#locket inspired

Leon’s fingers are laced with yours, his thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly while his eyes are focused on the big screen in front of him. You try to focus, but your gaze keeps dropping to his hand, to his thumb moving slowly over your own, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

The credits began to roll, casting soft blue light across Leon’s face. He hadn’t said a word during the whole film, just sat there quiet, steady, his hand warm in yours.

Now, as the theater lights slowly came up and people started shuffling out of their seats, he finally turned his head toward you. His eyes were softer than usual, not tired or serious like on duty, but relaxed. Happy.

Without saying anything yet, he lifts your joined hands slightly and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles before looking at you with that small smile, the one only you ever see.

Your heart constricts in your chest and you beam at him, blinking slightly as the theatre brightens.

“What’d you think?” He asks, and you cock your head. He laughs a little, standing up and pulling you with him. “Of the movie…?”

“Oh!” You laugh, and he continues to hold your hand as you make your way out. “It was- uh, good. Yeah I liked it.”

Leon smirks, squeezing your hand as you walk out into the cool night. The theater parking lot is mostly empty now, just a few stragglers heading to their cars. He swings your joined hands slightly between you like an idiot in love, which he absolutely is.

“Good,” he says simply, then glances over with that quiet affection again, the kind that makes his whole face light up. “I liked holding your hand more than the movie though.”

Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you, soft and sweet right there under a flickering streetlight.

Your steps falter, and your lashes flutter as you tilt your face, your lips pressing into his. Your heart rate goes double time in your chest, making you feel just the slightest bit dizzy.

One touch from him and you’re entirely his tonight.

His hand lets go of yours, cupping the back of your neck and pulling you closer. Your fingers find his belt, resting on the leather. Leon deepens the kiss without hesitation, his lips warm and insistent against yours. The cool night air fades away, and all you feel is him: the firm press of his mouth, the steady strength of his hand around the back of your neck, how perfectly it fits.

His belt clicks softly under your fingers as he leans into you more, one hand still cradling your jaw while the other finds its way to rest on your hip. He kisses like a man who’s been saving it all up, patient but hungry.

After a few breathless seconds, he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown and his cheeks a little pink before he brushes a stray hair from your face.

“Mm, Kennedy,” you murmur, taking half a step back. “Keep kissing me like that and I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep all my clothes on.”

The flush on Leon’s cheeks spreads to his neck, a boyish grin pulling at his mouth. “I- wouldn’t be mad about that.”

You scoff, raising a brow at him. “Oh yeah?”

He shrugs, sliding into the drivers seat as you sit in the passengers, crossing your legs and flattening your skirt. “Just a bit.”

Putting the car in drive, he makes a left turn, and you watch him, your lip sliding between your teeth. You squirm, the pressure of wanting him building up between your thighs and you lean over the center console, pressing your lips to his ear. “Take me somewhere.”

Leon’s breath hitches the second your lips brush his ear, and for a split second, he forgets how to drive. His foot slips off the clutch, clunk and the car lurches slightly before he recovers.

The dashboard lights glow softly on his face as you lean in closer, your warm breath ghosting over his skin. Your mouth dips, and you press a light kiss to his lobe.

He swallows hard.

Without a word, Leon shifts gears with more purpose than ever before. The engine hums to life beneath him as he pulls out of the theater a lot faster than strictly legal, but who cares? Not tonight.

In seconds, he's making sharp turns through quiet streets, and you mouth at his ear lazily. He clears his throat as he throws the car into park.

You aren’t sure where he parked or if it’s clear but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Leon is pulling off his seatbelt and leaning forward, pressing his mouth to yours so hard your teeth clink.

A small giggle passes your lips as his hands find your waist, long fingers digging in and your hand slides down his chest, to the apparent bulge in his jeans. He inhales sharply and you palm him as your mouths dance, and you sit up on your knees of the passenger side.

