#I need to take notes from you asap

[berrys-hide-out]

AAA

I needa take notes holy jitters, kicking and screaming, why is this so good ✨😭

Real Pain

I received a prompt from a lovely anon who asked for a story in which the reader has a toxic dad and Bucky comforts her. This kind of snowballed into a long story and not entirely what I intended it to be, but I’m glad it turned out different than what I‘d planned. This was hard to write, so I hope the sweet anon and others out there find some comfort in the narrative 💜

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (platonic)

Word count: ~12,400

CWs: toxic dad, sexism, violence (fighting, knives, guns, blood, etc), death, bad family dynamics, swearing, injuries

Bucky Barnes was a liar.

Because as much as he said he wanted a nice, quiet life in the aftermath of decades laden with combat, he couldn’t stay away.

Sam knew that. Sam vocalised that, a lot, which only made Bucky feel pestered and annoyed. Now, though, after all they’d been through together Bucky begrudgingly trusted the new Cap’s judgement. That’s how he ended up in a very off-grid repurposed hanger, standing next to Nick Fury, looking out over a room alive with the hunger and grit of fresh young agents.

“You know what a side hustle is?” Fury tried his hand at engaging Barnes in some kind of modern wit, but the sergeant shook his head. “Well, this is like my special little project. SHIELD’s grown out of needing me to oversee it. Dare I say, it’s been watered down,” he clasped his hands behind his back as he watched two agents expertly avoid each other’s training knives. “Hence, I had to get a new thing going.”

They approached a small firing range where a slew of agents of all shapes and sizes demonstrated their expert precision. Fury kept talking as his guest observed.

“A smaller collection of agents. More elite. The best of the best. You can imagine my relief when you said you were open to more work in this field.”

“Open to it, yeah,” Bucky crossed his arms and watched a short red-haired male group his bullets impressively. “Depends what you’re asking for.”

“I’m asking for a contractor,” Fury answered perfectly. “Every mission is your choice- I will not tell you what you have to do,” he turned his head and Bucky met his one-eyed stare. “What’s more, I won’t even tell you how to do it. As long as it gets done.”

Bucky stuck his tongue against the inside of his cheek and pondered the scenario that sounded too good to be true. He knew he was an asset, a valuable one at that, so of course any potential job would come with perks. If he was being honest with himself, it’s not as if he could just go train to do something else. This - the fighting, the weapons, the reconnaissance - this was his life now. May as well live it on his own terms.

Sensing his further openness, Fury dropped the other shoe. “You’d need a partner.”

“Why?”

“Because a lot of work requires backup. You can always leave them at home if you don’t need them, but it’s better to have one you can stick to.”

“So that’s why we‘re here.”

“Why we’re here,” Fury nodded. “Take all the time you need. Pick whoever you want.”

Fury took a call and left Bucky to his observations. Surely he wouldn’t expect him to make a decision today, so Bucky decided he didn’t have to. Today, he could just get a lay of the land and scope out the recruits.

The training area was large, spanning multiple rooms with state-of-the-art equipment and technology. He watched a middle-aged Chinese man decimate a group of holographic attackers, before a beautiful olive-skinned person with a buzzcut climbed a rope with terrifying ease, hitting a button at the top and clock their time. A young girl, couldn’t be more than eighteen, wore her hair in two platinum blonde braids that whipped around her face as she threw the knives and hit four major arteries on her target dummy. There was a lot going on.

Anyone he’d seen would’ve made a great partner in the field but there was something intangible he needed to find, and something in him thought he might find it over at a boxing ring, alive with commotion, where several agents were watching on.

He subtly pushed past to watch the scene unfold between the fighters. There were two people in the ring: the one standing was a tall, slender brunette with striking green eyes and a poorly-concealed smirk. The one on her hands and knees, was you. He saw your chest heave, he saw blood trickling from your nose as you lifted your head and stood back up.

“Tap out,” the other girl clicked her tongue and looked at you with pity. “Know when you’re beat.”

You laughed sharply and raised your wrapped fists in front of your face. Without your stare leaving hers, you ducked your head to the side and took a deep breath in. “I could do this all day.”

Bucky then watched as she landed blow after blow against you, kicking you while you were down just to scoff when you’d get back up again. You managed a few good hits against her, and Bucky could see the precision you’d clearly honed. In fact, there was a mountain of untapped potential to marry with the power evident in your near-perfect stance, the accuracy of your aim and the tenacity cutting through your words and breath as you refused to give up. Then, when your opponent landed a harsh blow that drew winces from the crowd, you spun once and fell hard to the mat.

She called you crazy, declared the fight done, and stepped out of the ring. The other agents slowly dispersed while Bucky watched on. Now, beaten and bruised, you still got back to your feet and called after her to come back. She didn’t listen. She just gave you a wary look and walked away, so you dropped your fists and let yourself fall back down to sit and catch your breath more completely.

“You’re losing power in your stance,” Bucky took a few more steps forward and picked up a water bottle, then slid it across the mat to you.

“How so?” You nodded your thanks for the water and eyed him skeptically as he stepped up, between the ropes and into the ring. You stood before he had to motion for you to stand, and you tossed the bottle down. “This was how I was taught,” you explained, getting into that same fighting stance.

“Drop your shoulders.”

“But my neck-”

“You’re wasting muscle tension,” he took a step forwards and nodded at your shoulders, so you dropped them down. “Better. And the best way to protect your neck is to land blows first.”

“I have more of a defensive combat background,” you said. Bucky bumped his eyebrows then took a swing at you. Your arm whipped up to defend yourself and stopped his swipe in its tracks. He could see the difference in your block when his forearm crashed against yours. He could see the surprise in your eyes when you felt the extra strength you’d already unlocked by following his advice. You looked up at him, still with blood caked against your nose. You were hungry. Eager. You looked excited as you asked, “What else?”

“Of all the highly qualified people in this building you somehow seek out the least experienced agent,” Fury sighed as he and Bucky watched from a distance while you assessed your injuries from the fight before. “She’s been here a month. You can’t choose someone else?”

“No.”

“You super-people always giving me headaches.”

“Where’d you find her?”

“Top of her class at Quantico.”

“Why’d you recruit her?”

They watched on as someone else limped up and you immediately vacated the bench you were sitting on, then turned to pass them them a fresh bottle of water.

“I know who you see in her,” Fury spoke solemnly. “Maybe I did too. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s not trained.”

Bucky watched on as, even as you wiped the blood from your nose and lips, you practised your battle stance. The one he’d taught you. You weren’t wasting a second to improve. A smile pulled at one side of his lips. “Even better,” he said. “I’ll train her myself.”

At first it was hard to believe. Really hard, considering how inexperienced you were compared to all the other agents, but you didn’t dare question Fury or give Sergeant Barnes a reason to second guess his choice. It was the highest honour imaginable, that someone who fought alongside the greatest heroes in the universe had seen something in you that he wanted to foster. To work with.

Then again, you’d been the worst in the room by far, so maybe he just likes the little guy.

Even still, as you got to training you swore to yourself you’d never burden him with your self-doubt. Even on the days it took you an embarrassingly long time to get the hang of something, you didn’t vocalise your insecurity or seek out his validation. As the weeks and months passed, it became more clear why he’d chosen you.

One of the reasons had to be that he wanted to train his own partner, not attempt to re-train someone else. Your time at Quantico had made you physically fit and mentally tough, and you were just fresh enough in your career that some of the things you’d been taught could be erased and/or improved. New dog, new tricks and all that. Often when he’d be showing you a technique he’d allude to the way the Americans did it, or the British method of training special forces, then he’d show you the way he did it. And he’d been, mostly, trained by Germans and Russians. They had a different way of doing things, so Bucky did too.

By the first time you went into the field together, he’d taught you dozens of tactics and manoeuvres, holds and hits, codes and communications, and you felt confident. It was a success, and it felt almost too easy. You’d had half a mind to ask him if it had been a test, but the hard drive you delivered to Fury the following day and the relief on his face told you it had been real.

The paperwork was certainly real and you were the one of the pair who always got stuck filling out reports. But since that was the most buerocracy you’d have to deal with being partnered with Bucky Barnes, you decided to take it in stride and try to enjoy it. Over time, you learned little ways to turn it into a game. Like asking your partner if he’d describe his final blow to an enemy as a “strike” or a “smackdown” as you sat typing from your seat on the jet. He’d crack a smile, provide a much more exciting adjective, and then stare out the window.

It was a fine line, being around him, of not too much but not nothing. So you just tried your best and gave him lots of space.

Over even more time, more missions, more late night stakeouts and slapdash dinners in safe houses, something more genuine blossomed up between you two. You didn’t when or how it had happened. Maybe it had occurred between the moment you’d wordlessly handed him a coffee when he’d walk into the kitchen of a safe house in Beirut, and the moment he’d gotten up and started the fire when you‘d reached for another blanket at the house in Anchorage. There was a genuine desire to look out for one another, and not just in the field. You didn’t need to name it for it to be real, and you got the sense that trying to name it would just make both of you feel awkward. That’s the last thing you wanted because even after all this time, it had never felt awkward.

Even when you had to hold his hand or kiss him to keep cover, or had to share a bed when there was only one, or he had to rip your clothes off and lower you into a bathtub in your underwear because you’d been shot or stabbed and it was just cleaner that way.

Even during those times, when you felt light-headed from blood loss and pain seared through your skin as he went in search of the slugs embedded in your shoulder or your thigh, you still couldn’t bring yourself to vocalise your doubt. Be it in yourself, or his ability to stop the bleeding, you‘d make some lame one-liner and backseat drive his stitching skills until he was rolling his eyes and you could see the concern in him alleviate.

Then, the most incredible thing started happening. Whether in the field or the training room, on the jets or in the cars… Bucky started getting sarcastic with you. Sassy, almost. He’d always been a bit stoic and professional and guarded, but after months and months of the two of you spending far too much time together, working, cooking, eating, training, he finally opened up a bit more. Not in a pour-his-heart-out way, but in a way where maybe he felt confident enough in how well he’d trained you to give you a bit of a friendly ribbing now and then. And you… well, you took it and ran with it.

Not too far, of course. Never too far. But the banter became undeniably good and only served to deepen the connection which aided you so well on missions. Now, not only could you give him a glance from across the room and know he’d understand you were heading behind the bar to spike a mark’s drink, but you could also catch his eye and share his humour when something funny happened. You could laugh at how he’d roll his eyes when Sam Wilson was on TV and Bucky would call him a “clown,” but he wouldn’t change the channel and he’d watch the interview in full while he pretending like he wasn’t watching.

Before you knew it, it’d been over a year and you grew accustomed to your “days off” being interrupted by a call to your work phone.

There you were, reaching for the bag to measure the protein powder for your pre-workout shake, when that familiar subtle ringing brought your attention to one of the two phones on the kitchen bench. The tune told you it was Bucky, so you put the bag down and answered the phone. “Hey.”

“Ireland.”

When it was a mission, he always greeted you the same way - by telling you where you were going. It always made you smile, even after all this time, because it was just too much fun travelling the world in the pursuit of justice.

“Good morning to you too,” you chuckled. “What do I need?”

“Stealth pack. No disguises. Safe house is kitted with clothes so pack light. It’s a nice house. You’ll like it.”

“Flatscreen and a wine cellar?”

“Overlooking the ocean,” he confirmed with a smile in his voice. “I’ve picked up our weapons packs and I’m on my way to your apartment.

“ETA?”

“Ten minutes.”

“See you soon.”

Protein shake abandoned, you made haste to your closet to throw on your standard black flight clothes, throw the covers over your recently-left bed, slip into some sneakers and head over to the bookshelf on the wall. You ran your finger along the spines of the volumes until it landed on Ulysses and you pulled it to trigger the panel on the ground beside you, the one disguised as floorboards, to unlock and shift enough for you to slip your fingers under and lift up.

Looking between the different packs and cases of weapons, your eyes settled on the sleek black backpack with an piece of masking tape on it which said STEALTH. You ripped the tape off, stuck it to another pack for now, picked up the bag and shut the panel. Three minutes later, you were leaving your building and sliding straight into the backseat of a armoured car.

“You’re early,” you mentioned.

“By one minute.”

“Still early. What’s the brief?”

Bucky ran you through the details as you were driven to the airfield. Fairly simple objective: download the contents of a pharmacy executive’s computer. Why you two were called in, AKA the catch: it was in his private residence in Dublin, the guards were armed, the security was tight. It would be better to not be detected, but not the end of the world if you were.

The flight felt brief. You studied the floor plans, ate a nice protein-rich meal prepared by the private jet’s crew and made sure both you and Bucky had a device to copy the files and also a key to the getaway car that was marked on the map as being left on a nearby street. By the time you were descending over Ireland, you were testing your comms and making sure all your stealth gear was in place. You both wore sleek, black, fitted clothing with several concealed pockets for the various bits and pieces you needed, be it guns, comms, knives or other high-tech gadgets and gizmos. Today, you kept it light.

The mansion was located in a nice suburb just outside the city centre on the east coast of Ireland. You were breaking in just before two in the afternoon, which you’d usually never do unless under the cover of nightfall, but the intelligence brief stated the homeowner wouldn’t be home and security did their changeover at two, so it was the best time to attempt to be undetected.

The house was blocky and minimalist from the outside, covered in windows, dark greys contrasted it from the outside shrubbery and chrome accents glinted in the sun from the windowsills and various metal bits. It certainly gave the impression that someone was trying to make it look like a supervillain lair. Though, you were pretty sure, there was no secret cave underneath housing weapons of mass destruction. No, all that was here was a man who used legal pharmaceutical shipments to disguise trafficking dangerous and illegal drugs around the world. And the evidence, said a whistleblower who reached out to US Intelligence, was on his personal computer in his office at home.

Bucky signalled to you, and you two started making your way towards the fence. You eyed the cameras, then shot a small radio frequency at it which would freeze the picture in place on the other end - leaving whoever watching none the wiser that someone had passed through. The jamming only lasted fifteen seconds so they wouldn’t get suspicious. Once it was frozen, you two hopped the fence. Immediately freezing three other cameras, you and Bucky ducked behind a large garden statue, he looked at his watch, remembering the guard formations, then nodded. You ran towards a serviceperson door, freezing the camera there before running into its view. The door required an RFID tag, so Bucky held up his RFID descrambler. The lock clicked open. You slipped inside, Bucky right behind you.

There were far fewer cameras inside so you replaced the device in your pocket and listened out for footsteps. Memory told you this area was relatively free of guards. Perhaps a wayward gardener or housekeeper would stumble across you but they were easier to put to sleep and hide without much fuss. You crept down the hallway towards the main stairwell. Bucky’s hand met your shoulder. You stepped once to the side. He stepped in front with his gun raised; his spacial awareness was spiked with the serum so it made sense for him to be at the front when you didn’t know what you were approaching. You saw him flinch, and then step off course into a doorway. You followed, hiding yourself flat against the fibreglass door as a security guard walked past the end of the hallway you were on.

“Changeover,” you whispered. Bucky nodded. You waited. Two minutes went past, another guard, a different guard, walked the other way after they’d changed posts. You looked up at Bucky, he gave a single nod.

Seamlessly, expertly, you and your partner dodged people and cameras and wrong turns until you finally reached the private office of the homeowner. The biometric lock was state of the art, but nothing really stood a chance against the technology Fury had ordered to be developed. Less than five seconds after your descrambler was set to biometrics and held against the unit, the door slid open. You both shot inside, Bucky then hit the button to close the door. No way in hell would there be a camera in here.

Without wasting any time, you hurried over to the slick computer sitting at the desk and turned it on. Even as it was still booting up, you stuck the drive into the USB port and let the technology within the thumb-sized device work its magic, then you stepped out of view of the large window.

Whether it was two seconds too late or too early, you didn’t know, but a large-caliber bullet broke through the window right where you’d just been standing and embedded in the ceiling. You swore loudly as the glass splintered and fractured and then was completely busted open when another round entered it.

Someone outside, on the ground, had seen you.

You looked at Bucky. He was loading his gun so you did the same; they shot first using deadly force, so you’d have to respond in kind.

Just barely peeking out from behind the curtain, you aimed at who’d shot at you, pulled the trigger, and watched as the man dropped his rifle, clutched the shoulder of his shooting arm, and fell to his knees. It was all on.

A loud alarm sounded throughout the property and the lights all became that much brighter, not that it made much difference in the day, but you supposed they’d want to take away any shadows from night-time intruders.

Casting a glance to the drive in the machine, you saw the first of five tiny lights flick on, meaning the data was beginning to be copied. “Hunker down,” you nodded to the drive and saw Bucky’s jaw tense, then he loaded another gun and gave you a solemn look.

