HabĂa una leve cautela en su voz otra vez.
"ConfĂa papi" dije, repitiendo su propia palabra sin mirarlo. "Es un buen lugar."
No insistiĂł. Solo se recostĂł un poco en el asiento, observando el camino.
DespuĂŠs de unos minutos, girĂŠ por un camino que subĂa ligeramente. Y entonces parĂŠ. El motor quedĂł en un murmullo bajo.
Frente a nosotros, la ciudad entera se extendĂa. Miami iluminada, vibrante, distante. Desde ahĂ arriba, todo se veĂa distinto. MĂĄs pequeĂąo. MĂĄs silencioso.
ApaguĂŠ el motor. El silencio volviĂł. Pero no como antes. Ahora ya era cĂłmodo.
Lo mirĂŠ de reojo.
"Te dije que era un buen lugar" murmurĂŠ.
Y por primera vez desde que todo empezĂł, no parecĂa que estuviera en dos mundos distintos.
Se quedĂł mirando la ciudad por unos segundos. Las luces reflejadas en el parabrisas dibujaban destellos suaves en su rostro.
ApoyĂł la cabeza contra el asiento, soltando el aire despacio.
"No vengo a lugares asĂ." Pausa. GirĂł un poco el rostro hacia mĂ. "No asĂ." HabĂa algo distinto en su tono. "Contigo es fĂĄcil"
Antes de que pudiera responder, soltĂł una pequeĂąa risa.
"Aunque maĂąana probablemente tenga como un millĂłn de multas." NegĂł con la cabeza. "La prensa va a decir que perdĂ la cabeza."
Eso me hizo sonreĂr.
"La perdiste un poco."
"Puede ser."
Silencio.
Cuando lo mirĂŠ, ĂŠl ya me estaba mirando. El aire cambiĂł. Se volviĂł mĂĄs denso.
Y fue ahĂ cuando me apartĂŠ primero.
"Estoy cansada" murmurĂŠ, rompiendo el momento.
AsintiĂł. Sin discutir. Sin insistir. Solo abriĂł la puerta y saliĂł del coche.
RodeĂŠ el coche unos segundos despuĂŠs. El aire nocturno se sintiĂł mĂĄs frĂo al salir. CerrĂŠ la puerta detrĂĄs de mĂ. Y apenas tuve tiempo de girarme cuando sentĂ su mano.
Me empujĂł suavemente contra el coche. El metal frĂo contra mi espalda. El contraste con su cercanĂa.
Y entonces me besĂł. Sin aviso. Directo. Intenso.
El beso se volviĂł mĂĄs profundo, pero sin perder esa sensaciĂłn de cuidado. El frĂo del coche desapareciĂł rĂĄpido, reemplazado por el calor de su respiraciĂłn cerca de la mĂa, cada vez menos controlada.
Las luces de la ciudad se volvieron borrosas, el mundo quedĂł reducido a ese instante, a la forma en que sus manos se ajustaban mejor, a cĂłmo el beso cambiaba de ritmo sin aviso.
Mis dedos se aferraron a su hoodie sin pensar, manteniĂŠndolo cerca, como si soltarlo fuera romper algo que apenas estaba empezando.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
you stood alone, abandoned at the bar. lucas, your boyfriend, was nowhere to be seen. on the verge of tears, you began to feel very frustrated with his actions.
sure, you expected this from him, but on your birthday? did he not care about you at all? you looked over the sea of people, dancing, talking, drinking, and eating in an attempt to find your boyfriend but, nothing. your eyes landed on ashton, he saw the sadness in your eyes and knew.
this sadness has been lurking in your eyes for months now. no matter how badly you tried to hide it and put on a facade, ashton saw right through it.
you had become so insecure because of lucas, and ashton was tired of it. you deserved someone worth your time, you deserved someone who would look at you like you were the only thing good in this world. you deserved someone to treat you like you were the most delicate person on the face of the earth.
you deserved someone better.
he wished you wanted him.
to ashton, you were the best thing in his life. you had such a beautiful smile, the way you lit up as if he had done something stupid and you couldnât help but laugh. you were the brightest star in the night sky. you made ashton a better person. and to see lucas belittle you, seeing you lose the light in your eyes, watching you slowly creep into a shell of made him angry. this wasnât supposed to happen to you. not his y/n. not ashton best girl.
pushing past the crowd of people, peter was determined to be by your side. ây/n.â ashton emerged,. âashâ you sighed, feeling weight being lifted from your shoulders. âhe left me.â you finally blurted, you felt a pang in your chest knowing tears would soon follow. ashton wrapped his arms around you, letting your head rest on his chest. âi knowâ he sighed, rubbing your back gingerly. âash, your shirtâ you huffed, looking up at him. afraid of ruining it with your makeup. âshh itâs fineâ he shook his head, wiping away your tears with his callused thumb. he held you for a minute, but it felt like forever to you. âcmon, im taking you home.â he suggested, pulling away and reaching for your hand. âyou donât need to be here.â you nodded, following behind him and out the large doors.
exiting the building, ashtonâs touch never left the small of your back. âhe had no right to do that to you, y/n/nâ he huffed. you knew he was upset, and so were you. thinking you could get over your feelings for ashton but you only got hurt in return.
oh, foolish heart.
you had been swooning after ashton since high school. always liked him from a distance, even if the two of you were the best of friends.
you werenât good with confrontation, let alone rejection. because what if he rejected you? how could the two of you possibly stay friends after something like that?
but when you had got with lucas just a few years out of high school, ashton was the first to tell you his feelings.
even if it was a little too late.
âi canât believe he would be that stupid to leave you alone. if i see him, iâm gonna-â you were quick to grab his hand, cutting him off. âash. donât. just relax.â
ashton had accepted that lucas was your boyfriend but heâd still do everything he could to be in your life, as long as you were happy, he was happy. but seeing you so broken, and being used. he couldnât let it continue.
âpromise me something, y/n?â your eyes met with his. both of you stopping in your tracks. âend it with him. you donât need someone like that in your life.â
âi will.â
ashton had suggested he take you back to his place, to avoid seeing lucas when he came back later that evening.
you sat on the edge of ashtons bed, still in your dress while ashton had gotten you some water and advil to help with your growing headache. your eyes stared out the window, the night illuminated by only the stars. âi brought you some extra clothes, in case you wanted to change.â he entered the room, some folded clothes in hand, and laid them next to you. your eyes followed him, âthank you.â he nodded, âitâs no problemâ he shot you a sympathetic smile and handed you the medicine and bottle.
âyouâre always saving me, ash. thank youâ you sniffled as you took the two painkillers and downed them with a swig of water.
ashton only hummed, watching you take the clothes in hand and making your way to the bathroom.
and when you returned, ashton had changed as well. you tossed the blaxl dress on the floor and went back to ashtonâs bed.
âfeel better?â he looked up at you, only getting a shrug from you. âcan you help me take my hair down? thereâs a lot of pinsâ he patted the spot in front of him which you scooted over and he proceeded to pick the pins out of your hair. âyou knowâ ashton started, âlucas has no idea what heâs missing out on.â you simply shrugged, you couldnât stomach talking about him again.
âi donât know what i was thinking, i thought i could get my mind off someone else, but i only got hurt worse. iâm so stupidâ a dry laugh escapes your lips. ashton paused, now knowing why you had started dating lucas. but his shoulders dropped knowing you probably liked someone else. âstop. stop blaming yourself.â he hummed.
his scratchy voice sending chills down your spine. you only let your shoulders drop. looking down at your hands. soon enough he had gotten a majority of the pins out. and with that, you finally let your hair down letting up the stress on the scalp.
ashton got a whiff of the scent of your shampoo and he couldnât help but look away. you still havenât changed it all these years. that familiar floral smell filled his nostrils. it was still the same kind you used in high school, he wishes he could smell forever.
it was obvious you liked someone else. you discarded the hairpins, and sat next to ashton again. âif it wasnât for you, iâd be so lost. iâm so glad you came into my lifeâ you smiled sadly, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. âyouâll always have me in your corner. id do anything for you, you know that.â you nodded. you did know, hell, if you didnât have him youâd still be miserable. he was always there for you. no matter what.
you were now curled up on ashtons chest, your eyes still glued to the window. not saying anything, you thought he had fallen asleep by now. but when you looked up at him, he was looking down at you. âi thought you were asleep.â he laughed, a simple shake of his head. you smiled, the dim light of his lamp made his skin look so beautiful, the way his hair lay in his eyes, and how he looked at you. you could stare at him for ages.
you felt your heart beating, feeling as if it would beat out of your chest. you wondered if this was the moment youâd tell ashton how you felt for the past decade.
âwhatâs on your mind?â he asks softly, you hum. thinking if this was the right moment and if the words that were about to spill from your lips were a good idea. your eyes flicked from his hazel eyes to your fingers, picking at your cuticles.
âdo you remember a while back when you confessed to me and i had just gotten with lucas?â you ask. when you look up you see him studying you. he nods slowly, âyeah?â.
you puff your cheeks then release the air, sighing. âi liked you too at the time, and i still..well..i love you. i was with lucas simply because i thought you didnât like me like that..â you groaned quietly, realizing how stupid it sounded.
you saw his face contort, trying to process your words. you canât seem to read his expression. he falls silent for a moment, replaying his confession over and over again. it was all making sense.
âash?â you say, hoping he wouldnât be so upset with you. âi wish you wouldâve told me sooner..â he says, followed by a sigh. you frown, assuming you have missed your opportunity with your best friend.
