#and having to be told over and over again

[deathdefyinglifeleaps]

tags by @bbcphile

I was just hit with the image of Jinu going around the demon realm looking for demons who were attractive or could sing and being like “Join my emo k-pop demon boy band”

[mooningningg]

notes, if we had drunk reader request we have a drunk sukuna too.

★ Roommate!Sukuna comes home drunk.

The front door slammed open at exactly 2:37 a.m.

You jolted awake on the couch, bleary-eyed and clutching your blanket like a shield. It wasn’t even alarming anymore — not with Sukuna as your roommate. Noise, chaos, and poor life decisions? Standard package deal.

What was alarming… was the voice.

“Stop fuckin’ pushin’ me—‘m home, bitch!” he slurred, clearly talking to someone who was not there. “I know where I live. Stupid ass door tryna square up…”

There was a thud. Then a pause.

“Fucking wall came outta nowhere.”

You groaned and sat up, flipping on a lamp.

Sure enough, there he was: Sukuna, in all his drunken glory, half-stumbling into the apartment with his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his belt flapping like a sad flag of surrender. His hair was a mess, there was lipstick on his jaw — not yours, definitely not his — and his keys were still dangling from the lock.

“Oh my God,” you muttered. “You're drunk.”

Sukuna blinked at you.

Then squinted.

Then frowned.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You stared.

“Sukuna. It’s me.”

He pointed at you, wobbling. “Nah. Nope. You're not her. You don’t smell like y/n. She smells like laundry detergent and rage.”

“I am your y/n.”

“No, no. She’s hot. Way hotter. Got this mouth on her too, always talkin’ back. Yells at me when I leave ramen in the sink.”

You blinked. “Are you… complimenting me or fighting a ghost?”

He huffed and made a dramatic show of leaning against the wall, sliding down like a tragic hero in a Shakespeare play. “I want my roommate. My rude, scary, mean-ass roommate who makes me soup when I’m sick and yells when I steal her socks.”

“You’re wearing my socks right now.”

He looked down. Blinked.

“They’re warm,” he said, like it explained everything. Then his eyes narrowed at you again. “Where is she?”

“You’re actually looking at her.”

“Nooo,” he said, dragging the word out like a child. “You’re too nice. She’s not nice. She yells. She calls me gremlin when I play TikToks too loud.”

“You left your phone in the fridge yesterday.”

He gasped. “She told you that?! Fuckin’ snitch.”

“That was me, Sukuna!”

He stared at you, eyes glassy. Then slowly leaned his head back against the wall with the softest bonk.

“…She’s gonna be so mad when she finds out I threw up in her laundry basket.”

You went still. “You what.”

He moaned dramatically and curled up on the floor like a Victorian widow. “Just kill me now. She’s gonna take my skin and sell it on Etsy.”

“I should!”

“But at least I’ll die smelling like her dryer sheets,” he sighed.

You threw a pillow at his face.

He caught it — sort of. It bounced off his forehead, and he mumbled something about betrayal.

Finally, you sighed and walked over, crouching beside him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I can walk,” he grunted, then immediately wobbled as he tried to stand and reached for you blindly. “Where’s my scary y/n. I want her to carry me.”

You rolled your eyes, hoisting his arm over your shoulder. “Still me.”

He leaned heavily into you, breath warm against your temple.

“…You smell like her.”

“I am her, Sukuna.”

He groaned. “Then you’re way prettier than usual.”

You blinked. “That’s not even an insult.”

“You’re not even real,” he muttered as you half-dragged him down the hall. “She’s not this nice. This must be a dream.”

You shoved open his bedroom door and dumped him onto the bed. “If it is, it’s about to be a nightmare.”

He grunted as he flopped over, hugging a pillow. “Tell my roommate she’s hot. But also scary. But like… the hot kind of scary. And if she’s still mad about the laundry basket, tell her I love her.”

Your stomach twisted just a little.

You blinked. “What?”

But Sukuna was already snoring.

Dead to the world.

And covered in your socks.

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh.

[nekonaps0]

The mood is gone pt1

✦part2

✦gn!reader

✦ characters: Trey, Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Idia, Lilia

✦slightly smut

✦how the boys would react when things are just about to get heated with their beloved… and then bam! someone barges in, killing the mood.

Trey Clover

Everything was perfect. The kitchen was quiet, the air thick with sugar and tension, and Trey had you backed against the counter, voice low and teasing as his lips brushed your ear.

“You taste sweeter than anything I’ve ever baked…”

His hands slid around your waist, lips ghosting along your jawline when—


CRASH.

“YO TREY! Did you put those tarts in the oven—”

Ace burst through the door, freezing when he spotted the two of you tangled together like frosting on warm cake.

Trey jolted back with an awkward chuckle, eyes wide.

“Ace—!”

“Oh. Ohhh. My bad. Real bad. Continue. Or not. I’ll just—bye!” slams door

You sighed, untangling from Trey’s arms.

“Yeah… the mood’s gone, thanks Ace…”

you muttered and left, cheeks flushed in irritation.

Trey stood there, stunned for a second. Then, quietly:

“Ace is never eating anything I bake again.”

Later that night, he showed up at your dorm with a slice of your favorite pie and the softest apology kisses you’ve ever tasted.

Leona Kingscholar

The sun was setting over the sands of Savannaclaw’s yard, but inside Leona’s dorm room? The heat was from something entirely different.

You were pinned beneath him, his voice low and growly as he nipped at your throat, smirking when you shivered.

“Told ya I could make you purr, herbivore…”

But then—


BANG

“Oi, Leona! You left your stupid practice schedule out and now Vargas is—”


Ruggie’s voice froze mid-sentence.

Leona slowly lifted his head from your neck, and Ruggie turned a delightful shade of oh no.

“...My bad, boss.”

You wriggled free, cheeks hot and mood completely dead.

“Well, that’s ruined. The mood’s gone. Good bye Leona.”

You left with a sigh. Leona blinked once.

Then:

“Ruggie.”

“...Yeah?”

“You’re cleaning the training yard alone for a month...”

“Yeah… I know that’s coming… shit…”

Later that night, Leona tracked you down and wordlessly pulled you into his lap, whispering against your collarbone:

“Let me fix the mood. Right now.”

Floyd Leech

You were breathless, half-laughing and squirming beneath Floyd on his bed. His fingers grazed your thigh, teeth just barely nipping your earlobe as he growled:

“Shrimpy looks so biteable tonight…”

Your fingers tangled in his shirt. His knee nudged yours apart—

Knock knock. Door opens anyway.

“Floyd, Azul wanted to remind you to—”


Jade blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

“Ah. You’re... busy. My bad.”

Floyd turned his head slowly.

“Jade...”

“Just passing through.” click Door closes.

You groaned, shoving your face into Floyd’s chest.

“Mood’s gone,” you muttered. “Completely gone.”

You stood and left. Floyd looked betrayed.

“But shrimpy...! We were at the good part… nooo…!”

Later that night, he pouted on your bed, peppering you with annoyed kisses like a sad eel.

“Stupid Jade. Mood killer. I’ll get you back in the mood, Shrimpy... even if I gotta start from scratch~”

Jamil Viper

The music was slow, the lights low, and Jamil had you caged against his room wall, voice husky with restraint as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me…?”

He kissed you, hot and firm. Your hands slid under his shirt—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—BANG.

“Jamil!! Are you in here?! I learned a new trick with the flying carpet and—OH!”

Kalim stood in the doorway, eyes wide with genuine innocence.

You gasped, pushing Jamil back.

“Kalim!” You both screamed.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! You two looked busy!” door slams shut

You straightened your clothes, flustered and groaning.

“thanks to Kalim…Mood’s gone. Se you later Jamil.”

You left. Jamil stood frozen for three seconds.

“...I’m going to hex that carpet.”

Later, he cornered you in the hallway, muttering

“Im sorry for what happened, I’ll triple-lock the door next time.”

Idia Shroud

You were in his room… yes, the room. The glowing screens, and Idia looking like he might combust from how hard he was trying to be smooth.

“Uhh... so... if you wanted to, like, maybe... take this to, um, level 18?”

Your lips were already on his. His hair flickered neon pink as his hands trembled on your waist—

DING DING!


Ortho's voice chirped from behind the closed door

“Big Brother! You said you’d test my new program pack today! Should I come in—?”

“NOOOOOOO—!!”

Idia dove off you so fast he might’ve phased into the digital plane.

You blinked.

“Yeah. That killed it. Mood’s gone. I think it would be better if I go now.”

And you walked out. He groaned into a pillow, hair now a dull blue.

“I’m gonna fake my own death. Then I’ll haunt the server room and live in eternal shame.”

Later, he shyly tapped on your door with snacks and a very nervous

“I promise… it’s never gonna happen again…”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia had you right where he wanted you—against his chest, your breath shallow, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Careful, my love. Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have to bite…”

You squeaked. He smirked.

“So delicious when you tremble.”

His hands wandered lower when—


SLAM.

“LILIA-SAMA!? I HEARD STRANGE SOUNDS—!”

Sebek burst in, wild-eyed and shouting.

“Sebek!” you both yelled at once.

You scrambled away from Lilia, flushed and fuming.

“Mood’s gone. I’m done! Bye.”

You stormed out while Lilia slowly turned to Sebek, a twitch in his brow.

“...boy… we gonna have a really fun training tomorrow… I hope you’re ready.”

Later, Lilia showed up at your window, upside-down, charming as ever.

“Now... where were we, my dear~?”

..............................................................................................................................

[the-shedevil-writes]

A Night to Remember (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: When Phoenix sets Bob up on a blind date with one of her closest friends, he’s already nervous. So when he finds her to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s convinced he’s out of his league. But as the night unfolds, he starts to realize they may work together better than he ever expected. WORD COUNT: 3.7k WARNINGS: Super fluffy. First date/Blind date! Reader is a big nerd- D&D and comics. Nervous Bob. Kissing. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob sat with his thigh anxiously bouncing in the booth at The Hard Deck. In a white polo tucked into a pair of black slacks, he held a small bouquet of daisies mixed with a few other light blue flowers. All at the advice of Phoenix, of course, who sat in front of him currently.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” She said, looking down at her phone to check. “I’m telling you, Bob. You’re gonna get along.”

When his pilot had come up to him, saying that she was setting him up, it was like she had experienced a stroke of genius and needed to experiment. She told him that she was setting him up with one of her close friends who had recently moved to San Diego. And that just made him all the more nervous. What if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt awkward bringing her friend around? Or what if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt weird around HIM? 

Bob didn’t exactly have the most experience with dating. He took a girl to prom once and went on a date or two after enlisting, but nothing ever came out of it. Next thing he knew, he was 30 and he felt like he was falling behind all his friends who were either getting married or had at the very least a boatload of experience. This blind date felt like walking into a minefield.

