#i get to think about her... which is all that we(i) need....

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Purpose | Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

“You want me to do what?!”

The call from your awkward and friendly acquaintance in the idol-managing business leaves you in an unreadable ball of confusion. Typically when Bobby did call you it was to brag about his girls or about the latest resort he was gifted by the girls. But this time he needed your help and you weren’t sure if you were going to give it. 

“Please please (Y/n)! You taught me everything I know; if there’s anyone who can handle them it’s you.”

Bobby pleading on his knees doesn’t change your reluctance but the pleading gazes of the boy-band in question made you slow to voice it. It also was harder to refuse when you could see the shining blue shackles on each of their wrists. A marked hand slides onto your shoulder with a stealth you haven’t felt in a long time and instinctively you reach for the holster under your coat, locking eyes with the one you once deemed to be an enemy.

“It can only be you. Mx. (L/n).”

It’s the purple-haired idol who not only was rumored to have once endangered the Honmoon but mended it with strength that surpassed her ancestors. Here she was glowing with her shining demon marks in broad daylight. A part of you still found it wrong.

She took your blatant staring in stride; sending Bobby out of the room,”Mind giving us some space? I think it might land better y’know? Idol to idol?”

“Oh, sure thing Rumi! In fact, I’ll go get the celebratory ramyeun now!”

He dashed as if his life depended on it, leaving you and Rumi with the shackled demon idols. Looking warily at the hunter you slowly pulled your hand away from your holster. The fakely wide smile on her fades into something more concerning. Pressing her purple-painted lips together, it’s time to address the real elephant in the room. 

“Why are they still here?! I thought you killed them all when you made the Honmoon golden.”

She nervously smiles, “I–thought I did too. But it seems that they were sealed in the upper world instead. The only one who….didn’t make it was thanks to Gwi-Ma.” She steps away from you, putting her hand out as if to pet the “baby Saja boy.” Previously he looked as though he was dead; standing with a face that epitomized boredom. That all changed when Rumi came close. His eyes glowed that sinister yellow and his fangs were bared as he chomped at the air her hand used to be. The blue chains clink with golden chains that shine in a ripple like the Honmoon itself. 

“You must mean the leader. Jin.”

You were playing with fire. For all the shipping edits that the idol leaders were put through, anyone could’ve guessed that they were close. While you don’t have eyes and ears close to her domain, it still got back to you just how close she’d gotten with him. During Huntrix's report of the event, Jin’s returned soul was what gave the trio the power to completely exorcise Gwi-Ma. A feat that was impossible even for the first hunters to exist.

“Yes…Jin,” she spoke his name with a heavy resonance. A respect that hadn’t dulled at all because it still felt raw.

”He saved me by showing me how to accept this part of myself rather than hide.”

She held her hands in front of her playing with the light against her marks, “Still he’s showing me there’s more to this side of myself I never really understood before.”

You watched her close her hands into fists and turn to you with a fierceness in those brown eyes you’ve never seen in person,” Which is why I think we should try helping them before we kill them.”

Stopping your laughter you finally spoke, “We?”

“We. Huntrix can’t do this on our own. You’ve been handling the otherside of the hemisphere well and now that both sides are sealed all that’s left is to care for the demons that slipped through.”

“Then why not just kill them?” The one with abs tries to jab at her which she skillfully dodges,” They clearly aren’t fond of you.”

Pausing she looks at them and then at you. 

“I have to try…if Jin saw something worth using maybe…maybe there's more to them that I haven’t seen yet. That no one’s seen. I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I’m retired. I don’t think I can do much of anything now.”

Rumi gives you a look. That glare of determination that makes you feel exposed.

“I’ve heard you before. You can do this.”

You turn, prepared to refuse but she grabs your hands.

“Please (Y/n).To protect our reign of peace….please.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, Saja boys. Listen up you live and breathe to be the idol group I demand you be, you hear me?!” 

The collective groans of the demon boy band, the sound makes you smirk. In an instant, you begin to hum an old song you used to sing unsheathing your whip from its holster. Romance is the one who perks up, the only one who seems to catch on that you are about to obliterate them.

“AcK!”

“OW that burns!”

“Please don’t!”

“Okay okay, we’re all listening p-please contine.”

It’s over in seconds. Everything but their faces is covered in disgusting blue welts. 

“As I was saying. I expect my perfect idol boy band to be smiley, friendly, and to say 'yes (Y/n)' whenever I ask you questions. Is that clear?”

“Yes (Y/n)!”

“That’s good now have a good show just like we practiced!”

It’s been interesting taking on the Saja boys. Their image that had Jin be their cool and calm collected leader was very much the truth. Without you breathing down their necks you found they were quite awful to all around them.

“Abby did you or did you not hit that PA with a button of yours, on purpose?”

“I mean they were looking too hard anyway it’s not my fault.”

“It is your fault that they went to the hospital thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

“It’s whatever they got a souvenir they’ll never forget!”

CRACK!

“Not the whip please, I’ll make a public apology! Sorry!”

You’ve dealt with idols that had a kamidere complex or outright narcissism but you haven’t dealt with literal demons who barely grasped that humanity was anything more than a population of overgrown bugs. 

“Alright, Bae Bee what’s going to be the right response if someone asks how you feel about the subject of turtles?”

“Goo Goo Gaga?”

“No. Try using real words please.”

“It’s…whatever?”

“I did that whole slide show and you didn’t gather anything from that?!”

“....”

FWHIP!

“Their…mid?!”

CRACK!

“Wahhh!”

But you wouldn’t continue with this farce if you didn’t realize there was a learning curve to be had. The first time it dawned on you was when Romance came to you in the dead of night, clutching the book you’d gifted them your second day: How to be a Human for Dummies. You were lounging on the large couch watching your shows when he walked in. He stood awkwardly by the door like a child who’d come to woefully inform his parents he’d wet the bed. You pretended not to know he was there; gauging if he’d actually ask for help like you offered.

“Why should we try?”

You muted the TV. Giving the pink-haired demon your full attention, you turned as he stood at the opposite end of the couch.

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

His nails dug into the paper cover,” no I mean why do we have to…I’ve already tried doing that before. I don’t want to go through that again.”

His marks flashed and you couldn’t see his face clearly; his hair making a curtain you so desperately wanted to peek past. 

Sighing you stood, “Follow me.”

Doing as he was told he followed you over rooftops, skillfully swinging through the concrete jungle to end it bumping into your back. He opened his mouth to insult you, to whine about how you couldn’t just answer the question to following your gaze. Down below in a window that flashed with all matter of colors, was a girl surrounded by friends singing terribly into the microphone as they cheered her on.

“You see her” The girl with the red bow in her hair?”

“...yeah.”

“She used to wonder that too. She used to walk home every day from school to her room. Locking herself away because she once listened to the same voices you do. Frankly, if she had continued listening she would have ended up just like you.”

“Then why isn’t she…like me that is?”

“Because she kept trying. Worked hard to find those she could care about; though it was hard she found them. Only because she tried.”

“So what?! I try and everything will be fixed?”

“I didn’t say that but no matter what you’ve done. Trying to make amends. Trying to be better is what makes it, you, worth it in the end.”

“Even if it took 300 years?”

“Even if it took 300 years.”

They certainly had their moments and that was enough to not exorcise them when their third month existing in the idol world rolled around. Much to your displeasure, you had no choice but to inform Rumi you’d continue to manage the Saja boys. If only to help them reconcile with themselves. To instead use their talent and influence to strengthen the Honmoon and continue to keep the positive energy that the fans permeated alive and well. 

If you worked hard, you could save the remaining Saja boys.

____________________________________________________________

“I hate this.”

Mystery was the first to voice this opinion. Finally left alone and unsupervised the Saja Boys were able to speak without the threat of being whipped, stabbed, or otherwise ground into a pulp on the shining golden Honmoon. Backstage just before another performance.

“Yeah, this just such a bummer. It was more fun when we worked for Gwi Ma!” Abs spoke leaning against the walls of the hidden stage. 

“Was it actually fun or were we just happy not to be reminded of who we are?” 

Romance turned still maintaining the front position of the band just as they’d been instructed, looking into the golden eyes of his fellow demons. Looking for the same confusion he’d been saddled with since they started this.

“I don’t really care, I just don’t like feeling…like this.” 

“Like what, Myst?! What exactly do you feel?” 

Abandoning his position, he closed in. Holding the quiet demon by the neck and slamming him into the wall. The infrastructure of the stage shook and dented but Romance was careful. He wasn’t certain why he cared so much to know his answer. He’d been asking the same thing of himself for all this time.

Mystery pursed his quivering lips. Romance growled and threw the demon to the ground, rolling into Abs’ feet. The muscular demon deflated when Romance turned to him expecting an answer, his eyes darting around as if the moving walls would have it scrawled somewhere. 

The lack of response only made the pink-haired demon angrier. Fangs beared and marks on full display he charged narrowly scratching at Abs’ face. Mystery got up to intervene, fully prepared to bite the neck of the completely wild Romance. Until his voice broke the silence.

“Purposeless. That is what we are feeling.”

His real voice was much deeper than his human one which is why when the late Jin led the group he was specially instructed to keep it hidden. But they had no leader. They have no Gwi-Ma. All they have in this hidden stage is each other. 

Romance retracts his claws, the marks still glowing bright, and he pulls at his locks.

“He’s right. W-we have nothing anymore! All we have is ourselves and that’s worse than nothing. W-w-we can’t even go back!”

His shaky declaration makes everyone unsettled. Placing a name to their fear—to their reality made it far too true. Their marks all begin to glow with an anxious throbbing. Mystery retreats into himself huddling into the corner. Abs freezes, willing his body to move and failing miserably. Even Baby lets the cap he’s wearing cover his face as he slowly slides to the floor.

“What’s the use of trying to change if I don’t even know why I’m here?! You’ve seen these humans!? They don’t know so what am I supposed to do?!”

The Honmoon throbs at his cry. 

“How can I try when I don’t want to face who I am?!”

Demon marks flaring in tandem with the flickering gold.

“What good can come from someone as far gone as I?!”

The Honmoon dangerously touches the color pink. 

“What am I supposed to do with myself!? Without any voice what am I supposed to do!?”

Multiple tears of the barrier are forming and joining at the seams around each of the separate Saja boys. Each one is influenced by their pain and about to damage the sanctity of the Honmoon.

~kzzt~

Like a heaven-sent. The comms in their ears buzzed to life.

~kzz~He~kzztz~

The pink fades and the healing blue returns to the barrier.

~kz~Hey can you guys hear me in this thing? It’s me (Y/n).kzztz~

It’s your voice. Their guardian. Their manager.

“As expected these walkies are crap. Anyway, I expect you boys to give me your best because I know you can do it. Can you do that for me Saja?”

The voice in their ears answered the only remaining questions.

“Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now wow that crowd and no soul stealing.”

The silence of the stage was lighter. More defined. The long turned-off comms burned into their ears. All of them replaying the echo of their manager’s voice—soothing, uplifting, commanding.

“It is them. That will be our purpose.”

Baby’s voice spoken with clarity confirmed what they all decided. As the stage begins to rise and the cheers of their fans increase even more. The Saja Boys are in position, prepared to perform just as their manager demands it. 

______________________________________________________________

“So how’s it gone, managing them?”

All of Huntrix was over for the day, enjoying some bubble tea as they looked at the golden-covered city. The barrier glowed strong with a healthy pulse fully powered by their fans.

You were glad that you’d convinced the boys to attend their shoot solo. Otherwise, you would’ve risked having this conversation with them around. Which wouldn’t have been a good idea considering how close they’ve gotten.

“It’s going great. They haven’t had another incident since I last called.”

The girls shared a look. 

Mira sneered at the promotional material for the group scattered on the table, picking it up like it was dirty laundry. 

“By great do you mean, like the Honmoons not broken great or that there's an uptick in murders in the last month—all where you guys were going on tour–great?”

Zoey chuckled anxiously, “We don’t want to accuse but the numbers don’t look great.”

Shooting a look at Rumi, you settled in your chair. Looking out at the city below carefully putting pressure on the plastic cup in your hands.

“Look I wish I could definitively say it’s just a coincidence but I looked into those cases myself and most of them seem airtight. But I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t some demonic influence.” Zoey and Mira shared a look before turning back to you with a grimace.

“I’m saying there’s just no way to tell for sure if it was them and without evidence I can't exactly ‘convict’ anyone.”

“So you're saying there’s no way not one of those boys slipped through your grasp?”

“Yeah (Y/n)...we know you’re technically retired and there’s five demons and one of you…it can’t be easy.”

Rumi finally looked ready to speak and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it. 

“We were thinking maybe you should take a break!” She didn’t look entirely convinced, looking between Mira and Zoey. “We’re going on a break for a little while so maybe we can look after them for you.”

“I’d love that,” you studied their faces for some kind of joke,” but I don’t know if you can handle the boys any more than I could.”

The girls confidently laughed.

“Are you kidding?”

“We nearly killed them the last time we met!”

“Yes, Huntrix has got this in the bag!”

The girls cheered with pride as they whooped and hollered at one another. You admired their spunk, something you felt came far too less now that you’ve outgrown the group you used to hunt with. 

“Alright then girls, I’ll take you up on your offer–”

“Yes!” “The-Best-B-ab-y Sitters in the wooorldd!” “Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!”

“---a word of caution girls.”

Your words had them stopping in their tracks, their triumphant smiles only softening to acknowledge you. The only one it completely faded from was Rumi, who almost looked afraid to see you step on the elevator.

“The Saja Boys are a lot more determined than you’d think. Try not to be an obstacle for them.”

With that, the metal doors slid closed, and for once in a long time you were alone. Now came the hard part—telling them. 

______________________________________________________________

“You have got to be kidding me!?”

It was Bae Bee taking his usual spot at your back, his fanged sneer hissing into the side of your head he was previously nuzzling against. His nails had gotten longer penetrating the T-shirt you were wearing, a single flick to his wrist had him retract his claws but not loosen his grip.

Speaking of claws you could feel the demon on your lap allowing his to emerge and grip at your jeans all the tighter. The practiced action of oncoming tears soaking through the denim told you, Mystery was having a similar reaction. Across the room were Romance and Abby both dressed in their custom robes were drying with their respective blow dryers after using the dressing room’s shower. Both appliances were crushed and melted onto the floor within seconds of your announcement. The demons-responsible, flashing their marks and fangs at you. Romance immediately straightens up, adjusting his hair and robe before glaring down at you.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“YEAH A PROMISE! WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK THOSE.”

Abby was worse for wear marks and teeth on full display; you mentally noted to pay the venue for the damage he’d cause. Already a partition was torn through, a wall successfully punched into, and a microwave was effectively torn apart. If you didn’t ease his worries the staff would be next.

“I’m not leaving you guys. The deal was that if you all made an effort to change, I’d never leave.”

“Which is what you’re trying to do,” Mystery muffled protests had everyone nodding.