âbut..â he continued, âi still love you, y/n. i have since we were teenagers. i donât think id ever be able to get over you. you have me wrapped around your finger and iâd do anything for you.â
you feel your heart racing, your cheeks flushed pink, and you feel like you were back in high school.
âashton, will you kiss me?â
the brown-haired boy stared at you, hazel eyes wide. his lips parted, âdid you just ask if iâd-â âkiss meâ you interrupted him. this time begging him. âpleaseâ you whispered. ashton sat up, his eyes not leaving yours once as he brought his hand to your cheek and then pressed his lips on yours ever so lightly. afraid he would hurt you in any way. his lips felt so soft against yours. pure bliss engulfed your body. this was what you imagined your kiss with ashton to be like. when he pulled away, eyes meeting with yours his cheeks were flushed. having such a huge crush on you, he never thought he would have this moment with you.
your hands on his neck, you leaned in again connecting your lips. this time this kiss was longer and more intimate. your hands tangled in his brown curls while he was resting on your lower back, occasionally pulling you in. when you pulled away, catching your breath you couldnât help but stare at him. his hand ran over your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt as the two of you watched the other, breathing each other in. ashtonâs smiles, his calloused thumb tracing your cheekbone. âyou make me complete, y/n.â
One thing that anti-Jess fans of Gilmore Girls love to say that annoys me is that Jess wasnât the best boyfriend. They think that line really ends the argument, but the thing is, theyâre right.
Of course Jess wasnât Roryâs best boyfriend, he was seventeen. He was a seventeen year old with a lot of trauma and basically no one was in his corner (except sometimes Luke and Rory). Nearly the entire town of Stars Hollow was against him, he was struggling with his identity (his dad leaving and then reappearing, his mom shipping him off). His mom was an addict, he was worrying about finances and whether or not he could graduate. He had a lot on his mind, of course he wasnât the best boyfriend.
People who hate Jess need to remember that he was literally a teenager.
Please make more parts of 'writing fan line' seriously love them!!!!!
Writing Fine Line: Cherry
A/N: Hey lovies!! I cannot thank everyone enough for all the love and support this series is getting! I love you all ⤠Which song do you wanna hear next?
P.S. I imagine Emily King's Distance (Live on KEXP) version to be how YN sings it!
Summary: YN and Harry have known each other since 2010 when they were put in a band together called One Direction. Since the band split up, YN and Harry have kept in close contact, may or may not have grown deeper feelings for one another and have continued to help each other create music. After having helped Harry with HS1, he has invited YN back again to Malibu to help make Fine Line. This was how Cherry was made. (6.5K)
Genre: harry x 1dbandmember!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn,Â
Warning: unhealthy relationship traits, lil angsty, possible typos
side note: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl
Previous Song Here! âď¸
â2018â
With the pleas from Jeff and his girlfriend, Harry finds himself attending an art gallery showing on one of his days off in Paris. The room was filled with people dressed in formal, expensive white and black fashion. People who could be less interested in the actual art itself and more of just taking snobby aesthetic looking pictures of themselves to post on their social media pages. He must admit, the fact that the gallery was right next to the French Riviera was a nice touch.Â
The couple said they would meet Harry at the event so now here he finds himself, standing by himself in a spacious white museum-esque space with various artworks among the walls. He finds peace looking at the painting in front of him. The various colors of paint look like they were spread on by some sort of knife, stretched in all different directions.
âExcusez-moi, mais ĂŞtes-vous Harry Styles?â Excuse me, but are you Harry Styles?
Harry tries not to show his discomfort at the fact that heâs barely arrived and people are already trying to get an interaction with him. He quickly racks his brain to muster all the French he knows in preparation to interact with this person. He turns around to respond to the woman behind him only to find YNâs breathtaking smile.Â
It was safe to say that the last time the two saw each other was in terms of a temporary fix during one of their many lonely periods on tour. Each desperate for the other to fulfill a need that started out platonic, turned into late night affairs and ended with chaste goodbyes. They havenât seen or heard from one another for the past couple of weeksâbeing busy with tour and jam-packed schedulesâthat it's like a weight of relief has been lifted up from both of their shoulders.
Actually, all the wind seems to get knocked out of him as Harry takes in the sight in front of him. YN has her hair naturally done, styled to stay behind her shoulders. Her arms are exposed, her tattoos that are scattered up and down her arms are fully on display. The long, black dress sheâs wearing hugs her curves in all the right places and thereâs a long slit along the side of her dress, deliciously exposing the majority of her upper thigh. He takes a mental picture of her before looking back up to her teasing smile.
âDoes this mean I can get your autograph?âÂ
Harry shakes his head at her, a playfully smirk tugging on his lips.Â
âYâcan get more than an autograph, Câmere.â YN walks into his extended arms and wraps her own around the tops of his shoulders. She takes in the familiarity of his cologne and the way a hand squeezes her hip before pulling away. âDonât you look absolutely stunning.âÂ
âYou donât look so bad yourself, Styles.â Itâs true. He adorns a black, loose fitting suit with a white tank top underneath. Sheâs quite annoyed that heâs able to pull off literally anything. Sheâs convinced he could wear a brown paper bag and make it a new fashion trend by morning.
âSo, what brings you to France? Donât tell me you were just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by.â He teases.
YN gives Harry a playful pointed look. âTour, actually. Had a show here last night. You?â
âGot one here tomorrow night.â
YN nods her head, her lips pursed to a side with a slight furrow of her eyebrows.Â
âWhatâs with the lip, huh?â Harry nearly loses it when YN breaks into another smile, her bottom lip being catched in between her teeth. He pushes the thoughts of nipping her lip himself, wanting to pull her into a long awaited and much needed kiss.
âItâs just...how did we both happen to be hereâat this event of all placesâat the same time but we didnât know the other would be here? Seems a bit serendipitous, don't yeh think?â
Jeffery. He knew, didn't he?
âWeâve just been busy with work I guess.â
YN hums in agreement. âGuess we just have a lot of catching up to do then.âÂ
Harry relishes in the sound of YNâs giggle when he extends an elbow out to her and the warmth she exudes when she wraps her hands around his bicep.
They begin to talk about everything and anything while walking around the art gallery. The couple stops at each one, sharing their thoughts on the piece before drifting back into their own off topic conversations. It was like each was trying to draw out their time together after being apart for so long, soaking up one anotherâs presence and falling back into the comfortableness of easy conversation.Â
Harry savors the way YN squeezes his arm every now and then, and the way her voice sounds when she talks about how a certain painting makes her feel.
âOh, I like this one.â YN says once theyâve stopped at the next painting. âI think this oneâs my favorite.â
âYou said that about the last one.âÂ
âYeah but I mean it with this one.â This piece has red, black, and white messily splattered paint all over the canvas.Â
The two stay silent for a second, taking in the art in front of them before Harry mutters out, âFeels angry.âÂ
âDoes it?â
âYeah. I mean look how the darkness of the black is consuming the red with all of it being splattered together. Itâs kind of like the artist was properly ticked off and just needed to throw something.â
âI see love.â Harry looks to YN as she looks at the painting, her eyes bouncing all over the piece in front of her with wonder and appreciation. He sees love, too. âLook how the red still stands out among the darkness. The splashes of red and white move together around the edges, see? How itâs practically hugging the dark middle?â YN tilts her head to the side and Harry matches her actions, trying to see her perspective of the painting.Â
âItâs passion.â YN whispers out.
âOr maybe it was hung upside down.â She looks at Harry and the two of them canât help but burst into a fit of giggles, leaning into one anotherâs touch.
"ChĂŠrie!" The two of them turn their heads to see an attractive looking man with a white turtleneck and black trench coat approach them, his arms extended out beside him in a grand gesture. "YN, my darling." Harry feels cold from YN removing herself from his side. He watches as a man takes a hold of his YNâs shoulders and kisses both of her cheeks. Harryâs jaw locks in an instant.
"James, I'd like to introduce you toâ"
"Monsieur Harry Styles." The man's thick French accent rings within the space between them. It takes all of Harry's might not to harden his stare but his patience begins to deteriorate by the second as he sees the French man slide his hand onto the bottom of YNâs back. "I cannot tell you how incredibly honored I was to hear of your arrival."Â
"The honors all mine." Harry's smile tightens as he extends a polite hand to James. YN knows that no matter how bothered Harry might be, heâd never not show the common courtesy of showing kindness to others. "Yâgot a lot of great work displayed here."
"Ah yes, I wish I could take all the credit but it is my father's work showcased tonight. Speaking of which...YN there are many people waiting to meet you.â
"Sounds lovely, ChĂŠri.â Harry can feel his blood boiling under his skin at the pet name she used for the man, a pet name that used to belong to him. âI'll be with you in just a second, I was just catching up withâ"
"Oh, there's no need.â Harry interjects. âDon't let me be the one holding you up for the night.â
"Harry.â YN gives him a pointed look.Â
âYou are more than welcome to join us, Monsieur Styles.â
"Thank you, but there are some people of my own that I need to catch up with. Excuse me.â
YN watches as Harry turns to walk in their opposite direction, her nostrils flared in knowing full well that she'd rather be in his company more than anyone elseâs. If he wasn't so stubborn from his jealousy, he'd consider how cute she looked at that moment. Her cheeks had the lightest shade of pink and her eyes had a fire behind them.Â
YN puts on a smile instead and lets James lead her away to a waiting group of people.Â
Turns out Harryâs company had arrived a lot sooner than he realized. Jeff just didnât want to interrupt the coupleâs reunion. When confronted about knowing that YN would be at the gallery tonight, Jeff just shrugged his shoulders and said âItâs basically a crime to not come to an art showing when youâre in Paris.âÂ
Harry knew his manager was lying from the smirk on his face but he could care less. What mattered to him now was keeping a watchful eye on YN as the group of his own moves around the gallery. Harryâs gaze lingers on her when she laughs at jokes one of the people in her group made, wishing he could be physically closer to her enough to hear the beautiful sound. He sees how YN puts a hand on the French manâs shoulder, moving her other hand animatedly as she tells a story. Harry canât look away from looking at her profile as the group talks about a painting the couple already reviewed.Â
But what Harry doesnât know is that when he finally finds the strength to look away, YN looks to him with the same longing.