“There are more coming to take aim from outside. You take them, I’ll hold them off from coming in here.”

“Copy. How many mags you got?”

“Six.”

Knowing how many guards were on duty, you gave him a wry smile and a tilt of your head. “Don’t miss.”

Then, you two entered a flurry of firefight. Bullets splattered the ceiling through the now-vacant windowsill. These were clearly trigger-happy guards who didn’t get to use their toys much - not serious threats - and so you took your chance to make precise shots as they reloaded for another spray. Always preferring to maim rather than to take a life, you aimed for shoulders, knees, feet and hands, taking down guard after guard and they ran outside to join. Someone on the back perimeter of the fence looked to be calling for backup, so you looked to Bucky, but he’d since become distracted with guards trying to enter the room.

It had been a few minutes. Three out of five clicks on the drive.

With a grunt of discomfort, you reloaded your last magazine into your handgun and fired off three shots at two guards. One was a warning shot. They didn’t move. So the next two caught a quadricep and a bicep, respectively.

You looked back. Still three out of five clicks and only five bullets left in your supply. Stealing another glance at Bucky, you could see he was engaged less in firefight and was now trying to render his attackers unconscious. Or… maybe you were the attackers? No, these were the bad guys- four out of five clicks!

Not wanting to waste your bullets just in case, you slid the gun back into your ankle holster and fixed your focus on that lone guard by the back perimeter. You had several blades in a pocket on the back of your thigh, so you slid your hand in and took one between two of your fingers. Hesitating as you aimed, you held your breath and wondered if it was fair to distract him by throwing a knife at his shin, he only-

“Ughf!” You whipped your head around as you head the breath get knocked from Bucky’s chest and he stumbled backwards. The door opened more fully and a tall, brute-looking guard entered with a blade clutched tightly in a reverse grip. The second he lifted his arm to swipe at your partner, your arm had whipped around, your blade was in his ribcage, and your footsteps were pounding towards him. He growled in pain but used his other meaty hand to make a close-fisted hit towards you, which you ducked and then used the momentum of your upper body going down to brace one hand on the floor and connect your heel to the underside of his chin. He froze, then crumpled in unconsciousness.

“Nice one,” Bucky coughed and stood. “Where’s the data?”

“Almost done,” you panted, then felt around for your knife supply. “How many more are coming?”

“Two more I can hear,” he said after a brief listen, then a nervous look. “Get cover,” he whispered.

He pulled you both into a small nook close to door, so someone walking in would have their back to you for at least one or two seconds. It was a quick move you’d had to make, so you ended up pressed snugly front-to-front with Bucky. It was tight, and not entirely physically comfortable, but you didn’t dare complain as human silence shrouded the area. They‘d turned the alarm off. They were listening. Waiting.

You looked up at Bucky, who gave a somewhat nervous look which wasn’t exactly reassuring. He braved mouthing, “automatic weapons,” and bumped his eyebrows when you mouthed back, “fuck.” Automatic weapons were a different breed of killing machine. Squeeze the trigger once, hold it down, and spray your target with… for something hand-held, about three hundred bullets a minute. You were fast, Bucky was strong, but not impervious.

The steps outside came closer, slowly, intentionally. You could hear the shift and click of metal machinery, of rows of bullets clanking together. Daring to turn your head, you could see the drive had lit up five out of five clicks. The data was complete. They stepped into the room.

In a move you didn’t anticipate, Bucky‘s hand swiftly slid down the side of your hip and then around to the back of your thigh. You figured out rather quickly that he was going for your knives, but that didn’t stop the crazy ticklish feeling of his fingertips grazing down the back of your leg and worming into a pocket. Thankfully, the lights in the room were sparking and cracking from being shot at, so they covered most of the sound of a small breathy giggle bursting through your lips as your leg flinched away from his touch. The other thing that concealed your noise was Bucky’s free hand suddenly clamping over your mouth. He set his jaw and gave you a look that said, “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” A look that said, “This would be funny if we weren’t in so much danger right now.” You widened your eyes, then shut them tight when Bucky slipped two knives between two fingers out of your pocket and suddenly threw them with deadly precision.

Each blade hit a major artery in the two machine gun-wielding guards’ necks so fast, they didn’t have time to pull the trigger from instinct before their hands flew to the knives and they dropped to their knees, then one to his side and the other to his front. Bucky listened closely, then narrowed his eyes at you with his hand still stuck over your mouth.

“Keep your weapons somewhere else if you’re too ticklish,” he said with snark.

You scowled and shook his hand off your face, feeling yourself blush as he smirked. “How ‘bout you keep your hands off my knives. What happened to six mags?”

“They were coming too fast to reload,” he grunted and pulled you both out of the space. “Download complete. Let’s get out of here.”

You pulled the thumb drive from the computer and then opened some random files on the desktop to make it look like you’d been snooping or looking for something. While you were leaned over, you suddenly spluttered and an embarrassing squeak came out when Bucky’s hand was in and out of that back pocket in half a second. You whipped around just in time to see him hurl the knife across the lawn at that guard you’d seen lurking by the perimeter. This time he’d been aiming a gun at you, but Bucky’s throw caught him in the hip and his shot fired into the ground as he fell in pain.

Bucky gave you another look, more amused this time, and then pulled out the thin grappling wire from his belt. He shot the clamp towards the ground and winked, “We’ve really gotta work on that.” Then, he jumped backwards out the window. With a roll of your eyes, you pocketed the drive and followed suit.

Navigating out of the compound was relatively easy, which made the hair on the back of your neck stand up just a little bit. Still, you ran alongside Bucky, both of you remembering where the getaway car was parked. Only, you discovered when you got there, it wasn’t a car.

“I’m driving,” you chuckled, pulling out the key from the concealed pocket by your wrist.

“You know the rules,” Bucky plucked the key from your hand and smirked a grin as he strode over to the motorcycle. “You drove last time.”

“Why do you always get the cool rides,” you muttered as you settled on behind him. “Let’s just get out of here before they regroup and chase after us.”

He turned the engine on and revved it in agreement, so you tightened your grip around his waist and braced as he peeled off from the corner, leaving burnt rubber stuck to the road as your final trace on the scene.

As the wind whipped past and Bucky mazed through the streets of Dublin to lose any potential tail, you thought of that guard by the wall. You thought about the gun you didn’t see, the knife you didn’t throw. He’d just looked… you didn’t know, maybe young. Or scared. Which seemed a foolish assumption to make about someone who did private security for a man who furnished his guards with automatic weapons.

Bucky brought the bike to a stop behind a warehouse on the outskirts of town after nearly twenty minutes of evading. “I think we lost ‘em. What’s your read?”

“Me too,” you stretched for a second, then resettled. “How far to the safe house?”

“Two hours.”

“Can I drive?”

He chuckled and revved the engine again. You rolled your eyes. He took off, out of the city, and down the country roads.

You passed rolling fields of farmlands and livestock, humble abodes, cars, a school bus or two before you got too far out from the city. Making sure to analyse your surroundings, after about forty-five minutes of driving above the speed limit, you were sure you weren’t being followed. As you whipped past a scene of who you assumed to be a father and son throwing a ball beside their house, your mind returned to that guard. Maybe he had a family. A reason he was making money like that. Or maybe he liked it.

The data in your pocket felt heavier. Then, you remembered the report of gang violence borne from the narcotics the homeowner was trafficking, and the countless families and lives destroyed by the added ingredient which amplified addiction and fatality rates. Families like the father and son throwing a ball. Or the ones you’d seen in other country homes or small towns Bucky bypassed on the way to the other coast of Ireland. So you tried to relax and enjoy the fun of the ride.

Just as the sky began to turn golden, Bucky slowed the bike and turned up a long driveway. You could taste the sea salt in the air as it roared past your head, and once he reached the peak of the hill you caught your first glimpse of the beautiful coastline of towering stacked cliffs. A few houses were dotted here and there along near the edge, including one stunning building you were heading straight towards. It was a large one-story house, you could practically feel the high ceilings from the outside and from the glimpses in the windows. The architecture was modern and angular, polished wooden panels slatted together to create a sense of homeliness, yet elegance. In all honesty, your thoughts turned to how amazing the shower was going to feel as Bucky brought the bike to a full stop outside.

“It’s getting chilly,” you commented as you two walked to the front door and scanned in your biometrics. It clicked open with a welcoming chime and you stepped inside. It was warm and inviting, and your bags had been dropped in the entryway. When you two were fully inside, the door shut and locked itself. Based on past experiences in these houses, Fury would soon be notified that you’d checked in.

“Damn,” you whistled. You‘d switched on the lights and you two were met with a large open-plan kitchen and living area. “This place is nice.”

The ceiling-height windows, which were large because the ceiling was indeed quite high, were an unusual feature for a safe house but not unheard of. You saw straight through the wooden-floored area and right out over the grassy cliff and to the ocean. There was a hallway to your right which, you guessed, would lead to bedrooms and bathrooms. It was large, nicer than a lot of places you’d stayed before.

Eager to get something to eat, you immediately headed to the kitchen. Bucky followed you over while you shrugged off your jacket and draped it over one of the stools partially nestled beneath the marbled countertop. “Glad we made it here alive, considering we almost got shot because you can’t hold in a little laughter.”

“Are you still on that?” You gave him a look, then turned to open the fridge. It was stocked. You shut the door and turned back, placing your hands on the counter opposite him. He gave you an unimpressed glance, but you knew Bucky enough to know when he was actually annoyed. “It’s a normal human reaction. You shouldn’t give me shit for being ticklish. You wanna make pizza for dinner?”

“I’ll definitely be giving you shit for it. Are there olives?”

“I think so,” you turned around and cracked the fridge, then nodded. “Yeah, but they’re stuffed with something.” You looked over your shoulder. “And you can’t give me shit. That would make you a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

“You’re really gonna act like you’re not ticklish too?”

“I need to be able to rely on my partner,” he argued, ignoring your call-out, a smirk forming across his lips. “For anything. Including being able to supply me with weapons.”

“You can rely on me,” you argued back, shut the fridge and turned with your arms folded and your cheeks warming up as you mumbled “You just caught me off guard.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you set your jaw, then decided you had to try proving it. “Come, I’ll prove it. I have a knife in the other pocket,” you nodded to your left leg. “Take it.”

Bucky smirked wider and shrugged, taking steps to approach you. You rolled your eyes and turned around, then bit the side of your tongue and readied for his touch. He burst into a snarky chuckle. “I have never seen you so tense.” His hands met your shoulders to push them away from your ears and you growled in annoyance. “Very convincing.”

“Take the damn knife.”

“Fine,” he whispered loudly. You gritted your teeth and tried your hardest to not flinch when his fingers met the opening of the well-concealed pocket. He was being deliberately light and messy with his touch, but knowing that didn’t make it any less ticklish. Then, his fingers finally broke into the opening slit and all four scraped down the back of your fabric-covered leg in a motion that was far too sensitive to bear. Unprofessional giggles burst through your lips as you jump-shuffled away from him and then groaned.

“Okay, whatever!” You whipped around and glared at where he was laughing with his arms crossed. “What you want me to do about it, huh?” You challenged, taking steps towards him. “It’s not like you can hold it in. I’ll show y-”

You’d made a lunge to grab at his sides but hands were around your outstretched arms in an instant. He looked down at you with something dangerous and playful in his eyes. You met his gaze, your own eyes narrowed. One wrong move, and you’d start something that he’d probably be the one to finish. But Bucky was ticklish, and that was far too funny to ignore.

“Aww,” you pouted, then smirked. “Super-soldier afraid of a little tickling?”

He scoffed, and his smirk returned. “You’re gonna regret that,” he promised.

Bucky had trained you very well, specifically to work with him. Over the past year and a half you’d learned his moves and methods inside and out. The serum meant it could never be a fair fight, but Bucky’s instructions and your will to improve at all costs meant sometimes you could gain the upper hand. It would be hard, now, with your wrists already in his grasp, but you started grappling anyway.

Pulling your feet from underneath yourself, you let the surprise of your drop pull Bucky forward and off-balance enough to twist your wrist away from his metal fist. He’d always been afraid of accidentally crushing your bones, so he always had a weaker hold with the vibranium hand. Using the leverage of your downwards swing, you slotted around behind him and wrapped your legs around his ankles, sending him even further forward. He had to let go of your other wrist to break his fall without breaking your arm. He landed on his front with a grunt and you flew forwards, your digging fingers finding his ribs with terrifying speed. Because, hell, this was probably the only shot you’d get.

Much to your delight, Bucky jolted and fell more into the ground as his arms clamped against his sides and he failed to hide his breathy laughter. You giggled and jeered for the several seconds you managed to attack while he composed himself to fight. Then, his leg came up and knocked you sideways. A grunt of battle left your lips as you reached up to continue your torment, only barely squeezing at his hip before he barked out a laugh and pushed himself out of reach. You sat, partially propped up, and laughed in triumph as Bucky caught his breath and then turned to you with a menacing stare. It made your blood run cold but you couldn’t show him that. He’d taught you to never show fear to an opponent.

He laughed once, then twice, then chuckled as he brought himself to his hands and knees and looked at the floor, mustering the strength and energy he had to ready himself to take you down swiftly.

Maybe it was the nail in your own coffin to say it, but you gave it a shot: “So should I pre-heat the oven, or-” You cut yourself off with a suppressed gasp and a mighty shove backwards to slide along the smooth floor and out of reach of the swipe he’d made for you. You got to your feet and ran the only way you could - further into the living room, further trapping you. There were a few boxy minimalist couches that looked comfortable enough, and a very large sheepskin rug between them. You casted a glance up to the ceiling and saw the rafters looked especially nice for hanging from.

“That’s a stupid plan,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “You’ll never get up there in time.” He took a step forwards, you took one back.

“So what’s the play here?” You jutted out your chin, challenging him. “If you were in my shoes, how would you get out of this?”

“Brute strength.”

“If you didn’t have that,” you narrowed your eyes, stepping behind one of the couches as Bucky slowly advanced. “What would you do?”

He shrugged and then picked up his pace.

“You’d go for the rafters, you jerk,” you scoffed a laugh and darted out of his reach.

“No I wouldn’t.”

“Then wha-HAT would you do?” You repeated, narrowly avoiding him by side-stepping another swipe. It was futile, you knew that, so it came as no surprise when his hand finally closed around your upper arm and pulled you back against him.

You turned to fight but he swept your ankles, bringing you crashing down to your side on the sheepskin rug. Twisting and kicking did nothing as he expertly took your blows against his forearm, then used your own momentum to flip you firmly onto your front. Feeling your desperation mount with the reality of how screwed you were settling in, you tried pulling a leg up to crawl away. Bucky grabbed your ankles and yanked you backwards before straddling your knees, pinning your legs firmly to the floor. With a grunt, you tried to turn. Bucky had already started grabbing for your wrists. In less than five more seconds, he was hovered over you with your hands trapped in his metal fist, fixed to your lower back.

It was a very immobilising position, which made your breath pick up and a small whimper slip out. You turned and grimaced when you saw the backs of your thighs completely open and vulnerable to him.

“Who’s afraid now?” Bucky leered, metal fingers twitching around your wrists. You rolled your eyes and tried to stop your blush.

“Get it over with so we can make pizza.”

“Get what over with?”

You huffed. “Your payback.”

“This isn’t payback,” Bucky said. You flinched when his fingers once again met the pocket. “This is training.”

You pressed your lips together and squealed into your mouth, burst of air breaking through as his fingers worked their way into that same damn place. He stopped and pulled away. You let out your breath.

“Payback comes later,” he promised. “First, we’re gonna do this until you can control it.”

You felt your mouth go dry, your eyes widen, your cheeks go up in flames as you stared at the sheepskin inches from your face. “What?!” You tugged on the way he held you, finding it, of course, unwavering. “You can’t be serious.”

“Control it, and we’re done,” he said matter-of-factly. There was an infuriating smile in his voice.

“Oh, get on with it then!” You seethed and pressed your face into the soft wool. Your composure was short-lived because Bucky didn’t even try to be delicate next time he slotted his fingers into the pocket. Laughter burst out of you and your feet kicked as much as they could with his seat pinning your knees to the floor. You twisted for the few seconds it took for him to touch the handle of the small hidden blade, but then he retracted his hand once again. You caught your breath and turned your head to rest more comfortably against the carpet. “Cahan’t we just change where the pohocket is?”

“Again,” Bucky told you, ignoring your perfectly reasonable question.

