#and have personalities and names and stuff

[firingstars]

locked in

— a sequel to match made

congressman!bucky x matchmaker!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend have been together for a strong nineteen months and counting. problem is, you’re starting to notice he’s hiding things from you.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, semi-public (?) stuffs, oral (f+m receiving), hair pulling, face grabbing, fingers in mouth, unprotected sex, backshots, fingering, window… sex…, soft dom bucky, slight sub reader, language, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, bucky is the best boyfriend ever and loves you very much

word count: 15.2k

a/n: due to popular demand, here’s a second part! this is also my formal apology for whatever happened in love, persevering <3 please accept. // also if anyone saw this get prematurely posted with NOTHING attached you didn’t fucking see it. i wasn’t made aware until EIGHT HOURS LATER and the fic wasn’t even done yet!!! 😔 i always make my fic intro template things before my fics are done for motivation

masterlist

You almost lost your fucking job. 

You expected it, honestly. With the amount of lines you crossed, boundaries broken, and toes you stepped on… Yeah. There was only so much that your boss could take from you— star employee or not. 

Thankfully, your boss kept the whole thing quiet from the rest of your coworkers to spare you the embarrassment since you had the decency to come to her and tell her the truth. 

It still meant you had to refund Sam Wilson the entire Ador Luxury Matchmaking Package, which your boss was not happy about.

Sam, on the other hand, was over the moon. 

When he received the refund transaction, he called you almost immediately. You had to go into a private conference room to answer the call, away from your coworkers.

“Mr. Wilson,” you answered the phone, trying to keep your tone light.

“Hey, Ms. Matchmaker,” he said, suspicion in his voice. “Did Buck cancel his membership?”

“That is correct,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“I thought we had an agreement. I paid you guys extra to not allow him to bully you guys into ending the program,” Sam said. You can hear the frustration in his voice. You don’t blame him. “What happened?”

“I can assure you– the refund is not due to Congressman Barnes just cancelling the service,” you said. “In fact, he is no longer in need of my services.”

“What? Then he’s been on a date?” Sam asked. “If that’s the case, then why the refund? If the date was successful, then doesn’t Bucky get the benefits or whatever?”

There was no response from your end for a good handful of moments. You were stuck, unable to respond. You couldn’t figure out how to say the words in the most professional way possible. You needed to find the right concoction, just in case there was someone walking down the hall at that exact moment,  and overheard your conversation. 

In the end, all you could think was that Bucky was a dead man walking.

You were going to kill Bucky. You weren’t sure how you were going to do that, seeing as he was the one with the years of experience of fighting between the two of you, but you would do it. You were hoping that he would’ve told his one and only friend that he had a girlfriend. 

Then again, Bucky refused to answer any of Sam’s calls. You texted Sam back most of the time when you got ahold of Bucky’s phone, pretending to be Bucky. Bucky didn’t care that you were doing that– though you wondered if Sam would be heartbroken if he ever found out. 

“Hello?” Sam asked, calling out your name. “Are you there?”

“Congressman Barnes terminated his membership with Ador as he and I have mutually decided to pursue a more personal relationship with each other,” you quickly answered him, cringing at your own words. You took a quick breath in before continuing, “The refund is due to my own oversight, and is serving as an apology to you for wasting your time on our service. I truly hope that you will forgive me for being unable to maintain a more professional connection with the client.”

It was Sam’s turn to fall silent. You had to check your phone to make sure that the call was still active. There was a slight rustle on the other end, letting you know that he was still there– that he was on the other end, dissecting your words, gears processing through his mind.

“The matchmaker I hired is dating my friend?!” he cackled. 

“Mr. Wilson, I truly apologize for the inconvenience–” 

“There is no inconvenience!” he cut you off, still laughing. “Holy shit, let me tell you– after that first meeting with you? I asked Bucky what he thought about you as his matchmaker and his only words? He thought you were pretty. Would not say anything else. Fuck, listen, let me call you back– or let’s all go to dinner. You, me, Buck, and my girl. I gotta head down to the office and harass Bucky right now.”

You went on an unpaid suspension for eight weeks after the refund transaction went through. The HQ of Ador had to undergo a full on investigation to figure out if you were worth keeping around as an employee or not, seeing as you ended up breaking client-employee conduct. 

Your boss wasn’t awful, though. In fact, she was only pissed off about the refund because she knew that headquarters back in London would have been alerted. Either way, it was still the right thing to process the transaction. She promised you that she would be your biggest advocate during the investigation, and she would try to argue for you to get the time to be paid seeing as you were the best employee in the New York branch.

The second you told Bucky– who told Sam– you found money wired into your account the next business day. It was the same exact amount that you had refunded back to Sam. It was still more money than you would’ve made if you were working those eight weeks. 

Neither man told you how they got ahold of your bank information. Neither man would look you in the eye when you questioned them. 

So, you had eight weeks of basically overpaid, free vacation to do whatever the hell you wanted, and a new boyfriend. Which meant you spent damn near every single day in his office, cosplaying as some government worker– an intern or secretary. And you were helping him. You actually were. 

“You really don’t have to do any of this, baby,” Bucky told you. You had been coming for an entire week straight at this point.

“If I stay stationary for two months, I think I might die of brain failure,” you told him, stealing a stack of his files from him. “Besides. You look like you need some help. You should really hire a secretary. Or someone to help you out. A personal assistant, maybe?”

“I can handle it on my own,” he sighed, shaking his head. Despite his words, he looked grateful as you took the files to the lounge area of his office and spread them out on the coffee table.

“Tell that to me when you sleep more than two hours a night, handsome,” you said, tucking your legs under you.

With less sensitive information that he was allowed to hand over to you, you organized and kept tabs on. You summarized documents for him perfectly that made his life easier. You helped train other onboarding interns that didn’t know what the hell they were doing. You managed his calendar when he looked like he was about to combust into flames. You got to spend time with him during his breaks, have lunch with him, eat dinner with him, and he would drive you home, and spend the night with you most nights.

Not that anyone knew that, though. They thought you were an actual employee of this official government building in New York. With the way that you walked side by side with Bucky every single day, holding files and looking down at his work phone– they really thought that you were working for him.

“Where’s your secretary today?”

You don’t know who asked the question, and you don’t really care. There’s about three other officials in this room that barged in out of nowhere, when you were on Bucky’s lap. 

Both of you had panicked, and he had shoved you into the hiding space beneath his desk before any of them could see the scandalous position he had you in. 

Unluckily for him, he had chosen the wrong place to put you. 

“At a training session with other interns,” Bucky said, tone clipped and short. He was irritated at being interrupted out of nowhere, but also at the fact that you were ignoring his warnings. 

You grinned, pressing an innocent kiss to the hand that gripped over your wrist. Tight, but not enough to hurt you. You continued to palm over his hardening length with your free hand. 

You weren’t paying attention to any of the fancy words that were being thrown around over your head, but you were certain that Bucky wasn’t either. You rested the side of your head against his thigh, feeling the muscle tense and hardened at your touch as you continued to lazily play with him over the fabric of his dress pants. 

Bucky’s metal hand slipped from your wrist to your hair, carding through it and stopping at the base of your skull– another cautionary message being sent to you as Bucky tried to focus on the sudden meeting thrown his way. Thankfully, these men loved the sound of their own voices. They couldn’t hear you slowly unzip him, and free Bucky from the confines of his slacks. 

“Your thoughts, Congressman Barnes?”

Your boyfriend cleared his throat above you as your lips kissed the tip of his cock, wrapping your hand around the base of him to keep him in place as his dick twitched in response. You fought back the small hum that threatened to come forth as you licked up the small bead of precum that leaked out.

“It’s a very… worrying matter,” Bucky said slowly, clenching his jaw as he took in a slow breath. You licked a thin strip up from the base of his cock– focusing on the thick vein that you knew was sensitive. “That is very worrisome. And we’ll get to the bottom of this uh– worrying... issue.”

You paused at his words, unable to believe what you were hearing from him for a moment. You pulled away from him for a moment, hand still wrapped around his dick as you pressed your face to his thigh, trying to hide your laugh into his flesh. 

Bucky’s hand tugged back on your hair roughly, pulling your head back and away from his thigh. Immediately, his metal hand shifted from your hair to clasp around your face, covering your mouth. His fingertips dug into the soft skin of your cheeks, daring you to make another noise. Surprise and excitement shot through your body in response.  

You could test him. You could press it. 

You decided against it, and licked his palm instead, closing your eyes. You could feel his hand twitch against your face— he told you once that his arm was calibrated to feel sensations. That he felt nerves like his other arm did. You smiled just a little, then kissed right where your tongue had just been. 

All the while, your hand was still pumping at his dick in lazy strokes. Nothing too much, nothing that would alert anyone of your presence, nothing that would make him let out noises that were only yours to hear. 

“Right,” one of the officials said slowly. “Well– we have lunch with some of the other representatives in ten minutes. You are welcome to join us, Congressman. If your secretary comes back from her training, she is more than welcome to join us as well. Lord knows we need a little more eye candy around here.”

A chorus of laughter rang around the room, but not from Bucky. In fact, he just stared at them until their laughter became uncomfortable, and they awkwardly excused themselves. 

The second the door to his office shut, Bucky’s chair was rolled back instantly, and your hands weren’t touching him anymore. 

You were still on your knees, looking up at him as Bucky stared down at you, hand still on your face to shut you up before you had been caught laughing at his inability to form proper words with your mouth on his cock.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby,” he murmured, hand shifting to cradle your face.

A metal thumb brushed against your lip slowly, a shiver running down your spine involuntarily. His touch was gentle. Reverent. He touched you like you were made of glass. Unlike the blown out, hungry look in his eyes, the gruff, low tone of his voice as he whispered to you. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw his other hand tuck himself back into his pants. When your eyebrows furrowed in response, he let out a soft chuckle.

Bucky leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. Then, he stood up tall. He rolled his shoulders back, but you couldn’t focus. Your eyes were on him, and the aching bulge above his zipper. 

“I have to go to lunch, sweetheart. When I get back, you’re going to get exactly what you wanted from me, okay?” 

Your boyfriend left you there. Left you partially under his desk, still on your knees. What was supposed to be you teasing him, quickly shifted into you being extremely hot and bothered. You didn’t know how long lunch would take, either. 

You busied yourself with literally anything else. Not that it worked. Every footstep that came down the corridor, you were jumping in attention like some rabbit in heat.

Except, Bucky moved like a ghost. You wouldn’t hear his footsteps. 

When he finally returned, you didn’t even hear him until the sound of the office door locking caught your attention. You barely had the time to turn around before he was all over you. Lips were on yours as he hoisted you upwards, wrapping your legs around his waist to carry you to his choice of christening. 

An arm swiped his desk clear of any debris so no pens or other office supplies would be digging into your skin. He bunched your skirt up to your hips, and pulled your panties to the side. Bucky bent you over his desk with fingers shoved into your mouth to keep you quiet as he did what you wanted from the beginning. He curtained you, his chest pressed against your back as he whispered sweet nothings to contrast the punishing thrust of his hips— letting you know that he still very much adored you, but was also extremely annoyed by your little game earlier.

Afterwards, Bucky cleaned you up gently. Kissed you softly, held you tightly in his arms. Then presented you with food that he brought back for you– he ordered you lunch while he was out eating since he knew you wouldn’t have left the office while he was gone. 

You almost jumped his bones again right then and there for how considerate he was of you.

So yes, you almost lost your job, but you weren’t necessarily upset about it. Not when you got to spend an entire month with Bucky, helping him out at work, cuddling with him at night, and waking up at whatever time you wanted the next morning. On the rare days that you weren’t at the office with him, it was because you were somewhere else– still with him. 

Eventually, you were called back into work.

You convinced Bucky to hire an assistant to take care of his little things— stuff that you did for him to make his life easier so he could focus on more pressing things. It managed to ease his workload just a little bit, but not by a lot. Bucky still managed to bite more than he could chew, and you knew he was stressed from how slow the process was for passing bills and getting change to happen. 

Despite it all, the two of you were content. Happy. Overjoyed, really. He was perfect, and he swore to the heavens that you were, too.

A cacophony of voices, poppers, music, and sparkles were blasted into your face as you pushed open the door to the office. Streamers were shot directly into your face, colors cascading directly before your eyes, showering you with colors of the pastel rainbow. 

Your coworkers, all dressed to the nines, were cheering. A few of them held flutes of champagne. Two of them held balloons– together making the number twelve together. One of them held a cake that read congratulations.

There was a catering table set for the party that was clearly waiting for you. You saw the table set, ready for everyone to dig into. You knew your boss didn’t hold back when it came to celebrating any kind of achievements, especially not your own. You were the best at what you did here.

Your grin wasn’t smug, even though you had every single right to be. You shrugged your blazer off as you sauntered into the room, allowing the applause and cheers to wash over you. You dropped your purse and other materials off at your desk as your boss approached you with a grin, hands going to your shoulders.

“My star employee– our number one matchmaker!” she cooed at you, everyone shouting around you in response to our praise. “Tell me, with this wedding upcoming this weekend, how many will you be responsible for?”

You paused, only for dramatic effect. The ceiling looked suddenly oh so interesting as you smiled. Then, you guessed, “Twelve?”

“Twelve!” your boss roared, the girls around you jumping up and down with excitement and cheer. 

“Do a speech, a speech!” your deskmate urged, and you only let out a small, playful sigh as everyone died down around you.

You were handed your own glass of champagne, led to the front of the room, and turned to look at all the girls. Girls that you worked with for the past six, almost seven years. Your boss had been doing this job for well over a decade now. There were a few new faces that had just started a few months ago. 

With your glass lifted into the air, you smiled, “Love is all around. It’s easy to find the perfect match for someone.”

They squealed, toasting to you. The cake was brought to you, letting you blow out the candles as if it was your birthday or something– just a tradition your company had for good luck. Something to bring more successful matches and weddings to your clients.

Your two clients, Luke and Jessica, were tying the knot after twelve months of dating, and another four months engaged. One year and four months— which was a relatively short time, but who were you to judge? They both told you they knew the other party was the one after the first date. Who were you to stand in the way of them? 

Just because you were fucking bitter, and jealous that you couldn’t spend time with your own boyfriend despite the fact that Luke and Jessica got together three months after you two did didn’t mean a thing. Not a single thing. 

You masked your growing irritation well with your clients. After all, your performance margins had been going through the roof within the last six months. Your productivity has never been better, your clients have never been happier with your performance, and you have been churning out perfect match after match like you might as well have been Cupid himself. 

Yet, you couldn’t find a single time for your own boyfriend. 

When you had a free night, he didn’t. There was a dinner that he had to get to, one that required secrecy amongst government officials. You understood that. You didn’t hold that against him– especially not when he looked pained to tell you that you couldn’t join him when you offered to come with him the first time he said he had the work dinner. Because you didn’t mind joining him for work related activity. You just wanted to spend time with him, by his side.

But you were a fucking matchmaker. You didn’t have any business being in a government setting, and you knew that. He knew that. The entire government knew that. 

Sometimes it wasn’t even dinner. Sometimes, he wasn’t even in the city. Or the state. Or even the fucking country. Bucky always let you know in advance when he had to travel for work, but there was usually never any chance for the two of you to meet for even a brief look at each other across the road. Just to see each other in person before he had to hop on the plane and head hours away from you.

On the rare occasions Bucky had a free night, you most certainly did not. You had a proposal to plan for. Not a policy or business proposal like he worked on. A marriage proposal. One that had you sneaking around parks in bushes, setting up trails of rose petals, hiring and arguing with musicians– things that you didn’t need your boyfriend around to trail you like a lost puppy asking you if there was something that you needed help with. 

If it wasn’t a proposal, you had another work event. A client on the verge of a breakdown because their date cancelled on them, or some bullshit like that. You would be so close to finally being in your boyfriend’s arms, but you would have to cancel on your own lover to play therapist even though you were severely undereducated and underpaid for the position. 

Bucky was understanding. Too understanding. So understanding that it made you want to bash your head into the wall. 

The two of you had working hours that were strenuous, strange, and demanding. 

Bucky hated his phone, but he still texted you often. Texted you good morning and good night every single day. He reminded you to eat at least twice a day knowing you were only running on the fuel of your own brain to make it through your work hours.

Absence definitely did not make the heart grow fonder. If anything, your heart was growing irritated. Angry. These happy couples around you were pissing you off. 

Each and every single one of your clients that reported to you that they were falling in love with the person that you set them up with, was like another person setting you up for failure. You were a ticking time bomb just ready to explode, and the only one who would ever be able to defuse you is currently locked away in his office with his pretty fucking secretary that you know he doesn’t care about, but spends more time with than you do. 

You’re not jealous of her perse. 

You’ve seen them work together. It’s strictly professional. You don’t know if she has a boyfriend, and you don’t really care if she does or doesn’t– you trust Bucky, bottom line. He hasn’t given you a single reason to not trust him. You know he has eyes for you and you only. What you’re envious of is the time that she gets to have with him. She sees him every single day. She handles his schedule, hands him coffee, speaks to him face to face, sits with him during meetings, and discusses his fucking policies with him. 

You’re jealous of the time that you don’t get to have with your own boyfriend. You haven’t seen him in over a week and a half by this point. Last time you saw him, it was for a brief lunch that lasted forty-two minutes before you both had to run into meetings. Before that, two weeks. 

You scratch angrily into your notebook, then rip the page out. You crumple it up, throwing the wasted piece of paper into the bin with a frustrated groan before scrubbing a hand down your face. 

The time on the clock reads 1:44am.

Bucky should be getting home by this time, you think. Your phone hasn’t rang otherwise. There’s no good night text yet. 

This was easier before. Easier before you got so attached to him. Easier before your world got shifted on its axis, and started to rotate around him, just a little bit. Easier when you didn’t love the man so fucking much. 

You couldn’t dwell on this though. Not when you had to go to sleep. You had somewhere to be tomorrow, and you couldn’t look like death itself. You sent off your own text to him, then let your sorrows and loneliness cuddle you to bed. 

As much as you wanted to wait for him to text you back, you couldn’t. You had a battlefield to get to. A networking event. A bride to maybe convince that she wanted to marry her groom. 

By the end of the wedding, your purse was full of business cards, and your lips were full of promises to call women on Monday to get them on your books as clients. Your face muscles hurt, your feet ached, and your heart was breaking.