Romance stepped forward again, arms crossed and amber eyes glowing deviously down at you. 

“Then that would mean our deal is off!”

“No, it’s not! We never said anything about time off or leaving and coming back.”

“Didn’t have to,” Bae whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face, ” You are the one who agreed.”

It’s then you feel the need to reach for your whip, reaching for your beloved weapon underneath your coat. Searching for your saving grace next to your waist you only to find its empty holster. Looking over to Abby who’s suddenly stopped his violent tirade to pull at the much sought after weapon. 

“Then if you go that means we don’t have to abide by the rules anymore.” He looks at you like a puppy, one who’s done something awful and hopes you understand. The boisterous Abby was no longer there, a serious look on his face. 

You want to soothe him. To deny it. But the truth of the matter was just that, you had to leave and at this point,t it wouldn’t do you any good to demand they accept otherwise. Your whip across the room, your body held in place by a smirking demon, your legs held down by another, and your attention on the one you were sure had made the most progress. 

“We have changed if it helps. We’ve upheld our end of the deal. For you to go against us now…well we’ll just try to preserve our purpose.”

By now you were in no place to make demands.

“So go enjoy your…trip. We’ll be waiting and by then we’ll have changed some more just as you commanded.”

No trip to the Maldives would erase those words from your head.

______________________________________________________________

When you return from any kind of holiday there’s a moment of great depression. A crushing sense of reality from the joy you experienced comes in full force as you unpack and reenter your tiresome schedule. In your case it was no different, for two whole weeks you could ignore the haunting reactions of the demons you guarded to lounge with a poolside cocktail in hand. Of course, your return would be tumultuous. 

In the darkness of the condo you’d begun to call home, was Rumi. Sat crossed-legged in the mess of sliced furniture, just as worse for wear as the decor around her. You called to her, almost unsure it was she until she looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her marks an ugly black and the typically brown and golden eyes were red. 

“I…didn’t think anything would change,” she finally spoke carelessly musing as you tried to nurse her wounds, “that I would still be strong enough to beat them…I just wasn’t ready for them to…change like I did.”

You want to question her. To ask what she meant but the four pairs of golden eyes smiling back at you explained more than anything she could have said.

“A deal’s a deal.”

Out of the darkness limp bodies clattered to the floor. Battered and bruised it was Zoey and Mira. Unconscious and scarily still you watched Rumi struggle to carry them both, limping to the elevator. She spared you a single glance; eyes filled with too many apologies to ever speak.

“I…can’t be an obstacle to you anymore. Goodbye (Y/n).”

With the broken jingle of the elevator, you were left with your boys once again. Gripping the handle of your whip, you wait for them to reveal themselves to you…fully. Without a word, they emerge in their original forms circling around you with smiles on their marked and purple faces.

“So what are we doing now that I’ve returned?”

Their distorted chuckles don’t settle your unease.

“You said you changed do you plan to show me?”

“Of course, (Y/n).” Abby’s voice was the loudest and when you turned prepared to strike, your arm was held in place by the demon. 

“Whatever you demand of us.”

You dropped the whip catching it with your opposite hand, rearing to strike again only for your other hand to be caught and pried open. Your whip forcefully fell into the hands of Bae who smiles cruelly as he snaps your beautiful weapon in half with a ripple of magenta smoke. Of course, you struggle but the hands holding you in place are firm, warping your struggles so that you fall to your knees. Your chin is being held so gently by the new lead of the Saja Boys.

“We are always at your command, (Y/n). Because you are our purpose.”

You open your mouth to speak, to finally give a proper command since they demand it of you. Only for your lips to be covered in Dutch tape, which is played with as Romance comes even closer. The dark blue blush on his face shows just how much he relishes the glare you have for him.

“Since you broke your deal with us, we are free to change. To finally be free to serve our purpose however we see fit.”

It’s then you feel something monstrous intertwine itself with the barrier of the Honmoon pink and orange demon hands replacing the idol demons’ hands. Allowing them to look down on you as well all of them casually caressing your sealed lips.

“You right (Y/n), we have changed.”

There were hands in your hair.

“We’ve grown stronger and it’s all because you gave us a chance. Because you taught us to care.”

There were hands on your back.

“Encouraged us to try.”

Somehow they were in your brain.

“Even if it takes 300 years.”

You sleep in the arms of the Saja Boys—Your boys because you’re all they work for. All they try for. All they’d think to change for. 

You are their purpose and they’ll do anything you they demand.

Totally forgot some of these guys died on screen Whoopsie!

Kofi → Here Masterlist → Here Commissions → Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤

[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!

[shannoneichorn]

Ooh! Pick me! This is the path I've started down and want to get better at.

Both my churches have been participating in our city's Pride parade the last several years. I go with my roommate from a mission trip to our denominatuon's churches in Cambodia--and her wife. And one of my LGBT family members. And some allies from work. And meet up with my LGBT friends from work, who join different parts of the parade.

The longer I live, the clearer it's become that the public school sex ed I had was wholly inadequate. The US is actively harming itself by not investing in better.

I adore my atheist husband and atheist/agnostic/pagan friends. I know my denomination doesn't ascribe to universal salvation, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me.

God fashions variety. No reason we should stamp it out of cultures. I have a problem with trying to convert people instead of gently inviting them to join the community. My ideal church would be a gathering place for all with a subset of activities dedicated to spiritual support/worshiping in community, and I think both my churches are partway there.

It blows my mind that any Christian who grew up hearing about being stewards of the Earth would support environmental harm and environmental injustice. But you know, the church is full of all kinds of people, some of whom are great at cognitive dissodence and terrible at logic. (They're allowed to be wrong.)

I'm part of the second largest Protestant denomination in the US (at least in 2013--a lot has changed since then). On the one hand, it's the denomination I grew up in, and there's a certain amount of lazy comfort in just sticking with it. On the other hand, I also stuck with it because it explicitly acknowledges science and rationalism. God gave us minds and access to tools with which to explore Creation--like science and math and social sciences and literature (since we are part of Creation, too, and lit is great for exploring ourselves).

There is a documented history around how the Bible and translations developed. Many human hands were involved, and humans are limited not only by their own biases but also by the knowledge that was available to them at the time and the culture in which they lived. The Bible can be divinely inspired, but I keep thinking that its components were, first and foremost, written for the audiences of their times. It's amazing how it can still be so meaningful today, but not all the issues of today are addressed within--and they shouldn't be. An active faith requires synthesis of learning and applications to new situations in ways that are consistent with the Spirit of love and compassion that the Bible describes.

I...haven't encountered antisemitism at church...? Like Muslims, those are people we share a distant religious heritage with. They're like second cousins. Maybe treat everyone with kindness and respect, the way Jesus would? This...should not be hard to grok. (I feel like I could do better here, but at least it's a start.)

I'm jumping on this opportunity to shout about this, because it's been bothering me. Yes, we need to be louder, but also... There are reasons why I'm not.

Christians are doing so much harm right now, and I don't want to be associated with it. Churches have done so much harm, and I don't want to remind the people around me who have finally gotten out of it. (Part of me thinks, my church would never! But churches are communities of imperfect people, and at the very least, wherever people gather, there will be drama and hurt feelings. And denial when abuses do happen. And also, many churches haven't been on the forefront of all we've learned about psychology in the last 50 years, and there are also harmful cultural habits where communities haven't rooted them out.)

And also, I want my friends, neighbors, and acquaintances to believe I'm safe to be around. Evangelizing does not accomplish that goal. Caring for people has to come first, or what's the point?

Thank you for this call to be louder. I shall now go back to hiding under my rock/bushel.

In general, I think it's currently really important for progressive Christians to be very loud about being both progressive and deeply religious Christians, and for everyone else fighting for progressive values to be supportive of them doing just that. I know that's like, idk, counter-intuitive or cringe or whatever, but seriously folks, the alternative is that progressive Christians have to be quiet about their faith to be accepted within broader secular and interfaith progressive advocacy, which means that the regressive asshole Christians (a) sound that much louder and (b) dominate the USian religious landscape all the more. That's a problem, for all of us.

We need people pushing back within the faith as well as outside of it, because that destroys any edifice that this is about Christianity and religious freedom.

You can be a devout Christian and also:

Openly, proudly, and without being forced to remain celibate or otherwise limit your full expression of self, identify as LGBTQ+ or be a supportive ally.

Advocate for full reproductive autonomy and comprehensive sex education.

Love and support people of other religious groups, non-religious people and/or atheists, by choosing to believe that a truly loving God would not pursue anything less than universal salvation.

Stand against evangelism and proselytizing as they have thus far been interpreted and used, because there are ways to interpret the Great Commission that don't promote colonialism and cultural genocide.

A steward of the earth, protecting God's beautiful creation and lovingly tending to it as the unique and incredible gift that it is.

A believer in science, rationalism, and human progress as part of God's divine plan for humanity.

A believer in history and someone who understands that the Bible can be both divinely given and open to interpretation (no really)(if you're confused, please talk to a knowledgeable traditional Jew)

An ally to Jews, who stands against supercessionism and antisemitism in the church.

And in before regressive Christians come shouting at me that (1) what do I know, I'm a Jew and (2) no lol you can't because of ___ reason:

My source is that I've personally met and talked to Christians of great faith and integrity - people who embody the closest forms of kindness I've seen to what Jesus himself advocated - who are each of these things.

It is 100% possible; you just choose to believe otherwise.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

CLOCKED IN

pairing: aaron hotchner x fake!fiancee!reader summary: hotch is trying his hardest to keep it together when your so-called friends crash the night out, good thing the bau are world class shit stirrers, based on this request. warnings: fluff, protective hotch but also protective bau!! brief reference to them meeting which can be read here word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Hotch was, against all odds, and probably his own expectations, actually having a good time. Shocking, really. But he knew exactly why, it was you. You sitting under the glittering mirrorball light, talking with your hands mid-explanation. 

It was your first official time meeting the team, and he wasn’t even a little bit surprised by how quickly you charmed every single person at the table. You had that effect on people. It was something he’d always admired about you, and okay, maybe envied a little too. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm or approachable. His voice didn’t magically pull smiles from strangers. Yours did.

And yet somehow, you—completely out of the blue—had walked into a bar similar to this one and asked him, a total stranger, to pretend to be your fiance for the night. Still one of the most absurd things he’s ever heard and he deals with absurd for a living.

Maybe that bit of envy came from a selfish place, though. Because he liked to think that the effervescent side of you was something you saved just for him, but it wasn’t because you were like that with everyone. All grins, all giggles, all theatrics because that’s who you were. And it made him furious inside to imagine anyone taking advantage of that. Like those awful friends who made you feel like you had to lie in the first place.

Still, in a roundabout, slightly messed-up way, he guessed he owed them one. Because their cruelty had delivered you straight to him.

He was mid-sip of his drink when he caught the way your smile wobbled. And when you did a double take towards the front door, his eyes were inclined to follow to see who or what he was going to have to glare at for sucking the light from your face that fast.

He didn’t even try to hide the exasperated sigh that left him.

“Oh boy,” you muttered, eyes still on the door.

“Do you know them?” JJ asked, leaning forward over a cluster of empty cocktail glasses. “Because they’re pointing.”

“And coming over,” Morgan added, eyebrows raised.

You straightened in your seat. “That’s…the quarter of the group responsible for me meeting Aaron.”

“No!” Penelope gasped, hand flying to her chest. “You mean those friends? The ones you had to lie to? The whole fake-fiancé saga?”

“In the flesh,” you confirmed, grabbing your drink and taking two very necessary gulps as Aaron braced himself for the evening to dissolve into performative lunacy. 

You shifted in your seat beside him, shoulders going stiff in that I’m fine, this is fine way that meant the opposite. And yeah, his jaw clenched. Because the idea of you having to perform just to feel safe, or liked, or respected? Made his blood run hot. Especially when you were surrounded by people who actually saw you—really saw you—and didn’t need a single performance to adore you.

“Oh my god! Okay! We all have very important parts to play,” Penelope whisper-yelled at the table.

“Just don’t make it weirder than it has to be,” Emily muttered, toying with her paper straw.

“You want another drink?” Rossi nudged Aaron who just glared at the older man. “Come on, lighten up. I didn’t get to see you in fiancé-action last time.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Hotch said dryly, reaching over and resting his hand over yours in a squeeze.

You turned to face him and the panicked look on your face made his stomach knot. “I’m sorry for this. I had no idea they’d be here, I haven’t even spoken to them in months.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, just like you don’t owe them a damn thing.” His tone softened. “But if you want an out, just say the word, I’ll make up an excuse and we’re gone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but it was too late.

“Wow,” came a voice you knew all too well. “Look who it is.”

“Veronica.” You offered a perfectly polite, perfectly fake smile. “Dani,” you added, glancing at her tagalong.

“Mind if we sit with your fiancé and friends?” Veronica asked, already pulling a chair over from the table behind because she wasn’t actually asking or waiting for permission. She wedged herself in between you and Emily.

Dani copied her motions, plopping herself down between Penelope and Spencer. The poor genius looked like he was calculating the fastest way to disassociate, especially when Dani’s manicured hands rested a little too close to his drink. 

“So,” Veronica said, all teeth. “Are you going to introduce us?” She glanced around the table. “How do you all know the happy couple?”

“We work with Hotch,” Morgan answered smoothly, lifting his glass. “FBI.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s… intense.”

“Depends on the day,” Emily chimed in, “But yeah, keeps us busy.”

Veronica’s icy gaze slid to you, her mouth twitching. “Must be nice. All that… structure and stability. Probably pays off a little more than fashion, huh?”

You barely had time to get a word out before Penelope jumped in for you. “Oh, sweetie. One campaign of hers pays more than my entire annual salary. And I’m not exactly working for peanuts.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, just as Aaron’s thumb pressed gently against your hand, as if reminding you to breathe. 

“Anyway,” Dani piped up, suddenly remembering she had both a voice and a personality, “how’s wedding planning going? You must be deep in it by now, right?”

“Weren’t you just looking at venues?” Rossi added with a grin, like he’d been personally waiting for this moment. Hotch made a mental note to get him store-brand whiskey for his next birthday.

“We were,” Hotch replied as casually as he could manage. “She wants a beach wedding. I want one where her dress doesn’t blow into the ocean.”

Morgan snorted while JJ shook her head, trying and failing to hide a smile. 

“Tell the truth,” Emily grinned. “You just don’t want sand in your shoes.”

“I don't want sand in my everything,” Hotch said flatly, taking a sip of his drink at the involuntary conversation. 

“Fair,” Morgan laughed, tipping his glass towards him. “Sand gets everywhere. Man’s got a point.”

“Well, the guest list must be pretty large then,” Veronica went on, smiling just a little too sweetly. “Half the FBI, and of course us, your best friends. You’ll need something that can accommodate everyone.”