“Do I look alright?” He asked with wide eyes

“You look like your usual dorky self.”

Then her phone chimed, and Bob’s head whipped over to it. Phoenix looked and nodded. “She’s here. I’m gonna walk her in then… It’s all up to you, bud.” She tapped the table excitedly as she got up.

“Don’t say that.” Bob groaned, nervous out of his goddamn mind. 

As she left and walked out the front doors, he looked down at the flowers that he had gotten. According to Phoenix, she liked blues and pinks. But they didn’t have any pink flowers… He hoped they sufficed. He gently moved some of the flowers with bent stems and fixed the arrangement so nothing was falling out. 

After a moment, he looked back up and saw Phoenix open the door for someone. Her. His jaw dropped slightly, and he suddenly understood why Phoenix refused to show pictures. If he had seen pictures, he would’ve believed it was some kind of prank. She was gorgeous. She wore a simple, white dress with a square neckline that fit snugly on her figure. Her hair was down, and it gently blew in the beach breeze, then settled as she walked inside. His eyes traveled down her legs to see the little red heels she wore. 

Dear God, what was Phoenix thinking, setting her up with him? His entire face turned pink, and he had to force himself to manually breathe. He watched Phoenix point him out, and his date turned and smiled at him. Bob quickly scrambled to stand at her beautiful smile like he was called to attention. Should he walk to meet her? Should he wait by the table? 

But she was already walking towards him. 

“Bob?” Her sweet voice called out as she got close enough. 

He nodded nervously. “Hi.” His own voice sounded like sandpaper in his head.

She smiled again. “I’m Y/n. Phoenix’s friend.” She looked him up and down with a small smirk, and it made his heart pound in his chest. Was that a good look? Or a bad look? 

Bob put his hand out. His internal thoughts screamed at him that a handshake was entirely stupid, but she took it excitedly. Then he remembered what was in his other hand. 

“These are for you.” He said with his typical crooked smile, and he held out the flowers.

She gasped and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He silently prayed a thank you to Phoenix. Taking the flowers in her hands, they complemented her perfectly. 

“Thank you so much. I’ve never gotten flowers on a first date. That’s so thoughtful.” She said

“Well, Phoenix helped me pick out which ones you might like.” He admitted. It felt like a dumb move to say that, but he kept to his guns. “Wanna- wanna sit down?”

She nodded and looked over at the booth before sitting down. Bob followed to sit across from her. Then he quickly realized-

“Wait! Uh- would you like a drink?” He asked 

“Oh. A water would be nice.” She smiled

“Got it.” He nodded before awkwardly scooching back out of the booth.

When he made it to the bar, he was practically hyperventilating. There sat Phoenix, who watched him with a smug smirk. Bob got the attention of Penny first. He didn’t wanna make it seem like an excuse to talk to Phoenix. Maybe he was overthinking all of this.

“Hi. Can I get a water and a Diet Coke? Actually, make that a water and two Diet Cokes. Please.” Bob said. He figured he might as well get her something just in case.

Phoenix’s laugh finally brought his attention to her. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out, Floyd.” 

His eyes widened at her. “What were you thinking? My first date in years, and you set me up with a girl I have no chance with?” He asked quietly through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes. “Just. Talk to her. You’ll see.” 

Penny slid over the two Cokes and the water glass. He quickly scooped them up and walked back over to the table, looking back at Phoenix nervously.

Y/n looked up at him with eager eyes as he sat back down. 

“You like Diet Coke?” She teased him about having two.

He chuckled nervously and slid into the booth again. “I do, but the other one’s for you in case you wanted something other than water.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

The words were so simple, yet his face turned a bright shade of pink. 

She took a sip of her water, very obviously eyeing him up and down again with a small smile around her straw. After she swallowed, she started:

“So you’re Phoenix’s WSO?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I backseat for her. She’s great. Uh- she tells me that you’re her friend from school?”

“Mhm! We’ve been close friends since elementary school. All through high school, too. But then she enlisted, and I went to college. It’s been nice seeing her again.”

“What did you study?” He asked curiously. The small talk didn’t feel as painful as he had anticipated a blind date would be. She felt easy to talk to.

“Aeronautical Engineering.” She explained, “That’s why I moved here. Got a gig being a mechanic.”

Bob’s heart stopped slightly. She engineered planes- his first and greatest love. And that had to mean she was incredibly smart. Not that that surprised him. She held herself like she was.

“Wow. That’s- that’s awesome. We really owe you guys more appreciation. We get to fly cause you guys do all the math.” He said genuinely.

“I like you, Bob. You don’t gotta say all that.” She joked.

His face blushed harder, and his eyes widened. “No! No- I really mean it. It’s true. I couldn’t do what you do.”

She laughed at his nervousness and leaned forward to push his shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” She took another sip of her water and put her elbows on the table. “So, Bob, what do you like to do, other than boss Phoenix around?”

He looked down at his hands with a tight chuckle. He knew he should tell the truth. There would be no point in lying and acting like he was much cooler than he was. The conversation was going so well so far… but he felt like he could screw it up here. He didn’t hit the gym or go partying on the weekends. He spent most of his time alone.

“Well, uh- I come here every Friday with the squadron and that’s pretty fun.” He started to clarify that he wasn’t a complete loner, “I hike sometimes. But honestly, I play a lot of video games. Like… a lot of video games.” 

It didn’t feel like a special answer. He didn’t feel interesting in any sense of the word. But he watched as her eyes brightened.

“What games?” She jumped to ask.

“Oh uh-” He couldn’t help his stammering, “I collect a lot of retro stuff. Mostly games for the Atari. Pac-Man, Galaga, that sorta thing. But I also play the usual Call of Duty, Battlefield, Counter Strike…” He felt like he was talking too much. Well, it was more than what he’d usually say on a Friday night with the squadron, at least.

“Oh goodness, I’m so bad at FPSs.” She giggled, shaking her head, “But that’s so cool that you collect all that!” 

What. He swallowed and tilted his head, almost confused. She found that… cool? 

She continued. “There was one summer where I spent every weekend trying to get myself on the scoreboard of the Frogger machine at the movie theater. Phoenix wanted to kill me.” She chuckled.

“Did you?” 

“Third place. Still pisses me off that I couldn’t get higher.” She said lightheartedly.

“We’ll have to play it on mine sometime so you can beat my score.” The words had slipped out so easily. An implication that he wanted to see her again. He blinked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

But instead of seeming weirded out, she nodded excitedly. “Yes! That’d be so fun.”

Bob smiled and let out a relieved sigh. This was going so much better than he assumed it would. By this point, he figured he’d screw it all up. He cleared his throat. 

“What do you like to do besides fixing planes?” 

She blushed and looked down at her drink. “It’s a bit embarrassing.” 

“I just told you I spent my weekends playing Pac-Man.” 

With a small laugh, she shrugged.

“Well, I’m a bit of a nerd. I collect comics and love superhero movies. I could talk your ear off about them. Also… god this is so dorky.” She started with a bashful smile, “I like playing D&D. So sometimes when there’s a campaign going on, I’ll spend my Saturday night doing that.” 

“Like dungeons and dragons?” Bob asked 

She nodded. “I know it’s totally nerdy, but it’s so much fun. Have you played?”

He blinked hard and shook his head with a smile. “No, but I’d like to.”

She just… completely and utterly out-nerded him. He looked over at Phoenix at the bar, who nodded at him like ‘I told you so’. This felt too perfect. Too good to be true. 

Forty-five minutes later, they were both laughing in the booth. Bob didn’t want to say that he was surprised by how funny she was. But he didn’t expect to be laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. She was just so unapologetically herself, and that came with witty phrasing and side jokes that punched hard. After their laughter subsided, he looked at her, and it just slipped out:

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

He didn’t want the date to end with just some colas at Hard Deck. 

“I’d love to.” She smiled, “Haven’t gotten to see the beach much.” 

He nodded and stood up from the table. After he gestured for her to go first, she walked toward the door. They both noticed the raised brow and glare that Phoenix sent their way.

“We’re going for a walk!” Y/n waved excitedly at her.

Phoenix smiled at that, seeming relieved that she wasn’t going home with him. Bob would never. He knew that taking a girl home on the first date was pretty normal these days, and he didn’t judge anybody who did. But his mother raised him to never do that. She’d probably kill him if he ever did. Knowing her, he didn’t want to test that.

“Have fun. I’m heading home.” Phoenix said as she signed her bar tab. “I’m trusting her with you, Floyd. If you do anything stupid, remember who’s controlling the jet you’re in tomorrow.” 

Bob swallowed and nodded. He wouldn’t dare. But also the threat of Phoenix doing everything in her power to make him vomit in his lap was a genuine one.

“You got it.”

Then they walked out the door.

The night beach breeze hit, and her hair swayed softly. Lit by the warm lights pouring from inside the bar, she looked gorgeous in the night time. He wished that he could photograph her. The light hit her perfectly, and the shadows enhanced her features. His confidence felt strengthened from the success of the earlier conversation/

“You look really pretty tonight.” He choked out. “I-I should’ve said it earlier, but I was so nervous. Still so.”

She froze, looking up at him with an almost shocked expression.

“Thank you.” She said, and for the first time that night, she was the one blushing and not him. It felt good to make her suddenly shy. It reassured him that… maybe she could like him too.

Looking down at the ground, she suddenly reached out her hand. Bob looked at it and his head picked up with a small inhale. Quickly, he wiped his hands on his slacks, hoping they weren’t too sweaty. He walked forward and took her hand in his. His hand dwarfed hers just ever so slightly.

Fingers intertwined, they walked towards the beach. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of every function in his body. How sweaty his hands were. How his heart was thrumming in his chest. How his breath kept getting stuck in his lungs. And he was also very well aware of how her hand felt in his. There were small callouses that matched his- no doubt both from their lines of work.

When they reached the sand, he stepped forward in his dress shoes. But when Y/n stepped forward, her heels sank into the sand with a little ‘Oh!’ She wobbled unsteadily, and Bob quickly grabbed onto her waist to steady her. After she gained her balance again, she looked up at him. His arm was wrapped around her, and they both took in each other’s shocked faces. Until she started to laugh, and he joined softly with her.

“We can stick to the sidewalk.” He said, “I don’t wanna get your nice shoes all sandy.”

He gently moved them back to the sidewalk. She giggled and kicked her feet, letting sand pour out from her shoes.

“It’s a little too late for that.” 

His eyes widened, looking down at her red heels that were now covered in an opaque sheen of dust. “I’m sorry-”

“No, no! It wasn’t your fault.” She laughed, “Come on, I’ve barely seen the beach yet.”