But again, you immediately fell into hysterics and tugged on your wrists when his searching fingers wormed into the pocket. Part of you suspected he was making it unbearable on purpose, but you really didn’t have a way to defy him. He pulled away to reset and you giggled nervously, giving a whine. “We’re gonna be he-here all nihight,” you said, glancing up to see him far too amused.

He shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Mmmmno!” You whined once more but cut yourself off with a shriek when Bucky’s fingers wiggled more harshly against the back of your thigh, as if the space he was trying to enter was difficult and fortified. He was definitely doing this on purpose. “BUHUCK!” You jolted and thrashed once or twice before he stopped. You gasped for breath. His hand was still in the pocket.

“Wow,” he let out a low hum. “Is it really that bad?” He answered his own question when he ripped his hand away from inside your clothing and then lightly scratched at the back of your other leg. You exploded in squealing laughter, fighting hard against him as he scratched at the hyper-sensitive spot like one might lovingly scratch a pet’s furry coat. After you’d given a tiny scream, he pulled away completely.

“I’m huhungry!” You protested, slamming a foot against the ground. “Cut it out- this isn’t helping!”

“Fine, training’s over,” he released your wrists and you sighed in relief. It was short-lived, because you remembered what he’d said the second before he shot forward and straddled your hips. “Time for payback.”

“Nuh-no-NAHAHA!” You shrieked and squirmed when five squeezing fingers met each side of your rib cage. Bursting in ticklish helplessness, you tried whatever your panicked mind could muster the tactical reasoning to do.

Planting your feet against the floor to push didn’t help, neither did trying to squirm out from under his seat, and pushing at his hands was the worst idea of all because it gave him the opening to shoot his fingers up and slot them into the open spaces underneath your arms. “N-” was all you got out before falling into silent laughter with your arms clamped tight at your sides. The breath could barely leave your lungs, only in gasps, as Bucky chuckled over you and dug his fingers in even deeper. When he did, something broke and you let rip a long, loud, sustained scream.

Whether it was the shock or the sympathy, something made Bucky pull away and burst into his own laughter. He sat back and you saw him clutch his chest from the corner of your eye as you coughed, whined, and then laughed at the pure humour of how loud your scream was. As Bucky kept laughing, so did you, just at the hilarity of it all. It felt nice to laugh with him. It always did.

“You’ve got a problem,” he taunted, and pinched at one of your hips. You jumped again, which made him laugh. “It’s not safe to be this ticklish.” He then took to drilling his fingers at both of your hips, as if he had no idea it wouldn’t be immensely, horrifically, ticklish. Loud and deep laughter once again resounded through the living room as you grabbed at his hands and thrashed underneath him.

“BUCK PLEHEHEASE!” You shouted into the carpet, feet scrambling behind you, try to not kick him since that would only egg him on. Bucky just laughed, gave a fake menacing growl, and kneaded his fingers even faster. You shrieked and then flipped with all your might, trying to throw him off. Instead, he pushed himself up onto his knees as you violently turned and then settled back down to pin you again. You gasped and moved to fight but his hands were already clawing at your stomach, so all you could do was grab his wrists and press your head hard into the carpet as you erupted into giggles.

“We really shoulda put you through some training for this,” Bucky called to you over the noise of your laughter and your struggle. You kneed him hard in the back, which made him scoff a laugh and then hook his fingers around the sides of your lower ribs. There was nothing you could really do except lay there and take it, so you switched your focus to trying to block it out. Maybe he was onto something with the training f-

“AHH!”

Nope.

You screeched and sat up underneath him when his fingers found the place where your sides became your back, just below the centre of your ribcage. Knowing it was futile, you still shoved at his chest. He brought his hands up to grab yours but you evaded, landing a blow at his own ribs causing him to flinch. He narrowed his eyes and you gritted your teeth as you swiped and dodged and landed sharp but controlled blows to each other. After Bucky missed the chance to subdue you one too many times, he suddenly threw his weight forward and sent your upper body crashing back down to the carpet with his near full weight pinning you there.

Squirming and laughing nervously, you strained to pull your arms into your control to fight him off. Bucky’s face sat just above your shoulder, his eyes flitting up to catch yours and give you a provoking stare. He was challenging you to get out of this, to fight back, but he knew he’d win.

Distracting you with his look, he shot a hand out and wrangled your wrist into his hold before starting to drag it along the carpet up over your head. “You’re right,” he chuckled as he handled you with ease. “I would’ve taken the rafters.”

“Oh, you’re such a- ugh!” You gave a valiant effort pulling against him, but ultimately winced and tugged to no avail. Just as he went for your other hand, you heard it.

Your stomach dropped.

That specific ringtone resounded from the kitchen and you recognised it instantly. It was hard not to. It was loud and abrasive and one you’d chosen specifically for him because it was hard to ignore, and missing his calls always just lead to more drama.

Bucky saw your face go a bit grey in a stark contrast from the warm golden laughs he’d just pulled from you. He felt your wrist tense against his, and saw the way your tongue went a little heavy in your mouth.

“That’s my personal phone,” you said, not meeting his eye. “I need to get that.”

There was some hesitance in your tone, so he dug a little further. “Are you faking a call to get out of-”

“I-It’s my dad I need to pick up,” you fumbled out and lost all enjoyment in your eyes. He pushed himself off of you before you had to struggle again, and you quickly got to your feet to dash over and answer the phone. “Hey, Dad,” you sounded a little breathless as you held the phone to your ear and walked down the hallway. “Woah, hang on, can you please-” was all Bucky heard before he made a conscious effort to not listen in.

He brought himself to his feet and dusted some of the wool from the carpet off his knees as he wracked his brain and realised you’d never talked about your family. Or, families. Either of you. Which was strange because Bucky felt like you knew each other pretty well. He thought about it more as he opened the fridge and started pulling out the stuff to make pizzas.

You knew each other’s favourite sports teams, meals, genres of movies to watch. He knew you hated red wine and you knew he loved cherry pie but hated peach cobbler - which you insisted was weird because they were like “dessert cousins.” Yeah… you’d said something like that and he’d laughed and rolled his eyes and pushed the plate of cobbler over to you as you sat undercover in some filthy diner.

Maybe you’d never talked about your family because you didn’t want to make him feel like he needed to talk about his. Not that he’d mind, there wasn’t much to tell, but you‘d never been one to pry into his past. Forget the Winter Soldier eras - you’d never asked one question about his experiences with the Avengers, or in World War II, or in Wakanda. The most you’d asked about his past was seeing a news report of Wilson at a press conference and asking if he knew what Bucky was up to. Thinking about that time, the soldier couldn’t honestly recall that he’d reacted badly… no, he definitely didn’t do anything to ward you off asking questions. Still, he was quietly thankful that you always seemed far more interested in knowing Bucky now than Bucky then.

The kitchen was large but laid out and stocked with common sense. Bucky found cutting boards and knives with ease after taking out the relevant ingredients and splaying them across the counter. There was some champagne ham he thought would go rather nicely on his pizza, so he started slicing it into smaller pieces before getting to work on the rest of it.

Just before he’d finished prepping all the ingredients, he heard a door slam. Slinging the kitchen towel over his shoulder, he wiped the pineapple juice against it and called your name. You didn’t answer. He tossed the towel down and started walking towards the hallway. That’s when, from the corner of his eye, he saw you. Through the massive panes of glass which overlooked a small wooden deck, then the grassy embankment before the cliff dropped down to the rocks and the sea, he saw you looking out over the water with your arms wrapped around yourself. There must have been another door in a bedroom. He watched for a minute, then picked up your jacket and mustered the courage he knew he’d one day need; you couldn’t build a closeness like yours without the inevitability of an encounter like this.

He didn’t know when or how it had happened. Maybe it started when you’d traded your carrot cake for his berry tart at that cafe in Paris, knowing he’d like yours more. Maybe sometime from then, or maybe when he’d let you drive the JetSki in Bali for no other reason than he’d seen the way you looked at it, he’d decided that the inevitability of this kind of conversation was worth the friendship you could have. So he let you in. And you ran with it.

Still, this felt entirely unfamiliar. You were the partner who made sassy quips to hide the searing pain as he dug bullets from your skin, who joked about his lack of skill in administering stitches and said it would be his fault if a potential hook-up got put off by your jagged scars. Each time, he'd playfully glare and remind you that anyone deterred by such a thing certainly couldn't handle you.

This was different than those times. Or the times he'd place your beaten body in the safe-house bathtub and help you strip off the clothing, assessing your injuries as you made attempts at humour. He'd scoff a laugh every time, sometimes roll his eyes to distract you from the concern welling up in him each time you'd smile and he'd see some blood frame the insides of your lips.

He'd never seen you cry. Something, he was sure, you were proud of. After all, agents didn't cry over physical pain and that was the only kind of pain he'd ever seen you endure. Until now. There was a heaviness in your hunched shoulders that showed someone carrying the weight of an imploding world. He fidgeted his fingers around your jacket, and wondered if his presence would do more harm than good.

Since coming off the ice, there'd been countless times he'd felt out of his depth. The cultural differences were getting easier to navigate, as was the access to information, then the workings-through of everything he'd done as a bystander in his own body - it was obviously overwhelming at times. No one could blame him for that. For the hundreds of dead bodies - sure, if they wanted to. But not for feeling in over his head.

Back then, in his time, they didn't talk about feelings. Sometimes Steve could pull something from Bucky's heart, but the formerly-taller man liked to keep it light. With the war and everything, it was best to keep it light. Him and Steve talking about being overwhelmed, about coping, grief, guilt - those were conversations borne of the twenty-first century. Bucky hadn't had nearly enough of them before Steve left. It felt too hard now. But there you were, standing close to the edge, gazing into the churning sea, and a conversation needed to be had.

So he walked across the living room with your jacket in his hands, opened the sliding glass door, and stepped outside.

Bucky nearly held his breath as he approached. Your arms were still around yourself. You didn't look at him as he stood next to you, so he didn't look at you either. From his peripherals, it didn't seem like you'd been crying. He held out your jacket on the tip of one finger. You turned to him, looked at it, looked at him, and then took it.

"When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

The question surprised Bucky and he answered: "I don't remember." It wasn't a lie.

"I wanted to be a cop," you scoffed a laugh, settling the jacket and pulling your long sleeves out from where they’d bunched up inside. "Then, when I found out what a detective was, I wanted to be that. Solve crimes, take down bad guys." You paused, looked at your feet and then over at Bucky. "Do you think I'm suited to this life? Am I… good at the job?"

He looked at you with a stare which conveyed confusion; how on earth could you be asking him this question? "Uh, yeah," he nodded warily, you smiled a bit. "You're scarily good at the job." You laughed once or twice and turned back to the sea, giving a one-shouldered shrug.

"That's good to know. I've always felt drawn to the work, but that's good to know."

It fell silent again and Bucky didn't know how to respond. Should he put a hand on your shoulder? He stood by your right side so it would be the metal hand and that could be not super comforting, but maybe the gesture was enough and-

"I think I just got disowned."

That made Bucky almost scoff out loud. What? He turned his body to face yours but you stayed stone-faced towards the ocean. "What?"

“My father believes life should be done a certain way. You grow up, you get a job, you get married, if you’re a woman you stay home with the kids, you take them to church, you cook and clean and look after your family. That’s how it’s done.” Bucky saw the tears well up in your eyes, finally. “I’ve never wanted that,” you whispered. “But that’s the only thing he wants from me. Anything else is failure.”

Twenty-first century Bucky said something 1940’s Bucky would probably be shocked by.

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know,” you scoffed. “Just now on the phone he said there was a nice young man excited to meet me at my cousin’s wedding next month and I should remember to put some effort in.” You shoved your hands into the pockets of the jacket. “And I know what kind of man he’d want for me - someone just like him - so told him I wasn’t interested and it became this whole thing, I don’t know…” You trailed off. “At least I have this job. This is something.”

“This is good,” he said. It felt insufficient, and confused, but it was a lot of what he could muster through how his heart ached for you. “You’re making a difference.”

“They don’t care,” you smiled, clearly trying to hold back your tears in front of him. “He’s over it. He said “don’t come home until you quit” and apparently he means it this time. I thought after everything… he’d changed, he’d… whatever,” you whispered. “Fuck him. I don’t need him.”

Bucky opened his mouth, hoping something useful would come out, but a fear of saying the entirely wrong thing gripped his throat. Also the guilt, the shame, of a time when he felt the same way your father had about who did what, how lives should be lived. He couldn’t blame HYDRA for the way he used to think, back before the war. He could only blame his time, his lack of understanding, his era. He didn’t know what to say.

It wouldn’t be fair to you to insist your blood came first, because it shouldn’t. Not if it didn’t respect you, your autonomy, your life choices. Especially not choices as noble as yours. He also couldn’t give a “fuck him” of camaraderie, because he doubted stirring your anger would be useful right now. If there was something Bucky Barnes knew about the power of emotions, it’s that anger was a useful distraction from pain.

With the bravery of a humble foot soldier, he let his desire for eloquence fall to the wayside. “He’s wrong to not be proud of you,” he said, hoping the words that came out made sense in the way he wanted them to. “You don’t… owe him the life he wants you to live. You don’t owe him a big wedding, or grandkids in stupid matching outfits, or-or Christmas cards. And if he’s gonna kick you out until you comply, you don’t owe him a daughter.”

Bucky didn’t know if he said the wrong thing, or exactly the right thing but you sniffed harder, and started to cry.

The tears began to fall and you covered your face with your hands. Bucky took a step closer and instinctively put his hand on your forearm, pressing gently to guide you to the safety of the ground away from the ledge. You let him move you, taking a few steps backwards as you sniffed and spluttered. And before he gave himself room to doubt, Bucky's other hand met your shoulder and he stepped closer.

At first, you shook your head and pressed your elbows against him. When he stopped pulling on you, you didn't step away or tell him to piss off, you just kept breathing fast and heavy between coughs and stuttered cries. So he tried again, and you removed a hand to press at his chest. Your flattened palm shoved, then went still, then curled into a desperate grip around the fabric over his heart. Bravely, you looked up at him with tears spilling down your cheeks.

There was so much in your eyes that Bucky could feel tugging at his heart. He could see this internal storm brewing as you looked to the person who so often patched you up. Dark clouds fell across your glance as you let yourself accept Bucky could not fix this. This was no bullet wound, no busted lip, no cracked rib. This was real pain.

Bucky had to let himself accept that he couldn’t shelter you from the impending hurricane. He did, however, have the strength to weather it with you. He could only hope it would be enough, as his hand at your shoulder met the base of your neck, and again pulled you in. This time, you stepped into him, and buried your face against his chest as you cried.

The icy late afternoon wind pushed against him as he held you close, and he turned just a few inches so his back would bear the brunt of it. He held you against his warm body and rested his chin on top of your head. You cried hard, and would sometimes shake your head and half-heartedly push him away, but you’d always stop trying to leave his comfort the second you felt how his hold didn’t waver.

So there you stood with his arms around you, his right hand ever so often squeezing your shoulder where it had landed. You stopped fighting him when you were sure he wasn’t looking for any excuse to let you go. Still, it was hard to accept. He’d seen so much of you, your body, your mind and your desire for life, but he’d never seen you like this. No one had ever seen you like this. Any sort of emotional response was never tolerated in your house growing up. It was never beaten out of you, you were never yelled at to stop crying, but there would be comments. Snide remarks about how this is why women can’t be in charge, when you got teary over your family pet needing to be put down. Scoffs and sarcastic jokes when you were six years old and asked your dad how the game he was watching was played. If you had a clear memory of that specific time, you’d know it was the Super Bowl and you weren’t supposed to be in the room - you were supposed to be helping your mother in the kitchen and then sitting with the ladies outside. But you didn’t have a specific memory of that time, just how it all made you feel.

Bucky’s hand laced through the hair at the nape of your neck. His heartbeat was strong and steady. He sheltered you from the dusk wind.

Around the time you became a teenager your father’s over-protectiveness started manifesting in derogatory comments on the clothes you’d wear or the sports you’d played or the careers you expressed interest in. It was about this time, also, that you started going toe-to-toe with him. You refused to go to church, so he took your phone away. The phone you’d paid for with money you’d earned cleaning yards. You wouldn’t call him “sir,” so he took your bedroom door. You’d beg your mother to reason with him, but she’d chosen this life and she didn’t understand why you couldn’t just go along with it. She’d tell you that your father bought her anything she needed, and most of what she wanted, he was a provider, he’d provide for you too if you weren’t so hell-bent on defying him.

Bucky’s hand slid to your waist and pulled you in closer when a stronger gust hit. The icy wind nipped at your ears. He pulled your hood up, then held you tighter.