“We’re keeping it small,” Hotch almost snarled, his tone landing somewhere between polite restraint and you’re not fucking invited. Not that there was an actual wedding, but if he ever did marry you, those two would be the last names on the list.

“Oh! But you have to have bridesmaids, right?” Dani pressed on, gesturing between herself and Veronica. “I mean, you’re probably thinking of us, your best friends—”

“We haven’t gotten that far,” you cut her off.

“Besides,” Emily added with a shark-like smile, “it’s so hard to find dresses that don’t clash with fragile egos.”

Your eyebrows shot up before you could stop them. Morgan was grinning like a man thoroughly entertained. JJ stifled a laugh behind a cough. And Spencer? He just looked politely baffled, having subtly nudged his drink as far away from Dani’s claws as possible without making it look like he was giving it to Rossi. 

Hotch, meanwhile, added a new line to his growing mental list: whatever bottle Emily wanted for her birthday, she was getting the top shelf version. Hell, maybe two. 

Some of the tension in his chest eased a little and he hoped yours had too. Because if there was one thing his team excelled at, it was rallying around someone they’d decided was theirs. And judging by the grins, side-eyes, and Emily’s very intentional lack of filter, the BAU had officially clocked in.

Not for a case. 

For you. 

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @star-crossed-sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp  @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @hopelessromantic727 @piatosniathenie @averyhotchner @softtdaisy @khxna @thehotchners @tinythebunni @violettablackwood @starsmoonn @kajjaka

join my taglist here 💌

please fill out the form if you'd like to be tagged for specific readers or send me a dm if you'd like to be removed from the list!

[mona-risms]

hear me out.. polytrix x reader where fem!reader doesn't know about the whole demon hunter thing and is still under the hypnosis from the saja boys and the girls try their hardest to snap her out of it. 🫦

◆ MAIN COURSE: poly!HUNTR/X x fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None

◆ NOTES: This might've SLIGHTLY teeny tinily missed the point but I hope you still like it!! I can't make a full-blown fic without getting paid bc I'm broke as hell and I'm lazy so the most you're getting is the usual hcs and snippets I fear 💔. But anyway I LOVELOVELOVE POLYTRIX 😩😩😩😩😩 I think they should all kiss together and kiss me too

This is the funniest shit ever and no one can tell me otherwise bc you've got three ninja popstars and one perfectly normal human being who just really really loves K-Pop. And you all LOVE each other????? #holyfcknairball no one would believe you until you show full proof that yes you do in fact kiss those celebrities on the mouth! Every day actually! Unless they're on tour but still! Yes you are a girls only poly couple! You couldn't be happier!

Unfortunately bc of the fact that you're normal, you won't even know that the hot new boy band, Saja Boys, are all drawing people in via brainwashing to sacrifice your souls to a Demon King named Gwi-Ma that looks like an oversized wildfire. Said people includes you I fear 💔💔. Imagine you were out coincidentally and you got to witness their debut performance and you were so drawn to them!! Why wouldn't you be??

They hear your voice before they see you—right there, right near the front row, right in front of them.

"What's she doing here?" Mira hissed, though despite her tone, the concern was glaringly obvious.

"I think she wanted to buy something? She said about baking," Zoey answered, her own concern matching up with Mira as she bounced on the balls of her feet in an attempt to both alleviate her sudden restlessness and to see you from the crowd. "But-- But what if they try to grab her? [Y/N]'s at a very grabbable distance! And the worst thing is I won't even blame them—she's really grabbable in general!"

Zoey doesn't even finish before Rumi's weaving through the crowd in an attempt to reach you, "Either way, no one is getting grabbed, least of all our girlfriend."

When Rumi does reach you, she taps your shoulder to gain your attention. Without fail, you turn around and smile widely in recognition, "Ru-- Ahem, babe! Did you see how good this new band was? They're called the Saja Boys!"

"Yeah. I heard."

Usually, you would've noticed her sudden deadpan, but you were buzzing too much under your skin from the sudden excitement of this new debut so you barrelled on, "Maybe you and them'll even collab one day! Wouldn't that be awesome?!"

"Yeah, awesome, now c'mon, we need to get out of the crowd," she effortlessly twines her fingers in yours, which you reciprocate happily as you follow her while still going on about the Saja Boys. But when she dares to look back at the boy band, she noticed the black-haired demon in disguise's eyes on you.. and then on her, as if he knew very well what was going on.

When you finally get out of the crowd, you rejoin your other two loves of your life with a cheek kiss for Mira and then a squealing hug with Zoey.

Mira doesn't hesitate to ask as you and the shortest HUNTR/X member basically wrapped yourselves on each other, "Are you okay? They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"Yeah, like, did they ever, I dunno.. suck your soul out or something?" Zoey asked, and then quietly winced as Mira and Rumi both signalled not to say anything with exaggerated expressions and hand gestures behind you.

You giggled at the line of questioning, "What? No? My soul definitely felt like it ascended while watching them, though! You guys are funny."

While you and Zoey were busy clinging onto each other, Rumi pulled Mira in to whisper to her, "They know."

"Know what?"

"That we're linked together in some way? That she's a normal human? I don't know, but they know and I don't want to risk her to find out. Do you?"

And their gazes drift to you as you spoke animatedly with Zoey, equally rambling to you and matching your energy in turn—probably both invested in the situation and also well-aware of the much-needed secret debriefing.

And Mira shook her head with furrowed brows, "Absolutely not."

"Good."

Whenever the girls are all "DON'T FALL FOR THEM" you're so confused bc like. Why?? What's up with them recently???? Ever since the Saja Boys popped up, they've been so weirdly pressed about them every time you brought them up. Like, sure, rivalry's one thing, but you've seen them with rivalries before!!!!! It's not like the Saja Boys have like killed people or smth lmfao it's okay the world's not gonna end if you stan them too (cue the scene with them and Bobby looking at the same city and seeing Two Completely Different Views)

Every time you're ever with them one way or another and the Saja Boys are around/involved they are LOCKING THE FUCK IN. Constantly trying to redirect your attention and theirs like "Do Not Look At Her" and if you ever get too close they'll be all "back the FUCK up actually". And whenever thry try to pull all that hypnotising shit on you they are DRAGGING YOU AWAY and kissing you until you run out of air and forget what you were even thinking about like a min ago 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

They're so much more attentive towards you, and during the two weeks of the Saja Boys being there, you are NOT allowed to be without at LEAST one of them. Why?? Ohhhh yk cuz they just really really miss you, that's all!!!!! They did just come out of a world tour so like they wanna be with you for as much as possible ahahahaha definitely bc the boy band you're fawning over rn are actually demons that want to consume your soul!!! Especially yours!!!!!! Bc they know you're special to them all ahahahahaahahahahahahaahahhaa

Oh but it'd be devastating if Mira and Zoey saw you with the crowd after Rumi's breakdown. Not only Bobby was brainwashed, but so are you, mindlessly following the masses. And as much as they want you to fight it, to remember, they can't even blame you or find the strength; they failed, Rumi hid she was part-demon the entire time, it's over

You'd be one of the people closest to Gwi-Ma's flames on purpose I think—a twisted way for Jinu to make your sacrifice quick and painless. But when Rumi and then Zoey and Mira both clock it? Absolutely the fuck not dude Gwi-Ma just made them even fucking MADDER

At the end of it they know they'll definitely have to explain everything to you, considering. From the Saja boys to Rumi explaining herself properly ALLLLL the way to how they're Hunters and what they do. But at the very least you're not dead thank GOD

"You guys know I don't actually know how to feel right now, right? Finding out that my girlfriends have been constantly getting into near-death experiences as, like, idol ninjas with magic weapons isn't really for the faint of heart—let alone finding out demons and supernatural whatevers are real."

The four of you migrated to Rumi's bed after that whole ordeal at the Tower, tired and exhausted and in need of a good cuddle pile. Right now, you and Rumi were cuddled up against each other, her patterns casting a soft glow on your skin, while Mira was spooning you with her tall frame and Zoey clung onto Rumi like a koala.

The trio had the decency to wince a little, and Mira spoke first in defence, "To be fair, we did get trained for, like, years not to give anything away, including our Hunter profession."

"And I'm your girlfriend," you sighed as your hand traced the jagged glowing lines across Rumi's skin, "I thought we weren't going to hide anything. No wonder sometimes you lot disappear without any explanation—this whole time, you've been.. slaying demons?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You hummed.. before putting your attention on Rumi, "And you. You really think we were going to love you any less because of what you're mixed with?"

"Um. Kinda?" Rumi looked to the side, averting your gazes, "It's-- I was raised to think that I should be ashamed of it, that I need to hide. It's--"

"Why you always have a separate green room?"

"Why you don't go into the batthouse with us?"

Rumi nodded, though not without a flush on her cheeks, "..yeah."

Your gaze softened as you lightly bit your lip before cupping her face for a short but tender kiss, "You think that's gonna really scare me—us—away? Mira and Zoey came back to you after the shock, and I sure as hell don't care if you were part-turtle or whatever--"

"Being part-turtle would be cool! ..Or super slow, depends--"

"My point being," you interrupted Zoey with an affectionate chuckle, "we love you because you're our Rumi. Not an idol, not a demon, just our Rumi—the one that overthinks, overworks and gets so into her head that we'd have to shut it for her. ..No more hiding, yeah?"

Rumi doesn't respond, not for a long while, and thre three of you are content in just laying there in silence, with her patterns casting a brighter yet softer glow on all of you. But eventually she buries her head in your chest, muffling her eventual answer, "..Mhm. Thank you."

Zoey's hold on Rumi tightened as she practically nuzzled into the latter's back, all while Mira reached over to hold Rumi's hand, now back to its human shape compared to the claws she had briefly before. No one else says anything, and that's perfectly fine for the four of you.

"..So I guess I'm retiring from stanning anyone but you guys."

"Obviously!" "Duh." "You are."

[eeriesilkworm]

There's a real possibility we get a Will Byers centric love triangle in ST5

We know the Duffers love a good love triangle.

So much so, they've given us one (or several) in every season of Stranger Things thus far—and I don’t think they’ll break that streak in Season 5.

One thing I’ve noticed is that while some love triangles stretch across multiple seasons (like Steve/Nancy/Jonathan), the writers also introduce at least one new triangle each season.

Here’s a quick breakdown:

S1: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan S2: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Joyce / Hopper / Bob + Lucas / Dustin / Max S3: Robin / Steve / Tammy + Joyce / Hopper / Alexei + Joyce / Hopper / Mr Clarke S4: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Mike / El / Will + Robin / Vickie / Vickie's ex-boyfriend S5: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan (likely resolved) + Mike / El / Will (will come to a head) + ???

Sometimes they’re played straight, but the writers also love to openly mock the love triangle trope, too—especially in Season 3:

For example, Hopper gets irrationally jealous over Joyce talking to Mr Clarke and even Alexei—prompting Joyce’s sarcastic line about how every man she talks to must be her boyfriend. And of course, there's Steve wrongly assuming Robin has a crush on him, then confessing to her, only to find out she actually liked Tammy Thompson.

Basically, there’s no one way the writers use this trope. They clearly enjoy it—but more importantly, they enjoy subverting it.

So, call me delusional but I think it's likely that we could be getting another Will Byers love triangle in Season 5:

He's the main character of the season and his arc will (partially), revolve around his "coming of age" and acceptance of his sexuality, after all.

Will has consistently been portrayed as someone who is considered attractive or desirable in-universe. In every season except Season 3, a girl shows interest in him despite his nerdiness and perceived queerness.

And now, it looks like the Duffer Brothers are visually rebranding him as a romantic lead:

His new hair and costume design feels both heroic and boyish. The flannel—once a staple of his wardrobe and a symbol of his innocence—is slowly being phased out, suggesting a gradual loss of that innocence. However, he’s still buttoned up. That tells me Will is stepping into his manhood (and by extension, his sexuality), but he's still holding something back. He's going to need to be pushed out of his comfort zone; both physically and emotionally.

Even narratively, there are established links which hint at a possible non-Mike love interest:

When we look back at Will’s comment about not falling in love, we often read it as foreshadowing his feelings for Mike—or hinting that he already is in love with him. But I also interpret it as something more: Will doesn’t believe he will ever inspire love (or romantic attraction). He sees himself as undesirable.

Think about the four original members of the Party. Yes, they’re all considered uncool nerds to some degree—yet three of them are affirmed through romantic connection: Lucas has Max. Dustin has Suzie. Mike has El. They each receive validation and the feeling of being wanted.

Will does not.

And yet, the writers have made a consistent effort to show us that Will is considered attractive—despite his belief that he isn’t, and despite the lack of romantic validation he receives. That creates a real disconnect. A kind of cognitive dissonance.

Having Will repeatedly receive attention from girls—only to reject them or appear disinterested—was an effective way to subtly hint at his queerness. But it’s happened so many times now, that there needs to be a payoff.

What is the long-term point of making the canonically gay kid, who already believes he’s undesirable, only receive interest from women?

Er, there isn’t one.

It makes sense, then, to give Will the opportunity to experience mutual same-sex attraction with someone who isn't Mike.

Because Will's arc about accepting his sexuality doesn't just have to culminate in the realization that Mike loves him too (as sweet as that is).

It should culminate with the knowledge that queerness is valid, that he is considered desirable and worthy of romantic interest, and that he isn't alone in experiencing queerness.

Additionally, as mentioned above, Will is already perceived as queer—he’s been bullied for it his entire life, despite never explicitly coming out. Hawkins is a small town where word travels fast. So if there is another young gay guy in town, chances are… they’ve already heard of “Zombie Boy” Will Byers.

He'd certainly be on their radar: he’s good-looking, he’s mysterious, and he’s still closeted, which means he’d likely be discreet.

And let’s not forget where Will was emotionally at the end of Season 4, especially regarding his feelings for Mike:

He’s starting from ground zero in Season 5. He has zero hope that Mike feels the same way, and he’s likely going to be making zero moves.

In fact, most Byler theorists agree—it makes sense that Mike will have to be the initiator in Season 5. Will is just too emotionally shut down to make the first move.

But… wait a minute.

If this season is supposed to be about Will coming into his own as a young gay man—about self-acceptance, confidence, and owning his identity—how does that make sense if Mike is the one initiating everything?!

Well… maybe Mike needs to make the first move when it comes to Byler. But that doesn’t mean Will has to stay passive the whole season.

It’s possible that Will could gain some much-needed confidence—maybe even a bit of romantic “practice”—by taking a more active role with someone else first.

Giving Will a (temporary) new love interest would also level-out the playing field between himself and Mike:

There's a real sense of karmic justice and ironic foreshadowing in Stranger Things.

Will's jealousy of Mike and El's relationship has been hinted at for two seasons now—and he even complained that Mike only called a couple times while El had a "book of letters" from him.

What’s interesting is that even after Mike takes accountability for their argument and they make up, that specific comment—about the phone calls and letters—is never addressed. It lingers.

