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ilovolderman · 1 month ago

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Movie Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to gather proof of your secret relationship with Bucky during a movie night.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, sam losing his mind, one shared blanket

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson was back on his BS.

Not because he wanted to be. No. He had to be. This was about justice. About truth. About the undeniable, unquantifiable, deeply suspicious sense that you and Bucky Barnes were absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent... up to something.

He didn’t have hard evidence. He didn’t even have medium evidence. What he had was vibes.

And the vibes? They were criminal.

It all started on a Wednesday.

The group had planned a “Chill Movie Night.”

Sam arrived early, armed with snacks, a color-coded emotional tracking spreadsheet, and a high-end mood ring that Tony insisted was “useless but fun.”

Everything seemed normal. Steve was fluffing pillows like a dad trying to avoid confrontation. Peter was arguing with the popcorn machine. Natasha was already asleep on the couch. (Open-eyed, somehow. Very concerning.) Tony was making a cocktail out of four liquids that were definitely not FDA-approved.

And then you walked in.

Sam’s eye twitched.

Behind you, Bucky entered. Smirking. Carrying your favorite takeout like some kind of emotionally supportive boyfriend ninja.

“Hey, guys,” you said sweetly, flopping onto the couch. Bucky sat beside you, a respectable distance away.

Until Sam blinked.

And suddenly, somehow, your knees were touching.

EXHIBIT Q. KNEE TREASON.

Sam clutched his soda like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality.

The movie choice? A romcom. Obviously. The plot? Two idiots pretending not to be in love. The irony? Painful.

Sam watched you both. Not the movie. You giggled during the fake-dating scene. Bucky smirked.

Your eyes met for exactly 1.3 seconds. You looked away like your life depended on it.

Sam scribbled in his notes. Tony leaned in, whispering, “Are you actually watching the movie or doing telepathy?”

“I’m watching a conspiracy unfold in real time,” Sam whispered back. “...Of course you are.”

On screen, the protagonists shared a dramatic, rain-soaked kiss. On the couch, Bucky passed you a napkin. You took it without looking. No words. No thank you.

EXHIBIT R. EMPATHETIC NAPKIN TRANSFER.

Sam wrote “co-dependent, probably share a soul.” in his notes.

It got worse. At some point Peter complained about the cold. Tony threatened to install a fireplace. Someone, probably Steve, bless his Midwestern heart, tossed a blanket over the couch. You grabbed one end. Bucky took the other.

Normal. Harmless. Unremarkable.

Until Sam realized there was only one blanket.

And two people under it.

A suspicious amount of shoulder contact was happening beneath that polyester monstrosity. Too much shared body heat. Too much calm.

Sam squinted. “Why are they always so synchronized?” Steve, confused: “Who?” Sam: “The blanket goblins.” Steve: “...Are you okay?” Sam: “NO.”

The movie played on in the background, but you and Bucky were no longer paying attention. Instead, you two were quietly leaning into each other, aware of Sam's eagle-eyed attention from across the room. The couch creaked as Bucky shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely.

"Do you think Sam's lost it yet?" you whispered, voice low, just enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky grinned, but didn’t look away from the screen. "Oh, he’s spiraling. I can feel his brain cells popping one by one."

You let out a tiny snort, trying to hold back the giggle that was threatening to escape. “He's so obvious. He keeps glancing over every two seconds. Should we give him a little more to work with?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a barely contained smirk. “You want to really mess with him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should let him stew for a bit longer.” You shot a playful glance at Sam, who was practically glaring at you two from behind his soda. "He’s getting all worked up for nothing."

Bucky leaned in a little closer, his breath warm on your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make him regret not having a seat next to us.”

He shifted slightly, just enough that your knees brushed against each other. The small touch seemed so innocent to anyone else, but Sam’s narrowed eyes locked onto the subtle movement, his hand hovering over his notebook like a hawk waiting to strike.

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. You did your best to make it look like a completely natural movement as you accidentally rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky, of course, played along beautifully, his arm casually draping over the back of the couch behind you, so close that your bodies were practically melting into each other.

“You okay?” he asked in the most nonchalant tone, but the teasing glint in his eyes was hard to miss.

You blinked, putting on your best innocent face. “Oh, yeah. Just—just—getting comfy.” Your hand brushed against his as you adjusted yourself, and you quickly squeezed his fingers once before letting them fall.

Your eyes flicked over to Sam, who was visibly straining to stay calm, his hand twitching over his notebook like it was a lifeline. You could practically hear his thoughts racing: This is it. This is definitely it. They're in on it.

You smiled sweetly, letting your voice drop to an exaggerated whisper. “I think I might be too comfortable.”

Bucky’s smirk widened, and before Sam could even react, he casually pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and gently brushed his fingertips against your knee. The slightest contact. Barely a touch.

Sam’s eyes narrowed so sharply that it looked like his face might implode. He scribbled something aggressively in his notebook. You could almost hear the frantic ticking of his mental clock. *Evidence: They are physically close. Touch. Note: Is this normal?

You stifled a laugh, shifting just a little to let your body lean more into Bucky. “You know,” you said, voice syrupy sweet, “I could really get used to this.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, shifting just enough that his shoulder brushed against yours, and his hand accidentally found its way to your lower back. “Well, lucky for you,” he said with mock sincerity, “I’m just that kind of guy. Always happy to offer some… support.”

You grinned, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Instead, you pressed your palm into his chest, just enough for the world to think it was a casual adjustment. But oh, you knew. You knew what was happening.

Sam was now glaring at you both with a level of intensity that could melt steel.

Bucky turned his head toward you, but just enough so Sam could definitely see. He made eye contact, and his lips curved into a teasing grin, one that said, I know you’re watching.

You raised your eyebrows in challenge and tilted your head as if asking, What are you going to do about it, Sam?

You caught a glimpse of his expression, then leaned closer to Bucky. “I swear he’s about to pull out a flowchart,” you whispered, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Let him. He’ll need it for all this groundbreaking evidence.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

You and Bucky both leaned back, relaxing into each other, casually oblivious to the total chaos you were unleashing. Sam sat back down, utterly defeated, furiously scribbling in his notebook. He couldn’t even look at the screen anymore.

Then, the movie ended. The lights came on. You yawned. Bucky stretched.

And Sam watched in horror as Bucky casually — casually! — helped you into your jacket like it was 1952 and you were going steady after a sock hop.

You whispered something to him. He grinned. Then you both said you were leaving at the same time, but separately.

Bucky went out the back. You left through the front.

Sam looked at Natasha.

“Did you see that?” She didn’t even open her eyes. “Nope.” “Lies.” “You need a nap.” “I need the TRUTH.”

Tony sipped his weird drink. “I give it another week before they start sharing shoes.”

Peter, from the kitchen: “Wait, do they not already?”

Sam screamed into the void.

Later that night the rooftop was quiet, blanketed in the soft hush of city sounds far below. A gentle breeze tugged at the edge of the blanket draped over your shoulders as you curled into your usual corner, legs tucked beneath you. Fairy lights flickered lazily overhead, casting warm glows over Bucky’s face as he joined you with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

He handed one “Cheers to another successful psychological operation,” you said, clinking the mugs.

“To Operation: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlfriend,” Bucky replied solemnly, taking a sip. He immediately burned his tongue and winced.

You giggled, taking a much more careful sip. “You know Sam’s going to start cross-referencing our foot placement on the couch with moon phases, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Bucky said. “I bet he’s already got a red string board with little thumbtacks that spell ‘LIES.’”

You leaned into him with a contented sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. “We are going to hell.”

“Matching outfits,” he said. “I already ordered the shirts.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink. “Bucky.”

He just smiled, wide and soft and unguarded in the dim rooftop light, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side like you belonged there—and honestly, you did.

A beat of silence passed. The kind that wasn’t awkward. The kind that felt like a warm exhale, like a secret just between the two of you.

You smiled into your mug, letting the words settle. The city shimmered below you. The stars above blinked like they were in on the secret too.

“I like it up here,” you murmured.

“I like you up here,” Bucky replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, right at your temple, like he was memorizing the shape of your joy.

You turned your face toward him, bumping noses a little in that silly, clumsy way that always made him smile. “You’re being very sweet. Should I be worried?”

He shrugged. “Just making sure you know.”

“That you like me?”

“That I’m crazy about you,” he said, and then, quieter: “Even when you’re fake flirting with me to drive Sam to madness.”

You grinned. “Oh, babe. That’s not fake.”

Bucky blinked, then broke into a grin so dopey and full of love it made your chest ache.

You clinked your mugs together again, just because.

Meanwhile Sam was crouched on the roof of a building, squinting through a comically long-lensed pair of binoculars that Tony swore were “state-of-the-art.”

They were not.

They were the opposite of helpful.

They had a cracked lens, fog on the inside, and occasionally made a sad whining sound like they missed retirement.

Still, Sam stared across the distance with the desperate determination of a man on the brink.

Through the foggy lens, he saw… two tiny blobs.

Two indistinct, cozy-looking blobs huddled on the rooftop of Avengers Tower, gently illuminated by twinkle lights that only added insult to injury.

He couldn’t see their faces. He couldn’t read lips. He couldn’t tell which blob was Bucky and which was you.

“Come on, do something,” Sam muttered, adjusting the focus knob. Nothing changed. He flipped it the other way. The blobs got blurrier.

He smacked the side of the binoculars.

They shut off.

He swore loudly and rebooted them.

Inside his earpiece, FRIDAY chimed in, unbothered: “Would you like me to send a drone for closer surveillance?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “No. That’s what they want. Then they’ll know I’m watching.”

“They already know you’re watching.”

“I have to catch them, FRIDAY. Not just feel it in my soul.”

Another blob shifted.

Sam gasped. “Movement. MOVEMENT.” He turned the dial again. Still nothing but murky shadow-people. “Are they... hugging? Is that a hug? Or... is one of them standing up? Oh my god, is Bucky proposing?!”

A long pause. Then, FRIDAY dryly: “Sir. They are literally just drinking cocoa.”

Sam groaned and flopped backward onto the gravel roof, his limbs starfished dramatically like a war hero brought low by cuddle-based crimes.

“This is torture,” he moaned. “I’m three buildings away, I’ve got frostbite on my kneecaps, and I’m watching two potato blobs make suspiciously synchronized cocoa movements.”

“Shall I remind you,” FRIDAY said gently, “that you volunteered for this?”

“I VOLUNTEERED FOR TRUTH. AND JUSTICE. AND—” Sam sat up suddenly. “Wait. Are they... did that blob just touch the other blob’s blob-arm?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Oh god,” he whispered. “They’re holding hands. I feel it.”

“Or one of them is adjusting a blanket.”

Sam made a noise like a teakettle dying. “It’s the vibes, FRIDAY. I am being spiritually attacked.”

A car honked below. Sam yelped and dropped the binoculars. They hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled off the edge of the building with a dramatic clatter that absolutely ruined the "stealth" part of the mission.

Sam stared at the edge.

Then at the sky.

Then at his empty hands.

“FRIDAY, I’ve lost visual.”

There was a beat.

“Sir, you never had it.”

Back at Avengers Tower, on the actual rooftop you snuggled closer to Bucky, sipping your hot chocolate, utterly unaware of the storm raging in a man's soul several rooftops away.

Actually, no—you were very aware.

You nudged Bucky. “Wanna bet where Sam is right now trying to spy on us?”

Bucky grinned. “Roof of that tall brick building with the busted vent.”

You blinked. “How do you know?”

“I waved at him like ten minutes ago.”

next part

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formulaonecrumbs · 2 months ago

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we miss you 😕

dad!Lando Norris x mom!reader

summary: charlie, their 5yo son, didn’t want lando to leave for race week. though, he manages to sneakily message him from your phone

warnings: possibility of getting baby fever (i did)

A/N: i have such bad baby fever it’s crazy. i’ve literally wanted a kid since i was 12 so this fic is just feeding my delusions (when r they not) anyways i hope u enjoy! love u, sweethearts ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the night before he left, charlie wouldn’t let go of his leg.

lando was standing in the hallway with his suitcase, trying to zip it up while charlie clung to him like a koala, arms tight around his thigh and face squished into the side of his leg.

“mate,” lando laughed, running a hand through his hair, “i need that leg. i kinda use it for walking.”

charlie didn’t budge. he mumbled something that sounded like don’t go into the fabric of lando’s sweatpants.

you were standing nearby with your arms crossed, trying not to melt at the sight. “he’s been like this all day,” you said softly. “he even asked if we could hide your passport.”

lando looked down at the little bundle of clinginess stuck to him and sighed. “charlie,” he said gently, crouching down. “come here, buddy.”

charlie let go just enough for lando to scoop him up and hold him close. he wrapped his arms around lando’s neck immediately, sniffing into his hoodie.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he mumbled. “i missed you all the christmas time and now you’re gonna be gone again.”

lando pressed a kiss into his curls. “i know. i missed you too. but i’m only going for a few days. i’ll call every night. and guess what?”

charlie blinked at him, lip wobbling.

“i’m gonna bring you back something super cool from the paddock. like… something very secret and race-car-ish.”

charlie considered this. “like a tire?”

lando grinned. “okay, maybe not that big. but something cooler.”

they stayed like that for a while. you were the one who eventually had to say, “lando, the car’s outside.”

he hugged you tightly at the door, whispered something about texting when he landed and to kiss charlie for him if he’s asleep by the time you get back inside.

but charlie wasn’t asleep. not really. you found him sitting on your bed with your phone in his lap and the most innocent expression ever.

“baby,” you said. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he said way too fast, quickly locking the screen and holding the phone out to you.

suspicious. but you didn’t think much of it.

it wasn’t until later, after you were in the kitchen and finally checking your phone, that you saw it.

today at 7:41 pm

hi dady

i miss u r u in the plane yet

how meny sleeps til u come home

can u tel the car go fast so u win n come bak

do u have snak

i am waring ur hoody mummie

said its to big but i like it

i put ur hat on my bear

read at 7:45 pm ✔︎✔︎

hey buddy

i’m on the plane now

i miss you so much already

you’re wearing my hoodie??

you’re the coolest kid ever. make sure mummy takes a picture, ok?

ok but she dosnt no i took her fone

pls dont tel her

your secret’s safe with me

but maybe give it back before she finds out

also can we hav pankakes when u come home

pancakes and a race car story. deal?

read at 7:56 pm ✔︎✔︎

later that night (before you’d checked your phone), when you went to tuck charlie into bed, he was already curled up in lando’s hoodie with your phone under his pillow.

you sighed, smiling, and gently took it out.

you texted lando yourself before heading to bed.

today at 10:34 pm

charlie hijacked my phone

obviously

but he misses you. a lot.

we both do.

i miss you guys more than anything

already counting the sleeps

kiss him goodnight for me ♥︎ liked by you

and save me a spot in bed for when i’m back

♥︎ liked by you

read at 10:41 pm ✔︎✔︎

you held the phone to your chest for a second before turning off the light.

three more sleeps.

THE END :>

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finelinefae · 7 months ago

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friends [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi meets harry's best friends.

word count: 8.8k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), drunk harry, shy reader, boyfriend!h

this is part 3 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Y/N was slowly but surely finding her rhythm at Pleasing. Thanks to Harry’s advice on making the most of each day (advice he apparently wrote a book about—though when Lindsey mentioned it, Harry had quickly shushed her and changed the subject), she had developed a solid morning and evening routine.

Her workdays at Pleasing fell on the busiest days of Harry’s schedule, which meant she was there three times a week. Those mornings began promptly at 7 a.m., with her clothes already laid out from the night before. After waking, she’d prepare breakfast for herself and her brothers, speaking to Harry on the phone as they went about their respective routines in separate homes. Once breakfast was done, she’d brush her teeth, do her makeup, and style her hair. By the time the school bus arrived to whisk her brothers away, her car would be rounding the corner to take her into the city.

Despite her hectic schedule, Y/N was managing to juggle her studies—though she couldn’t ignore that they were beginning to take a backseat. Lately, she’d found herself questioning whether she even wanted to continue her course. But with life moving at such a whirlwind pace, the thought of making a definitive decision felt overwhelming. For now, it was easier to just focus on the day-to-day.

To her surprise, Y/N was actually enjoying her job—something she’d never expected. She’d never been a fan of “adulting”; being forced to grow up quickly didn’t mean she had to like it. Paying bills, going to work, and worrying about the future had always felt like too much. But having a steady job offered her a rare sense of stability—one she appreciated more than she wanted to admit. It kept food on the table, gave her some consistency, and most importantly, brought her closer to Harry.

Keeping their relationship a secret, however, was proving to be a challenge. Surprisingly, Y/N was the more professional of the two, maintaining her composure in the workplace. She kept her hands to herself and avoided lingering glances, even when they were in the same room. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as disciplined. He had a knack for initiating little interactions that straddled the line of propriety—always claiming they were “accidents.”

Like the time he held her hand just a second too long. Or the time he “accidentally” kissed her in the elevator right as the doors were opening. Then there was the incident during a meeting when, as she served tea, he tugged on the hem of her dress—apparently needing a refill.