Around the time you were seventeen you moved out for good. You’d kept receipts of all the clothes you’d ever bought, which came in handy when your father stood in your doorway as you packed and snarked that you better not take anything he paid for. You pulled out the folder of the copies of the receipts, itemised with photos of the clothing next to it, threw it at his feet and told him you wouldn’t leave with any of his property. When you saw the look in his eye, you could tell he knew you chose the word “property” for a reason; you were leaving, so you were not his.

You felt your breath slow, the tears slow, your mind slow, as the gentle pressure of his hand in your hair pulled you to the present. Still you felt far away. Helpless. Bucky didn’t say anything, thank God for him.

Your father only started changing his tune when you hadn’t come home for two years and it made your mother cry to talk about you. Then, he started being kinder with his words. He asked you how your studies were going on family calls. You’d tell him you were top of your class, but you knew that didn’t matter because a degree in Political Science didn’t make you any more or less qualified to serve beer and hot wings on Super Bowl Sunday. You knew he talked to you for her. For your mother.

Then, you turned to dust.

When you reemerged into life it had been five years and you found out your mother had disintegrated too, and your brother. Your father was left with no one except his aging mother. Your grandmother passed away in those years between the universe being torn apart then stitched back together. She went quietly, in her sleep, and then your father was truly alone. He never told you how he felt, if he thought about moving on, if he had hope, all you knew is that when you drove fourteen hours straight and ran into their front door, everyone cried. All four of you. You stayed for a week and it had been perfect.

After he’d filled you in on what he could manage, there wasn’t a lot to catch up with. The world had changed and was still grieving but was about to change again so the past felt unimportant. So you laughed and baked pies with your mother and kicked a soccer ball with your little brother and talked to your father about the World War II book he was reading. He seemed pleasantly surprised by your engagement in the content, and you laughed and said you did an entire semester on it, it was fascinating. He’d gotten an e-reader while you were gone but was kind of useless at it, so you showed him how to navigate it and downloaded some books on the war you knew he’d love. It had been good. But that was nearly two years ago now and everyone was desperate for life to get back to normal.

You could’ve sworn your heartbeat fell into rhythm with his as you sensed the sky darken around you. Your eyes were still shut, but the night was strong and obvious and demanded to be seen. You started to feel guilty, for keeping Bucky out here with you. He must be hungry. He must think you were-

“Don’t you dare feel bad about this,” Bucky commanded in a low voice when he felt you start to wither away. “I’m here for you, you understand?”

There was no fight left in you but you didn’t need it - you had all the trust in the world to know you were safe here. So you nodded, and started pulling away. The night air hit your face which felt tight and puffy from crying. The tears had dried but your head ached with the pressure and the release of stress. Drowsiness pulled at your mind.

“C’mere,” he whispered, wrapped an arm around your shoulder and walked back to the house with you. It was nice from the back too. The wooden minimalist architecture shaped perfectly around the feature windows. You could see the ingredients on the kitchen counter and fought the urge to apologise for leaving him to prepare dinner by himself. Instead, you swore to yourself you’d do the dishes and not take no for an answer.

“I’m gonna just-” you motioned to your face and he understood, going back to the kitchen to turn on the oven.

After splashing some cold water on your face and not thinking too hard about your post-crying puffiness, you went in search of that wine cellar he’d mentioned on the phone. It wasn’t hidden, and you found a bottle of white you know you’d both enjoy, returning to find him at the kitchen island with the kitchen towel draped over his shoulder. You chuckled and set the bottle down.

“Domestic life suits you,” you half-grinned, then pulled two wine glasses from the glass-fronted cabinet.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever have a standard domestic life,” he smiled shyly back. “I’m not sure if I used to want that, or if it’s just what everyone did,” he offered up, popping an olive in his mouth before turning and putting the first pizza in the over. “After everything happened,” he started over his shoulder, then turned back. “I dunno, I guess it seemed… unimportant.”

“How so?”

“Well I’ve got this arm which, you’d be surprised to know, doesn’t exactly make women swoon.”

“Swoon?”

“Give me a break, I was born in 1917,” he held a hand up with a firm glare, then used it to sprinkle cheese on the second pizza. You grinned. “Yeah, you know, I was actually something of a playboy in the forties.”

“Oho, were you now?”

“As much as a guy can be while dragging their twerp of a friend along,” he muttered, and gave you a look. “I was an excellent wingman. Steve just always had his head somewhere else.”

You smiled at the mention of his best friend. “Where else?”

“With the world. With an urge to stand up and fight…” Bucky said. There was something else at the tip of his tongue, so you didn’t prod. Instead, you let him decide if he wanted to say it or not. Then, he did. After he turned and put a chopping board in the sink, he wiped his hands on the towel and slowly came back to face you. “You remind me of him. In a lot of ways. Sam, y’know, he’s Cap now and I don’t doubt him the way I used to. He’s the Captain America the world needs right now.” Bucky half-smiled at some distant fond memory, looking down at the bench. “But I realised a while ago that you don’t have to be Captain America to make a difference.” He looked back up. “The world will always need people like Steve Rogers. People like you.”

“And you.”

“I’m no hero,” Bucky smiled sincerely, a little sadly. “I thought I should keep away from everyone. Buy a little cabin in the woods in, catch up on books and music until I die, that sort of thing, but Steve… he, uh… he asked me to stay. To make sure the new Cap got settled in.”

Braving it, you asked, “Where is he now? Steve.” It was the first time you’d dared to ask a question about Steve Rogers and boy, was it a doozy.

Bucky didn’t seem phased, instead he smiled and slid the pizza on a tray to add to the one in the oven. “Did I ever tell you how they did it? How they brought everyone back?”

You shook your head and reached for the wine bottle, “I only know the official narrative. The same as the rest of the world.”

“You’re not stupid. You know there’s more to it.”

“Everyone does.”

“Well,” Bucky slid his glass over. “One bottle isn’t going to be nearly enough, but settle in,” he nodded with something serious in his eye, but something real and open. You smiled shyly before filling his glass, and then your own.

Say what you want about Bucky Barnes, what he’d done, how his life turned out, his choices now… whether or not you agree with his quasi-reintegration into modern society, there was one thing that wasn’t up for debate:

“Did you know raccoons can talk?”

He had a hell of a way to start a story.

[wild-jackalope]

First time having sex is awkward!

pairing :: Virgin!Megumi x Virgin!Reader

warning :: college/university AU, awkward sex, safe sex (finally), lingerie stuff, fingering, slight overstim, very soft, would you hate me if I said this wasn’t rly proof read, need this out of my drafts asap

note :: very inspired by @sonotpattismith fic Hold Me And Explore Me, here’s the link!

For the years you’ve been friends with Megumi you’ve never ever known him to discuss a single intimate topic. For the five months you’ve been in a relationship with him, that fact never changed.

Megumi was a prude, basically.

It wasn’t as though you were one to spill secrets about your personal moments either. Occasionally you’d let the odd story slip when drunk (mainly letting loose some poor experiences being felt up during your younger years of dating), but other than that, you kept your mouth shut.

So when Maki asked you a completely out of pocket question, both you and your boyfriend turned to ice.

“Have the two of you even fucked yet?”

No. Of course you haven’t. You hadn’t even come close! Despite the air being thickened by everyone’s collective drunkenness, you felt a small part of you would resent Maki for the rest of your life after putting you in this situation.

Your jaw slacked open and you took in a breath. The truth lilting on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t ask personal questions like that.” Megumi cut, to everyone’s collective disappointment, they groaned. Somewhat tipsy himself, Megumi still had the clarity to get the others off your scent and thankfully his harsh words had sent them on another chatting spree devoid of your sex life.

Maki, keen gaze still locked on both you and Megumi, muttered a swift. “Guess you haven’t put that set to use, huh.” Before taking a sip of her vodka mix.

You flushed immediately, embarrassment mixing with the warm alcohol in your bloodstream, coating your cheeks a deep plum colour. Mortification filling your wide eyes, you glanced at Megumi who held an unbothered expression, one of boredom and calm.

But for a split second, his dark blues swiped over you and you caught the slightest hint of curiosity in his narrow gaze. What set?

You snapped your head forward, neck aching from the whiplash.

The ‘set’ Maki was referring to, was bought during a shopping trip Nobara invited both of you to. She needed a refill on her skincare items, Maki needed a new set of sports bras and you needed an excuse to leave your dorm room.

Maki’s chosen store was the closest, so the three of you headed there first. Inside, your eyes caught on the walls covered with expensive underwear made of lace and silk hanging on thin mannequins.

“I should get a new bra, too, my favourites are getting worn out.” Nobara mumbled, looking at the odd racks assembled by colour and size.

A particularly captivating bodysuit grabbed your attention; a smooth ivory piece decorated with straps and shining gemstones, having tuffs of silk peak out of the sides like a skirt and wings. The shiny fabric called to rest comfortably against your skin. It was the most expensive, being shown off at the front of the store to lure young women who wanted to wrap their pretty bodies and show off to their boyfriends. Just like you.

“That one’s too cutesy.” Nobara uttered, following your tranced gaze. “Lingerie is a scam anyway, truth is men don’t even care. They just take it off.”

That was right, Nobara had had sex. Unlike you.

“Would you… help me pick something nice out?” You asked, a gentle and shy invitation.

Despite her previous slander of lingerie, her cheeks glowed in excitement. “Sure. For you and Fushiguro, right?”

“I guess so.” You kindly but nervously replied. Nobara lead you deeper into the store, coming to a back wall with more designs, all notably darker with plenty more lace.

She gazed over the options. “What do you usually like to wear?” She asked.

“I don’t know— nothing?” You responded, awkward hand lifting to fiddle with a purple bralet.

Nobara side eyed you, giving a suspicious look before she asked— much too casually. “First time?”

“Yes.” You nodded, the fabric of the bralet suddenly becoming very interesting!

“First time with Fushiguro, or?” Her trail lilted delicately, hopefully displaying herself as a safe person to spill your secrets to.

“First, first time.” You uttered quietly.

In a quick swish, Nobara grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to her. “Seriously?” She asked.

“Yes, seriously. Is it hard to believe?” You frowned, too mortified for her questioning.

She nodded. “Yes! You’re a total catch.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.” You added, hands defensively rising to your chest. “I’ve been in relationships before, I’ve—” you lowered your voice. “I’ve fooled around.”

“Oh I bet you have.” She added, grin replacing her surprised gape.

“Stop it, you’re so embarrassing.” You pushed against her shoulder, freeing yourself from her death grip.

“Okay, first set, first set.” Mind now back to the mission, she returned to the racks of bras and thongs. “You should have something simple, but sexy. Black, too.”

“Why black?” Plenty of other colours filled the store.

“Fushiguro likes dark things, so he’ll like black on you.” The sensible explanation left her with a shrug.

Would that really be the case? Would Megumi look at your body being cupped by expensive black fabric and yearn for you? You could hardly imagine it. Megumi was never eager for anything, he was the type of guy to react to things with tame calmness. Would he blush? Reach to touch you? Kiss you?

Nobara handed you a neat, black matching bra and thong. “Go try this on.” She instructed, offering you an encouraging smile.

Face to face with your lewdly dressed body and flushed expression in the dressing room only made your anxiousness grow. Nobara had picked a beautiful set, a nicely patterned lace bra broken up by thick black straps pushed up your boobs, coined by a gemstone hanging off the middle. Small ripples of black sheer peaked from the supportive boning, similarly decorating the thin black straps curving around your hips holding up the lacy thong which too, had a gemstone hanging off the centre.

Fuck, Nobara had good taste.

But despite the fact you bought the matching underwear a month ago, nothing came of it. You’d worn it every single time you saw Megumi; a casual date at the park, an afternoon out at the movies, a night in lounging around. Just in case, you had thought, just in case something happens.

And because you wore them everytime you saw Megumi, they clung to your body now, at the very party Maki judged you for not having shown them off yet.

You sipped at your bitter alcohol mix, avoiding both the stares of your boyfriend and your friend. Nobara’s chanting became a welcome distraction, telling Yuji to ‘drink drink drink!’ Down his can of rum. Everyone cheered at his final gulp, including you.

Megumi, however, remained silent.

When the night came to a tired end (at about two in the morning), Megumi and yourself walked to your dorm in a sobering stumbled.

Arms around his neck, you brought Megumi into the plush bed with you, planting messy kisses along his hairline and laughing about the mischief of the night. “Itadori is going to be so hungover.” You muttered.

“Hm.” He thoughtlessly replied, craning his head so your lips made contact with his instead. He leaned over you, slowly letting his body sink into yours and sandwiching you between the bed and him.

In these moments of privacy you felt closest to Megumi. He’d unabashedly pull you in, kiss you and hold you tight.

You hummed against his lips, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his hair, a trick you knew would immediately cause him to go soft against you, and he did, waist falling between your legs and hands twitching against your sides. He groaned softly and you wished you could record the sound and add it to a private playlist.

Chasing the mild heat in your abdomen, you furthered the kisses shared, moving into making out instead of peppery pecks. He followed you, daring to nip at your bottom lip (a habit he’d picked up from the one time you did it to him).

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his warmth in closer. That shift was what made both your clothed sexes connect. Jolted by the feeling, Megumi slipped from your lips to your ear, whispering a breathy command.

“Show me your set.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking, but he had an idea, a lewd idea. He knew he needed to know what Maki was talking about, what she knew about his girlfriend that he didn’t.

You gulped, an audible squeak catching in your throat. “You really want to see?” You asked.

He nodded silently, watching your every move as you hesitantly lifted your shirt up and over your head. His narrow eyes grew wide at the sight of your tits cupped by the stunning black garment. You hid in the pillow behind you, digging half your face into the plush at his bewildered expression.

Megumi’s hand had already began moving without him thinking. In what seemed like slow motion, his large palm came to fit around your boob. His thumb rubbed over the soft lace and because of its thin fabric, you gasped as it tickled your sensitive middle.

The noise sobered Megumi from his drunk, tranced state and he pulled his hand away like it had acted on its own free will. He sat up, eyes concentrated on your flushed, messy figure. Fuck, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“I should go.” He uttered softly, pressing a curt kiss to your head.

“What? But—” You babbled something, voice cracking.

“This isn’t a good time, it’s late, you’re drunk.” He reassured your rejection with another kiss.

“You won’t stay?” You asked, leaving you as more of a plea.

“Not tonight.” He finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were then left empty and cold, and despite wrapping yourself in layers of blankets, you felt as naked as ever. The question what was wrong with you? Pulling you into a drunkenly tear filled sleep.

The next morning, the barking of your third alarm pulled you from your slumber. You smacked at the screen of your phone, lifting your now throbbing head from the sweet embrace of your pillow.

Almost immediately Megumi’s rejection of you last night reminded you why your eyes were so crusty with dried tears. However, you didn’t have much time to linger on it, already being late for your morning lecture.

Lunch was when you saw Megumi next. You were reading over your papers in the yard with a furrowed brow, your phone to your ear.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You asked.

“I mean I don’t know! You’ve know Fushiguro pretty much the same amount of time I have, why don’t you know if he’s had sex?” Nobara snapped back, voice slightly fuzzy through your phone. “Oh, let’s not forget the fact you’re also his girlfriend!”

“I know, I just— ugh. Why is this so complicated?” You huffed.

“It really isn’t, girl. You’re just making it complicated.” She added back, unfiltered judgment in her tone.

“I know, I know.” You were weak before her unwavering moral superiority.

“Talk to him. Neither of you did anything wrong, he was probably still drunk and didn’t want to show you he had whisky dick or maybe he is a virgin and was just too nervous to fuck you.” You wondered for a brief moment who Nobara was around that could hear her talk about your (lack of) sex life.

“I doubt it.” You murmured. Finally your eyes caught the tall shadow that was Megumi and you fiddle to catch your phone as it dropped from your hand. “I gotta go, he’s here. Bye!”

One hand deep in his pocket and the other carrying a bag bloated with book, Megumi walked to you, standing tall over your sitting self.

“Nobara?” He asked, head jutting towards your phone.

“Yup, she uh— just won’t stop calling me.” You breathily laughed, stupidly covering the fact you had been the one calling her nonstop.

His careful eyes surveyed you, immediately grabbing something was amiss. “Hungover?”

Lord knew you weren’t going to bring up last night if he didn’t. You’d rather let it die in the past. “I was this morning, but I’m alright now.” You offered a kind, but forced smile. “You okay?” You returned, gazing up at him.

With the baggy top you’d hurriedly put on this morning, Megumi could see past the collar, eyes catching the familiar black bra. You were so rushed this morning, you didn’t have time to change it. His heart squeezed painfully, hand twitching as it recalled the feeling of the fabric. The same hand that fucked his dick until he came thinking of you once he was alone. Fuck, he was pathetic. “I’m fine.” He gritted. Even through the drunk haze of the prior night, that memory of you below him was as clear as day in his mind.