Leon pulls back and grips the seat handle, cranking it so that his chair goes back as far as possible. You look at him, with his blown eyes and pouty lips and oh, you could eat him.

“C’mere,” he whispers and it’s a desperate sound. “C’mere, baby.”

You straddle his lap carefully, you skirt riding up your thighs, exposing skin and he leans up, kissing you again. His hand slips between you, a feather light touch to your panties and you nod, encouraging him. No matter how many times he fucks you, he can always use some encouragement.

“Leon,” you whisper, and lick into his mouth. “Want you.”

Leon groans the second your tongue slips into his mouth, and his fingers curl against the damp fabric of your panties. He’s always so careful with you, even when he’s desperate, his hands are shaking a little as he presses a finger to your clit.

His other hand grips your hip hard as you settle fully on his lap, and that small movement makes him throb beneath you. The space is tight in the front seat, the steering wheel digs into your back slightly, but neither of you care.

He breaks the kiss just to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and along your neck. His teeth graze softly over that spot behind your ear, the one that always gets a reaction from you, and then he nips gently before soothing it with his lips.

You lean up, letting him unzip his jeans and you’re tugging your panties to the side. His cock springs free, pale and hard and he runs it through your folds. You give a small gasp, rutting your hips against him and Leon bites his lower lip as he watches with glasses eyes.

He has such pretty eyes.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he mutters, fisting his base as you settle on the head, and slowly sink down. Both of you moan, loud and unapologetic before you splay your hands on his chest. He looks up at your face, jaw slack. “S’okay?”

You smile, cupping his face and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “Perfect.”

His hands fly up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kisses you again, deep and slow this time. You’re on him. Taking all of him. So tight and warm around his cock, moving with such careful trust, and God, it wrecks him.

He breaks the kiss to press his forehead against yours, breathing unevenly as you rock on his lap just slightly, just savoring each other. His hips twitch upward instinctively for more friction but he stops himself; this is your pace tonight.

One hand slides down into your hair while the other grips your ass through fabric-covered skin, gentle possession mixed with awe that someone so incredible wants him.

“Love you,” he murmurs, and you nod, your nose brushing his. “So much.”

“Love you more.” You whisper and you realize with a little drive of your hips you mean it. You’re so in love with him it makes you dizzy.

Hand on his chest, you settle into an easy bounce, the movement deep and smooth. His forehead is slicked with sweat, and the only sound filling the car is the gentle slap slap of skin on skin.

Leon’s eyes flutter shut, his breath coming in shallow gasps as you move on him- slow, sweet rolls of your hips that make every nerve light up. Each motion pulls a quiet moan from his throat, the kind he’d never let anyone else hear. Raw and tender and yours. Only yours.

His hands slide under your skirt now, warm palms spreading over the backs of your thighs to feel more of you, skin on skin, and he leans forward to kiss along your collarbone between soft pants.

He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t try to flip you or take control; he lets you make the decisions. Your mouth finds his and you kiss him fully, letting your eyes close as his tongue swipes at yours.

“I-I’m-”

“I know,” you coo, and your hips go faster. He shakes his head, gripping your thighs harder.

“But I want you to…feel good.” You can see the blush in his cheeks and it’s the prettiest thing.

“I feel good making you feel good,” you hum, and he smiles back. “Okay?”

Leon doesn’t answer, instead he slides one hand to the junction between your thighs, and circles until you make a small gasping sound. He found the spot, he always does, and he watches you with an intense gaze as your lips part, pleasure sweeping over your features.

Leon’s thumb keeps moving in slow, precise circles, firm but gentle pressure right where you need it. He knows your body so well now, every hitch of breath, every tiny arch of your back.

The look on his face is pure devotion, the way he watches you unravel for him like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. His other hand still holds one thigh open for him, and his hips twitch upward slightly with each bounce to meet yours deeper.