The starry night sky blanketed them as they started walking again, hand in hand. He tried to look around and not stare holes into her, but he also wanted little glimpses of her every now and then. The soothing rush of the ocean waves nearby hushed over them. The night was peaceful as they were the only two people on the beach. It felt like they could be the only two people in the world.

“Some weekends, the squadron all comes here, and we’ll spend the whole day just playing football.” Bob said softly, “Phoenix is really good.”

“That sounds so fun.” She said, “There aren’t exactly beaches back in Alabama. So it’s strange to be so close. Like on the drive to work, the ocean is just there.”

“It’s nice. It’s really nice.” 

There was a gentle silence, and Bob wanted to keep talking, but then he couldn’t figure out how to continue the conversation. Luckily, the tension didn’t feel awkward. It just felt… different. 

They walked near one of the small cliffs, and she looked to him with a thrilling look in her eyes. “Wanna go up?” 

Bob nodded, “I think there are stairs. ” 

Making their way around the other side, sure enough, there were wooden stairs embedded into the side of the small mountain. She climbed up first, and Bob drifted his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t looking up her dress. 

Once they got to the top, the breeze was slightly stronger. And she turned back to face him as he made his way up, her hair blowing with a small smile. After a brief heart attack for Bob, she looked away and looked out to the ocean. 

“It’s so pretty.”

He nodded and joined her at her side. “You should see it in the day. Or even better, in a jet. It’s great. You can see the whole stretch of beach, and the ocean goes so far back. It’s insane.”

She smiled. “Is it fun? Being able to fly?”

“Wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t.” He answered with his hands in his back pockets, taking in the view. “Though there’s the downsides. Like possibly dying.”

“You better not.” She lightly threatened with a raised brow. “I’d like another date.”

Bob’s head whipped over to look at her. Sure, he had mentioned playing Frogger earlier, but now she was initiating the idea of another date. 

She giggled at his reaction and shook her head as she looked back out at the view.

“What? Are you surprised? Didn’t think this date was going badly… but if you think so-” She teased 

“NO!” He practically leaped forward to hold her hand again. “No.” 

She laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully again. “You’re cute.”

“I think this date is going great. Better than I thought. NOT THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE BAD JUST-” Bob stammered. 

Her little teases had him completely flustered and off his game. And with her looking at him expectantly with a raised brow, he couldn’t help the nervous laughter that escaped him. 

“I was scared that I was gonna mess everything up. If I’m not doing that right now.” He explained.

She took his hand and moved it to her waist, stepping closer. 

“You’re doing just fine.” She reassured, looking up at him and putting her arms on his shoulders. “You should know that…” She leaned into his ear, “I was nervous, too.”

“No way.” He scoffed, naturally wrapping his arms around her waist now.

She nodded. “Uh huh! Phoenix showed me your photo, and I thought you were so cute.”

He looked away, unbelieving. A perfect girl like her being nervous around… Bob Floyd? That felt simply impossible. But when he turned back to face her, she was looking up at him in a way that was almost… antsy. She took a deep breath, and her eyes had an anxious glint in them. 

Her hair blew in her face, but before she could fix it herself, Bob took his hand off her waist and gently brushed her hair behind her ear. Now he could properly see her pretty face, and he didn’t want to stop.

“Phoenix didn’t even show me a photo…” He admitted, “I think she thought that if I saw how… beautiful you are, I’d be too scared to do this.” 

“Still scared?” She asked, coming a little closer.

He chuckled breathlessly, “Terrified.”

They both laughed, and it just happened naturally. Their faces leaned in closer to each other. She moved one of her hands from his neck to cup his cheek and pressed her lips to his. He sighed, completely relieved. It felt like if he didn’t keep himself in check, his legs would give out. He deeply inhaled her vanilla perfume, and she tasted like the Coca-Cola from earlier. The kiss deepened, and he pulled her as close as he could without completely squeezing her. When he felt her nails travel up the back of his head, he was done for. 

She pulled back softly, and he looked down at her. 

“Jesus Christ-” He murmured breathlessly.

Now that made her laugh. She leaned in again, and right before his lips, she said 

“You’re telling me.”

They kissed again, and Bob wished he could do this forever. 

They stayed out much later than they should’ve. Just walking, looking at the beach, talking, and of course, kissing each other every chance they got. A little past midnight, Bob walked her to her car. A small white sedan that was still parked at The Hard Deck.

“You okay to drive? It’s late.” He offered, standing by her door.

She nodded. “I’ll be okay. I know you gotta get up soon.” 

There was a small silence, then she added.

“I’d love to do this again.” She said softly. A tilt of hope in her voice.

Bob smiled. “Me too… Phoenix gave me your number. We can schedule a day to play Frogger.” He had never found it so easy to talk to someone before.

“That’d be great. I’ll see you then.” She said.

He opened the driver's door for her, and that brought a smile to her face. She walked up to him and kissed his cheek before getting in.

Smack happy, he shut the door for her and waved her goodbye. As she drove off, he slowly trailed his way to his truck. He flipped the keys in his hand with a goofy smile on his face. It was like a high he’d never experienced before. The most beautiful, smart, and fun girl he’d ever met… wanted to do this again sometime. 

He couldn’t help but punch the air with a dorky ‘Yes!’ once her car disappeared. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket to see a notification from Phoenix.

PHOENIX: So how’d it go?

Unlocking his truck, he texted back.

BOB: Holy. Shit. I owe you for life.

PHOENIX: I told you, dumbass. 

Once he got in the truck and shut the door, he opened his phone again. He found the number that Phoenix had sent him earlier and sent a text.

BOB: This is Bob Floyd- Text me when you get home safe. Had a great time tonight.

He was practically vibrating in his seat as he turned his phone off and started to drive home. His thigh bounced in his seat again. But instead of anxiety, it was out of sheer adrenaline. 

His phone burned in his pocket. But he’d later see the message

Y/N: Home safe. Thanks for the best date I’ve ever been on.

And he’d be too wired to go to sleep. 

[yan-randomfandom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if you could do yandere saja boys x reader where the reader hangs out with a guy and they get very jealous

Yandere!Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; the day im satisfied with writing a yan!saja boys and/or yan!huntrix one shot is the day i'll retire because this is still lacking 💔

warnings; uncomfortable, stalking, possessive behavior, more spotlight on Abby! no Jinu here, sry!

— 🌇

That's weird.

You're not anywhere in your house. You haven't responded to their messages yet.

"Think they finally had enough of us?" Baby mutters, looking through your snack drawer—nothing of interest—before closing it harsher than intended. The loud bang echoes in the empty kitchen.

Abby narrows his eyes as he looks through the window. The sun is going to set soon. "That can't be right. Maybe they went to buy something."

"Without telling us?" Mystery growls, his fingers fidgeting together. Well, it's not like you need to tell them every action you'll do. He's not even sure himself why he's so irritated.

After all, they were already planning to take your soul after the whole thing is over. But now that he's thinking of it again, the idea doesn't feel so good anymore...

The front door suddenly squeals open. All of them turn, expecting you, but instead meet Romance's face.

"Don't look so disappointed," Romance scoffs with an eyebrow raise. "I found the human. Come on."

— 🫧

First, they felt relief, then anger, then sadness, then nothing.

They found you alone, as Romance said you were, but then you started laughing. Your gentle laughter stopped them from getting any closer. A smile curls on your lips as your eyes consistently follow something.

"What?" Romance mutters, confusion scrunching his face. They can't see well from this angle—but they can't move either without being seen.

"I told you it's slippery," you snicker, walking over and extending your hand. Ah. So you weren't alone. "Come on. I'll help you up, I guess."

"Thanks," a voice replies, matching your energy, causing all of the boys to glance at each other. They watch as a hand takes yours. "I guess."

The person gets up—a man. Not a demon, but a human. Standing too close to you and still holding your hand. Or maybe it was just a normal distance, and time felt like forever watching you touch that thing—but, oh, Gwi-Ma. They feel like boiling their human forms.

You finally let go of him, using your hand to fish your phone out of your pocket. A frown snakes across your lips after a while. "Oh, no."

"Oh no?" your friend asks, tilting his head. "Is something wrong?"

You begin chewing your bottom lip, looking around. "No, uh, not really. But I have to go now. Nice catching up with you, man!"

"Aw, really?" he says, glancing at his phone. "Oh. It is pretty late. Isn't your apartment like right over there? I can—"

"There you are!"

You and your friend turn your heads, both of your eyes widening for entirely different reasons.

Abby approaches you with a charming smile, settling an arm over your shoulders. He hums as he takes a good, innocent look at your companion. "Who's this?"

"Saja— Abs—Abby? From Saja Boys?! Uh, I mean— Hi! So nice to meet you!" An unexpected blush blooms over your friend's face. He glances at you with nervousness and fascination before bowing his head.

Your friend shows off a crooked grin. He's a big fan already; he told you moments ago how he had Soda Pop on loop. You huff and remove Abby's arm from your shoulder, barely able to hold your flinch at the way he looked offended.

You gaze at Abby in anticipation.

Abby immediately gets the hint and masks himself. "Oh, a fan! Thank you for your support!"

They took a picture, Abby did his autograph, all the while giving him fanservice with his abs. Your friend giggles cheerfully as they shake their hands goodbye. You didn't miss the way Abby wiped his hand on his shirt when your friend wasn't looking.

"Take care!" you call to him, waving a hand before turning to a blank-faced Abby.

He stares at you humorlessly.

You blink, avoiding his eyes. "Uh, hey. Sorry about... not replying. I ran out of—"

Abby chuckles, smiles like he wasn't just judging your entire being, and shakes his head. He returns to draping his arm around your shoulder protectively. "No need to explain. We're glad you're safe. Let's go home."

Your brows furrow as Abby guides your walk. We're? We?

It's an obvious thing that once a member is involved, all of them are. Just... where are the others? Abby is the only one here.

You stray your eyes, landing on a window.

In the dim reflection, three pairs of glowing, golden eyes point at you in the distance. Ah. There they are. Watching, waiting.

Ugh. You look away. Jinu's never this level of creepy. He's not present again, as always.

You don't notice Abby nodding his head curtly next to you.

— need .. need to include more horrors..... ngl I'm stuck between funny or horrific yan!saja boys ,,

— also if you're wondering why Jinu isn't here, I just prefer not to include him in general! yeah my bad, in my other fics he's just kinda hanging around

— why's it so hard for me to write yandere (says the yandere blog)

[paucubarsisimp]

forza ferrari

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: in which you decide to get back at lando by wearing a ferrari hoodie

warnings: none! lando being a drama queen?

a/n: this was requested on my wattpad!

you weren’t exactly proud of the ferrari hoodie. but you also weren’t not proud of it. after the fight with lando last night — the stupid, too-loud, too-late fight that ended with both of you turning your backs in bed like teenagers — you needed a little petty revenge.

so. you pulled out the ferrari hoodie he once told you he “didn’t trust” when you bought it as a joke, and you wore it. to the race. in public. where he could see it.

it was childish. dramatic. possibly career-ending.

perfect.

you weren’t even in the paddock for five minutes before you saw him — and he saw you.

lando froze mid-conversation with a poor, innocent engineer, his eyes locking onto the red like it physically pained him. his hand dropped, his jaw followed. and then—

“what the f—” he started walking. fast.

you smiled. sweet. innocent. sipped your iced coffee.