“You’ve got baseball this afternoon, right? Do you want to come over afterwards?” You asked.

“I can, why?” So you could show him more of your gorgeous body?

“Just to hangout, n’ chat.” You added, as casually as possible. Technically you weren’t lying.

“I’ll come.” He assured. His hands lifted to touch you, but Megumi decided better, shoving it back into his pocket. “Will I see you at practice?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled.

You’d watched Megumi play baseball since he was young, having been one of his biggest supporters (besides Gojo, of course) since you two became friends. You’d love to watch him play, sitting on a nearby bench with a book to read or your computer to finish an assignment.

Megumi had never admitted it out loud, but before each swing of his bat, he’d gaze out into the empty audience chairs to catch a glimpse of you. You were always there, always looking at him.

It never failed to make his heart swell, even after the two of you began dating, seeing you sit there just for him was the kind of loyalty that made Megumi obsessed with you.

Today, though, it seemed Megumi had more on his mind than he usually did. It was so obvious in the way he played. He was distracted.

On the walk back to your dorm, you could tell he was clearly unimpressed by himself.

Once inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to freshen up.

Reflecting from your mirror like a ghost haunting you, hung your cleanly washed thong. Now dry and ready to be worn. Maybe, just maybe, finally ready to be seen. The old habit still clawed you, just in case, you thought, just in case something happens.

You slipped out of the bathroom, a sudden nervousness taking you. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked, finding a seat next to Megumi on your bed.

His furrowed expression disappeared the moment he heard your tone and his eyes lifted to you expectantly. You inhaled.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You stated, voice wavering despite your desire to sound sure.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a virgin.” You finally uttered.

“Oh, okay.” You could hear in his voice, the slightest hint of bewilderment. Mostly at the suddenness.

“I’ve never had a dick in me, okay? So I’m nervous.” You let the words out like Megumi had you tied up, forcing a confession out of you. A tight pause filled the air as you let the weight of your secret fill the room.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I’ve had sex, either.” Megumi’s narrow eyes squinted at his furrowed brow. His cheeks tinted pink, clearly out of his comfort zone to admit this.

“You haven’t?” You felt free of an imaginary weight that lifted from your chest.

“Yes? You’ve been my only girlfriend, I assumed you would’ve just guessed.”

“So nothing? No hookups or anything?”

“Not my thing.”

Your chest bubbled with a freeing excitement. You’d have to thank Nobara later and let her know she’s the goddess of advice. “Thank God, I was so worried.” You exhaled.

“Worried?” His hand came to grasp your arm. Had he seriously done something to make you worry?

“When you left last night, I thought I did something wrong or—”

Fuck. Of course. “No, you didn’t.” He squeezed your arm. He was just an idiot, a drunk, horny idiot. “It was the alcohol, I didn’t think it was a good idea. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.” His eyes avoided you, cheeks growing darker.

Was he embarrassed? You kissed his jaw, eagerly planting a peck free of doubt.

The kiss seemed to break him from his mumbling as he adjusted your aim, pulling your chin up and kissing your lips. He kissed you again, and you could feel it in his affection too, an excitement to explore you, be the first to learn your body.

To reach his lips better, you moved to straddle Megumi, planting yourself on his lap and letting yourself be enveloped by his affection.

He pulled you down with him as his back fell into the mattress and as you rocked on his lap, you felt the line of his dick through his pants.

Then reality hit you. You two were going to do it. You sat up, blinking at the boy beneath you.

“…Hey.” You peeped, a stupid joking tone wrapping your words.

“Hey.” Megumi replied, his own words threaded with dull awkwardness.

“Do you.. come here often?” You continued, hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, amused. “I do.”

“Same.” You nodded slowly. Another flustered moment of silence passed over you.

Megumi’s mind seemed clouded and unbothered by the pause, eyes becoming focused on your shirt. You could guess what he was thinking about.

“I’m wearing it again.” You muttered. His eyes flickered to you, holding an intense gaze you’d only seen him have in serious situations of concentration. “Do you want to see?”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

You offered your shirt to him, prompting him to be the one to take it off you. His thick hands took the fabric, slowly pulling it up and over your head. His eyes caught on the black set again. Now, his gaze weakened, still tense but clouded by a soft desire.

Finally letting in to what he really wanted to do to you the previous night, Megumi sat up, cradling your abdomen to keep you stilled on top of him as he pressed a kiss to the skin that spilled out of your bra. He lightly sucked, no doubt hoping to leave a red mark.

“Megumi.” You softly murmured. The sound pricked his ears like a melody. He continued, more driven kissing and sucking up until he reached your collar bone and cheek.

Face just below your own, Megumi gazed up at you with his usually bored eyes, but currently they were anything but, holding a softness for you that could only be explained away by love. Riddle in the blue of his irises held the deep specks of lust. You wanted more, wanted to see his eyes flutter from pleasure.

Megumi’s thoughts similarly danced along the same trail as your own but despite his somewhat tame expression they were nasty compared to your own. Mostly, they lingered south. His fingers hooked the sides of your pants.

“I want to see the bottom pair.” He murmured, fierce eyes pinning you to his command.

“O-Okay.” You shyly huffed, moving back so Megumi could undress you with more ease. His eyes lingered on your own as he slid off your bottoms, like a boy closing his eyes as he opened his birthday gift so he could be more surprised by the reveal of it fully unwrapped in front of him. As much as you wanted to shy from his gaze, you couldn’t.

Finally your pants were off, tossed off the bed with your shirt. You watched his gaze flicker to your thong, and you shivered at the exposure. He leaned in, hands resting on your knees in an attempt to let you know he wanted them open, you didn’t comply, far too embarrassed. “Pretty.” He muttered. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

One of his hands snaked down your thigh, coming to grasp the gemstone hanging from the front strap. He twisted it between his thumb and index finger, and you badly wished it he’d play with your clit like that.

Then, his hand dragged over the lace fabric, so dangerously close to your bundle of nerves that your legs creaked opened on pure instinct. Megumi huffed at your bodies desire to be touched, taking the moment of weakness to slip himself between your legs.

Lower now, his fingers dared to slide over your clit. You gasped and his hand stunted.

“Feel okay?” He breathed, lust kissed eyes glowering at you. Don’t make him stop, not yet. Not when he was finally able to feel you.

“Feels good.” You murmured. Megumi’s jaw slacked and he panted a suppressed grunt at your pathetic words. Almost immediately he continued the motion, familiarising himself with what spots of your cunt would made you hiccup and your tummy twitch. “M-Megumi.” You whined with no real purpose behind your plea.

Hot, it was becoming too hot. He left your pussy for a second, pulling off his shirt and tossing it like he had your pants. Your cheeks blazed at his thin but muscled body. You’d only ever caught sight of his abs on a windy day, never had you seen his bare chest before. His skin was so smooth and light, your fingers begged to memories each curve and bump.

He closed the space between you, coming to press messy pecks on your lips whilst his hand returned to your cunt. Your hands rested against his thudding chest, letting yourself fall into the bedding.

“I can feel your heart beat.” You huffed, somewhat excited by the rapid pace. “Nervous?” You asked, a teasing prod.

“Eager.” He corrected, collecting your lips in another kiss.

His ring and index calmly slid up and down, the tips of his fingers daring over the patch of wet forming around your sex. You wanted to do the same, wanted so desperately to feel more of his body, but your nails stilled, dug into his chest waiting for some kind of permission you couldn’t even ask for.

And Megumi, the utter mind reader, took your wrist with his free hand and led you on a trail down his abdomen. He must’ve felt your hesitancy and made the move for you, that, or he was desperate to feel your hands wander over his body.

And your featherlight fingers curved over the dips of his abs. In reaction to your sweet touch, you felt his rubbing become messy and he pressed hard against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping against his tight stomach and his jaw clenched tight, swallowing a grunt.

“More, Megs, please.” You blurted, hole dripping and utterly prepped for whatever Megumi wanted to stuff inside you.

He remained somewhat levelheaded, thinking that if he fucked you now, he’d cum too quick and this would be all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied. So despite his aching cock, his fingers dipped under your thong and circled your weeping cunt. He was going to savour every single second.

Slowly, he pushed past the rings of your wet chasm. And fuck. His fingers and dick must’ve been connected, because he could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of your inside around him just like they were around his fingers.

His cock twitched, leaking a fat blob of precum. “Shit.” The way your pussy jumped at his curse didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh God— Megumi, hng.” Your legs weakened, turning to jelly at the feeling of his warm fingers pressing against your tight, sensitive walls. Megumi’s two digits were thicker and rugged from gripping a bat all his life, the perfect size and texture against your trembling insides and otherworldly compared to your own.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yea— mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut, hands hesitating over Megumi’s torso until they gripped his tensed arms.

His mouth hung open, too distracted by massaging your insides to dedicate his lips to you. Hot pants filled your mouth as you desperately kissed him, each breath of his slowly filling with grunts to the symphony of your whines. Each moan from you battered his dick, making it pulse painfully for you.

His fingers chased your twitching hips, pushing in deeper each time you squirmed from the sensation. Until the tips of his fingers slid against the spongey sweet spot inside of you that was hidden in the curve of your chasm.

“Right there!” You squealed, the hight of your voice surprising both of you. “Curl your fingers— Mh! just like that.”

He did so, pushing his digits against the sweet spot, lightly pressing and smoothing over the area. You trembled beneath him, clinging to his body like he was your life support.

Megumi loved every second of it, watching your body contort from just his fingers. He just wanted to watch you like this, utterly drunk on pleasure, for forever.

He wanted to make cum so badly it was driving him mad.

“Ohh, please don’t stop.” How could he? Your pussy had just begun clenching around him so gorgeously, tightening like the building orgasm inside you.

Megumi had only realised you’d cum after you yelped his name and your walls sucked on his fingers, trying to milk them of cum. He wanted so badly to feel the sensation around his cock.

“Hng— thank you, thank you.” You babbled embarrassingly, kissing along Megumi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the lack of you around his dick, uncomfortably he palmed his boxers, trying to adjusted his blood filled cock.

The trance of afterglow seemed to subside as you gazed over Megumi’s frustration. Although you were undone, you still craved more of him inside your fuzzy chasm. “More?” You asked, an invitation.

Megumi nodded, thanking the heavens you weren’t done with him. His hand dug into the wallet in his pant pocket, digging out a condom. He pulled it out, half pruned fingers covered in your slick attempting to tear it open.

It was like you’d been slapped in the face with the curt realisation that he had prepared for this. Just as you went to buy lingerie, Megumi had gone and bought condoms. He must’ve thought it could’ve happened at any moment to keep one in his wallet.

He brought the wrapper to his teeth, being frustrated with his inability to open it and tore it open with his clenched teeth. You sucked in a breath at his flimsy eagerness.

The bashfulness that came with revealing himself seemed to skip Megumi’s mind, as he pulled down his baggy pants to let his leaking cock free of the fabric.

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling, needing to look elsewhere as you heard him slide on the plastic birth control. From the glimpse you did catch you could tell he was thin and long. Your attention dived back down once you left a gentle hand rest on your hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone.

His eyes, once you met them, held a simple question; are you ready?

You nodded, closing your eyelids and bracing for his length. However the feeling never came, only his lips as they trailed from your tummy, over your bra and up to your lips.

Your hands cradled his head, nails dragging across his scalp and he grunted. This felt familiar, the feeling of his body softening against yours as you pressed simple kisses onto one another’s lips. Through the intimacy, you felt Megumi readjust, pulling your underwear to the side and lining his tip against your sopping sex.

Closer now, you hugged him through the stress. He slowly sunk into you, the plastic of the condom feeling cool against your hot insides. “Fuck.” He hissed, nipping at your bottom lip.

You sobbed, letting the sensation of being filled by your boyfriend feed your mouth with curses.

He entered slowly, just as much for you as it was for him. His face, flushed red and eyes fluttering in pleasure. You not far from the same, mouth agape with lewd noises spewing out.

He bottomed out when your hips met, taking a brief minute to calm your collective gasps. You gazed down, drowsily taking in the enrapturing sight of you two being connected. Megumi moaned weakly at your smitten stare, feeling himself fall apart from inside you.

“S’okay?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, you can move.” You permitted desperately.

He drawled his hips out carefully, rolling inwards again. Your insides still buzzed from his fingers, raw and sensitive to his filling cock. He could feel you spasm around him, forcing friction when he desperately needed you to be still so he didn’t cum prematurely.

Another breathless curse left him as his length dived back into you. “Oh fuck— I love you.” You gaped at the words, wondering suddenly was that the first time he’s ever said that?

He rolled his hips again, breaking up your quick declaration. “Love— mh— you.”

He cradled you, pulling your body in with his unlikely strength as he fucked you gently. You’d never felt so close to another person before, having him so deep within you, filling your body with pleasure.

Megumi had lost most of his composure, becoming a vocal mess as he humped into your heavenly insides.

“So tight.” He uttered into your skin. “S’perfect.” He kissed your skin, sucking hard hickies into your chest and neck.

“Mnh— love you, hng.” You repeated, too cock drunk to babble anything else.

Messier now, his hip rolls became somewhat frantic, chasing the building mountain of his orgasm. “S-Shit— I’m gonna cum.” The statement rolled off his tongue in a pathetic whine, another crack from his usual composure.

“Don’t s-stop! Please, Gumi ahh.” You were already being worked to your second orgasm, you couldn’t bare to be emptied of him before you reached your high. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping Megumi in.

“Ngh— fffuck.” He plowed harder now, his cock tip perfectly fucking against your sweet spot. Suddenly his tame thrusts became a stuttering mess as he muffled your name into your shoulder.

You could feel him orgasm, feel his cock jerk, feel his cum bloat the tip of the condom inside you.

Noticing him slow, you rolled your hips, desperately fucking yourself onto his mid-orgasm dick.

His hands smack at your sides, attempting you to pull you off his overstimulated dick.

“Almost almost almost—” You pleaded.

With what he had left in him, Megumi took your hips and helped you grind yourself on his cock. He bit your shoulder, muffling the pained moans leaving him.

“Fuck!” You squeaked, his dick slid over your g-spot again, finally bringing you to your spine tingling orgasm. Your insides spasmed around Megumi’s dick, and he whined at the feeling, growing painfully hard again.

Your body went limp, as did the tight hold you had on Megumi. Both your bodies sat panting, utterly fucked out and glistening with sweat.

Raising from you, Megumi looked over your flushed, messy state, his cock still warm fitted inside you. He savoured the sight, thinking that if he could take a photo of this, he’d keep it in his wallet.

“We should shower.” He murmured, painting kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded.

Fuzzy insides retracting as Megumi slipped from you, you sighed longingly, whilst he grunted, disappointed he couldn’t live inside you.

You groggily sat up, kissing him before attempting to move off the bed but Megumi kept you back, hooking a finger around the strap of your bra.

“How much was the set?” He asked.

“Uhm, not much, Nobara helped me pay for it so—”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The heat that had just left your cheeks suddenly returned.

[kenyummy]

✰ 06. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 06. take a bite.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: hi lovelies!!! unmmmmm its been a very hot minute. sorry!!!! my job and uni prep have taken me hostage not to mention math exams woooowweee. im gonna try and be more active now and post a bit more, so hopefully look forward to that!!! also ill answer any asks asap 💞💞 ily all ok muah

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You think you mayyy have gotten ahead of yourself. A very slim maybe.

Sure, all these things probably needed to be said at some point, but jeez, you'd never met the guy before. You could've given it at least a day or two. Now, you're stuck in this situation. Cringing at yourself in the mirror, holding back from slamming your head against the mirror to rid yourself of these crippling memories.

Your eyebags—they speak for themselves—and your expression is anything but pleasant.

Last night was awkward. Awkward can't even begin to describe it, actually. It was excruciatingly awful, looking back on it. You have no idea what he is or was thinking, ir even how he acted outside of those diary entries. Maybe these assumptions were wrong. Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew.

(But it was hard to think this way when his expression; his words, they seemed to resonate with it so deeply).

Regardless, you can't dwell on this forever. You have a mission to do. Mission being; not failing school and incurring the wrath of your father. And getting back home. But that was a given.

You barely feel like yourself. You don't even look like you. This house isn't yours, nor are these clothes. The scent you spray onto your body isn't familiar, and even the shampoo on your nightstand is tacky and strange feeling.

All this time, you had never felt this lost. You may not be alone, but in this giant mansion, away from all your friends—you may as well be.