A soft whimper slides from your mouth and you’re pitching forward, clutching to him as that fuzzy warmth glides over you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, and you’re squeezing him so well he knows he’s not far behind. “There you go.”

You’re panting when you come down from your high, but you don’t stop your movements. You bounce on him quicker now, with purpose, and the hand on your thigh tightens as he floods you.

Leon’s whole body goes taut beneath you, his back arches slightly against the seat, his mouth drops open in a silent oh, and then he spills inside you with a shuddering gasp.

He doesn’t make loud noises. Not ever. But the way his breath hitches, how his eyes squeeze shut for one long second, pure bliss, tells you everything.

His hips stutter up into yours on instinct as wave after wave hits him, and he pulls your body flush to his chest so he can bury his face in your neck. He kisses there rapidly, wet little pecks mixed with panting breaths, as if thanking every inch of skin.

You stay there, letting him hold you as you both come down, and when you slide from his lap to your seat, you can feel his spend on your thigh.

“S-sorry,” he blurts, like he’s embarrassed, and reaches into his backseat. “I have a shirt somewhere-”

He hands you a folded tshirt and you can tell it’s clean. You wipe up your inner thigh before adjusting your underwear and skirt, and Leon zips up his jeans. It’s hot in the car, the windows a bit stuffy, and he rolls them down. He watches you clean up with quiet attentiveness, his cheeks still pink. He’s not usually embarrassed after sex, especially not with you, but there’s something tender about how he watches you. Like he wants to make sure it was good for you, too.

Once the shirt is discarded and tucked back where it came from Leon leans over and kisses your temple before starting the car. The engine purrs to life as he checks his mirrors, then glances at you. “Want me to take you home? Or… wanna go get ice cream?”

You grin. “Post sex ice cream sounds fantastic.”

He puts the car into drive with a smile, and his hand finds your thigh. You lace your fingers with his, and press a kiss to the back of his hand.

“That was-unexpected.” He chuckles and you give a little shrug.

“I- yeah,” you murmur a little sheepish. “Sorry I kind of, jumped your bones there.”

Leon squeezes your thigh, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of your skirt. “Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, voice warm. “I loved it.”

He brings your joined hands up to press a kiss to yours—right on the knuckles—and then rests them back down.

“Honestly? Best date night ever.” A lazy grin spreads across his face as he drives toward a 24-hour diner known for their milkshakes and fries. The kind of place couples go after midnight with messy hair and smudged lipstick.

The streetlights paint gold streaks across his profile, the strong line of his jaw, that sweet little scar above his eyebrow from an old training accident, and you just stare for a second because God, you’re so lucky.

“Fuck!” you laugh, and slap a hand over your eyes.

Leon blinks at you in surprise before he turns off the car. “what?”

You tilt your head before shaking it. “I just- when did I become such a sap? Like I’m pathetic when it comes to you.”

“You’re not a sap,” Leon chuckles, and contemplates you. “You’re just…a lovergirl. in love with me,” his voice drops, a little shy again. “I think.”

You smile, wide and full as you lean close to him, your noses brushing before you nod. “You’re right, officer. I really am.”

x

Leon k taglist @yours-truly-andrea @xozoelivia

Leon Kennedy ML

Ao3 link

Softlys locket

June of doom/ swoon June ML

You swallow hard, excusing yourself from the conversation before slipping out onto the front porch. The night air is cooler now, thick with humidity as crickets hum in the grass nearby. Your eyes scan up and down your street before settling on his house, dark except for a single light glowing through one of his downstairs windows.

You bite your lip so hard it almost draws blood.

Walk away, some rational part of your brain pleads.

Go to him, argues another.

Your heart wins over logic this time as you cross the street towards his porch, barefoot and reckless just like when you were twenty four.

Your knuckles wrap on the wood of his doorframe before you can change your mind, and you step back, hugging yourself with one hand while the other holds the paper plate. You wait for several minutes, bouncing on the balls of your feet until the door cracks and Joel swings it open. He looks confused and then surprised when he sees you, and you frown.