He watches as YN says something to the group before departing from them and going through one of the glass doors that lead to the balcony. Harry doesnât pay much attention to the group heâs in as he dismissively mutters to Jeff that heâll be right back and follows where she exited.
Once heâs pushed open the door, heâs immediately encapsulated by the serenity of silence. He sees YN with her hands leaning against the stone balcony as she looks out to the riviera.Â
YN quickly straightens up at the sound of the door opening but her shoulders deflate at the sight of her best friend.
âHarry, I just,â YN sighs. âI just need a minute.â
âYou alright?" He asks, walking to stand next to her. Reading her, he knows better not to ask but decides to anyway despite his better judgment. The scoff that comes out from the back of her throat further proves his thinking.
"No, m'mot alright. Harry, you can be the most frustrating person sometimes. Acting so childish. Selfish.â
âMe?â
âYes, you! I spent practically the whole night being with you and talking to you but the second I go to talk with other people you act this way? Really?âÂ
âIt looked like you were having a great time anyways.â Harry says bitterly. âLooked perfectly fine being snuggled up against that French bloke.â
âAre you serious?â YN scoffs. She should have known heâd act this way. Part of her knows that she canât blame him because sheâd probably have acted the same way if the roles were reversed. But she doesnât want to acknowledge that or even think about Harry with somebody else. Even if heâs technically not even herâs to begin with. âMâallow to have friends other than you, Harry. Contrary to popular belief.â
âWell it certainly looked that way. Looked like you didnât need me while you seemed to be at your best.â
âOh please! You and I both know that couldnât be farther from the truth. You know that I would rather spend all my time with you than the rest of those snobby people inside.â Harry wants to dismiss and deflect from this conversation. He can be the most frustrating person? He has never met anyone more infuriating and vexing and...loving person in his life. His gaze softens and his heart immediately breaks at the sound of her voice cracking.
âMâmissed you, Harry.â YNâs eyes begin to go glossy. âBut you clearly must have not missed me from the way you pushed me away like thatââ
Harry cuts her off by bringing his hands to cup her jaw, making her look up into his eyes. âI have missed you so much you have absolutely no bloody idea.â
Their breaths begin to grow heavy in the small space between them. Harryâs thumb wipes a rogue tear that spilled its way onto her cheek and YN canât stop herself from leaning more into his touch. Theyâre so close now that one little head tilt can connect their waiting lips.
âWhatâre we doing, H?â She says, her eyelids flutter close at the feel of his breath moving down across her jaw to below her ear. His lips ghost over her sweet spot and her hands grip the open flaps of his suit coat, needing something to stabilize her.
âI dunno.â YNâs lips fall open in a small gasp as she feels him press a kiss to her neck. âBut âve missed you.â
A sigh falls from Harryâs lips at the feel of her hands running up and down his torso. He slides his hands down her sides and he grabs her hips tightly. When he brings his mouth to hers, heâs stopped by YN pressing a finger to his lips.
âNot here.â
Too overcome with his emotions, Harry almost forgot they were in a public space. A crowd full of people just on the other side of the doors.Â
Both knew how dangerous it was to be seen this way by anybody. Rumors would spread, social media would have a field day, multiple accusationsâespecially against herâand their entire world would crumble around them. On top of everything, the both of them love the privacy of their relationship and personal lives. Itâs obvious to the world that theyâve been best friends since 2010 being in One Direction together, but what was kept behind closed doors needs to remain there.Â
YN moves her hand from his jaw to the back of his neck. She canât think straight, but she knows that heâs here and that she canât bring herself to part from him; not after being away from him for so long and not after admitting that heâs missed her just as much as she did him.Â
Harry rubs his pinky over the skin thatâs exposed from the slit of her dress as he thinks of his next move.
âThen letâs get out of here, yeah?â Thereâs that smile that can bring any man to his knees.
âJust give me two seconds. I need to go tell Jamesââ
âNo.â If she mentions that name one more time, heâs going to lose it. âLetâs leave right now.â Harry says with a sly smirk on his face, tugging her hands as he begins to walk backwards towards the side exit of the balcony.Â
âMonsieur Styles.â YN teases. âYouâre really being serious right now.â
âDeadly.â Harry intertwines their fingers together, locking them together as they quickly descend down the side staircase on the side of the building. YN thinks about how much their cheeks are going to be sore the next day from smiling so much. They leave their worries along with a room full of people behind them as they headway towards Harryâs Range Rover, driving into the night towards YNâs Paris apartment.
YNâs eyes flutter open at the sound of Harry strumming a guitar. She turns her head on the pillow to see Harry sitting criss-cross on the bed so he faces the headboard. His briefs lazy tugged up his hips. His phone lays in the space in front of him, recording himself on his notes app. Harry looks up at her sleepy smile and canât help but give a soft one back.
âSorry, I didn't mean to wake you.â Harry whispers, placing a hand on her thigh above the sheets. YN hums as he rubs his thumb softly over her leg and relaxes deeper into the comforters.
âYou didnât,â YN whispers back, basking at the warmth his hand brings. âThat sounds really beautiful.â
âI was just messing around.â Harry loves the sight in front of him: his love just having woken up, the gray light of the early morning casting over her face as she looks back at him with so much love in her eyes. So much love for him. He wants to look at her forever like this. This is her naked. Not just physically, but emotionally. And he loves her so much that his heart can burst. He wishes this could be his forever but they both know itâs way too complicated than that.
âWill you play more for me?â YN says with her eyes closed.Â
A bit after Harry continues to play, YN pouts as she blindly reaches for her phone on the bedside table.Â
âWhatâre doin?â
âGotta call James. He was my ride home and heâs probably wondering where I went last night.â When she sees Harry begin to tense up, YN adds, âHe probably got too preoccupied with his boyfriend to even notice my leave.â
That makes his strumming come to a stop.
âBoyfriend?â
YN nods with a small, knowing smile, bringing her phone to her ear. âBoyfriend.â
âHuh.âÂ
YN resists the urge to roll her eyes at the man in front of her. She knows that this added bit of information eased Harry's jealousy from creeping back into his brain. Even after they spent the night indulging in one another, she knew him like the back of her hand. After four rings, she hears Jamesâs groggy morning voice come through the speaker.
âCoucou!â YN says excitedly over the phone. âTu dors? Oh, j'suis dĂŠsolĂŠe...Bah non.â She giggles sheepishly for waking her friend so early. âNan, c'est pas important...Ouais, on a ĂŠtĂŠ Ă la plage, et maintenant onââ YN makes eye contact with Harry. He raises an eyebrow in suspicion, picking up a few bits of their conversation.
YN continues to giggle under his gaze, not wanting to further spread any of their business to anyone. âTant pis...Ok ChĂŠri. Je t'aime. Bonne nuit.â
When she ends the call, YN feels a shift in the bed as Harry crawls up to rest his body above herâs.
âHave I ever told you how sexy you sound when you speak French?â Harry questions, rubbing their noses together.Â
âMaybe once or twice.â Harry canât help but nip at her bottom lip. Taking it between his teeth, pulling back to only watch it bounce back into place.
âMaybe we should go again once or twice.âÂ
YN giggles against Harryâs lips, humming at the feeling of his hands running up the length of her sides before he tugs the silk sheet off of her body.
âParfait! Allez!â
-2019-
âOnce we were in the studio it was probably the rawest I've ever been with someone on an emotional level. At the time of recording it in the studio, I already had the guitar melody but the lyrics were only partially written...â
âHey, you're in my spot.â YN smiles at Kid as she walks into the home studio in Malibu, her laptop pressed against her chest. Kid leans back in the swivel chair and smiles back at her.
âAnd to think that I was just beginning to miss working with you.â YN meets him halfway and gives him a low five that turns into a fist bump.Â
âOh stop, you love me.â She says, grabbing another swelling chair as she gets situated.
âUnfortunately.âÂ
YN places her laptop on top of the large studio console and begins setting up her editing software.Â
Harry and Mitch are on the other side of the glass window in the recording room. Harry notices her presence yet tries to not draw too much attention to his actions. This certainly doesnât go unseen by Mitch though.Â
âThink youâre developing a staring problem, dude.â Mitch says, snapping his friend out of his trance. âThought you said you guys were platonic right now.â
âWe are.â
âRight.â The guitarist drags out the word. âWhatever you say, man.â
âYou know what? I feel that this could really work between us. Itâs definitely going better than I thought it would go.â It both comforts and terrifies the ex couple that the men here know about their circumstances. It was hard enough that they were trying to figure things out for themselves that it doesnât help much when they have a looming group of close friends wanting to meddle their way into their relationship. Whatever the status of said relationship was on didnât matter. âLike yesterday, when we all sat together and wrote Golden. I dunno, it just felt right.âÂ
âSo I heard from Harry that we were going to pick up on Watermelon Sugar from like a bazillion years ago?â YN says before looking over to Kid to see him on his phone.