That’s why I think we could see a similar conversation (or even a full-blown argument) between Mike and Will in Season 5. But this time, Will might be the one receiving phone calls or letters—from someone else.

And let’s not forget: it’s possible that the Byers are temporarily staying with the Wheelers in Season 5. If Will has a secret admirer, and he’s trying to keep it quiet, Mike is going to find out. (Excellent way to manufacture drama).

I also feel compelled to reiterate that the Duffers have shown time and time again: they can handle love triangles in many different ways.

They can play it for comedy. They can make it completely one-sided or delusional—like Mike projecting his own jealousy, much like Hopper did with Joyce in Season 3. A love triangle doesn’t have to be serious or long-lasting. It could span multiple episodes, or just one. It could involve a kiss—or zero physical contact at all.

And it doesn’t have to disrupt a Byler endgame—in fact, quite the opposite:

Seeing Will Byers receive romantic attention from another male character would serve as a reminder to the audience that Will is desirable and that he has options—this increases the stakes for Mike.

The GA will start wondering if this is really Will's endgame, and if he is truly ready to get over Mike. The GA, especially those who never shipped Byler before, may find themselves unexpectedly invested. They might even feel disappointed or sad at the thought of Will "moving on."

It also creates space for the writers to show us jealous Mike. Just as we've seen jealous, longing Will, a temporary love triangle allows us to explore Mike’s feelings through that same lens of romantic insecurity.

This brings the possibility of Byler to the forefront of the GA's subconscious. At the same time, it invites them to root for Mike, and therefore Byler.

[astarioffsimpmain]

My love 😭🫂 I'm honored to be on your list. 🥹 As I'm sure you know already, you're on mine too!

Thank you, @senualothbrok , for the fic that spoke my heart more than anything else I've ever read: "The Difference" It inspired me to write my own story in a way I didn't think possible until I'd seen it done by you, and thank you for then becoming one of my best friends in the world; always supportive, always kind, always lovely in more ways than you may ever know. You're my sister now, whether you like it or not. 😆💕

I'm thanking @optimisticgrey for her series "All We Have is Each Other" for helping sate my ever fervent desire for isekai and reverse isekai fics, and her other series, "A Song of Love and Loss", for giving me a poly-trio that I never knew I needed in Celeste, Gale, and Halsin. Thank you also for making me laugh when I'd rather cry. ❤️

I'd also like to thank @fanon-and-canon for her fic "For You, My Heart", which is a Halsin/Tav period comfort fic. You and I have talked plenty about our painful periods, and I've reread this fic several times when I'm having a really rough one. Thank you also for your unwavering support and understanding while I'm going through all of my medical bullshit. 🫂

Lastly, I want to thank @brabblesban for her fic "Whither is Thy Beloved Gone?" for giving me the opportunity to widen my scope and understanding of Ascended Astarion, and the difficult, but necessary, journey he could take after becoming the vampire ascendant. I never would have given him a chance without you. And thank you for being my longest friend in this fandom. It was by your encouragement that I continued to write and try to find my place here. 🥹

~

This list will get longer as I continue to read/catch up on fics and series. I'm having a rough go of it, so it may be a while. But I did want to finally finish this post. Love you all ❤️

my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day

[seleneprince]

REBORN

Gotham Cathedral, Spring.

A majestic silence reigns around her, interrupted only by the occasional sound of the giant bell ringing above her.

She would like to think is because people have finally learnt to respect her space and stopped butting their noses into her bussiness.

But no. The truth is that the church is basically empty at this hour. The only other people are old ladies and some last-minute sinner in need of confession. It's quite normal in Gotham. We all become sinners eventually, she thinks. It's unavoidable.

The first days she started to come here for her prayer hours after her accident, people whispered non-stop when she passed by and could barely conceal their stares. Shocked to see her out of all people in a cathedral. A holy place.

"I didn't know Lady Wayne was so devoted."

"I don't think she's ever been in a church before."

"How...surprising of her to step so confidently into the Lord's holy place. She certainly lacks some self-awareness."

The sheer hypocrisy delights her as much as it infuriates her.

Because first of all, who are they to question her faith? Just because she doesn't make a show out of it doesn't mean it's up to debate. She's always been taught that one's faith is meant to be private and personal. It's not a reason to boast.

Which is why she's always looked down on those people who praise the Lord's name and present themselves as "true" Christians just for appearances or to give themselves a reason for their self-righteousness.

In reality, they're the ones completely devoid of any self-awareness.

"Either that or she just doesn't care about seeming direspectful. I mean, we all know the kind of woman she is."

"I heard she's not like that anymore. Apparently, she's changed a lot since the accident. Everyone says so. It's bizarre."

"Yeah. She's behaving surprisingly well lately. There hasn't been a scandal since."

"Maybe she hit her head so badly it reprogrammed her whole personality."

Idiots. If only they knew...

Well, guess she can't really fault them for not knowing. After all, there's no way they can even imagine the truth behind her change.

"Maybe that's not really her and we're just seeing someone else with her face."

"Sure. Or maybe she actually died on the accident and her body is currently possessed by an incredibly nice spirit."

They have no idea.

She raises her eyes to the cross in front of her, its figure looming over her head as if watching, where the image of the Lord was carved in a typical representation of the moment He died for humanity's sins.

The most remembered moment of His life. This is the first thing that pops into people's minds when they think of Him. Not all the good actions, not His endless kindness, His banter with the disciplines, His sense of humour, how He dedicated his life to help the poor and stood for what was right. Not even His beautiful relationship with His family. His mother, His father Joseph, even His siblings.

No. Instead, He'll be mostly remembered like this. In His death, with iron drilled into His body and bleeding out between two criminals. Sacrificing His life for sins that weren't His.

The Bible is full of passages depicting His humanity, His miracles, yet this moment is what will be forever His symbol.

Most people claim it's meant to be a reminder of how big His heart was. Of how He became a martyr.

To her, it's always felt more like a lesson.

That no matter how good you are and how much of yourself you give for others, you'll still get screwed over by those more powerful than you if they want to. That doing the right thing won't always be rewarded.

In the end, people value life the most when it's gone.

The thing about martyrs, she thinks, is that they have to die to be worshipped.

She makes one last prayer under her breath before standing up, sealing it with a kiss to the cross that dangles from her neck, putting back under her coat. She walks around the bench quietly as to not disturb the others and makes her way to the exit in the shadows.

Her phone vibrates again in her pocket. She pulls it out to see the several missed calls, messages, e-mails and the news.

On top of all, one name persists.

A name she wishes to never think of again.

Mr Wayne🙄

Where are you?

Seriously, where are you?

Don't you dare ignore me now.

You can't be serious.

I just found it laying on my desk this morning. Is this some sick joke of yours?

It better be.

I swear to God, where the fuck are you?? You can't just leave like this!

Those gossips don't know how close their little jokes are to the truth.

Because she didn't just change. She wasn't reprogrammed.

She catches her reflection in one of the windows. Her face, her hair, her body, even the way she moves. She still looks the same as before. Healthy and confident.

Except it's not her. Not really.

This body isn't hers. Just like the clothes. Just like the man pestering her on the phone. None of this belongs to her.

It's from that woman with her same name and face that died several weeks ago.

Mr Wayne 🙄

What do you mean with "divorce"??

Gotham City High School

They're still talking.

It's been several weeks but they haven't stopped. In fact, she'll say it's gotten worse.

Before, it was just whispers behind her back and poorly concealed side-eyes. Now, they've taken to brazenly stare at her like she's some exotic animal, even approaching her at times to ask about her health, only to step back when she answers with a gentle smile, their eyes reflecting something between horror and fascination.

She found it amusing at first. Their faces looked so stupid at time she had to supress her laugh a lot.

But it's getting annoying now.

Whenever she goes, whenever she looks, they're there. Muttering, blinking at her, trying to strike clumsy converstations as if she's some long-lost friend who finally returned. All while keeping their distance and staring at her unnervingly.

Sometimes, she feels like a desecrated creature on display.

A pair of girls stand straighter when she passes by, following her with their eyes wide open. She catches the magazine one of them is holding, reading the bold letters in the cover title.

"Wayne heiress's lavish purchases turned into secret charity donations? Follow Vicky Vale's interviews to witnesses for more!"

Of course. The media doesn't help the insanity.

(Good to know Vale is a monumental pain in the ass in every life)

She sighs, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. It's flashy and clearly expensive. Something made to draw attention to the teenage girl who wears it...and subtitly brag about her money.

In another life, she wouldn't have ever come to school with this thing, not even her mum wouldn't allow it. But everything is different now, isn't it?

To be honest, she can't really hold it against these guys for acting the way they do. From their perspective, this must be some kind of fever dream.

She knows her current behaviour clashes greatly with what everyone else is used to from her.

"She's gone mad. There's no other explanation."

"I don't know. She seems to be the same, but nicer."

"Seriously? She's already made three teachers cry from arguing about the lessons with them. Poor Miss Terris was about to faint!"

Yeah, well, she's not going to stay quiet when people who are expected to educate and prepare them for the future teach their damn subjects wrong.

Plus, Miss Terris's lessons were poorly structured and boring anyway. It was for the best.

"Didn't she also disagreed with Mr Johns so badly that he took a whole day off in the middle of class?"

"Oh my god, yes. Luke told me about it. She questioned his thesis for the PhD and started scrutinizing each point like she was grading the damn thesis herself. Apparently, half the arguments didn't stand and it lacked solid references."

"I saw the poor man afterwards. He looked like he was rethinking his whole existence."

That guy should've thought better before writing his thesis on cybersecurity, the one field she’s studied, mastered, and dominated for years. Reading that thing hurt her eyes more than her correction hurt his feelings.

Next time, he won't ignore her questions and shame her in front of the whole class. A time off sounds perfect for self-reflection.

"How can someone like her know so much about cybersecurity anyway? Enough to criticise a professional about it?"

"It's weird. I mean, do you remember the last time she talked back to teachers?"

"No. She's never interrupted lessons, much less to call them out on it. And she's actually right most of the time! It makes no sense."

Because she was a spoiled little brat who lowered her head at the first sign of dissapointment from adults and ran off to her mother to fight the battles for her.

Now she's a spoiled brat with a backbone.

But she understands their confusion. They have every reason for it. Ever since her return, she's been a walking contradiction of everything they've seen and known from her. A mystery.

Really, she's only annoyed when they invade her space with their antics. If you're going to speculate and gossip, do it quietly when the person in question can't hear you. Otherwise you look stupid and attention-seeking.

Or even better: Keep your thoughts to yourselves and let people live, geez.

She wonders if this the kind of attention she would've liked, once upon a time. Maybe this is what that part of her craved so bad. Or maybe she was content either way. Bad attention is still attention and all of that.

From afar, she spots Stephanie staring at her, arms crossed and eyebrows pinched in suspicion. She's no doubt thinking the worst of her, expecting a tantrum at any moment or anything that exposes whatever "scheme" she must have in mind.

Anything to remind everyone how rotten the spoiled Wayne heiress is.

"Do you think...she lost her memories somehow and doesn't remember how to act?"

"Don't be stupid, Kevin. If she lost her memories, she wouldn't even know where she is. Nah, this girl is perfectly fine. Probably just faking for attention again."

She snorts quietly. She can't help it.

Their theories aren't so far fetched. Just lacking a little twist.

Because it's not that she lost her memories.

She actually gained more.

As they wonder about her true motives and the reasons behind her change, none of them can come close to the truth.

That the girl they know died. Literally. Several weeks ago, her heart stopped beating as she bled out in the ice.

And somehow, she came back....with her soul and conscience fused to someone else's.

Wayne Manor

She hasn't moved from the greenhouse in twenty minutes.

Or so she thinks. She hasn't checked the time once since she arrived.

Everyone else is out, doing whatever they usually do at this hour. School, work, send criminals to the ER. Only Alfred is still around the manor.

And herself.

She should be at school now too, but claimed sickness and refused to leave her room. Alfred was worried about her and tried to pry, but her mother and sister covered her. They understood.

How can they not?

It wasn't until she knew for sure it was only Alfred left that she gathered courage to step out, heading towards the one place that has always made her feel safe.

The manor's greenhouse.

A botanical dream come true that only rich people can afford, and her personal paradise. It's supposed to be one of the Wayne's prides, but no one is interested in caring for plants in this family anymore. Only she and Alfred.

Well, maybe Damian too, but he barely shows up since she frequents the place, sticking to his precious farm instead.

She prefers it this way. It allows her to have the place all for herself. It's her corner to hide in when the world becomes too much, the familiar scent of her beloved flowers soothing her like a lullaby just for her ears.

And right now, the world is a lot bigger and more devastating that it's ever been.

It's been days. Long, excruciating days of processing what happened, what it means. Assimilating how things are now. Trying to get through the new routine without crashing out, despite being all she wants to do since she woke up.

Mum jumped right into action as soon as she got a hold over their new situation, and her older sister handled it as she handles everything: Adapting and somehow finding a way to benefit from it.

She envies them for it. For being able to go on with their new lives almost normally while she's still stuck repeating the same scene in her head over and over. What she saw, what she felt.

That's why she needed to come here. Nature has never dissapointed her. She loves her plants and all the green that surrounds her in a explosion of beauty she's nurtured over the years. In times of sorrow, it's her passion what comforted her, along with her family.

When you learn about mother nature, you understand everything follows a pre-established cycle that pushes it all forward, regardless of whatever obstacles there might be. It's about balance within the chaos. No one can evade it.

It's reassuring, to know that no matter what happens, you can trust nature to always find a way to fulfill its rules.

It's a shame my favourite color in the world is the same as certain asshole's eyes. Such beauty wasted on that demon, she bitterly recalls.

She inhales, taking in the scent of wet grass and some freshly bloomed flowers. It's the middle of Spring, after all. The season of life and rebirth, when all that died in winter blooms back with the same beauty as before, as if they never withered in the first place.

Just like she did.

Like the three of them did.

How deliciously ironic that it happened in Spring out of all. Maybe this is really mother nature's work, once again finding a way to restore the balance.

Or maybe it's some wicked game from the universe to make our lives even harder, her inner voice supplies.

She has no idea.

All she knows is that she should be dead. In fact, she vividly remembers dying, exhaling her last breath. Right on cue, she feels a sharp sting from her inner wrists. She rubs the pained zone over the bandage she put on herself.

It's a reminder of the incredibly dark motive behind her new life. Her second chance, as Mum said it is.

The death she remembers happened a lifetime ago....but the pain on her wrists belongs to someone's else death.

This greenhouse has been her paradise in another life, and her grave in this one.

And still..

What a beautiful place to part from, she can't help but think.