“I promised I’d save you a slice,” you say after a few moments. You hold out the plate, nodding toward it. “It’s vanilla.”

Joel's heart stutters in his chest at the sight of you standing on his porch again after so long. He'd resigned himself to wallowing in his own misery and now you're here, looking like a vision with the moon illuminating your soft features.

He clears his throat, reaching for the paper plate wordlessly. “Didn't think you'd actually bring me a slice.”

“I promised I would,” you say and he takes it. You fidget, swallowing hard. “Can I come in?”

Joel’s brow creases. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sugar.”

The nickname is a slip of the tongue and it covers you like a lashing.

“I still think about you,” you rush out, digging your nails into your palm. “All the time. I thought it’d go away that it was just a crush but, I- he asked me to marry him and I said yes when I should’ve said no because he wasn’t what I wanted.”

Joel's eyes darken, the muscle in his jaw clenching at the mention of your fiancé. Hearing the words out loud makes it real, makes the jealousy he's been trying to bury rise in his gut like bile.

He wants to tell you no, tell you to leave because you're not good for each other. But the soft look on your face, the please in your wide eyes is his undoing.

He sighs, opening the door wider and stepping to the side with a muttered, “Come in, then.”

You walk past him tentatively, your heart hammering behind your ribs as you step into his space. Joel closes the door with a quiet click, placing the plate on the side table before standing to his full height.

“I thought it’d go away,” you whisper. “It’s been five years and it…it should’ve gone away now right? When I would think of you I’d just, say rest in peace.”

Joel shoves his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to keep his distance. He doesn't trust himself to touch you, not when he's so close to just pinning you against the wall and taking what he's wanted for five years.

He's quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks his voice is rough. “Why'd you say yes, then? To marrying him.”

“Because he was nice,” you give a halfhearted shrug. “Because he was easy, and he was vanilla and vanilla is safe. Because i thought eventually id feel what im supposed to feel.”

Joel's chest tightens at your words, pain and jealousy and anger stirring in his core. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, to tell you that only he could make you feel what you're supposed to feel, but he forces himself to keep his voice measured.

“And did you? Feel what you're supposed to feel with him?”

You chew at your lip, your fingers fisting in the fabric of your dress before you slowly shake your head. Joel exhales and he takes a few heavy steps forward, until he’s so close you can count the grey in his beard, the scent of him filling your head and making it spin. His proximity has you dizzy, the memory of his touch on your skin coming back in waves.

He stares down at you, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that makes your breath falter. He reaches out and runs a calloused finger over your bottom lip, gently tugging it from between your teeth. “Don't do that,” he mutters, his voice rough. “You’ll draw blood.”

You sigh against his hand, and he falters, his fingers slipping around your face, cupping the side of your jaw.

“Joel,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “Tell me it isn’t just me. That it isn’t all in my head.”

Joel's breath hitches as he takes in the way you lean into his touch, the way his heart rate quickens at the soft sound of his name on your lips. He steps even closer, invading your space completely, his other hand settling on your hip with a possessive grip.

“It's not just you,” he says hoarsely, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “It's messy, but it's not just you.”

You’re the one that breaks first.

You surge forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss. He pauses, his hands raised as if to push you away before he melts, sliding his arms around you to drag you closer.

Joel groans into your mouth, his grip tightening as he pulls you flush against him, one hand tangling in your hair and the other sliding down to squeeze your ass. He can't stop himself, not when you taste like the past five years of yearning. He deepens the kiss with a grunt, biting at your lip until you gasp before soothing it with his tongue.

Bending he picks you up and your legs wrap around his middle. His back protests but he pays it no mind, his mouth on yours as he climbs the stairs with you in his arms.