“you’re wearing that?” he said when he reached you, already reaching for the hoodie drawstrings like he might tear it off your body himself.

“good morning to you too,” you said.

lando blinked, his voice a whisper-shriek. “you wore a ferrari hoodie? here? to my race? are you—are you actually trying to kill me?”

“what, this?” you looked down, feigning surprise. “it was the only thing clean.”

“you own eleven of my hoodies.”

“yeah, but none of yours say ‘drives for a competent team’ on the front.”

he physically staggered.

“that’s it,” he said, dramatically, “we’re done. over. this is a betrayal. you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

you snorted. “you don’t have a lawyer.”

“well i do now. and they’ll be filing a lawsuit for emotional damage.”

“how about you just admit you were wrong last night?”

lando groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “i was wrong, okay? i was a dick. and now my punishment is this.” he gestured at your hoodie like it had personally offended his ancestors.

“and what do we learn from this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he sighed, head tipping back like the heavens might give him strength. “never go to bed mad at someone who owns other teams’ merch.”

“very good,” you nodded.

he stepped closer, eyes softening, fingers tugging gently at the sleeves of the hoodie now. “can you… take it off? please? before someone takes a picture and i get disowned by the team?”

you smirked. “maybe. if you win today.”

lando groaned. “you drive a hard bargain.”

“well,” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “don’t crash and we’ll talk.”

bonus

he didn’t win. but he did nearly rip the hoodie off you backstage and stuff you into his own papaya one instead.

“you’re mine again,” he muttered, zipping it up dramatically like a rom-com character. “peace has been restored.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you said, smiling into his chest.

“and you’re the worst,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “never do that to me again.”

you didn’t make any promises.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout , @linnygirl09, @spidybaby, @dessashippr lmk if you want to be added!

[batsandbirdbrains]

A thought before I go to bed: Dick Grayson being the test child for essentially every single JL member would do unrepairable psychic & emotional damage. It’s not anything obvious, it’s not anything outright.

But he was their test pancake. The one you put on the griddle to test that the temperature is right and the batter is the way you want it. He turned out a funny shape, burned on one side, and lost half himself before he fully grew up.

And every other child that comes into their lives, every other sidekick after him benefits from his suffering. He’s the one they had to push to the limits to be able to find out what boundaries they should be setting. He’s the one who broke a leg because an adult hero tossed (threw him like a sack of potatoes) way too hard for him to make a landing. He’s the one who got a concussion during training because an adult knocked him down too hard.

He’s the one who got shot by a rogue and then yelled at for it, who got fired (even if it was taken back, even if Bruce swears he was just trying to protect him), he’s the one who got kicked out when he was still a kid. It doesn’t matter that Bruce let him back in. To this day, he hasn’t told Bruce what happened during the four months he spent away from the manor. He doesn’t tell him how he had to play apprentice to Deathstroke the Terminator. He doesn’t tell anyone what he had to do to escape.

He’s the one they forgot on special occasions the first time and then after that made sure to never forget a kid’s special day they were invited to ever again.

One person showed up to Dick Grayson’s high school graduation. He was salutatorian and graduating a year early. Alfred Pennyworth was the only one there, watching, clapping for him, taking photographs, congratulating him. Took him out to dinner to celebrate then had to watch as Dick cried over a bowl of pasta he didn’t even end up eating.

Everyone else either forgot or put the mission first. Dick never forgives any of them. He never forgets it. He may not bring it up, he may not hold it over their heads, but he’ll never forget how alone and worthless he felt when he looked out into the crowd as he was giving his speech and he saw an entire section of empty chairs with Alfred sitting on the end.

He listens to their excuses and their apologies. But then he sees every other kid after him have a whole section of heroes cheering them on when they get their diplomas, and Dick can’t help but feel bitter about it.

And it sucks, because on one hand, he’s so glad these actual adults aren’t fucking up other kids like how they fucked up him. But on the other hand, why couldn’t they have just been there for him? Why couldn’t they have gotten their shit together for him? Why is was it always him?

Anyway nighty night perhaps I’ll expand upon this thought process tomorrow

[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!

[cherrygirlfriend]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT? ✮

✮ pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

✮ summary: agreeing to go to a party with you and meeting your friends for the first time causes rafe to have insecurities and doubts.

✮ warnings / tags: angst. fluff. hurt and comfort. punching someone. insecurity. nudity. them being ridiculously perfect for each other. wc: 2k

✮ author's note: what’s been up with me making these two suffer lately… tbh i just wanna deepen their emotional bond!! but dw i have freaky smut coming up for them soon!!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ✮ 5K MASTERLIST

people say that opposites attract, and that saying was a fact when it came to you and your boyfriend. you and rafe were like day and night; all the bouncers at all the clubs and bars within a five-mile radius of your university campus knew you by name, meanwhile every professor on campus knew your boyfriend by his name, all of them delighted whenever they found out they got to teach him. sometimes, a single outfit of yours had less fabric than one piece of rafe's outfit. rafe did more studying in one weekend than you did in a month. he was a virgin when you started dating, and you were... experienced.

and your boyfriend was definitely not a party animal.

"c'mon..." you coaxed, "i can't go alone. besides, i want you to meet my friends!" you whined, "your friends are gonna hate me." rafe deadpanned, his brows raised. "no they won't. so what if you're different from them? i'm sure you can find something to talk to them about." "like what? shoes and purses?" "like how much you adore me." your lips quirked up into a grin and you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, "pleaaase?"

honestly, rafe's assumption wasn't that far from the truth; when you'd first told your friends that you were dating him, they all looked at you like you'd grown a second head. but it never mattered to you; you adores rafe, and even though you two sometimes got strange looks from people and your friends got weird whenever you mentioned him, it never bothered you.

"pleaseeee?" you stuck out your bottom lip, doing your best to put on a 'sad puppy dog' look. "fine." rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face, "only because you're cute."

"this is gonna earn you a reward..." you giggled, biting down on your lower lip and running your manicured finger down rafe's chest, the suggestive tone of your voice and the feel of your long nail against his muscles through his shirt causing his own voice to go hoarse, "i didn't... didn't even ask for that." "don't care." you give rafe a quick peck, "good boys get rewarded."

you'd told rafe that it'd take you around an hour to get ready, but the two of you had finally gotten to the frat house nearly three hours after you'd told rafe it'd take you an hour, but you'd just mumbled, "fashionably late..." into his ear.

but once you got to the frat house the party was being held at, you got past with ease... but the random dude at the fraternity door who acted as the bouncer looked at your boyfriend up and down and let out a disgusted 'eugh', making rafe look down at the ground, his cheeks starting to redden as he switched from one foot to the other, the other boy letting out a belittling chuckle, "sorry, but you're gonna have to ditch him."

you could see your boyfriend's face fall and him starting to step back, only for you to pull rafe back to you and looking at the boy standing at the door with the bitchiest smile you could muster up.

"he's my boyfriend." you said as calmly as you possibly could, even though you truly wanted to punch the living hell out of that dude, "and if you don't want him inside, it's gonna take me about two minutes to get every girl at your shitty ass party out." you smiled widely, "so, if you want a sausage party, then go ahead."

the boy's gaze went over rafe once again, a small groan leaving his lips. "alright, go in…" the faux-bouncer mumbled, and your smile widened as the boy stepped aside, making sure to bump into his side as you passed him.

"you didn't have to do that… i could've just gone back to the dorms." rafe leaned closer to you so you could hear him through the blaring music, only for you to take his hand in yours and squeezing it, "please. like i'd let someone get away with talking to you like that." you smiled up at him, "should we go find my friends?" rafe took in a deep breath before turning to you with a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

rafe felt out of place. when you'd introduced him to your friends with a cheerful, "this is my boyfriend, rafe." and brought his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss on the back of his hand that left a glossy imprint there.

after your friends had awkwardly introduced themselves to rafe, looking at him up and down the same way the guy outside had, they went back to how they'd been before; chattering about something had no understanding of, with you joining in while your friends acted like he wasn't there.

lately, he'd been noticing all the ways you were different in. you went out nearly every weekend while rafe stayed in his dormitory either studying, reading, or gaming. you felt so confident you brightened up every room you walked into, meanwhile he felt like he was nothing but a dark cloud that followed you around. you seemed to get along with everyone, being able to make a friend in almost any setting, meanwhile most of his friends were ones that he'd met online.

even now, with the two of you being surrounded by crowds of sweaty people pressed to one another, music blasting so loudly the floors sticky with spilled booze were shaking, you looked like there was nowhere you'd rather be; meanwhile rafe's flight instinct was kicking in.

he leaned close to your ear and quietly said, "hey, i'm gonna go to the bathroom." pulling back and trying to give you a convincing smile. "okay." you nodded, and when he freed his fingers from your own, you reluctantly let go of his hand, watching as he made his way through the crowd, a small frown on your lips.

rafe gripped the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white as he took tried to steady his breathing, his heart beating to the rhythm of the bass he could hear through the bathroom door. "get it together..." he mumbled under his breath. rafe took off his glasses and placed them down, turning the faucet on, splashing cold water on his face, wishing it could wash away all the thoughts plaguing his mind.

all the thoughts about how much happier you'd be with someone who you didn't have to beg to come out with you. all the thoughts about how much your friends would be more accepting of someone they thought was more suitable for you. all the thoughts about how he wasn't good enough for you. how he would never be good enough for you.

rafe was startled by someone beating their fist against the door, swiftly turning the faucet off and drying his face on a towel before turning to the mirror, "just be normal. just... be normal." he mumbled, putting his glasses back on.

the boy spotted you almost immediately as he was making hi way through the crowd, recognizing the outfit you'd spent too much time choosing, but it seemed like you hadn't spotted him. rafe's brows furrowed as he got closer to you, a dark-haired guy leaning close to you, a cup in his hand, his other hand on your arm, your jaw clenched.

"c'mon. we had fun last time, didn't we?" rafe overheard the guy say, almost as if he was boasting, deciding to stop a small distance away to see how the situation would play out. "let's just ditch the party and go to my room."

"that was ages ago. i have a boyfriend, thomas." "so?" the boy laughed, "your little einstein doesn't need to know. everyone knows you're just dating him so you can better your grades." "you think i'm that big of an idiot that i need to date someone to get better grades?" you scoffed, shaking your head, "then, what's it for? you pity him because he has like three friends?"