All of it, without ever noticing the shadow watching her back, still and silent in a corner of her sacred place. Waiting. Guessing. Or just looking.

a/n: Prologue for my uncoming Yandere! Batfam reincarnation au...with possible other Yandere! DC characters and my other ocs included in it because why not lmao I've been reading too many reincarnation of villainesses webtoons recently, so, here we are now

@la-patrona-magdalena (la culpable de este au, the enabler)

Taglist (for those who showed interest in this au first, thank you for the comments!): @therealme13posts, @coldilikeit, @like-thechocolate

[howitcouldgoes]

for all my ragatha haters out there

I am not one of them

I love Ragatha - in fact I'm a firm believer if you hate Ragatha.. you kind of have to hate Jax too. I can understand where potential confusion might come from since despite this episode focusing more on Ragatha's past compared to Jax's we do get to hear most of it through Jax's perspective. Which leads me to believe personally ep. 6 will be the opposite. Jax's backstory and how Ragatha will react to that information.

But still, Ragatha is one of the most human characters out of the whole cast(tied with Gangle) to me personally. She feels the need to be happy and positive NOT BECAUSE she's trying to manipulate anyone - but because she doesn't want anyone to focus on the negative and abstract. That's her method of keeping herself and everyone else sane. Almost blind encouragement and a positive attitude things will turn out okay - because what else is there?

She seems the closest to Kinger whose whole mentality is "The worst thing you could do in this world is make someone feels unloved or unwanted." and to hold onto memories and connections because they're all we have.

And then you have her mother - who is her only memory. She grew up with someone who made her feel like shit, unloved and unwanted - Ragatha confesses this when she literally says "And my mother... I doubt she misses me."

No Ragatha is not perfect, but she was forced to be in her childhood and early adult life.

I genuinely don't believe she's trying to manipulate anyone - and especially not intentionally.

Ragatha's positive attitude towards Pomni and her friendliness is because she sees herself in the jester - in Ep. 2 Ragatha confides in Kinger about this on the candy truck, seeing how horrible of a day Pomni had when she first got here and compared it to her negative reaction when she first arrived too. She's not trying to steal her from Jax or force her to be happy all the time - the only reason she retaliates with something like that is because she believes Jax is trying to turn Pomni bad - and the last thing she or anyone needs is a second Jax.

So her jealously in Ep. 5 when Jax is growing close to her - IN THE MATTER OF A FEW MINUTES BTW - when Ragatha has tried for four episodes now to befriend her is killing her.

Hence why she's so relatable. Ragatha's inability to get angry without consequences(most likely from her mother), raised to be happy and perfect, humbling herself quickly by calling herself just a farm girl - is why people now think she's tricking everyone - but that's just it. She is just a girl, and by the sound of her and how Ep. 5 ended - she grew up with absolutely no friends.

It brings us back to that question we all had at some point in our lives: "Why does no one like me?" "Why does no one want to be friends with me?" "Is it me?" "Am I the problem?"

Ragatha watches Pomni, the girl she wanted to befriend so badly not out of pity or a selfish desire but because she thought Pomni was lonely just like her - walk away with Jax. And then watches Zooble and Gangle walk off with Kinger mindlessly following because he doesn't care and we see her standing all alone.

And there she debates: Does she want to keep pestering Jax and Pomni? Like a bother? Like she finds him annoying but here she is anyway chasing after him..

or does she follow the trio that didn't even realize she got left behind?

I love this little Raggedy Anne look-alike because I see so much of myself in her. She just wants to be good and yet that overly positive attitude and friendliest over the years is growing tired and annoying and the only person willing to tell her that isn't even Jax. Not directly anyway. With no one to tell her what to do - how to improve - what can be done differently - Ragatha can only keep asking herself those same questions and keep trying with the same approach.

Jax may be my favorite character - but I just don't agree with his view on Ragatha. I think she's a delight.

But if you deadass just hate Ragatha because she's annoying to you, or boring, then okay idc disregard the above-

btw i know ive been spamming so much tadc this might be my last post temporarily but i wanna make a few things clear for ppl who shockingly hate my girl

[indecisive-gm]

Jaren awoke with a start. Sitting up, they quickly looked around. The room looked like some kind of study, with scrolls and books filling the shelves along the walls. The paper walls seemed week enough; maybe they could escape from--whatever this place was--before their captors noticed.

Captors. They must be fairies, right? The last thing Jaren could remember before waking up here was going out into the forest to gather herbs and hearing a muffled voice as the forest around them faded to black. It wasn't a drug--that would have been recognizable with Jaren's experience as a healer. The darkness had been some kind of illusion magic like that which the fair folk use. They must have chosen Jaren as their next victim, having seen them come to the forest so regularly. If Jaren had been kidnapped by fairies, they would need to keep their wits about them to avoid falling further into their traps.

Tearing through the wall, Jaren was ready to make a run for it, but had to quickly stop themself from falling off a cliff. This couldn't be right, the fair folk never stray far from the forests. If her captors had taken her up into the mountains, then they couldn't be fairies. But then, who--

"It would be rather rude to run off so soon."

Jaren turned around. The building was farther back than it should have been, and a robed figure now stood only a few paces behind them. This was the person who had kidnapped them? Jaren readied a spell, hoping the old man wouldn't recognize it for the harmless show that it was. "Stay back! I've studied the magical arts well. I don't want either of us to get hurt, so don't move, and don't try to follow me."

The figure shrugged. "Alright. I'll stay right here. Though I would appreciate if you would stay and talk over coffee."

The man's words meant nothing. Even if he actually had such a rare plant as coffee, it seemed like too convenient an excuse to drug Jaren into being an easy captive to be ransomed off to the nearest magic university or to be sold to some warlord who was looking for a new mage. They backed their way to the cliffside, then jumped. They had never really wanted to go adventuring or fight in wars, so they never actually studied any flight spells or spells to soften a landing, but hopefully strenthening their bones would hold them together well enough after hitting the ground to mend the damage from the fall.

Thud. Fortunately, the pain of the fall was somewhat masked by having all the wind knocked out of them. The plan had worked, but as Jaren looked up, they saw that they were in the same place as before, with the man and the tower standing before them as if to mock them.

The man shook his head. "That was a rather clever use of your healing magic, though if I may ask, why didn't you simply fly away?"

"None of your business." New strategy. This time, Jaren strengthened the muscles in their legs before jumping as far as they could. Being lost in the forest wouldn't be ideal, but it would be better than being someone's prisoner to be used for money or as a weapon. As they were about to hit the ground, Jaren closed their eyes and braced for impact.

Again, they had landed back next to the tower in the mountains. "As impressive as your skills are," the old man said, "you're just going to tire yourself out like this."

Jaren was learning to hate this guy. "Let me leave, or I'll kill you!", they shouted.

The man simply stepped forward towards them. "I think we both know you won't." Jaren was stunned. "I've been looking for an apprentice for some time. Coffee does it's wonders, but eternal youth isn't one of them. And you." The man pointed a finger at Jaren's chest. "I've been very satisfied with the care you show in your magic."

"Apprentice? Who do you think you--"

"The world needs witchknights, after all." Witchknights. Jaren had taken them to just be stories for children. Masters of the magical and martial arts, some of whom had supposedly conquered vast lands or worked as advisors to powerful rulers, while others had fought against the powerful to give back to those with nothing or even abandoned the world altogether.

The man sighed. "Fine. I see you need proof." Suddenly, there was a sword stuck through Jaren's leg. The bone was still strong enough from their spell before to not be cut through, but the pain was horrible. Before they even had time to scream, a portal opened beneath them, and they fell through what must have been a layer of the underworld before landing in the open top room of the tower with various animated suits of armor pointing swords and pikes at them.

The suits of armor walked to their displays by the stairs, and the witchknight came to Jaren to help them up. Jaren was about to cast a spell to heal their leg, but felt the familiar feeling of a healing spell already taking effect on it. "You know," said the old man, "dispite the stories I'm sure you know, violence is actually a small part of being a witchknight. Now, about that coffee."

--

Finishing the mug of coffee, Jaren spoke. "So to make sure I'm understanding this, witchknights exist, and you've basically kidnapped me to get me to preserve your ancient form of the magical and martial arts?"

"That sounds about right," the man responded. "Though I would like to say, I didn't have much choice in the matter. If I were to try to teach some other mage, how do you think that would go? So many of them nowadays are too absorbed by power and where that can take them. It would be next to impossible for me to teach them, and there would be a serious risk of having a new story like those about witchknight conquerers abusing their power and ignoring the world around them."

Jaren still felt wronged by the whole situation, but this old witchknight was right about that much: A lot of Jaren's former classmates probably would have learned what they could and run off to use their abilities for power for themselves. Still, there were always calmer ones. Jaren didn't know any others who were completely pacifist, but surely the witchhunter wasn't that strained of options.

At that moment, there was a flash of light from down the stairs and the sound of someone approaching. Jaren started to get up, but the witchknight just gestured for them to remain seated. "Mjorgan! Mjorgan you bastard, where are you!", a voice called as footsteps came up the wooden steps. A tall, slender man in a suit and cape reached the top of the stairs and turned to the witchknight. "Mjorgan! There you are! I-- who is this?"

"Excellent question, Archsage!" The witchnight--Mjorgan, apparently--glanced towards Jaren. "My friend, would you like to introduce yourself?"

First a mythical witchnight, now the archsage was here? "I'm Jaren, sir... I'm Mjorgan's new apprentice." The room was silent for a moment. Moreso than when Jaren and Mjorgan had been drinking their coffee.

After a few seconds, the archsage spoke. "Well, I suppose it's about time you picked an apprentice, but why now? I've come here several times before to try to convince you to take any of the brightest mages our universities have to offer, but you choose now of all times?"

"I believe I chose the right time to do so, Alfred," Mjorgan responded. "Now, what business did you have with me? I'd like to get to lessons for my student sometime today."

"Ah, yes." The archsage gave a curt nod, showing some annoyance at his treatment by Mjorgan. "I came here to ask if you would join my advisory council for..." A glance in Jaren's direction told them not to get involved. "...necessary audience."

"It must be serious if you're coming to bother me."

"It's about her."

Mjorgan suddenly looked incredibly serious. "...Alright. I'll meet with you tomorrow morning to discuss this further." He waved his hand, and the Archsage disappeared in a puff of smoke.

With how the archsage spoke and Mjorgan's response, Jaren could tell that this was probably something very bad. "Should I know what that was about?"

The witchknight looked up at them. "No. Maybe some other time, but for the time being, it's best that you not get involved in this. Besides," he stood up and headed towards the stairs, "we need to start your training."

OK,

I didn't realize I was going to be writing so much (good prompt), but I'm probably going to need to stop here for now and hope that I can get myself to continue this story later.

witchknights are unmatched in magical and martial arts. Unlike the rest of your peers you wanted to study healing magic and medicine not war and violence. So when the witchknight chose you everyone was confused, Even the archsage himself.

[checkeredflagggs]

+1s

Pairing: logan sargeant x reader

summary: When a member of Logan’s team gets married in Vegas, he invites the new wife and her bff to travel with him as his Williams guests. He didn’t know being a +1 would also see him in love

a/n:this took so much longer than I thought it would…oops 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: made up some names for Williams workers — sorry if you’re actually real

a/n3: this is set in 2023 and I switched Austin and Vegas in the racing calendar

a/n4: sorry this was later than I said — the heat was brutal

Masterlist

Private Messages, Logan and Jon

Private Messages, Logan and Jon (2 hours later)

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n (4 hours later)

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

user1: Vegas just literally became my favorite track

↳user2: where else are we gonna get content like this??

↳user1: right???

user3: bets on who it is?

↳user4: level mode extreme because most of them were partying together…

↳user5: ok time to put on my crazy hat and deep dive — I need to know which driver was crazy enough to get Vegas married

↳user4: ok but no one said it was a driver? Like they specifically said f1 employee which makes me think it wasn’t a driver

↳user5: ohhhh good point good point

↳user3: ok but i need it to be a driver???

user6: I think it’s gonna be a redbull employee

↳user7: reasoning?

↳user6: they have nothing to worry about

↳user7: I can see it

↳user8: i think it’s gonna be a Ferrari employee

↳user9: plot twist it’s both

↳user10: that would be fucking hilarious

user11: other gossip pages are apparently reporting that Logan was spotted leaving the party early

↳user12: DID LOGAN GET MARRIED?!?

↳user13: I can’t believe wtf is a kilometer is married…

↳user14: tbh not the driver I would have bet on but I can see it

↳user13: same

Bluesky

user15: 😂😂😂😂

user16: the tweet format to live in infamy

oscarpiastri: really?

↳logansargeant: shouldn’t have been so funny if you didn’t want us to copy you

↳oscarpiastri: 😒😑

user17: oh my god we really thought that Logan got married

↳logansargeant: really appreciate the faith

↳user17: of course!

↳logansargeant: 😑😑

alex_albon: I had faith in you!

↳logansargeant: thank you Alex

↳lilymhe: he didn’t — he was texting me his theories and you were near the top of the list

↳logansargeant: 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

↳user18: oh my god this is the best ever

Private Messages, Logan/Jon/Wendy and y/n

wendy_travel

liked by travel_with_yn, jon_pr, logansargeant, and 827,193 others

tagged: jon_pr

wendy_travel: honeymoon in Mexico 

view all comments

user19: married?!? Girl what

↳user20: oh my god your the girl!

↳user21: what girl?? 

↳user20: the f1gossip page girl! There was a rumor someone in f1 got married in Vegas last week and this is the wife! 

↳user21: oh my god that’s so cute!

jon_pr: paradise with you

↳wendy_travel: always when I’m with you

↳travel_with_yn: cheesy

travel_with_yn

liked by logansargeant, user, user, and 3,824,293 others

tagged: channel, summer_fridays, google

travel_with_yn: traveling in style with my trusted companions! The best to travel with, the best to look good, and the best to find my way!

view all comments

user22: oh my god you always look so good!

↳travel_with_yn: thanks in large part to my summer fridays berry lip gloss!

logansargeant: glad you could come

↳travel_with_yn: thanks for asking!

↳logansargeant: now that you’ve met some of the grid — do we still have the same vibes?

↳travel_with_yn: You? No. The rest? Mostly

oscarpiastri: it was nice to meet you two

↳travel_with_yn: you too!

↳oscarpiastri: now if you could give me my hat back?

↳travel_with_yn: sorry I need it more

↳logansargeant: trash it — I’ll give you a better one liked by travel_with_yn, oscarpiastri

alex_albon: always nice to meet new fans!

↳travel_with_yn: I don’t know if I’d go that far yet…

↳alex_albon: but you were in my garage all weekend?

↳travel_with_yn: cause I was flirting with Lily?

↳lilymhe: loml 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

user23: best Williams guest!

↳user24: it was so fun seeing you on the big screen!

↳travel_with_yn: they definitely got my good side!

↳user25: impossible for you to have a bad one!

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

user26: they look so happy most of the time though…

user27: if you go on YouTube, there’s actual footage of that argument…it’s bad

↳user28: oh my god really?

↳user27: it really is. It goes on for like 20/30 minutes

↳user28: yikes…

user29: girl dump his ass

user30: this is why Vegas weddings never work out

↳user31: really?