Your phone was full of notifications, and not a single one of them was from your loving boyfriend. Did he get JFK’d somewhere? He couldn’t have. It would have been all over the news already if he did. Sam would have called you, too. Besides that, the serum in his veins would have him feeling the murderous intent from a thousand miles away.

You were pretty certain that he wasn’t joking when he said that he assassinated JFK, too. Except, you were drunk when he confessed that to you during a drinking game that you two were doing when you first started dating. You don’t know if you dreamt it. Bucky refuses to comment, like a true politician.

You make it through the rest of the wedding, get invited to the afterparty, decline, and step out into the street to wait for your Uber to arrive. A car pulls up to the curb that you know is not a silver hatchback like the app indicates, so you ignore it–

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone on a Friday night?”

Your head snaps up at the voice. Bucky’s stepping out of the driver’s side, holding a colorful arrangement of fresh summer flowers for you, wrapped in kraft paper, tied off with a bow. He’s dressed in a formal suit– bowtie and everything. You vaguely remember him telling you that there was a gala event that was happening tonight the last time that you two had a chance to speak on the phone. He must have had a chance to slip away from there. 

“Need a ride?” he asked, feet stopping just right before you.

You let out a laugh, looking up at him. You take a moment to admire him. Bucky’s smiling at you. There’s so much love in his eyes for you. There always is. In fact, it seemed as if there was more love there than there was than the last time he saw you. You were certain that there would be double the amount the next time you would meet.

“I have one,” you sighed, deciding to play coy with him. “Coming in about five more minutes.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Five minutes? That’s too long. Shouldn’t make you wait out here for even a second.”

You couldn’t fight back the grin that makes its way onto your face. You close the remaining distance between the two of you, your hand resting on his chest as you lean upwards towards him to meet his lips. Bucky’s hand wraps around your back, holding you to him to stabilize you, a small sigh escaping through his nose. 

“Hi, handsome,” you hummed, parting from him. 

Your smile only widened a little more when Bucky chased after your lips instinctively, wanting more. Wanting another kiss. You gave him just a couple more pecks before you settled the heels of your shoes back onto the cement of the sidewalk. A laugh rumbled through you at the disappointed look on his face.

“How’d you know where my wedding was, Congressman?” you asked, looking back at your phone to cancel the ride. 

“Oh you know. A birdie told me,” Bucky said, shrugging as he moved to open the passenger door for you.

“You had Redwing spy on me?’ you raised an eyebrow at him, stepping into the car..

“More like I had Sam send a trail on you tonight. Don’t know if he used Redwing,” he corrected, holding the flowers out for you to take. 

You rolled your eyes at him as you took the bouquet. He was messing with you, and you knew it. You shared your location with him on your phone a long time ago, and he only just figured out how to use the function of it a few months back. He was even shocked to find out that there was such a feature so easily accessible on regular technology. Bucky even asked you if you had his location. You didn’t, and you told him that you didn’t want it. You figured he would be weirded out by that kind of stuff as a former spy, and you were right. He was more at ease after your reassurance. 

However, he did enjoy the fact that he didn’t have to go through several satellite feeds and camera playbacks to find where you were.

In the car, the music is soft. Low. Something from the forties that you don’t really listen to unless you’re with Bucky. He’s tapping his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, and you find yourself relaxing into the comfortable leather of the seat. 

Neither of you are speaking, nor do you find the need to. 

Bucky knows you. You’re exhausted after an event like this. He used to ask you how the job went, like a mission debrief. To you, it is a mission. This was your battlefield, and you just fought against enemies and kept your cool against a thousand different obstacles that could’ve made the mission go sideways.

He learned over time that you just wanted silence, the same way that he did. Bucky used to think that you wanted to talk after these events, which wasn’t totally wrong. You talked if the event went horribly wrong and you needed to vent your frustration out to someone that wouldn’t get you fired. You talked his ear off because you couldn’t say what you wanted to in front of your own clients.

Bucky misunderstood and thought you wanted to talk after every single event. Eventually, he realized that most of the time, you enjoyed the peace and quiet of a job well done. That you wanted to sit without having to force a smile anymore, to close your eyes, and feel the weight of his hand on your thigh comfortingly as he drove. 

The sound of a text message coming through cut off the music momentarily. Your eyes cracked open, and on the center screen of Bucky’s dashboard, you saw there was a message from Bucky’s one and only friend.

Don’t Respond [12:08am]: Did she find out what you’re doing yet?

“What’s Sam talking about?” you asked, shifting to reach for Bucky’s phone that was in the cupholder. 

Bucky was faster. His hand left your thigh, grabbing the device before you could. He looked at the small screen momentarily, taking his eyes off the road for just a second. Then, you watched as he long pressed the side of his phone, turning it off completely before putting it back in the cupholder.

“Nothing, sweetheart. I’ll text him back later,” Bucky said, giving you a smile before looking back at the road. His hand returned back to its rightful place on your thigh. 

You stared at the side of his face, blinking at him. There was no more music in the car, since his phone was turned off. You were left in silence, just the low thrum of the engine and your thoughts being your only source of entertainment as Bucky turned into your apartment’s parking garage.

Bucky will text him back later? Bucky will text him back later?

No the fuck he won’t. 

As much as Bucky loves new technology like a nerd loves Star Wars, he hates it all at the same time. He thinks it’s disgusting for any sane person to spend the amount of time they do glued to their phones willingly outside of educational and work purposes. He’s a man that had zero choice in life, and he prefers to see the world. If he has free time, there is no way in hell that he will waste it typing away on a tiny screen to text back anyone. 

Except you, of course. He’ll only text and call you.

His reaction was even more strange. Bucky didn’t swat your hand away or anything like that. He didn’t scramble to get to his phone before you did– but he did react. He didn’t answer you. He deflected. He’s always answered your questions to the fullest.

Besides that, this wasn’t anything new between the two of you. You always texted Sam back through Bucky’s phone. When Sam texted, you would read it out loud, Bucky would answer, and you would type what Bucky said, but in a nicer… less aggressive way. In fact, 99% of the conversations Bucky had with Sam through text was done by you. Sam still did not know of that fact, and you were not going to be the one to tell him. 

You’re still reeling in your own thoughts by the time you get to your apartment. 

You shove your downward spiral for just a moment to accept Bucky’s extremely tempting offer to shower together– which is never anything sexual. 

Bucky enjoys the intimacy of being able to hold you, bare, and help you get cleaned from your day. It’s one of his favorite things to do. You revel in the way he takes his time, hands scrubbing at your scalp slowly to lather up the shampoo. He’ll ensure that not a single part of your body goes untouched.

You do the same for him. You take great care in every part of his body. You remember the first time you touched his scars– paid close attention to them. It looked self-inflicted. Nothing like a surgery or done by doctors or scientists, like how he said the arm was attached to him. When you saw his face, you knew you were right.

Every once in a while, you can still see the dark shadow casting over his eyes when your hands run over his shoulders. You simply move to kiss against the scars to quietly remind him that you aren’t afraid of him, and you watch as the shadows fall mercy to the light.

You finish your own skincare routine faster than he does, as per usual. 

“I don’t understand why the hell I have to do this, doll,” he grumbled as you left the bathroom. “I’m over a century old.”

“And I’m trying to make sure that you don’t look like it,” you replied over your shoulder. 

Bucky huffed, but continued with the routine that you strictly put him on. He complained, but he never went against your words. You knew that he was still following it even when he wasn’t spending the night at your place, too. He’s always been a handsome man, but you would say that he’s been leveled up even more since you came around.

While he’s distracted, you move towards his bag. 

You don’t distrust him, but you’re not stupid either. Turning off his phone, saying things out of character– yeah. Something is different. What’s even weirder is that he doesn’t have any of his usual things with him. There’s only his laptop. He doesn’t have any of his regular written notebooks or calendars that he usually carries around with him. The man loves his written, visual items. He likes to flip through pages and see things with his own eyes, to be able to edit with a pen instead of a tap of his fingers.

You hear the last cap of the bottle close, and shut his bag. You’re only left with more questions as you move his bag towards the hanger where your own purses hang.

“Ah– sorry,” Bucky apologized, seeing you move his stuff. 

“It’s alright,” you hummed, thankful you were able to play off your snooping.

The two of you move towards your bed, sliding under the sheets. You settled into his arms naturally, assuming the position that the two of you had found most comfortable in the almost two years of dating. Your head rested on his bicep like it was a pillow, his metal arm coming around you to wrap around your waist to keep you cool against his furnace of a body. 

“You ever respond to Sam?” you whispered into his chest, closing your eyes to snuggle closer into him.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, moving to grab his phone from the nightstand behind him. You immediately shifted, just slightly– to try and see the screen.

But so did he.

With one hand, he angled his phone so that it was distorted. The brightness was down low enough that you weren’t able to properly see the messages between both men. However, you saw him silence the chat. You saw the swipe of his thumb, and the icon that signified a silenced message.

Then, Bucky put his phone face down on the nightstand before returning to you.

“Good night, doll,” he murmured to you, hand moving to tilt your head up to him. He kissed you once, twice, a third time before settling back against the pillow. “I love you.”

“Night,” you whispered back, though your mind was everything but asleep. Suspicion was creeping up on you. You could feel it– the sign of something coming. You pushed your gut feeling down. “I love you, too.”

Bucky ❤︎ [2:48pm]: What days do you think are your most free days right now?

You paused, staring at the text on your screen. This is different. This isn’t a text that you normally received from Bucky. Especially not in the middle of the work day, either. Momentarily, you want to entertain the idea that someone stole his phone, but you were certain that someone would be injured or dying if they even got close to ever trying to rob Bucky.

Me [2:50pm]: Are you asking me on a date, Congressman?

Bucky ❤︎ [2:53pm]: I’m trying to plan one instead of our random spontaneous ones, yes. Can you let me know what days work best for you so I can look at my calendar?

Last time he ‘planned’ a date, the two of you went to Romania for your first year anniversary for a week. You didn’t even realize that’s what he meant by planning a date until you were at the fucking airport with no luggage. Except he packed for you, had your passport, and everything else you could possibly need. You were just completely oblivious to the entire thing. 

Me [2:54pm]: Is this a trip kinda date?

Bucky ❤︎ [2:55pm]: No, but I do need two days of your time.

Me [2:56pm]: You’re asking for a lot, handsome.

Bucky ❤︎ [3:01pm]: I promise I’ll be worth it.

You smile at your phone at his words. Of course he’ll be worth it. You take a moment to go through your calendar, flipping back and forth between all your different events. You cross check between client meetings, event plannings, meetings with your coworkers and boss, and then text him back with your response. 

Me [3:12pm]: Weekends are really bad right now. Mondays, too. Wednesdays are also surprisingly bad… Tuesdays and Thursdays are the best. Fridays are a hit and miss.

Bucky ❤︎ [3:25pm]: Tuesdays are bad for me. Rep. dinners on Tuesday nights and Wednesday morning debriefs. Can you block out Thursday and Friday for me two months from now? The 17th and 18th. I’ll give you more details about our date when it comes closer.

Two months? That’s more than enough time to block out. You’ll even take the weekend off for good measure, just in case. Still, two months is a long time to prepare for just a date. You can’t help but tease him a little bit.

Me [3:27pm]: You don’t plan on seeing me for two months? :( 

Bucky ❤︎ [3:30pm]: You’re funny. We’ll still have our random and spontaneous dates. Like tonight. I’m picking you up for dinner. Don’t call a ride after work.

Excitement flutters in your chest. You saw him four days ago, but you’re still happy. 

Time is thankfully on your side today, and he’s waiting for you outside your company’s building. You’re starved for food, for his affection, attention, and everything in between. 

Except all of that dies once his phone rings in the middle of dinner. Bucky silences it, and you see the screen. It has a name that you don’t recognize, then his phone goes faced down onto the table. A few moments later, it buzzes, indicating there was a voicemail left. Bucky swipes the device, pocketing it safely away. 

You’re really trying to not let this bother you. But change doesn’t just happen overnight, and this is Bucky’s personal phone. This isn’t even his work phone. He leaves his work phone in his bag, permanently silenced when he’s not working. This is his phone that he carries with him that he purposely ignores, that is only supposed to have two contacts in it– yours and Sams.

Bucky drove back to your apartment, even though his apartment is closer to the restaurant that he chose for the two of you to eat at tonight. 

You’re lying awake in his arms that night, listening to the sounds of Bucky’s soft snores as he sleeps beside you. It took him a long time to be able to sleep first between the two of you. You used to see how long you could stay up, to see if you could fall asleep after him. The first time he fell asleep on your lap, you almost cried.

Now, you’re staring at his sleeping face wondering if he thinks you’re a fucking idiot. 

The signs are right there. All the blaring signs are screaming in your face, loud and angry. The hidden phone screen, calls, and texts. Hiding his calendar, and all his written notes from you. The sudden trip planning, even though there was nothing special about two months from now. Two months was your twenty third month together. Not even the second year anniversary. 

Yeah, Bucky thought you were stupid.

The biggest sign? You’re currently sleeping in your own bed, and not in his. He’s hiding something in his apartment that he doesn’t want you to find—

An engagement ring. 

You go through Bucky’s drawers like those are your own clothes to wear because they are, and he loves to see you in his shirts. You once spent an entire weekend properly organizing his apartment in a way that made sense because his junk drawer consisted of bullets and lego pieces from when Sam’s nephews came over.

You once found guns and daggers in his apartment just by dropping pens and searching for them. There’s absolutely no way that Bucky can hide a velvet box anywhere in his apartment from you that you won’t accidentally stumble across. Hell– you found a loaded nine millimeter in your own apartment, and asked what the hell it was doing there. 

“Safety,” is all he answered with.

This was your job. This is what you did for a living. You helped other boyfriends hide proposals from girlfriends like this. This is exactly what you did– this is how you told them to do it, though you were a little more slick with it. You definitely made sure your clients weren’t hiding their phones from their potential fiance’s, that’s for sure. 

You made sure that your clients did not know that they were being proposed to. It was your mission, honestly. You saw enough of those TikTok’s where women truly had that gut feeling where they knew it was happening. You refused. It needed to be a surprise. You scouted out every single person in your client’s lives to ensure that every single moment would come to be a surprise. From ensuring that their nails would be done to the ring itself- everything would be perfect. 

Your boyfriend of almost two years was planning on proposing to you in two months, and he thought you wouldn’t find out? Jesus Christ– what were you going to do with him?

Marry him, you supposed.

If you were anyone else, if you were any less stable in your emotions, you would’ve thought he was cheating on you. Hiding his phone definitely made your eyebrow twitch for half a second, if you were being honest. Thankfully, you were able to maintain a rational and sane mind.

Sane was an overstatement. You were now planning an entire wedding in your head without the engagement ring on your finger. You were anything but sane. Insanity was taking over every single cell in your brain as you stared at Bucky, imagining your future. The thought made you extremely giddy. 

A smile crept up on the corner of your lips as you moved into the warmth of his embrace. His arms tightened around you instinctively, and he let out a soft, contented sigh.

You can’t keep it to yourself as the date starts coming closer and closer. 

Mel, who has graduated as your client and now has become your friend, is sitting in your apartment, telling you about her most recent date with her boyfriend of six months. Not in a way that she would when you were her matchmaker, but as friends would. You find yourself liking this arrangement much, much more.

“Enough about me though,” she grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Tell me about you and Bucky. How are things going?”

“You really wanna talk about the guy that your boss hates?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her as you take a sip out of your own glass.

“I can separate work from girl talk,” Mel said, smiling at you. 

“Well,” you said, smiling at her, “If you’re free the rest of the evening, I was wondering if you wanted to get your nails done with me?”

“Nails?” Mel repeated, raising her eyebrows at you as she brought the glass to her lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I think Bucky’s gonna propose to me on Thursday.”

Her eyes widened as she choked on her wine, the alcohol spluttering back into the glass. You couldn’t hold back a laugh before you jumped to your feet. You turned, rushing to grab paper towels from your kitchen to wipe off her face before it dripped, and stained her clothes. 

“Shit– shit! I’m so sorry,” she coughed, patting her face. 

“It’s okay,” you said between laughter, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Do you– do you want more wine?”

“Do I want– No! What? We need to go to the salon now! One of us needs to drive! Why the hell don’t you have a car again?!”

“Uh… I just… order a ride everywhere, or Bucky drives me,” you answered her, sheepish. “I’ll just order us a ride, we’ve both had a glass already. We don’t need to drive there, Mel.”

“Must be nice–”

A knock on your door makes you both pause. You move, going to check the peephole and find your boyfriend standing there with a box in his hands. You rip the door open, shocked.

“Bucky?” you asked, surprised. “Don’t you have a dinner to get to soon? It’s Tuesday.” 

“Yes, but I wanted to drop this off to you,” he said, giving you a smile. He leaned over the box, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Just a present. Saw it, thought it would look nice on you.”

“What is it?” you asked as he transferred over the gift box to you.

“A dress,” he shrugged. “What are you up to today?”

“Mel’s here,” you said, opening the door further so he could see her. He looked past you, giving her a small wave that you’re certain that she returned back. “We’re about to go get our nails done. I was about to order a ride.”

“Oh? Don’t do that. I’ll just drop you two off. You’ll go the place you always do, right? It’s on the way to the dining hall,” he said.

“What? I don’t want you to be late,” you said, frowning at him. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky insisted, shaking his head. “They can start without me. Talbot is late more than a few times anyways.”

“It’s true,” Mel said from behind you. You turned around to look at her, finding that she was gathering her jacket and purse. “Talbot is always late.”

“See? Thank you, Mel.” There’s a bit of a gloating tone to his voice that makes you smack his arm. Bucky chuckled in response, a smile settling over his face. “Come on now, grab your stuff so we can get down to the car so I’m not too late for the meeting.”

You sighed, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to change his mind and get him to leave you. You put the box on the counter to inspect once you return later, and snatch your purse from where it’s resting on the table. Both you and Mel follow Bucky down to the car. He holds open the back door for both of you to climb into the backseat like he’s your chauffeur, and not your boyfriend.

Bucky drives in silence, you and Mel scrolling through pinterest hurriedly during the car ride for inspiration pictures for your nails while trying to be subtle about the fact that you know that you’re getting proposed to. Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice that you know, though.

Once he pulls up to the salon, Mel thanks him for the ride and slides out. You lean over the console to give him a kiss, and he grabs your hand, stopping you.

His card is slid into your palm, and his lips are pressed against your knuckles.

“I’ll pay for you and Mel,” he said, giving you one more smile.

You want to race down the aisle right at that moment. 