When he makes it to his bedroom he kicks the door closed behind him. He lays you down, tongue licking into your mouth as his hands run up and down your sides, pushing up the fabric of your dress to bunch above your hips. When he sees the dark red lace of your underwear he groans, head falling to your collarbone before you tug gently at the strands of his hair.

Joel's breath is ragged against your neck, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before he drags them down, letting out a low noise when he realizes you're glistening beneath them.

“Fuckin' hell,” he grunts, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh as his hands knead at your hips. “Been waiting for this, sugar?”

“Maybe I missed you.” you whisper, watching as he tosses the underwear over his shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your pelvis before he sits up. You whine at the distance and he hushes you.

“Shh,” he murmurs, tugging at his shirt. “You can be patient can’t you?”

His shirt meets the floor and then he’s stepping out of his jeans, an obvious tent in his underwear. You sit up, running your palm over the bulge and his hips jerk.

“Not when it's you.” you pant, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as he towers above you. The sight of him like this, his hair mussed and eyes dark, ignites a fire low in your belly. “You were dead to me.”

He shivers at your touch, his hand tightening on your hip as you explore the hard lines of his body. He hovers above you fully naked, flushed, his cock already hard. Veined and red, twitching with the effort of how badly he needs to be inside you, but he didn’t rush.

Joel doesn’t move until you cup his jaw and pull him down into a kiss. Mouths met softly, then harder, his tongue tracing your own in slow movements. His body sinking into yours, skin on skin as he shoves your dress up and away, heartbeat to heartbeat.

You grip the back of his neck and whisper against his lips, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

He groans, deep in his throat, and you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips with shaking thighs. Your bare cunt slides over his length and he hisses, hands flying to your hips as you drag against him.

“Fuck, sugar,” he gasps “all wet already.”

You lean down, your breasts brushing his chest, and ground your hips against his length once more. “Because of you,” you whisper. “I used to think about us. The way you’d fuck me, when we snuck around. Other boys are clumsy but you, you knew how to touch me. How to make me feel like I had angel wings.”

He is gone, watching you take full control.

You rise on your knees, just enough to bare yourself to him, and guide him inside, sinking down slowly, inch by tight inch, until he is buried to the hilt.

Both of you moan, raw and loud, mouths agape from the stretch. He is trembling beneath you, the flush of his skin spreading across his cheeks and down his chest. His breathing is ragged, and he's struggling to maintain his composure. “Jesus,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “You feel so good, sugar.”

You start to move, slow at first, grinding your hips in deep, lazy circles that drag the tip of his cock right against your most sensitive area. His hands clamp harder on your hips, trying to keep himself tempered, but you aren’t making it easy.

“You gonna come just from riding me?” he asks, breathless.

You nod. “Already there.”

He groans, slipping one hand between your bodies to rub firm, precise circles over your clit. “There you go sugar,… let me feel you. Let go for me.”

The moment his fingers touch your clit, the knot in your belly pulls tighter, just a little more, just another stroke and-

You're coming with a choked gasp, your thighs shaking as you clamp down around him. He curses under his breath at the tightness of it, watching in awe as you fall apart above him.

Before you can even catch your breath he flips you onto your back without pulling out and starts to move inside of you again, deep and slow. “Gonna make sure I’m all you think about.”

If you weren’t so cockdrunk you’d be embarrassed by how easy you fell apart. He doesn’t stop, his hips snap into you relentlessly now, grinding deep as your soaked cunt flutters around him, so overstimulated your vision blurs.

His name falls from your lips like a mantra—a prayer that only he can answer. His gaze is so heated, so filled with desire and possession, that it sets your body aflame with a hunger that only he can satisfy.

He takes your hand and places it above your head, pinning both of your wrists with one of his big hands. His fingers wrap all the way around them, holding you in place as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Just as sweet as I remember, sugar.”

You can’t answer, just moaning with a nod, nails dragging down his chest, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his breath hot on your cheek as he leans forward, one hand wrapping tight around your throat. You moan again, your walls fluttering and he grunts, jerking up into you with three final brutal thrusts as his cock pulses deep inside you, filling you so completely that you lose your breath.