↳user32: well spontaneous weddings

user33: i wanna know what rumors are swirling around to get to the gossip page

↳user34: right??? Cause like what’s happening that we can’t see?

Private Messages, Logan and Jon

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

williamsracing

liked by travel_with_yn, logansargeant, and 1,829,293 others

tagged: travel_with_yn

williamsracing: Brazil here we come! And thanks for all the traveling tips y/n!

view all comments

user35: and looking good doing it!

user36: I love Brazil

travel_with_yn: you guys certainly know how to treat a girl right, of course I’ll offer some tips

↳williamsracing: anything for one of our favorite guests

↳user37: ok what do I need to do to get this treatment?

↳user38: idk but I’m laughing that it isn’t the wife of one of their pr people that’s getting the red carpet treatment

↳user37: omg I didn’t even notice. I wonder what Wendy is thinking about it…

↳user39: shes probably too busy fighting with her husband to notice

alex_albon: you guys never post me like this

↳travel_with_yn: skill issue

↳alex_albon: I didn’t sign up to be bullied!

↳logansargeant: it’s a service she offers for free

user50: you guys thought we wouldn’t notice! But we did!  

↳user51: ummmm notice what?

↳user50: that Jon and Wendy (the Vegas couple) spent a lot of the weekend arguing with each other

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 682,384 others

f1gossip: Logan on a date? The American driver was seen at a local Austin Japanese restaurant — with an empty but occupied seat next to him

view all comments

user52: that was supposed to be me!

↳user53: or me…

user54: ok are we thinking date date or friend date?

↳user55: I desperately want it to be a date date because I need relationship Logan…

↳user56: on the other hand I need it to be a friend date so I still have a chance!

user57: ok but conspiracy theory time — I think its gonna be y/n!

↳user58: the travel influencer that’s been at the Williams garage lately?

↳user57: ok hear me out first — we know they’ve been spending a lot of time together recently because of Jon and Wendy (Vegas couple who’s their besties)

↳user57: and I’d imagine they’re getting the front row seat to the implosion of their marriage — and having been there, done that — you get close to people also going through it

↳user57: and if you go back through the pictures and videos of Austin and Brazil — they spend a lot of time together in the background

↳user58: …ok you got me

↳user57: just you wait and see

user59: wtf is a kilometer looks so good here!

↳user60: that’s what I was thinking!!

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

williamsracing

liked by travel_with_yn, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,213,274 others

tagged: logansargeant

williamsracing: Logan points here in Austin!! We repeat — Logan points!

view all comments

user61: this is everything I’ve ever wanted

↳user62: OUR AMERICAN DID IT!

oscarpiastri: congratulations man

↳logansargeant: thanks!

user63: LOGAN POINTS LOGAN POINTS!!

alex_albon: show ‘em how it’s done!

↳logansargeant: you know it!

user64: caw caw mofos!!! 🦅🦅

travel_with_yn: it was a genuine pleasure to watch you race today

↳logansargeant: you must be my lucky charm!

↳user57: interesting interesting 📝

user65: WOOHOO!!

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

Private Messages, Wendy and y/n

logansargeant

liked by travel_with_yn, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 772,923 others

tagged: williamsracing, alex_albon

logansargeant: as the season comes to a close, I just want to thank everyone at williamsracing for the amazing chance to drive for you. It was a rocky start but we’ll definitely come back stronger next year! With hopefully less excitement at Vegas 😂

view all comments

alex_albon: it was a great time having you as a teammate this year!

↳logansargeant: it was definitely great being teammates!

user66: I’ve only had this American for a season but if something happened to him etc etc

oscarpiastri: first year done, more to come!

↳logansargeant: can’t wait for them!

user67: ok are we all skipping over the last picture or???

↳user68: no no we are not! Logan Sargeant come explain yourself!

↳user57: if I may??

↳user69: you may not!

↳user57: it’s definitely y/n!

travel_with_yn: it was certainly a pleasure traveling with you these last few weeks!

↳logansargeant: excellent

Private Messages, Logan/Wendy/Jon and y/n

travel_with_yn

liked by wendy_travel, logansargeant, user, and 829,439 others

travel_with_yn: no traveling necessary when I’m with you

view all comments

user70: a soft launch?!?

↳user71: not on my bingo card for the year..

↳user70: but I love it!

user57: I’m telling you guys!

↳user72: alright there grandma…

logansargeant: 🩵

↳user73: oh my god!!

logansargeant has posted 3 stories

[back with benny][ Vegas here we come][forever with you yn_sargeant]

user74 replied BENNY!!

user75 replied Benny Benny Benny!!

user76 replied what are you and Benny doing together?!?

travel_with_yn replied oh you look so handsome…

↳logansargeant oh I’m blushing ☺️

oscarpiastri replied are you really going to do it?

↳logansargeant yes

↳oscarpiastri crazy man but good luck

alex_albon replied you’re getting married and you didn’t even invite me???

↳logansargeant 😂sorry but it is a bit of a spur of the moment decision — we’ll have an actual ceremony soon

↳alex_albon good! I’d like to see you and yn again

↳logansargeant …she says she’s excited to see Lily again

↳alex_albon 🙄🙄

user77 replied MARRIAGE?!?

jon_pr replied are you sure?

↳logansargeant I’ve never been more sure in my life

↳jon_pr well at least it’s not a drunk one

↳logansargeant 😂

user78 replied Alexa play that should be me

yn_sargeant replied oh my lovely husband — here’s to forever

↳logansargeant thankfully 😊😊

georgerussell63 replied congratulations 🎉

↳logansargeant thanks man! Be on the look out for an invitation — we’ll be having a real ceremony soonish

wendy_travel replied treat her well

↳logansargeant I will

user57 replied I KNEW IT!!

Taglist

@daniskywalkersolo @thenerdysimp @quinquinquincy @lecfosimaxbull @gr3yhues @armystay89 @simplylovelysworld @mimisweetz @angelluv16 @hamiltonforwdc @alexxavicry @suns3treading @ymrereads @monzipan @stuffyownswrld @kuolonsyoja @ky14-1 @devilacot @justheretoreadthxxs @minrayven @albonoracers @hc-dutch @somerandomf1fan @purplephantomwolf @shadowreader07 @spilled-coffee-cup @galaxygurlll l @anamiad00msday @freyathehuntress @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @ihaveitprinteddout @deena-beena-weena @lilyofthevalley-09 @nightrose-18 @kodeelyn @star73807-blog @avengers-assemble123456 @howling-wolf97 @boke-hinata-boke @hannahmotors10 @mountainshuman @daisydaze111 @evie-119 @shadowreader07 @r0nnsblog @1800-love-me @edgyficuselastica @everydayimagineer

[danadiadea]

Yeah. Because Severus should have asked LORD VOLDEMORT TO SPARE a boy Voldemort believes to be predestined to KILL HIM. listen, Snape is suicidal, but he isn't dumb, and he wouldn't want to die from Voldemort's hand so uselessly, yk? too bad you want Snape to be stupid as fuck, sorry he doesn't meet the demand.

Severus CAN'T *physically* ask for Lily's life IN EXCHANGE for Harry's. Albus is saying utter manipulative bullshit here, because he needs a spy and he needs to guilt trip this 20yo boy who is in an extremely susceptible state right now. Voldemort isn't targeting Lily. He is targeting HARRY. Harry's life can't be "exchanged", because letting him live is obviously out of question for Voldemort at this point. I like Snapemort, and I see you're a big fan too, since you think Snape could tell the Dark Lord what to do and basically ask a maniac obsessed with living forever "take a chance of dying cause I said so pls🥺" and get away with it, but lets bring that discussion back to the canon information and not whatever delusional images of Voldemort and Snape you came up with in your head.

And Voldemort did act on Severus' request. He didn't refuse Snape – he gave Lily a legitimate chance to escape she decided not to take. We are literally never told Voldemort said "no". It was already extremely brave of Snape to ask a madman to spare Lily – it was an insane level of bravery and selflessness to come to Dumbledore after that (which must have been immediately or at least really fast, otherwise Voldemort would kill or kidnap Potters before they could go in hiding, that wouldn't have taken him much time), risking his life for people who should've meant less than nothing to him, realistically.

And are you missing the fact that he is STANDING IN FRONT OF D U M B L E D O R E in the scene you quote he came to willingly to give him this information because you are unable to process the text you read, or just to piss me off? He initially gave Albus information

about

all

of

them

being in danger.

Whatever he fucking said to Voldemort, he came to Albus after that and warned him. Believing Albus could kill him. Knowing he'd most likely go to Azkaban if Voldemort loses at this point. And getting absolutely nothing from it, whatever shit you are willing to invent (like Snape who is extremely good in potions and dark arts couldn't make Lily enter a relationship with him unwillingly if he wanted to, lmao. guess fucking what, he didn't do this. you are unable to understand that Severus isn't braindead, therefore he'd give Voldemort a reason to spare her Voldemort himself is able to understand to some degree and find harmless enough for him. it's called evaluating context, you should try it one day).

So unfortunately, Severus did care about Lily.

Marauders fans just be having double standards on the point they proud themselves the most on: Diversity

They be like "let's make James brown" (ik that it's in the whole fandom in general but ykwim) and reject the Jewish-looking guy

They be like "let's make Lily obese" and reject the underweight guy

They be like "let's make Regulus abused" and reject the canonically abused guy

They be like "let's make Regulus get groomed into joining the DEs" and reject the canonically groomed guy

They be like "let's make Barty's actions look right by saying it was for love" and reject the guy who did everything for the girl he loved (platonically or not)

Double standards, double standards everywhere.

Diversity only exists if Snape is not involved

[alinathinkstoomuch]

SAFEST THING

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader summary: rossi drops off a drunk hotch who can't help but profess his undying love for you, based on this request. warnings: flufffff, love drunk hotch who is completely besotted with you. that's literally it. he loves you, dammit! word count: 0.9k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Rossi could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Aaron tipsy, let alone properly drunk. Steaming, wobbling, slurring his way through a love sonnet drunk. It just wasn’t a thing that happened. Ever. 

His suit jacket was abandoned somewhere in the backseat of Rossi’s car, which now smelled like a whiskey parlour. Rossi had cracked a window in hopes the breeze might air it out before the leather started soaking up the scent—and maybe, just maybe, sober Aaron up a little before you gave Rossi an earful for letting your husband get this shitfaced.

So shitfaced, in fact, that he apparently didn’t even remember taking off his tie, which was probably laying somewhere on the bar floor…right next to his left cufflink.

“She’s just—Dave, listen. Listen. She’s so smart. Like scary smart. And she makes it look easy, y’know?”

Rossi hummed in vague acknowledgment, eyes on the road.

“And she’s so pretty, and Jack loves her. Really loves her. He used to be so quiet and now he talks and laughs and he made her a macaroni necklace last week and said she was his favorite person ever, and I didn’t even mind, Dave.”

Rossi didn’t look over, mostly because he knew if he made eye contact, Aaron might cry. 

“I think—I think she healed us, Dave. Made us a little family.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Rossi replied dryly. “About six times since we left the bar.”

Aaron let out a wistful sigh and slumped back in the passenger seat. “She’s my home, y’know?” he said dreamily. “It’s not even a place anymore. It’s her. Just…her.”

“Mm,” Rossi grunted. “Poetic.”

They pulled up outside your home a few minutes later. The porch light was on, making Rossi shake his head. He could practically feel you pacing inside. Probably barefoot, probably annoyed, possibly armed.

He switched off the engine, glancing sideways. “Alright Romeo. Let’s get you to your Juliet before she kills us both.”

Aaron blinked up at the house like it had just appeared. He swayed slightly, squinting through the windshield. “She’s gonna be so pretty when she’s mad.”

Rossi let out a long-suffering groan and got out of the car. “Unreal,” he muttered, circling round to the passenger side just in time to catch Hotch attempting to stand up without using any of his core strength.

“Whoa, easy there,” Rossi huffed, grabbing his arm. “Let’s keep the dramatic swooning to a minimum.”

He was halfway through wrangling a love-drunk, six-foot-two, Unit Chief up the steps when the front door opened and you stepped outside, tying the sash of your dressing gown with the same expression you strictly reserved for when Morgan and Reid decided to start pranking each other mid-case.

“Oh, Aaron,” you sighed, hands on your hips. “Really?”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “It’s you,” he breathed, all dreamy-eyed, abandoning Rossi. “You came outside.”

“Yes,” you said flatly, stepping down to meet him. “Because you’re being very loud. We have neighbors. And Jack.” You pointed up towards the window. “He’s asleep, so hush.”

Aaron turned back to Rossi, grinning like an idiot. “Told ya she’s pretty when she’s mad,” he slurred right before he fully leaned into you with all his weight causing you to take a step back, catching him by the arms just in time. 

“You’re not even gonna help me get him inside?” you asked, glaring at Rossi over your husband's shoulder.

Rossi was already halfway down the steps, brushing his hands off. “He’s all yours, sweetheart. Goodnight and make sure he sleeps on his side. He was mixing everything Morgan ordered.”

You adjusted your grip on Aaron as Rossi disappeared down the path, mumbling something about needing a drink and a month off. Aaron meanwhile, had gone entirely pliable in your arms. Not quite dead weight, he was still trying to be helpful in that way drunks think they’re being helpful, mostly by murmuring ‘I’ve got it’ while making zero actual contribution.

“You realise I’m probably going to hold this over you for the rest of your life,” you muttered as you led him up the final step.

“I deserve that. But in my defence…you looked really good coming down the porch.”

“You want to live, don’t you?”

“Very much,” he nodded, leaning heavily against the doorframe as you flicked the light on. “Preferably in this house. With you.”

Your arms were around him again, helping him to the couch. “I mean it,” he added as he slumped on the pillows with a grunt. “You. This. You’re the safest thing in my life.”

You swallowed, your annoyance dissolving like sugar in warm water by the sincerity in his bloodshot eyes. “Let me get you something to drink before you start making me cry.”

“I know what this job does to people,” he went on, and you paused mid-step, glancing back at him. Without thinking, you abandoned your hydration mission entirely and sat down beside him. “I’ve seen it, we’ve watched it. Over and over. And you,” he continued, “you still choose me. Even on days I wouldn’t choose myself.”

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his, your thumb gently spinning his gold wedding band. Then you brought his knuckles to your lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “Always, baby. Now let's get you upstairs and you can carry on telling me how great I am, hm?”

That earned the faintest of smiles, crooked and sleepy. “I do have a lot more material.”