Instead, you get your nails done with Mel, swallow down butterflies that are forcing their way up your throat, and get to the restaurant that Bucky told you to meet him at while he runs late at his last meeting before your date. 

It’s a beautiful skyline restaurant in the middle of New York that your own company can’t even secure a date at. You’ve tried multiple times. In fact, your own clients have wanted to get proposals done at this restaurant. It just couldn’t be done. Reservations were booked out at least a year in advance, and somehow Bucky was able to secure the two of you a spot with two months to spare. 

There’s live music playing here by world renowned musicians. The chefs are even more well known. The lighting was low so that it wouldn’t take away from the view outside the windows. The time of night that Bucky chose was perfect– New York was lit up like stars on the ground from the table that you were sitting at. 

You were dressed in the gift Bucky bought for you. A backless, square neckline gown. The straps came up and wrapped around your neck like a halter top would, and tied around the back in a thin bow, the long straps kissing down your bare spine. It was soft and airy against your skin. 

Bucky arrived earlier than you expected, but you were sure he was still later than he wanted to be. Either way, he still had another bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands for you that you two had placed under the table. Of course, he didn’t take a seat before giving you a kiss for a greeting, and murmuring his apology for not being able to pick you up.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling at you. “I didn’t think you would wear it tonight.”

“I thought you bought it for me to wear tonight?” you asked as he placed the flowers under the table. You watched as he sat down across from you. 

“Mm… Well, I bought it for you to wear,” he said, reaching his hand across the table. You easily slipped your hand into his, watching him bring your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. “When you wear it doesn’t matter to me. I just wanted to get you a present.”

“A present?” you echoed, unable to stop smiling. “Even though you already do so much for me?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t want to do more for you, sweetheart,” he hummed. 

The waiter came by not a moment later, letting you know that the first course would be coming out momentarily. You both thanked him, and returned back to each other. 

“I feel like I don’t see you as much these days,” Bucky said, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. 

“It’s been really busy for the two of us,” you agreed, releasing a soft sigh. 

“I even contemplated hiring you as a matchmaker again, just so I could block out meetings and have you in my office again,” he joked, making you laugh. 

“That would be fraudulent, Congressman,” you teased, shaking your head. “For you and me.”

“What are they gonna do? Threaten to fire you again?” 

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face is firmly planted, and isn’t moving anytime soon. 

“You know our dates don’t always have to be somewhere big or fancy, right?” you tell him, your voice softer.

“So you keep telling me,” he hummed, squeezing your hand a little bit. “I know, sweetheart. You said this to me. Several times. I just want to do this for you. For me, too.”

You soften a little bit at his words. You’re gently reminded of a previous confession he told you from when you first started dating. 

You told him that you were more than happy to just get takeout with him on busier days. To get fast food or something quick, if it meant that you two would have more time to spend together. You didn’t always have to sit down and eat somewhere nice. He said that he knew that, and he liked doing that, too. But as a kid in the forties, he always wanted to be the kind of man that was able to spoil his girl rotten– to bring his woman to the best places and sign the check without batting an eye.

This kind of thing was healing for him, too.

“We can get burgers tomorrow,” Bucky said, giving you a smile. 

“Deal,” you grinned at him. 

The first course of your meal was brought out to the two of you. You two never spoke about work over food. It was your rule. You talked about everything else. Sam. Mel. Your parents and siblings. The conversation Bucky overheard while he was in line getting coffee the other day. 

There was always a lot to talk about when you two never saw each other. Then again, you were certain that you would ever run out of words even if you spent every waking moment with him. If there ever came to be a time when that was the case, you were more than happy to spend the rest of eternity in a peaceful silence with him, as long as you were able to hold him. 

Topics never ran dry between the two of you. More than once, you two needed to remind yourselves to shut the fuck up in this fancy establishment because there were sophisticated people around you having very nice meals. 

“I’ll book a private room next time,” Bucky said under his breath.

“I don’t think they’ll let us come back, babe,” you whispered between soft, gasping laughs. “The host is glaring at us.”

That only made Bucky snort, which made you have to cover your own mouth in return before another fit of giggles wrecked through your body. It took everything in the both of you to compose yourselves before dessert was brought out. 

Once your table was cleared off, and you were left with just your wine glasses and the centerpiece on the table, you and Bucky smiled at each other. You were strangely reminded of your first date with him. So you told him that.

“This reminds you of our first date?” he said, his nose crinkling just slightly. “How so?”

“Mm… The ambiance,” you said, shrugging just a bit. You rested your chin in your palm. “You. Me.”

“It’s always you and me on our dates, sweethearts. Who else would it be?” he sarcastically joked, rolling his eyes at you.

“You know what I mean,” you scoffed at him, watching him smile a bit. “I just… feel a bit nostalgic. Just a… who knew, kinda thing.”

“I knew,” Bucky said, making you pause for a second.

“You knew?” you repeated his words, raising an eyebrow at him. Your heart picked up speed just a little bit. This felt like the start of a speech– the start to the speech.

Bucky cleared his throat, and your chest grew tighter at the sound. He shifted in his seat, and you watched as his hand dipped into his pocket. Oh, shit. It’s coming. Your eyes shot back to his face, and your mouth went dry.

“I thought you were the matchmaker, sweetheart. You didn’t know that we would end up together?” he clicked his tongue at you. “I knew I couldn’t trust a matchmaker that didn’t have a boyfriend of her own.”

“I have a boyfriend now, don’t I?” you asked, but thought– Not for long.

He smiled, eyes meeting yours. Then, a velvet box is produced. Placed right on the table in front of you. You can’t bring yourself to look down at it, not when Bucky is still looking at you.

“I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And it’s getting really fucking hard when I can’t see you all the time because we both live on opposite sides of the city, and have awful work schedules that keep us apart. Even so, I love you so much and I can’t imagine being with anyone else,” he confessed to you. Bucky takes in a deep breath that slightly shakes before he whispers out your name, nervous, “Will you move in with me?”

You freeze.

What the fuck?

“Move in with you?” you echoed, blinking.

Bucky opens the box. It’s a key. A shiny, silver key.

“I bought a penthouse in Manhattan,” Bucky said, sliding the box over to you to inspect the key even closer. “I want to see you more often. Not just the random dates when we both have time– I want to sleep next to you every night, and wake up to you in the mornings.”

“A penthouse… In Manhattan,” you said slowly. 

Your brain was short circuiting. In fact, it was fried. Gone.  You were still staring at the key, lips parted. He… wasn’t proposing to you tonight?

“I’m sorry. Am I– Are we moving too fast?” Bucky suddenly asked you, and you could hear the panic in his voice. 

Your head snapped up to look at him. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, eyes scanning all over your face. You slapped yourself mentally. You could only imagine how you looked just now– staring at him and the key with a blank look on your face, and giving him no answer.

“What? No! No, Bucky– we’re not moving too fast at all,” you reassured him, hands darting across the table to take his hands in yours. “Most couples our age move in together by the first year or so. Mel and her boyfriend are already planning on moving in together when Mel’s lease breaks in a couple months.”

Bucky lets out a breath of relief, and you watch as his shoulders drop. You feel guilt surge through you at the pure stress that is released from his body at that moment.

“God– I just… You know, the penthouse… It’s fully furnished. I’ve been– Sam has been helping me out, actually. He helped me meet with some realtors, get the place fully furnished and decorated,” Bucky said, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ve been living there for the past two and a half months while waiting for all the furniture to come in, and it’s finally all finished as of yesterday and it never occurred to me that you could possibly say no until just now.”

“You’ve been– Is that why you take me back to my apartment after our dates? Instead of yours?” you asked, surprised.

“I already got rid of my other place, sweetheart,” he said, giving you a small, anxious smile. You can see him bouncing his leg up and down just slightly. “Got the penthouse so that we could have enough space for your stuff and mine.”

“You took me out to a fancy dinner, and prepared a speech for me to ask me to move in with you?” you whispered, your heart feeling fuller by the minute.

“I grew up in a time where couples didn’t move in together until after they were married, doll,” Bucky reminded you, his voice small and soft. 

You’re speechless, for just a moment. You take your eyes off of him, to look down at the key in the box, a smile finding its way on your face. You look back up at him, watching as he mirrors your own smile.

“I think it’s time to head home, Congressman.”

Bucky trails behind you quietly as you step into the penthouse. The elevator directly leads to your home– something that you had only ever seen in movies before. You barely took a step into the rest of the home before you were running numbers into your head.

“What’s my share of the bills?” you asked, heart racing as you look up at the high ceilings. “And don’t you dare tell me not to worry about it, Bucky. If we’re living together, then we’re splitting bills. I don’t care that you make more money than me–”

“We’ll talk about finances later, baby,” he cut you off, hands rubbing your shoulders to soothe you. “We’ll split it equally based on our incomes. Just go explore for right now.”

“I don’t know if I can afford this, Bucky,” you said, turning around to look at him. You were freaking out.

“Your salary was put into play when I got this place,” he said, cradling your face. “Sam and I met with the banks. We met with financial advisors to ensure that this would be feasible for both you and me. Please don’t ask how we got your information.”

“Is there a loan–”

“There’s no loan,” he assured you. “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” you answered instantly. 

Bucky gave you a smile, then pressed a kiss to your lips. You melted into his embrace, feeling your worries wash away with just one touch. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back comfortingly. When he pulled away, another kiss was pressed to your forehead. 

“I’ll give you all the documents later to look over. If you still hate it, then we’ll break the lease, and we’ll find somewhere else. I don’t care where we live. I just want to be somewhere that’s with you,” he promised. 

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding. 

Bucky’s hands leave your body, and he steps away from you. He’s quietly urging you to take a look around. 

You had two floors to explore. The elevator opened up the first floor, where there was an open concept condo. You were staring at a living room, kitchen, floor to ceiling windows, and there were built-in shelves on the wall that held Bucky’s books– and had empty spaces for your own books. Down here, there were two doors– one leading to a half bath and the other leading to a home office. 

You saw two desks, separated by a bookshelf. Bucky’s desk was already occupied with his things, while yours was empty and waiting to be used. On the shelf were pictures and other momentos collected by Bucky over the duration of your relationship so far. There was space for you to decorate with whatever you pleased. On the other end of the room was a daybed and some other furniture to cozy up the area. 

Upstairs, there was a platform for another lounge area. Also furnished to hang out in case the two of you ever had any guests come over. Here, your bedroom was behind a closed door. 

A king sized bed was in the middle of the room, along with two nightstands on either side of it. There was a full walk in closet, Bucky already having his stuff hanging on his side with yours waiting to be filled. The windows are touching the floor just like they are outside, and Bucky has the curtains pulled back so you can see the city lights from your bedroom window. 

“What if I get fired?” you whispered, Bucky’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind. “I won’t be able to pay my share of the bills.”

“I’ll pay then,” he said, pressing kisses to your bare shoulder and neck.

“What if you get fired? Or what if you quit? Join Sam and return back to action?” you asked, heart racing. 

Bucky chuckled against your neck, squeezing you against him. 

“Iron Man’s late wife donates a large portion every year to the heroes that do the work. If that’s me, then we’ll be fine,” he promised you. “It’s how Sam gets paid right now.”

“Oh,” you breathed, nodding a little dumbly. You tilted your head to the side, allowing him more access to more skin. You felt him smile against you. 

“You like the place then?”

“I can’t believe you hid this from me.”

“I hide you from the entire American government so you can continue to walk the streets of New York without being asked about politics that you don’t care about. I hid Romania from you. I think I can hide an apartment,” he listed off, scoffing softly at the end.

All of your hair is gathered in one of his hands to get it out of his way as he continues to press dizzying, nipping kisses against your body.

“A penthouse,” you managed to correct.

“Same thing,” he muttered, and you felt him tug on the string of your dress. A moment later, the soft fabric was sliding down your body, and pooling at your feet, “C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta christen the place.”

You’re being turned around to face him, and your arms move to slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. Bucky’s lips met yours in an opened mouthed kiss halfway, tongue gliding over yours easily. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you sighed into his mouth, feeling his hands glide up and down the sides of your body. Something about him being fully dressed, and you with nearly nothing at all did something to the both of you.

Your fingers grabbed onto the collar of his dress shirt, tugging him into a deeper, needier kiss. Bucky groaned into your mouth in response, hands finding purchase on the flesh of your ass. His fingers dug into the supple skin, making you moan softly as he groped you.

Your boyfriend gently pushed you until your back was pressed against the window. Once you were situated where he wanted you, Bucky parted from your lips, only to attach himself to your neck once again. He kept shifting, moving down to your collarbones, your chest, your sternum. Lower. 

You watched helplessly, every inch of you thrumming with desire and need as Bucky slowly shifted to his knees in front of you. His hands moved down your body, dragging your underwear down your legs as he positioned himself to sit back on his feet, thighs spread just a bit for comfort. You’re certain your breathing was erratic as you stared at him.

Usually, you were the one on your knees for Bucky. This was different– this was new. You were more than certain that you would still be the one at his mercy.

“Don’t your feet hurt in these heels?” Bucky asked, hand closing around one of your ankles to lift your foot off the ground slightly. “They look uncomfortable. Very tall.”

“It’s not too bad,” you whispered, unable to trust your voice to speak any louder. “I like these shoes.”

“I bought them for you,” he said, tilting his head as he examined the design a little closer.

“That’s why I like them,” you murmured.

Bucky chuckled just a little bit, shaking his head. He moved slowly on purpose, undoing the strap around your ankle and slowly pulling it off of your foot like you were some sort of princess. He gently led your foot back down to the floor, keeping an eye on your posture to make sure you didn’t suddenly fall from the shift in height. When he was certain that you were stable, he switched over to the next foot, repeating the same process.

Except, he didn’t put your foot back onto the ground. Bucky lifted your leg higher, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle, eyes closing as he did. When they opened, he met your gaze, never looking away as his kisses went higher and higher up your leg. He settled your knee to hook around his shoulder, moving to fully kneel before you as his hands went to grab your waist, keeping you pressed against the glass behind you. A firm, tight grip. 

You wouldn’t be able to run from whatever he was about to do to you. Not that you would ever want to.

If he wasn’t holding you up, you were certain you would’ve folded over and collapsed the second his tongue met your heat. The vibrations from the groan sent shockwaves through your entire body that made you tremble above him, hands darting to grab onto his shoulders for an extra form of stability as his tongue parted your folds and flattened against you.

“Shit, Bucky,” you moaned, your mind going blank. All you could feel was him. 

His tongue dipping just slightly in and out of your aching hole, only to drag up to your sensitive clit to swirl figure eights around the nub. Bucky’s hands on your torso, his thumbs  drawing circles into your skin to soothe you against the stimulation he was giving you. The heat of his body radiating against yours from where he was positioned beneath you. 

“Your pussy is squeezing around nothing, baby,” he murmured, pulling away from your core for just a moment, a whine ripping through your throat in response. Bucky clicked his tongue at you, and kissed the inside of your thigh to subdue you. “Have I been neglecting you? Not fucking you enough for you to be so needy?”

Definitely not. Maybe it was the fact that everything was crashing down on you. The fact Bucky went so far to secure the two of you an entire home without you knowing, furnishing the whole place, meeting with financial advisors– all of it made you incredibly desperate for him. 

It was like that one time when you watched him do the dishes for the first time at the beginning of your relationship. He was at your apartment, doing your dishes that you were too lazy to do before he came over. You don’t know what the hell happened to you at that moment, but you just watched him. The second the water turned off, you were unzipping his pants and giving him head. It confused him, but he also wasn’t complaining. 

“I’m always needy for you,” you barely managed to answer him.

Bucky’s lips parted, eyes scanning your figure above him for a few moments. Then, one of his hands left your waist, and two fingers were shoved into you without a single warning. 

A moan ripped through your throat, and you weren’t given a chance to even recover before his mouth was back on your clit, sucking and flicking at the sensitive nub. His fingers entered and exited you at a delicious speed, and he could feel you coming apart around him. Your body was beginning to tremble, walls beginning to shake– and he curled his fingers the way he knew you liked.

You came undone, Bucky’s hand moving to press against your stomach to keep you from collapsing forward. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you whimpered his name, tugging on his hair weakly to pull away from your overstimulated body. 

Reluctantly, he released you. Bucky’s hands never left you as he stood, keeping you upright. Your legs were still shaking when you had both feet on the ground, but fuck if you were going to let Bucky stay dressed. 

You had every intention of returning the favor once Bucky was just as bare as you were. Bucky saw it in your eyes, too. The way your gaze dropped down his torso to his cock that was stiff and high up against his stomach, waiting for you. You barely moved your hair to the side before you were being spun back around, chest pressed to the glass– eyes to the view of the New York city skyline. 

“Next time, doll,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade that made you shiver. You let out a small moan as you felt him drag the length of his dick through your folds, coating himself in your slick to get him ready to enter. “Gotta be inside you right now or I might go insane.”

“Hurry up, then,” you whined to him, pressing your ass back further into him. A mistake, and you knew it. Not that it really was a mistake on your end though.

His hand came around from your stomach, gripping your throat and jaw, pulling you back into him. Your back was arched, hands resting on the glass for some sort of security in the position he had you in. Bucky forced your head to turn, to look at him. 

Bucky wanted to watch your face contort with pleasure as he finally slid in, watch as you fell apart as he speared you full with his cock. There was a look of satisfaction and fucking arrogance in his eyes with the way your mouth fell open in a noiseless moan. Bucky took advantage of it, shoving his tongue into your mouth to swallow up any of the noises that he knew would start coming once his hips started moving.

You couldn’t keep up– not with his kiss, not with the pacing– not with anything that was happening right now. His hips were snapping into yours at such a brutal pace, his metal hand gripping your hip to keep you in place, and you barely managed to pull away from his lips to breathe. 

“So good– so good,” he groaned as you turned back to the glass, chin falling to your chest for a moment as you moaned in response. 

Bucky didn’t let your head hang for too much longer. He pulled your head back up to look out the window, and you could feel his breath against your ear as he continued to pound his hips from behind you.

“Isn’t the view so nice, baby?” he whispered to you.

“Wh… what?” you moaned, mind spiraling for just a moment.

“It’s so nice,” he continued, grunting behind you, “I know your pussy loves it– loves it when I fuck you in front of all of New York to see.”

Excitement shoots through you, and you unexpectedly clamped around him. Bucky’s hips stuttered as he cursed softly. You were close– again– and Bucky wasn’t making this any better for you. Then again, you almost just brought Bucky over the edge with you.