âWe were but there were some instrumental issues Ty and I still arenât too happy with yet so weâre gonna move on to another song H has been working on.â Kid says. âHe had sent me a voice note with it earlier today. I havenât had a chance to have a listen but I'll send it to you right now.â YN nods and looks over to where Harry is sitting on the other side of the glass window.Â
Harry and Mitch laugh at something that she canât quite hear yet it puts a smile on her face to see him happy. She knows that not being together at the moment has been hard for the both of them, especially Harry from what Mitch has been telling her. It was nice to know that they were able to keep it professional at the moment as sheâs basically an employee for Harry as a vocalist, writer and now music producer.
Harry looks away from Mitch and catches her gaze. The smile never fades from either one of their faces.
âAlright, you should have it now.â Kid says, popping the little bubble between the ex couple. Sheâs the first to break eye contact and focus her attention back to work.
âCool, I'll get it started then.âÂ
âJust so you know, Harry mentioned that there were some voices laying over the demo so...â Kid smacks his lips together. âMore work for you, hun.âÂ
âNo biggie,â YN says, searching through her messages. âI'll just work around it.â She finally has the file titled âcherry.â âWhat's up with this guy and naming his songs after fruits?â She chuckles as she opens the file.
âStyles,â Kid switches on the speaker button on the panel and YN glances at Harry as he turns his head over to look at the two of them. âWhatâs up with you and fruit, mate?â She smiles back down at her laptop as she loads the audio file to her editing program.
âEh...dunno,â Harry says with a chuckle. Before Kid can respond, YN plays the voice note bringing Harry to his feet in an instant at the sound. âYN.â
She doesn't look up from the sound of her name being called but instead furrows her eyebrows at the guitar melody being played. It sounds so familiar but she canât quite place her finger on where she heard it from.
âCoucou!âÂ
YNâs eyes instantly widen as she hears her own voice coming in through the speakers. It clicks in an instant.
âTu dors? Oh, j'suis dĂŠsolĂŠe...Bah non.â
She tears her gaze away from her screen and looks up to Harry and his sorrowful expression. It hits her that she wasnât supposed to hear this, at least the demo version. Maybe thatâs why he sent the voice note to Kid instead of her.
âNan, c'est pas important...Ouais, on a ĂŠtĂŠ Ă la plage, et maintenant onââ
YN can feel Kidâs eyes going back and forth between them but she canât seem to draw her gaze away from Harry's. Her wide eyes start to well up with tears as she remembers the intimate moment between the two of them.
Thereâs a rough cut in the audio before she hears her voice say, âParfait! Allez!â
The demo comes to an end and silence fills the recording studio. Harry stays frozen on his feet, wanting to say something, do anything that could take away the hurt YNâs feeling right now.
âIâm sorry, YN. I should have listened to the demo before I gave it to you. I think I was supposed to remaster it be-â Kidâs ramble is cut short by YN shaking her head.
âNo, it uh, it's fine.â It takes everything in her to break away from Harry's intense stare and look at Kid. âIâll uh get started on figuring out the rest of the instrumental and then weâll go from there.â She quickly wipes away the rouge tears that have escaped her eyes. She hates that Iâm crying, that sheâs getting emotional. Itâs utterly embarrassing but she needs to be professional. She needs to do her job, thatâs why she was brought here.
YN clears her throat before looking over at Mitch whoâs still standing next to Harry. âCan you come help me with that please?â
Mitch nods quickly and places his hand on Harry's shoulder before leaving the recording room.
âIâll just-â kid points over to Harry before getting up from his seat to leave. YN just nods her head and begins to fidget with the rings on her fingers. Mitch and Kid meet each other passing through the door and give each other a worried look. She looks back at the panel in front of her and switches off the speaker button.
âI wanted to be true to [the breakup]. I wanted it to be true to how I was feeling then, in that moment. It was all part of being more open and not like, âI donât care.â You get petty when somethingâs not going the way that you want, and âCherry' is pathetic in a way.â Harry's index finger rubs under his nose as he tries to hide his sniffle.
Three knocks on the doorframe of the recording room making Harry perk up. YN stands there with her arms crossed comfortably under her chest and a smile that doesnât quite meet her eyes. âHey, you.âÂ
âYN, hey.â Harry had a couple of hours to think about what to say to her as she and Mitched worked together. His speech seems to be thrown out the window as all he can think of saying is, âIâm really sorry for all thatââ
âYou donât have to apologize, H. I knew you would make that melody into a song sooner than later. It really is beautiful.â
âAre you not upset?â In all honesty, it did hurt. But thanks to Mitch, she started to think about how a relationship takes two people. Harry and YNâs relationship has grown complicated since their trip to Jamaica. Itâs grown confusing and the two of them donât seem to have any healthy boundaries when it comes to one another. Even if itâs not in the romantic senseâthatâs a whole different conversation for a different dayâthereâs no denying that they love each other. They will always be there for one another, drop everything for the other person if need be.
âAt first? But who am I to blame you for what happened? For wanting to write from a personal place? Weâve both done it before. MâJust glad you cut out the more...intimate part of that voice memo before the others could hear it.â YN forces out a soft chuckle.
Harry looks down at his fingers playing with the wires from his headphones with a scoff in disbelief. âDunno how youâre real.â
âBut thereâs something else still bothering you.â YNâs eyebrows furrow sadly at seeing her best friend release a heavy sigh. âTell me.âÂ
âI just feel a lot of pressure. Like I should be making these big songs that should be playing on the radio. I have all of these ideas of records I want to make in the next 5 years or 10 years but itâs just...I dunno.â
âItâs pressure, H.â Harry runs a hand over his stressed face. âAnd while pressure can be good, it can be damaging too.â
âSo Iâm screwed if I do and screwed if I donât.â Harry lets out a sad chuckle.
âHey,â YN walks up to him and he ignores the tingling feeling he gets when the tops of her thighs touch his knees from their close proximity. This doesnât seem promising as she gently grabs a hold of his chin. âYou canât beat yourself over this, alright? Youâre way too good of an artist to do that. You have to block out the world and make the record that you wanna make right now. Thatâs it.â
âYâmake it sound so easy, lovie.â Harry sighs, taking her hand from his face to intertwine his fingers with hers.Â
âIt can be. Just write from your heart, yeah? As cheesy as that sounds.â Harry huffs and nods to his best friend, her words of encouragement simmering into his chest. âAnd if you donât mind, I think Iâll sit this one out. Mâsorry I know you hired and brought me here to help youâand I totally will if you need meââ
âYN, yeah I hired you again because youâre super talented but I also brought you here because I wanted you here. You donât have to do anything you donât feel comfortable doing. Alright?â Even when YN sadly nods, he wonders how she can still look absolutely breathtaking. A part of him feels dejected at the fact that she wonât be in the studio helping him write; theyâve been doing it for years on end. Yet, a part of him feels some relief in being able to express some of his inner feelings about that night in Paris in the best way he knows how.Â
âNow go write some sad stuff.â Harry snorts at her comment and the irony of her already knows whatâs racking through his mind. âIâm heading off to bed. Sâbeen a long day. See you in the morning?â
âIn the morning.â He repeats. With that, Harry feels her give his hand a final squeeze before he watches her back as she walks out the recording room. Once YN has rounded the corner in the empty hallway, she leans back against the wall and releases a breath she didnât know she was holding.
âI think everyone has a âpatheticâ song. Iâve definitely had my fair share in writing a song or two about stuff like this. And it's not that the song itself is rubbish, itâs the way you feel after a break up that feels pathetic when you look back at it. Itâs just...â YN begins to fidget with her rings on her fingers. âWeird? If that's the right word, seeing yourâjust someone who you care deeply for be on the other end of the stick.â
The next day, Harry and some of his crew members are working in the home studio while YN spends some time outside in the huge backyard. Sheâs decided to take her own advice and write about her feelings; both about their time in Paris and how sheâs currently feeling.
YN sits criss-crossed on a blanket, basking in the Summer sun and strumming her acoustic guitar as she sings.Â
âHey love, time to get up, I think you've been sleeping too long. My day started when you were still yawning.â YN reminisces on the overcast morning in Paris, waking up to Harryâs strumming.
âOne room just ain't enough when it's two folks trying to get along. But it's hard to leave you alone.â It felt so scary yet exhilarating to have set up a boundary with Harry the night before. Even if it was just one so far, itâs still a step in the right direction.Â
âOh, love is always better when we take time to get back to who we are. When we are apart, distance makes the heart grow. Even when I'm lonely, happy knowing that your love is never far. When we are apart, distance makes the,â YN continues to sing. Even though itâs going to hurt her, the both of them really, but their love is only going to grow stronger this way.Â
âIt makes the leaves on the trees fall. Makes the hours in the day long. Makes me want to clear my head, find a little cafĂŠ and write the words to a song.â She scribbles down her lyrics in her journal, quickly wanting to pluck the chords again to get back into her groove.
âAnd I know that I'm still free. Be anywhere that I wanna be,â YN smirks to herself as she remembers how Harry initially looked at her when they reunited in Paris. âMaybe get dressed up, wear something real pretty that you ain't never seen.â
YN jots down her new lyrics in her journal when she hears footsteps approaching from the porch behind her. Harry plops down next to her on the blanket, laying on his back with his hands behind his head.