"i know this concept might be strange for you, but some people actually like others because of who they are and not just because of their bodies." you remarked,

"well, you weren't like that before." thomas rolled his eyes while you narrowed your eyes, "what do you mean by that?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "i mean, you used to fuck anything that moved, fucking slut. now you're just with some nothing loser who probably doesn't know how to fuck." thomas laughed, rafe's jaw clenching, intending to interrupt until—

THUMP!

your fist made contact with thomas's face, the drunk boy falling to the ground as you took in a sharp breath, shaking your hand with an 'ouch'. "just so you know," you look down at him, your words coming out slightly clumsily, "he's better than you. and bigger. take that." you turned to walk away from thomas, but when you noticed rafe standing there with a stunned expression on his face, you froze, looking like a deer in headlights. "rafe."

but rafe simply chuckled, taking the hand that hadn't just greeted thomas, pulling you through the crowd, hurrying you outside.

you were breathing heavily, goosebumps forming on your skin from going from the hot, packed party to the chilly outside air, looking up at rafe, "rafe, i can explain, i know i shouldn't—"

but you were silenced by rafe leaning down, pressing his lips on yours, his large hands going to cup your cheeks, and as his lips moved on yours, he hoped it conveyed everything he thought, everything he worried about, and everything you somehow managed to make him feel.

when rafe pulled away, he tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, his thumb going to stroke the soft skin of your cheek. "weirdly, that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." rafe looked down, gently taking the hand that you'd punched thomas with as a hiss left your lips, the boy noticing some bruising on your knuckles, a few of them even bleeding, "let's get back to my dorm and fix this up, yeah?"

every time the antiseptic made contact with one of the cuts on your knuckles, you let out a quiet hiss, each of them sounding unfairly adorable to rafe.

"this is the cost of punching dickheads." he jokingly mumbled, "well, i had to protect your honor." you shrugged, making rafe furrow his brows as he applied lotion onto the cuts, "my honor?" "he called you a nothing loser. i'm not gonna let that slide."

"i thought you punched him because he called you... that." "oh, no. i've heard it many times. if they wanna shame me for liking sex then they can go ahead and do that. but i'm not gonna let them say something like that about you."

your words made rafe's lips quirk up a little, "so, are you my knight in shining armor?" "only if it's one of those ridiculously skimpy armors they give to female characters in games." you grinned, rafe shaking his head. once your boyfriend had applied band-aids onto your knuckles, he pressed a kiss on each of them.

it wasn't long until the two of you were under rafe's blanket, your naked bodies pressed together, rafe holding the hand he'd patched up, "you know, sometimes i worry that i'm not good enough for you." he mumbled, "why would you think that?" "i'm... i'm not like guys you've been with before. i'm not into parties, i'm not cool and confident..." "you're also not a total dickhead." "yeah, that." rafe chuckled softly, "i don't know. what if you were happier with someone more like you?"

"the thing is... i think you are like me, rafe." "how's that? we're... so different." "yeah, we have different interests, we have different personalities..." you bring your hand to rest over his heart, "but when i'm with you... i feel connected to you in a way i haven't before. like we're one."

"that's weirdly poetic." rafe chuckled softly, "i think you're secretly a sap." "shut up." you rolled your eyes, "but i know what you mean. like we're two sides of the same coin."

"yeah. and for me, that's better than anything or anyone else. i don't care if i could have the world's most perfect person. because they'll never measure up to you. i wouldn't want to love anyone else but you."

rafe smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead, "no one else." he whispered, pressing a kiss there.

taglist: @raahosh @nemesyaaa @purpleplumpudding @littlelamy @dollyfiles @esotericcangel @mattyskies @bakugouswaif @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @tinythebunni @fratbrochrisgf @ariieeesworld @silkylovey @izumis-salty-penis @flow33didontsmoke @cameronsbabydoll @love-ella333 @haylorbestie @k4yr14 @harringtonsbowgirl @lacelottie @st8rkey @lunaleah @cicicavill7 @lillied31 @doremimosasol @lerclec @deeninadream @digitaldiary111 @constantsadness cont. in com.

click here to join the taglist! 🐆

[yasministration]

be my baby - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au summary: another night at the potter household reveals that you love one of harry's least favourite songs, and his dad's all time favourite. wc: 1k+ cw: kissing, so much fluff, highly recommend pressing on the link in bold when you get to that point!

The night surrounding you is calm, despite the bustling energy in the Potters’s backyard. There’s an old tune playing in the background that Harry’s dad and his friends sing to, freely being dorks, his mother sat on the patio sofa with her own friends around her. It’s nice getting to know Harry’s extended family, you think. You had no idea he and Neville grew up so close to each other, but the shy boy’s parents fit so well in the Potters’s little bubble.

Neville is busy tonight, Alice had told Harry with a glint in her eyes. A date, but I’m sure you already knew.

Harry had shrugged his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant for Neville’s sake, but you had nodded excitedly, having heard all about it from Luna herself. “They’re gonna get married, Mrs. Longbottom, I already know.” And somehow the Longbottoms immediately loved you.

When you and Harry disappeared from their sight, Harry tugging you away from the adults, they had both raised their eyebrows at Lily and James, commenting their own approval of their son’s girlfriend. Now, Frank is busy James, Sirius and Marlene, singing along to the music while throwing a quaffle around as they zoom around on their brooms in the backyard. Lily, Alice, Remus and Mary enjoy a conversation filled with laughs, eyes trained on their partners in the air.

However, Lily occasionally glances down to ensure you and Harry are okay. You’ve hidden away from them, sitting near the lake. Harry’s back is leaning against the thick trunk of a tree, one leg folded up whilst the other rests on the grassy floor. You sit between his legs, back to his chest, and Harry plays with your hair, the laughter around you being the only sound between you.

Harry’s free hand rests against his leg, fingers intertwined with yours. He sighs happily, wondering only for a moment what’s going through your head. But then suddenly, as the music changes and the familiar melody of his dad’s favourite jazz song comes up, you jerk away from him, your head snapping back towards the house.

Harry grimaces “Sorry. My dad’s music-” “I love this song!” Harry blinks rapidly, not expecting the wide grin that overtakes your features, your loud exclamation taking him aback. You scramble upwards, hauling him up with you by the hand still tangled with his. Neither of you notice the way James Potter lands on the ground, abandoning his broom to tug his wife into his arms, dramatically singing the lyrics out loud to her, as though he was falling in love all over again.

So won’t you please? Be my, be my baby?

You giggle as Harry’s arms loop around your waist, a boyish smile on his face. You cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his once before pulling away, stroking his cheeks as you sing along to the words. “I’ll make you happy baby, just wait and see!”

Harry swallowed thickly, eyes dipping to your lips. He always used to groan when the song came up, looking away from his parents as his dad twirled Lily into his arms, singing lovingly at her. But as you serenaded him, Harry decided he loved this song. Maybe it wasn’t so bad when the lyrics were aimed at him.

“For every kiss you give me, I’ll give you-” You were cut off by the press of Harry’s lips against yours, the kiss broken by your joyful giggles. Harry grins, forehead resting against yours as the song continues blaring in the background. He is acutely aware of his dad’s voice in the background, and he doesn’t doubt that James is holding Lily in his arms. But Harry cannot physically care less when you are pushing him back against the trunk, your hands laid flat on his chest as you capture his lips with yours again.

His fingers curl around the curve of your hips, tugging your body closer to his. Harry is sure you can feel his racing heartbeat beneath the palm of your hand as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

From across the backyard, Lily Potter’s back is pulled towards her husband’s chest, and the pair sways slowly with wide smiles on their faces. “I’m glad someone else appreciates my taste in music.” James whispers against his wife’s temple. Lily laughs, mumbling “Did you see what she did?”

“What, you mean only make our son actually enjoy the song he has complained about for eighteen years? Yes, I saw, honey.”

“She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, love, I think she is.”

You break the kiss, Harry’s lips parting from yours with a loud squelch, and you can see the redness tinting his cheeks in the soft moonlight. You shriek as Harry’s fingers run up your sides with a gentle squeeze to tickle you, laughing softly as you squirm in his hold. Your boyfriend chuckles, pulling you into his body. You sigh happily, resting your head on his chest as you loosely hold him, hands on his back to hug him back.

“So, would you be my baby? Forever?” Harry finally asks in a whisper, voice suddenly shy. Lifting your head off his shoulder, you feel your lips tug up into a smile. You are so inexplicably happy. “Yeah. I’ll be your baby forever. Only if you’ll be mine too.” Harry’s chest bubbles with a joyful laugh and he digs his face in the crook of your neck, hiding his flushed cheeks from you.

A gust of wind has a shiver running down your spine, and Harry pulls away from the hug to wordlessly tug his jumper off. You don’t have time to deny his jumper before he’s forcing it over your head and guiding your arms into the sleeves. So instead, you just smile, letting him steer you into the position you were previously in, back against his chest as you curl up on the floor.

Your voice cuts into the comfortable silence once more, smiling to yourself as you asked “Does that mean we’re gonna get married then?”

“Uh, yeah. Thought we already confirmed that.”

taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy, @liviessun, @rory-cakes, @heebiemcjeebies, @fl0weryannie, @muffinemmaa, @anne061989, @regsg18, @graciereads, @adharaoaklyn, @hawaii2320, @c0ldstvff, @bigbodycity, @starmaniii, @urmom101, @simpfortoomanymen, @ennaholic, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @eunicefrogsandfoes, @dreamamubarak, @quinquinquincy, @vxyselectric, @liliemb04, @crowleythesexydemon, @lovelyygirl8, @matcha-kitty13, @dlljdhsh, @yegrnn, @marauder-era6779, @xadenswhore, @5sospenguinqueen, @esposadomd, @paytonluvxx, @wrenisrad, @lovelyteenagebeard, @mxvoid26, @bxuzi, @dlljdhsh, @aouoo, @isnt-itstrange @fandomhoe101

[sinsxo]

voiceover chaos. —blue lock

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro.

synopsis. makeup grwm but your boyfriend does the voiceover (poorly).

cw. drabble, fluff, lighthearted fic.

wc. 0.8k words, not proofread.

isagi yoichi ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“hi everyone— oh we’re already starting? okay.” he immediately locks in, hyper-focused, like it’s a soccer match. the only problem? he has no idea what you’re putting on your face.

“um, this is foundation, right? okay, so she’s starting with foundation— oh, wait no, this is foundation.”

wrong. it was primer and concealer, but close enough.

“huh? isn’t this foundation too?” he’s genuinely confused. “ahem, so she applied three layers of foundation and now she’s applying uhh... what’s this? a tan stick?”

contour. it was contour.