“Shit. I knew you were a fucking freak when you tried giving me head in front of my coworkers,” Bucky muttered, a small laugh falling from his lips.

“Bucky,” you whimpered. “I’m so close–”

“It’s too bad. New York can’t have you,” he cut you off, pulling out of you. 

The sense of loss is immediate, but not for long. Once more, he’s spinning you around. This time, he’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing at all. Your legs are wrapping around his waist immediately, and he’s sinking you back down on his length within seconds. 

Your lips are collided with Bucky as he’s fucking you against the window now, holding you up in his arms as you hang onto him for dear life. Your fingernails are digging into the muscles of his shoulders, scratching down his chest in a way that he once admitted that he loves, and you’re moaning into each other’s mouths.

The thrusts are growing sloppier as the kiss grows messier– there’s no need for words between the two of you anymore. You both know your tells at this point.

Bucky angles his hips just slightly to hit that one spot in you, forcing you over the edge as his own orgasm threatens to take him. Your body seizes, and you can’t kiss him back anymore. Bucky busies himself with your neck, leaving marks on your skin as he fucks you through your high, chasing his own that comes just moments later, coating your walls and dripping down onto the new floors of your new room together.

You’re still panting and trying to catch your breath, head dropped onto his shoulder when Bucky moves, carrying you to the bathroom to clean up. His kisses are softer as he walks over, his words more gentle. His body separates from yours as he rests you on the edge of the bathtub so he can start the water to fill the tub.

“How’s the view?” Bucky asked you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

A soft laugh rips through you, and you can feel him smile against your skin.

“The view is perfect, handsome.”

You didn’t find a single number out of place in the documents he presented you either. You took an entire weekend going over the numbers while Bucky watched you quietly. He didn’t bother you while you did so. In fact, he just stayed nearby and took the days off work, too. Bucky answered any questions that you possibly could’ve had for him, already knowing what you would’ve thrown his way.

Which only made your heart grow fonder for him, if you were being honest. He knew you like the back of his hand.

Once you were satisfied with everything, he helped you move all your stuff from your previous apartment over to your new home. Bucky timed the move in perfectly– your lease was about to break the following month, so you had just the right amount of time to tie up all your loose ends. 

All you really had to move over to the new place was your wardrobe, books, and sentimentals. You found out very quickly that during your random dates where Bucky would come home with you, he started taking stock of all your little things around the house. Anything that was running low, he just went ahead and bought so it was already at your new home, ready for you to use.

The last couple weeks were spent with you listing all your unneeded furniture up on the marketplace for an extra few bucks. Things like your dining table, sofa, coffee table– everything that Bucky had already bought and decorated for your home together. 

“You know this couch?” Sam asked you as he flopped down on it. “And the coffee table? The rug? Those barstools? The fucking light fixtures?”

You and Bucky invited him and his girlfriend over for dinner for a small celebration– a little get together to commemorate the fact that you and Bucky were officially fully moved in together now. 

“What about it?” you asked, handing him a bottle of beer.

“I picked it. Me. Bucky just swiped his card. You’re so fucking lucky, matchmaker. Your boyfriend sucks. If I wasn’t there– shit. You would’ve had clashing colors and patterns in this luxury penthouse,” Sam scoffed, taking a long swig. “I had a fucking headache just standing there. The sales associate thought we were married the way I was arguing with him in the store.”

“You two basically are,” you said, grinning against the rim of your own bottle.

“Don’t say that,” Bucky muttered, a shudder running through his body. “I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life with that idiot.”

“God, I’m glad we agree,” Sam groaned, shaking his head. 

“We picked more neutral stuff,” Bucky told you, sitting beside you on the couch. An arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. “We thought it would be easier for you to add whatever additions or colors you’d want in the future.”

“Oh, so you did think about me when you purchased an entire penthouse and furnished the whole damn thing without telling me,” you teased. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “Yes, sweetheart. I thought of you.”

With the two of you living together now, it was easier for you both to see each other. You reveled in the fact you could fall asleep every night in his arms, even if you went to bed first. He didn’t want you waiting for him if he had an event that had him staying out late, but you would often wake up to him pulling you into his embrace.

In the mornings, Bucky would usually be the one to wake up and leave first. 

You no longer set an alarm on your phone. Bucky’s sweet kisses were your wake up call every morning. He wouldn’t leave until you kissed him back, no matter how long it took you to wake up. 

“Morning,” you would whisper to him.

“Morning,” he’d reply, kissing you one more time for good measure. “I made you breakfast. It’s on the table.”

“Wake me up earlier tomorrow so I can eat with you,” you whined to him, though you just rolled over on your side, closing your eyes again.

Bucky chuckled, leaning over your body to press a kiss to your temple. You sighed, letting the morning wash over you for just one more moment before you pushed up off the bed. You’d follow him downstairs, watch him grab his blazer off the seat of the dining table, and you’d tie his tie for him at the door.

“I’ll be home early tonight. I don’t have any events today,” you said, smoothing out the fabric on his chest.

“You’ve been coming home early every night,” he said, raising his eyebrow at you.

“So have you, Congressman. Almost like there’s something you’re running from. Something you’re avoiding at work?” you teased, smiling at him.

“No. Just trying to get home to you,” he hummed, smoothing out your bedhead with both hands before he held your face gently to kiss you one more time before he went off into the world.

This was your new daily morning routine. 

The trade off on coming home early meant that you still had to do work when you came home. Both of you. However, Bucky seemed to plan for that, which is why he had a room specifically made for a home office for the two of you. 

You two would spend your evenings there before dinner for a few hours, finishing up any work that you weren’t able to do at your respective offices. You two would be silently working on your own jobs.

You, researching your clients preferences and trying to match them up based on their profiles. You would also be looking up the best date spots, trying to keep up with the latest trends for dating, and making sure that you weren’t falling behind on anything else.

Bucky would be going through packets upon packets of different meetings that he would have attended. There were several different duties that he had acquired since you first started dating, and there were a lot of responsibilities that he had started shouldering. You were certain that he was also helping Sam on the side, though he couldn’t tell you full details as per usual. 

Usually, you would stop working when you heard Bucky stop working and open the door to the office. He normally ordered food for the two of you, and would go out to the lobby to pick it up, and bring it back for you two to eat.

It was your signal to put everything down, and relax with him for the rest of the night.

You heard him close his binder, heard the wheels of his chair roll backwards, but you didn’t hear the elevator open and close to signify his departure down. You shook it off– wondering if he just went off to the bathroom or something.

Then, you felt him behind you. 

Bucky’s chest was pressed against your back, enveloping you in his warmth. His hands were on your shoulders, and as always, the left side of your body was colder from the touch of his metal prosthetic. 

“Hi, handsome,” you said, a smile coming onto your face. “Is it time for dinner?”

“Almost. Delivery is on its way,” he answered you.

His hands slid down your shoulders, goosebumps rising on your bare skin as his hands moved all the way down to cover your own hands. He left his hands on top of yours, and you hummed, happy to feel him all over you for just a moment. Bucky’s head pressed against the side of yours, then he dropped his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to give him more space to rest. He took it, burrowing deeper into you.

“Yeah. Just a little nervous,” he murmured into your skin, taking a breath. 

You were about to ask him what he was talking about, to turn around and look at him properly. Then, you felt his hands slide up just a little bit, resting now on your wrists instead of covering your hands completely. Except, there was a weight he left behind that wasn’t there before. Your eyes shifted downwards, and your breath caught in your throat at the ring he slipped onto your finger– the cool metal that he masked with the metal of his own arm.

Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes widened at the sparkling star on your finger. Bucky plucked this thing out of the fucking sky– he had to. There was no way. 

“Marry me, sweetheart?” he asked softly. There was a slight tremor to his voice that you caught. A slight shaking in his right hand that you could feel. 

You couldn’t repeat what you did at the restaurant, make him freak out with worry over your quiet shock and silence.

Your sudden jolt into standing surprised him, but he didn’t seem to mind when you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, then his cheeks, his eyes– everywhere you could as tears were beginning to well up and spill over. You couldn’t help it. You felt Bucky’s anxiety release with each kiss, his hands resting on your waist to hold you against him.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, smiling at you.

“Why would I ever say no to you?” you demanded, making him laugh. “Fuck– I thought you were going to propose to me at the restaurant when you asked me to move in with you!”

“The restaurant?” Bucky asked, blinking. “What– really?”

“Yes!” you nodded, wiping your tears away roughly. Bucky caught your hands, putting them down to your sides so he could wipe your tears away in a more gentle way with his thumbs.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said, looking appalled. “Do you know how many times you have ranted to me about the fact you hate restaurant proposals? You hate planning them, and you hate watching them. Why would I ever propose to you in a restaurant?”

“If it was you, then I would have changed my mind about it right away!” you argued with him, stubborn. “If it was you, you could’ve proposed to me with a candy ring, and I still would have said yes! We can elope– I don’t need a fancy wedding or anything. I just– just you. I just want you, Bucky.”

You watched as his eyes softened for you as he looked all over your features. You were certain that you looked like a mess right now, but you were finding it harder to believe that with the way he was looking at you right now. He looked as if you were the one that created the universe, and solved all his problems. There was nothing but admiration, love, joy. These were eyes that only you had the privilege to see. 

A smile came onto his face, one that you adored. A smile that you were going to be able to have for the rest of your life.

“Well, I’m your fiancé now, but you’ve already had me from the beginning, doll,” he said, “I’ve had this ring for over a year now, actually.”

“A year?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to ask,” he admitted, a bit sheepish. “And just… right now. It felt right.”

“Me working in the same room as you felt right?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at your blatant sarcasm. Except, he’s still smiling. He never gives you a real attitude. He wouldn’t dare. He loves you too much to ever do that.

“The fact that we’re both able to do our own thing in silence, but still be together felt right. We don’t need to speak. We don’t need to be touching. Don’t get me wrong, I love all those things, but… When I looked over at you just now— I felt at peace. Peace that I never thought I was ever allowed to have. So yes, it felt right.”

You’re about to cry again. You’re about to start fucking ugly sobbing in your boyfriend– your fiancé’s arms. You have a thousand things to say, but you know none of them will make sense right now. So, you bury your face in his chest and hug him tight, his arms coming to hold you even closer to him. 

“I love you,” you settled with, your voice breaking slightly.

“I love you, too,” he chuckled in response.

You listened to his chest rumble with laughter under your ear, felt his head rest against the side of yours. He led your bodies in a gentle sway, rocking the two of you back and forth. He took in a breath, releasing it slowly in a contented way. 

Your mind is racing still, and you ask one single question– just one to get his opinion. 

“Where should we get married?” you whispered to him. 

Bucky’s quiet for a few moments. A few moments too long. You pull back from him to look at his face, finding a smile on his lips, and a small sparkle in his eyes.

“I have some friends that want to meet you. Do you think you’re up to traveling to Wakanda?”

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy @star-yawnznn let me know if you would like to join my general bucky taglist for whenever i post a fic!

[lomlsatoru]

best friend!jinu remembers your coffee order by heart and knows your favourite snacks and foods. you claim he’s obsessed but he said its just because he’s a good friend.

best friend!jinu pokes fun at you and you poke fun at him. you tease and mock and its all lighthearted and fun. people say you’re flirting but you call them crazy.

best friend!jinu looks for you first when he enters the room — if you’re not already arriving with him. he scans everywhere top to bottom and can only calm down when he hears you greet him in that sweet voice of yours, “jiji!”

best friend!jinu is your unpaid, unofficial bodyguard. anywhere you go he’s two steps behind you. you know that audio, walk him like a dog sis, walk him like a dog. yeah, that’s you two.

best friend!jinu lets you pinch and shove him. it doesn’t hurt but having you hands on him makes his tummy all weird.

best friend!jinu doesn’t drink much if you’re at the party with him. he wants to make sure you’re okay, safe and comfortable.

best friend!jinu stares at you from across the room. he says he’s only keeping tabs, but when you glance and catch his eyes, he turns his head so fast you can almost hear it crack and his cheeks goes up in flames.

best friend!jinu doesn’t really know how to handle how touchy you are with him. your hand is on his bicep, back, shoulders and suddenly he can’t remember his own name.

best friend!jinu lets you become his forever passenger princess. his car is littered with your stuff, your scrunchies, lip balms, tissue packets, rings all in the crevices in his car.

best friend!jinu loves how much you depend on him. your bag? he’s holding it. your lip gloss? in his pocket. your card? he’s taking care of the bill.

best friend!jinu who stutters when you get too close. he doesn’t mind if you get in his personal space, if anything he prefers it. but the moment you smile at him, his brain short circuits.

best friend!jinu is a loser in a hot body and only you know that. you see that side of him more than anyone else — mostly because he only shows them to you.

best friend!jinu doesn’t really compliment you explicitly. mostly because he’s shy, scared that he’ll come off as creepy or someone with an ulterior motive. but you are truly breathtaking to him and he can’t think sometimes.

best friend!jinu acts like your boyfriend. he’s protective, cares too much about you, pays every time you guys go out but also doesn’t stop you when you want to spoil him.

best friend!jinu is easily spoiled by movie marathon, late night ice cream runs and pizza parties. he also likes feeling like to feel pampered but you can smile at him and that would be enough.

best friend!jinu gets nervous when people mistaken you as his girlfriend. he denies but always as the famous follow up question, why do you say that?

best friend!jinu doesn’t know when he started feeling weird around you. good weird. but he’s not surprised. you’re kind, sweet, caring and you like spending time with him. and! you smell nice, and you share food with him, and you play with his hair, and- (okay thats enough jinu!)

oh… best friend!jinu thinks he likes you more than a friend now.

reblog for a smooch 😘 check out my other works <3

[lucenra]

He Knew My Name

𝓟airing ↳ Abby X F!Reader

𝓘𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 .. you finally gain the courage to talk to the most known guy on campus.

𝓦arnings .. no warnings !

𝓐uthor's note .. this is a college au (he would def be a frat boy)

It was another day on campus, and for the first time ever, you were late.

The door creaked loudly as you slipped into the lecture hall — thirty-two minutes past the hour. A few heads turned, some with amusement, others with annoyance, but you didn’t really care. You scanned the room quickly and slid into the first empty seat you spotted, near the middle, hoping not to draw more attention than you already had.

You reached into your bag to grab your notebook and pen — and froze.

Of course. You’d left both in your dorm.

You let out a quiet sigh, already annoyed with yourself. Class was halfway over, and now you couldn’t even pretend to be productive. You glanced to your left, debating whether it was worth asking someone for help — and then your eyes landed on the person sitting next to you.

Abby.

Of course. Of all people.

He was one of the most recognizable faces on campus — always showing up in someone’s TikTok, always wearing that same silver chain, and always, always too pretty for his own good. People whispered about him like he wasn’t real. Girls giggled when he passed. Professors somehow always let him slide with late work. He had that calm, cocky energy, like he knew he didn’t have to try too hard.

And now, he was seated right next to you, calmly taking notes with perfect posture and a watch you were pretty sure cost more than your tuition deposit.

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. But not for long.

“Hey,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual.

He turned toward you, meeting your eyes, and up close, he was even more unreal. Sharp jawline, dark brown eyes, slightly messy pink hair, and an unreadable expression like he wasn’t used to being approached without a purpose.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” you asked.

Abby blinked once, then reached into his bag without saying a word. He pulled out a sleek black pen— probably some unnecessarily expensive kind, and handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours lightly. Just for a second.

“Thanks,” you muttered, suddenly very aware of the limited space between you.

“No problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, before turning back to his notes.

You grabbed a random flyer from your bag to write on, pretending not to be hyper-aware of the fact that Abby just lent you his pen.

You felt his eyes on you once or twice after that. Not in a weird way. Just… curious.

And somehow, even with no notebook, no pen of your own, and no idea what the professor was going on about, the rest of the class didn’t feel like such a disaster anymore.

♡

After class, you made your way to the library to meet up with your best friend, Zoey. You spotted her at a long table near the back, headphones on, completely locked into study mode.

You crept up behind her.

“Boo.”

She jumped and yanked off her headphones. “Oh my—! You scared me!” she laughed, turning to face you.

You dropped your bag onto the chair next to hers and sat down, grinning. “Okay. You will not believe who I just had an interaction with.”

Zoey’s eyes lit up instantly. “Who, who, who?? Tell me right now.”

“Abby. As in the Abby. Abbs.”

She practically squealed, loud enough that a few people looked over. You threw your hand up quickly.

“Shh! We’re in a library, girl,” you whispered with a smile.

Zoey clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. But ohmygosh, he’s so hot.”

You leaned in, voice low. “Right? And get this— I forgot all my stuff, and he gave me his pen. Like, actually handed it to me.”

Zoey gasped. “Wait, handed it to you with eye contact, or like… tossed it in your direction?”

“Eye contact,” you confirmed with a nod. “And his fingers brushed mine. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it honestly felt like a scene out of a movie.”

Zoey dropped her head against the back of her chair in mock shock. “You’re living my fantasy. I’ve never even been in the same row as him.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, trying to sound chill, “he definitely knows I exist now.”

Zoey leaned closer, her expression serious in that overly dramatic Zoey way. “So what’s the plan? Are you gonna say hi next time? Make small talk? Seduce him with your perfectly winged eyeliner?”

You laughed. “I mean, I want to… but what if he just thinks I’m another girl trying to get his attention? He probably deals with that every day.”

“Okay, first of all? You’re not just another girl. You’re you. And second, he gave you his pen. That’s, like, sacred college bonding.”

You smiled despite yourself.

Zoey suddenly perked up. “Okay, forget the pen. Forget the tension. I have even bigger news.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Bigger than Abby’s hand brushing mine?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “Beach. Party. Tonight.”

You blinked. “What beach?”

“Haeundae Beach,” she said like it was common knowledge. “Apparently someone on the swim team’s cousin is throwing it. Bonfire, drinks, music — the whole scene.”

You gave her a skeptical look. “You know I don’t do sand like that.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “You’ll survive. And it’s not just any party, everyone is going. Even Mira and Rumi said yes.”

You laughed. “Okay, but are we talking chill bonfire vibes or full blackout-regrets-in-the-morning energy?”

“Both,” she grinned. “But like, aesthetic regrets. Trust me. We’re going. I already picked your outfit.”

You groaned but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you love it.”

♡

The sun had just started to set when you and Zoey arrived at the beach. The sky was streaked with warm shades of orange and pink, and the breeze off the ocean felt cool against your skin. Somewhere in the distance, music thumped, heavy bass mixing with waves crashing against the shore.