Y/N couldn’t help but adore how infatuated he was, but she was determined to keep things professional. The last thing she wanted was for her coworkers to think she had an unfair advantage because of her relationship. Still, Harry’s innocent looks and playfulness made it hard to stay mad at him for long.

“I need to ask you something,” Harry said from his desk.

It was Wednesday evening and everyone had gone home. Harry had needed to catch up on some work so Y/N stayed behind after some convincing with the proposition he would drop her home afterwards. Y/N was sitting on the chair opposite, her notebook open and laptop screen. Her laptop was on its last legs, taking forever to load and lagging every five seconds but she could never afford a new one and having one was better than nothing.

“What’s wrong?” She looked up, wearing her glasses and face framed by wispy bits of loose hair that had escaped her messy bun.

Harry’s face brightened when she looked up at him. “C’mere, Bambi. Too far away.” He pushed himself away from his desk and gestured to his lap.

Y/N smiled and walked around the desk to sit in his lap. She straddled herself across his lap and wrapped both her arms around his neck, “Y’ smell good,” He murmurs, smelling her gingerbread cookie perfume even though it was Autumn, she was already excited for her favourite day of the year.

“What did you want to ask?” She pouted.

As if remembering he bought her over for a purpose, he continued, “This weekend, y’know you’re coming to stay the night?”

How could she forget? It was all she had been thinking about since he asked her. She had even bought brand new pyjamas with the remaining paycheck from her old job because her usual ones were worn and not as pretty. She had never been to a sleepover before let alone one with a man. She was’t sure what to expect but had seen movies where girls would sleepover and they’d paint each others nails and eat ice cream. She knew that wouldn’t be the case with Harry but she had made a list of other things they could do together that he’d enjoy too.

“I know,” Y/N nodded, brows furrowed as she waited for him to continue. Part of her couldn’t help but worry. Did he not want her to sleep over anymore?

"Some of my friends are having a dinner get together type thing," Harry said, his tone casual but hopeful. "I haven’t said I’ll go yet because I knew you were coming over, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to come with me?"

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "To the dinner party? With you?"

Harry smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Yeah, with me. Who else?"

She blinked, processing his words. "I’d be meeting your friends?" she asked cautiously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Why wouldn’t I be sure?" he replied, his brow lifting slightly.

"I don’t know, I just..." she trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to explain the nervous flutter in her chest.

"Ah, there y’go, Bambi," Harry smirked, leaning in just enough to make her cheeks burn. "Getting all flustered."

"I’m not flustered!" she protested, though the warmth in her face betrayed her.

Harry chuckled, his gaze warm and steady as it met hers. "It makes me happy, you know—thinking about introducing you to my friends. They were excited when I mentioned you."

"They were?" Y/N asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

"Mhm," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "They know it’s rare for me to bring someone I’m dating into the mix this early on." He leaned in, nuzzling against her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "So, will you come? We can head back to mine after."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay... but I don’t know if I have anything to wear."

Harry smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Y’know I can sort that," he teased.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she bit back a shy smile as his confidence and charm worked their usual magic.

. . .

Y/N glanced down at her suitcase, biting her lip. Did I overpack for one night? Probably. She always did.

Growing up, money had been tight, but once Y/N started earning her own at sixteen, she’d developed a habit of indulging herself. Not extravagantly—there were no designer handbags or flashy purchases—but enough to feel like she was treating herself after the grind of a day. Skincare, makeup, clothes—her modest earnings often vanished in the blink of an eye.

Fashion was her weakness. Her clothing rack groaned under the weight of her ever-expanding wardrobe, frequently collapsing as if protesting her relentless shopping habit. Packing for this overnight stay at Harry’s had been no exception. She’d started with a backpack, then upgraded to a duffle bag, only to realize that wouldn’t fit everything she might need. Now, her suitcase sat by the stairs, practically mocking her indecision.

“Whoa.” Sammy’s voice broke her thoughts as he sauntered into her room, a chocolate bar in hand. “Are you moving in?”

“No,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips. “I just want to be prepared.”

Sammy raised an eyebrow. “You know, he could just stay here instead.”

Y/N stilled. The boy’s first night without her had everyone feeling uneasy, and she knew Sammy wasn’t looking forward to it. His gaze was guarded, but she could see the vulnerability underneath.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, stepping closer. “It’s just one night. If you really hate it, we’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. “There’s going to be a day when you move out. And leave me. With Mom. Or... without her.”

The words hit harder than he intended. Y/N swallowed the lump forming in her throat, reaching out to him. She saw the sadness etched in his eyes, a reflection of her own fears. “Wherever I go, you go,” she whispered firmly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Sammy leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Y/N held him close, closing her eyes for a moment before pulling away.

The sound of a knock at the front door jolted her. She glanced at the clock, muttering a quick, “That’s Harry,” as she rushed downstairs. She wanted to intercept him before Archie could get started—her little brother’s chatter had a way of turning quick visits into extended stays.

Yanking the door open, she froze. Harry stood there, a beaming smile lighting up his face despite the chill in the air. He wore a puffer jacket and shorts, his casual confidence making her heart skip.

“Hi, Harry,” she greeted, cheeks tinged pink, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or his presence. Without thinking, she leapt into his arms, her sock-clad feet barely touching the doorstep.

“Hi, Bambi,” he chuckled, steadying her as his arms closed around her. “Y’ready to go?”

“Mhm.” She pulled back, slipping on her shoes. “Let me say goodbye to the boys.”

Harry’s gaze shifted behind her, landing on the suitcase by the stairs. A laugh bubbled from him. “Are you planning on moving in?”

Y/N furrowed her brows, following his line of sight. When realization dawned, she flushed. “Oh, that. I, uh... didn’t know what I’d need.”

His grin softened as he stepped closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “S’alright, Bambi,” he murmured. “M’just excited to have you over.”

She smiled, her heart swelling as he leaned in for another kiss. Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed her suitcase and carried it effortlessly to the car.

After she had bid goodbye to her brother’s and promised them some much needed one on one time with them once she came back from Harry’s house, Y/N took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the next twenty four hours.

. . .

In the car to Harry’s apartment, Y/N sat in the passenger seat with one hand intertwined with Harry’s whilst he drove with his other. The radio played through the car speakers, avoiding complete silence on the journey. The dulcit tones of Marvin Gaye playing throughout.

“Y’ hands are freezing,” Harry said. Y/N instinctively tried to pull away as though her hand being cold was a bad thing but Harry clung tighter, raising both their hands and kissing her knuckles before blowing his warm breath over her hand. “Do you need me to up the heater?”

Y/N shook her head, “No it’s okay, my hands get cold when I’m nervous.” She confessed.

Harry frowned, “Nervous? Are you okay?”

Y/N cringed, “M a little worried about meeting your friends. What if they don’t like me?”

Harry gave her a comforting smile, “Bambi, they’re so excited to meet you. You have nothing to worry about. They’ve met other girls I’ve dated and trust me when I say you’re a walking angel in comparison to them.”

“H-Have you dated a lot of other girls?” Y/N felt awkward bringing it up but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Harry had only mentioned briefly of the other women he had dated. Of course he had dated other women, he was a successful, handsome millionaire with a fashion company. It would be pointless trying to deny it.

Harry thought for a moment like he was trying to think carefully about his response, “I’ll be honest, I used to date a lot of women when I first started making money. I wasn’t very good when I started getting attention from the press. I drank a lot and spent money on buying out nightclubs and bars for the night.”

Y/N was shocked. She tried to picture her Harry being the version of himself he spoke about. “But my company was no where near as successful as it is now so even though I was spending a lot, I was losing a lot too. I nearly went bankrupt at one point which really gave me a kick up the ass. My sister, she’s an accountant back home in England, she came to visit and helped me get my act together.”

“Oh wow,” Y/N didn’t really know what else to say. She couldn’t seem to envision her sweet, soft and wholesome Harry being a party animal and spening nights in bars for days on end.

“Did that put you off?” Y/N immediately shook her head.

“Of course not, we’ve all got things we’re not proud of.” Y/N replied.

Harry smiled, “What about you? Any psycho ex-boyfriends I need to worry about?”

Y/N laughed, “No lucky for you, I don’t think a single guy has ever taken interest in me.”

“I highly doubt that Bambi but you’re right, I am very lucky.” Harry flashed a cheeky grin, turning the wheel around the corner and stopped outside the tallest building she had ever seen that looked as though it was completely made of glass.

Y/N’s was unable to say anything when her eyes gazed up at the towering stack of apartments. “You live in this building?” Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off, her neck permanently craned to look up. She was pretty sure the hjgihest point of the building resided in the clouds.

Harry said nothing, parking his car in the private parking spot. He went to the back to grab her suitcase, Y/N stepping out of the car and walking around to meet him.

“C’mon Bambi,” Harry chuckled at her awe-struck expression.

They walked hand in hand through the lobby which looked as glamorous as you’d expect. Harry gave a nod to the security at the door as they went past and headed towards the elevator. Y/N’s eyes widened when his finger pressed the button for the top floor.

The doors to the elevator opened and Y/N thought she might actually pass out.

She stepped into Harry’s penthouse, her breath catching as her gaze swept over the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, all the people and cars down below looked like ants. The open layout was both elegant and inviting, with warm ambient lighting casting a golden glow over the neutral-toned furniture and rich wooden floors.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step further inside. The plush cream sofa, the sleek coffee table stacked with books, and the faint scent of vanilla in the air all felt so Harry—effortlessly stylish and welcoming.

Harry chuckled behind her, setting her suitcase by the door. “You like it?”

“Like it?” she breathed, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Harry, this is... incredible.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “M’glad you think so. Wanted it to feel comfy, y’know? Somewhere I could actually relax.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting back to the view. “Sometimes I forget how rich you are.”

Harry chuckles from behind her, “I’m actually very glad to hear that.”

She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands gently against the glass as she looked out at the city sprawling beneath them. For a moment, it felt like they were floating above it all, separate from the noise and chaos of the world below.

Harry joined her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “S’better with you here,” he murmured, his voice soft.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she leant into him. Harry kissed her shoulder, turning her round to face him. He smiled when her eyes met his, “We have some time before we need to get ready, do you want to go unpack?”

“Oh of course, am I sleeping on the couch?” Harry furrowed his brows before bursting out laughing, water almost fell from his eyes. Y/N frowned, confused at his reaction.

“You don’t want to sleep in my room Bambi? With me?” Y/N’s cheek scorched red but Harry just continued to laugh, “I mean I’m happy to sleep on the couch and let you sleep in my room if that’s what would make you comfortable.”

“No, it’s okay! I was just messing around,” She was all flustered. The idea of sleeping in Harry’s bed with him hadn’t crossed her mind like it maybe should have.

“Are you sure? Y’ know I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.” Y/N’s shoulders sunk at his sincere concern, she stood on her toes and kissed his lips. This time it was his turn to be surprised since it was rare for her to be the first to initiate a kiss between them.

“I know,” She smiled, “I want to sleep in your room… with you.”

Harry smiled, “Good. Let me give you a tour first.”

Harry led Y/N back toward the kitchen, still holding her hand as they strolled through the open-concept living area. “First stop: the kitchen,” he said, motioning grandly as they stepped into the sleek, modern space.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and a large island that looked like it had been plucked from a home design magazine. A trio of pendant lights hung above, casting a warm glow over the pristine surfaces.

“Wow,” she breathed, running her fingers along the smooth countertop. “This is amazing. Do you even use it?”

Harry grinned, leaning casually against the island. “I use it for takeout. Does that count?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know how anyone could resist cooking in here.”

“I can resist pretty easily, love,” he said with a smirk. “But if you ever fancy cooking together, I’m happy to assist. I’m great at stirring things and, uh… taste-testing.”

“Of course you are, no wonder you own a restaurant.” Y/N teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Harry chuckled, then nodded toward a door off to the side. “Alright, next stop: my office.”

He guided her through the door and into a smaller, cosier room that contrasted with the open, airy feel of the rest of the penthouse. The office was lined with dark wood shelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and scattered trinkets. A large desk sat in front of another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, the view just as stunning as the one in the living room.

“This is where I get most of my work done,” he said, walking over to the desk and leaning on it. “Or where I try to, anyway. Sometimes I just sit here and stare out at the city.”

Y/N wandered over to the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books. “It’s so… you,” she said softly, glancing at the little details—a framed photo of him with his family, a guitar pick sitting on a stack of papers, and a candle that smelled faintly of cedar.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean messy?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I mean it’s thoughtful. Personal.”

Harry’s smile softened, and he reached out to take her hand again. “Alright, enough of the boring office. Time to show you the best room in the house.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he led her back down the hallway to his bedroom. When he pushed open the door, her breath hitched.

The bedroom was even more stunning than she’d imagined. The centerpiece was a massive bed with crisp white linens that looked impossibly soft, surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture. The far wall was made entirely of glass, offering an unobstructed view of the glittering city below. Heavy curtains were drawn to the sides, framing the view like a painting.

Harry watched her take it all in, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s… incredible,” Y/N whispered, stepping into the room. She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands against the glass as she gazed out at the city. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep. I’d just stay up staring at this view.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Harry said, coming up behind her and resting his hands gently on her shoulders, “the bed is comfortable enough to make you forget about the view.”

She turned to look at him, her cheeks warming. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Harry grinned, his dimples on full display. “Challenge accepted, Bambi.”

He took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting down beside her. The mattress really did feel like a cloud as she sank into it.

“I was serious earlier,” Harry said, his tone softer now. “You can sleep wherever you want—the bed, the couch, the office chair if you’re feeling adventurous. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his thoughtfulness. “I already told you, Harry. I want to sleep here. With you.”

His eyes lit up at her words, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that too.”

Harry stood up, “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ve just go to make a few calls but there’s an ensuite bathroom you can use to freshen up.”

After Harry brought her suitcase to the bedroom, he left her to unpack. Y/N unzipped it and pulled out her washbag, heading into the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom was stunning—a walk-in shower with dark tiles and jets built into the walls. She stepped to the sink, admiring the clean lines of the vanity, and placed her washbag carefully on the counter. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed all of Harry’s skincare neatly organized in a cute little spinning container—it was such a contrast to her own chaotic setup. But then her eyes landed on the glass by the sink, where his toothbrush rested.

Beside it was a pink toothbrush.

Her heart softened at the sight, a warm flutter spreading through her chest. There was something about that simple detail that made her feel all warm and gooey inside. She’d never believed she would find someone she’d want to spend so much time with but here she was staying the night with Harry and about to meet his friends.

Y/N walked into the living room, where Harry was already sitting on the couch with his laptop perched on her lap. He smiled when he saw her, and then his gaze fell to the object she was holding. “Is that Monopoly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, it’s the original version. I asked my brothers if I could bring it with me since we've had this set forever, and they would absolutely murder me if I lost any pieces. We have to be able to play it at Christmas."

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked in amusement. “Hmm, may I ask why you decided to bring Monopoly with you today?”

Y/N paused, clearly puzzled. “Isn’t that what people do at sleepovers? Play games?”

Harry’s grin spread wider. As she stepped closer, he reached out, pulling her toward him. She ended up collapsing onto his chest with a soft laugh.

“Oh, Bambi,” he murmured, showering her face with quick kisses. His lips tickled her skin, making her giggle uncontrollably. “You’re the most precious girl I’ve ever known, you know that?”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Does that mean you want to play?”

Harry gave a dramatic sigh, still grinning. “Of course! Are you kidding me? I love this game.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice playful. “Well, be prepared. I’m not one to brag, but I’m pretty good at it.”

His eyes lit up with challenge. “Oh, Bambi’s competitive, I see.”

A spark flickered in her eyes as she leaned in slightly, “Just a little.”

. . .

Harry loved discovering the many layers of his Bambi. To the outside world, she was shy and quiet, but to him, she was a multi-faceted woman, full of surprises he was peeling back one by one. Yet this afternoon might have revealed his favorite side of her yet.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement and mischief as she declared her victory in Monopoly—long before the game had officially ended. Harry had debated whether to let her win, as any gentleman might, but it turned out he didn’t need to. She was fiercely competitive and had wiped the floor with him in just thirty minutes.

If time had allowed, Harry would’ve played another round or concocted a new game just to watch her face light up with that same playful energy. The afternoon spent with her, laughing over a simple board game, had him envisioning Christmas mornings and holiday traditions for years to come. It was silly, perhaps, to think so far ahead so early in their relationship, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t picture a future without Bambi in it.

Still, as the game wrapped up, he could see her nerves creep back in. The mention of preparing to meet his friends made her retreat into herself, her earlier exuberance melting into quiet apprehension. Despite his reassurances, Harry knew she’d wrestle with her anxiety until the dinner was behind them.

His friends, on the other hand, were eager to meet her. Their group chat had been buzzing with excitement about “the girl who finally tied him down.” Since Harry’s family was back in England, his friends were the closest thing he had to family in LA, making their opinions matter. But he had no doubt they’d love her.