“I bet you do.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @star-crossed-sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp  @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @hopelessromantic727 @piatosniathenie @averyhotchner @softtdaisy

join my taglist here 💌

please fill out the form if you'd like to be tagged for specific readers or send me a dm if you'd like to be removed from the list!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; got some more "draft stud" for y'all. No real reason, haha, just because I actually wrote a pretty decent chunk more of this than I ended up having space to post for the mystery slots last week and like, it SEEMS like so far this WIP is up a few of your ( crime ) alleys. Like juuuuust maybe, hahaha. So I took a lil' writing break and got it all Tumblr-able for all of your tire-thieving, crime-lording needs! ❤️ content notes/warnings: omegaverse, family-planning via attempting to recruit a crime lord who is legally your dead-brother-by-adoption to knock up your best (boy)friend, and Tim Drake's total lack of respect for both personal boundaries and Jason's impending migraine. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Jesus Christ,” Jason groans, burying his face in one hand. He doesn’t even bother asking when or where the little creep got ahold of any of his DNA to test that. Fucking–probably off the damn memorial, for all he knows. Or, well–admittedly "at a crime scene" is an equally likely option. “You know if I were legally alive, we’d be legally siblings, right? Technically we are legally siblings.” 

“I actually think it’s pretty common to ask siblings for favors like this?” Tim says. “Or cousins, maybe.” 

“Yeah, the actually related ones!” Jason says in exasperation. “Or at least the ones who aren’t trying to drop-kick each other into either early retirement or a life sentence in goddamn Blackgate!” 

“I mean I really don’t think we have that kind of relationship anyway, considering, but also I’m not the one who you would ideally be knocking up,” Tim says with a shrug. “Also full disclosure, I don’t actually think Blackgate could handle you so there’s not much point in trying to send you there. Maybe if I just needed a free weekend or something, I guess.” 

“Why did Batgirl turn you down on this, Dream Warrior?” Jason asks, half-eyeing him.

“I’m going to blame either David Cain or Lady Shiva for that,” Tim says. “Probably Shiva, considering we were effectively asking her to sire a pup and then not actually be their parent. I didn’t think there was a high chance of her saying yes, honestly, but she was both our immediate first picks so it seemed kinda . . . I dunno, disingenuous not to ask her?” 

“Yeah, obviously she would've been,” Jason snorts as he unwraps his sandwich to tear a bite off. It's goddamn delicious, which MM's always is, but he's still vaguely annoyed because it's goddamn Tim Drake who brought it. “So what pick in the stud draft am I, eleven? Twelve? Lucky number thirteen?” 

He cannot actually imagine how many people must've turned Tim down for him to be here, so–

“No, you're second,” Tim replies, shaking his head. Jason stares blankly at him past his mouthful of wafflewich. “If you say no, I’ll be calling Super-Man, and if he says no then–” 

“Superman?!” Jason sputters. 

“No, Super-Man,” Tim “corrects” like he somehow thinks he’s actually saying a different name. “Kong Kenan. How was that not self-evident?” 

“Because it sounds exactly the fucking same, that’s how!” Jason says in exasperation, though that does make more sense. Definitely more sense than Clark, anyway, because that was definitely a what the actual fuck EVEN moment. 

“It really doesn’t, but this is getting off-topic,” Tim says, then gestures meaningfully with a hand and asks, “Which is: what are your thoughts on sperm donation? 

“Sounds boring,” Jason replies frankly before taking a swig of coffee. 

“Oh, that was a metaphor, Kon said he’s fine either way but I’d really prefer you actually fuck him,” Tim clarifies with a much more meaningful gesture. 

Jason stares blankly at him again. Tim continues to look unfazed. 

“. . . is this a kink thing, Beyond Thunderdome?” Jason asks finally, for lack of any other reasonable explanation.

“This is a ‘I don’t want my omega to feel like a lab experiment for his first breeding heat because he’s worried about making me feel emasculated’ thing,” Tim says. 

“. . . yeah, fair enough,” Jason allows, taking another sip of his coffee. Still goddamn delicious; still Tim Drake-related annoying. “Jesus, though, you could’ve led with that. You know I’m a fucking beta, though, my chances of successfully knocking up your boy in one cycle are not that impressive.” 

“Well, that’s the useful thing about cycles,” Tim says with another little shrug. “They, you know, cycle.” 

“You want me to fuck your omega through probably multiple heats?” Jason asks, still more than a little incredulous about the idea. Again, he was not even aware that those two were dating. He was not even aware that Tim was into invulnerable and insatiable touch-based telekinetic omegas built like sexy industrial farm equipment with a very public history of “let me prove I’m good enough” issues, though actually when he thinks through that full sentence in his head it’s admittedly difficult to make an argument for why he would not be. 

Maybe if he was very, very gay or very, very asexual, Jason guesses. 

“Well, if it goes well this time, we’d probably ask you to do it again in a couple years anyway, so why not?” Tim says. “Kon wants to have more than one.” 

“Oh, so twice as many multiple-heat fucks?” Jason says. Jesus, this little freak of human nature. 

“Maybe three times, depending?” Tim says, tilting his head to one side with a considering expression. “Kon was designed to be hyper-fertile but given I have heard of exactly one Kryptonian ever that had a littermate it seems like Kryptonians might have a lower chance of conceiving litters than humans do, so we don’t really know how that might go yet.” 

Jason pauses for a long moment, because all general incredulity and disbelief aside, that sentence contained a red flag the size of a damn bedsheet. Several bedsheets sewn together, in fact. 

Maybe just an entire Bed Bath & Beyond’s worth of bedsheets, actually. 

“‘Designed to be’,” he repeats, and Tim’s expression briefly sours. 

“We’re not going to get into what Paul Westfield’s backup ‘make myself a custom Superman’ plan entailed,” he says. “Especially because he didn’t immediately scrap the thing when Kon came out sixteen and unpresented.” 

“Fucking hell,” Jason says. Well, that definitely explains Tim wanting to make sure Superboy doesn’t feel like a lab experiment while he’s getting bred.

“Mmmhm,” Tim says. 

Jason eyes him for a long moment as he takes another swallow of very good coffee, debating on how stupid this idea is and also if he wants to deal with Bruce’s opinion on him getting involved in it. A counterargument, admittedly, is Superboy’s very pretty smirk and ass you could bounce a giant penny off. 

Though . . . 

“Do you actually factually know if Kryptonians have a lower chance of conceiving litters, or is the prevalence of them having singles potentially just a birthing matrix thing?” he asks. “Because another solid reason I can think of to use one of those besides not risking the dam’s health or life and doing whatever weird ‘genetic optimization’ thing they had going on with 'em is Kryptonians being a lot more likely to conceive litters. Like big litters.” 

“. . . that is a question that I should have thought to investigate sooner,” Tim admits with a slight wince. 

“Y’think, Season of the Witch?” Jason asks dubiously. Tim frowns, tilting his head again and clearly confused, and Jason rolls his eyes. “Third Halloween movie, genius.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. “I was wondering what the names were about.” 

“Terminator, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Mad Max,” Jason says with another roll of his eyes. He did not think calling the guy a bunch of threequel titles was that subtle a dig. “Jesus, kid, watch a movie that didn’t originate on either Netflix or PornHub."

“I don’t watch either of those?” Tim says, wrinkling his nose. 

“You watch porn somewhere, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me to knock up your bitch for you,” Jason snorts dubiously, tearing another bite off his sandwich. Who even has that thought process? 

“I’d really prefer you not call him that,” Tim says. 

“Who cares, he’s not even here,” Jason retorts dismissively, waving him off as he chews. 

“Well yeah, I wouldn’t be telling you not to call him a bitch if he was here, because that would actually be helpful,” Tim says reasonably. Jason . . . pauses, and stares at the corner of the wall past Tim’s head. It’s a wall. 

 It . . . sure is a wall, yeah. And also the corner of a wall, yup. 

Wall. 

Jason chews the rest of his bite very slowly and does not allow himself to process the implication that Superboy might like being called a bitch in bed. 

“I’ve never actually heat-partnered anyone before,” he says. “Like I’ve rut-partnered a few people, but I feel like that is likely a significantly different experience. And probably also easier, frankly, given getting most alphas off takes about a fifth of the time and effort as getting most omegas off.” 

“That’s not really a concern,” Tim tells him with another one of those little shrugs. Jason stares at the corner of the wall past his head some more. It is . . . still a wall, yeah. Yup. Definitely still a wall.

What the fuck does that even mean? There is literally no way Tim meant “you wouldn't need to bother getting my omega off while you were breeding him as non-lab-experiment-ly as possible”, because in what fucking world would he have meant that, so like–what? Just . . . what? 

Jason’s brain is unfortunately supplying some very goddamn creative and very goddamn dirty theoretical answers to that question.

[that-faerie-in-the-corner]

you know what I find fascinating about how Helen is talked about in the works in the epic cycle?

everyone has argued to death over whether she was kidnapped, went willingly, was influenced/controlled/threatened by Aphrodite, whatever, but the thing is the actual TEXTS can't seem to make up their minds on Helen. everyone will be cursing Helen's name as an unfaithful wife and destroyer of men in Agamemnon but then Paris will be called a "robber-rapist" which would obviously heavily imply that he stole and assaulted her (plus the part where Clytemnestra basically says "shut the fuck up about Helen she didn't force you to do all that", although how much we're supposed to agree with her is debatable). In Iphigenia In Aulis we're going to war to get REVENGE on the Trojans AND HELEN but then Agamemnon will accuse Menelaus of "lust(ing) only to hold a lovely woman in (his) arms", calls him crazy for wanting her back, and then when Menelaus changes his mind about killing Iphigenia to get the winds back he says "Could I not obtain A perfect marriage elsewhere, if I longed for Marrying? But a brother whom I should Most cherish, I was about to forfeit To gain a Helen, so bartering excellence For evil" which is still pretty spiteful towards Helen but also really fucking weird to say if he only wanted her back to kill or otherwise punish her. Then, in the same play, the Greeks are described as wanting to sail to Troy so "That they may halt the plunder of marriage beds And the rape and seizure of Greek women" which would also imply Helen was, in fact, raped and seized, otherwise why would it be phrased like that and not like, "seduced" or "whisked away" or whatever? In Orestes Elektra and Orestes interpret Helen's actions in the worst possible light while when Helen actually speaks she seems generally sympathetic towards them, distraught and grieving over the whole situation, and claims that she went because Aphrodite made her mad, which could absolutely be a lie, but the thing is we just don't know who's the unreliable narrator here Is this a translation thing? Indicative of a really weird idea of what rape is? Is this an intentional writing choice? This got me to thinking and then I realized that if Menelaus was away when Helen left then he almost certainly doesn't actually know what happened. He didn't see or hear what happened, he doesn't get a chance to talk to Helen and have her explain until after the war, and obviously none of the other Greeks would know for sure either, right? And I just think it is kind of a missed opportunity that adaptations don't really do anything with this kind of unspoken conflict at all. Paris the Musical kind of does (Menelaus believes Helen was abducted when she ended up begrudgingly going with Paris trying to help him to escape) but like, why do all the greek men have one idea of Helen in adaptations? Why don't they argue about it? Why don't they question Menelaus about his motivations more? What if (especially if Aphrodite fucked with her head, as I am one to believe) Helen doesn't even trust herself on her own intentions? What if Menelaus tears himself up debating this with himself every night? Like, could I trust that she wouldn't do this to me and our daughter? Is it better that my wife doesn't love me anymore and is safe with her new lover, or that she does but is trapped against her will having who knows what done to her? Do I know my wife anymore? Did I ever know her in the first place? What if he lays eyes on Helen, his Helen, for the first time in ten years and his sword slips from his grasp as he realizes that yes, of course he knows her, how could he have ever doubted? Or maybe he still doesn't know if he knows her, but maybe he doesn't need to, because he knows that she is tired and scared, and he still loves her, and he just wants to take her back to their home? What then? Hm?

[dayasfilms]

Ahhh I’m obsessed with your writing!!! Can we pls have Star and Steve’s first time together?

Your First Time With Steve

Summary: You and Steve have your first time together after you decide to take a little break from studying for your chemistry exam.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Year: Around September-October of 1982 (Star and Steve are in their sophomore year of high school)

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv (don’t do this), fluff, bad dirty chem jokes, mentions of Y/N, feeling insecure, losing virginity (both f and m), it would make a lot more sense to read my ST series Reticent (click the Series Masterlist below) before reading this to know more about the part regarding protection and the scar but it’s not absolutely necessary

Word Count: 4.1k

Note: Thank you for your request! Funnily enough, I was already writing this before I even got this request so this is perfect timing. Enjoy a little smut one shot about Star and Steve’s first time together. Also, if you want to get added to my ST taglist, scroll all the way to the bottom of this post and click on the green link!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

The amount of notes on your desk was enough to drive anyone insane. But even though you were in desperate need of a break, you didn’t stop. You kept flipping through flashcards, reviewing every homework assignment and highlighting the mess of topics that would be on your Chemistry exam in two days.

The house was quiet. Your mom was working late in the city, which meant you had the whole day to yourself with no disruptions. Not that your mom was a disruption, of course she never was. You just enjoyed having some peace to cram.

Though maybe you’d jinxed it. Just as you reached for the next flashcard in your stack, a light tapping sound came from the window. Your head snapped toward the glass, heart skipping just slightly. Cautiously, you stood and stepped closer, unsure what, or who, you’d find outside.

At first, there was nothing. You just saw the trees outside and the faint reflection of your bedroom in the afternoon light. You were just about to turn around when another knock made you jump, and a face appeared at the window.

You shrieked. A hand flew to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart as you exhaled sharply. Outside the glass, Steve Harrington stood with a sheepish grin, waving at you like he hadn’t just shaved a year off your life. You opened the window and stepped back as he climbed through carefully, brushing his jeans before straightening up.

“Steve!” You hissed, hands on your hips. “You scared me! You could’ve fallen!”

He gave you an unapologetic grin as he shut the window behind him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to your desk, pulling out your chair and flopping back into it. “What are you even doing here?”

He sat on the edge of your bed, watching you with soft eyes. “I missed you. Haven’t seen you since…uh, yesterday.”

You turned just enough to raise an eyebrow. “Wow, a whole day?”

“Exactly. Tragic.”

You laughed under your breath and turned back around, flipping open your textbook again. “Why not use the front door like a normal person? My mom’s not even home.” That made him pause. You turned to look at him again. “You didn’t notice her car wasn’t in the driveway, did you?”

He opened his mouth, then scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, in my defense, I was too busy thinking about you. I didn’t really notice anything else.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, but your smile betrayed you.

“Also,” he added quickly. “Sneaking through your window? It’s super romantic, if you ask me.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” You teased.

Steve stood up and walked over to where you sat, leaning over your shoulder to glance at your pile of notes. His brows raised. “Jesus. How long have you been at this?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three PM. You chewed the inside of your cheek. “…Since about ten? After breakfast.”

His eyes went wide. “That was five hours ago!”

You deadpanned. “Yes, Steve. I can count.”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he gently spun your chair toward him, his hands resting on the armrests as he bent down to your eye level. “Hey. You need a break.”

You shook your head. “I need to pass Chem.”