Groups of people were already gathered around the fire. Some were dancing barefoot in the sand, others were lounging on blankets with drinks in hand. Someone had strung fairy lights between two wooden poles, casting a soft golden glow over everything.

“This is actually kind of… nice,” you admitted, pulling the sleeves of your oversized tee down past your hands.

“Told you,” Zoey said proudly. “Vibes? Immaculate.”

You were about to agree when your gaze shifted across the crowd… and your heart dropped into your stomach.

There, leaning casually against a log by the fire, red cup in hand — was Abby.

Same smirk. Same chain. Same energy like he didn’t have to try to be the center of attention — he just was.

Zoey followed your gaze and gasped. “No. Freaking. Way.”

“Did you know he was going to be here?” you whispered, eyes still locked on him.

“No! I swear! But… okay, maybe this really is fate.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “Don’t start.”

She grinned, nudging your side. “Start what? I’m just saying… the beach is magical. He’s here. You look hot. And maybe… tonight’s not about borrowed pens anymore.”

You glanced back at Abby — and this time, he looked up.

Right at you.

And smiled.

[hearts4mica]

Hi can you pls make a part 3 of the perfect pretty girl? I really like your stuff!

Stupid with Love

Yan Batfam x Popular (Teruhashi) Reader!

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

Batfam finds out about Saiki.

———————————————————————————

———————————————————————————

After a failed attempt on declaring your love to Saiki you ressigned yourself and just decided to sleep the whole afternoon. Afterall you didn’t want to hangout with your siblings on Valentine’s day.

———————————————————————————

7:00pm

The door creaks open and a small shadow from the hall slowly walks into your room.

Damian emerges from the shadows only being seen through your small night light.

Damian was not stupid.

He was Robin, the bloodson of Batman and a detective. Of course he knew you lied.

As much as he wanted to believe you his dearest older sister he had to know every detail about your personal life. It’s not weird if your safety is in danger!

Okay. ‘Throw away’. So he should check your trash.

On top of your trashcan there sat. A small heartshaped pink letter. ‘To Saiki 💙’. Who the hell is Saiki?

———————————————————————————

7:15 pm

Batcave. Minutes before patrol

Damian storms to the batcave where everyone is getting ready. “We have a problem!”

“(Name) was going to confess today to a guy whose name is Saiki! SAIKI!” Damian hands your letter to Bruce and everyone squeezes arround him to read the letter.

To Saiki 💙

That was more than enough to get the whole batfam in chaos.

Bruce was the first to speak. “Babs we need all the information on this so called ‘Saiki’ immediately.” His voice low but demanding. “On it Bats”

“Change of plans tonight. Dick and Tim you’ll go to his house and look for blackmail.”

“Hey why can’t i go?!” Damian whined. “I’m the one who found the card! Why would you trust Drake above me!”

“Damian you’re impulsive. You’re not going and neither is Jason, and it’s final.”

———————————————————————————

Damian’s POV

8:30pm

‘I can’t trust Grayson nor Drake. To not mess things up. I’ll go there myself and look around and have a word with this ‘Saiki guy’.

———————————————————————————

Saiki’s POV

Back to 7:15 pm

This is exactly why i avoided (Name). I now only not just have her stalking me, but now i have all of this city’s vigilantes stalking me around.

I’ll just have to pretend to be asleep. What an annoyance.

———————————————————————————

The next day you woke up to Jason opening your window.

“Jason leave me alonnee it’s too early.!”

“So Saiki huh?”

WHAT?

After quickly getting out of bed and checking your trashcan you were not met with the letter you wrote to Saiki

“Goodluck downstairs”

Damian must have came here last night. That little brat! Always ruining everything.

“Jay. Saiki and i- we are just friends okay?! Just- don’t try to find things between us because there is nothing! And there will be nothing ever!” Did i really just say that? “Please just don’t hurt him. He matters to me.”

“Fine. But if he hurts you-“ “Which he won’t because we’re friends!” “I’ll murder him on cold blood myself.”

———————————————————————————

“He can try.”

———————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you for readiiiiingg!!! Now that i’m oficially on summer vacation i’ll try to post more fics so my request box is opeeennn!!

Masterlist

[sunsetmade]

can you write about how Rafe and the reader always call each other pet names (like baby and sweetheart) ans they aren’t dating but they don’t realize they do this until someone like sarah calls them out. thank ya!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!!

Goodnight, Baby

Rafe Cameron x Shy! Reader

Rafe Cameron had a way of saying things that made her heart trip over itself.

Not in the loud, sweeping, rom-com kind of way—though, admittedly, when he leaned in a little too close or let his voice drop into that gravelly rasp, it sometimes felt like the air thinned and the world tipped slightly on its axis. But mostly, it was subtler than that. More internal. The kind of flutter that tugged at her ribs and burned behind her cheeks. The kind that made her fingers nervously twist the hem of her sweater as she avoided his gaze, knowing full well the teasing smirk he’d be wearing.

And he knew. God, he definitely knew what he was doing.

“Hey, baby,” Rafe said, his voice casual, almost careless, as he opened the front door of Tannyhill and stepped aside to let her in.

Her stomach flipped. That word—baby—spilled from his mouth like it belonged to her. Like it wasn’t dangerous at all. Like it wasn’t laced with weight and meaning and a thousand unsaid things. He said it like they weren’t just best friends. Like it wasn’t reckless for her to let her heart leap every time.

She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she slipped past him into the house. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and she swore she felt him lean just slightly into the contact before the door clicked shut behind them.

“Hi,” she said gently, her voice small but sweet, eyes trained on the floor tiles as her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Rafe grinned. One of those lazy, cocky grins that always meant trouble for her composure. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world to stand there and watch her unravel.

He loved this part—the soft blush creeping across her cheeks, the way she got all quiet and bashful when he so much as looked at her too long. She didn’t even realize it, but she was the only person who ever brought out something warm in him. Something patient. Something kind.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he followed her into the hallway, his steps unhurried behind hers.

She nodded quickly, too quickly, still not meeting his gaze. “Mhm. I came a little early, sorry.”

He stepped closer—slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing and how it would make her freeze in place.

“ ‘S okay,” Rafe murmured, voice low and rough. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

Her breath hitched before she could stop it. Her first instinct was to look away, hide from his icy blue eyes like she always did when he got too close, too gentle. But he wasn’t having it. He reached out, calloused fingers brushing lightly beneath her chin, coaxing her face back up to his.

His thumb traced the soft line of her jaw. Warm. Careful.

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart.

The second nickname—the one that felt more tender, more dangerous than baby, and that was saying something. That word always hit her like a soft punch to the stomach. She didn’t know which one made her melt more—or ache more.

“Rafe…” she breathed out, a little whine escaping before she could stop it, her eyebrows furrowed teasingly.

He gave her that look—that cocky, slow-burning smile that was all teeth and playful arrogance, but somehow softened at the edges by something warmer. Something real.

“What?” he said, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to her.

“You always say stuff like that…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s true,” he said easily, shrugging like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just turned her insides into syrup.

She didn’t respond—she couldn’t. Her brain was too busy trying to reboot.

Eventually, like always, they ended up in his room.

It was their place. The unspoken routine. The space where things slowed down, where it didn’t matter that the rest of the house belonged to the Camerons and the world outside didn’t know what to make of them. Up here, it was quiet. Safe.

She sat on his bed the same way she always did, legs folded underneath her. Rafe collapsed beside her with a sigh, limbs sprawling across the mattress like he owned every inch of the space—which, to be fair, he did.

Sometimes he scrolled through his phone or channel surfed without really watching, while she read or softly told him about her day. They never really planned it, but somehow hours passed like that—comfortable, warm silence that buzzed with something unspoken just under the surface.

Today, she’d brought snacks in a little lunch box she use to use, pretzels and candy she knew he liked. She placed them between them, and when he saw them, his eyes lit up in that quiet, boyish way that made her chest squeeze.

“You know you don’t have to bring stuff,” he murmured, popping a pretzel into his mouth and leaning back against the wall. His voice was soft now—lower, like they were the only two people on Earth.

“I like to,” she said gently, her tone almost bashful.

He turned his head just slightly to look at her, eyes settling on her face like he was memorizing it. “Baby,” he said, almost like a sigh. “You’re too good to me.”

There it was again—baby. And the way he said it, all low and familiar, like it wasn’t driving her absolutely crazy inside. Like it wasn’t unraveling her thread by thread.

It sounded like it belonged coming from him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Every time he said it, her stomach tightened, and that ache behind her ribs grew heavier—like the truth was sitting there, pressing against her chest, reminding her that she wanted something she couldn’t ask for. Because they weren’t dating. He wasn’t hers. He was just her best friend.

Her handsome, infuriating, impossibly charming best friend who treated her like she meant the world, who called her baby like it was second nature.

She didn’t want to risk losing him. Didn’t want to ruin the soft, slow thing they had by wanting too much.

So she smiled, small but genuine, and looked away.

“Thanks,” she said softly, staring down at the snacks like they might give her an answer. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He chuckled, a low hum in his throat, and nudged her foot gently with his. “Yeah, yeah. I owe you.”

But he was still watching her. She could feel it. That stare of his—sharp and quiet and warm all at once. Like he saw everything she didn’t say.

And all she could do was hope he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was thudding—or see the way her fingers were curled into the blanket just to keep them from reaching for him.

They were halfway through some dumb, half-watched movie when the door creaked open.

“Rafe, Rose wants to—” Wheezie’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh.”

Wheezie stood frozen in the doorway, blinking like she’d just walked into the middle of something she wasn’t supposed to see. Her eyes flicked from Rafe to his bestfriend tucked into his side, taking in the soft lighting of the bedroom, the quiet buzz of the TV in the background, the way his arm was lazily draped over her shoulders—fingers drawing slow, absentminded circles on the fabric of her sleeve. Their legs were touching. And how she was leaning into him like she didn’t even realize.

Wheezie tilted her head, curiosity already taking root. “Why do you call her baby?” She asked deciding to get the burning question she’s been dying to know off of her mind.

The question landed like a pin dropped into still water—barely a sound, but it rippled.

She froze, her pulse skipping like her body hadn’t caught up to her mind. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught. She could feel Rafe’s fingers still on her arm, but he didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

Instead, a small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied smoothly, glancing at his sister like she was the one being weird.

Wheezie squinted at the two of them. “Because you’re not dating… right?”

Her entire face flushed. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, crawling down her neck, making her wish she could shrink into the mattress and disappear. Rafe, on the other hand, chuckled under his breath. That low, familiar sound that meant he was enjoying this far too much.

But then his eyes slid sideways—to her. Not just glanced. Looked. Really looked, like she was the only person in the room that mattered.

He didn’t answer.

“Rafe,” Wheezie pressed, now crossing her arms with all the boldness of a little sister who smelled something suspicious. “That’s not an answer.”

He grinned wider, that easy, arrogant grin that always made her nervous. “Go tell Rose I’ll be down in five.”

“That’s still not an answer!”

“Wheezie,” he warned, the playful edge in his voice soft but final.

She groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she turned to leave. “Whatever. You’re so weird,” she muttered under her breath before disappearing and pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence lingered.

She slowly shifted, pulling away just enough to feel the cool air hit the space where his body had been warming hers. She stared at the blanket pooled in her lap, carefully not looking at him to get her cheeks to cool down.

Rafe shifted beside her. “You okay?”

She nodded, but it was too fast. Too practiced. “Yeah.”

“You’re blushing,” he said softly, tilting his head toward her like he already knew the answer.

“Rafe…” she said his name with a quiet warning, already flustered, already spiraling.

He leaned in just a little, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His voice dropped, teasing. “Did that make you nervous?”

The smirk on his face said he knew exactly what he was doing. He always did.

She swallowed. “You didn’t answer her.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “I didn’t.”

Her throat tightened. “Why not?”

There was a pause, stretched thin and quiet.

Then his hand brushed against hers on the bed, fingers grazing hers once—twice—before gently slipping between them, like he’d been waiting for permission that never came but hoped for anyway.

“I like how it sounds,” he said quietly. “Calling you baby.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened just slightly around his.

“I like the way you look at me when I say it,” he continued, voice hushed, almost hesitant. “Like you’re about to melt, but you’re too sweet to tell me to shut up.”

“I’m not too sweet,” she whispered, barely audible, eyes locked on their intertwined hands.

He turned his head slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before finding her eyes again. “Nah,” he murmured, “you are.”

She exhaled shakily, pulse fluttering. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, the words catching in her throat. She didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound like a confession.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Because it makes you feel something?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But the look on her face said everything.

He pulled back just a little, giving her space, but his hand stayed laced with hers, warm and steady.

“I’m not trying to mess with you,” he said after a long beat, the teasing gone from his voice. “I just… I don’t know. You’re the only person I feel good around. Like, really good. Like I can breathe.”

She blinked, slowly turning to look at him. His voice had softened in a way she rarely heard, and something in her chest tugged hard.

“And calling you baby?” He gave a faint smile, a small shrug. “It’s not just a nickname. It’s the only way I know how to show it sometimes. That you’re… different.”

The room felt heavy. Charged. Thick with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

She didn’t say anything right away—just let herself lean in again, gently resting her head against his shoulder like it was instinct, like it was home.

“You’re different for me too,” she whispered into the fabric of his shirt.

He stilled, then exhaled slowly. His breath was shaky this time.

Neither of them moved. The movie flickered on the screen, long forgotten. Outside, the house made its usual quiet creaks, but in here, it was just them.

Eventually, Rafe shifted, sliding his arm around her and tugging her closer until she was tucked beneath his chin, legs draped over his lap, her cheek resting against his chest. His fingers started moving again—soft, slow patterns against her back.

“Still blushing?” he asked, voice barely above a murmur, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

He chuckled. “Good.”

She groaned. “Rafe…”

“Hmm?”

She turned her face up just enough to peek at him, eyes narrowed. “You like making me blush.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks burning brighter, but her smile gave her away. “You’re impossible.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, unhurried. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Her heart stuttered—once, then again—and this time, she didn’t look away. Didn’t hide it.

She just let it happen. Let him hold her. Let herself fall a little more.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel reckless.

It just felt right.

⸻

Later that night, when the sky had melted into dark navy sprinkled with stars, and the last light of day clung to the tops of the trees, Rafe walked her out to her car. The breeze was warm and slow, carrying the quiet hum of cicadas and the scent of summer grass. The whole world felt still—like it was holding its breath for them.

She glanced sideways at him as they reached her car, keys dangling loosely in her hand, heart fluttering like it always did around him. Rafe moved ahead and opened the car door for her without a word, leaning lazily against it with one arm braced above her, the other casually resting in his pocket. He was close. Always close.

She turned to face him, eyes soft. “Wheezie’s gonna ask again.”

His mouth tugged into a lopsided smirk. “Yeah. Probably tomorrow.”

“What are you gonna say next time?”

Rafe didn’t move for a second. Just looked at her with that unreadable glint in his eye, like he was weighing something. Then, with quiet confidence, he leaned in—crowding her gently between the open car door and the warmth of his body.

“That it’s none of her business,” he said, voice low and teasing.

She giggled, eyes dropping shyly to the space between them before flicking back up to his. Her cheeks were already warm.

Rafe’s hand slid up to her waist, squeezing lightly, grounding her. His other hand reached up, slow and deliberate, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. But his fingers didn’t leave right away—they lingered, brushing lightly against her jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek like he couldn’t help it.

“Or,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers, “maybe I’ll just tell her the truth.”

Her breath caught. “What’s the truth?”

He looked at her like she was something fragile and brilliant all at once—like she was a secret he’d been dying to say out loud.

“That I’m working up the nerve to ask you to be mine.”

The air stilled. Her chest rose sharply with the breath she forgot to take, her eyes wide, heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Her fingers curled slightly into the hem of her shirt as she stared at him, face tingling with heat.

“Yours?” she asked softly, voice barely there.

Rafe nodded once, gaze never wavering. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

She looked up at him and something in her face softened.

“I like that,” she said quietly, her lips lifting into a bashful smile.

His brow raised slightly. “Yeah?”

She nodded, cheeks glowing, and before she could overthink it, he wrapped both arms around her waist and tugged her flush against his chest.

“So you like me, baby?” he teased, his voice low and rough, his breath brushing against her ear.

She let out a nervous laugh, face burning as she buried it against his chest, hiding from the intensity of it all.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “Say it, baby girl.”

She hesitated, her voice muffled against him. “I like you, Rafe.”

He smiled—she felt it more than saw it, the way his body relaxed, the way his arms tightened just a little around her.

“I like you too,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head. She stayed tucked into him, neither of them in a rush to pull away.

For a few long moments, everything felt still again. Easy. Like this was always where they were meant to end up.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look down at her, his hand brushing her cheek one last time.

“Goodnight, baby.”

She gave him a look—sweet and shy and impossibly full—and stepped into her car, her fingers trembling slightly on the door handle as she shut it.

As she drove off, windows down and wind in her hair, her heart was floating somewhere above the clouds.

She didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

[chaes-tea]

── // feeling the dream .

// kpop demon hunters fic. // jinu x reader. // a/n: hi! i hadn't planned on expanding living the nightmare, but here you go! his pov: living the nightmare ⚠️!! WARNING: kpop demon hunters spoilers !!

Your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred by tears. Blinking them away, you grab your phone from your nightstand.

3:48 am.

You had that dream again. Well, not exactly again, but this is the only one that's recurring. These dreams specifically always seem to take place in the same time period, with the same people. A mother, a little girl, a young man, and... you? At least, that's the perspective these dreams always put you in.

Dressed in rags, surrounded by a variety of medicinal plants, you figured that 'you' were a low class physician. Glimpses of the noble class attire in other dreams suggested that all of these dreams take place in Joseon, Korea. Though no two dreams were ever the same, they always involved the same mother, little girl, and young man. Despite the muffled voices and the blurred faces, you couldn't help but feel that they were related to 'you'. The terms 'in-laws' and 'lover' comes to mind. Were they family? Were they 'your' family?

It's strange, you think. These dreams are starting to feel more and more familiar to you. Nostalgic, like you've experienced them before. A cold winter night, a scorching hot summer, a warm embrace, a kiss under the starry sky– all with that man.

You decided to tell Rumi about it the next night.

"I've had them for a while now," you said. "I don't really know how to explain it. It's almost like... they're my own memories? But not really. It feels like I'm living someone else's life."

"Have you talked to Celine about this?" You shake your head.