In the living room, Harry waited for Y/N to finish getting ready, dressed in his tailored dark suit with a relaxed fit. The loose white tank underneath, with its wide scoop neckline, subtly revealed his tattoos, and the Pleasing logo stitched at the hem added a personal touch. Cream-colored loafers and white socks completed the look, his short curls neatly styled to keep them from obscuring his face.

The click of the bedroom door snapped him from his thoughts. He rose from the sofa, as alert as a puppy hearing its owner return. When Y/N stepped out, the oxygen seemed to leave the room entirely.

Her dress was light pink, soft and flowing, with thin spaghetti straps and a V-shaped neckline that showcased her décolletage. The slightly sheer fabric hinted at her elegant curves, while the asymmetrical hemline added a whimsical touch. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, and her makeup was pink-toned and dewy, enhancing her natural glow. She paired the dress with strappy silver heels and a small, dainty bag dangling from her shoulder.

Her hand clung to her opposite arm, feeling vulnerable as she stood before him. Harry felt his breath hitch, his lips parting as he tried to absorb how breathtaking she looked.

“Bambi…” he managed, his voice low and reverent.

Her cheeks flushed. “Is it too much?” she asked softly.

Harry stepped closer, taking her hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You look beautiful. I don’t even have the words to tell you how incredible you are.”

She ducked her head, shy like the deer he affectionately nicknamed her after. “Thank you. You look very handsome, too,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world.

“Do you like my dress?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Harry’s hands slid to her waist, feeling the soft fabric and the gentle curve of her silhouette. “I love it.”

“I made it,” she admitted, her blush deepening.

His brows lifted in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded, and Harry was awestruck. He’d seen her sketches before—ones she had reluctantly shared after he begged—but seeing her creations come to life was something else entirely.

Harry glanced at his watch, sighing reluctantly. “We should probably get going, but first…” He pulled out his phone, aiming it at the two of them. Y/N laughed, trying to push the camera away, but eventually relented, leaning in to kiss his cheek just as he snapped the photo. His grin widened, his eyes crinkling with joy.

Taking her hand, he asked, “Do you need a jacket?” His gaze flicked to her bare arms.

“I’ll be okay, as long as the bar has heating,” she replied with a small laugh.

Harry chuckled but grabbed a jacket on their way out anyway. He knew her well enough to anticipate the moment she’d get cold but wouldn’t say a word about it.

The drive to the bar felt like it took forever, thanks to the heavy city traffic. Harry’s hand remained warm on her thigh, and she wrapped her arm around his, seeking comfort from his touch. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to stop.

“A little,” she confessed, glancing over at him. “I just want them to like me. I’ve never had to introduce myself to anyone’s friends before... I don’t want to mess up.”

“You’ll be fine, Bambi,” Harry reassured her, his voice calm as always. He’d said it so many times already, and she knew he’d say it dozens more if she needed to hear it. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to be.”

Y/N wouldn’t say it out loud, but the age difference between her and Harry’s friends had been weighing on her mind all evening. The nine-year gap between her and Harry had never been an issue for them—it felt inconsequential when they were together. But his friends might see it differently.

What if they thought she was too young, too inexperienced, too… immature for someone like him? Worse, what if they assumed she was with him for his success, for the money he worked so hard to earn? The mere thought made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to be judged on circumstances she couldn’t change or assumptions she couldn’t dispel.

Harry’s friends meant a lot to him, and their approval—or lack of it—would sting far more than she cared to admit.

She nodded anyway, letting out a slow breath and turning her gaze to the window. The city lights blurred outside, their glow reflecting in her eyes. Even though his words helped calm her, she still couldn’t shake the nerves.

When they pulled up to the bar, the fancy building loomed in front of them. A valet was already waiting, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Harry always seemed to have the luxury treatment everywhere they went. It was a reminder of how different her world was from his, but she tried not to dwell on it.

As Harry stepped out of the car, Y/N noticed the photographers waiting outside. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made her stomach tighten. Harry wasn’t a mega-celebrity, but he was well-known enough in the business world that the occasional paparazzi was inevitable.

Harry opened the door for her, his hand gently resting on her hip as he helped her out. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head, and it felt like both a reassurance for her and a subtle message to the photographers.

The bar was dimly lit and sophisticated with shiny tables and chairs with red upholstery. Live jazz music played as people chatted over glasses of wine that probably cost more than Y/N’s monthly wages had to offer. “Do you own this bar?” Y/N asked, clinging a little bit tighter to Harry’s hand.

Harry chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Not this one,” he said, guiding Y/N toward a booth at the back of the bar. As they approached, the laughter of a group already seated at the table reached her ears. The sound was warm, familiar, like a group of people who had known each other for years.

A man with long brunette hair had his arm around a woman with similar dark hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders. The two of them were laughing, their faces lit up in shared joy, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as they neared the group.

Before she could even take a deep breath, one of the men spotted them walking over. He had a rugged beard, and he stood up with a grin, his drink in hand.

“Harry!” he called out, extending his hand.

Harry gave him a knowing grin and shook his hand firmly, his other arm still wrapped around Y/N. “Mate,” he greeted warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

Y/N watched the exchange, trying to hide the anxious flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important moment for her. She hadn’t met many of Harry’s close friends yet, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a defining moment—how they reacted to her, how she’d fit in with this group that meant so much to him.

The man with the beard turned to Y/N, his eyes flickering with curiosity, and then he offered her a smile. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his tone warm and welcoming. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Y/N smiled, a little relieved at the friendly tone in his voice. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, her nerves still there but starting to ease. “I’ve heard so much about you guys.”

Harry stood beside her, his hand still resting at the small of her back, offering her silent support as she navigated this new territory.

The man with the beard grinned as he stepped back, giving Y/N a moment to breathe. "This is Mitch," Harry said, gesturing to the man with long brunette hair who was seated next to a woman with equally dark hair. Mitch gave her a warm, easy smile, his arm casually wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.

"It’s great to meet you, Y/N," Mitch said, his voice easy and friendly. "Harry’s told us all about you."

Y/N’s nerves eased a little more as Mitch’s friendly demeanor helped her feel at home. "I hope it’s all good things," she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

"Oh, definitely," Mitch replied, nudging Harry with his elbow and giving him a teasing grin.

Sarah, Mitch’s girlfriend, stood up from the booth with a bright smile, her waves of dark hair catching the light. She reached out to shake Y/N’s hand, her voice warm and welcoming. “Hi! I’m Sarah. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, but Sarah’s friendly tone immediately put her at ease. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied with a smile, trying to match Sarah’s warmth. "Harry's mentioned you guys a lot."

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah teased, winking as she sat back down beside Mitch.

Before Y/N could respond, a deep voice from the other side of the booth spoke up. “You must be Y/N,” a man with a thick beard said, “I’m Jamie.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Y/N smiled.

Jamie gave her a smile that seemed to take up half his face, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Harry’s been keeping us in the loop." He offered her a firm handshake, his grip warm. “It’s about time we met the girl who finally has him whipped.”

Finally, a woman sitting across from Jamie stood up, her presence immediately commanding attention. Alessia was striking—her short hair framed her face with confidence, and her posture was strong. She offered Y/N a small, warm smile. "I’m Alessia," she said, extending a hand. "It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Harry."

"Nice to meet you too," Y/N said, shaking her hand with a smile. There was something calming about Alessia’s assuredness that made Y/N feel at ease, even though she was a little more reserved than the others.

As Alessia returned to her seat, Harry’s hand still rested on Y/N’s back, a silent comfort in the midst of the introductions, as they sat in the booth next to Sarah and Mitch. His friends were exactly as he’d described—kind, welcoming, and playful. They were a perfect match for Harry and that bought a sense of relief to her.

“Can I get you a drink?” Harry murmured to Y/N, his hand gently brushing against hers as he leaned in.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She had never really drunk alcohol before—not because she didn’t want to, but simply because she never really went out drinking. Whenever she was out with her brothers, she always stuck to something safe like Coke or Sprite. She felt a little embarrassed to admit that she wasn’t sure what to order.

“Um…” She fumbled for words, feeling self-conscious. "I...I don't really know what to drink."

Harry’s smile softened, as if he understood right away. “Would you like me to pick something for you?”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. He wasn’t making her feel stupid. "Yes, please," she said gratefully, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

With a nod, Harry turned and motioned for the guys to follow him toward the bar. As they walked off, Y/N felt her nerves kick in again. She was left standing with Sarah and Alessia, the two women who already seemed so at ease with each other and the group.

Y/N suddenly felt a little out of her element. She wasn’t used to hanging out with other women in this kind of setting. With her brothers, everything was easy and casual, but this... this felt different. She was afraid that her awkwardness would be obvious, so she searched for something to say, anything to break the silence.

It didn’t take long for Sarah to sense her discomfort. She leaned forward with a welcoming smile. “Where’s your dress from? It’s gorgeous,” she asked, her voice light and friendly.

Y/N's face softened at the compliment, and she felt more at ease. “Oh, um, I actually made it,” she said, a little shy but proud. "I love fashion, so I’ve been sketching designs for a while."

Sarah’s eyes widened, impressed. “Wait, you made it? That’s amazing!” She looked at Y/N with genuine admiration. “It looks beautiful on you. I honestly thought it was something you bought from a high-end store.”

Y/N laughed softly, feeling a bit shy but happy with the compliment. “Thanks, that means a lot. I’ve kept a lot of my sketches in an old notebook, but I’ve always wanted to show them to someone.”

“I would love to see them sometime,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “I’m obsessed with fashion too. Maybe we can swap ideas sometime.”

Alessia, who had been listening with a smile, chimed in. “You’re really talented. I’m sure Harry’s lucky to have someone so creative around especially with his company.”

“Do you guys work in fashion too?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious about the two women she’d just met.

“Just Harry, I’m afraid,” Sarah replied with a playful smile. “We all went to art school, though. Mitch and I own an art gallery together, and Jamie runs a theatre company.”

“And I design album art for artists,” Alessia added, her voice warm and casual.

Y/N’s eyes widened in genuine awe. “Wow. That’s so impressive. Is that how you all met? Through art school?”

“Yep, we were kind of the outcasts of our year group,” Sarah said with a chuckle, “so we stuck together. And look where we are now.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the closeness between the group. “That’s so cool. And... were you and Mitch together back then?”

“Oh no,” Alessia laughed, shaking her head. “Sarah and Mitch didn’t get together until after art school. It was excruciating to witness—those two pining over each other for four years and never doing anything about it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Alessia’s blunt description. “That sounds like a movie.”

“It kind of was,” Sarah said, laughing with her. “But it worked out in the end.”

“I bet Harry told you about us,” Alessia continued, leaning in a bit. “He told us he was bringing you tonight, and we were all nervous, actually.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, surprised. “Really? I was nervous too.”

“Are you kidding? After Harry’s last ‘girlfriend,’” Sarah said with a playful eye-roll, “we thought we’d be meeting some bitchy gold-digger who’d be all over him, trying to separate him from us. But then we met you, and it was like, thank God—you’re nothing like that. Honestly, we’re so relieved.”

“Harry talks about you non-stop,” Alessia added with a teasing grin. “For the last month and a half, it’s been ‘Y/N this, Y/N that,’ in our group chat. It’s kind of sweet, honestly.”

“Really?” Y/N blinked, her face softening with surprise.

Sarah smiled warmly. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nice to hear. He deserves someone who treats him right, you know? Especially after everything he’s done for all of us.”

Alessia nodded, her expression turning a little more serious. “He got me out of some serious debt. I was on the brink of losing everything, close to being homeless... but Harry stepped in. He rented me a place, helped me get back on my feet, and even called in a favor that landed me my first real job. He’s the most caring person I know.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at Alessia’s words. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard someone speak so highly of Harry, but it never failed to move her. Hearing it from his friends, people who had seen him at his best and worst, made her realise just how deeply Harry cared about the people in his life—and just how lucky she was to be part of it.

Soon Harry returned with the boys, sliding into the seat next to her. He placed a drink in front of her, “I got you an Aperol Spritz but if you don’t like it I can get you something else.” He told her.

“Thank you,” She beamed up at him and took a sip of her drink. It was light and bubbly with a slight bitter yet citrusy taste. The more she drank, the more she enjoyed the taste of it.

Harry continued conversing with his friends, and Y/N found herself enjoying the easy banter between them. It was nice to see this side of him—relaxed, almost boyish, and playful. The way his friends teased each other with such familiarity made her smile, and it felt like she was catching a glimpse of Harry’s world before she’d come into it.

She liked his friends. All of them were warm and welcoming, each with their own distinct personalities, but there was a genuine closeness that she could see. They kept her in the loop, filling in the gaps on things she might not have fully understood—like an inside joke or a shared memory—until she felt like she was beginning to grasp the dynamics between them.

Sarah and Alessia were especially attentive, constantly asking her questions and trying to learn everything about her. Y/N appreciated their curiosity and kindness. They didn’t make her feel like an outsider, instead showing genuine interest in her life and her background.

Every so often, Y/N would catch Harry looking down at her. He’d check in on her, his gaze soft, making sure she was okay and not feeling overwhelmed. His protective instincts were clear, and she was grateful for it. He didn’t hover, but whenever he could, he’d quietly reassure her with a small smile or a squeeze of her hand under the table.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just another guest at the table—she was part of the conversation, part of the group. And it was easy to relax into that sense of belonging as the night wore on. Even though she was still a little out of her comfort zone, she couldn’t help but feel more at ease with every passing minute, especially with Harry so nearby.

She laughed at something Sarah had said, a light, genuine sound that felt more natural than she expected. The whole night had been surprisingly fun, and for once, she was enjoying being part of something so lively, instead of shrinking back.

“So Y/N, what’s Harry like as a boyfriend?” Jamie asked, causing Y/N to freeze in her seat.

Harry’s hand stilled from where it had been drawing invisible circles on her knee. The table seemed to pause, sensing the awkwardness in the air.

“That bad?” Jamie chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

Y/N’s mind scrambled for the right words. She wasn’t sure how to describe their relationship—things were still new, and they had never really put a label on it beyond "dating." Her mouth felt dry as she fumbled for a response.

“U-um, we’re not— I don’t think—” Y/N stumbled, her face flushing. She didn’t know how to put it into words, not wanting to make things awkward or overthink it.

Before she could continue, Sarah quickly chimed in with a grin, “A better boyfriend than you.”

The entire table burst out laughing, and the tension in the air seemed to lift immediately. Jamie threw his hands up in mock defeat, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take the loss. But I’m definitely curious now,” he said, leaning forward. “What makes Harry such a great boyfriend, then?”

Y/N glanced at Harry, meeting his eyes, which were filled with amusement but also a warmth that made her heart skip. "Yeah, Bambi, what am I like as a boyfriend?"

Her lips parted at the question. It was the first time he had referred to their relationship so openly, and the realisation hit her in a way that made her smile nervously.

“Well,” Y/N began, her voice softening as she relaxed, “he’s incredibly thoughtful. He’s always checking in on me, making sure I’m alright, and—he actually listens. He’s not the kind of guy who brushes off what I say or rushes through things. He’s really present.”

Harry’s hand slid over to hers under the table, his fingers intertwining with hers in a quiet show of support. He squeezed her hand gently, his gaze tender, saying everything without needing words.

“And he’s fun,” Y/N added with a light laugh, her nervousness easing. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously, which is honestly one of my favorite things about him.”

Harry’s smile deepened at her words, and there was something in the way he looked at her—like he was asking her a question without saying it aloud. “I love it… Being his girlfriend.” Y/N blushed but Harry’s face widened into a grin, one of his dimples appearing on his cheek.

The group exchanged knowing glances, clearly enjoying the moment. Alessia raised her glass, her eyes twinkling.

“To Y/N, we wish you all the luck in the world for having to put up with us.” she said, toasting her with a wink.

Everyone joined in, lifting their glasses, and Y/N felt her heart swell at the way Harry’s friends rallied around them.

. . .

Y/N hadn’t noticed how much Harry had had to drink until his head rested on her shoulder, in the middle of her conversing some more with Sarah and Alessia, “Think I want to go home Bambi,” He murmured. Y/N pushed his droopy curls back and saw the hazy look in his eye, a lazy smile on his lip, “So pretty,” His lips puckered as he spoke.

Y/N giggled, “How are we meant to get home silly, you drove us here.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry huffed, “I did didn’t I?”

Sarah chuckled, “We can drop you guys home on the way back to our place. We’ll just tell the valet to keep hold of his car. He can pick it up tomorrow as punishment.”

Y/N laughed softly, nodding her thanks to Sarah. "That sounds like a good plan," she said, looking down at Harry, whose cheek was now squished adorably against her shoulder. He was humming a tune she couldn’t quite place, the sound low and soothing despite his obvious tipsiness.

Harry’s hand found hers under the table, his fingers clumsily lacing through hers. “Y’ make me the happiest Bambi. ‘M so happy y’ m’ girlfriend.” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred but unmistakably earnest.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart skipping a beat. “That’s a lot of happy,”

“It is isn’t it?” Harry laughs.