Your siblings were strange and unlikeable to you. You had barely even seen your father since you'd gotten here. Alfred was the only person you seemed to be able to even have a semblance of a normal conversation with. The knowledge is daunting, but not painful. You don't care.

It's all temporary, anyway.

... You hope. But knowing Reed, you'll be back before you can say, Hello, New York.

In a math class you've already done a year ago, you find yourself beginning to doze off with these thoughts plaguing the forefront of your mind. Cheek squished upwards in your hands, you aren't worried.

Your spidey sense is really handy; your head will tingle with that familiar static when the teacher's suspicions grow to large and you've already done your work, anyway.

But Harry doesn't seem to be doing so hot, you note when your eyes snap open and your pen finds a home in the dips of your fingers. As the teacher walks past your seat, you glance back at Harry's spot. Away from you, and on purpose, for sure. (At least, knowing you and your Harry—the amount of mischief whispered behind your hands was impalpable and certainly not appreciated by your teacher.)

He looks distressed by the worksheet in front of him, and small bits of laughter rumble from your chest. You feel gleeful, the best you'd felt from this crummy morning.

Those blue eyes meet yours and are practically screaming for help, to which you have to hide your smile behind a hand. The girl beside you shoots you a confused look, but nevertheless focuses on the math in front of her.

He mouths, Help me. It's a bit difficult the sound the rest out, but you think it's a mix of, This is impossible and I can't do this anymore.

Without much else of a clue on what you could possibly do to help him with that dictator of a math teacher around, you shrug your shoulders.

I'll help you out at lunch, you wordlessly mouth to him back, making a small heart with your index finger and thumb to go along with a sly wink. A teasing gesture, something you'd find yourself doing with your own best friend back home. Nothing more, nothing less.

His cheeks flush with a bright red before he chuckles to himself, lowering his head as if you couldn't still see that he was grinning stupidly to himself. Hand resting at the back of his slim neck and pen limp in his hand, not even pretending like he was actually doing something.

The reality dawns on you again and you turn away.

Once again, your stomach sinks. Not at him. Not at the prospect he thought you were flirting. Just at how, even for a second, you were unable to forget that this was not your home.

Once again, you feel lost in your own skin and nothing about you seems to sit just right.

... Even through your years of crime fighting, even through the hate and backlash from the public, even when a Skrull had stolen your face and you had looked yourself dead in the eye—not once have you felt as estranged as you have now.

"I hate teen drama." MJ moans dramatically, draping her arms on your shoulders and slumping, putting all her body weight onto you and you find yourself having to cling to her shoulders to keep her upright. If you didn't have that enhanced strength, you think you'd fall right down with her.

Harry slams his locker door shut and shoots her an amused look, "What happened now? That guy you were talking to ended up having a girlfriend after all?"

"Even worse." She tilts her head up to look at him from where it still lay against your shoulder, cheek smushing against the fabric of your shirt, "His ex is cuckoo. Like seriously,"

She spin her index finger around her head and then knocks against it with a closed fist. "There's something up with her. She hasn't stopped glaring at me since third period. I think she actually wants to kill me."

"That makes two of us," you speak, pushing her up so that it doesn't look like she's trying to fuse into you Steven Universe style.

She crosses her arms and frowns, red brows narrowing down at you, "I'm serious! What are you gonna do if I die? You can't take the comedic relief out of an already-established trio."

"You think you're the comedic relief?" Harry asks, genuinely surprised. MJ doesn't seem to take this too kindly—understandably.

You'd say you're pretty funny. Or your version of yourself, that is... this you. You aren't sure about the other you. Seemed pretty glum, but you digress. You'd be mad at the world if you were born here too, as harsh as that sounds.

Students pour out around you and you hear the bell chime around you. The day is over, as fast as it began. Too bad. You almost found yourself enjoying school.

Because at least that meant you didn't have to go back home, a place where you felt the least like yourself than anywhere.

"[name]?"

A hand waving itself in front of your face makes you blink back to reality, staring up at its owner. Harry looks concerned, an expression you think you've been seeing a lot of on his face and it's ridiculously defined cheekbones lately. "Are you okay? You spaced out again."

Again? Has this been happening lately? You hadn't even realised. Even your base instincts, your enhanced senses, hadn't even snapped you out of it.

"I'm okay. Sorry. Just uh..." You press your lips tightly together, gaze lowering. "Having some trouble at home."

You say, and you really don't want to elaborate.

"Is it with your brothers again?" MJ speaks softly, quietly, even though there's barely anybody left in the hallways after school hours. Your eyes widen a tad. You're sure you'd never told them anything, and you guessed this original you wasn't too keen on sharing their personal life either, so...

"How...?"

"They're not exactly subtle in sending you to the poor school then never bothering to pick you up in one of their fancy cars." MJ rolls her eyes. "You literally take the public bus home. Bruce Wayne's kid. It doesn't really take a genius to figure it out."

You chew down on your lip. They're right. It's not as subtle as you thought. A strong pair of arms wrap around you and your face heats up when your chin digs into Harry's woollen sweater.

"[name], we don't care. Their loss. You don't need them, you have us. Always, no matter what."

... Does he think you're upset about this? Embarrassed? Really, you aren't. But the gesture is sweet and you really do love your friends, so you don't hesitate to hug him right back.

"Thanks," you murmur, eyes not meeting his as MJ places a soft hand on your shoulder. Maybe you should be sad? It's a bit unnatural to appear so stoic when you talk about something like this, no? "But it's fine. It doesn't bother me anymore. You're right. I have you guys, and you two are more than enough."

"Since when did you get so good with words?" MJ slyly eyes you up and down, thoroughly amused. "You know, the old you would've just told us it's nothing and everything's okay. What happened?"

A smile forms across your lips. This time—a real one. "I guess I just had an epiphany. Not even my ego's more important to me than you guys."

My family.

You walk out through the gates laughing. A few other students still surround the building and even fewer walk out behind you and your friends—probably those bothered enough to take up after school tutoring programs and clubs and anything of the sort.

The ones that linger at the gate are frantically texting on their phones—probably spamming their parents to hurry and pick them up, because it was starting to get cold again. The clouds fog up the clear sky and blocks the sunlight from hitting the ground, so the world around you is dim as well. Not a good look for Gotham.

"We're so gonna get jumped." MJ blurts out, gripping the straps of her bag tightly. "Me and [name], I mean. You're totally safe, Harry. You and that driver of yours. Tell him I said hi, by the way."

"You're throwing shade now? I told you both you're welcome to drive with us if you want to."

You shake your head, no matter how much MJ's eyes brighten. "You live all the way on the other side of Gotham. We don't want to bother you. We all know how your dad gets when you slack on your homework."

Harry hums, "Yeah, but he likes you both, so it cancels out."

"Norman likes me?" MJ looks positively flabbergasted at this news, as if she hadn't even considered it before. "He always gives me the strangest smiles. I thought he secretly wanted me out of your life."

"Trust me, if he wanted you out, he wouldn't keep it a secret." Harry sighs, exasperated. "Actually, he respects you a bunch. He's seen you on TV a few times with your reporting work experience. Dad thinks you're the kind of reporter this city actually needs."

MJ places a hand over her heart, as if it were suddenly warmed by this strange act of kindness showed by The Normal Osborn.

A loud rev grabs all of your attention before you can even think of what to ask next. Whether Norman liked you, or even superheroes in general. Whether the Green Goblin was even a thing. So many questions, and such little time.

You turn to where the obnoxious bike noise came from, and your blood runs cold. All warning signals in your head go off and you can't help but instinctively ball up your fists.

Your (?) brother. Jason. He sits atop a stationary motorcycle, a strange smile atop his lips and a black helmet snug under his bicep. He's wearing a black biker outfit you'd never once ever imagine would exist in real life and MJ is literally gawking.

His eyes seem to have caught yours before you'd even noticed he were there. Now, when you're staring at him in such dumb looking shock—he gestures toward you, "C'mon. I'm takin' you home today."

"Wh... what...?" You splutter, fingers digging into the toughness of your palm. "Why? Nobody said anything about..."

Jason swings his leg over the seat of the motorcycle and adjusts his rear view mirror absent-mindedly, "Spur of the moment. I wanted to spend more time with you."

Harry and MJ, from beside you, coo quietly at you, teasingly. Despite your love for your friends, you really wished they could see the dread slowly seeping into your skin.

You feel like you're on your last leg when you conjure up the lamest excuse you could possibly come up with. "... I don't have a helmet. It's not safe."

"You're with me. You think I'll let anything happen while I'm here?" His words are sweet, like those of a regular elder brother. Normal sounding, to your friends who give you a small nudge to your side.

But you know better. You've seen him covered in sticky crimson blood and you've seen the shiny metal of the mask that covers his face.

You know that his words aren't as sweet as they are a promise. A promise you're entirely sure he is willing to uphold and keep at any means.

... But what can you say? Nothing that won't give away his identity, or even your entire family's. You're left in a corner, with nowhere to go but forward. Right into the lion's den.

Taking his hand feels more like a sort of demonic deal with the devil than it probably should've. Still, his gloved fingers wrap around your own, carefully and practised, with all the warmth of a human and all the delicacy of an older brother.

He slips his helmet on as you settle behind him on the seat, tentatively holding him so you don't go flying back. "Hold on tight. You're not gonna fall, trust me."

You know you won't, and even if you do, you'll be fine. Still, when he revvs up the engine and drives off into the cool Gotham air, you feel a strange hardness of your limbs start to build.

The wind bites at your cheeks as he revvs his bike up. Your arms are wrapped snugly around his waist, leather feeling rough under your fingertips. Despite the physical need to hang onto him so you don't go tumbling off the seat, you find yourself wanting to put as much physical distance between you and Jason as possible.

Your head is awkwardly bent back so it isn't squished against his back, and you have a feeling he's a bit miffed about this fact. That you're still so unwilling to be beside him. But that's just your guess. You'll never know what he's thinking with that helmet blocking out each expression and his head facing straight to the road.

Even with this concentration, he still decides to speak. "Didn't know you were still friends with that guy. Harvey?"

"Harry," you correct him, though you aren't sure why.

"Yeah. Harry. That rich kid who gave up the exhilarating life of Gotham Prep to go to school with you." Jason's tone is light, and he doesn't seem to be too serious with his words. He's trying to make conversation, and it's strange, because you can tell he isn't really sure on how to do it. "I always thought he was good for you. He hasn't got a stick up his ass like the rest of those snobs at Bruce's galas."

"At least you approve of him," you say quietly. Barely even hearing yourself over the sound of the wind hitting your ears.

"That's more than you can say for a lot of those other brats you used to hang out with, you know." He almost sounds amused, despite how dead your tone was. "Hated all of them. These two ain't bad."

You wonder what those so-called brats were like. Other rich children all couped up together for the sole fact they're all born from wealth? Jason not liking them didn't really discern much about them to you, because you got the impression Jason didn't like many people.

You had the impression Jason didn't like you. But looking at your situation now, you couldn't be furthur from the truth, it seemed.

Silence fills the space between you both for a bit. Driving down the busy highways into darkening skies, as the clouds start to grey and the sun waves its last goodbye. When there no longer lay any witness but the moon itself, watching over the crime-riddled streets of Gotham, where you, somehow, were taken away from without a second thought.

Red fills the sky. Red, like Jason's helmet—not currently being worn, but an image you could never really remove from your head when you'd look at him.

Red, like your suit. Red, like the blood flowing through your veins. It colours the ground above you and will eventually turn into an array of violet hues. That's how it all concludes, in the end.

Jason takes a turn off the busy street and it goes quiet. He slows down a bit to match the speed limit—which feels strangely out of character for him, but you digress. He takes this opportunity to finally have his voice be heard above the onomatopoeia of cars and angry honks of the drivers within them.

"... This is nice. Never picked you up from school like this, huh?" Despite not being able to see him from where you sit behind his back—you can practically feel his smile. "We should do this more. How do you even get home usually, anyway? Alfred never goes around these parts."

... You debate on telling him or not, but assume it doesn't matter whether you do or not in the end. If he wants he know, he'll just find out. No use in delaying the inevitable. "I take the public bus."

If he could stop in the middle of driving, he would. Even if he was driving, without a car behind him, you're sure he'd brake abruptly and send you flying off the bike. His hand twitches around the handle and panic is sent flaring through your nerves like electricity. "What? You actually go on that shit?"

You know he probably didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, but you're annoyed nonetheless. "Well, not like I had much of a choice. Would you rather me walk the way?"

His lack of a response tells you all you need to know. You aren't keen on continuing this conversation, so for now, it's just silence.

Slipping off the motorcycle, you shake the wind out of your hair and brush down your clothes. Jason barely even looks at you as he places his helmet on the table beside the front door and slips the keys into his jacket pocket.

"Thanks for driving me." Despite your... complicated feelings towards him and the rest of your family, you are a polite person. Your aunt had always raised you right like this. "But you don't have to worry about doing something like this again... I'm fine taking the bus."

You say, with all the subtlety of a man dying of thirst. Practically yelling for him to just leave you the fuck alone. At least putting it in a mildly kind way.

He hums, expression unreadable to you. Then, he smiles. A stark change in his features from when you'd first gotten a glimpse of that contempt face. When you'd first saw him. "Don't be so humble, okay? I'll take you home every day from now on. Even if there's crime, I'll finish it up quick and we can ride home together. Just you, and me. With your big brother. That's fine, right?"

... You didn't realise when he had started moving closer to you while speaking, but now he was standing right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder and a dangerous glint in his eye (that, yoy aren't sure even registers to him at all).

Your brain buzzes with static sirens. Warning. Yelling for you to run away, move, fight him, do anything except stand there frozen like a deer in headlights. Fingers twitching with the urge to punch, claw get away—but you don't.

You grip the sides of your shirt, knuckles feeling weak under the pressure. No longer can you force the words you want to say out of your mouth. "... You don't have to bother. I'm serious."

He smiles. "Alright. I have some errands to run. Wasn't supposed to be here today, anyway." Changing his biker helm out for his signature red one, he pats your shoulder a few times before walking past you. "Goodnight, [name]. Don't stay up too late, yeah? Study for that test you got."

You can't even begin to question how he knows you have a test coming up when you're sure you'd never told him, when the thought pops up in your head that no, he absolutely did not listen to you. And yes, he absolutely will continue to keep waiting outside your school for you to drive you home with uncomfortable conversation.

You almost fall over in the hall's entrance when Jason shuts the front door behind him. You shove your face into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and willing the memories of that drive into the back of your mind, where you wouldn't have to think about it.

But... he is right. You do have that test, and that simple fact is the reason why you pick yourself up, just as Spidey does, and decide to go to your room. Down the first living room, into the kitchen and dining room, and past—

"W—whoa!"

You're going to cry. You genuinely might start bawling. After that godawful moment, you've now crashed straight into a fucking brick wall. A moving one, at that. ... But it can't be just brick, because you think your nose is starting to bleed from the impact (if the warmth dripping down your chin is anything to go by), and you've slammed head first into concrete before with no reaction.

Just what the hell is—

"Shit!" A guy's voice curses. Unfamiliar, different from anything you'd heard here in this house before. When you crack open your eyelids, you see... Shaggy black hair, a very strange style of clothes, and the brightest blue of eyes you'd ever seen. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I should've looked where I was going—"

"Kon? What—"

Tim's face pops up from behind him just as you stand up on your own two feet, and the look on his face is something you can't even begin to describe. As soon as he gets an eyeful of you, and sees the trail of red seeping slowly from your nose down to your chin—where it drops down to the floorboards below—his entire demeanour shifts.

Subtly, but not subtle enough. At least, not to you. You don't think this Kon notices it.

"What happened here? What did you do to my sibling?"

Kon raises his hands in defence, eyes widening, "I'm so sorry, I didn't look where I was going, and—"

"Are you serious?!" Tim's brows furrow deeply and he almost growls like a damn dog as he sneers, "You hurt my sister, and all you can say is that you didn't look where you were going? Don't be stupid, Kon!"

"Look, I'm really sorry—it was an accident. Why are you getting so worked up—"

"You made her nose fucking bleed, dumbass! You know she's not like the rest of us! I told you to be careful around her, and look what you've done!"

Before Tim can tweak out even worse, you speak up, in the most monotone voice you can manage. "I'm okay. Don't worry. I'll just go clean it up."

The two boys look to you in shock, seeing a tissue already shoved up your nose and your face clean of any bloodstains. Void of anything except the drip of red on your shirt.

"But... But—" Tim's tone wavers a little as he steps closer, "What if it's broken? I'll help you—"

You hold your hand out, stopping him in his tracks as it collides with his chest. Shaking your head, you clench your jaw to try and alleviate the throbbing pain. "It's not broken. It's just injured. I'm okay."