"No, though that probably isn't a bad idea."

"It wouldn't hurt to try, she might know a thing or two." She says. "So, you've had these dreams for how long and never told me?"

"Rumi, please-"

"Just kidding~"

You and Rumi have been friends since childhood, way before the formation of Huntr/x. With both of your mothers being a part of the Sunlight Sisters, it was inevitable that you two would stay friends.

The two of you chat about anything and everything else, until a wave of tiredness hits you.

"Okay, Roomba, I'm getting tired," you say, holding back a yawn, "I'm gonna head out now. Good night."

"Hehe, goodnight, [Name]."

You didn't end up telling her about your latest dream, though, which woke you up in tears. In the dream, 'you' reached a hand out to a person's back, large wooden palace doors closing behind them. The distress, the sadness, the pain, you felt it all. But this time, you got a name.

You drift off to sleep, thinking of the name from the dream.

"Jinu!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Is this place even credible, Zoey?" You ask, staring at the entrance suspiciously.

"Don't you ever listen to Bobby, [Name]? The internet. Never. Lies!"

It was the day after Rumi lost her voice. Zoey suggested to get tonics from a shady looking alleyway doctor.

"There's no way he's legit, Zoey." Mira replies.

"The reviews were so good though!"

Needless to say that that whole ordeal was an experience to be remembered. After losing the staring contest with Mira, the doctor gave Rumi a box of the tonics– or, as Mira calls it, 'voice juice'– and the four of you went off on your merry way.

"We got the tonics! Yay!" Zoey exclaims. "Once your voice is fixed, we can get back to the important stuff, like the fans!"

"What exactly is in this 'voice juice' anyways?" You ask, taking a peek into the box.

Before you could take a better look at the tonics, the four of you see shadows in front of you. Five young men turn the corner. Tall, photogenic, straight off the cover of a magazine. A few of them talked amongst themselves, some listening into the conversations. One of them, a man with black hair, trails behind them, lost in his own thoughts, until he directs his gaze forward, past the men in front of him, and he looks at you.

The moment he sees you, it's like something in his expression changes. Not visually, but the way he looks at you with his chocolate colored eyes feels like he knows you. Not in the way that a fan recognizes their favorite artist, but like he knows knows you. And you don't know why, but you also feel like you know him.

He looks away and gently pulls the cyan haired man closer to him, making space for your group to pass.

"Excuse us."

You can't say for sure, but you feel like you've heard that voice before.

Later that night, you have another dream about 'you' again. This time, it's dark, 'your' eyelids are heavy, about to fall asleep. The sound of crickets fill the night, and there's a gentle breeze in the air. A comforting touch tucks a strand of hair away. Your conscious knows it's the young man again. He presses a kiss to 'your' forehead before whispering.

"Good night."

[encherries]

MAKE ME YOURS ​─ P. SH 1.0k SMUT (MDNI)

sunghoon x inexperienced fem!reader, implied first time, fingering, protected sex (why is this a first for me), lots of dirty talk, praise, corruption kink

this was requested and tbh it took me longer than it should have but it’s here !! written and edited by me so i apologize for any mistakes. comments and reblogs are appreciated ><

your boyfriend sunghoon is the sweetest and most caring person alive, and in most aspects that’s not something you’d complain about. you just wish he wouldn’t treat you like you’re actually made of glass when it comes to being intimate. you’d told him early on that you weren’t very experienced and it’s something he’s always been respectful about, always reassuring that he’d be willing to wait until you were ready. 

the thing is, you just don’t really know how to bring it up. you may be inexperienced, but you’re not oblivious. you’ve been around on the internet long enough to know exactly where to find the stuff you’re into, the problem is you truly don’t know how to ask sunghoon about it. every time you try to advance further, he pulls away with some comment about how he doesn’t wanna pressure you, and then goes back to simply cuddling or kissing you. 

you’re starting to feel a little bit desperate so you come up with an idea. he’s still in the bathroom, the shower still running so you have the perfect opportunity to put your plan into action. 

you get comfortable on the bed first, strategically positioning yourself on the sheets. your thoughts naturally drift to sunghoon as you trail your fingers down, pulling your panties to the side and sliding one finger inside your cunt. 

sunghoon is gonna lose his fucking mind. there you are, his angelic and innocent girlfriend moaning out his name as you pleasure yourself, your eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavy.

“oh angel,” he coos. “do you need some help with that?” 

your eyes fly open, and fuck you look so desperate as you make eye contact. “hoonie please, need you…” 

he makes his way over to the bed, planting one knee down on the mattress and hovering over you. “don’t worry doll, hoonie’s gonna make you feel so good.” he lets his hand rest on your thigh, slowly inching up higher and you instinctively pull away your own hand, giving him a full view of your dripping pussy.

“what do you want me to do angel? use your words for me.” he half expects you to hide your face in embarrassment, but you’re already so far gone that your response is immediate. “please hoonie, need— need your fingers inside.” you spread your legs further as you grab his wrist, guiding his hand to where you need him. 

your gasp when he finally pushes two fingers in halfway is downright sinful and sunghoon has to bite back a growl. he’s going to make you his. "clenching my fingers so tight angel. gonna have to stretch you out a little before you can fit my cock."

your face twists in discomfort as he adds a third finger and he attaches his lips to your neck, sucking on your sensitive spots to distract from the pain. in a twisted way it makes him feel satisfied knowing he'll be the first to fuck you, that he'll be the first to mould your insides to fit his cock. soon you're letting out pretty moans again and he presses his palm against your clit, stimulating it to make you come. the broken whine of his name when you reach your orgasm is something that will stay in his mind forever, your eyes squeezed shut, mouth drawn open in a perfect o. 

god. if he doesn't fuck you soon he's gonna explode.

sunghoon prides himself on still having the presence of mind to open the bedside table drawer and reach for a condom, before pushing his underwear down. 

"ready, doll?"

"yes, yes 'm ready sunghoon, wanted this for so long." your voice still sounds so desperate despite the fact that you came once already and he can only give you what you want. he pushes his cock in slowly, checking on you for any discomforts, but you're only staring at where he's entering you, eyes wide and so full of lust that he continues bottoming out. 

"fuck. you're still so fucking tight angel." he has to take a few deep breaths to avoid coming embarrassingly quickly himself. 

"please move, i can take it, promise." you're looking up at him now, hands clenching around the bedsheets, your hair all messy, so ruined for him already and he hasn't even fucked you properly yet. his first few thrusts are slow and careful, feeling your walls grip him tightly and he wishes he wasn't wearing a condom so he could feel everything. next time. 

"look at you," he groans. "taking me so well, fuck. like you were made for me."

you mewl in response, arching your back off the bed and clenching impossibly tighter around his cock. you reach up with your right hand, wrapping it around his wrist and he understands what you’re trying to do as he shifts his weight before interlocking his hand with yours. 

“sunghoon, please.” you sound so pretty begging, and he’ll have to do something about that later too, make you beg for him some more. for now though, he needs you to come on his cock.

“sunghoonie,” you whine again. 

“doing so good for me doll. fucked you so dumb already the only thing you can remember is my name, huh?” he leans down to capture your lips in a filthy and sloppy kiss, before pulling away and softly biting your lip.

“‘m gonna– sunghoonie, i’m gonna come,” you cry out.

he speeds up his thrusts, not far away from orgasming himself.

“go ahead angel, just let go for me. so perfect, and all mine.” 

your eyes roll back as you reach your second high, your hand tight in his, and god he’s really gonna have to fuck you raw next time because you’re squeezing him so well, and he can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he could feel the drag of his cock against your walls. you moan out his name loudly and it’s enough to send him over the edge too, filling up the condom with his own come as he gives a few more sloppy thrusts. 

once you’re all cleaned up he hugs you close in bed, ready to fall asleep, but your sweet voice cuts through his haze as you ask cheekily “will you teach me how to suck you off next time?”

[lovetrouble123]

What Is Taking Over Me? Jealousy.

Synopsis: In which Dick is jealous that his girlfriend is in love with Nightwing

TW: y/n has an unhealthy obsession with Nightwing

A/N: guys i promise pt2 of Kindergarten Crush is coming but I have no idea how to do the imbedded link thing😭 can yall tell i never use tumblr despite having my acc for almost 10(?) years🫡

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A whole two years and Dick Grayson still hadn’t told his girlfriend, Y/N, about his night time routine. One year of them sharing an apartment in Blüdhaven, and he still kept his mouth shut. Of course, ever since he rented the apartment across the hall under a different name, it’s begun to be easier separating his vigilante life with his personal life.

But just because all his things were stored in the apartment across from him, it didn’t mean he hadn’t left small clues around. One night he had left his domino mask lying around, and another night he left his gloves, and soon after one of his escrima sticks.

And while most people would grow suspicious about random objects appearing and disappearing out of thin air, it only made Y/N happy. You see, Y/N was fascinated and deeply in love with the masked vigilante in Blüdhaven, Nightwing. She had no clue her boyfriend was Nightwing, but that didn’t stop her from having a shrine dedicated to him on her side of the bedroom—from posters, to figurines…she had it all.

The first time Dick found out that she was in love with his vigilante persona, he immediately felt an ego boost. But now, hearing Y/N talk on and on about how much she loved Nightwing, how hot he was…it was all growing annoying.

He felt stupid, being jealous of himself.

Dick sat on the couch, Hayley curled up beside him asleep. He was looking through some files that Oracle had sent him, and since he was home alone, he didn’t see the reason to leave and go to the room across the hall.

But then the front door busted open with Y/N, wearing a large and excited smile. Hayley woke up, started barking and jumped down before hobbling her way to the front door to greet her second owner. Meanwhile, Dick fumbled with the case file in his hand and quickly shut it and looked over at Y/N.

“B-Babe, you’re home early.”

“Dick, you won’t ever guess what I found for my collection!” Y/N exclaimed as she reached into her bag and pulled out box labeled ‘Nightwing Figurine,’ with a picture of the figure on the front. “I found it at the store, isn’t it cute?!”

“Don’t you think you have too many?” Dick asked, straightening up on the couch some as Hayley circled Y/N who was currently taking her shoes off.

Dick was annoyed, angry…he was Nightwing! He should be the one making them happy, not some plastic figurine!

“Ever heard of impulse buy?” Y/N sassed, petting Hayley on the head as she made her way toward their shared bedroom.

“It seems like that’s the only thing you’ve been doing,” Dick said with a sigh as he stood up and followed behind Y/N and Hayley. Y/N had abandoned her bag on the bed, and had already begun to open up the figurine box. She discarded the box, and gently took out the figure and set it on the shelf that held her Nightwing collection.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. But last I checked, I’m the one making any real money for us,” Y/N sassed as she took a step back, her hands on her hips as she admired her vast collection.

“Sure, but that doesn’t give you the right to spend your whole paycheck on Nightwing stuff,” Dick huffed in annoyance.

Y/N glanced back at Dick with a raised brow, “why’re you so against Nightwing?”

“I don’t have anything against him. I just think it’s stupid that 90% of the time you’re giving your attention to him, and the other 10% is me,” Dick explains.

“Oh please,” Y/N turned her whole body to face her boyfriend. “He doesn’t even know I exist. My obsession is justifiable.”

“I don’t really understand your obsession toward him,” Dick retorted, his eyes glancing away from Y/N and over to her Nightwing collection. “He’s just some guy…and it’s a little creepy.”

Maybe Dick was past the stage of ‘oh wow, my girlfriend has a crush on my vigilante persona,’ and now he was on the ‘oh wow, my girlfriend is obsessed with my vigilante persona, and if I see one more piece of Nightwing merch, I’m going to end it all.’

“What’s there not to like?!” Y/N exclaimed, “he’s pretty, and he has a good personality,” she listed. “He looks really good in that suit…honestly, I could go on for days.”

“Keep it up and you’re sleeping on the couch,” Dick threatens.

“Again, for someone who claims that they don’t have an issue with Nightwing…you sure do act like you do,” Y/N said.

“Fine. You know why I have an issue with him?” Dick finally snaps, “it’s because he’s all you ever talk about! I’m your boyfriend, and yet you act like you’d rather date some masked vigilante than me! He’s not even that special!”

Y/N stared at Dick in silence, taking in his words. But now that he had started, it seemed like he couldn’t stop.

“All you do is talk about him, day in and day out. I know everyone has their own obsessions, but Y/N, sometimes you don’t have to buy Nightwing merch! You have too much, and it’s starting to get creepy. Don’t even get me started on how annoying it is too.”

“It just,” he trailed off, running his fingers through his hair. “It just feels like I’m competing for your attention. I can’t compete with a hero, and I’m sick and tired of constantly being reminded that I’m not Nightwing…I’m just…Richard Grayson.”

Dick knew it was stupid. His ranting that was. He was seriously standing here and complaining that he was constantly being measured up to Nightwing, being measured up to himself. But what would Y/N do if she knew the truth? If she knew he was both Nightwing and Dick Grayson? Two sides of the same coin.

Dick held his personal life dear and close to his heart, and it’s the reason why he had a separate place to keep all his vigilante things. When he was in the privacy of their apartment, he could drop the vigilante persona and just be Dick Grayson. But now, it was like he couldn’t separate the two…all because Y/N wouldn’t allow him too (even if she wasn’t really aware).

“Dick, I didn’t—,” Y/N trailed off. “—I didn’t know that you felt that way.

“Forget I said anything,” Dick said as he turned on his heel. “I’ve gotta meet up with someone from work.” Dick walked out of the bedroom and back into the living room. He grabbed the folder from off the couch, and disappeared into the apartment across the hall.

•••

Dick returned the following morning at around 2am. Patrol had been slow in Blüdhaven, and the case he and Barbara had been following had concluded.

Dick slipped through the window, his boots silently landing on the wooden floor of his spare apartment. The first thing he did was pull his mask off and set it aside on his messy computer table where there was a singular laptop that hooked up to Oracles computer, as well as files, pens, papers…and a framed picture of Y/N.

He knew it was dangerous to keep a picture of her at the spare apartment. What if a villain found out this was his base of operations and kidnapped Y/N? He had debated with getting rid of the picture, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

The picture was a few months old, and one of his favorites. It was a simple picture of her holding Hayley…her first time holding her. The two had just adopted her and brought her home when it was taken, and Y/N looked so incredibly happy.

Dick sighed and pressed the comm in his ear, “Babs, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Let me guess, Y/N again?”

“Y-Yeah,” Dick hesitated. “We got into a fight before patrol, and I’m just…should I tell her that I’m Nightwing?”

“You know that I’m gonna say yes.” Barbara stated, “Bruce might not like it, but she’s gonna find out eventually. Plus, keeping it from her seems a bit unfair.”

“Unfair?” Dick repeated.

“I know how much it bothers you that she’s…strangely obsessed with Nightwing. And I wouldn’t doubt that that was what your fight was about…again.”

“This time I let her have it though.” Dick admitted, finally settling down in the office chair that sat at his desk.

“And you said what to her?”

“That I was tired of being compared to Nightwing, which is, ya know, ironic.” Dick sighed out, running a gloved hand through his hair.

“And you know that when she finds out, she’ll be more obsessed, right?” Barbara slowly asks. “I know you can handle yourself, but do you think she’ll completely lose her mind? Like put you in danger?”

“I don’t think she would. I think she’d just be highly pissed at me, and awkward.” Dick says, “pissed because I kept this secret from her for so long, and awkward because she’s practically talking about me when she praises Nightwing.”

“Let me ask you this, does she ever wonder where you go at night?”

“She’s always asleep by the time I leave. I don’t even think she even knows I leave,” Dick admits.

“Dick, she can’t be that oblivious.” Barbara laughs, “the girl has a whole shrine dedicated to you, at least from what you’ve told me.”

“But she never acts like she knows, never even questions me.”

“Yeah, I’m going to choose to believe that she knows that you leave in the middle of the night.” Barbara states, “but since you’re choosing to take the stupid route instead of telling her who you are up front, I’ve got some suggestions.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you could always talk about yourself in the third person.” Barbara suggests, “next time she goes on about Nightwing, you could always act as if you know him personally or something.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then leave some of your equipment over there—.”

“—Already did that a few times. She just got excited and thought that I bought replicas for her collection,” Dick said as he shook his head.

“Dick,” Barbara firmly called. “Do you plan on staying with her your whole life?”

“What?”

“If you don’t tell her now, you’re going to be living a lie for the rest of your life.” Barbara states, “you have to tell her if you plan on staying with her.”

Dick knew Barbara was right. He knew that he had to tell her the truth. But there was a fear in telling Y/N everything, a fear that Bruce undoubtedly instilled in Dick since his Robin days.

“What if she leaves me?” Dick quietly asked.

“If she leaves you for telling the truth, is she even the one to begin with?”

•••

Dick opened the door to the bedroom to find Hayley and Y/N curled up beside each other on the bed. The left side of the bed was noticeably empty, the spot where Dick slept (whenever he actually was able to sleep).

Hayley raised her head and began to bark at Dick’s presence. He put a finger over his mouth, trying to indicate to Hayley to be quiet so that Y/N wouldn’t wake up. But it was no use because Y/N let out a soft groan and sat up rubbing her eyes, “Hayley…what are you barking at?”

The moonlight that came in through the half pulled curtains illuminated the bedroom, casting everything in a soft white hue. And for Y/N, it only made her all the more beautiful, especially with her tired and half asleep state.

“Babe, can we talk?” Dick softly asked as he walked toward the bed.

“Huh?” Y/N hummed, “Dick, why are you still up?”

Dick shuffled over to the bed, taking a seat on his side of the bed as Hayley pressed her head against his arm, desperate for his attention. “I couldn’t, uh, sleep. Can we talk?”

Y/N hummed out an ‘mhm’ before shifting to face her boyfriend, “what’s up?”

Dick began to pet Hayley’s head in an attempt to calm his nerves about telling Y/N the truth—that he was Nightwing. How would she react? How would she take the information? Would she think he was joking? Would she—god forbid—leave him?

“I need to tell you something important, and I need you to promise that you won’t freak out on me,” Dick slowly said.

“Alright, I promise,” Y/N yawned.

“I love you, Y/N…and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Dick calmly said. “But for that to happen, I need to tell you something…and you can be mad at me, but I need to tell you this.” He took a deep breath, “I’m Nightwing.”

Y/N only stared at Dick before sleepily smiling, “yeah, okay. And I’m Batman.” She yawned again, “you’re so sleepy Dick…you’re beginning to be delusional.”