Sarah stood up, grabbing her bag. “Alright, let’s get you two lovebirds home.”

Y/N helped him to his feet. He wobbled slightly, leaning heavily against her. “You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” he said as they made their way to the exit, his voice loud enough to draw a few amused glances from nearby tables.

“I think I’m starting to get the idea,” Y/N replied, her tone affectionate as she wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“I’m hungry,” he announced loudly. “Can we get chips? Or pizza?”

“Let’s get you home first, superstar,” Mitch said, clapping him on the back and making Harry stumble slightly into Y/N.

“You’re my hero,” Harry murmured dramatically as they shuffled toward the car, his arm draped over her shoulder. “You saved me, Bambi. You’re the best.”

“You’re going to think otherwise when you see how many embarrassing photos Sarah and Alessia probably took tonight,” Y/N quipped, her laughter blending with the others’ as they piled into the car.

“Embarrassing?” Harry blinked at her, his expression mock-serious. “Never. I look good in all lighting.”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a laugh as Harry’s head found her shoulder once more. “We’ll see about that in the morning,” she said, her voice fond.

Harry let out a contented sigh. “You smell so nice,” he murmured sleepily.

Y/N giggled, smoothing her hand over his curls. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the car pulled away from the bar, Harry mumbled something about her being “too good for him” before trailing off into a soft snore. Y/N looked down at him, her heart swelling. Even in his drunken, clumsy state, he had a way of making her feel like the most important person in the world.

Once Sarah and Mitch dropped them off right at Harry’s front door, Y/N was left with the daunting task of lugging Harry to his room. He wasn’t exactly helping, his body swaying dramatically as she tried to steady him.

“Harry, you’re not making this easy,” she huffed, half-laughing as he stumbled. By some miracle, she managed to guide him to the bed, where he flopped down—half on the mattress, half on the floor.

“Mission accomplished,” she muttered under her breath, crouching down to untie his laces. But just as she reached for his shoe, he playfully kicked his foot away, his lips curling into a cheeky grin.

“C’mere, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice low and a little slurred.

Y/N stood, brushing off her knees, only to find herself being tugged down onto the bed when he grabbed her wrist. She landed on top of him with a surprised gasp, her hands braced against his chest.

“Harry!” she exclaimed softly, but he didn’t say anything, just looked up at her with those green eyes, hazy but full of something she couldn’t quite describe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to blur as they gazed at each other, an unspoken connection passing between them. Harry reached up, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The faint smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, but his touch was steady, his expression achingly tender.

“Mean it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You make me the happiest.”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the sincerity in his words, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “You make me the happiest too, Harry.”

Taglist~

ravenclawmarvel noididnotsignupforthis comicalivy @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @mads3502 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown malf-azx @angeldavis777 fruity-harry he6rtshaker vikiii07 hannah9921 pepperonipastas sideboobrry11 soteric-princess madelinelcl ciriceimpera angelbunny222 dutchtheatrelore tchlamqtsgf hawkinsavclub1983 ironstudentlady tpwk-harry-styles angywritesstuff hstbsl06

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hisui-zorua · 7 months ago

Text

art is such a wonderful thing to be able to create. to take time out of your day to create something that meaningfully impacts someone else. to be able to put your vision out on paper or a screen or a slab of clay and it becomes art.

however, not everyone is able to have that privilege. @shoroa91 and her family have been robbed of a home, a place to live, their educations, and her children's childhoods.

every day, she reaches out to people to spread the word that she is still alive, that she will keep fighting for her and her children. so that one day, they can live a safe and free life.

if you have sympathy and some money to spare, please consider helping shorouq and her children.

as of writing this post, she is at €1,346 / €30,000, only 4% of her goal. she has been vetted.

taglist (dm to be removed)

@skinwretch @meowmaids @featherfrond-reblogs @halvoric @pcktknife @readingsquotes @bellybuttonblue2 @andiv3r-reblogging @sillyseer @cloudedcari @stealthjet @pinnyy @sivavakkiyar @chronicowboy @bi-worm @ydic74the @amorosebeing @golvio @nb-marceline @tachycardial @cicadaland @manletwizard @2blushie @antiauteur @pompompotato @purpupa @cherrysnax @autisticmudkip @kalosbian @wakimakiplus @w0rld0flight @evileyeamulet @justsomeoneunordinary @i-think-i-will-watch-leverage @ollie-ollie-oxenfreee @baefikre @crownedscribe @2kbloodsucker @crow-thing @sanfranlvrs @acehimbo @teortoise @pathogenic @stump-not-found @ddeck @stagbeetleboy @sketiana @trendytransgender

#jay.error #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #i stand with palestine #from the river to the sea #palestinian aid #verified fundraiser

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dannyriccsystem · 2 months ago

Note

omfg the esteban fic was so funny for no reason 😭 could you maybe do smth like that with ollie? or maybe lando:3

your fics are too funny i love them all 😭🫶

YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN, BABY.

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Summary: Turns out the most avid Lando fanpage around is actually… Dating him?!

Warnings: Suggestive, not proofread that’s embarrassing

Featuring: Lando Norris x Reader

REQUEST OPEN! CHECK HERE FOR MORE INFO

I decided to go with Lando because I don’t write him much and I love him, but if you’d like one with Ollie as well, just let me know!

lando

liked by lanfanln4 and others

lando nailed it in pic 10

tagged oscarpiastri, ashjbibby, mclaren, f1

—

lanfanln4 - I squealed when I saw the second slide

lanfanln4 - 👅👅👅👅

lanfanln4 - BROOO the screen is STICKY

lanfanln4 - Can I get you pregnant

lanfanln4 - I’ll make it work baby just one chance

username1 - Y/N has a lot to say

username2 - She’s certainly persistent, we can give her that

username3 - It’s lowkey annoying

> lanfanln4 - OH WHO IS YOU?!

lnfour - the knit pics I just posted slap

♥︎ by author

lnfournation - One day we’ll get here before Y/N

♥︎ by author

lanfanln4 - Keep trying

lanfanln4 - You. Me. Dinner. What u say?

♥︎ by author

lando - I don’t even know what you look like 🤔

> username4 - Oh God

lanfanln4

liked by username1 and others

lanfanln4 Well now you know :)

tagged lando

—

username5 - WOAH WAIT HEAR ME OUT

♥︎ by author

username6 - Hey gorgeous… Leans on expensive formula one car

lanfanln4 - Eww dni unless you’re Lando Norris

> username6 - I actually am him and also I’m 6’4 and a feminist so

♥︎ by author

username7 - You’re so pretty Y/N!

♥︎ by author

friend.user1 - Lucky man…

♥︎ by author

lando - So about that dinner date…

♥︎ by author

lanfanln4 - 😍😍😍

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆

Y/N and Lando’s relationship was never inherently secret, it was just never announced to the public. If you scrolled back on her fan page, you’d see a lot of pictures she had posted of him. Fans had even encountered the two together before, but were too entranced by meeting their idol to realize how their hands were intertwined or how they were clearly walking away from a date.

It was somewhat convenient to not have a camera pointed in her face 24/7, and cheer on her boyfriend from the sidelines. They hadn’t even discussed making a statement about it, because they were comfortable where they were.

Tonight, though, their social batteries were low. That fancy dinner he promised turned into an agreement to order in pizza from a locally owned shop and watch a movie in sweatpants and hoodies. The night went from laughter about some random film they found for free to Lando’s soft snores as the TV autoplayed the next film on the list.

They fell asleep on the couch, limbs tangled up and chests rising and falling in sync.

lando

liked by lanfanln4 and others

lando sweatin for szn 7

tagged papsc1, ashjbibby

—

username8 - here before Y/N button 👉

lanfanln4 - NOO NO DELETE THIS NOW

lanfanln4 - WOOF WOOF

lanfanln4 - I can seriously bark

lnfour - last slide is me when I saw you dropped a new LandoLog

♥︎ by author

lanfanln4 - It’s all over the screen

username9 - Fans like you are seriously gross

> lanfanln4 - Good thing I’m not a fan, I’m his girlfriend

♥︎ by author

> username9 - Get a life 🙄

> username10 - He liked her comment, is this real?

lanfanln4

liked by mclaren and others

lanfanln4 - Helloo handsome! Photo credits : me 😎

tagged lando

—

username11 - This is getting kind of gross

username12 - Why are all Lando fangirls such weirdos

username13 - It’s not really that funny anymore

mclaren - Send us that first one! 🧡

♥︎ by author

lanfanln4 - yes momma mclaren

username10 - GUYS CALL ME CRAZY BUT I THINK THEY’RE DATING?

♥︎ by author

username14 - Okay. You’re crazy

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆

lando

liked by lanfanln4 and others

lando she’s my girlfriend suckers!

tagged lanfanln4

—

lanfanln4 - HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA REF

♥︎ by author

lanfanln4 - HI HANDSOME

♥︎ by author

lanfanln4 - ILY!!

♥︎ by author

lando - Ily2 🤤

mclaren - One of our many paddock princesses!

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - Y/N reveal

♥︎ by author

lando - beautiful isn’t it

username10 - TOLD Y’ALL

lanfanln4 - day one supporter

♥︎ by author

username15 - really..? HER?

username16 - Y’all never have anything nice to say. She’s stunning

username17 - THIS IS SO FUNNY I LOVE Y/N

username6 - hello I am Lando that is my beautiful girlfriend

lanfanln4 - You’re funny I’m gonna follow you home

♥︎ by author

lando - I don’t remember saying this 🤔

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 smau #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #lando imagine #lando fluff #lando #lando fanfic #lando x you #lando norris x reader

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notarmedandnotdangerous · 17 days ago

Note

hi,, if u want to write it ofc, would love to see camboy reader absolutely destroying bucky by riding him. love your writing btw keep it up !!

HELL YEAH! i love this 🙏 thank youu for the req. and thank youu im glad u enjoy my writing :)

+18 mdni! faceless desire; a fic where bucky finds out about reader's little secret

cw: power bottom!reader, service top!bucky, cocky!bucky, dumbification, use of toys (plug), use of 'babydoll', use of shitty usernames, stream chat, and shitty usernames mentioned, voyeurism (?), overstimulation, riding, anal sex (reader r!), bucky has a degradation, and humiliation kink, cum eating, bucky passes out from overstimulation

word count: >4.4k

!! @swiftie-fault @ordelixx

[1] [2] [3] [4]

-------------------------------------------------------

the camera clicked on in soft lighting, your bed was framed perfectly, the angle of the camera low, just enough to hide your faces. you were already on screen, lounging like a fucking temptress.

“good evening, i hope everyone’s been doing well.” you leaned forwards, reading out the comments.

user 1:

‘so.. any special surprises for us tonight?’

“hm, maybe.” you shrugged.

user 2:

‘OH MY GOD’

user 3:

‘RETURN OF BANDAGE GUY??’

“alright alright, since you’re so eager to know.”’ you tilted the camera, revealing bucky sitting nearby.

user 4:

‘we’ve been waiting FOREVER.’

“back by popular demand.” he walked over to sit next to you on the bed.

“oh they wanted you back alright. feels like they love you more than they love me.” you chuckled, then leaned closer to the camera. “but you wouldn’t do that to me, would you? no way.”

user 5:

‘such a tease’

user 6:

‘we love you both equally!!!!’

user 7:

‘is that jealousy??’

“me? jealous? never. i know what belongs to me, and i’m sure he knows it too, don’t you, baby?”

“no one else gets to have you the way that i do.” he spoke, leaning forward to kiss at your neck while he reads the comments with you.

“you’re all talk now, just don’t forget what to say when i tease you, baby.”

“hey! i don’t forget what to say, i just.. uh..” bucky paused, looking away, before continuing. “i just think before i speak.”

“sure, definitely didn’t buffer just now.”

user 8:

‘they’re so cute when they mess up on live.’

user 9:

‘bandage guy!! do u think u can outlast charmeur?’

“outlast..? oh yeah, i definitely could.” he huffed with confidence.

“you really think that..?” you tilted your head at him.

“definitely. i’m the giver, i’m the one in control here. you’ll be the one needing a break before i’m even warmed up.” bucky smirked.

“you’re saying as if you know what you’re up against. just because i’m receiving doesn’t mean i’m not running the show.”

“running the show? don’t make me laugh. i’ve got stamina for days, babydoll.” he mouthed at your neck once more. he laid back against the pillows, arms folded behind his head. he even grinned when you climbed into his lap, hands braced on his chest.

user 10:

‘the cocky energy is EVERYTHING to me’

user 11:

‘bandage guy is about to get humbled so bad..’

“okay, enough talk. why don’t you prove it?” you turned around, facing bucky now, then reached back, and pulled out the plug you had in beforehand. then you sank down, all at once. there was no prep, no warning, just the slick drag of your hole swallowing him.

user 13:

‘good GOD the way he sinks down like he’s done this a hundred times.’

user 14:

‘@user13: hundred? try hundreds.’

“fuck, look at you. could fuck you all night like this.” he sighed.

you didn’t say anything. you raised an eyebrow at him, and grinded down, just a deep, slow roll of your hips, like you knew exactly where his sensitivity was hiding.

“fuck.” his smugness shattered instantly. “shit, babydoll, you feel so- fuck, you going to move?”

you exhaled slowly, rolled your hips, and began to ride. it wasn’t frantic, just deadly precise.

bucky’s hips jerked immediately, but you just lifted up, and slammed back down with brutal force.

“don’t move unless i tell you to.” you didn’t even pause to breathe, just started riding. there was no slow rhythm, no easing in. it was just a full, relentless bounce.

the first few thrusts were deep, slow, and punishing. your thighs flexed as your back arched. you fucked yourself on his cock like you were used to this.

that was the moment bucky realised something was wrong.

because you didn’t hesitate, didn’t grind, didn’t bounce slow, you rode. full body thrusts, power in every motion.

you circled your hips, and he choked.

“slow down, babydoll.. fuck-”

user 12:

‘oh he’s done for.’

“thought you were going to fuck me all night, huh?” you didn’t stop, just slammed back down, using his cock like a fucking toy, bouncing hard enough to make the bed creak, driving every single inch into yourself with brutal force. “you don’t even know what you’re in for.” you spoke, while your own cock slapped against your stomach, untouched.

bucky mewled as his smug smile started to falter.

“fucked me stupid last time, mmh, had the whole chat calling me yours.” your voice was sharp now, sweat beading on your skin as you slammed back down. “about time they see who really runs the show, don’t you think?”

bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, as his hands twitched, desperate to grab onto your waist, but you slapped his hands away.

“no touching. you last, if you can.” you winked at him, and it only made everything worse for him.

“you- fuck, you’re moving like.. uugh..” he groaned.

you stopped suddenly.

“what?” he blinked.

you reached into the drawer of your nightstand, then held the cock ring up between two fingers.

user13:

‘uh oh bandage guy is done for.’

“no. fuck, that’s not funny.” his eyes widened immediately.

you looked down at him.

“please, don’t.” his breath stuttered.

user14:

‘he looks so scared, lol’

“don’t? you know what it does.”

bucky nodded frantically, adam’s apple bobbing hard as he swallowed.

“that’s exactly why.. i can’t take it.. not- fuck, not tonight, not if you do that, please.”

your hand trailed down his chest. you didn’t speak, just waited.

and he broke.

“please, just don’t use that..” he whispered, voice cracking. “you can gag me, fuck, i’ll even let you use the muzzle- just please, not this..”

user15:

‘not the muzzle OMGG he’s so gone’

user16:

‘THIS.’

“you’d rather be gagged than have this used on you?”

bucky nodded.

user17:

‘oh he’s DONE LMAO’

user18:

‘the way my legs went NUMB.’

“yeah, well.. i’m too stubborn to quit early.. but, please, anything except for that. i’ll be good, i-i promise. i’ll take everything you give me, please, babydoll.”

“it makes you sensitive, makes you last longer, cum harder, and you know i like that.” you spoke, running a finger down his sternum.

“please, don’t make me, i-i won’t survive it.. i’ll actually pass the fuck out!”

“you’re already dripping, look at this weepy cock, hm?”

“no- no, i won’t last, i’ll break, please don’t.. ”

“you’re scared because you know exactly what it does to you. that’s why you don’t want it.”

“i’m.. scared that it’ll break me. but this doesn’t mean i’m giving up- i’m going to still make you work for every damn second, even if i’m begging..”

you fidgeted with the cock ring.

“please, i don’t want that, please.. i’ll cum when you say.. i swear!”

“too bad then.” you slipped the ring on him. “you’re going to wear this now.”

the slight pressure sent a fresh wave of heat, and tension through bucky.

“wa- wait, fuck, i-i’m close..”

“yeah, exactly. you’re not going to be able to stop me now.”

the moment the ring was snug around his base, he let out the most wrecked sound.

you just climbed back on, lined him up with your entrance, and dropped.

bucky fucking screamed.