âI needed this,â He sighs. âBeen in that studio for hours.â
âFinish the song?â YN asks, turning her head to look at Harryâs relaxed state. His eyes are closed as he takes in the Californian warmth. Itâs one of their favorite things about coming here or really any place that has hot Summers. She especially loves going to Italy with him. Itâs the place where he gets the most tanned, leaving his chest bare whenever he has the chanceâboundaries, YN.Â
âNot yet. Still feels like it needs somethinâ just donât know what.â Harry inhales deeply. âBut donât wanna think about it right now. Whatâve you been up to? Anything good?â
âWouldnât you like to know.â
âWould you play some for me?âÂ
YN lets out a long hum in contemplation. Harry opens one eye to look at her. âCome on,â He teases, âIâll show you mine if you show me yours.â He lets out a laugh when YN hits his side with her journal.
âYeh such a boy sometimes.â She sits her guitar down and lays down next to Harry.Â
âIs that a no?â
âDepends.â
âOn?â
âIf itâs good enough to sell.â YN started to write her own songs and sell them to other artists for a couple of years now. She finds it cathartic: being able to vent and figure out her feelings through making music before letting it go out into the world.
âThen Iâll be hearing it soon. Whether that be from you or on the radio.â YN tries to keep the smile from tugging on her lips. It brings a warm feeling in her chest to hear someone support her in the way that he does. Itâs crazy how quickly she can feel at ease when heâs near her. She wants to hold onto these moments a little while longer before the world, work, and the rest of reality begins to rear its big, ugly head into her life again.Â
When she looks over to him, she finds that heâs already looking at her. There she goes again, he thinks. Being as golden as ever.
âYouâre going to burn a hole through my head if you keep staring at me all the time.â YN teases. Even with the warm light cascading over his face, she can still see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. Turns out he wasnât being as discreet as he thought he was.
âI-I mean, I didnât meanââ His stuttering gets cut off by her giggles. He canât help but give her a sheepish smile. âWell can yeh blame me?â
âYouâre such a sap.â YN pokes one of his dimples before sitting up and nodding her head towards the house. âCome on. Letâs get to work.â
âBut weâre relaxing.â He whines out when she takes a hold of his hands, tugging him up into a sitting position.
âCanât relax with the sound of those gears turning in your head.â Once theyâre both on their feet, Harry helps gather her things before heading inside.Â
âYâsure you want to help? Thereâs no pressure, lovie.â He tells YN once theyâve stopped outside the door of the home studio.Â
âI wouldnât have offered if I didnât want to, yeah?â YN feels like sheâs in a much better headspace than last night. Especially after her mini self-writing session.Â
So here she finds herself sitting in the same chair she was in yesterday. Harryâs other producers, Kid and Tyler, sit beside her in front of the huge studio console. Mitch and Jeff sit on the couch behind them. Harry stands off to the side, one arm across his chest while his other hand plays with his bottom lip, anxiously watching YN for her reaction as the song plays through the speakers.
Don't you call him baby.
We're not talking lately.
Don't you call him what you used to call me.
YN is immediately transported back to the art gallery in Paris. Sheâs meeting Jamesâs parents and his boyfriend. Her eyes spot a head full of familiar curls across the room before politely excusing herself from the group.
I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best
I'm selfish so I'm hating it.
YN remembers pushing through the glass doors to the balcony. The sky is dark and the moon casades its light over the riviera. She invites the cool breeze against her skin. Itâs a nice contrast from the suffocating room. She misses him.
Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?
She sees the red, white, and black splatter painting. The love and passion of it allâthe painting, Paris, Harry, their complicated relationshipâscreaming in her face.
âAny ideas?â Kidâs the first to speak up. Itâs a beautiful song. Painful and captivating all at the same time. And yet, even with Harryâs heart-breaking yelling at the end of the song, it can still use something...
âHow vulnerable are you willing to go with this song?â YN finally looks up at Harry.
âVery. Why? What do you have in mind?â
âI think you should add in the voice memo.â The men look at her with shock, clearly not expecting that answer.
âYouâre okay with that?â Mitch says from his spot on the couch.
âI am. We could distort my voice enough so it can be unrecognizable. But itâs still up to you. Itâs just an idea.â
âWhat do you say, Boss?â Tyler spins in his seat to look at Harry. Everyone is.Â
You have to block out the world and make the record that you wanna make right now. Thatâs it. YNâs words from last night ring through his head. He gives her a look, silently asking for approval. When she gives him a reassuring nod, thatâs all he needs.
A/N: thank you lovies for all your support. i can't express to you all how much i love and appreciate you so much!! đ
SUMMARY: YN and Harry have known each other since 2010 when they were put in a band together called One Direction. Since the band split up, YN and Harry have kept in close contact, may or may not have grown deeper feelings for one another and have continued to help each other create music. After having helped Harry with HS1, he has invited YN back again to Malibu to help make Fine Line. This was how Fine Line was made. (5.2K)
GENRE: harry x 1dbandmember!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn
WARNING: lil angsty, questionable relationship traits
side note: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary)Â
MASTERLIST Previous Song đš
â2018â
Theyâve been teasing each other all night. The short skirt she wore was already getting Harry excited by how it easily swayed every time she walked. Before the show as YN walked with him backstage, she made sure to give him a longer, slower kiss than usual. In return, he made sure to perform a little extra tonight: grinding on his microphone stand slower than usual, running his hands down his body more often, and always sending a smirk her way on the sidelines.Â
The adrenaline that was running through his veins once he was off the stage only spiked up higher as they ran hand in hand to his dressing room.Â
Itâs been like this for the past two years, this on and off, borderline friends-with-benefits-relationship between them. Hiding behind closed doors lies more than just the Harry Styles and YN LN persona that the world likes to perceive.Â
Itâs where the media donât get to see the way his mouth clings to hers as he presses her up against the dressing room door. Or the way her fingers tug on the roots of his hair as he kneels in front of her after lifting her onto the vanity, and rips her panties from her hips to dive into her. Or how all of the items of the desk shake and topple over once heâs inside her. And they certainly donât get to see his ring-covered hand over her mouth, his teeth biting at the skin of his knuckles there, as they both come undone.
âHey, um, wanna go take a shower with me? Save some water or however that sayinâ goes.â Harry huffs out a chuckle after buttoning up his blue trousers. He waits anxiously for her answer as he watches her fix her hair in the mirror her back was pressed up against not even three minutes ago.
Ready to dismiss her pre-planned schedule, she looks at him through the mirror and gives him a cheeky smile. âI would actuallyââÂ
Three loud knocks on the dressing room door and Jeffâs voice comes out all muffled.
âWrap it up, Love Birds! Time to head out!â
âDuty calls.â YN says with a small chuckle, making no move to actually leave her spot. She knew she needed to leave a bit earlier than usual due to having to prepare for her own show the next nightâhence a quickie rather than heading back to his hotel room for the whole nightâbut now that sheâs being told to so, she just wants Harry to hold her tight and hide them away from the rest of the world.
In a lot of ways, itâs like nothingâs changed since their One Direction days. Being pulled away before anything serious would happen, using their busy schedules as an excuse to not get the chance to fully say anything that they wanted to.
YN sees the way he hasnât made any move to leave either, still playing with the glittery cuff of his suit jacket.Â
âStill coming to the show tomorrow night?â She asks, putting a hand over his fidgety ones like he always does with her.
âCourse.â He gives her a smile that doesnât meet his eyes as he tries his hardest to not show her how bothered he is. He should truly know better than trying to hide behind a smile in front of her, but he knows she has tells too. By her not teasing him about the front heâs putting up lets him know sheâs crouching behind her own brick wall too.Â
And like every goodbye since Jamaica, they share a quick kiss before reluctantly forcing themselves to part ways. He truly doesnât think twice about cupping her jaw to keep her there, turning his head to deepen the kiss. Unlike it was five minutes ago, this kiss isnât rushed or filled with lust. Instead of pulling on the damp curls on the nape of his neck, her hands rest gently on his hips, thumbs rubbing on the stubborn squishy part of his hip bones. Instead of his fingers encircling around her neck, they softly caress her cheeks.
Sex seemed like the only possible way to have YN as close as he could, as he wanted it, as a means to pretend to live in a world where theyâre an official couple.
Three more loud knocks ring from outside the dressing room door break their passionate kiss.Â
âYN, itâs time to go!â Jenny, her manager, yells. âDonât make me pull you out of there myself.â
âHey, weâre alright yeah?âÂ
And thatâs how it always goes. Whether it be a late night together in a hotel room or a quickie after a show like this, when itâs time to leave each other YN never fails to reassure him that everything is good between them. While it can be a relief to know that despite the back and forth of their romantic relationship they can still hold that closeness of friendship.Â
But what has him feeling broken is the fact that she reminds him of that. That no matter how on and off they go from being friends to something more, there is never a moment where they officially cross the fine line of friendship. They stay floating there, never drifting too far off one end to ever put a label on anything.
She uses it as a means of reassurance. So Harry uses this line after these times to convince himself that theyâll be alright for now.
âAlways.â He huffs out a smile. He knows she can see right through him but heâs thankful she doesnât have time to call him out on it.