“and now she’s blending it out with a brush,” he says, trying to sound confident. “okay, another stick? oh, it’s the nose thing. now she’s... drawing shadows... on her nose?”

“another stick?? this one’s shiny. now she has sparkles on her nose,” he narrates, then mutters, “oh, wow that’s a lot, uh... s— slay!”

“okay, now she’s applying lipstick— woah, why does it look like that? is this lip gloss?” he leans in like the screen holds the answers.

“and now she’s peeling her lips off???”

“and she’s done?” he’s completely flustered. “gosh, i did so bad. anyway, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, even without all this.”

“aww, you’re so sweet yoichi,” you laugh. “can i do your makeup next time?”

“s— sure!” he laughs awkwardly, but he’s already mentally preparing to be your next canvas.

itoshi rin ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“why do i have to do this?” he asks flatly.

“for entertainment! now go,” you say as you press play.

he sighs, defeated.

“what the hell is that?” he frowns immediately and the video barely started. “she’s applying… some cream on her face.”

“okay, i bought her this one. i think it’s concealer. whatever that does,” he mutters, watching you blend it in. “i think it’s what she uses when she didn’t sleep enough — which is, like, every night. told her to sleep earlier but she never listens, so she wakes up looking like a panda.”

“rin! voiceover, don’t diss me!” you call out in the background.

“whatever— why are you moving so fast?” he’s clearly panicking now, squinting at the screen. “what the fuck is this???”

he gives up trying to follow, then regains composure.

“okay, now she’s drawing on some lips. even though i think she already has enough.”

“rin.”

“anyway— okay. nevermind. it’s over. she’s done,” he says, finally backing up from the screen. “beautiful like usual. perfect. don’t ask me to do this again.”

“can i do your makeup for the next video?”

“…no?”

itoshi sae ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

he looks like he’d rather be doing anything else. but he agrees to do the voiceover anyway — even if he’s still a menace.

“alright, so we’re starting with dior,” he says, casually. “bought her that one. it was like three thousand.”

“now we’re putting on… whatever this is. costed like two million,” he deadpans.

“babe, you’re supposed to describe what i’m doing.”

“i don’t know what you’re doing,” he replies, unimpressed. “i think this is blush. she looks like she’s blushing now.”

well, no shit.

“next, dior again. another million dollars gone. why is makeup so expensive anyway?”

“you’re exaggerating.”

“am not.” he squints. “okay… now we got this blue thing. for lips?”

a pause.

“and now we look like frozen, from elsa or something. she looks like she has hypothermia.”

you swear this man will be the death of you.

“okay… we wipe the blue thing off, then we spray some mist on our face. and look at that, all done,” he exhales like he just ran a marathon. “beautiful. her whole routine costs like four million dollars. no wonder she won’t let me touch her face.”

“it doesn’t cost that much, you’re being dramatic!”

“debatable.”

“also, can i do your make up for the next video?” you batted your eyelashes.

he didn’t flinch.

“again, debatable.”

nagi seishiro ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“this sounds like a hassle... but okay,” he yawns.

he’s clearly half-assing it at first, but by the end, he’s genuinely interested.

“mmm, she’s putting this, like... stuff... on her face.” he mumbles. “blendy, blendy. looks like she’s doing art.”

“and now she’s drawing on her eyes or something. she looks cute when she’s concentrating,” a pause, then he turns to look at you. “wait, how did you do that? your eyes look like a cat’s now. that’s cool.”

“and then lip gloss, now her lips are shiny. my favourite,” he mumbles. “i like kissing them. very soft. tastes good. wait, can i say that here?”

“anyway, she’s sparkly now,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “looks so pretty. like an angel. she always does.”

“okay, done. is there more?”

“didn’t you say it was a hassle?”

“yeah, but you looked good doing that,” he shrugs.

“want me to do your makeup next time?”

“if i can just sit there and do nothing, then yeah.”

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[rotapathetic]

✧ ྅ ˚ . ᯇ * reader beating TWITCH STREAMER!RAFE in mario kart : .

❝clip that❞ : bold text is stream chat! 💬

“alright, she’s in the other room, so we’re going to get started in a second. is your mic working?” rafe told the viewers, then asked you.

there was a moment of pause before your voice sounded, “i think so? you can hear me, right?” it was your first time using equipment like this and rafe helped just a second ago but you think you pressed something on accident.

user: no user: yeah!! we can user: give her a second guys she’s new to this user: my bet’s on her winning

“yeah, you’re good. now, just saying. . you know i really like you, but i don’t lose in kart.” rafe said, adjusting his headset, leaning back in the chair.

“yeah, alright. i’ve only played a few times so if i’m not great, don’t say anything.” you watched as rafe picked the map and speed.

user: you just drive car user: just joined can i get a recap

“uh, just got the new switch so we’re playing mario kart. my girl is in the other room but you can hear her mic. we didn’t start yet, though. alright, pick your character.”

you went for toad, the cute little guy, then randomly picked a kart and parasail. it didn’t matter to you the abilities, you just liked how they looked.

rafe picked baby mario then took a second to choose his kart.

user: why is he reading user: alright wrap it up user: wait is she here?

rafe finally picked his kart, responding to chat. “yeah she is, do you want to say hi, baby?”

“hi,” you said through your mic. rafe chuckled. “yeah, there’s your hi. okay, i’m starting it.”

the races went by, rafe more stunned by each round as you continued climbing up the score board. when the last race finished with you in first, you were shocked to silence at your own skills. rafe was silent, staring at his screen, hand poised over his mouth.

user: clip that user: thought you don’t lose 🙏 user: that’s so funny user: by your own girlfriend is crazy work

“i got inked that last round. .” rafe tried to defend himself.

user: just stop bro

“wait, i feel bad,” you giggled out. “do you want to go again?”

rafe shook his head, exiting to the menu screen. “nah, ’m proud of you. that was a good game. fun.”

“what is your chat saying? i hope they’re being encouraging.”

user: hahaha L user donated $5: here you go buddy feel better user: i can’t wait to watch this again in your vod user: and she doesn’t even have much experience

“m hm, yep. i mean, we can go again. not for like redemption, but just to play again.” rafe responded to your previous question. you nodded off camera, “yeah, let’s go again. winning feels good, i’ve never won before.”

user: buddy this hurts to watch user: that’s a devious line

“i have no problem muting chat,” rafe muttered, starting up another round.

user: oh so we get punished because you lost

[mooningningg]

notes, this was so fun to make especially adding more characters ty anon!

★ Roommate!Sukuna hosts a party in the house.

“This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had,” you said flatly, eyeing the crowd gathering in your once-peaceful living room.

Sukuna cracked open a beer and leaned against the kitchen counter like a menace with arms. “Shut up. My house. My rules.”

“Our house,” you corrected.

“My name’s on the lease.”

You opened your mouth — and then Gojo physically kicked open the front door.

“THE PARTY GOD HAS ARRIVED!”

You groaned. “I’m locking myself in my room.”

“No, you’re not.” Sukuna grabbed the back of your hoodie before you could escape. “You’re gonna stand here and make sure no one breaks shit. Especially not that one—”

“Choso?” you guessed.

“No. That thing behind him.”

You looked over and saw Yuuji sprinting through the hallway with a Nerf gun, followed by Megumi, who had the calm murderous energy of a cat ready to swipe at a toddler.

Toji appeared behind them holding a case of beer. “Your kids are feral.”

Sukuna threw up a middle finger. “They’re not my fucking kids.”

“They’re kinda your responsibility,” Geto said smoothly from the couch. “Since you’re the one who invited all of us and insisted on not hiring a DJ.”

“I am the DJ,” Sukuna said, walking to the speaker and violently pressing buttons until something bass-heavy and borderline unlistenable filled the room.

“Christ,” Nanami muttered from a corner. “This is not music. This is a hate crime.”

You leaned on the fridge and whispered, “I told him to make a playlist.”

“He made one,” Nanami said. “It’s all angry gym edits and songs titled ‘murder breakfast.’”

Meanwhile, Choso had discovered your cabinet of snacks and was handing out bags of chips like a stoned camp counselor. “You want spicy or sweet?” he asked you sweetly. “I sorted them by vibe.”

Sukuna walked by, narrowed his eyes, and muttered, “Stop touching my shit.”

“It’s her shit,” Choso replied without fear.

“Yeah, Sukuna,” you echoed smugly. “My kitchen.”

He turned to you with a scowl. “Don’t push me, brat.”

Just then, Nobara stomped into the kitchen holding an empty Solo cup.

“Why is there no alcohol left?” she demanded.

“Because Gojo made a jungle juice bucket in the fucking bathtub,” Toji said, cracking open a beer.

“...He what?”

“It’s got blue Gatorade, Everclear, Sprite, and six Warheads.”

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kill him.”

Gojo popped his head in like a cartoon ghost. “No murder before midnight! That’s the rule!”

“You’re the reason I have rules, you white-haired freak.”

Geto sauntered by with your Bluetooth speaker in hand. “Can I use this for my playlist? I promise it’s all R&B.”

“You touch it and I’ll cut your fingers off,” Sukuna replied calmly, sipping his beer.

“Jesus,” you said. “Why did you even invite them?”

“Because I was drunk,” Sukuna growled, glancing around the chaotic room. “And it was funny at the time.”

Someone suddenly crashed into a chair.

“I’M OKAY,” Yuuji shouted from the floor.

“I’M GONNA KILL HIM,” Sukuna shouted louder.

“You can’t kill him,” Megumi muttered from beside you, arms crossed. “He’s literally built like a golden retriever. You’d feel bad.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Bet.”

You grinned at the sight: your angry, cursed-energy-free roommate about three seconds away from strangling half the room while you just… stood there sipping punch out of a vase.

Then, as if summoned by chaos, Gojo slung an arm around your shoulders.

“So. On a scale of 1 to ‘my next therapy session,’ how’s living with Sukuna?”

You glanced at the walking red flag beside you — now trying to chase Yuuji with a spatula for sitting on his dumbbells.

“Somewhere between insanity and a sitcom,” you replied.

Sukuna stopped mid-step. “Why the fuck are you smiling?”

“Because this is the best decision you never made.”

His eye twitched. “I’m never doing this again.”

“Sure,” Geto called from the couch. “You say that now — until she asks you to host her birthday and you agree like a whipped little bitch.”

Sukuna whirled around. “Say that again, Suguru. I dare you.”

Geto smirked. “You heard me. Whipped. Soft. Domesticated.”

Sukuna lunged. Gojo dove into the hallway with a bottle of tequila. Megumi muttered something about going feral. Nobara lit a candle just because.

You stood in the middle of it all, grinning to yourself.

Yep.

Best party ever.