The post-sex silence is thick, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood pumping under your skin.

Joel takes a few moments to catch his breath and when he looks down at you, his expression softens, his grip on your wrists loosening.

His gaze roams over your face, taking in the flush of your skin and the way your hair is messy and wild from the way his hands had been tangled in it. He brushes a strand away from your face, his touch unexpectedly tender.

“You okay, sugar?” he murmurs, searching your eyes.

You nod slowly as his hand drags away from your throat, dragging a thumb on your jaw. “M’okay.”

His fingers are gentle as they trace the curve of your cheek, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. He exhales hard, trying to calm himself down before pulling away and collapsing onto his back next to you with a groan.

For several long minutes, neither of you speak, then he sighs heavily and runs both hands through his hair before dropping them onto his chest with a rough chuckle. “Well... that was somethin’.”

Leaning up, he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side again, pulling you against him as he does.

His fingers trail lazily over the curve of your hip and down to the inside of your thigh as he lets out a contented sigh. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air between you, but underneath that, there’s something else too; something Joel hasn’t been able to put his finger on for five years.

“Where do we go from here?”

Your question is small, slipping past your lips like a secret. Joel’s fingers pause but just for a moment, then they’re back to moving up and down your side.

He sighs, his hand rubbing over your hip. “That's the million dollar question, ain't it?”

There's so much more he want to say, wants to confess. But he's scared, terrified to put it out in the open in case you laugh in his face and tell him it was just a one time thing, that you didn't actually feel anything.

So he just says, “We go one day at a time.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, turning your neck to face him. “One day at a time.”

-

When day four comes and goes and not a word from you, Joel thinks he’s ready to lose it.

You had slipped from his arms like a thief in the night, promising you’ll figure something out. That you’re grown, more than you had been when you’d first gotten involved with him, and that your parents would eventually understand.

But you hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, and the worry is eating at him.

He's sitting at his kitchen table, hands wrapped tight around a lukewarm cup of coffee, staring holes into his phone screen.

One day at a time, he thinks bitterly, except it’s harder than he anticipated. His thumb hovers over your contact before he finally caves and taps out a message:

You alive? He deletes it, rewrites it, erases again. Eventually settles on: You good?

Short. Simple. Not too desperate, enough to remind you he exists without making himself look like some lovesick fool who can’t go five minutes without thinking about the way you came apart underneath him.

The waiting is what kills him though; watching those three dots appear then disappear like you can’t decide if talking to him is worth the trouble.

Can I come over?

Your text comes nearly an hour later, and he scrambles for his phone. He considers your words, drags himself to the bathroom and runs water over his face before he texts back.

around 7 should be good for me.

Joel's heart is a damn drum in his chest, his palms sweaty as his fingers fly over the keys. He lets out a long exhale as he presses send, then leans over the sink and splashes more water on his face to calm himself down. It's not that big of a deal, he tells himself, as he checks his reflection in the mirror, trying to flatten his hair into something semi-decent.

He's not nervous. Not really. It's just that it's been so long, and he hopes you still like what you see.

At seven sharp, you tap your knuckles on the wood of his front door. You rock on your heels as you wait, butterflies swarming rampant in your stomach. When he opens the door is like liquid peace settles over your bones. You smile, and he smiles back as he steps aside, letting you.

Once you cross the threshold, you don’t wait. You snake your arms around his neck, your nose brushing his as you kiss him. He smells like soap, like he had showered right before you came, and his lips are soft beneath yours.

Joel groans, his hands immediately gripping your hips to pull you even closer. His breath stutters against your mouth, his body responding on instinct—like you'd never left. His tongue slides against your own and he kisses you hungrily, backing you up until you're pressed against the door.