Now as he watches her exit his dressing room, he repeats her infamous phrase between them to himself.Â
âYeah, weâll be alright.â
â2019â
Harry shakes a towel through his hair as he walks from the backyard beach to the kitchen. After last night's anticsâand a couple of drinks laterâsleep was in no way a possibility. He had spent all afternoon in the water like she would do in the mornings.
Was it a pathetic way to feel some part of her still there? Maybe.Â
Did it make him even sadder than he was before? Possibly.
The whole day was just a big mess. When he got in the recording booth, his vocals were all over the place. He couldnât remember the chords to Falling and started to get frustrated when no one else couldnât figure it out. And when he tried to move on to a different song, he still couldnât figure out what Watermelon Sugar needed.
âWhaâs going?â Harry questions as he watches his production team chatting away as they file out the front door.
âCome on, get dressed.â Mitch says, quickly tucking his phone into his back pocket. âEveryoneâs gonna head out to that restaurant thatâs on the way up here for dinner.â
âMâgood mate. Have fun.â
âYou donât wanna come with? Itâll do you so good, man.â Mitch tries to persuade him but only receives a sad shake of his friendâs head.
âMâgonna go work on the album some more. Thereâs a couple of things I wanna add and fix and all that so...â
Harry can feel that his friend has some hesitancy with leaving and almost wants to reassure Mitch with the classic Iâm fine line that everyone knows means the opposite. But he internally releases a sigh of relief when Mitch eventually does leave.
Once he hears the car start and back out the driveway, he tries not to think about how familiar it sounded the night before. Dragging his feet down the hall towards his room, he pauses right outside the room she inhabited during her stay. Heâs lost count of the amount of times heâs been standing in this similar position: their stay in Jamaica, her dressing room at the venue sheâs performing at, hotel rooms, her yellow house door.Â
Always just one door away from being with her, from being home.
Heâs about to pull himself away from his spot at the door but he hears some rustling from inside.
Harry pushes the door open the rest of the way to find an empty room and sees nothing that looks out of the ordinary. He thinks he might just need some sleep to help shake off some of the nerves. Especially when he sees YN come out of the connected bathroom, shoving her toiletries in the duffle bag in her hand. Or when she looks up at him with those tantalizing eyes that manage to take his breath away every single time. The same eyes that are now puffy and dark from lack of sleep or crying, probably both. No doubt his look the same. Yeah, he must be dreaming.
âMitch told me you werenât gonna be here.â YN wrings out a t-shirt in her hands, now looking everywhere but his eyes. âSorry, Iâll be out of your hair in a sec. Came to get my things.â
He doesnât say anything, he wants to more than anything but he canât seem to get the words out. So instead, he just watches as the woman in front of him moves around the room as she gathers her clothes.
He doesnât mean to pick a fight with her. Honestly, heâs just happy to be in the same room as her again even if she wants absolutely nothing to do with him right now. So he truly doesnât know why the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, âDid I not mean anything to you?â
She scoffs, not even looking up at him as she shakes her head. âMânot gonna answer that.â When sheâs met with his silence and lifts her head up to see how uneasy he looks, she canât help but roll her eyes. âThatâs a stupid question and you know it. Of course I do. Harry, you...â YN closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in to try to calm herself from raising her voice. âYou mean so much to me.â
âIf I mean so much to you then why didnât you tell me how you felt? Why didnât you say anything?â
âWhy didnât you?â She snaps back, forcefully throwing a pair of shorts into her bag as sheâs already getting flustered from being in the same room as him. âYâknow what? Nevermind, I donât wanna start whatever this isââ YN waves her hands in front of her, ââup again.â
âAnd what exactly is this? Because it sure as hell isnât just a friendship and itâs clearly not an official relationship either.â Harry runs a frustrated hand down his face when she purposefully ignores him and continues to go about the room. Itâs in these moments where he canât decide whether her stubbornness is his favorite or the most frustrating thing about her.
He knows that she can leave any time she wants, that heâll move out of the way and let her walk out the front door if she told him to. So thereâs an odd sense of relief knowing that even after sheâs zipped up her duffel, she hasnât moved from her spot next to the bed and continues to avoid his gaze. So he takes the opportunity to say whatâs been on his mind for a while now.
âYâknow, Iâll be strong enough to admit that yeah, I was taking advantage of you. Having you here with me, making music with you, being physically and emotionally close to you as we were without putting a label on anything. It wasnât fair to you, but it wasnât fair to me either.â He walks over to where she faces the sliding glass doors in the bedroom, looking out to the sun set above the sea line. âYN, youâre my best friendââ
âNo, not this again.â YN turns to face him with a sharp tone. âHarry enoughââ
âMaybe if you just listened to meââ
âI donât want to listen to youââ
âWhy do you always have to be so stubborn!â
âI donât want to keep going in this cycle with you!â
âI thought you moved on!â
âDoes it look like Iâve bloody moved on?â YN lets out a dry laugh.Â
âI loveââ
âNo. I know what yâgoing say and donât. Please donât say it.â She begs, her voice cracking at the end.
Normally he would respect and honor her plea, especially when her glossy eyes flicker back and forth between his. But he canât hold it back anymore, he canât keep it locked inside of him any longer when the words are busting his heart seams open.Â
âNo, I will say it. I love you. I love everything about you. And Iâm going to keep saying it until it gets through that stubborn, little head of yours.â Theyâre so close to each other now that they can feel each otherâs breath fan over their lips. âI love you, YN.â
Without giving himself time to think about it, he cups her jaw in his hand and presses his mouth to hers. Heâs missed her so much and the way her lips taste are intoxicating. It isnât until he feels her hands push against his chest that he takes a step back, both slightly out of breath.
He canât make out her emotions, her lips parted and eyes wide in an unreadable way. Judging by her silence and the fact that she pushed him away, he knows heâs messed up and possibly made things even worse.
âSorry. Sorry I shouldnât haveââ He gets cut off by YN gripping the back of his neck, pulling him down to her level to reconnect their lips and pressing her body so close to his that there is no room left between them.Â
Harry furrows his eyebrows as he pants into his mouth, already getting unbelievably lost in her. He wastes no time by bending down into her to grip the backs of her thighs, lifting her off the ground to lay them both on the bed.
With every hair pull, every nail digging into their skin, every kiss and gasp is filled with a type of love that can only be expressed by their suppressed emotions finally being released into the open.Â
So when Harry finally presses into her, leaving them moaning out into one anotherâs skin, they know its intentions are not out of a place of lust or a quick need for a release, but out of something both of them longed for and practically dreamt of doing with one another. Something only reserved for the one you plan to spend the rest of your life with.Â
Itâs not merely sex; YN can feel that it's something more when she doesnât feel the need to tell him to go faster because the slow movement of his hips are blissfully enough. Or to even think about loosening her hold on his back because having him chest to chest with her, having him so close to her, is something she wants to feel forever.
She knows itâs something way beyond anything sheâs ever felt before because it has her whispering out the words that have been locked away in her heart since she was sixteen.
âI-I love you.â
Harry stops all of his movements. He lifts his head from the crook of her neck and pants as he looks down at her wide, scared eyes. YN is both paralized in fear and feels an unbelievably heavy weight being lifted from her chest. Sheâs said these three little words to him countless times throughout her years of knowing him, but this time, itâs been said in a way that feels both foreign and like sheâs been saying it her entire life. Never has she ever meant them in this context, never have the words ever perfectly described what she feels for her best friend.Â
She internally begins to panic when he hasnât said anything yet, not even so much as moved an inch from his position above her. She thinks she might have done something wrong but then he slowly builds his pace back up, going faster than he was before.Â
âAgain.â He rasps out.
YN gasps, suddenly at a loss for words. The feeling of him against her with her true feelings finally out in the open has her arching her back up, rolling her eyes back and squeezing them shut in pleasure. That is until he grips her jaw roughly in his hand, making her look into his hazy jade eyes, âTell me again.â
âI love you.â She quickly pants out. âI love you, Harry. So much.â Her words get muffled by him bringing his mouth to hers, swallowing down all her moans and whimpers.
He immediately repeats the words back to her and itâs a broken record, declaring their love for one another over and over again as they continue to get lost in each other.
...
Harry stirs around on his stomach with his cheek pressed against the pillow. He takes in a deep breath in through his nose as he starts to wake up from his sleepy state of mind. The blinding light coming in from the sliding glass doors let him know that the day has begun itself again.
When his left hand aimlessly moves to the other side of the bed and feels its emptiness, he quickly moves his head in that direction in confusion. He almost begins to panic but is immediately soothed over by the sound of the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar.
âHey.â YN whispers, pressing the button on her phone to stop recording her voice memo.
âWell this is some reverse deja vu shit.â Harry says, bringing a soft smile to both of their faces as they remember their time in Paris the previous year and what would later turn out to be Cherry.
âJust doing what we do best.â YN sighs, resting her guitar against the bedside table. She lets him pull her back down to him until his body is practically on top of hers.
âAnd whatâs that? Mhm?â He hums, brushing his nose against her cheek so he can kiss her jaw.
âMaking songs about our fucked up situation.â
âOh, is that what this is?â
âHarry?â He lifts his head to fully face her worried expression. âWhat happened to us?â
Heâs a little taken back by her question. He knew that they would have to talk about their current situation eventually, but her question goes farther back than he would like to admit. He would like to say that life happened, they grew up, or just fully put the blame on their management. And for the first time in a long time, no matter how scared he is, he tells her the truth.