“i’m going to- fuck, i’m going to lose it..” he bit his lip, a shaky sound escaping him.

you braced yourself, pressing your hands to his chest, and rode hard. your moans were low, satisfied. you weren’t being fucked, you were using him to get yourself off, and he fucking loved it.

bucky was sweating profusely. he looked up at you, glassy-eyed.

“please, fuck- please, let me- mmh! l-let me cum-”

you leaned forward again.

“you should’ve known better. i let you fuck me last time. this time, you’re mine.” you practically growled into his ear. “they’re paying to watch me ride, so you’re going to sit there, and take it until they say stop.”

bucky tried to match your rhythm, tried to thrust, tried to participate by lifting his hips, but you slammed back down, and he let out a near pornographic moan.

“no. you don’t move. you take it.” you spoke, while dragging your nails up his chest. your back arches, letting the whole stream witness the motion of your body as you rode him to oblivion. you grabbed your phone, turning on the chat on your phone so you could see if the commenters had any requests.

user 15 (tipped $25!):

grab his throat, tell him he’s lucky to be used.

you did as you were told, who were you to deny them?

“you’re so lucky, you know that? lucky you get to have my hole, so fucking lucky to be used by me.” you whispered into his ear, all while your hand wrapped around his throat, and dragged him forward for a kiss.

user 19:

‘THE ANGLE. I CAN’T BREATHE.’

user 20:

‘is it possible to vote to ruin him twice? is that allowed?’

you laughed, breathy, and cruel.

“they want me to break you, baby. want to see how many times you can cum before you start crying.”

bucky’s chest rises, and falls rapidly now, low whimpers getting caught in his throat.

“look at you, all that talk, and now you’re fucking whining under me.” you panted, hips slamming down mercilessly. “what happened to all that confidence, hm?”

his hands clutched at the sheets. he was right there, cock red, and angry, balls drawn up tight, all ruined by the pressure of the ring. he could barely breathe, let alone think.

“y-you- fuck-” he gasped.

“oh no, don’t get shy now.” your voice was mocking. “where’d all that mouth go, hm?” you slowed your pace, not to give him relief, but to grind down deep, letting his cock brush against that spot inside of you, again, and again.

“please- i can’t!” his eyes rolled back.

“you can.” you leaned in closer. “you’re nothing but a fucking toy right now, a cock to sit on, and you fucking love it.”

bucky choked out a moan as his hips jerked helplessly.

“bet you thought i’d ride you all soft, and sweet, didn’t you?” you whispered, grinding down hard enough to make him scream. “look at you now, red-faced, fucking pathetic.” you bit into his neck, leaving a dark bruise there. “you’re not fucking me, i’m using you.”

“please, please- l-let me cum.. i’ll do anything y-you ask-”

“you don’t get to beg.” you said coldly. “your job is to lie there all pretty, and take it like the desperate little bitch that you are.”

user21:

‘you didn’t have to murder him live like this wtf’

user22:

‘i’ve never wanted to bottom in my life until this exact moment.’

bucky’s whole body arched up, mouth falling open, and moaning so loud it echoed. his cock twitched violently in the ring, pulsing without release.

you slowed down, and watched his face closely, flushed, trembling, lips parted with a soft, wrecked sound he probably didn’t even mean to make. his eyes rolled back like he was holding on by a thread.

then it hit you.

“oh, you like that.”

his breath hitched.

“no fucking way. you like being talked to like that? being called a desperate little bitch?”

he didn’t answer, but his hips twitched as he let out a soft, shameful whine.

“you’re just a dumb toy to be fucked on, aren’t you?”

bucky shuddered, and he whimpered, embarrassingly loudly, as if the words knocked the air right out of him.

“..holy shit. you’re actually into this.”

the chat went feral.

user23:

‘DID HE JUST MOAN AT THAT.’

user24:

‘that man is going to see god himself and it’s YOUR fault’

user25:

‘he liked that a little too much. ya’ll seeing the way his eyes fucking ROLLED??’

heat bloomed across bucky’s cheeks, spreading like a wildfire, all the way to his chest, and the tips of his ears. he turned his face away, jaw clenched, hands gripping the sheets, as if it could help him ground himself.

then he realised.

the chat.

he forgot for a second. he forgot you weren’t the only one watching.

his eyes snapped open, he looked absolutely mortified.

“oh my god.” he whispered, burying his face into his palms. “they heard that- fuck, they heard me-” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as if he could disappear. his hips twitched again, his body betraying his mind.

“shit. you’re enjoying this.”

bucky’s thighs squeezed together instinctively, and he shook his head in denial as he let out another broken whine.

“oh baby,” you cooed, trailing a finger up his trembling stomach. “they’re watching you fall apart. you can’t even hide it anymore.”

the chat, of course, was unhinged as always.

user26:

‘I FUCKING KNEW IT.’

user27:

‘HUMILIATION KINK CONFIRMED’

user28:

‘atp he’s going to cum from the embarrassment alone istg’

user29:

‘ABSOLUTE CINEMA’

you leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear.

“look at you, trying so hard to pretend you’re not getting off on it, but you’re fucking shaking.”

bucky whimpered, his fists curling into the sheets, muscles tense as if he was holding back from breaking.

you cupped his jaw, and turned his attention towards the camera even as he tried, and failed to resist. the stream didn’t show his face, but his jaw, and mouth was visible.

“don’t hide now. they heard you, saw you, and they know exactly what you fucking are.”

he shook his head weakly, but his cock twitched inside you, still throbbing from the pressure of the ring around it.

“say it, tell them what you are.” you commanded, as if it wasn’t the most humiliating thing ever.

bucky hesitated, for a while, and you slowed down, letting him speak.

“i-i’m.. i’m nothing.. without.. mmh, without you.. just- uuh, your useless, needy fucktoy.”

user30:

‘HE SAID IT HE FUCKING SAID IT’

user31:

‘the way his voice cracked. he’s NOT okay’

user32:

‘HOW IS THIS REAL’

you leaned down again, speeding up.

“still holding on?” you murmured. “you look like you’re about to lose your mind.”

bucky whimpered, barely able to nod.

you dragged a single finger down his chest, and he gasped.

“okay, want to cum?”

“yes, b-babydoll- please, please-”

“you.. mmh.. you better say it right.”

“please- l-let me cum, i’ll be good, p-please..” his voice broke.

“then ask them.” you halted your movements.

“w-what..?” he blinked at you, dazed.

“the viewers, ask them if you can cum.”

bucky froze.

“they’ve watched you fall apart the entire time. might as well let them decide if you’ve earned it.”

“i can’t possibly-”

“it’s either you ask them, or i keep you like this all night.”

there was a long pause, so long that the viewers thought they were buffering.

finally, he turned his head towards the camera, the angle tilted just enough to show his puffy, bruised lips.

“please..?” he whispered. “can i.. cum? i need it.. been so good already..” he spoke in a whiny tone.

you glanced at the screen. the flood of comments was immediate, violent even.

user33 (tipped $20!):

‘let him fucking cum he’s shaking already!’

user34 (tipped $35!):

‘NO. edge him longer, he fucking loves it.’

user35 (tipped $50!):

‘please he’s been so good..’

user36 (tipped $100!):

‘keep him begging.’

bucky’s breath hitched as he watched the comments flood in, praying that someone would be merciful enough to donate enough to allow him to cum.

“you seeing this? they’re fighting over whether you deserve to cum.”

“please, guys?.. i need it- please, i’ll do anything.. swear on it..”

“hm, i don’t know. one side’s got a real strong case for denial.”

user37 (tipped $25!):

‘let him cum his thighs are twitching’

user38 (tipped $15!):

‘imagine how loud he’d be if you let him..’

user39 (donated $150!):

‘ok but what if he gets to cum just a little, and you ruin it halfway?’

you smirked upon seeing the $150 tip. then you rode him again.

bucky sobbed, eyes glassy, words slurred like he couldn’t even string simple sentences together.

“p-please.. i can’t- c-can’t even fucking think.. babydoll, please- l-let me..”

you could feel how close he was. his cock throbbed helplessly inside you, thanks to the help of the cock ring.

“fuck, fuck, baby.. i-i’m going to cum, please..”

“go on.” you leaned forward, dragging your nails down his chest. he was just about to cum, before your hand reached down between your bodies, found the base of his cock, and twisted the cock ring tighter.

instantly, bucky choked on a scream. his whole body tensed under you, back arching as his orgasm slammed into him. his cock throbbed once, twice, before it stopped. nothing came out. his eyes went wide, and he started bawling.

“no no no- fuck, you ruined it!” he sobbed, tears staining his rosy cheeks. “it hurts.. s-so bad.. mmh..”

user40:

‘his hips jerking so pathetically.. HE’S GONE’

user41:

‘that was SO fucking evil’

user42 (tipped $65!):

‘best ruin EVER’

you kept riding him, like nothing had happened.

and bucky? poor, wrecked bucky was losing his patience.

“you- you’re fucking evil..” he slurred, voice hoarse. “fucking bitch.. you think this.. is funny? you think it’s hot? making me- fuck, beg just to deny me anyway?”

“you didn’t beg, just cried.”

his eyes narrowed, lips curling.

“this isn’t cute.. fuck, think i’m just going to sit here, and take it like some pathetic-”

you clenched around him mid sentence, cutting him off.

bucky choked on his breath, head dropping back against the pillows.

“still got something to say?”

“yeah.. f-fuck you.. i should flip you over, make you b-beg.. fucking ruin you-”

another grind. slow, and deep.

“you were saying?”

his hips jerked upwards, trying to sit up, to grab your hips, and flip you over.

you only watched in amusement.

his arms gave out halfway. his entire body collapsed back into the mattress with a helpless whimper.

“fuck- fuck! i- i can’t.. i hate you..” he snapped.

user43:

‘he’s trying to be tough, so adorable.’

user44:

‘he’s SO MAD and so wrecked it’s perfect’

you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“you going to fight me, baby? hm? flip me over, and take what you want?”

bucky tried again, straining against you with shaking arms.

“shit- no.. fuck you-”

you reached down, and grabbed his face by the chin.

“look at you, all bark, and no bite. want to say that again, tough guy?”

“..fuck you.” he spat, but there wasn’t any hate behind it, just desperation. “you’re a fucking sadist..”

user45:

‘he’s going to cry again I JUST KNOW IT’

you started to ride him again, slow, and deep, letting him feel every inch as he whimpered under you.

“please- babydoll, i-i can’t do this.. please.. mmh..”

“that’s what i thought.” you whispered, sucking a mark into the side of his neck.

his breath caught, and his eyes rolled.

you finally leaned back, lifting your hips just enough to slip the cock ring off of him. and then you dropped your hips, hard, and he came, instantly.

“there we go, happy?”

he couldn’t even reply, just dazed from finally cumming.

“say thank you.” you cupped his face.

“t-thank.. mmh.. thank you.. so.. fucking much..”

bucky was a mess.

and you didn’t stop.

his face was red, and wet, vision blurry with tears. his orgasm had left him in shambles.

you kept rolling your hips, slowly, and relentlessly. you weren’t even touching him anywhere, just riding, using him like a toy.

“please.. not agai- aah.. n-not again..”

you tilted your head.

“not what again?”

“i came, babydoll- i fucking.. uugh.. gave it to you-”

you just smiled.

“mhm, i know, and you’re still hard. look at that.”

bucky whined, broken.

“no- no! please- please, i can’t.. do it again..”

user46:

‘how is he still hard.’

user47:

‘moral of the story, NEVER act tough with charmeur.’

he turned his head towards the camera again.

“p-please.. guys.. mmh, m-make him stop..” he begged, voice in an unusually high tone. “i c-came already.. you saw!.. mm, i’ll lose my fucking mind, please..”

you leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“you want them to help you? poor thing, they paid for this.”

bucky shook his head, chest heaving.

“please, please- i swear, fuck, stop- stop riding.. i’ll do anything- please, i can’t cum again-”

you rocked your hips again, long, and slow, pressing against the spot he felt it most.

user48 (tipped $250!):

‘let him cum, but make him say thank you to us.’

“just one more, baby, they want you to finish.”

bucky’s breath hitched, there was no way that he would ever want to disappoint the viewers.

“but, there’s one thing.”

“w-what?” he blinked up at you.

“you have to say thank you.”

he whimpered.

“look at you,” you whispered, still grinding down slow. “fuck.. i’m going to cum”

he moaned into his arm, hips jerking involuntarily with each roll of your hips.

“going cum.. again, babydoll.. i-i can’t.. so much..”

“you will.” you gave him a few bounces, and he was cumming again.

you finally came with a strangled groan a few minutes later, whining, and grinding down on him. you tried to lift yourself off, but his arms tightened around your waist.

bucky didn’t know how to stop. he had already came twice, and still he clung to you like he’d die without you.

“please, just- mmh, one more..”

you had meant to pull off, catch your breath, and soothe him back down. but the desperation in his voice ignited something within you.

“you want more? ..after all that?”

he nodded, eyes glassy with tears. he was a little drunk on the high, still trembling.

user49:

‘AFTER ALL THAT??’

user50:

‘this man has ZERO survival instincts’

user51:

‘his dumb little ‘please’ just took several years off my lifespan’

you didn’t say another word, just lined yourself up, and slammed back down.

bucky screamed. he arched hard into the mattress, arms tightening around your back, sucking, and licking marks into your skin just to ground himself.

“mmph- fuck, fuck!” he sobbed while you rode him mercilessly.

the rhythm wasn’t gentle, it was brutal, and precise. your thighs flexed with every bounce, hands pressing against him like he was just a mount.

“you wanted this, fuck. you begged for it, so take it.”

bucky moaned into your neck, incoherent now. his hands clawed at your back, fingernails dragging down, and leaving red marks on your skin.

“i-i can’t, fuck.. mmh..”

“shh, you can. you’re crying for it.”

he was. his cheeks were wet, stained with tears. he was leaking, his cock had practically nothing left to give, just drooling pre-cum helplessly.

“don’t forget to thank them.”

he started to ramble.

“t-thank you.. so.. much for.. being here, ugh.. i-i’m so grateful, i’m.. so sorry.. fuck. thank you.. for putting u-up with me.. being such a fucking mess..” he whined. ‘i-i’m.. so full.. of thanks.. mmh, thank you..’

user52:

‘I’M GOING TO THROW MY PHONE’

user53:

‘this is better than therapy’

user54:

‘so so so good’

user55:

‘i’m going to knit him a sweater or something istg i feel emotionally responsible now’

user56:

‘this MIGHT be the best stream of all time’

you kept riding him until you came with a whimper, clenching so hard around him until he came as well.

bucky didn’t know who he was anymore, just sobbing into your shoulder, cock soft, but leaking from the multiple orgasms.

you weren’t even out of breath, just panting lightly, sweating.

user57:

‘HE’S CRYINGGG’

user58:

‘and he thought he was the dom’

user59:

‘i can only imagine the mess inside charmeur rn holy fuck’

“poor thing, you came so fucking hard you forgot how to speak, is that it?” you whispered. “you were so cocky earlier, saying you were going to fuck me dumb.”

bucky whimpered, he couldn’t speak, not when he was so fucked out. he couldn’t even look at you.

you slid off of his cock, letting his cum drip out of you as you sighed.

he saw it, and his whole body twitched. he tried his best to move, but all he could do was grab onto you.

you had expected him to collapse, instead, he pulled you towards him, flipping himself over on his stomach, while you laid against the pillows.

“l-let.. let me taste.. a little..

“that how you ask?”

“please..? been good..”

user60:

‘HE’S BEGGING TO EAT HIS OWN CUM OUT OF CHARMEUR’

user61:

‘YESSS BLESS’

and then his tongue was on you.

it was lazy, and sloppy. bucky moaned into you like it made him feel good. spit dribbled down his chin as his nose bumped against you every few seconds like he forgot where he was going. his movements were uncoordinated, like his body couldn’t keep up with how badly he wanted to taste you.

“lazier than usual.. you’re that wrecked?”

he hummed softly, the noise vibrating against your rim.

“know your place now, don’t you?”

user62:

‘i’ve never wanted to be degraded this bad in my life’

user63:

‘this man is GONE’

he moaned into you. his cock twitched helplessly, and he didn’t do anything about it, didn’t care.

“you’re not even awake anymore, just a dumb, whimpering mess.” you let him stay there, let him continue ‘cleaning’ you up, until his breath evened out, and he went still, face buried in between your legs.

he passed out.

in between your legs.

user64:

‘he PASSED OUT??’

user65:

‘came so hard he blacked out. fuck.’

you chuckled.

“he did so good, didn’t he?”

user66:

‘IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION?? YES??’

user67:

‘thank you for sharing him with us.’