The boy with piercings—Kon—he presses his fingers into his palm from his face behind Tim, looking rather guilty. "Sorry, um... Kon. I didn't look where I was going, either. That's my bad."

That name sounds strange to say in your mouth, and Kon himself seems surprised to hear you say it. "No, no, it was my bad. I'm so sorry, [name]."

His expression and words were genuine, enough so that your head starts to clear from its panic and you feel a sense of calmness finally wash over you.

But, your fingers still twitch when Tim gives you a forlorn look of almost longing.

You don't say another word, rushing past them snd going to your room—where you could bury your face into your pillow and pretend like none of this existed. Where you could climb out the window, suit clinging to your frame, and become the you that you'd always loved most.

The one who was free, swinging through the skies and cutting the wind like it meant nothing to you. The you that only ever felt like the real one.

And even if just for a moment, you could believe that this was your only you.

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taglist is open!

[evanhereonearth]

Solas, outnumbered seven to one, overpowered by a lot more than that, betrayed by his best friend Mythal who bound him to her service and coerced him into leaving the Fade and coerced him into making a weapon that would make an entire people tranquil to stop the war she started AND ignored him when he said it would create *checks notes* a blight and made him do it anyway. Solas, facing seven blighted wannabe gods who turned on his best abusive friend Mythal when she finally stood up to them after CENTURIES of him begging her to do just that and starting a rebellion to free all their multitudes of slaves: *creates the veil, imprisons the blight and the Evanuris, and preserves all life in Thedas* World: FUCK THE DREAD WOLF, GOD OF TREACHERY AND LIES *worships the Evanuris and their dragon thralls*

Solas: zzzzzzzzzz (knocked out cold from saving the world for LITERALLY SEVERAL MILLENNIA MORE)

Tevinter: *razes what's left of Elvhenan, steals all their magic, enslaves the elven people for entire length of Solas's world-saving-induced coma*

Also Tevinter: *breaks into the fucking black city and brings out the blight*

Also also Tevinter: *uses so much blood magic that the veil ends up in tatters*

The Blight: >:)

World: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck *throws everything they can at the blight, including--*checks notes again*--the blight

Orlais: you know what sucks? elves. let's kill them all

Ferelden: good shout, mes amis

Orlais: you know what also sucks? mages. put them in prisons.

Ferelden: you're full of good ideas when you're not invading us

Free Marches: MAGE PRISON, YOU SAY?

Orlais: add templars who can decide to murder them or make them tranquil on a whim at any moment

Ferelden and Free Marches: *frantically taking notes*

Rivain and Nevarra: we're just going to be...over here...

Blights 1-5: i've got a great idea i've got a great idea

Blights 1-5 after a while: my great idea didn't work :(

Archdemons 1-5: ....... :(

Evanuris 1-5: ......... :(

Solas, waking up in 9:40ish Dragon: what the...WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCKING FUCK. they can just KILL MAGE CHILDREN? AND PURGE ALIENAGES? AND ALMOST EVERY ELF IN TEVINTER IS A SLAVE? *absolutely rabid, seeks out the Dalish, as remnants of his people*

The Dalish, at Solas: *ARROWS*

Solas: ......fuck this shit, fuck all of this shit, fuck these tyrants in particular, fuck this fucking...UGH

The veil, after all this: (o.O:0oO.)

The remaining blighted Evanuris and the 99% of blight that did not escape: :)

Solas: well, that is a problem, going to need to address that ASAP, but turns out millennia of coma doesn't leave a spirit spry

Corypheus, busting out of warden jail: I AM FREE

Solas: hm, could kill that guy letting him unlock my orb, since he broke into my blight prison in the first place and defo deserves dying

Corypheus: veil needs a certain je ne sais quoi, a...bigger hole. i will make one.

Wardens: yes, good plan, blighted magister man. we are in control of the blight inside us and also heroes *in death, sacrifice = divine justinia's ritual sacrifice under thrall*

The veil:

O

Corypheus: >:( but like...not dead

Solas: well, i did not see that coming

Lavellan: *in chains, threatened with execution*

humans: KNIFE EAR >:(

Lavellan: *hole in the sky, hole in her memories, hole in her fucking hand* fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, wait, this hole in my hand helps close holes in the SKY

Solas: *.* It seems you hold the key to our salvation

Lavellan: i'm sorry what

humans: HERALD OF ANDRASTE!!!!!!!! *falls to knees*

Lavellan: I'M SORRY WHAT

Chantry: *choking in the corner*

Cassandra: time for you to decide the fate of the world

Lavellan: I'M. SORRY. WHAT???????? you know what? fine. *stops alexius from blood magicking his way through redcliffe and time itself, gets punted into a hellscape of nightmares and makes it back with the help of a rebel tevinter mage* the mages i rescued from becoming probable slaves to tevinter are our allies and dorian is my new best friend for being the only reason i made it back alive and the whole world didn't die *dabs*

Cassandra: >:(

Mother Giselle: >:(

Lavellan: ffs

Corypheus: *dragon temper tantrum*

Lavellan: *somehow escapes both dragon and Corypheus, trudges through blizzard, collapses*

Mother Giselle: *.* I FEEL A SONG COMING ON

Literally everyone but Solas: *falls to their knees*

Solas: a word?

Lavellan: OH THANK HEAVENS

Solas: these people are wack and aren't going to like that Corypheus is using elven magic *cough*, they're a hairsbreadth from executing us at all moments lol, btw here's a castle, you know, for you cos i highkey see myself in you and god i'm so fucking lonely

Lavellan: me too but wait, what the fuck is happening. you know what? fuck it. solas, what if we kissed,,, in the fade

Solas: what IF we kissed,,, in the fade *fade tongue*

Solas: ...you continue to surprise me. you show a wisdom i have not seen...since my deepest journeys into the fade!

Lavellan: don't you dare walk away from me now

Solas: okay vhenan i stay

Vivienne: this is a DEMON and NOT A PET

Lavellan: *blinks* right, no, this spirit kid who is the literal only reason we escaped Haven alive is my son now. if he hadn't read roderick's mind we'd all be avalanched or blighted dragoned, so SUCK IT UP

Vivienne: >:(

Cassandra: >:(

Sera: >:(

Bull: >:(

Varric: >:(

Solas: :D

Wardens: btw we're doing blood magic and raising an army of demons. not really our fault but also not NOT our fault? idk, blight in the blood, morally grey area. get it? grey...war--never mind, we'll be at adamant xoxo

Cullen: lotsa soldiers gonna die

Lavellan: fuck, is there another choice?

Advisors: ...no

Cory's dragon: *burninating the adamant, burninating the wardens, burninating all the people and this crumbling ROCKY BRIIIIIIDGE! CRUMBLING ROCKY BRIDGEEEEE*

Lavellan, flying through the air hundreds of feet towards the ground: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck *opens a rift into the fade*

Everyone but Solas: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WE'RE IN THE FADE

Solas: we're in the FADE!!!!!

Lavellan, after escaping the nightmare's lair: glad half the team is pissed at me, what's next, an imperial ball? how hard can that be?

Orlesians: they invited an ELF SAVAGE >:(

Lavellan: you know what, fuck this and fuck Celene for genociding the entire Halamshiral alienage and fuck you, Gaspard, you can be Briala's little French Orlesian bulldog

Half the Inquisition: *shocked pikachu*

Morrigan: allow me to shemsplain all of elven history to everyone, including Solas, yourself, and all the ancient elves in this temple

Lavellan: you know what? okay. *rubs at Mythal's vallaslin, makes eyes real big* who is this "Mythal"

Solas: *choking in the corner*

Cassandra, muttering: i do not want to do a ritual to a false god

Morrigan: lemme have the well, lemme have it, i deserve it more than you

Lavellan: ...abso-fucking-lutely not *drinks from the well out of pure spite*

Solas: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, VHENAN

Lavellan: idk vhenan, this world sucks and i wanna make it better and i love you

Solas: ...you are everything and you inspire me, hurry, i need to tell you i'm the dread wolf but am going to break up with you and remove your slave markings instead and btw they're basically a drawing of me in my true form and honestly, this whole thing is real fucked up and you're the only real person in my entire life who sees me

Lavellan: wait what

Solas: i'm bad and don't deserve you and had to harden my heart to save the world before and everyone hated me for it so i'm projecting when i say you must harden your heart to a cutting edge to kill Corypheus, I'll explain after we kill him

Lavellan: ...oh yeah guess we should do that but I gotta go meet Mythal first

Solas: wait what

Mythal: *is Morrigan's mum, is only mostly dead, also 100% cool with overriding her servants' will entirely for shits and giggles, 0/10 do not trust* i'll help you if you fight this dragon lol

Morrigan: *choking in the corner*

Corypheus: *has a mahoosive temper tantrum when Mythal's pet dragon kills his pet dragon, dies*

Solas: ;-; ilu, inky, what we had was real but i'm afraid to do to you what Mythal did to me. I MUST AWAY

Lavellan: ....

World: HERALD OF ANDRASTE!!!!!!!!!!!!*

*some restrictions may apply, like in a couple years we're going to forget everything you did and be real mad at you

Solas, somewhere: been there, vhenan

World, two years later: :D we're here to hate you, right on schedule

Qunari: you are in need of the gentle path. therefore, we are coming to kill you all

Solas: like hell you will. but come to think of it, this is a good excuse to see vhenan again

Lavellan's arm: TIME TO DIE

Solas: defo another good excuse to see vhenan again. probs should study that arm anyway

Lavellan, after several Qunari too many: CAN ANYTHING IN THIS FUCKING WORLD STAY FIXED

Inquisition, including Divine Victoria: *shocked pikachu*

Lavellan: i'm going back through the fucking looking glass to talk to some ancient elven sentinels with Mythal's magic whisper well, they're the only fucking thing that makes sense here

Qunari: *destroying everything in sight but getting hounded by the dread wolf at every step*

Lavellan, whose arm is trying to kill her but is following Qunari through her own people's magic mirror world: ...i think i'm in love with the dread wolf

Companions: pfffffft

Cole: :D YES, YOU ARE AND HE LOVES YOU TOO

Lavellan: thank god i have you, cole, my spirit son

Solas, in a statuary garden of petrified Qunari: i suspect you have questions

Lavellan: honestly, fen'harel, not really

Solas: *shocked pikachu* well done

Lavellan: i'm real tired and you could have just trusted me back in Crestwood.

Solas: this world is broken, i must tear down the veil

Lavellan: yep, i'm one "knife ear" away from putting a knife in the next human's ear who says it tbh, i'd rather live in the fade with you and my spirit son, can i help you pls vhenan

Solas: ...no

Lavellan: wtf

Solas, internally panicking because he followed Mythal wherever she went and she dragged him to literal hell and trauma and now his one true love is offering to follow him while he probably makes things worse again: absolutely not, no, but i love you forever

Lavellan's arm: >:(

Solas: ...right, i gotta take that

Lavellan: wait what

Solas: i will never forget you *trundles through mirror with severed arm*

Lavellan: oh fuck my entire life, you know what, Ferelden and Orlais? Inquisition is no more, i'm going on sabbatical to Stone Bear Hold where at least people are not insane and Storvacker loves me, and then i'm going home to the castle vhenan gave me. don't call me. byeeee

ten years later

Varric: gonna go stop Solas, who invented the veil and is From Fade, from doing things i don't understand, wish me luck, inky

Lavellan: WAIT ONE GODDAMNED SECOND I'M COMING WITH YOU

Varric: no <3 i found a complete rando who will fuck everything up

Rook: hey, what if i drop a statue on this nuclear arsenal protecting the biggest biological weapon of mass destruction known to all of thedas? that'll help

Neve, a literal mage who should know even small rituals can blow up and kill you: probs not a good idea but Varric, a dwarf who knows nothing about magic or the veil or the Fade whatsoever says this ritual must be stopped At All Costs By Any Means Necessary so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Varric: Solas I will shoot you with Bianca

Solas: ffs stop *breaks Bianca*

Varric: can you promise me your way is better

Solas: i know way better than to make promises like that, have you seen this world???

Varric: GOTCHA, YOU LYING LIAR WHO LIES

Rook: TIIIIIIIIIIIIIMBERRRRRRR

Varric: defo going to attack the guy whose millennia of existence has been centred on this massive magical problem i do not even comprehend a little after waiting ten years to ask a single question about it when he'd already got going *tries to stab Solas*

Solas, feeling everything he's spent all of world history protecting the world from breaking out of jail: turns the dagger and stabs Varric instead

Elgar'nan: >:)

Ghilan'nain: >:)

Solas: oh for fucking FUCK'S SA--*exit, stage Fade Jail*

Blight: >:)

Rook: oops

Neve and Harding: omg this could not possibly be our fault at all, not even a little. it's Solas's fault, the lying liar who lies

Lavellan: i will not murder this stupid child, i will not murder this stupid child, i will not murder this stupid child

Morrigan: we have to help the stupid child

Lavellan: we have to help the stupid child

Morrigan and Lavellan: *look at each other*

Lavellan: when this is over, i stg--

Morrigan, who has millennia of memories of Mythal abusing Solas and decades of Flemythal abusing her: yeah no i will throw you a going away party and take care of Dorian for you and help you get your boyfriend back and no way will i fight him, this is actually ridiculous

Ferelden, Orlais, and the Free Marches, all of whom turned on Lavellan ten years ago: hELP help HELP there's BLIIIIIGHT

Lavellan to Leliana: you owe me a hundred gold

Leliana: *hands over a solid gold nug*

Ferelden: X_X

Orlais: X_X

Free Marches: X_X

Lavellan: *grits teeth* i better go meet with rook

Rook: andaran atish'an, honoured inquisitor

Lavellan: yo. sure would be nice to be meeting without our gods, you know, destroying absolutely everything i've spent a quarter of my life protecting and rebuilding after the last apocalypse but here we are i guess

Morrigan: *smirks at shade*

Northern Thedas: ROOK IS THE BEST

Southern Thedas: is rook tho

Ghilan'nain: muahahaha i have so many drago---nooo you killed my dragons and i am BLEEDING LIKE A MORTAL PIECE OF MORTAL SCUM

Elgar'nan: my dragon used to be bigger :(

Ghilan'nain: your dragon's fine

Elgar'nan: Ghilly, make it bigger again

Ghilan'nain: can't, too sad. blood. :(

Southern Thedas: *throwing nugs at blight* hELP

Lavellan, with half of Southern Thedas crammed into skyhold: thanks for the castle, vhenan, we'd all literally be dead without it, again

Morrigan: erm, Inky? seems everyone's telling Rook Solas is just a big monster lying liar who lies and blaming him for everything

Lavellan: that's what people do, blame Solas. had a bad day? blame Solas. Mythal wants to sever the titans' dreams? Blame Solas. Rashvine nettle sting? Blame Solas. Bring the veil 5/7 or so of the way down themselves after releasing the blight? Blame Solas. Rook let the gods out? Blame Solas

Morrigan: Inky.

Lavellan: you want me to go pour out my heart to the person who imprisoned vhenan and let out Ghilan'nain, Mother of Tentacles, and Elgar'nan "My Dragon is Bigger than Your Dragon" First and Worst of the Evanuris, don't you

Morrigan: yee

Lavellan: FINE but you better spill every ounce of tea you've got on the stupid child before i go because i need to at least make rook squirm a LITTLE

Morrigan: i thought you'd never ask

Elgar'nan: you won't make my dragon bigger??? fine i'll move the moon instead

Northern Thedas: i'm sorry what

Anyone at sea anywhere on the planet: I'M SORRY WHAT

Ghilan'nain: *throws a temper tantrum and dies*

Elgar'nan: >:(

Solas: fuck this shit, i'm getting out of Fade Jail

Rook: :(

Minrathous: fuck fuck fuck FUCK fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK

Solas: hello, people who enslaved my people for millennia, i am here to save the day i guess

Minrathous, slapping blight tentacles out of their faces: ...honestly thank you

Solas: wait what

Rook: I ESCAPE FADE JAIL SOLAS YOU BASTARD LYING LIAR WHO LIES

Lavellan: i will not murder the stupid child, i will not murder the stupid child, i will not murder the stupid child

Solas: you know what, fair play, here's the dagger, there's elgar'nan, ima bite his dragon, you go have a great time. have fun storming the blight tentacle

Venatori, poster children for the Leopards Who Eat People's Faces Party: nooo the leopards keep eating our faces

Minrathous: wow who could have possibly predicted that

Everyone who has ever met a Venatori: yes, yes, very sad

Elgar'nan, eating every face in the magesterium and effectively cleansing Tevinter of the worst of its monsters in one fell swoop: ah, rook, you can't kill me, i have the biggest dragon ever to dragon

Dread Wolf: honestly he's kinda not wrong, this dragon is a bastard and i am like a fifth of its size and getting p tired, ngl

Rook's Blighted Companion: welp gonnae put this trauma to use for the greater good. go go gadget blight tentacles, release the Dread Pupper

Elgar'nan: *shocked pikachu*

Dread Wolf: *chomp*

Elgar'nan: *throws a temper tantrum and dies*

Solas: oh ffs finally

Rook: not so fast

Solas: oh ffs here we fucking go

Rook: i don't actually want to fight you

Solas: wait, what

Rook: i think this is all my fault but everyone keeps telling me i'm the hero and that's fucked up. and your vhenan, she's nice to me, no one really else is, i'm just everybody's apocalypse therapist, and i even kinda like you tbh, my whole team basically does fun stuff without me and doesn't even invite me to book club and emmrich's the only one who asks me about my feelings instead of just asking me to do stuff for them, and anyway, i'm going to trust the inquisitor here because i'm honestly starved for connection and she thinks you're worth saving so can we talk i don't wanna fight

Solas: what

Lavellan, out of sight, reliving the litany of "i will not murder this stupid child": oh haha awkward

Solas: look,,, i've been bound to the service of an ancient elvhen god for millennia and everything i do, whether i know it or not, is for her, so i can't do what you want and this sucks

Lavellan: even if i'm here, walking the din'an shiral with you?