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh. @beaniesayshi @levifiance @rinofcike @fushiguroooozzz @gojoscumslut @bellsoftheball @kunascutie.

[akeaaan]

If Only...

Jinu X fem.Reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my fourth fanfic of jinu and I'm going crazy someone stop me please. Also I'm losing ideas so if you have any request please do drop a note. I still have another idea of angst until I make some soft happy endings lol

Synopsis:

╰┈➤ If Only...

It was never supposed to happen.

You weren't supposed to feel this. To hesitate.

But fate — cruel, laughing fate — had always toyed with you, over and over again. And here you were, caught in its trap once more.

Your scythe had cut down hundreds of their kind. Demons had crumbled into dust at your feet, your blade unflinching, your heart colder each time.

But now?

Now you couldn't kill even one.

Why him?

You didn't belong in the spotlight. You hated it — the blinding lights, the staged smiles, the never-ending swarm of paparazzi. The fake interviews, the forced poses, the soul-sucking brand deals. You hated being told to be perfect.

So you stayed in the shadows, right where you belonged.

You let Huntrix shine in the public eye: Mira, Rumi, and Zoe — the idols, the faces, the voices. They danced in the light, while you hid behind soundproof glass.

You were their producer — the faceless fourth. The one who stayed up late tuning tracks, patching lyrics when writer's block hit, and crafting every beat that sealed away the honmoon. You wove magic into the melody, just like the ones before you.

Because this was tradition. Always three on the stage. Always one in the dark.

You were older than them — not by much, but enough to feel responsible. You were their unnie, their protector. You had more battle scars, more stories, more secrets. That's why they never worried when you went on solo missions.

And that was your greatest weapon: anonymity.

The demons thought there were only three.

There had always only been three — as far as they knew.

But behind every generation of Hunters, there was someone else. Someone offstage. Someone who wrote the songs, not to climb the charts, but to trap the shadows lurking in the echoes.

You didn't need powerful vocals.

You had powerful visions.

And now... your power betrayed you.

Your mind spiraled. A million thoughts screamed inside your skull.

Should I let my heart keep listening? Up 'til now I've walked the line—nothing lost, but something missing...

You had everything, didn't you?

A found family that never let go. Best friends who would die for you. Your parents—alive and well. A career that others only dreamed of.

So why... why did your chest ache like something had been carved out of it?

And then—you saw him.

That's when it clicked.

What you were missing wasn't something. It was someone. It was love.

The kind that doesn't knock politely—it breaks the door down and stands in your ruined threshold.

You cursed yourself, quietly, for saying yes to Bobby.

"Come on," he had begged, "You've got the lightest schedule. Just help us set up the fan sign?"

And because you were you—softhearted, capable, and impossibly easy to guilt-trip—you agreed.

Even went the extra mile.

You planned the whole event. Stayed up finalizing logistics. Then told the rest of the staff to clock out early and go home to their families.

Now here you were. Alone in the quiet morning, taping up last-minute signage outside the venue.

You were halfway through unfurling a tarp when you spotted them—four bundled shapes huddled in sleeping bags along the curb.

"...Idiots," you muttered, frowning. Fans like these were rare and reckless. Sleeping outside just to be first in line for autographs?

You shook your head and kept working—until one of them stirred. One pulled back his hood and stood, dusting off the creases from his shirt.

That's when you saw him.

Eyes still puffy from sleep. Hair a soft, tousled black. That calm, unreadable face framed by the dawn's early light.

Back then, you had no idea who he was.

You'd been off the grid for days. Locked in the studio producing songs for idols you barely knew. Huntrix had been hunting without you. You hadn't checked socials in a week.

So when he stepped forward and said—

"Uh... can I use the bathroom?"

—you didn't even blink. Just sighed, rolled your eyes, and jerked your head toward the venue.

"This way."

No thanks. No recognition. He simply nodded and followed.

You didn't think much of it. You were too busy—back to climbing a wobbly stool to hang the tarpaulin behind were the girls will be sitting .

Balancing on tiptoe, gripping the thin banner with cold fingers.

Until a quiet voice called behind you:

"You know, that thing's totally uneven."

You didn't have to look to know it was him.

"And you're going to fall if you keep shifting like that."

You gritted your teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said flatly. "At least let me help."

You finally glanced down—and your heart skipped. He was already walking toward you. Calm. Composed. His face unreadable, but his hand was outstretched, palm open like he already knew you'd take it.

You didn't.

And in that split-second—of course—you slipped.

"Shit—" you hissed as your balance gave out and gravity claimed you. The ground rushed up too fast. You braced, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for the sharp slam of wood against your back—

But it never came.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist, halting your fall mid-air like it was nothing.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you cracked one eye open—then the other.

There he was.

Smug. Too close. Too confident.

That crooked smirk on his lips practically screamed "told you so."

His dark eyes flicked over your face, glittering with something unreadable—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. The hold on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you in his grip.

He was close. Too close.

You could feel his breath against your mouth. Hear the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart. And yours—yours was stammering like it didn't know what to do with itself.

He tilted his head a little. "You always this stubborn?"

You swallowed hard. "You always this annoying?"

His smirk widened—but his eyes softened, just barely. "Only when I'm right."

Later that afternoon, the event hall buzzed with energy—fans lined up, banners waving, cameras flashing. But your focus narrowed sharply when your eyes caught a familiar face.

Him.

He was back, but not alone this time. He stood upfront at the signing table with a few others you recognized from earlier—those same guys who'd been in the sleeping bags back at the entrance. And now they were freshen up, styled, and posing as if they belonged.

The Saja Boys.

You stood stiffly near a concrete pillar, arms crossed, trying to keep your face neutral. Rumi, Mira, and Zoe exchanged less-than-thrilled glances. No one had told you this was going to be a joint fan sign. The Huntrix event you had personally organized—put your own hours into, from venue to logistics—was now sharing space with a brand new K-pop boy group?

Your eye twitched.

You caught sight of him again, seated right next to Rumi. They were speaking quietly, heads close. Something about the way he leaned in, relaxed but confident, made your skin prickle.

"Do they know each other?" you murmured to no one in particular.

You flagged down one of the event staff, your voice firm. "Who approved the seating chart? Who is that?"

She gave you a sheepish smile, clearly overwhelmed. "Oh—uh, that's Jinu. He's the leader of the Saja Boys.

Your stomach dropped.

Leader? Of course he is.

As if on cue, Jinu glanced up from the table and locked eyes with you across the venue. Recognition flickered instantly in his gaze—and then he smiled.

That same maddening, devastatingly charming smile from earlier. The one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn't bother looking back.

The moment you stepped off and slipped behind the black curtains marking the backstage area, it was like you could finally breathe again. The air felt less heavy away from the flashing cameras, squealing fans, and—most of all—him. You paced for a second, then stopped by a corner to scroll through your phone, pretending to be invested in it. Anything to not think about the way your stomach twisted when he was near.

The distant noise of the crowd faded just enough for you to hear footsteps. Lazy, heavy, tired ones. You looked up.

It was Jinu—of course it was. He stood a few feet away, sharp eyes unreadable beneath dyed bangs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, the rest of the Saja boys passed by in a blur of exhaustion—Abby tossing his bouquet dramatically into a trash bin, Mystery yawning, Baby leaning heavily on Romance's shoulder as they all disappeared toward the van.

But Jinu? He was the only one who didn't just throw the bouquet in. He placed it gently—deliberately—on top of the pile. A folded piece of paper stayed clutched in his other hand, something he didn't discard. A letter from a fan, maybe. Or something else.

You glanced back down at your phone. He didn't leave.

"So what are you to them?" he asked, voice smooth, slightly amused. "Their manager? Event organizer?"

You looked up again. He was staring at you, head slightly tilted, brows raised in quiet challenge. The others were gone now—just the two of you. You squared your stance.

"I'm their producer," you replied flatly, folding your arms. Cool. Professional.

Jinu's lips tugged into a half-smirk as he slowly folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And you planned the fan event too? Damn. All in one, huh?"

He took a few slow steps in your direction, casual but not aimless. Calculated.

"I'm a perfectionist," you said simply, holding his gaze.

"Mm. Figures," he said, voice lower now as he closed the distance just a little more, eyes scanning your face. "You've got that look. Like nothing ever passed by you."

There was something in the way he said it—less teasing, more observant. He didn't mean just the event.

You looked away first.

You always did.

And ever since that day, your lives kept tangling—deliberate or not. Jinu always seemed to be just a few steps behind you. Or ahead of you. Or waiting.

There was something about the way he smiled—just a little too slow, a little too soft. The way his eyes held yours longer than they should've, almost as if memorizing the shape of your face each time. And then there was the way his gaze would flick down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, like a secret only he knew.

It wasn't just glances. It was tension. Thick and charged, like static before a storm.

The day he reached out—his hand resting on your waist to move you gently aside in the crowded idol common room—it felt like something clicked into place. The contact lingered. Not enough to raise suspicion, but just enough to make your breath catch.

Then there were the late-night run-ins. The 24-hour convenience store closest to your apartment, where you'd both pretend surprise even though you frequented it around the same hour. That time he "accidentally" found you working late in the studio, hunched over your laptop, trying to produce a new track under deadline.

"I didn't know anyone else was here," he'd said. But his voice didn't match the words. It was too calm. Too knowing.

Neither of you made the first move right away. But one night, you both stopped pretending.

Your lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then hungry. The kiss tasted like everything you'd both been holding back. Like the first breath after drowning.

And somehow, it felt like more than just a kiss. It felt like a beginning. A fragile, burning beginning.

You were falling for him. And he was falling too.

But then you heard it.

A conversation behind closed doors—Huntrix voices lowered in warning, laced with urgency. Jinu's name. A word you weren't meant to hear.

Demon.

Your heart plummeted like it had been cut loose from your chest.

Enemy.

And now, here you stood—frozen in place, suffocating beneath the weight of everything you knew and everything you felt. Love, twisted with betrayal. Warmth, laced with danger.

I can't decide what's wrong, what's right... Which way should I go?

The lyrics echoed in your mind, torn from a memory you couldn't quite silence. A song that once comforted you—now mocking your indecision.

Your scythe's blade hovered dangerously close to Jinu's neck. Your hands trembled, not from fear, but from fury barely contained. Your jaw locked as your blurred vision clung to the shape of him. The boy you used to trust. The demon he became.

Jinu didn't move. Didn't even raise his eyes to meet yours at first.

The wind whispered across the rooftop ledge, catching the hem of his jacket and brushing through your hair like some ghost trying to push you apart. He let out a slow breath, and when he finally looked at you, it wasn't with defiance.

It was guilt. Heavy. Real. Like he'd been carrying it for lifetimes.

"I never wanted you to find out like this," he said quietly, voice low and raw.