âI fell in love with you and never told you about it. I felt like, every time I was with you or wanted to tell you to be mine, I paniced.â
âAnd Iâm as much to blame for pulling myself out of our relationships. Or whatever we were at the time.â YN avoids looking at her love in the eyes and plays with the chain around his neck. âI just...Iâve never really cared about anyone in the way I do with you. And I started to think about that cheesy saying âif you love someone, let âem go,â and when I started to picture my life without you in it, it scared me.â She whispers her last words. YN tucks her lips in as her eyes get glossy again.
âIt scares me, too.â He reassures her. Even if she didnât reciprocate his love for her, he would gladly suck it up, put on a smile and be the friend she needed. Hell, heâs been doing it for almost a decade at this point.
âBut...weâre alright now, right?â
âDon't ever say that to me again.â Harry chuckles, knuckling the sleep away from his eyes. When heâs met with a confused furrow of her eyebrows, it occurs to him that she doesnât know what that phrase has done to him. He nervously clears his throat, âWell, whenever we finished having sex during our on and off phases, you would always say that. That thing of âweâll be alrightâ no matter what. And while it was nice to know that through everything our friendship wasnât ruined, it made me feel like you were okay with us not being officially together. Like you were okay being fuck buddies and nothing more when...when I wanted more.â
âIâve always wanted more, too. I just was too chicken to say anythinâ because I...I dunno. I thought you didnât want thaâ too.â
âCouldnât be farther from the truth.â Harry seals his statement with a kiss and literally melts when she keeps him to her with her soft hands to his cheeks.
âGive me a reason to fall out of love with you.â YN mumbles against his lips.
âI can give you a million.â
âIs this healthy?â
âProbably not. But loving you, and now knowing that you love me in the same way I do you, gives me so much life.â
âHow âbout we just take things slow this time?â YN nervously suggests. âWeâve always gone in feet first with this kind of stuff and look what happened.â They both let out a light chuckle as they both come to realize the truth behind her words. After leaving their old management and too caught up in the excitement of it all, they went into this romantic relationship with one another that they didnât even discuss what one another wanted. They knew they wanted each otherâand while at the time that seemed like enoughâthey both failed to realize how they were in a position to fully devote themselves to one another so much to the point where it scared them enough to pull themselves from the relationship and lose who they are as individuals.
âSlow is good.â Harry agrees.
âSo...now weâre really alright. Alright?âÂ
âAlright.â Harry echoes with a smile, bringing his lips down to hers again.
âAlriââ She giggles against his mouth but it turns into a soft sigh when Harry lays them on their sides, a hand gripping the back of her thigh to wrap around his hip.
âDid you Love Birds finally kiss and makeâwoah!â Harry quickly throws his body on top of YNâs, pulling up the sheets to cover as much of her as he can; he could care less about himself.
âFuckinâ hell, Jeffery!â Harry yells at his manager who now has his hand over his eyes. All the while YN is laughing into the crook of his neck.
âOh shit, sorry! Sorry! But Iâm happy you guys made up.â Jeff gives a blind thumbs up and stumbles his way out of the room, slamming the door behind him. âMitch, you bitch whyâd you let me go in there!â
The couple can barely make out Mitchâs causal, âI didnât know theyâd be fucking naked,â muffled through the door.Â
The couple slightly jumps when more knocks and whistles sound through the other side of the door before hearing the other producers shouting, âGood to have yeh back, YN!â
Harry drops his head on her shoulder with a groan while YN lets out a string of giggles.Â
âCome on, letâs get to work.â She pushes at his shoulder to try to get him up but it just makes him let his full body weight on her.
âReally? Mânaked on top of yeh and yâwanna start working?â
âReally?â YN mocks back with a sassy shake of her head against the pillow. âOur co-workers just walked in on us and you still wanna stay in here?â
âEh, so what? They already know.â He playfully shrugs and goes in for a kiss only to be met with her hand.
âNuh uh. Nope. Mânot doing that.â YN giggles, trying to keep his face from hers.
âJust a quickie.â He teases, hands moving to her sides to wiggle his fingers in her ticklish spot just to make her laugh.
So far itâs been a busy few days. Since getting back on the team, there were a lot of things that needed to get done. It was all a game of catch up at this point: add some finishing touches on To Be So Lonely, officially recording and producing Falling, and now onto start working on the song Fine Line.Â
YN sits on the electric piano bench inside the recording room. One side of the big studio headphones is pushed back behind her ear. After finishing up her bit with Falling, she tilts her head as an idea comes to mind.
As she waits to do another take, she mindlessly presses her fingers against the keys while she hums out the melody thatâs in her head. She plays each note with careful thought as she tries to figure out a new melody. This same melody would later be replicated over various stringed and brass instruments.Â
âIt started simple with an acoustic guitar YN had and it had a very mellow melody to it that the song begins with. but I wanted to have this big epic outro thing. And it just took shape as this thing where I thought, âThatâs just like the music I want to make.â I love strings, I love horns, I love harmonies â so why donât we just put all of that in there?
The team sits in the living room while they all have lunch. YN sits criss-cross on the floor in front of the couch in between Harryâs legs as she rhythmically strums her guitar to the melody she was playing the morning after making up with Harry. Itâs been stuck in her head ever since her and Harry were able to put some lyrics down on paper.Â
Put a price on emotion, I'm looking for something to buy
You've got my devotion but man, I can hate you sometimes
I don't want to fight you
And I don't wanna sleep in the dirt
We'll get the drinks in so I'll get to thinking of her
We'll be a fine lineÂ
Since the house was scattered with instruments lying around, Tyler sets down his plate on the floor and plugs in a Casio piano. After wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans, his fingers play the slow melody she did earlier that day.
Test of my patience, There's things that we'll never know
Having helped Harry write the song earlier, she canât help but join in and sing along to her shared words and emotions.
You sunshine, you temptress, My hand's at risk, I fold
She canât help her eyes close, furrowing her eyebrows as she sings from a vulnerable place.
Crisp trepidation, I'll try to shake this soon
Spreading you open, Is the only way of knowing you
We'll be a fine line
The couple sings the line over and over again, being reminded of how much they went back and forth, on and off, over and over again to the point of losing track of themselves.
Soon enough, Mitch stands up from his spot on the single couch, plugs in one of electric guitars he brought with him to an amp in the corner of the room and begins to riff some melodies that go well with hers.
âIt was always gonna be the last song on the album.â Harry nods to himself. âIt felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.âÂ
âA girl loves her harmonies, what can I say,â YN smirks at the camera. âAnd once H explained to me what he envisioned for the song to sound like vocally, he really just let me have fun with it. And you know I give him shit for it but his falsetto is just really good. Truly.â
Harry sits in the swiveling chair next to YNâs in the studio. Sheâs scrolling through the many stacked layers of all the harmonies he just recorded. He points out a couple that he likes and some he wants to tweak.Â
He had mentioned to her how all of the layered harmonies is kind of like a reflection of how many layers their relationship has. Thereâs too much context to just look at where they are now and make a sound decision of what their relationship entails. Their history is long, complicated, but overall full of love.
Harry even suggested having her get in the recording booth to record a couple of harmonies for the weâll be alright section of the song since it basically became her trademark.
âI had said to her earlier how this song is basically her baby in the way she arranged all of the harmonies together. Other than Watermelon Sugar, this was one of the songs that took a while to finish but the end result is insane. Itâs one of my favoritesâno I think it is my favorite off the album.â Harry chuckles.
After having a demo version of the various horns and string elements done through a sound effect setting on an electric piano, thereâs really no way to describe how it feels to actually hear it live through professional musicians.
Harry has his arm lazily over YNâs shoulder as they stand on the other side of the glass window in the recording studio. As the rest of the production crew is scattered around the room, Sammy Witte, their sound engineer, moves the various sliders around the huge panel in front of him.Â
She wipes a happy tear from her cheek before tucking it back into her crossed arms again. The making of this song has been an overwhelming process; from how the song came to be through its meaning, her and Harry still testing out the waters for the future of their romantic relationship status, actually figuring out their emotions through song making, to finally seeing it come into fruition.
Harry notices it and decides not to call her out on it. Instead, he just pulls her in a little closer to his side and a smile tugs on his lips when she wraps an arm around his back.
âSo what does it mean to be a fine line?â
YN blows out a raspberry as she adjusts herself in her seat, trying to not make her glance at Harry whoâs sitting on the sideline be anything more than subtle. âI mean, my whole philosophy of making music is that itâs really open for interpretation. But I know thatâs not the answer yâall wanna hear so I think the song is about how thereâs that line between friendship and being something more, right? And youâve never had the guts to officially cross over it but youâre also not just friends. So being a fine line is being the exception, I think. Yeah.â YN ends with a chuckle, well aware of how her answer is going to be perceived.Â
But how can she care about any of the consequences when the love of her life is looking at her with a soft smile on his face.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Summary: Y/N won the contest of a lifetime, leading to an unbelievable experience attending the One Night Only in NY concert with Harry Styles.
*inspired by Brittany Broski taking over the HSHQ Instagram page
A/N: It isn't proofread, I wanted to get it out asap. Just a little detour from my EWTNC series, with a big thanks to @runway-to-my-aid for this awesome idea!
Warning: Some language
~~~~~
"No way! No fucking way!... Sorry⌠this is amazing! I can't believe it!"
"Y/N, believe it, you have won the contest!" The radio dj announces. "Not only are you going to the 'One Night Only' concert in New York, but you are also taking over the HSHQ Instagram for the day!"
This isn't real, this isn't real!
"How do you feel, love?" He asks.