His mouth explores your neck, biting at the skin until he's sure it'll bruise.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” he mutters against your shoulder, his hand sliding up under your shirt.

“It’s only been a few days.”

“Sue me.”

You giggle, dropping down from your tip toes before peering up at him. “So…I spoke with my dad, and then my mom.”

Joel stiffens instantly, his hands freezing on your hips. The mention of your father makes his stomach churn. He's already half-expecting you to tell him some bullshit about your father banning him from ever seeing you again.

“Yeah?” he asks gruffly, trying to remain casual despite the tightness in his chest. “And what'd he say?”

“He was kind of…caught off guard at first. He definitely thinks I’m too young for you. Mom said something similar.” You reply, and Joel gives a little roll of his eyes.

“Can’t blame ‘em.” He mutters but you shake your head.

“But he also said I’m a big girl. That I can decide for myself,” you say in a soft voice that has Joel tripping over himself. “That if you’re good to me…and make me happy? Then who is he to stop it.”

Joel lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Relief washes over him, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. He'd been prepared to have to fight for you, to argue his case and defend himself.

But then he realizes what you said, and his breath hitches.

“Wait,” he says gruffly, pulling back to meet your gaze. “Repeat what you just said.”

Your brows crinkle. “That you make me happy?”

He shakes his head, his hands gripping your waist. “No, the other part.”

He needs to hear you say it again, needs the reassurance. Because there's a small part of him that still can't believe you're here right now, looking up at him with those eyes of yours.

You smile softly. “That you’re good to me.” Joel nods, his mouth twisting and you cup the side of his face. “And you, are Joel. Good to me.”

Joel exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he soaks in your words.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your skin before pressing a slow kiss to the inside of your wrist. When he opens his eyes again, they're honeycolored and wide.

He doesn't say anything else; doesn't have to. Instead, he pulls you into another kiss, gentler this time, softer than before but just as desperate, like maybe if he holds onto you tight enough now, neither of you will have to let go again.

x

JM taglist @joelsmolotov

Ao3 link

Softlys locket ML

Joel Miller ML

You first met Bucky in the library, of all places. You were in the middle of a late-night study session, searching for a rare botany book you needed for your class on medicinal plants. It was close to closing time, and the library was almost empty. That’s when you saw him—tall and quiet, with a soft, thoughtful look on his face as he shelved books. You asked him about the one you were looking for, and without hesitation, he led you to the correct aisle. The way his hand brushed yours as he handed you the book, and the way his eyes met yours, something flickered between you both. There was a spark, quiet, but apparent. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you felt it.

In the time that followed, Bucky would appear at the library now and then, volunteering when he had time. And each time he did, you would find yourself falling for him in the quietest, most unexpected way. You spent hours talking about plants and healing, about life after everything changed. You learned he was still healing too, still trying to figure out what he wanted, where he fit in this world. But he never talked much about himself. He never burdened you with the things he carried. He just let his silence speak for him.

You were a botany student at the local university, your late nights filled with research and exhaustion. Your eyes would burn after hours of studying, your shoulders aching from hunching over books. You’d grab a coffee from the campus café, but it never quite hit the spot, never quite kept you awake enough for the next round of assignments.

Bucky always seemed to know when you were at your limit. He’d catch you on those nights, your eyes barely open as you scanned through pages of textbooks. He’d show up at the library or the café, a warm drink or a snack in hand, offering them without saying much, just a soft, reassuring smile as he pushed the coffee toward you. “Thought you might need it,” he’d mumble, looking away before you could catch him staring at you.

He was gentle in a way that made your heart ache. He’d quietly sit next to you in the library, watching you as you worked, his presence somehow grounding you. If you dozed off at your desk after too many hours, he’d always make sure to gently wake you, or even offer to walk you back to your dorm so you didn’t have to brave the dark campus alone. He wasn’t loud or overbearing; instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Bucky, despite everything he’d been through, never made you feel like you were a distraction, even if you were certain you were. He didn’t want to burden you with his past or the emotional scars from the Blip. But you knew, somehow, he was healing in his own way, slowly, quietly, with each step he took toward you.