“so quiet now.” you sighed. “but you all liked it better when he was sobbing, didn’t you?”

user68:

‘you made him sob, and say thank you. what do you expect from us.’

user69:

‘i came when he cried actually’

user70:

‘i’d pay to worship him’

“of course you would. you like him more than me.” you paused, grabbing the camera, and positioning it so that it got a view of bucky’s spit-shiny, and bruised lips. “you forget who’s toy he is.”

user71:

‘FUCK’

user72:

‘ok fine sorry sir’

user73:

‘i just came from your voice’

“he’s sleeping with me tonight. still drooling, still mine.”

click. you ended the stream.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #x male reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #bottom bucky barnes #sub bucky barnes #top male reader #dom male reader #buckfics #bottom male reader #sub male reader #top bucky barnes #dom bucky barnes

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milliondollarbaby87 · 2 years ago

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Scrapper (2023) Review

Having to deal with the death of her mother, 12 year old Georgie has been living alone in her London flat and covering it up but when her father Jason arrives everything is about to change. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Continue reading Untitled

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drfruitcake · 27 days ago

Text

Left On Read

Michael Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader

Rating: Explicit / MDNI (language & smut) Word count: ~4,200 Tags: reader insert, no use of y/n, colleagues to lovers, mutual pining, slight age gap (29F and 50M), smut, explicit sexual content, unprotected p in v, oral sex (F receiving), no beta

Summary: You accidentally send Dr. Robby a nude photo. You both spend the day spiraling out over it — and then you spend the night together.

Notes: This is literally just an excuse for some shameless smut. I am not a health care professional, so please forgive any medical inaccuracies.

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

Michael Robinavitch nearly dropped his phone, which could have been a disastrous fumble, given he was presently stepping into the elevator of his apartment building.

It was nearly 7 a.m. and far too early for a text like that. Especially from you, the fifth-year surgical resident he had grown to know quite well; the one who was sharp and witty, poised and composed, always one of the smartest in the room. Though you were two decades younger than him, he viewed you as a colleague worthy of admiration and respect.

He certainly did not view you as someone who sent 7 a.m. nudes accompanied by the caption, “You coming tonight?”

Michael stared in disbelief at the text thread, void of any coherent response. His brain seemed to stutter over the erotic image of you, posing in your bedroom mirror, fresh out of the shower with nothing on, your lips curved in a sly smirk as if you knew you were going to inflict absolute chaos that day. Of course, you didn’t know that the senior attending of the ER would be on the receiving end of that chaotic missile you casually dropped with one tap of the Send button.

Michael blinked in disbelief as the elevator reached the bottom floor, its doors gliding open while his eyes remained glued to the sexuality splayed across his phone screen. It wasn’t until someone stepped into the elevator that Michael snapped from his trance.

He scrambled to swipe the image from his screen in a clash of guilt and shame before he scurried from the elevator to head to work.

A sudden tightness surged within his throat as the shame snowballed. Something felt morally wrong about seeing you that way. Sure, Michael had pictured how you looked beneath your scrubs on countless occasions, but that was a secret meant only for the filthiest depths of his private mind. This vision was now a mutual thread between the two of you — one he hadn’t asked for. Not that he was complaining.

The truth was Michael had a painful attraction to you, and seeing you in your most intimate form wasn’t going to help him overcome it.

But clearly that picture had been meant for someone else, right? The previous texts before you sent that dastardly photo were your brags about beating Michael in your fantasy football league that week. There had been no exchange to prompt such an obscene display of intimacy, no indication of any attraction or desire – though it certainly existed.

Michael dragged a hand over his face as he pocketed his phone with no response. What could he possibly say to that, especially when he couldn’t be sure that photo was meant for him?

Meanwhile, you strolled into the surgical floor of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center none the wiser to your little mishap. Once you removed your jacket and put your purse in your locker, you decided to check your phone one final time before the start of your shift.

You frowned in disappointment at the blank screen. Surely Rodney, your six-week situationship, would have at least replied to your risqué text with a heart-eyes emoji.

When you opened up your message threads, your stomach sank — and you wanted to sink to your knees, or perhaps all the way into the earth.

“Fuuuuuck,” you hissed as you realized your mistake. The worst part was the “Read 6:55 AM” below your message, sent to the hot senior attending of the ER you’d likely have to face before the day’s end. “No no no,” you groaned as the fear and mortification bloomed throughout your body.

You considered marching up to the roof of the hospital and flinging yourself to the streets below. But the worst part was, if you somehow managed to survive such a fall, Michael would be one of the first people you’d see when they inevitably scraped you off the sidewalk and hauled you into the ER. And then he would have seen you naked and brain dead all in the same day.

You decided to avoid the ER at all costs.

Of course, that vow was short-lived as soon as Dr. Walsh sent you down there for a consult. You held your breath the entire elevator ride down, your heart rattling within your ribcage as you silently prayed Dr. Robby had the day off. You exhaled and thanked every higher power you didn’t believe in when you didn’t see him at the nurses’ station.

That gratitude was fleeting. Two steps into Room 2 and you damn near stopped dead in your tracks when you spotted Dr. Robby standing behind Dr. Mohan. You locked eyes before you could avert your gaze and the mutual realization of your shared situation sent your nervous system into overdrive. You couldn’t read him, which unnerved you even more.

What if he thought that photo had been meant for him? What if he thought you were some kind of sexual deviant? What if he’d lost all respect for you? What if he’d shown that photo to your colleagues?

All of your anxieties mingled until you became acutely aware that there was a wounded patient in front of you.

“What have we got?” you croaked, tearing your eyes from Dr. Robby.

“Gerard Milligan,” Samira answered. “Coworker says he fell about 10 feet off a roof and landed on a fence post. Vitals are good.”

You examined poor Gerard Milligan and ordered the team to take him up for surgery, but it was painfully clear you were distracted. So was Dr. Robby.

You snuck a sideways glance at him, your eyes darting away as soon as you realized he was watching you. You felt certain your skin would catch fire beneath his gaze. Part of you wished it would.

“You alright?” Samira asked with worried eyes as the room cleared out. You watched Dr. Robby return to the desk to chat with Dana before you sucked your top row of teeth.

“I fucked up,” you said quietly, your lips thinning as you tried to decide how to reveal to your friend that you’d mistakenly sent a nude photo to her boss.

“With the patient?”

“No. With Dr. Robby.”

“How so?” Samira studied you with curious eyes.

“I accidentally sent him something,” you continued carefully. “Something he wasn’t meant to see.”

“What are you talking about?”

You heaved a sigh. “I accidentally sent Dr. Robby a nude.”

Samira’s eyes doubled in size. “What?!”

“I meant to send it to Rodney – that guy I told you about – the one I’ve hooked up with a few times,” you explained. “But I accidentally sent it to Dr. Robby this morning.”

“What’d he say?”

“He left me on read – no response!” You could tell Samira was fighting a laugh. “Don’t laugh, this is serious!”

“You probably left the poor guy speechless,” Samira mused. “He probably doesn’t know what to do with all that.”

“It’s not funny! What if he thinks I meant to send it to him?”

“Well, would that be the worst thing?” Samira asked with a pointed stare. You’d been close friends for four years and she’d picked up on your crush on Michael ages ago, not that you ever discussed it.

“Yes!” you hissed. “Because it’s not like he’s into me! He probably thinks I’m a freak.”

“Maybe he’s into freaky shit.”

“Be for real!”

“I am,” Samira said. “Everyone down here in the ER thinks he’s down bad for you.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Think about it,” Samira said matter-of-factly. “He’s always going on about how brilliant you are, and how he wishes you would have considered emergency med. And he’s always eyeing you with that sad, wistful stare. Plus you know more about football than him, and I think that secretly turns him on.”

“Oh, stop!”

“I’m just saying,” Samira laughed. “I’m sure he’s not upset about receiving that photo.”

“I want to die,” you groaned as you followed Samira from the room.

“Well, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Avoid the ER for the rest of my life.”

“Or maybe you should just talk to him about it.”

“Or maybe I could quit my job and move across the country.”

“Hey, sweetheart!” Dana called toward you. You swore under your breath before turning to offer Dana a smile, your eyes determined to avoid Dr. Robby. “How you been? Had a good a weekend?”

“It was good,” you offered casually as you strode toward the nurses’ station. “Uneventful.”

“Heard you kicked Dr. Robby’s ass in fantasy football.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Yeah,” you managed with a breathy laugh. “Not like it was hard.”

You could feel Dr. Robby’s eyes fixated on you. Was he thinking about that photo right now? Was he disturbed or disgusted? Was he disappointed in you? Or was there a chance he was turned on?

“Pretty easy to rack up a win when you’ve got Saquon Barkley on your roster,” Michael said. You shrugged a nonchalant shoulder and finally dared to meet his eyes. Their intensity made your breath hitch.

“Draft better next year,” you said simply, praying you could keep your cool. Meanwhile, Dana and Samira were watching your exchange as if it were live theatre.

“I’m okay with you beating me as long as it means you beat Langdon,” Michael said. “I can’t stand another year of his insufferable bragging.”

“I’m sure I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure you will.” Something flickered in his eyes as he spoke, rendering you immobile. You couldn’t decipher it, and you didn’t dare provoke it in front of your colleagues.

“Well, I’d better get upstairs,” you finally said, tearing your gaze from Michael to smile at Dana. “Catch up with you later, okay?”

As you disappeared behind the elevator doors, Michael disappeared into the bathroom.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered after splashing cold water on his face. He wasn’t even halfway through his shift and that image of you had him in a chokehold. Michael gripped the edge of the sink and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to ground himself and banish the vision away. Instead, he found himself imagining you in even greater detail.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he hissed as he shook his head.

He couldn’t continue to work like this, but he also couldn’t possibly broach the subject with you. What would he do, waltz up to you and declare, “Hey, nice photo!” That was a sure trip to human resources.

He had no choice, he decided, but to continue to pretend as if it hadn’t happened. Eventually, you’d both forget about it, right?

But Michael knew damn well he couldn’t forget about that picture if he tried.

Dr. Walsh didn’t help matters. Despite your protests, she ordered you back down to the ER for another consult in the afternoon. You checked your phone first, expecting to see a reply from Rodney after you sent him the photo, but instead found a message from your best friend from college.

“Check Instagram,” was all her text said. Your heart sank as you opened the app and scrolled through your feed, unsure what you were supposed to be looking for. You stopped mid-scroll when Rodney’s face popped up, your throat tightening as you realized he’d been tagged in a photo by a woman. He stood, smiling with an arm hooked around her waist as she kissed him on the cheek. The caption said, “Celebrating one year with the love of my life!”

“What the fuck,” you groaned in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You tossed your phone into your locker and headed for the ER.

“What have we here?” you asked with feigned composure as you walked into the chaos unfolding within Room 1.

“Two-car MVA,” Samira responded. “The dashboard folded inward and pinned his legs.”

The patient hurled a string of obscenities in pain as he flailed, arms shooting upward. One caught you on the cheek with a closed fist, forcing you backward.

Michael was on you before you could even taste the blood in your mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, a hand finding the small of your back. You felt that more than the sting in your jaw.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you sighed, wincing at the raw cut inside your mouth, where your tooth connected with your inner cheek. “I hate the taste of blood, though.”

“Well, that clears up the vampire rumors,” Michael quipped. Your colleagues vacated the room and wheeled the patient out, leaving just the two of you. You offered him an exasperated smile and he leaned in closer to peer at your cheek.

“I’m fine,” you insisted quietly. “Just a small cut in my mouth.”

“Do you need some gauze? You didn’t bite your tongue, did you?”

“For once, no,” you joked. Michael flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, and you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Listen,” you sighed before you could stop yourself. “About that text…” Michael held his breath. “That was… a really unfortunate and horrifying mistake.”

“It was… certainly an interesting start to my morning,” Michael said carefully. There was a hint of lighthearted jest in his tone, and while you were grateful for his attempt at softening the situation, you were still humiliated.

“I can’t even imagine,” you continued, a flush settling across your features. “I mean, I really am so, so sorry. It was so completely inappropriate and I swear I never would try to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Michael cut in gently. “Really. Forget it happened.”

You paused to catch your breath, your nerves still screaming in despair. “Okay,” you said with a long exhale. “Thanks for, you know, understanding. And I promise to double-check before sending any more texts like that.”

“Good idea,” Michael replied. “I’m sure your boyfriend would appreciate that.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you responded stupidly, before you could stop yourself. “He’s just a guy I was… seeing.”

“Ah, I see.”

“To be honest, this was all for naught. I found out today he has a girlfriend.”

“Ouch. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You breathed a fake laugh, in disbelief at how your day had managed to devolve into such absurdity as you moved to leave the room. “I’d only been seeing him a few weeks. Not a big deal. Anyway, I apologize if I’ve left you permanently scarred for life.”

“Like I said, forget it happened,” Michael said reassuringly as he held the door open for you.

But any chance of him forgetting evaporated when you’d mentioned you didn’t have a boyfriend, and that things had fallen apart with Rodney. Though it was now clear that picture wasn’t intended for him, Michael realized he’d never look at you the same.

He decided he could either be plagued by the omnipresent vision of you looking like absolute sin incarnate, or he could make an effort to put years of distant, desperate desire to bed.

When he ended up loitering on the front steps of your townhouse, you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Dr. Robby?” you asked, slowing your pace as you approached with caution – not because you were fearful of him, but because you were stunned he’d seek you out after you’d essentially sexually harassed him via phone.

“Hey,” was his response.

“What are you-”

“I, uh, just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay. You seemed to have had a rough day.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright,” you answered carefully, your dry mouth a stark contrast to your sweaty palms. “Nothing I won’t get over. You know, beyond the lifetime of embarrassment.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” There was a glitch in his tone; much more confident and dominant than you’d expected. It matched his gaze, which was starting to suffocate you with its intensity. Michael no longer felt like the senior attending of the ER or your colleague. He felt like a man you desperately needed to discover at a much deeper level.

“Do you… do you want to come inside, have a beer?” you asked, silently willing your nerves to develop some semblance of confidence. You wanted to be the fun, sexy version of yourself you’d shown in that photo. But Michael already saw you that way, and he wanted to match it.

“Yeah, alright,” he responded, his voice turning raspier than usual. He stood behind you as you unlocked your front door. You felt idiotic as you nearly fumbled your keys. You were a fucking surgeon, known for your steady hands, and you couldn’t even unlock your goddamn door.

But once inside, Michael gazed at you through heavy lids. You stared back with bedroom eyes and gathered the courage to pull the trigger.

“You know, that photo was meant for someone else,” you started steadily as you kicked your sneakers off and slid out of your jacket. “But I’m curious to know what you thought.”

You watched the muscles shift inside Michael’s throat as he swallowed. “I thought about it all day,” he rasped. “And I’ll probably think about it for a long time.”

“But what did you think?”

“I think that the guy it was meant for is a fucking fool.”

“Oh yeah? To be honest, I’m not thinking about him at all.”

You stepped toward Michael, and the low embers that smoldered between you surged, igniting in an inferno as you kissed him. Your lips crashed hard and his hands grasped at your waist until he was forcing you backward. The backs of your calves met the staircase and you ended up seated on the third step with Michael on top of you. His cock stirred inside his pants.

His lips found your neck and the ache between your thighs became a scalding heat that left you desperate for relief. You helped Michael out of his hoodie and tugged the hem of his shirt overhead, your greedy hands dragging over his torso. But he was even greedier.

He lifted up your own top and you could feel his hands snaking up your back to unhook your bra. He didn’t hesitate to palm your right breast, his left arm supporting himself above you. You were already shifting beneath him, your hips begging his for more.

Robby’s lips planted a stream of kisses from your collarbone to the swell of your breast until his tongue flattened against your nipple. A low hiss escaped your lips as he sucked against your flesh.

You believed this would go quickly; that years of unspoken lust would culminate in the form of something quick, unsophisticated and needy. But Michael didn’t want this to be a fleeting, singular act. He wanted it to become more permanent, more lasting than that fucking photograph.

His hands curled around the waistband of your pants until you were kicking them off, your panties right behind.

Suddenly, the photo from that morning was forgotten. This was far better than pixels on a screen.

Your own hands moved to help Michael from his pants, but he caught them to stop you. Panic mounted in your chest and your brain, convincing you that he changed his mind. Instead, he lowered himself until his knees met the floorboards and his arms were hooked around your thighs.

The moan you’d been desperately trying to suppress finally made itself known, breathy and short as Michael’s tongue met your clit. It sent a surge of arousal through your nerve endings until you were whimpering in submission.

“Robby,” was all you could manage through pitiful panting. He hummed in response, his eyes drifting upward until they were staring in yours. Your fingers gripped the edge of the step.

More moans left your throat as Michael’s tongue flattened itself against your swollen clit, rolling in waves until you could feel the mounting tension in your nerve endings threatening to collapse. Your nails scraped against the wood step, threatening to snap like the taut string of your climax. It strained tighter and tighter, your hips grinding your cunt against Michael’s tongue until you were on the cusp of your reward.

You let out a string of curses as the string snapped, your orgasm rippling over your cunt until your back arched and your legs were fully draped over Michael’s shoulders. He continued the pressure until you were pushing him away, your core too sensitive for any more assault.

Michael placed a swift kiss to your thigh and sat back on his heels as he watched your chest rise and fall in recovery. He couldn’t help but palm the bulge in his pants in arousal.