"Like I'm dreaming! I'm so excited!" You reply.
"I'm excited for you! Stay on the line, and we will give you all the details. Enjoy your night tomorrow!"
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
You stay on the call- finding out where you will go to get the tickets and meet the HSHQ team member who will be helping you 'run' the page.
~~~~~
Tonight is the night and you still feel like you're dreaming. You're a nobody, from nowhere, and just entered a contest. Now you get to see Harry Styles perform! Plus, help post some stories to his other Instagram page!
Life isn't real right now. It can't get much better.
You made sure you wore a cute, but comfortable, outfit and head out the door. You'll be getting to the UBS Arena early to meet the team member, go over the ideas they have, and film a few little clips before the show.
As you arrive in the Uber, you can see and hear the excitement of all the fans waiting to get in. You almost missed this. You weren't originally able to get a ticket, and you are so grateful to now have this amazing opportunity.
You find where you need to go and meet the team member, Timothy, to go over the logistics of what tonight will look like.
You walk over to a spot in front of the arena doors to do your first Instagram story.
"Hi everyone! My name is Y/N and tonight I am taking over the HSHQ Instagram page to give you a behind-the-scenes look of the 'One Night Only' show here in New York! Let's go!"
"That was great." Said Timothy. "Let's go inside and get some shots of the venue while it's empty."
"Are you serious?" You ask, hardly able to control your excitement.
"Yeah! You're giving a behind-the-scenes look sweetie, so you've got to go⌠behind the scenes!" He chuckles.
You shake your head, still not fully grasping the luck you've had already.
You walk inside the doors and he leads you around the entryway to the merch store.
"Oh wow! These are sweet!" You exclaim, eyes being diverted as you look at each new sweater and hat that'll be available tonight.
"I feel so sneaky, but I'm at the merch store and I want to show you some of the goodies we can get tonight!"
You hold up a new blue hoodie for a boomerang clip to post.
"Another good one, Y/N. You're a natural at this." Timothy states.
You laugh. "I think I've tapped into some sort of autopilot, because I'm screaming on the inside!"
He laughs too. "You'd never know. Let me take you somewhere I think the fans would like."
You walk in the auditorium and gasp. You're getting the first look at what you'll be seeing tonight and you are taken aback.
"It's breathtaking!" You exclaim. "What if we show⌠if it's okay⌠a view from the stage? That way fans will still be surprised by the backdrop."
"That's a perfect plan! Builds the suspense too." Timothy agrees.
"Take a look at the view from stage! I can't wait for tonight! Where are you going to be singing from?"
Timothy scans as much of the venue as he can without giving anything else away.
"I think that's good. We've got a little bit of time left before start letting people in." He says as he looks at his watch. "I'm thinking we can do something for the fans."
'The fans', as if you aren't one of them, freaking out right now like every single person waiting in line.
You follow him outside and head over to an area where there are people just waiting around and hanging out.
"Here. Find a small group of about four that are not in line. Ask them questions like where they are from and what their favorite new song is, or something like that." He smiles. "We've got a surprise for a few of them."
You walk around, wishing you could pick every single one for whatever Timothy has in store for them. You see a group of two young girls and what looks like to be their moms.
"Hi there! You don't happen to be big Harry Styles fans, do you?" You ask, smiling as you see that they are head-to-toe in official (and homemade) Harry Styles clothing.
"Yes!!" The two young girls exclaim.
"I'm actually taking over the official HQ Instagram for today, can I ask some questions and post them on the stories, moms?" They both nod.
"What are your favorite songs from the new album, girls?" You asks.
"Daydreaming!" One squeals.
"As It Was!" Squeals the other.
"Have you ever been to a Harry Styles concert before?"
They all shake their heads.
"Wow, me either. It can be our first times together!"
"No, we don't have tickets." One of the girls admits, looking so heartbroken. "We came⌠just⌠I don't know⌠believing in a miracle or something!"
Timothy interrupts with a cough and hands you something. You quickly stare down and grin. You look back up and make sure Timothy is ready to film it.
"Well, I just happen to have these four tickets for tonight. I don't suppose⌠you girls would want them�" You joke.
The noises they make could break glass, but you don't care, because you are enjoying the pure happiness on their faces.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!!" They say, as they give you a big group hug.
Timothy puts away his phone and the moms thank you both for making the girls' dreams come true.
"I'm just the delivery girl. I won the opportunity to do this! So, I'm so glad you'll get to watch it. Now we really will all have our first concert tonight!"
You give one more hug each, say goodbye, and Timothy leads you away.
"That was amazing! I know exactly how that feels. This is so wild and so fun!" You state.
"That stuff is always the best." He agrees.
~~~~~
During the few hours before show time, you were allowed to eat some food from the catering staff, buy some merch for yourself, and see a little more behind-the-scenes stuff for yourself.
As showtime approaches, Timothy takes you to a spot in the pit where he usually stands.
"I'll take some photos and videos with my phone so that you can enjoy the show." He states.
"Okay, I'm just warning you that I'll be screaming most of the time."
He chuckles. "That's fine as long as it's okay that I will be too."
You both bust up laughing.
The lights dim and everyone screams, including Timothy. Your heart races as you see the stage all lit up and then moreso when you see the man of the night. He is dressed in a t-shirt with rows of red hearts, black pants, red Gucci sneakers, and a big yellow necklace.
How does he do that? How does he make an outfit like that look so good⌠so sexy?
He starts 'Music for a Sushi Restaurant' and you are instantly yelling out every word as best you could (you had been listening to the album almost nonstop since it came out).
Each song is perfection, and the energy in the audience never dies. You are all so collectively mesmerized by the moment.
You're in tears as he plays 'Matilda', as is everybody else. Even Timothy is a little teary.
You have goosebumps. This is the best experience of your life. There's not much that could top this.
~~~~~
The encore finishes and you have to snap yourself out of the trance you feel like you were just in. It was a dream, and you're actually really bummed that it had to end.
"Hey, let's get a clip of you're reaction to the show, yeah?"
You nod.
"Okay, well, there aren't many words to describe that experience. I was taken to a whole other dimension or something because it was so spectacular! Thank you to HSHQ for letting me do this! I am forever grateful!"
"Excellent!"
"Thank you so much Timothy. This really has been amazing! I still can't believe I won that contest and got to do this. Thank you." You give him a hug.
"Aw, from me and the whole team, you're welcome sweetie." He smiles. "I actually took some videos of you during the concert⌠I was going to take you back to relax for a bit while the crowds clear out, and go over them to see if you're okay with me posting any?"
"Oh! Sure. I'm definitely not going to turn down that offer." You giggle.
You follow him backstage and into a room with some chairs, a couch, a table, a coffee bar, and a TV screen. There's people walking in and out, and it's just fun little hang out room. You sit on the couch with Timothy and he goes through some of the videos he took. "I just wanted to capture the 'fan experience' through your eyes." He says.
"Yeah, it's a good idea. I don't mind if you post any of them. I'm bias towards the first one with 'Music for a Sushi Restaurant' since that's one of my favorites." You admit.
"Okay, definitely that one then." He adds it to the stories.
A few more people walk in and they are a bit louder than the others have been, which catches your attention.
Suddenly you gasp. Your heart stops and jaw drops. Walking through the door and towards you is him. Is Harry Styles.
"Oh my god," is all you manage to mutter.
"Hello. Y/N right?" You nod and he reaches out for a hug. You quickly stand up and reciprocate.
His embrace is the warmest, most tender, safest thing you have ever experienced. It's just all joy and love.
"Thank you for taking over today. Thanks for doing this." He points to Timothy's phone.
Finally, you snap back to being a functioning human being and find words to say, but still in disbelief.
"Are you kidding? Thank you for giving me the chance!" You reply.
"It's my pleasure. I liked what you posted." He smiles.
"Wha-" you stutter. "You watched them?"
"F'course. Had to see the 'behind-the-scenes' experience from your point of you." He smiles again. It's full of sunshine. He's just so bright. "Timothy was texting me that you were doing really good.
You glance at Timothy, you just see that he has a grin on his face.
"Thank you. Oh my god, this is fucking unreal, and I feel pathetic right now." You giggle.
"What?" Harry giggles back. "It's just lil ol' me. Just Harry."
You just shake your head and look into those beautiful green eyes.
He adds, "I really liked you showing the inside of the arena without showing the stage. It's like⌠it's like edging a lil bit. It was good." He nods towards Timothy.
"It was her idea." Timothy admits.
You laugh. "Definitely nothing like you do it, but I thought it was fun."
Harry looks at you, wide-eyed, with a huge grin that takes his dimples to a deeper level. "Really? It was your idea?"
You start to blush.
Oh come on, not in front of him.
"I liked it. I liked the whole idea of the fan's point of view." His expression turns inquisitive. "Umm⌠I like to get a good night's sleep, but I do need some dinnerâŚ" he pauses to clear his throat. "Would you like to join us? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the whole thing."
"Are you kidding?"
"I don't joke about dinner." He smirks.
"As you shouldn't.* You chuckle. "I'm⌠I'm still in shock from winning the contest, and now Harry Styles is asking for my thoughts on his show? This is nuts."
"You can just call me Harry, love." He winks. "Come on. Like I said, I don't joke about dinner, and m'starving." He raises his arm in that gentlemanly manner, with his elbow out, so that you can wrap your hand around it.
He looks over at you and smiles, looking down at your outfit. "By the way, you make that official Harry's House sweater look really good."