“Y/N, I’m being serious.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re Nightwing,” Y/N repeated. She then glanced over at her Nightwing collection, more specifically the picture on her wall that someone had taken of him when he wasn’t looking. She slipped out of bed and walked over to the collection. She grabbed the picture and walked over to Dick, holding the picture beside his head, her eyes darting back and forth.

She then let out a small audible gasp, “you really are, huh?”

“Yeah, I am.” Dick agreed, “and I’m…sorry for how I acted earlier—.”

“—You’re sorry?!” Y/N exclaims, “I’ve been saying weird things about Nightwing and it’s been you this whole time?!” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I am so sorry for the things I’ve said to you!”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh at her behavior. “Some of the things were weird, but I couldn’t exactly get mad. I mean, it was just my girlfriend talking about me, even if she didn’t know it.”

“You can’t get mad, but you can get jealous of yourself?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms with a raised brow. “Does that even make any sense?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Wait, why tell me now?” Y/N suddenly asked.

“I had a talk with Barbara about it, and she said if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, it was best if I told you now,” Dick admitted. “I’m sorry for being stupid and not telling you.”

“Dick it’s…fine.” Y/N says, “we both messed up…especially me for obsessing over you like I do. I now realize how weird it was and how uncomfortable I must have made you. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you if you forgive me?”

“Deal.”

[farfromharry]

Summary: Oscar’s girlfriend is starstruck over meeting Lando for the first time, the Aussie isn’t impressed in the slightest

oscar piastri x reader

w/c 1564

Oscar and Y/N had been together for so long that nothing surprised either of them anymore. In the past few years more than anything, Oscar’s life had gotten crazy and yet she adapted well to all of it. So much crazy stuff had happened during their relationship that she had sort of grown used to it. Every now and then she would attend a sporting gala or an award show– something normal people didn’t do. She was desensitised to it. Or so she thought. 

Being a fan of Formula 1 hadn’t come naturally to her. She learned to love it because it was what Oscar loved. For years he had sort of idolised a certain driver and she had heard so much about him that she started to rather enjoy watching him as well. Y/N didn’t realise just how much she had put him on a pedestal. Not until she met him for the first time. 

Obviously she was over the moon when Oscar told her he’d signed for McLaren, and would be teammates with the Lando Norris. It was exciting. For the first few months of them being partnered together, she didn’t have the chance to meet him. Her job and her degree kept her very busy. It wasn’t until Silverstone weekend that she was introduced to him in a manner that he would hold over Oscar’s head for years to come. 

Y/N had been to plenty of races in her life, but none compared to the size of a Formula 1 race. It was overwhelming, but knowing her boyfriend was part of it was thrilling. There were people here cheering his name. Who had travelled to see and support him. She was over the moon that people were finally starting to realise his greatness– even if McLaren had had a less than impressive start to the season. 

She was getting a tour of the McLaren garage for the first time. Oscar looked happy, truly, showing her around, showing off his car. Her heart soared for him. He was in his element. He was halfway through telling her about the new upgrades to his McLaren for the weekend when she interrupted. 

“That’s Lando Norris,” she whispered. 

Oscar nodded. “Yep. My teammate.” He must have seen them as he came into his side of the garage. His eyes fell on them and he smiled politely, in the way you did with new coworkers you were still unsure about. The pair were getting to know each other, but they hadn’t bonded as of yet. Lando started heading their way and Y/N positively freaked out. 

“He’s coming over here. Oh my god.” She turned to Oscar in sheer panic. “What do I do?”

The Aussie’s brow furrowed. Never had his girlfriend acted like this when meeting someone in the motorsport world. Why she was doing it now was a total mystery to him. “What do you mean? You act normal and say hello. He’s just a person.”

She was staring his way like he wasn’t real. “No, he’s–” There was a gasp and then suddenly she grabbed the material of his shirt in a rather tight fist. “He smiled at me.”

He had no idea what was happening. He knew his girlfriend rather enjoyed watching Lando drive, but he didn’t realise it was some sort of idolisation. Maybe she hadn’t noticed herself, not until the idea of meeting him was actually in front of her. She sort of needed to push this down though before he stopped in front of them or Oscar was never going to live this down. 

“Hey, man.” The 2 men shook hands, slight familiarity now displayed between them. Y/N knew better than anyone that sometimes it was hard to get Oscar out of his shell. Meeting new people wasn’t always his strong suit. Especially when the other was so extroverted. Slowly but surely though Lando was getting through to him. They were getting used to each other. She had no fears that they would be friends soon enough. “Excited for the weekend?”

Things felt more promising this weekend than they had all season. Whether it was because it was a home race with a warm crowd or that they finally had something good with their car, the whole garage was holding its breath. Their time would come, and it might be now. 

“Definitely. Seems like everybody’s chanting your name.” The amount of signs and shirts with Lando’s name and number was exceptional. Oscar could only dream. Australia had been welcoming but understandably they still favoured Danny. Maybe someday he could change their minds. 

Lando smiled. He had been a fan favourite for a few years, Silverstone of all places showcasing the most love. It never got any less surreal though. “You’ll get there.” The Brit was sure of that. Oscar was talented. 

The older man’s attention finally turned to Y/N who was practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Hi, I’m Lando.” His hand extended to shake hers and she squeaked in response. He was looking at her, talking to her. Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver, was giving her attention. Upon hearing the noise she let out, he glanced at Oscar with a furrowed brow. Silently asking what was happening. He met a lot of starstruck fans, but not a lot of starstruck guests. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. She’s a bit of a fan apparently.” 

The grin that split on his face was downright evil. He was enjoying this. It was definitely a first, having a fellow driver’s girlfriend fangirl over him. He was painfully smug. 

Y/N swatted her boyfriend’s arm for exposing her. Now she just looked like a crazy person. “Sorry, I just really like watching you drive. You’re so talented.” Her boyfriend felt like he was having some sort of outer body experience watching this interaction. This woman in front of him was nothing like the woman he knew. 

“I like her already.”

Her hand reached out and gripped Oscar’s arm, squeezing. She didn’t even realise she was doing it. “Not as much as she likes you apparently,” he mumbled. Neither of them heard him.

A call of Lando’s name from somewhere in the near distance was Oscar’s saviour. He had never been so glad to get rid of the man he once considered an inspiration. He had a strong feeling this moment was going to keep coming back. What were the odds of Lando letting go of this huge ego boost? “Well, duty calls. Was nice meeting you Y/N. If I win this weekend I’ll be sure to dedicate it to you.” He waved as he headed back to his side of the garage for a chat with his trainer. 

Her jaw dropped. “Did you hear that? He’s gonna dedicate his win to me.” There were almost literal stars in her eyes as she watched him go. Oscar didn’t think she had ever even looked at him like that. She was even twirling her hair around her finger like some crushing teenager. Lando briefly glanced back over his shoulder, saw she was still looking. He offered a wink and a smirk, one that sent all kinds of alarms off in Oscar’s brain. He had never felt a wave of jealousy like it. 

Before he knew what  he was doing, his arm came to wrap around her and his lips glued themselves to her temple. Normally he really wasn’t one for PDA. Right now it felt necessary. His teammate knew what he was doing and he couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew Oscar was the possessive type? Not even him until now. 

“He’s never won, don’t get your hopes up.”

There was some sharpness to his tone. It was easy to pick up on for someone that had known him for so long. “Are you jealous?” The grin on her face was wide, teasing. She couldn’t believe it. She had literally never seen him like this before. He scoffed. Though his cheeks betrayed him, burning a bright red. “Oh my god, you are. Oscar Piastri is jealous!”

“I am not jealous.”

“You totally are.” The woman was overjoyed. It hadn’t been her intention to make him so jealous, but she was loving it. He always cared more than he let on. 

He huffed. “Tell that to the heart eyes you were sending his way.”

It was easy to forget that Oscar was still just a 22 year old in his first serious relationship. Sure they’d been together a while and he was pretty accomplished in his chosen job field, but it didn’t mean they weren’t young and still figuring out life. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart doing flips in her chest. At first she kissed his cheek, then his nose and finally his lips. Melting into her was completely against his will. That was just the effect she had on him though. “I love you, you big baby, not Lando.”

And he knew it was true. 

No doubt the story of how Y/N had fangirled over Lando would be brought up when she and Oscar inevitably got married. In fact the Brit told the story at any given opportunity. No matter how much time had passed, it would still rile him up. Oscar was never going to let her get starstruck again.

[sophrosyncc]

— what's up bro ?

you call the chrysos heirs bro. how do they react to it?

warnings/tags : slight story spoilers (you'll only notice them if you squint your eyes), gender-neutral reader, crack, slight ooc behavior (for the comedic effect) author's note : apologies for suddenly disappearing out of nowhere. I have severely underestimated how busy I'd be 🥀🥀 a bit of silly stuff before the dreaded 3.4 arrives. might edit this later characters : aglaea, anaxa, castorice, phainon.

aglaea

in her many years of leading the flame-chase journey, the last thing she expected was to be called bro.

no. you aren't the first one to call her that. both children and teenagers in the recent age of amphoreus have approached her with that nickname. cipher and phainon are definitely at the scene of the crime as well.

if she dislikes you, she'll ignore you or politely tell you off. unless you're elder caenis which is an entirely different situation on it's own.

compared to the next person on this list, she doesn't mind it if you call her that around others. it'll be a bit awkward at first but she gets used to it. there are far worse names or titles that others have given her, and she's glad that yours comes from a place of no ill intent.

if you are associated with phainon and cipher to a good extent, expect her to ask you if you were dared to do that.

maybe she'll give you an amused smile or laugh a bit after you call her bro. aglaea enjoys the unpredictability you bring in her life filled with daily routines and responsibilities. it's a nice break from what she's usually used to.

the only time you shouldn't is if she's doing something important.

on the other hand, if you're her lover, she'll be a be more playful with you. she may or may not call you bro when you least expect it. what's even worse is that no one will ever believe you if you tell them. the demigod of romance calling you bro out of nowhere sounds more impossible than completing the flame-chase journey.

can you really blame her? it's funny to see you surprised. aglaea can and will be a tease.

if you try to catch her off guard, it won't work.

call her garmentmakers bro as well and she'll enjoy it.

"hm? I don't remember calling you by that nickname. perhaps you have mistaken the voice from one of my garmentmakers for me — some of them can be playful."

anaxa

first of all, why would you call him bro?

are you asking for a death sentence? an early entrance to the nether realm?

or to catch his attention?

we're talking about the man who doesn't want to be called anything but anaxagoras. the same one who corrects everyone to the point he's made it a personal rule — he has a voiceline ranting about his own name.

if the two of you are strangers, he won't hesitate to tell you off. if he dislikes you, he'll give you a glare too or straight up ignore you. he isn't going to waste his time on you when he has better things to attend to.

however, if you're friends or lovers with him, anaxa will stare at you for a few good seconds. the scholar's silently judging you. he doesn't know whether being called bro is better than being called anaxa. to put it simply, it's awkward. he still corrects you in the end.

continue calling him bro after the first time and he'll eventually get used to it.

no. he's not calling you bro. it'll only happen in your dreams.

the era nova will happen before anaxa calls you bro.

call him bro in the classroom or anywhere near his students and he'll give you the nastiest side eye you've ever received. anaxa does not need the troublemakers getting ideas from you. that includes the other chrysos heirs as well.

a huge emphasis on the other chrysos heirs. entertaining the thought of phainon, cipher or aglaea hearing about that gives him dread. give this man some peace please.

"first of all, that's anaxagoras to you and remember that well. secondly, i'm not your bro. refrain from referring to me with such nicknames next time."

castorice

she... doesn't know how to react.

speechless. quiet.

a bit flabbergasted, even.

no worries, you didn't offend her at all. castorice simply doesn't know how to reply.

you are most likely the first one who's ever called her that. congratulations!

not a lot of people approach the hand of death and call them bro casually. people have called her by many names or titles as well, similar to aglaea, and the last thing that comes to mind is a casual nickname. castorice is also aware that she isn't the liveliest person around.

whether you're a stranger or someone she dislikes, she'll give you an awkward nod or ignore you. if there's others around her when you call her bro, she'll think you're talking about someone else. anyone but her.

however, if you're a friend: despite the silly nickname, she likes it.

being called bro isn't something she's definitely used to, but it's a nice and pleasant surprise. it gives her a sense of normalcy and comfort. it'll take more time for her to get used to it compared to the others. call her that with other people in the area and she'll be a bit confused if you're talking about her or someone else.

castorice won't call you bro often, but sometimes she will.

not a lot will change if you're her lover. she'll still react the same for the most part, but I can imagine her surprising you with another silly nickname of her own. it has to be mutual.

please just don't call her that in front of aglaea or tribbie.

she will be a bit embarrassed.

"it's... alright. there's no need to apologize. I enjoy the nickname quite a bit actually. please— don't be scared to call me that again, or other similar words."

phainon

phainon takes it extremely well. too well.

in fact, he'll even reciprocate it.

no one is surprised at all.

it isn't the first time he's heard others call him like that or the first time he's called others bro. call him bro and he's calling you bro as well. equivalent exchange.

he has also called some of the other chrysos heirs bro as well. both of you are guilty of that.

the only time he won't do it is if he dislikes you a lot. if you've played the 3.3 story quest. depending on the situation and how much he dislikes you, he'll either firmly tell you to not do that next time, pretend you didn't call him that, or glare at you.

worry not, it takes a lot to have the deliverer hate you.

if you tell him to stop calling you bro, phainon will respect that. however, he'll find other silly nicknames to call you, ones that you don't mind.

if you're his friend or his lover... good luck. one way or another he'll turn it into a competition on accident or purposefully, and it'll only get more heated if you're just as competitive as he is. get ready to have bets over who can come up with the most absurd nicknames in one minute or something else.

just be careful to not drag anyone into it, lest the two of you want to replicate chaos that could rival penacony's disaster.

"bro? haha! I didn't expect that but I'm not against it either. I guess that means you're my bro now as well. what? don't look at me like that."

masterlist

[ashthesalamipiece]

Haiii could you do mom f!reader x dadkatsuki and reader that can’t cook… like at all.. and she wants to learn so katsuki shows her and eventually everyone likes her stuff :3

"Explosive in the Kitchen"

Pairing: Dad!Katsuki Bakugou x Mom!F!Reader

Genre: Fluff / Slice of Life / Humor / Domestic

TW: None! Just good ol' kitchen chaos and love

---

You stare down the pan like it personally insulted you. Smoke is curling up from the charred remains of what was supposed to be pancakes, and the fire alarm is making your toddler cry in the background.

Katsuki bursts into the kitchen like he just heard a villain crash through the window.

“The hell did you do this time?!”

“I—I was trying to make breakfast!”

He scoffs, snatching a towel and waving it at the smoke detector. “Trying to murder the kitchen?”

You pout. “Shut up.”

Bakugou glances over at your son, who's rubbing his teary little eyes and clinging to his stuffed Dynamight plushie. “Oi, come here, lil' bean.” He hoists your kid into one arm effortlessly, flicks the stove off with the other, and then turns back to you with that signature look—equal parts unimpressed and fond.

“You really wanna learn to cook that bad?” he asks, voice softer now.

“I just wanna make one meal without setting off the alarm,” you mutter. “I’m a mom. I should be able to do this stuff.”

He snorts. “You’re a great mom. You just suck in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Come on. I’ll teach you.”

---

The first few lessons go... predictably bad. You nearly cut your finger trying to julienne a carrot (he snatches the knife away and gives you a look), and you somehow set rice on fire—rice. Bakugou looks personally offended by that one.

“You put it in a pot and add water,” he groans, massaging his temples. “You don’t broil it!”

“Okay but it said high heat—”

“No one means that literally!!”

Still, he doesn’t give up on you. He teaches you how to hold a knife properly, how to test oil with a wooden spoon, and how to tell when onions are "sweating" versus "burning."

You start small—onigiri, tamagoyaki, miso soup—and he stands behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, guiding your hands, muttering instructions into your ear in that gruff but secretly gentle voice.

And when you get it right, even once, he grins.

“Not bad, fire-hands.”

“I don’t even have a quirk like that.”

“Still cooked like a villain with a grudge at first. You’re improving.”

---

A few weeks later, you make dinner all by yourself while he’s out picking up your son from daycare. It’s nothing fancy—curry rice, a salad, some fluffy steamed eggs—but you plate it with nervous pride.

When he walks in, he pauses. Sniffs the air. Raises a brow.

“You didn’t order takeout?”

“Nope. I made it.”

He stares at the table. Then at you.

Then he takes a bite.

And another.

And another.

Your son giggles as he shoves rice into his mouth with baby chopsticks. “Mama food good!”

Bakugou wipes his mouth, leans back, and grins like he’s already writing your name in the Hall of Fame.

“Look at you,” he mutters, “goin’ from arsonist to housewife.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warm. “Don’t push it.”

He kisses your cheek anyway. “I’m proud of you.”

You beam. Because yeah—you finally didn’t burn the house down. And your little family loves your food. That’s more than enough.