“Let me,” you croaked as you reached for his belt and helped him shed his remaining clothing.

The wood step was narrow, awkward and painful against Michael’s knees as he settled between your thighs, but he’d rather die than wait another moment to discover how it felt to bury himself within you.

“I can flip over-” you started to offer, but Michael shook his head.

“No,” he commanded. “I want to see you.” You sure as hell weren’t going to protest. “Fuck,” he groaned against your neck as the tip of his cock sank into your slick walls. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The pressure was dizzying as your walls stretched to accommodate him. You could swear you felt every ridge of his cock until he reached the hilt, igniting your nerve endings into overdrive. You couldn’t help but squeeze your cunt tighter around him, drawing a groan from Michael.

His hips retreated and rocked forward, threatening to send your eyes rolling back into your head. You clamped them shut as you focused on the friction within your core and Michael’s shaft dragged through your walls, his tip pressing into the deepest part of you. He gritted his teeth at your tight heat, his cock nudging you closer to the edge with each snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Robby, don’t stop.” You didn’t like to beg, but you were far too drunk on Michael for any grace or dignity. You’d ask him to drag you through Hell if that’s where he was going, just so you could follow him.

The way you pleaded, the way your flushed face strained in desperation, the whines that chorused from your lips – it left Michael in a dilemma straight from his dreams; the need to prolong this to commit it to memory, and the desperation to discover how it’d feel to make you fall apart.

Michael’s rhythm increased, his jaw clenched as he fucked you into the stairs, the step's ledge gouging into your back. It knocked the wind from you and left you gasping and sputtering between broken moans. Michael set a fervid pace, desperate to claim every inch of your inner core. You drove your hips upward until the sounds of smacking skin chorused around you.

“Robby,” you choked again – half plea and half warning. Your nails raked over his shoulders, clawing desperately at a release. His hips drove upward until he was damn near lifting you off the stairs. Your legs locked tighter around Michael as if they were demanding he grant you an orgasm.

He buried his face in your neck. The stairs creaked with each movement in harmonic tandem with the whines from your throat.

“Don’t hold back,” Michael ordered. “Come for me.”

Your walls began to flutter and you bit down hard on your bottom lip. Your whines became strained and painful as control slipped from your grasp and your core. Finally, you unleashed a resounding wail as your climax sent you trembling around Michael’s cock in euphoric waves.

The adrenaline from your high surged through Michael and pulsed through his cock as it throbbed. He barked a sharp grunt as he spilled himself inside you, his hips ending their assault.

Michael’s body went slack. He used the scant remnants of his energy to prop himself up above you, his eyes scanning yours. Their quiet hunger had been replaced with tender affection as you both caught your breaths.

“You okay?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Good.” Your unwieldy and uncomfortable position on the stairs settled with more clarity when Michael winced from the pain in his knees. “I’m getting too old for this,” he groaned as he shifted himself to sit next to you. You lifted an amused eyebrow at him and he chuckled softly. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added. He pressed a kiss to your temple for emphasis.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally asked curiously.

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you reply to me earlier? You left me on read.”

Michael offered you a sheepish grin. “I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted. “I mean, I assumed that picture wasn’t for me. And I was afraid if I responded, you’d think I was being a creep.”

“So you instead chose to say nothing and leave me to spiral out all day?”

Michael laughed and rested a hand on your thigh. “If you keep sending me photos like that, I promise I’ll never leave you on read again.”

#michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch x you #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #the pitt #the pitt smut #dr robby #mdni #michael robinavitch

448 notes · View notes

prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

Text

Home Is Where You Are

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader (Mom!Paige x Mom!Y/N)

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings

Summary: 14 hour shifts, wnba mom and a cute little 7 year old… sounds like home

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @iwasbored-okay

PAIGE’S POV

The sound of little feet hitting the floor makes me pause the show playing in the background—some rerun of Bluey, I think.

Ashton’s been asleep for about two hours now.

We’d done the whole bedtime routine—bath, stories, warm milk, even extra snuggles in his Star Wars blanket.

I’d kissed his forehead and tucked him in like always.

So hearing the pitter-patter of those socked feet at almost 11 p.m. makes my heart race a little.

I sit up, stretching an arm over the side of the bed just in case he makes it all the way to our room.

Sure enough, he appears at the doorway, hair tousled and his little pajama shirt clinging to him like he’d just been sweating in his sleep. His stuffed frog, Franklin, dangles from one hand.

“Mommy?” he says in that sleepy, trembling voice that makes my chest ache.

“I’m here, baby,” I say instantly, scooting back and pulling the blanket up.

He doesn’t hesitate. He practically leaps into the bed and wiggles his way under the covers beside me.

“Did you have a bad dream?” I whisper, brushing some curls off his forehead. He nods and curls into my side like he’s still unsure if I’m real.

“I… I dreamed you were gone,” he mumbles, clutching Franklin tighter.

“Like… both of you were gone, and the house was empty, and it was raining inside. The TV was on but it was all broken.”

I pull him even closer.

“Oh, bubba,” I sigh, kissing the top of his head. “You know we’d never leave you, right?”

“I had to run down the hall to make sure you were still here,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper now. “When I saw you in bed, I felt better.”

I blink a few times, heart full and breaking all at once. “Well, I’m here. And you’re safe. Mama’s just working a long shift tonight, remember?”

He nods again, but he doesn’t let go of me.

“Wanna watch something with me?” I ask softly. “We can put on Disney Junior.”

“Bluey?” he murmurs.

“You got it.”

I grab the remote from the nightstand and flick it to Disney Junior. The screen lights up the room in a soft glow, and Ashton settles in, cheek resting on my arm as the opening theme plays.

“Mama’s gonna be home when you wake up,” I tell him.

“I know,” he whispers, and I hear the exhaustion finally start to take over his voice. “I just wanted to be with you…”

“I always want to be with you too, bub.”

He falls asleep like that, one small hand tucked against my side and the other wrapped around Franklin.

And even though it’s late and I’m a little sore from practice earlier, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Y/N’S POV

The hospital hallway smells like antiseptic and black coffee, and I can’t tell anymore whether the hum in my ears is from the lights or from being on my feet for fourteen straight hours.

It’s 4:47 a.m.

The overnight shift is brutal.

Worse when it’s back-to-back with another one tomorrow. But someone’s gotta do it.

And truth be told—I miss my family so much it aches.

The only reason I got through tonight was because Paige sent a selfie around 9 p.m. of her and Ashton cuddled on the couch, both wearing their Dallas Wings hoodies, eating popcorn and making faces at the camera.

I live for those pictures.

I live for them.

I glance at my phone again while changing out of my scrubs in the locker room.

Paige B.

“He’s in bed. We watched Bluey and ate too many Oreos. Love you.”

sent 11:13 p.m.

I smile, small and tired, as I slip on my hoodie and head toward the parking garage.

The drive home is blurry.

My body aches, but my mind is running on one track: I need a shower, I need my girl, and I need to kiss my son good morning even if he’s still asleep.

The front door creaks as I push it open, and I’m extra careful with the key.

The house is quiet, dark, but I hear the faint sound of a TV still running somewhere—cartoon voices, soft and steady.

The hallway to our room feels longer in the silence.

And then I see it: the glow of the TV playing Bluey, Paige curled up under the blanket, and Ashton snuggled tight against her, his little hand still gripping Franklin.

God, they’re beautiful.

Paige is facing him but I can tell she’s not in a deep sleep.

It’s that kind of half-rest she always falls into when she’s waiting for me.

I backtrack to the bathroom, turning the water on low and hot, tiptoeing through the routine to avoid waking anyone.

The shower hits my skin and I wince.

But not from the hotness of the water.

It’s been a long day.

A brutal one.

I just want to scrub the hospital off of me and crawl into bed between the two loves of my life.

I’m just washing my arms when I hear the door creak open.

“Ma?” Paige’s voice is soft, raspy, still half-asleep.

I turn and smile as she steps in, blinking through the steam.

She doesn’t say anything else.

Just steps in behind me, arms sliding around my waist as her cheek presses to my shoulder.

“You should be asleep,” I murmur.

“I don’t fully sleep when you’re not home,” she says, and I feel her lips kiss the top of my spine. “How was your shift?”

“Exhausting,” I admit, leaning into her touch.

“Let me help,” she whispers.

She takes the loofah from me gently and begins washing my back, slow and tender, like I’m made of glass.

Her fingers trail behind each motion, pressing soft, familiar circles into my shoulders, down my spine.

Her lips kiss just below my neck.

“I missed you,” I breathe.

“I missed you more,” she counters.

The water runs warm between us, and it feels like the whole world fades for a minute.

There’s no hospital.

No overtime.

No sore muscles.

Just her.

Her touch.

Her love.

After a few more minutes, we rinse off, dry each other in soft, tired silence, and slip back into bed.

Ashton hasn’t moved an inch.

He’s in the exact same spot—except now, his hand is outstretched slightly, like he was waiting for someone else to return.

I slip into the bed and press a kiss to his forehead.

Paige pulls the blanket over us and slides in behind me, her arm wrapping around both me and Ashton.

Her chin rests lightly against my shoulder.

“TV okay?” she mumbles, eyes already starting to flutter closed again.

“Perfect,” I whisper.

The screen glows in the dim room, playing a soft, familiar theme song.

And even though I’m bone tired, my heart is so full it could burst.

Later That Morning. After I had only a few hours of sleep and the sun is peaking through the curtains more.

I’m now half-awake when I feel little fingers tapping my arm.

“Mama?” Ashton’s voice is tiny.

I blink open my eyes. “Hey, bub…”

“You’re home!” he beams, climbing over Paige to smush himself into my arms.

I pull him close, pressing my nose into his curls. “I’m home.”

“I had a bad dream,” he mumbles again. “But Mommy let me sleep with her. She said you’d be back.”

“She was right.”

I glance over and see Paige still half-asleep, smiling into the pillow.

“Wanna watch Bluey again?” I ask him.

“Only if you stay with us this time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I hold him tight, Paige’s hand finding mine under the blanket.

Disney Junior keeps playing.

And just like that—we’re whole again.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!💚💙

-prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

655 notes · View notes

no-144444 · 6 months ago

Note

HI!!!! I am such a huge fan of your work, could i request something with charles where the reader is max verstappens sister but she's a pop star (think sabrina carpenter) and charles and her are dating on the dl but he goes to her concert and gets spotted and then everyone goes crazy with fan theories and they hard launch with the music video, and max is pissed because a, she's off limits to drivers. and b, why didn't they tell him.

anyways, that was just my thoughts, thank you girl!

don't dim your light- c.l

summary: you have a secret boyfriend and an album coming and you realise that hiding yourself and your life only makes you feel like shit.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! verstappen! popstar! reader

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Being the sister of Max Verstappen meant two things:

1: You were famous.

2: You were off-limits to every single other driver.

Too bad that you’d fallen for your brother’s rival (/husband???). Charles was perfect, everything you’d ever wanted in a man. He was kind, caring, thoughtful, and most of all… fucking gorgeous. It had been months of sneaking around because, while Charles didn’t feel scared at all to drive a car around at top speed, actually risking his life, he was scared of your brother. Like, scared to death.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Bebé,” he whined, holding you against him. “My love! Do not leave me here!”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling, as you pushed his hands off of you. “I have to catch my flight!”

“But if we don’t spend Christmas together I won’t see you until the summer!” he groaned.

“The joys of dating a popstar, I guess,” you shrugged, grabbing your suitcase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I’ll see you in Monaco, alright?”

He frowned then pressed his lips to yours as hard as he possibly could. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you big sap,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“You are so mean to me, you know that?” he huffed.

“Bye Charles!” you called after yourself, leaving his Monaco apartment.

It had been 7 whole months of bliss with Charles. Obviously, you’d met him prior to the first date, knowing him quite well from all the stories Max had told you, but shockingly, it took a Puma brand ambassadors dinner for him to make the first move. He was evidently very nervous, but you’d started to love his weird dorky qualities. He was sweet, and kind, and that’s all you really cared about.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“London, can we make some noise?!” you cheered. The stadium roared back to you. You had done it. You’d sold out the O2 for 4 whole nights. You were one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. “Are you guys ready for one last song tonight?” they screamed back at you. “Alright, this one is new, I hope you like it!”

The intro to Bed Chem started, and you knew everyone already knew it (it had been leaked a few months ago), but you danced and sang it exactly how it was meant to sound. One thing you loved about being on stage is how free you felt. All of those people were there to see you, which melted your heart. You loved every single fan you’d ever come across and appreciated every single one of them. They made you, they made your success.

As the song finished, ‘new album out next week! xxx’ flashed behind you on the screen, and the crowd went wild.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You walked into your dressing room, exhausted from the night, and slightly hurt that despite offering to fly them out, none of your family came. You understood, Max’s career was important, and it was his last chance before the regulations changed to get the most out of the car. He wanted his fifth so badly, mostly because he wasn’t sure he was going to stay around from 2026 onwards. He had a family now. He had a baby and P to take care of. He didn’t like the media circus that F1 had turned into, or the fact that it was a popularity contest. Your entire family had been built around Max, and you knew why, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when you were reminded of the fact that you were just the second kid.

“My love!” Charles cheered, wrapping you up in his arms, startling you. “You were incredible! You were amazing!” he pressed kiss after kiss to your neck and cheek as you hugged him back, ecstatic that he was here.

He had taken the time out of his insanely busy schedule, on a race week, to come see you on the literal other side of the world. He truly was the best boyfriend in the world.

“What are you doing here?” you chuckled, shocked by his presence. “You should be getting ready for Japan!”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine in Japan, I wasn’t going to miss you performing!”

You pulled him closer once again, pressing your lips against his. “I fucking love you,” you whispered, trying to make your voice sound steady.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pulling back. The way he looked at you. All the love in the world. Like you hung the fucking stars just for him. He adored you, and you felt it. You felt bathed in his light the second he walked near you, that’s how much he loved you. “Don’t cry,” he frowned, wiping the tears you hadn’t even noticed were falling, away. “I hope they’re happy tears,” he teased.

You nodded, burying your head in his chest. “They are. They really are.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. “I’m glad.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 8,983,837 others

y/nverstappen SHORT N SWEET OUT ON THE 6TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!!!! ROYAL COURT (with lady broski) OUT ON THE 8TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!

comments

user8: prepare to be SICK of me

brittanybroski: ROYAL COURT MENTIONED 💯💯💯💯💯💯 -> liked by y/nverstappen

user999: SHE'S GLOWING

user7: not the grinch picture 💀

maxverstappen: Congratulations Y/n! -> liked by y/nverstappen

user66: DID ANYONE ELSE SEE WHO WAS AT HER SHOW????? -> user92: LITERALLY! -> user933: charles what is you doing here loca?

calebhearon: SHE'S STUNNING -> liked by y/nverstappen

oliviarodrigo: and she's serving. as per usual. liked by y/nverstappen -> user88: LOCA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE -> user22: THE GIRLS ARE HEALING.

user09: now i need to know who bed chem is about... -> user44: thick accent... (charles leclerc) -> user94: officer it's this one! -> user88: on MY cellular device? -> user21: me when i'm delusional.

user802: BED CHEM ATE SO FUCKING HARD OMFG

user213: where is her family? she sold out the O2 for 4 consecutive nights AND is releasing her second album, and they're nowhere to be seen? jos 'i support my daughter' verstappen my ASS. -> user2342: right? It's so unfair, her entire life has been built around max and he couldn't even go see her on the biggest night of her life while pierre gasly and charles leclerc can? It's bullshit.

user90: she's so hot i cannot do this anymore.

user87: charles lurking in the likes...? -> user36: tbf a lot of the drivers follow her, it could be a coincidence.

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f1gossip

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, and 890,848 others

f1gossip Drivers Charles LeClerc and Pierre Gasly were seen at a Y/n Verstappen concert in London this week! They seemed to be enjoying themselves, though there was no sign of Max anywhere!

comments

user88: pierre and lando are messy

user99: WHERE WAS MAX? THIS WAS Y/N'S BIG MOMENT???

user929023: OMFG BED CHEM IS ABOUT CHARLES WTF -> user97437: no it's not she can't steal my husband -> user4: she can, and she did

user772: he looks so drunk in the last photo lmao

user942: WHAT A SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND!

user847: Pierre's sunglasses are taking me out rn 💀 -> pierregasly: what's wrong with them? -> user88: ARE CHARLES AND Y/N TOGETHER??? -> pierregasly: 🤷🤷🤷

user92: they'd be so cute together!!!!

user902: omfg max would KILL him if they're together

user935841: do we all remember the interview where max said he'd fucking shove any of the drivers off the track if they went for his sister? like does charles have a death with? is he not despressed enough?

user91234: charles when i catch you

user7: if he stole my wife, i'm going to be pissed (i've never met her and she doesn't know i exist)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

"People saw you today," you yawned, laying in bed with Charles. The concert was over, and Charles had surprised you with his presence, though it was more than welcome. You were both lying in the luxurious hotel bed as you settled down for sleep, his arms wrapping around you.