Your grip tightened on the scythe's handle. The curved blade shimmered under the moonlight, inches from his skin.

"You lied to me," you hissed, each word heavy like it cost you something to speak them aloud. "All this time. You were one of them."

Jinu lowered his gaze again. "Four hundred years is a long time to regret something."

"Don't you dare make this poetic," you snapped. "You could've told me. You let me care about you—trust you—when you knew what you were."

He didn't defend himself. Just stood there, letting your anger land where it may.

"I'm still me," he finally said, barely louder than the wind. "Even if the past is monstrous... I never stopped being me when I was with you."

Silence stretched. Your blade didn't waver, but your heart did

You didn't know when the tears started to fall—only that they burned on the way down.

All this time, you thought he was your safe place. The quiet in the chaos. But now... now he was the very storm you'd been trying to survive.

Jinu stepped forward—slowly, cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.

"You're right," he said softly. "I should've told you. I should've let you hate me from the beginning. But I didn't want to lose you before I ever had the chance to keep you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, half-choked and broken. "So instead you let me love a lie?"

He flinched.

The scythe dropped from your hands with a metallic thud against the rooftop. You couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't hold anything anymore. Not the rage. Not the love. Not the grief curling inside your ribs like fire.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive you," you whispered.

Jinu looked like he wanted to speak, but the words never came. Maybe there weren't any left that could fix this.

And maybe... that was the point.

You turned away from him, the wind now at your back. The skyline blurred through your tears, the city below indifferent to the war inside your chest.

Behind you, Jinu didn't move. Maybe he knew chasing you would only make it worse.

Maybe he knew he'd already lost.

Your voice broke the silence one last time, barely above a breath:

"If only I knew what my heart was telling me... Don't know what I'm feeling, is this just a dream?"

And then you were gone— leaving Jinu standing alone beneath the stars, with nothing but regret and the sound of your fading footsteps.

[straykidsnerd255]

Omg hiii!!! I’m loving what Saja boys hcs and I loved the pop mart hc u wrote!! (*^▽^*)

What would the saja babes be with an alt/goth gn!s/o? Their demon performance literally sparked this request (0///0)

Oh stop, you are too kind. Thank you so much! And thank you for sending in this request! I hope that you enjoy<3 Had to listen to Your Idol on repeat and don’t regret it. They can have my soul. I’m sure if I wore the goth reader all that well but I hope it's still good! 

Jinu:

Jinu is a sucker for your gothic style. Considering he is a demon, black and deep purple are his colors. 

Seeing you wear those very same colors made both his human side and demon side preen with happiness

Jinu had appeared as his demon one night in your shared apartment and you saw him, in the middle of putting your make-up on. 

You both had a seriously long talk that night

You didn’t understand why he would hide his demon side from you but the fear that filled him when he told you that he believed you would leave him made your heart break. 

You took his hand in yours and pressed it to your chest, just over your heart. 

“You are the only one that makes my heart race like I’m wearing pastel colors and flowers in my hair. Just like when you performed Soda Pop.” You giggled as the tips of his ears turned red.

When you and Jinu went on dates, he wore the pastel colors, you wore the black, a 180 to his demon persona. 

You designed your nails after his actual claws and Jinu could feel his heart racing like he had been running a marathon.

Scratch his head when the both of you are lazing around. Specifically in his demon form because he will purr. 

His demon will practically beg for back scratches when the two of you are lounging in the dorm room watching tv.

His demon form will clasp your hands together and hold them tightly when he feels overwhelmed. 

You show off all your black clothing and make-up on different nights when he is feeling down, hoping that will cheer him up. (It does. He’s a sucker for you.)

Abby Saja:

He is all about the bright colors. He is constantly wearing the bright blues and greens and pinks while you wear only black. You did occasionally wear a dark red whether it be contacts or a belt to hold your pants up. 

You fell for Abby Saja at a concert and when he saw you, he fell harder. Literally, he fell off the stage and landed at your feet, dust slowly settling as he rubbed his head and took your offered hand, worry in your eyes. 

From that moment, he knew he needed you by his side. He asked the security to take you back to their waiting room so he could talk to you and possibly get your name. 

Dating a demon for 3 years is still pretty new to you but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Abby Saja always asks for head rubs when he comes back from a rather long concert or a long tour that has finally ended. 

Even in his demon form, he is gentle when he holds you. He refuses to hurt the person that actually likes his demon and will ask him to show his demon randomly. 

The moment he stepped into the apartment, he saw you sitting on the couch in one of his black t-shirts and black basketball shorts. His demon appeared and he dramatically fell onto your lap. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your stomach as he closed his eyes and breathed in your scent.

“Long day?” You asked, immediately removing the black hat and running your fingers through his hair, occasionally screeching at his scalp. 

He shivered but nodded his head. “The longest day I have ever had. Please don’t make me go back and do it again.” He would whisper but you knew he loved it more than anything.

Mystery Saja:

He loves your goth style. He even asked you if you would be willing to dress him up the same way, his demon getting excited to try it out. 

Mystery had been getting ready for a concert when he saw you putting the make-up on, your eyes trained on the lines you were making on your eyes. 

He stopped, jaw dropped as he watched you. 

“You should apply as our makeup artist. You are talented with that.” He said, walking into the bathroom and stood behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he watched you. 

You giggled and finished the last of the make up before turning around and wrapping your arms around his waist and laying the side of your face against his stomach. 

“Gotta make myself look good for my boyfriend's concert. Where would the fun be if I didn’t show up in the colors that matched your demon side?” You asked, watching as his human form slipped away and his demon form appeared. 

You left an hour after he had left, knowing that was when you would be let into the stadium.

You watched him and his group with a soft smile, your heart pounding as he danced his heart out. 

When he caught sight of you, you smiled and waved watching as his whole face lit up.

The second the concert was over, you made your way to their dressing room but before you could even open the door, Mystery opened the door and pulled you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You were amazing, my love.” You whispered.

Romance Saja:

Even in his demon form, he refused to take your soul. The way you looked dressed in all black, chains falling around your hip and the black makeup around your eyes made him feel fuzzy. 

Romance will flirt with you non stop when you are getting your clothes on and makeup on.

When they were on stage in their demon forms, Romance refused to use his voice to control you. He watched you from the stage as you jumped up and down, ignoring the other fans around you. 

His chest swelled with pride as you danced along to the song. 

When the two of you are out shopping for new clothes to add to your closest, he does his best to learn the gothic style and does his best when it comes to choosing something you want. 

At one point, Romance asked if you would be willing to put the same eye makeup on him and you, in a giddy excitement, immediately sat him on the chair in the bathroom as you got to work.

When you two were getting ready for a date, Romance dressed in more lighter reds and pinks, pulling his hair back into a half bun to keep it out of his face while you pulled on a oversized black t-shirt, slipped into black cargo pants, clipping a few chains on the right side, and pulled on socks and combat boots.

Romance wrapped his arms around your neck as you applied the last of your makeup, his eyes shining when you turned to face him.

He will also sit and paint your nails black while he talks to you about his demon side, giving you all the details and such about it before pink smoke surrounds him and his demon is sitting in front of you. 

You can only stare at him mesmerized as he finishes painting your nails. Yes you have seen the demon before but from a distance. Having him in his demon form in front of you makes your heart thud against your chest like it has never done before. 

You are also taller than Romance, and built a little more than him so Romance has a thing for you standing behind him when fans are talking to him. 

Romance, when he is tired and you don’t have your full outfit on, will lay on your chest and sleep.

Romance will actively show you off in his instagram posts, holding your hand or pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

Baby Saja:

Baby Saja will walk around you, studding the clothing that you decided to wear on your date. 

His hands would graze the chain that sat on your hip, trace over the chain around your neck before taking you hand in his, looking up at you and smiling softly. 

He will never admit it but the way you dress in all dark clothes makes him happy. His demon likes the darker colors. It's easier on his eyes.

When he performed Your Idol, he could see you copying all his moves, mouthing all his words all while staring directly at him. 

You are slightly stronger than him when in human form so he will ask you for piggyback rides, mainly so he can nuzzle into your neck better. 

When he comes home after having to act like a popstar, he just collapses into your chest, while you are laying on the couch, scrolling through your phone. 

His demon appears as he rests his chin against your chest, silently begging for your attention. 

When you finally look at him, he blushes and buries his face in your chest, making you chuckle and wrap your arms around him.

He will insist on doing your makeup when you don’t feel like doing it yourself, carefully do your hair in a half bun leaving half your shoulder length hair down so he can play with it. 

Because of your gothic style, he will beg the rest of the group to let you be their manager, knowing that you have seen their demons and don’t care one bit. 

Your black nails are just long enough that he will ask you to scratch at his head when he is extremely tired and will actually fall asleep against your chest when you do so.

[zyettemoon1800]

Saja Boys watching you get your hair braided

Since becoming the manager of the Saja Boys, you haven't been able to catch a break. If it wasn't a meet and greet then it was practice, and if it wasn't that then they needed you to do something for them. Just when you thought you were going to crash out, Jinu decided that everyone deserved a break for the next day.

Knowing that you might not get this chance again, you made an appointment to get your hair braided. The following day, as you woke up extremely early to go to your appointment, you were surprised and annoyed to see all the boys up and ready to go with you.

Not wanting to deal with them, you told them that they could tag alone as long as they are on their good behavior.

Baby

He wasn't really interested in going, but since everyone else was going he just tagged along.

For the first five hours he was fine and kept himself entertained, however, after his phone dies and he doesn't have a charger, so he makes it your problem.

While you are sitting in the chair, he will walk up to your chair and look at your hair when the person is braiding it. "Are they supposed to be different sizes?" He'll say and then walk away

Romance

He did really well for the entire 10-hour process.

He most sat over by you and made sure you didn't need anything.

As you are getting your hair braided, he is already showing you pictures of other braid styles that he thinks will look good on you.

Since the place that you are getting your hair done at is in a kind of crowded area, he will go out and get food for you

Mystery

He didn't make it pass the two-hour mark

He is a fidgeter and sitting for hours on end is not something he wants to do.

He will start to read and look at everything in the store and when he is done with that, he will mess with you for a little bit by staring at you or sitting by you and putting his head on your lap.

He would definitely go with Romance whenever he goes out to get food.

Abby

Another one with a short attention span

He will probably join Mystery in reading everything in the store, however he does get bored on that pretty soon, so he will start lifting heavy things and start exercising.

He will start flexing and posing in the mirror and taking pictures with you in the shot

Jinu

Through the entire process, he is asking you a bunch on questions about your hair and why you wanted to spend you day off doing this.

You both had a talk about how your hair does much better when it is left alone.

He is amazed by your braids and keeping touching them

However, after about five hours he does leave because he is bored.