“You also need a functioning brain, and I’m pretty sure yours is melting right now.” You smiled a little despite yourself, leaning back in your chair. “And I’m sure you don’t even need to study anymore. You’re the smartest person ever.”

You hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he coaxed, brushing a hand down your arm. “Just ten minutes. I’ll even quiz you first. I promise.”

“You’re gonna quiz me?”

“I’m very qualified,” he said, grabbing a flashcard dramatically and clearing his throat. “What’s the atomic number of carbon?”

You rolled your eyes, yet you still had a small smile form on your lips. “Six.”

He flipped the card. “Correct. I’m a great tutor already.”

You crossed your arms, amused. “One question and you’re giving yourself a gold star?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned, tossed the card aside, and asked you a few more. For a little while, it actually worked. You were laughing and forgetting about the pressure. But eventually, Steve stopped reading, just watching you quietly with a look that made your stomach do a slow flip.

He gently placed the flashcards down and stood up straight, motioning for you to do the same. “Come on. Just ten minutes. Take a real break.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and stood, and Steve didn’t waste a second before sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you toward him.

You smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re relentless.”

“I just want you to breathe,” he murmured. “And maybe make out with you a little.”

You laughed. “Of course you do.”

You didn’t protest when Steve gently tugged you away from the desk and toward your bed. You let him fall back onto it first, laughing when he exaggerated the flop, then climbed up after him. He reached for you immediately, pulling you down beside him.

“You’re warm,” he murmured as you settled into his chest.

You snorted softly. “You dragged me away from my desk. This is your fault so stop complaining.”

“Who said I’m complaining?” He said with a grin, then tilted your chin up toward him. “You’re so cute when you’re mad at me.”

You rolled your eyes, lips already curving as he leaned in. His kiss was soft at first, teasing and slow. But as your lips continued to move, it grew heavier. His fingers brushed along your jaw before sliding into your hair, and your hand found the hem of his shirt, fingertips curling slightly against the fabric.

The kiss deepened as you shifted, Steve sitting against the headboard while you straddled him, your body pressed to his. His hands moved to your waist, holding you steady.

It was easy to lose track of time like that. It was easy to melt into the feel of him, the way he kissed you like he’d never get tired of it. The way he always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

You shifted slightly, and the pressure of his bulge against your thigh made your breath hitch. He let out a quiet whine that was barely audible, but he quickly deepened the kiss to cover it up. The sound still lingered in your mind, sending a flutter through your core as your fingers curled tighter into his shirt.

At some point, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but you didn’t move far. Your forehead rested against his, and both of you were quiet for a moment, just listening to the sound of each other’s breathing.

Your heart pounded and not because of the kissing, but from the thoughts that formed the longer he held you. “Steve?” You asked softly.

His eyes blinked open. “Yeah?”

Your voice wavered, trying to figure out how to say it. “Have you ever, you know…done the thing before? Like, actually?”

Steve blinked up at you, surprised. “No. I haven’t.”

You nodded slowly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Me neither.”

He was quiet for a second, searching your expression. “Why do you ask?”

You paused, fingers fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I was just…thinking. About us. Being with you like this.” His brows softened as he tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You glanced at him, and though your cheeks were warm, you pushed through your shyness. “I think…I think I want to. I want my first time to be with you.”

Steve’s eyes widened, the boy stuttering. “I–I, uh, wha–really?”

You wanted to hide, thinking that maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. “Yeah. I mean, we don’t have to. If–if you don’t want your first time to be with me, I understand. But…I–actually, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Hey, no.” He shifted a little, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Of course I want my first time to be with you. But are you really sure about this?”

You nodded, your voice a whisper. “Yeah. I mean…I’m nervous. But I trust you. And I want this. I want to do it with you.”

Steve let out a quiet breath and smiled, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. “Okay. We’ll go slow, alright? If you change your mind at any point, you just tell me.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart fluttering.

He leaned in to kiss you again, gentler than before, like he was memorizing every second. His hands stayed put on your waist, always patient with you.

Slowly, he lays you back on the bed, his body covering yours. He peppered kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a tingly sensation on your skin. You arched into his touch, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his exploration of your body.

He stopped, pulling back a little to check on you. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Just a little nervous,” you admitted, your cheeks turning warm with embarrassment.

He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, I’m nervous too,” he confessed, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "But I promise, we’ll take it slow. We’ll only do what you’re comfortable with.”

His words eased your anxiety, and you found yourself relaxing a little. You tilted your head up and captured his lips in another passionate kiss. He responded immediately, his hand cupping your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his mouth, your tongue tangling with his.

Your hands began to roam, going up and down his chest. He groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it sent excitement through your body.

When he reached the hem of your shirt, he paused, his eyes seeking permission. You nodded breathlessly, eager for more. He took it off, revealing your bra-clad breasts. His gaze darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice deep.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the swell of your breasts, his fingers swiftly unhooking your bra. As he took off the material, he gazed upon your exposed flesh, his eyes filled with awe.

Suddenly, his eyes landed on a scar near the side of your stomach. He paused, looking up at you. “Wait, what’s this?”

You immediately covered it with your hands, shying away from him. “Um, it’s nothing. It was from a car accident when I was younger.”

His eyes softened, and he went down to the scar, pressing soft kisses on it. The contact made you shiver.

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“Shh…” he shushed you, continuing to pepper kisses along the faded edges. “Just let me.”

You didn’t say anything else as he loved on you, pressing his lips to make you forget about what happened to you in the past. You wanted to tell him, but not yet. You weren’t ready to open up about that part of your life. You just watched him, your heart full of warmth and love as he put so much care into you.

He then brought his head up and took one hardened nipple into his mouth. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and nibbled gently. Waves of pleasure coursed through your body, making you squirm beneath him.

As he lavished attention on your breasts, his hand slid up your thigh, caressing you through your sweatpants. You tensed for a moment, unsure if you were ready for this. But as his hands went higher, you found yourself aching for more.

When his fingers brushed against your core, you knew there was no turning back. This was really happening. You were about to give yourself to him completely.

He pulled away briefly, his eyes locking with yours. “Is this okay?” He asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you gazed up at him. “Yes,” you whispered. “Please, I want this. I want you, Steve.”

A smile spread across his face, and he leaned down to capture your lips in another searing kiss. As he did, his hands helped you take off your pants and then panties, before his fingers glided through your slick folds.

You gasped at the contact, your hips lifting off the bed to meet his touch. He stroked you gently, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you moan with pleasure. Your head fell back against the pillow, your eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in his touch.

But as he continued to pleasure you, you couldn’t help but feel a little worried. You couldn’t stop thinking about how maybe you weren’t good enough to do this, that you would only disappoint him and make a fool out of yourself. Your insecurities threatened to overwhelm you, and you found yourself tensing up under his touch.

Sensing your sudden hesitation, Steve pulled back, concern etched on his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, his fingers stilling.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m just...I’m worried that you won’t like it,” you admitted, your voice small.

He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, there’s nothing to be worried about,” he assured you, his eyes soft. “This is both our first times, remember? We’re learning together. There’s no right or wrong way to do this, all that matters is that we’re honest with each other and communicate what feels good. I want to make sure you feel good.”

His words helped calm your nerves again, and you felt yourself relaxing once more. You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth. “For being so understanding.”

He smiled, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Of course, honey,” he murmured, before capturing your lips in another deep kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you found yourself losing yourself in the moment, all thoughts of nervousness and self-doubt fading away. You were here with Steve, the boy you loved, and nothing else mattered.

With newfound confidence, you began to explore his body, your hands moving under his shirt to touch his bare skin. He groaned at your touch, his hips pressing against yours. You could feel his bulge growing, straining against his jeans.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached down and palmed him through the denim, earning a sharp intake of breath from him. He bucked into your hand, his fingers digging into your hips.

“God, Y/N,” he gasped, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Satisfied with his reaction, you began to unbuckle his belt, your fingers trembling slightly. He helped you push his jeans and boxers down his legs, kicking them off the side of the bed. He then took his shirt off, throwing it to the side as well.

Now fully naked before each other, you took a moment to appreciate the sight of him. He was lean, subtly toned from years of sports, with a faint trail of chest hair that made your breath catch. His cock made your eyes widen, and you couldn’t help but feel nervous again.

Sensing your gaze, Steve looked down at you, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, we don’t have to do this, honey. Just say the word and we can stop,” he told you softly.

You shook your head, bringing your hand to his cheek. “No, no. It’s not that I don’t want to do it. It’s just…” you looked back at his cock. “How is that supposed to, um…fit?”

Steve couldn’t help but almost let out a laugh at the nervous look on your face. He tried to remain composed, grinning at you instead. “It’ll be okay. And if it hurts too much, we can stop, okay? You just have to let me know. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hand slid between your thighs once more. This time, when his fingers brushed against your folds, you were ready for him.

He stroked you slowly with one finger first, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you writhing beneath him. He then added a second finger, and then a third. Your moans filled the room as he explored your slick folds, his touch driving you closer and closer to the edge. He pumped his fingers in and out, making sure you were ready for him. He wanted to make this as painless as possible for you.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers kept moving inside you, the wet sound of it only making the ache between your legs increase. Your eyes dropped to watch the motion of his hand, mouth parting at the sight. It was too much but in the best way. You let your eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the pillow as you let him continue.

You suddenly felt Steve lick a stripe up your pulsing heat. You gasped, opening your eyes to see his head between your thighs. He looked up at you as he stuck his tongue inside, lapping at your soaked core.

“You taste so sweet,” Steve murmured against you, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. The vibrations made your hips move on their own, grinding against his mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling as you tugged him closer. He groaned at the feeling, trying to match your pace as he continued exploring you with his tongue. When his nose bumped a particularly sensitive spot, a sharp whine escaped your throat. He froze instantly, lifting his head with concern etched into his features. “Did I hurt you?” He asked softly, eyes wide and apologetic.

“N–no,” your voice was quiet, and you could feel your cheeks grow warm. “It felt good.”

His frown turned into a relieved smile when he realized you were okay. He brought his fingers back, pressing gently against the spot that had made you gasp. This was all new for both of you, but Steve was determined to learn, to make it good for you. And now that he’d found what made you fall apart, he wasn’t about to let it go. He lowered his head again, his lips wrapping around your clit. When he began to suck softly, your back arched, a moan slipping out as your hand tightened in his hair, keeping him close.

The pressure in your core was building fast, your breaths coming out in soft, stuttering gasps as Steve’s mouth moved against you. He held you steady, his hands gripping your hips as if he didn’t want to let go. Your fingers were still in his hair, tugging him further into you as that wave of pleasure crept faster.

“Steve,” you whimpered, barely able to say his name. He didn’t stop, he just kept going, and it finally sent you over. Your eyes squeezed shut, head pressing back into the pillow as your body tensed, then melted beneath him. The sound of your moan filled the room, shaky and breathless, as the release swept through you. Steve looked up at you, his lips still parted and glistening with your slick. His eyes were wide, completely in awe. You opened your eyes slowly to meet his, still dazed.

“Was that okay?” He asked softly, his hands gently tracing along the insides of your thighs as he brought you back down to earth. You gave him a lazy, content smile and nodded, your heart still fluttering from the high. He leaned up to kiss you again, and you could faintly taste yourself on his lips, a reminder that made your cheeks flush and your legs instinctively press together at the image of him between them just moments ago. He then pulled away from your lips, leaving you aching for more. You whimpered in protest, your lips chasing him.

“Shh, just wait,” he murmured gently, his voice soothing as he settled between your legs. Just as he was about to continue, he paused, eyes going wide as he pulled back slightly. “Shit–I don’t have a condom. I never thought we were going to do this today.”

You stayed quiet for a second, your heart racing. You debated telling him the truth, but now wasn’t the time. Someday, when you were older and ready, you’d open up about everything. For now, a small white lie would have to do.

“We…don’t need one,” you said softly, watching his head snap up in surprise. “I’m on the pill.”

Steve blinked, confused. “Wait, really?” His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. “I mean–is that, like…safe?”

You almost laughed at the look on his face, but you held it back. Shifting slightly, you closed your legs, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Yeah, it’s safe,” you reassured him, meeting his eyes. “My doctor put me on it…to help regulate my cycle.”

He still looked a little uncertain. Steve had never claimed to know much about girls’ bodies but he was still trying to learn. He didn’t push you though. What you said made enough sense for him and he trusted you with everything in him. His gaze dropped to your now closed legs and then back to your face. Gently, he placed a hand on your knee.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked sincerely.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks warm. As he carefully parted your legs again, you swallowed your nerves and whispered. “Yes. Please.”

His eyes searched yours before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I promise I’ll be gentle,” he whispered. “We’ll go slow. If it’s too much, you just tell me, okay?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself. Slowly, he entered you, inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside your tight heat. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It was a mix of pleasure and discomfort that made you tremble. You were grateful he had taken his time to prepare you. You gasped as he began to move, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to the new feeling.

As he continued to thrust into you, the discomfort began to fade away, replaced by a building sensation of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper and faster.

He obliged, increasing his pace as he tried to get you to come before him. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin against skin as he drove into you with more speed. His fingers went to your clit, gently rubbing the sensitive bud, making you cry out in pleasure.

You could feel your orgasm building again, your body tensing as the pleasure became almost too much to bear. You clutched at him desperately, your nails scratching down his back as you were so close to reaching your high.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped. “I’m so close.”

He groaned against your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his own climax. “F-fuck, where do you want me?”

You tried to answer but another moan fell out of you. Your hands clenched tightly on his shoulders, barely getting the word out. “I-inside.”

That one word was all it took for him to push into you one last time, sending both of you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking beneath him as wave after wave of pleasure washed through you. He followed at the same time, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he found his own release, spilling inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, content to just stay wrapped up in each other’s arms. Finally, he rolled off you and pulled you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“That was incredible,” he whispered. His eyes stayed locked on your face, full of longing.

You smiled up at him, your finger tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Yeah, it really was,” you murmured, nuzzling closer.

He wrapped you tighter, tangling your legs together so there was nothing between you. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes fluttered closed.

He knew he’d have to leave soon since there was no telling when your mom would get home, but as he took in your peaceful face, all he wanted was to hold you like this forever.

After a while, you glanced at the abandoned flashcards across your desk. “Great. Now I’m definitely gonna fail this test.”

Steve shifted beside you, grinning as he trailed his fingers along your waist. “Impossible. Like I said, you’re literally the smartest person I know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Tell that to my chem grade after Monday.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Honey, if tonight proved anything, it’s that our chemistry’s explosive.”

You blinked, then groaned. “Oh my God, Steve.”

“What?” He said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, we definitely bonded.”

You shoved his shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Stop!”

“Come on,” he said with a wink. “Don’t act like I didn’t rock your periodic table.”

You gave him a look. “Okay, now you’re banned from speaking until my exam is over.”

He gasped. “What?! That’s, like, two whole days!”

“Exactly. Suffer.”

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

•• @kirriririririri @djospresso

get added to my ST taglist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