He nodded. "I know. I just thought people would assume we're friends though."

You rolled your eyes. Bullshit. “You’re such a bad liar,” you chuckled as his jaw dropped at the accusation.

“I am not lying!” he stressed, but his smirk gave him away.

“Charles LeClerc, you wanted people to find out, didn’t you?” you gasped, hitting him with a pillow.

“I did not!” he hit you back.

What ensued after was a pillow fight that ended with you holding him down against the bed, and his lips on yours. The amount of alcohol you'd both consumed meant that the kiss was messy, but amazing all the same. It was all teeth and tongue, all passion, all Charles.

“You were so pretty up there,” he whispered against your mouth, completely at your mercy. “Felt like you were singing just to me.”

You chuckled, pulling back. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, biting his lip. “So perfect,” he sighed.

“I still think you wanted people to find out,” you argued, getting off of him.

“Well of course, but that’s-”

“Charles!” you squealed.

"My love!" he chuckled, holding you closer. "How in the world, do you expect me to try and hide the fact that I love you-?"

He was interrupted by your phone ringing. You groaned, he groaned, yet you got up and sat up, grabbing it, answering without looking at the caller id.

"Are you dating Charles?" Max's voice sobered you up pretty quickly. You stuttered for a moment, then laughed.

"W-what?" you questioned. "No."

He huffed from the other side of the phone. "Are you sure? What was he doing at your show?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know, maybe he actually enjoys my music and wanted to come see me? Is that so outlandish?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying."

"Yeah, you're not even interested in my life enough to ask. The shows were great, thanks for asking dickhead," you scoffed before ending the call and blocking his number. He was so... self-involved. He'd stopped caring about you and your interests when you were only kids, too focused on the plan to notice that fact that you were there, and that you adored your big brother. Nevertheless, he didn't care, so you had to stop caring too.

"Are you alright?" Charles whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

You nodded, too fragile to answer. You knew you'd break down crying if you answered verbally, so that would have to do.

"I'm sorry," he pressed gentle but grounding kisses to your neck and back as you gave yourself a moment to soak it all in. "I know how hard this is on you. I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologise for loving me," you whispered, your voice breaking.

He chuckled. "I'll never apologise for that," he smiled against your skin. "I'm just sorry that your family are... difficult."

You nodded, leaning into him. "They are."

"You were radiant up on that stage tonight," he beamed. "Don't let them dim your light, please baby."

You nodded. "You're right. No more dimming lights."

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

The song was simple and from your next album, it could be your second single of the album, and you knew it was catchy and good. It was a good plan, a great plan, even. You and Charles would hard launch your relationship to the world with a music video appearance. Not only would it show the world your relationship, it would also be a great way to generate buzz for your upcoming album. Win-win. The idea was sexy and cool, and shooting it was as much fun as you'd imagined (aka, a lot of kisses, a lot of him touching you, and a lot of retakes), and by the end of the shoot you were convinced it was your best video yet.

You weren't going to tell Max before the video came out. You weren't interested in getting two different lectures, so you decided you'd prefer one long one. Charles supported your decision, and didn't tell anyone shit until the night the video came out.

By then, it was fair game.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

charlesleclerc & y/nverstappen

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, oscarpiastri and 6,893,234 others

charlesleclerc isn't she lovely? please, please, please mv out now.

comments

user92: YOU'RE JOKING

user23: WHAT A PERFECT COUPLE

user9535: stood up and applauded.

user76: this is my niche and i'm so here for it.

brittanybroski: MY WOMAN, NOOOOOOOOO

user024: she's perfect. she is so perfect.

user924084208: can i be her when I grow up? (i'm 34)

user3: she's kind of a slut... -> user9: please please please for the love of god shut the fuck up

user45: idk who I want to be more -> user83: charles. -> user82: charles. -> user08424: charles. -> user36824: charles. -> user24: charles. -> user1: charles. -> user56: charles. -> user75: charles.

pierregasly: KNEW IT FROM THE START ->charlesleclerc: is that because we told you or...? -> pierregasly: trying to steal my thunder rn is CRAZY -> charlesleclerc: trying to make this about yourself rn is CRAZY -> y/nverstappen: BOTH of you are acting like idiots, please refrain

y/nverstappen: ilysm -> charlesleclerc: i adore you -> user923: sleeping on the highway tonight!

lewishamilton: :) -> charlesleclerc: thanks bud :)

user834: what does he see in her?

user2: what does she see in him?

user5: is she aware of his cheating scandals in the past? -> user34: it's almost like people can grow and change! hope this helps xxx

user645: she is about to get her heart broken

user2321: she couldn't have picked someone more... suited to her? -> user8: mate she's a popstar and the sister of Max Verstappen, what about Charles LeClerc isn't 'suited' to her?

francocolapinto: 😍😍😍 -> user830: what is blud doing?

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y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, pierregasly, and 4,873,933 others

y/nverstappen just 2 days until the album, here's so photos of yours truly to hold you over 💋

comments

user935: anyone notice how max has been MIA and angry since her London shows?? -> user5684: i'm employed what does this mean? -> user33: stop trying to stir shit up bro

charlesleclerc: beautiful girl liked by y/nverstappen

user88: max looked like he was ready to kill charles today lmao

user93940924: she's glowing

user6: not mentioning charles i see... -> user9: girl fuck off -> user4: they've been publicly dating for 2 days, calm down.

user09: sigh... i could treat you better y/n... -> charlesleclerc: no you could not. -> pierregasly: let's reel it in buddy ffs -> charlesleclerc: what??? is defending my honour cringe now? -> pierregasly: not just now, it always was.

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When the album launched, you were nestled in your apartment, alone. You were so excited for a night nice in, but of course, your plans were foiled by a knock on the door, and an outpour of dutch from your brother's lips.

"Fuck off Max," you shouted from your side of the door. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm missing a race for this," he sighed, his voice softer than you'd heard it.

You opened the door, and he did something unexpected. He hugged you. A full-blown tight hug, the kind he hadn't given you since you were a kid.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged, pulling out of the hug. "I wasn't interested in the lecture."

"But I know Charles, I could've... I don't know, helped?" he paced around your kitchen. "I just... I don't understand why you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"Max, you said you'd shove anyone off track if they went for me, so I don't understand your disconnect. I'm happy with Charles, like really fucking happy. He makes me feel great, and he cares about me. He loves me. And I'm so sick of trying to make myself smaller so that i can fit into your life. I adore you Max, genuinely, I do. You're my big brother and I love you, and you should be celebrated for your incredible accomplishments, but so should I. I'm not going to sit here and make myself any more unhappy just because it'll make your life easier. I-I won't do it. I want to be able to post my boyfriend, go support him at races, and everything else all the other girlfriends can do. I'm not going to hide him or myself to make you more comfortable," you pushed through the tears building behind your eyes, and stared him right in the eyes. He needed to hear that your life wasn't just about him.

He was quiet for a moment. "I'm happy for you, and I'm sorry that I'm not very good at... being there for you."

He looked uncomfortable. He'd never been very good with his emotions, so that was probably the best you were going to get.

"Thank you," you smiled. "And you really didn't have to miss a race for me, but thank you anyways."

He nodded. "I care about you. I want you to be happy," he explained, looking down.

You were both silent for a few seconds.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you offered.

He looked up and smiled. Same old Max. Same old you.

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y/nverstappen

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 6,243, 563 others

y/nverstappen: and she's out! thank you all so much for the love, mwah!

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen: Very proud!

charlesleclerc: i love you so much you're so pretty (please please please let me come over tonight)

landonorris: SHARPEST TOOL IS SUCH A BANGER liked by y/nverstappen

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ilovolderman · 2 months ago

Text

Operation Mugshot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to set a trap to catch your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, drones and oranges

Sam Wilson had a plan.

He’d spent the better part of two weeks compiling evidence, cross-referencing time logs, analyzing coffee consumption patterns, and creating a red-string bulletin board that would’ve made any conspiracy theorist proud.

Today, all that paranoia was finally going to pay off.

He sipped his decaf—yes, decaf, because he needed to stay sharp—and watched the living room like a hawk disguised as a houseplant. Or maybe the other way around.

The trap was simple.

Step 1: Hide in the pantry with snacks, a thermal imaging tablet, and a drone disguised as a spice rack. Step 2: Wait. Step 3: Catch you two being adorably romantic in high-definition.

Easy.

Sam sipped his decaf, checked his drone feed, and muttered into his earpiece—connected to absolutely no one. “Wilson to base. Operation Mugshot is live. Targets are expected in T-minus one minute.”

Five minutes in, Sam was regretting the plan.

Ten minutes in, he was beginning to lose feeling in one leg.

Fifteen minutes in, the door creaked open.

He tensed. It was happening. Showtime.

But it wasn’t Bucky.

It wasn’t even you.

It was a Roomba. Rolling casually into the kitchen, bumping into a cabinet, and then zooming away like it had places to be.

Sam exhaled, annoyed. “False alarm.”

Twenty minutes in, the door opened again. Finally.

A creak. Footsteps.

Bingo.

You shuffled in wrapped in a burrito blanket, yawning with your whole body. Your socks were mismatched. You still had a pillow crease on your face. You looked, in Sam’s words, “suspiciously domestic.”

A beat later, Bucky wandered in.

Barefoot. Wearing a t-shirt that just so happened to look a lot like one you “lost” last week. He blinked at the pantry.

Bucky tilted his head ever so slightly toward the pantry. The door was open a fraction too wide. There was a faint hum—Sam’s drone, probably watching like a nosy Roomba.

He mouthed, Trap.

You mouthed back, I know.

So, naturally, you played it cool.

“Morning,” you said casually, reaching for a mug. “Nice weather for emotional espionage.”

“Sure is,” Bucky replied, pouring himself coffee like a man who hadn’t just spotted a super-spy hiding behind the cereal boxes.

You both stood in suspicious silence for a moment.

Then Bucky dropped the act, leaned over, and whispered, “We should absolutely mess with him.”

You grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

Cut to ten minutes later: you and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couch, the most awkward six feet of exaggerated distance between you. No eye contact. Arms folded. The tension so forced it might as well have been acting school improv.

Sam, crouched in the pantry, stared at the screen. His drone hovered silently, recording the scene.

“Huh,” he mumbled. “No touching. No shared glances. No whispering. That’s… not what I expected.”

The footage was useless. You both looked like coworkers waiting for a Zoom call to start.

Then—movement.

Sam tensed.

You got up. Walked toward Bucky. Bucky looked up.

Sam’s heart nearly exploded with victory.

You said, “Do you have… the thing?”

“The thing?” Bucky echoed.

“The thing for… that work thing?”

“Ah,” Bucky said, “the… report?”

“Yes,” you said stiffly. “That report.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. They were talking code. He scrambled to write it down. THE REPORT = PROBABLY CODE FOR SECRET RELATIONSHIP.

Sam was vibrating.

“They’re debriefing,” he whispered. “This is it. This is the heart of the operation.”

Then he shifted too hard and knocked over a box of granola bars.

The pantry door creaked.

The drone wobbled and dropped like a bug with stage fright.

You stood calmly and opened the door.

There was Sam Wilson. Looking like a kid caught stealing cookies—except the cookies were a pile of tech gadgets, caffeine charts, and about four different colored highlighters.

You blinked. “You okay in there?”

He looked down at his tablet. “I was… conducting surveillance.”

“For breakfast?”

“DON’T PLAY DUMB,” Sam snapped, pointing dramatically.

Bucky offered a hand to help him up. “Are you good, man?”

Sam slapped it away. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. I just got ambushed by—by deception and romantic subterfuge.” He gestured wildly.

“Coincidence,” Bucky said, way too smoothly.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You will slip up one day. You think I didn’t notice how you both hum ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ while making toast?”

“That was once,” you said defensively.

“ON THREE DIFFERENT OCCASIONS.”

“Okay, twice.”

“Also,” Sam added, “you share coffee stirrers.”

Bucky blinked. “We don’t even use stirrers.”

“You do!” Sam yelled, unhinged. “YOU DO. I HAVE SCREENSHOTS.”

There was a beat of silence.

You turned to Bucky. “We should be concerned, right?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “Very.”

Sam’s drone bumped into the wall and fell with a soft whirr.

“…Friday,” Sam said, defeated, “run the footage back. Look for emotional cues.”

Then Friday chimed in: “Sir, your footage today is 97% couch silence and 3% you chewing a granola bar while whispering ‘enhance’ at a static screen.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

“I’ve failed,” he said.

You walked over and gently patted his shoulder. “You tried.”

“I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” Bucky said, smiling softly.

Sam pointed at him. “I will find the truth. Someday. I’ll be ready.”

“Sure you will,” you said sweetly.

Sam stormed out. Then stormed back in. Grabbed his granola bar. Then stormed out again. He grumbled under his breath “This isn’t over. I’ll crack the case eventually.”

FRIDAY chimed softly from above. “Sir, your blood pressure is once again elevated.”

Sam glared at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, remind me to install lie detectors in every room.”

“Noted.”

Once Sam had disappeared, you leaned into Bucky’s side, chuckling softly.

“That was beautiful,” you said, still snickering. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Bucky grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Nah. He’s probably already planning his next move. But at least we know one thing for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He kissed your forehead again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re definitely not getting caught.”

And as long as Sam kept chasing wild theories, you knew the two of you had the perfect cover.

For now.

From the hallway, Sam peeked back in, only to see you both on opposite ends of the couch again, scrolling your phones.

He narrowed his eyes.

“…One day,” he muttered. “One. Day.”

Later that morning you sat on the blanket Bucky laid out—curled up in one of his hoodies that was at least two sizes too big, sleeves draping over your hands like paws, the collar loose enough that it slipped off your shoulder every time you shifted.

The rooftop garden was quiet except for the lazy hum of bees somewhere off near the lavender.

Above, cottony clouds drifted across a soft blue sky like they were in no rush to be anywhere else.

Bucky sat beside you, legs stretched out, peeling an orange with the slow, careful ease of someone with nowhere else to be. He offered you the first slice with a crooked little smile—the kind he only ever gave you. The kind that made your heart skip like a stone across still water.

You took the orange slice, your fingers brushing his. His fingers lingered.

Another slice. For you.

One for him.

One he tucked into the front pocket of your hoodie with exaggerated seriousness, like it was official mission protocol.

“For later,” he said, his voice low, amused.

You chuckled, letting your head fall lightly against his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like him—cedar, warmth, a little like whatever laundry detergent he pretended not to care about but always remembered to buy.

He leaned into your weight, resting his cheek against your hair, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply were—content, warm, quiet.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

Bucky hummed. “Even if Sam installs spy pigeons next?”

“He already tried. They were drones.”

He tilted his head just enough to give you a look. “You’re kidding.”

“Swear. I caught one trying to blend in with the doves last week.”

“…Did it coo?”

“Worse. It beeped.”

You both burst out laughing, your voice muffled against his arm. Bucky’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and you could feel it under your cheek like a heartbeat made of joy.

“You know he’s never going to stop,” you said, lifting your gaze slightly to meet his eyes.

“I hope he never does,” Bucky said, soft and sure. “Gives us an excuse to keep playing these little games.”

You smiled, fingertips absently tugging at the cuff of his sleeve.

“I like our games.”

“I like you.”

He said it like a secret. Like something holy. Like the sun had come out just to eavesdrop on the moment.

Then he tilted his head and kissed you, slow and soft, a kiss that tasted like orange and quiet and safety. The kind of kiss that wasn’t asking for anything, just giving everything.

You smiled against his lips. He kissed that smile, too.

Then, a soft whirrrr in the distance.

You both looked up.

A drone hovered nearby, clearly struggling against the wind.

Bucky leaned close, whispered in your ear, “Five bucks says he crashes it into the tomatoes again.”

You grinned. “You’re on.”

Moments later, the drone dipped, wobbled—

Thunk.

Right into the tomato trellis.

Bucky held out his hand. “Pay up.”

You laughed and kissed his lips.

“Acceptable payment,” he said solemnly.

Meanwhile in somewhere in the compound Sam was scribbling in his notebook again.

CASE #111: They ARE Dating.

Surveillance Compromised Drone Casualties: 1 (Tomato-related incident) Emotional Evidence: Off the charts Investigator Notes: “They’re definitely dating. I feel it in my spleen. But also… maybe they deserve to be happy. Maybe… I’m the problem.” Status: Unofficially Admitted, Still Officially Denied

And then, in desperate, scrawled print:

“WHY IS IT SO HARD TO CATCH PEOPLE BEING IN LOVE?!”

Underlined three times.

“They’re too innocent. It’s a setup. It’s reverse psychology. They want me to think they’re not dating so I give up—BUT I WON’T.” he muttered

Then, he paused.

Stared into the middle distance.

“…Wait. What if I’m the one being surveilled?”

Friday, ever patient, replied from the speakers: “Sir, please go outside.”

next part

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