It wasn’t just the late-night coffees or the soft glances. Bucky had this way of slipping into your life, unnoticed at first, but before you knew it, you couldn’t imagine life without him in it. There were moments when he’d brush your arm as you passed each other on campus, or when you’d find him waiting by his motorcycle, his gaze soft and distant, like he was contemplating something heavy. And when he looked at you, it wasn’t just the silent concern, it was something deeper, something warmer.

Bucky was quiet, never expecting you to stay, always second-guessing whether he deserved someone like you. But you knew. You knew he was starting to believe in the possibility of it, of someone staying, even after everything.

His affection was subtle but real. A gentle hand on your back when you walked beside him. A small smile that would tug at the corner of his lips when you made him laugh. It was a soft, slow burn, but you could feel it, growing with every passing day.

You were tired from studying, but being near Bucky made it feel like everything was worth it. Even on those long nights when the world felt like too much, Bucky would be there, quietly checking in on you, making sure you were okay. He may have been healing, but so were you. Together, you were finding pieces of yourselves you thought you had lost.

“You’re like a fantasy.” He says one evening, his shoulders hunched as he watches you read. You blink, and slowly look at him with a quizzical expression.

“I- what?” You laugh lightly, more air then sound and his hair sweeps over his eyes. He brushes it back, templing his hands and looking forward instead of at you.

“I don’t want to spend my energy anymore on things that don’t work,” he says softly. “I’m… afraid of getting better. Afraid of it getting too good, because nothing stays like that forever. But then you…you’re this, bliss. This one dream that hasn’t lost its appeal.”

You gape at him, the book infront of you forgotten. He snorts quietly, looking at you sideways. “Don’t look so shell shocked.”

“I just, where did that come from?” You ask, closing the cover and turning, your knees brushing his thigh beneath the table.

Bucky inhales deeply, his shoulders lifting. “I think I-“ he pauses, licking his lips. “I don’t think. I know.”

“You know what?” You ask, leaning closer to hear him better. Bucky shifts, facing you fully, his eyes soft but filled with a storm. He takes a breath like he’s been preparing for weeks.

“I know that I’m in love with you,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can second-guess them. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

You freeze, caught off guard. The room seems to quiet around you as his words sink in. You blink, unsure of how to respond. “Bucky…” you start, but your words falter when you see the sincerity in his eyes. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I didn’t want to make things complicated,” Bucky continues, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s letting out a secret he’s been holding for far too long. “But I can’t stand not saying it. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And it scares the hell out of me, but I had to say it. I’m sorry if I—”

Before he can say more, you reach out, your hand gently cupping his face. Your thumb brushes over his cheek, and the touch seems to break something inside him. His breath catches, and the tension that’s held between you both finally seems to unravel.

“I’ve been falling for you too,” you admit, your voice steady but soft. “I just didn’t know if you’d feel the same.”

Bucky’s eyes search yours, as though looking for reassurance, before a slow smile spreads across his face. “I wish you had told me sooner,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t want to ruin it,” you reply, your voice thick. His gaze softens, and before you can say another word, he leans in, closing the space between you. His lips brush yours, tentative, slow, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. You let him kiss you, feeling him, the weeks of doubt, all dissipating in the warmth of his touch.

When the kiss deepens, the world outside of you fades completely. All that matters is Bucky, his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He’s gentle, patient, as if he’s finally letting himself love you the way he’s always wanted to.

When you pull away, breathless, your forehead rests against his. “Oh Bucky,” you whisper, your hand gently brushing through his hair. “You were worth the wait.”

Bucky lets out a soft, contented sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m glad we’re here,” he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. “I really am.”

x

Ao3 link

Softlys Locket ML

Bucky Barnes ML