[johannestevans]

a thing i love about kai winn is the way in which she is OBSESSED with personal responsibility as a way of absolving herself of her influence over others.

it's bareil's CHOICE to kill himself because she won't tell him not to. it's people's CHOICE to follow their d'jarras. "i won't interfere."

this poor insane and absurdly scarred woman who is repeatedly and continuously rejected by her own gods. a starfleet human is their new messiah, to whom the prophets continuously reach out. the prophets are speaking to everybody but her - not just kira, youthful and disobedient and chaotic

but fucking. more humans. a trill. odo. a FERENGI!!!!

forsaken by the prophets during the occupation and like… it's so easy for kira to judge her, she thinks, when kira had weapons, and winn never did. all she had was her mind and her ability to talk and manipulate and bribe

and she is so absurdly lonely. she's no longer in a prison cell the way she was for most of the occupation, but she may as well be. everyone thinks her cold and treacherous - the ds9 cmo calls her a coward to her face! her!!!! a priestess who has survived a genocide, this CHILD, calls her a coward!!

and in her mind i think it's just. so much easier to think of everything in terms of… people make choices. she's not making anyone do anything. she's not holding a gun or the weight of an occupying force. she's not making any threats. people can just make their choices. like she has - has had to

and like. god. her gods do not give a single fuck about her. when she's finally able to reach out to them outright that they do not think about her and if they did they would think she's fucking cringe. when your own gods say you're not worth shit, well, okay! i guess she'll do whatever then!

i understand why people have like. a massive knee jerk response to winn - i do think that people wrongly conflate her fundamentalism with american christian fundamentalism & its ideologies, bc like. she is not an american. she is not a member of the dominant culture. she is a genocide survivor

and god like. you can see the acid in her mouth whenever she's negotiating with the cardassians, but more than that like. kira as a member of the bajoran militia works very closely with starfleet, and she's also federation-pilled from hanging out with those rootbeer-drinking freaks 24/7

winn doesn't have that. all she has is the knowledge that starfleet watched the cardassians rape and pillage and abuse and murder her people for decades and not give a flying fuck because the bajorans didn't have anything they wanted. and then the wormhole appeared. and suddenly they were helping

and idk like. she's so painfully uncomfortable with quark naming a fucking dessert after her and trying to get her to try it bc she's not a fucking celebrity and she doesn't want to be.

kira accuses her of wanting fame and her place in history but that's so clearly not what she cares about

she genuinely DOES want what's best for her people. and unfortunately, like kira, she very much has an all or nothing spirit about the whole thing. for winn, that doesn't mean bombing the families of oppressors or blowing up DS9 to stop the cardassians from taking it. it means shit like this

taking every single advantage she can get, using up her assets even when those assets are dying in front of her, even when super fucking unethical medical stuff is being done - letting bareil die when, really, he didn't need to, just for one treaty where there will be others, frankly

but kai can't think of all the people she's killing or leaving behind, because she's not that kind of strategician and she's not ACTUALLY interested in Going Down In History. what she wants, what she has always wanted, is to save what she sees as The Core of Bajor as best she can, and preserve it

part of that is saving people, redirecting prison ships, fucking off the cardassians, getting these treaties signed. part of that IS keeping starfleet at arm's length and, frankly, ensuring that bajor doesn't become a federation planet and get subsumed into federation culture.

and most of all it's faith and doctrine and her fundamentalist understandings of bajoran texts and the teachings of the prophets, because that is what helped her survive, and therefore, in her fucked-up head, all that MUST survive in perpetuity

god. i love that awful woman

[saturns-peachy-honeymoon]

dating dallas winston hcs

content: what it would be like to date dallas winston

warning: suggestive. honestly, dallas is his own warning at this point

Dallas is so jealous 

He will literally fight a guy for looking at you

You’re one of the few people he shows his softer side to

Dally is always stealing stuff for you 

He’ll give you his ring to wear 

You make him want to be better 

Dallas would never say it out loud, but it’s really important to him that you get along with the gang. Especially Johnny and Ponyboy (they will definitely be tagging along on many of your dates) 

Will give you his jacket in a second 

Always patching him up after fights

Dally loves sneaking in your window (and sneaking you out of your window for that matter)

Your parents most definitely do not like him (sorry, bestie)

Dating Dally is like having scary dog privileges - no one dares to mess with you 

He’s the best at keeping secrets 

Dally’s not always the best at apologies (usually takes a push from someone in the gang to do it right)

Lots of late-night drives 

Dallas steals stuff for you constantly 

You’re one of the only people who can calm him down when he’s in one of his moods

He definitely tries to rile you up cause he finds you hot when you’re angry 

He actually really likes it when you call him on his shit 

When you guys make out he is always trying to slide his hands under your clothes, he's insatiable

Dallas is lowkey highkey a horndog (sorry, not sorry)

Dally claims what’s his, and if you’re his person, trust everyone will know

His hands are ALWAYS on you

Around your waist

Hugging you from behind

Pulling you into his lap 

Hand on your thigh 

Will make out with you anytime, any day, no matter who’s present 

He's shameless. But god, help the idiot who calls him out on how affectionate he is with you

Dally calls you “Babe”, “Doll”, and “Angel” more than your own name 

The gang hears him call you “My girl” so much they didn’t know you’re actual name until they finally met you 

The gang is constantly teasing him about going soft 

He doesn’t say I love you or I miss you in the traditional way, but he is so loyal 

“Dally? What are you doing here? It’s 2 a.m.” You asked as you watched your boyfriend slide through your window. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” He said smoothly, grabbing your hips to pull you closer, his lips ghosting over yours.

You gasped, “Dallas Winston, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me.” 

“Nah, doll,” Dally scoffed, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. “Just wanted to see ya, that’s all.”

a/n: who’s gonna tell him? 

If you’re alone, Dallas absolutely melts when you touch his face. He always leans into your hand like he hasn’t been touched that gently in years… which he hasn’t

He will never admit it, but he loves it when you run your fingers through his hair 

You help him see the sweeter things in life

[goddamnitmahtin]

All in Your Head

(a dc x dp au)

Bruce: *shaking Harley’s hand* Thanks for coming to see me on short notice.

Harley: It’s no problem. I didn’t have plans today.

Bruce: *leads her to the sitting area, sitting in an armchair*

Harley: *sits across from him* What’s going on Bruce? Is it system stuff? I thought you all were doing pretty okay last session. All things considered.

Bruce: I thought so too but…. I found another voice or alter I guess? And I don’t know when he got here. If he’s been here the whole time or if maybe I got stressed out and split? I dunno.

Harley: *nods* Both are possible… your split tolerance isn’t the best Bruce. What do you know about this new alter so far?

Bruce: He says his name is Danny and that he’s 15. *shrugs* I don’t know what he looks like. Matches says that he looks the way we did in high school but sometimes he’s a ghost. I don’t even know what that means.

Harley: *writing down notes* So he’s a non human alter. This wouldn’t be the first one you’ve had.

Bruce: *thinking about the dark shadow person with bat ears that crawls around on the ceilings in headspace* I’m aware…

Harley: Is Danny close to front right now? Is there any way we can communicate with him?

Bruce: *trying to check* Um… no. But B is near front. He says he’s gonna look for him.

Harley: *smiles* Your gatekeeper is very responsible.

Bruce: *sighs* I do not know what I would do without that guy- I would not be able to handle our kids- *dissociates*

Harley: *waits patiently*

Bruce: *realizes someone is trying to switch* Gimme a second-

Harley: Take all the time you need.

*a few moments pass in silence*

Danny!Bruce: Someone asked for me?

Harley: *smiles, holding out a hand* I’m Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I am assuming you are Danny?

Danny!Bruce: *sits up excitedly* Oh my god lady- you gotta help me- I possessed this rich guy thinking I could lay low for a bit while my core healed but now I’m stuck in here and there’s like a lot of dudes in here and some sort of bat shadow thing? It’s scary as fuck- I just wanna go home-

Harley: *calming voice* It’s okay Danny. You are probably a little confused about your situation.

Danny!Bruce: *groans, his face in his hands* I just wanna go home…

Harley: *assuming Danny is talking about false memories* Why don’t you tell me a little bit about that? What you remember before joining the headspace?

Danny!Bruce: I live in Amity Park. It’s a pretty secluded area. I have a mom and dad and a sister named Jazz. I’ve got two best friends, Sam and Tucker. Literally where am I right now- because this isn’t Amity Park.

Harley: You are in a city called Gotham.

Danny!Bruce: Fucking Gotham!? Holy Cheerios, no wonder this guy’s brain is so weird…. This place is practically as volatile as Amity Park. This also explains the huge amounts of ecto in some of these kids-

Harley: *frowns* Ecto?

[holoska]

after debating for weeks whether to stay very far away from the deltarune soriel discourse or let myself ramble about my faves like I want to, the latter has finally won out

I've had time to properly absorb the weight of all that happens at the end of chapter 4, and obviously I do feel for both kris and susie. that is The Point of the scenes being from their perspectives; after everything they just went through and all the worry they had for toriel's safety (for the second time in 24 hours!), the scene they come home to is maybe the most uncomfortable slap in the face possible. it sticks out to me that the last thing susie talks about before the dark fountain is sealed is her wanting tomorrow to be the same as yesterday and for everything to always be able to go back to how it was, and that's what greets them - a blatant, obnoxious sign that things are changing. even though the scene has a lighthearted side, its overall tone adds to the downcast feeling the chapter ends on.

having said that, as someone who has spent the past 9 and a half years being normal about sans and toriel, I'm still very very happy that this is a canon scene we got 💜

the fandom may be largely not considering their perspectives in the slightest (or worse, only viewing their perspectives from the most bad faith angles possible), but I for one love this for them!! as other very good posts have pointed out, toriel has been sorely in need of someone who's there for her - an awful lot of people in town saw the divorce play out and have something to say about it, the holiday family are closer to asgore than toriel, kris is her child and stuck in the middle of their parents' issues, and while she's friends with alphys, them being coworkers and alphys being kris' teacher likely puts a distance of sorts between them. but sans is new in town, someone she immediately connects with, who has no pre-existing opinions about her family and has seen firsthand what toriel has to put up with from asgore. in every universe, sans is exactly the kind of person toriel needs in her life.

there's less to work with from sans' perspective given how little we know about him, and I'm not all-in on sans being from deltarune just yet (more specifically I do love the theory, I'm just giving myself room to not be too disappointed if it doesn't happen), but the new version of it's raining somewhere else being named 'the place where it rained' emotionally destroys me forever. either way it drives home just how happy toriel makes sans in both worlds and I love that so so much :']

to be clear I'm not saying they did nothing wrong, their choices negatively impacted kris and susie and they were objectively disruptive and inconsiderate after kris went to bed. but I like that they're being messy and flawed, because it means this isn't just "my faves are getting closer in the background yippee" but that their relationship is potentially an actual part of the story, and that's how you get The Good Stuff!! we wouldn't have had meaningful character moments like noelle finally standing up to queen if queen hadn't tried to control noelle and just listened to her from the start, or susie comforting ralsei with her bloodied hand if he'd told her and kris every detail of the full prophecy the moment he met them and never kept any secrets. if all the hints towards a flower shop dark world turn out to be true then it's pretty clear the story is building things up to make those future character moments hit, and considering we still don't know what happened with the dreemurr divorce at this point, chapter 5 seems like a perfect opportunity to dive into all of that.

plus, as sweet as susie's bond with toriel is, I honestly think susie seeing this side of toriel needed to happen. a lot of the fandom's complaints about toriel right now boil down to her not being the "perfect mother" they thought she was, and what bothers me about that is toriel was never meant to be that kind of character. toby has said that she's not the classic video game protagonist's mother who sees you off on your journey and you can come home and visit any time, and nothing changes and she never has any substantial character of her own. in undertale she literally handholds frisk through the tutorial, she becomes the first boss in her attempt to protect them when every other human left her care, and once they leave she won't let them come back or even call her phone because she can't face seeing them knowing they'll leave again and likely be killed. she's more than just the mother figure of the game, she's her own person with likes and dislikes, hobbies and flaws, and a past and trauma she can't overcome until the best ending.

we've only seen the tip of the iceberg of her history in deltarune, but that same principle holds true: she isn't the perfect parent you return to after each day's adventure, who gives you butterscotch pancakes every morning and never has any real part in the story because that isn't the intent behind her character. she mentioned her loneliness back in chapter 1, kris has secrets and problems they aren't letting her in on, asgore is being relentlessly inconsiderate of her boundaries, and for all susie's praise of toriel being a good mother, I think that house of cards was going to fall eventually. my hope is that, like her blowing up at ralsei ultimately bringing them closer, susie being able to see toriel as the imperfect adult she is but one who does genuinely care might help them build a stronger bond in the end too.

I think I always knew that if soriel ever inched closer to being canon there'd be discourse about it, and toriel slander is unfortunately nothing new. people are just being annoying about it currently and it sucks when I genuinely love what's being built up here!!

anyway crossing my fingers for a scene where toriel invites sans to the festival before she gets thrown in the bunker/he gets sent to undertale/the roaring happens/all of the above 🤞

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Five

Max and Charles aren't exactly a pack. But they want to be, especially when the half feral little werewolf starts driving in Carlos's place after an injury. Unfortunately, things aren't always that simple

Lestappen X Reader Werewolf AU

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Mad Max. A name that hadn't been used in a good long while. Last season he hadn't needed to be Mad Max, not when he was the only one winning. 

It was a fitting nickname, sometimes. That was what Charles realised as he sat beside him. On top of the bed covers, his ass positively sore. It wasn't Max he'd just had sex with. No, it was Mad Max. 

He'd slept with Mad Max before, just a few times. But those times hadn't been because Max was mad. It was after he had moved himself and his cats to Monaco, when the full moon was near and he needed to stuff his cock in something. That something, more often than not, was Charles. 

His neck ached as he reached up, touching the bitemarks Max had left behind. "Sorry," Max muttered as he grabbed a cold can of drink from the mini fridge. "At least they've stopped bleeding." 

Charles released a dry laugh from his lips. "Who knew one practice would have you so riled up," he said and laid back. He stared at the ceiling, a smile crossing his face. 

He knew exactly why that practice had Mad Max showing his face. Every time he set the fastest lap, the fastest lap was taken from him. FP1 wasn't supposed to be for going fast, but Max couldn't stop himself from racing her. And she couldn't help but race him back. Even with Max in a superior car, she raced him. 

In FP2, it was the same story. 

"She's incredible," Charles said, still holding the can against his neck. He wouldn't drink whatever was inside, just use it to sooth the wounds that Max created. Wounds Max wanted him to wear with pride, wounds he couldn't bring himself to wear. 

"Incredible?" Max scoffed. He shook his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "Not the words I'd use. 

Charles sat up and let the can fall into his lap. "What words then, Max? How would you describe Birdy?" 

Max didn't mean to recoil. "You've given her a name? Fuck, Charles, you really are planning on keeping this one, aren't you?" 

"Answer the question, Max." 

He let a scowl overtake his features. "You wanna know? Fine, Charles. I'll fucking tell you!" He kicked his suitcase, flipping it over and emptying it of his clothes. "She's dangerous and viscous and she's gonna be the reason you don't get into the car!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

Suddenly Charles was on his feet, too. It was going to go one of two ways, always did with Mad Max. Either Charles was going to be back on the bed, letting Max take out his aggression, or he was going to let out of there, let Max stew in his anger. 

If it wasn't about Birdy, that sweet sweet girl, Charles would have been on his hands and knees, face pushed into the pillow. 

But it was about Birdy. 

Grabbing his things from the floor, Charles marched out of the hotel room. Max didn't know what he was saying, especially not about his Birdy. His Birdy, because nobody knew what they were saying, not when it came to her. 

Even as he walked down the hall, barely dressed, the bite marks in his shoulder throbbing, he could hear Max. No doubt destroying the room, tearing it up. Mad Max. It was no full moon; it was pure anger. His usual outlet, winning races and being the fastest person alive, wasn't hitting it anymore. Because he wasn't the fastest person alive, and he fucking hated it. 

Charles couldn't help but sigh as he walked into his room. This wasn't his Max, the one he had molded. Max, who was usually the kindest man in the room. That kindness born from a childhood full of abuse. 

Just like Birdy, Charles thought. Max and Birdy, matching sides of two coins. And Charles was the other side of both those coins. She could be just as sweet as Max, he knew. She just needed a chance. 

Charles wasn't speaking to him. Max watched him, watched from the Red Bull garage as Charles walked past him. Normally he was the last person there, first to leave. But he had gotten there early, just for a chance to speak to Charles. 

But Charles wouldn't speak to him. 

Eventually, Max gave up waiting for Charles to catch his eye, to come and speak to them. All he wanted was to make up for his mistakes, all he wanted was that chance. A chance Charles wasn't giving him. 

He strode across the Red Bull garage, making his way to the Ferrari garage. "Charles," he called, and the Il Predestinato looked at him. He stepped closer and not close enough all that once. Close enough to keep it casual, too far away to show how he really felt. 

"Charles, I want to apologise for last night," he said, trying to keep himself quiet, keep the words just between them. 

Charles hadn't yet looked at him. He didn't turned towards Max when he spoke, didn't pay him any attention. Max's jaw twitched, but he didn't let it show on his face. "I was out of line, I know, and-" 

"It's not me you need to apologise to." 

Max stilled. 'Not me you need to apologise to.' "Charlie, you can't be serious," Max whispered as he reached out to grab his arm. But Charles stepped out of reach. He looked past Max, looked across the garage. 

Max looked too. 

Birdy. That was the name Charles had given you. Beast was the name given to you by the rest of the motorsport world, the name Max knew you by. And you were a beast,  vicious beast who had gone to attack Charles. You were dangerous, and you had made that perfectly clear. 

Max steadied himself. He sucked in a breath and strode across the garage. 

It was hard to see the sweetness that Charles saw in you, not with the muzzle covering your mouth and the shock collar around your neck. You hadn't noticed him yet, head bowed as your muzzle was taken off and your balaclava was given to you.

When your handler told you to put it on, you did so. Your helmet came next, acting as a replacement for the muzzle. You fastened it under your chin, head tipping back slightly. 

And then you locked eyes with him. 

Max Verstappen. Current World Champion, lead in this year's championship. He stood before you, looking awkward and uncomfortable all at once. You couldn't help but match his pose, looking just as awkward and uncomfortable. Your helmet managed to hide your expression, though. 

"Hello," Max said, trying to get a look at your reaction. It was near impossible to get a read on you though, not with the helmet on. He looked back at Charles, watching the both of you. 

He cleared his throat, attention back on you. You hadn't looked away from him. "Look," he began, his hands dropping. "I'm sorry for..." But what was he sorry for? For thinking that you were dangerous? That was the truth, wasn't it? You were dangerous. 

"Okay, here's the thing. Charles is mad at me, so can we just pretend that we've had this big talk and I apologised for stuff?" 

The way he looked at you, expecting something. You blinked at him. If he wanted to apologise, he could go ahead and do so. But this wasn't much of an apology. 

"Come on, Beast-"

"Birdy." 

It had surprised even you. The word left your lips so suddenly, your brows furrowing beneath your helmet. You didn't want to be a beast, not anymore. 

Max stared at you, his blue eyes blown wide. "W-what?" He looked around, looking to see if anybody else had heard it. But everyone around the two of you was much too preoccupied with whatever they were doing. "Say it again, go on," he tried, but your lips were sealed. 

Speaking out of turn. 

Speaking out of turn.

Bad little wolves get punished of speaking out of turn. 

You stumbled back, trying to get away from him. "Wait," he called, but you were gone, disappearing further into the garage. 

Max desperately looked around for someone else that had heard you. But nobody else had. Birdy. The name Charles had given you. The fear had been so evident in your eyes the moment the name left your lips, he couldn't help the sadness that shot through him.

a/n: you guys can thank supreme-mango and her continued harassment of me for this quick update

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