Solas: ...vhenan

Lavellan: ;_;

Solas: ;_; ...I cannot

Morrigan: yo dread wolf, my mum's a piece of work and i have all her memories and everything she did to you was fuuuuuuuuucked up, anyway, over to her, honestly not pissed you killed that part of her btw, she reeeeally fucked you up, but rook somehow managed to talk her out of her essence, so that's impressive

Solas: what

Mythal: yeah i kinda tore you out of your home and twisted you from your purpose and made you do murder and worse for me for millennia and said i wanted your wisdom and then never ever listened to you ever and just dragged you through every atrocity i created and perpetuated

Solas: it hurts and i guess you're going to kill me now so here's the dagger ;_;

Mythal: it's still mostly your fault but i was there too i guess, anyway, i release you from my service, which i could have done at any point in the past several millennia but instead I tortured you endlessly, lol god of retribution, that's me. k bye

Solas: what the fucking fuck

Lavellan: right there with you, like literally forever, our love is a miracle and the only thing i can even cope with

Solas: yeah honestly fuck this shit, i'm out, i will put myself in fade jail

Lavellan: you are not going by yourself i stg take me with you i wanna go home

Solas: ...home is a literal prison now

Lavellan: sealed away from all this shit? from getting blamed for everything we do no matter how much we sacrifice? if it's you and me there together, i don't care if it's a grey box full of darkspawn

Solas: there's no darkspa--

Lavellan: ffs i said i want to go, you don't have to sell me on it. you're the only person in this world who Gets It. we go on together, forever.

Solas: *.* my wife

Lavellan: *.* my wolf

Northern Thedas: and rook saved the world from the dread wolf, who was a lying liar who lies

Southern Thedas: *busy being dead and blighted*

Lavellan: yeah, fuck this shit, we're out

You can now download this shitpost in beautifully formatted PDF, courtesy of @amburuthings. Thank u for your service *salutes*

You all have had me howling with the tags on reblogs, thank you, I am absolutely dying in deadline hell and needed that

[cowboybeepboop]

Perfection

 "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader 

Genre: smut

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: You’re Sergei’s closest (and only) friend, one night things become more than just friendly.

a/n: as always send any request you have my way! I’ll get to them asap 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the foliage above, you felt an eerie presence nearby. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught a flicker of movement among the trees. It was Sergei, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

You'd found him in this very forest when he had first left home, and now, years later, he remained a silent guardian. 

Sergei stood amidst the shadows of the forest, his form blending seamlessly with the surrounding foliage. His gaze lingered on you, studying your every detail. The familiar scent of the forest and your presence filled his senses, stirring a mix of nostalgia and concern within him.

"You've been here a while," he observed, his voice a low rumble. "Looking for something?"

"Just watching," you murmur, standing as he approaches your side. you brush your hands over your jeans, grinning as you look up at him. 

Sergei, towering above you, stands close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes study your every movement, taking in the way your hands brush over your jeans. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Watching, eh?" he remarks, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate through the forest around you. "Find anything interesting?"

"Not particularly, well at least not before you showed up," you observe his strong features in the sunlight, hands aching to touch him.

Sergei's smirk widens as he notices the way your eyes roam over his features, taking in the play of sunlight on his chiseled face. He can feel the subtle tension rising between you, a familiar pull that has always been there.

"Is that right?" he responds in a low, amused tone. "So, I'm more interesting than the scenery then?"

"But of course," you glance around, "the forest doesn't exactly talk back, does it?" 

Sergei's lips quirk into a crooked smile as he considers your retort. His eyes follow the movement of your gaze, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

"True, the forest is a silent spectator." he muses, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But I happen to be a little more engaging than a few trees and squirrels."

Then, his tone shifts slightly, a touch more commanding yet laced with an underlying softness. "You should join me for dinner. It's late, and I doubt you've eaten anything substantial."

"What's on the menu?" you grin, linking your arm with his as he begins to guide you to his home.

As you link your arm with his, Sergei lets out a chuckle at your question. It was never a struggle to get you to come along when food was involved.

"Nothing fancy, just a simple meal," he replies, his hand instinctively resting on top of yours as he guides you through the trail he and his family had made years before. "Some stew from a rabbit I caught earlier, fresh bread, and maybe a few berries if I can find any."

"Sounds perfect, Sergei." you lean your head against his shoulder, enjoying the heat that's radiating off of him. 

As your head rests on his shoulder, Sergei glances down at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. The familiarity of your touch and the way you lean into him stirs emotions within him. He'd always been protective of you, seeing you as someone he needed to keep safe.

He continues to guide you along the path, the sound of nocturnal creatures filling the night air. "You're quiet tonight," he notes, his voice gentle. "Everything alright?"

Your eyes widen as he catches on to your distracted mind, thoughts filled with the idea of being in his home and surrounded by his scent rather than making conversations. "Of course..." you murmur, "Just a little.. preoccupied." you grin up at him 

Sergei narrows his eyes slightly, a mix of concern and curiosity in his gaze. Your vague answer and the hint of a grin on your face pique his interest, making him even more curious.

"Preoccupied, hm?" he muses, a hint of humor in his voice. "With what exactly?" His arm tightens its hold on you, pulling you closer as if to physically keep you from drifting away in thought.

"That's a secret," you retort, eyes glued on the building ahead of the both of you, Sergei finally guiding you inside his home. 

Sergei's smirk only widens at your response, your words fueling the curiosity further. He watches the way your eyes dart towards his home, knowing exactly what you're thinking. With a slight chuckle, he leads you inside.

The interior is cozy and warm, lit by a few oil lamps that cast a soft, flickering glow over the room. The scent of woodsmoke and herbs fills the air. Sergei closes the door behind you, locking it securely.

"A secret, huh?" he muses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you've got me genuinely intrigued."

You take a seat on the couch, relaxing into the plush fabric. "I'll tell you after dinner, I'm too hungry to wait." you pull a blanket over your body, instantly making yourself at home in the familiar environment. 

Sergei watches as you settle into the couch, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Your ability to make yourself at home in his space doesn't go unnoticed, and he finds it almost endearing.

"Fair enough," he smirks, moving towards the small kitchenette area. "Dinner won't take too long. I promise I'll have you spilling your secrets soon enough." He grabs a few items from his cupboards and sets to work on preparing the meal.

"Take your time pretty boy," you murmur, eyes glued to his back as he moves around the kitchen.

Sergei's shoulders visibly tense for a moment as your voice drifts over to him, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. Your playful nickname causes a familiar heat to rise up within him, and he can feel your gaze on his back.

Without turning around, he responds in a low, teasing tone, "Careful, I might get used to the praise."

"Youre right, I cant inflate your ego too much." you giggle softly. He finally finishes the meal, bringing you a bowl of the stew.

Sergei carries the bowl of warm stew back to the living area, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he sets it down in front of you. He doesn't miss the way your eyes light up at the sight and smell of the food, and it only adds to his amusement.

"Here," he says, placing the bowl gently in your hands. "Be careful, it's still hot."

Once you have the bowl securely in your grasp, Sergei takes a step back, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He watches you closely, his gaze taking in every movement, as you bring the spoon to your lips and take a tentative taste of the stew.

"It's perfect Sergei, amazing." you hum in satisfaction, your eyes meeting his while you enjoy the meal he prepared.

Sergei's smirk blossoms into a satisfied smile as he watches you relish the meal. Hearing your genuine praise and seeing the contentment on your face brings a sense of satisfaction to him. 

"Glad you like it," he replies, leaning back a bit as he observes you. His smirk morphs into a wry grin, and he adds, "I promise I didn't poison it."

"Well of course not, you can't go poisoning your only friend." the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you finish your meals. Once you place the empty bowl on the coffee table you feel the intense stare boring into the side of your head, Sergei watching your every move.

As you set your empty bowl aside, you can feel Sergei's intense gaze on you. His eyes meticulously watch you, cataloging every movement, every flicker of emotion that passes across your face. Being the center of his unblinking attention is a sensation that never fails to awaken the butterflies in your stomach.

After a moment, he breaks the silence. His voice is low, with a hint of huskiness in his tone. "So... about that little secret you've been holding onto..."

"Well, I was thinking.. about asking you if I could stay here for the night." you turn to him, expression pleading. "Look I know it's a little inconvenient-" he interrupts you.

Before you can finish your statement, Sergei cuts you off. You sense a hint of surprise mixed with something else in his expression, but it's quickly concealed behind his usual smirk.

He crosses his arms over his chest, a slightly challenging look in his eyes. "Let me get this straight," he says, his voice taking on a dry edge. "You want to... crash here for the night, no explanation?"

"Well I was going to explain but you interrupted.." you murmur, voice soft as your gaze falls to your hands. "It's just I really like spending time with you.." 

Sergei's expression softens as he hears the note of disappointment in your voice. The hint of challenge in his eyes fades, replaced by a touch of guilt. He doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on your lowered hands.

After a moment, he sighs heavily, his voice holding a hint of resignation. "So, that's your big secret then? You just want more time with me?"

"Yes.." you whisper, silently cursing yourself for ever bringing it up. You always knew that your affections were one sided yet the confirmation of it hurts more than you were anticipating. 

Sergei's eyes are unreadable as he absorbs your words, his expression neutral. A moment of silence follows, the only sound in the room the soft crackle of the fireplace. His gaze is fixed on you, studying your expression and the subtle change in your demeanor.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, a hint of sympathy lacing his words. "Is that the only reason? You just... want to be around me more?"

"I like your company, you're comfortable, *familiar*." you carefully gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes. 

A muscle in Sergei's jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your big, pleading eyes meeting his. The sight stirs something within him, but he's not entirely sure what it is. 

After a moment, he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression a mix of resignation and something else. "Fine," he mutters, looking away. "You can stay here whenever. But only on one condition."

"Anything you want." you smile, moving closer to him, your eyes filled with excitement. 

Sergei notices the way you shift closer to him, the gleam of excitement in your eyes making it obvious how much you want to be close to him. He lets out a huff, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Anything, huh?" he muses, his voice a low rumble. "Careful, you're giving me free reign to make all sorts of demands now."

"You're free to make any demands, it is your house after all." you bring your hands to his knees, fingers gently digging into his clothed skin. "But what is your condition?"

As you place your hands on his knees and dig your fingers into his skin, Sergei can feel a slight shiver run down his spine. The mixture of surprise and a sudden flare of heat takes him momentarily off guard, and he has to force himself to focus on the conversation. 

He takes a moment to reply, eyes flickering down to your fingers before fixing on your face again. "My condition..."

He pauses, swallowing back a sharp reply and instead opting for a straightforward request. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then where will I sleep?" your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you move closer.

Your closeness causes Sergei's breath to hitch ever so slightly, his eyes roaming over your face as you approach. He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. 

"You can take my bed," he says bluntly, his gaze not wavering from yours. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No," you begin to protest, "can we share the bed? I don't want to steal it from you..."

Sergei blinks, clearly not expecting your response. The idea of sharing his bed with you had never occurred to him before, but now that you've suggested it, he can't deny the spark of heat it ignites within him.

He clears his throat, trying to maintain his cool composure. "You... want to share the bed?" he repeats, his voice a touch huskier than usual.

"Yes.." you grin sweetly, "I'd love to." Sergei can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as you grin sweetly up at him, your eagerness obvious. The thought of sharing his bed with you - of having you that close to him for an entire night - is suddenly far more appealing than he wants to admit. 

He swallows, trying to regain some sense of control. "Very well," he manages, his voice rough. "You can share the bed with me, then."

"Shall we head to bed then? It is getting a bit late.." you yawn quietly. 

With your yawn catching his attention, Sergei glances at the nearby clock. It was indeed getting late. The thought of sharing a bed with you is still on his mind, but he has to admit, he's also feeling rather tired.

"Right." he agrees huskily. He stands from the couch, offering you a hand to help you up. "Let's get some sleep then."

"Lead the way, handsome." you follow close behind as he guides you into his bedroom.

As you follow behind him, your light footsteps echoing quietly against the wooden floorboards, Sergei leads you into his simple yet cozy bedroom. The space is just big enough for a queen-size bed and a small dresser, but it's kept tidy and neat.

He steps aside to allow you to enter first, gesturing towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he murmurs, his eyes on you the entire time.

"Thank you, Sergei." you silently creep into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed before sliding out of your pants, folding and placing them on the nightstand. You're blissfully unaware of his tense gaze, watching as you pull your bra off from under your shirt, placing it off to the side. 

Sergei stands in the doorway, watching every one of your movements with unblinking intensity. His eyes seem to follow your every gesture like a hawk tracking its prey. Your casual actions - stripping off your pants and then your bra - are like a slow, torturous reveal to him. 

His jaw clenches, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggles to maintain his composure. He cannot deny the effect your presence in his space - in his *bed* \- is having on him.

With a final small stretch you slip beneath the covers, eyes wandering to look at him in the doorway. "Are you coming in?" you murmur, not wanting to steal his space from him.

Sergei's eyes remain glued to you as you slip beneath the covers, a mixture of desire and restraint clearly visible in his gaze. At your question, he snaps out of his trance, realizing he's just been standing there staring. 

He clears his throat slightly, steeling himself before slowly approaching the bed and pulling back the covers on the other side. "Yeah. I'm coming in." 

He slides into the bed beside you, trying to maintain a distance but finding himself drawn to your warmth.

"Good night Sergei.." you whisper in the silent and dark room, eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into the sheets. The sound of your soft voice whispering goodnight only serves to heighten his senses, the intimacy of the situation making it difficult for him to even breathe. 

"Good night," he mutters in response, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment longer before he turns his gaze to the ceiling. It's going to be a long night.

As the minutes tick by, Sergei finds himself unable to sleep. Your body is a mere arm's length away from him, causing the most primal part of his brain to struggle against the temptation to pull you flush against him. 

He tries to think of anything else - anything that could distract him from the overwhelming desire surging through him. Yet, no matter what he tries, his mind drifts back to you, lying so close but still just out of reach...

You shift in your sleep, soft incoherent murmurs slipping from your parted lips as you move closer to him, craving the heat of his body, the feel of his skin against yours. 

As you shift closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth in your sleep, it takes every ounce of Sergei's willpower not to react. He feels the heat of your body as you press up against him, your murmurs sounding like a soft siren's song to his lust-fogged brain. 

He grits his teeth, his muscles coiled tight as he struggles to resist the urge to pull you even closer. "Fuck..." he mutters under his breath, his heartbeat increasing with every inch that separates your bodies.

Your bare leg wraps around his thigh as you pull yourself flush against him, your cheek pressing into his chest. You stir slightly, eyes fluttering open and blinking slowly. 

You place your hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his abs as you turn your head to look at him. Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you make eye contact with him, "Is everything alright?" 

As you stir and awaken, the innocent brush of your fingers against his chest sets his nerve endings ablaze. His skin tingles wherever you touch, the feel of your bare leg wrapped around his sending a jolt of heat through him. 

He meets your gaze, his own eyes dark with poorly concealed desire. "It's... fine," he manages to rasp out, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to your touch. "Just... can't sleep, that's all."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" your eyes lock with his, full of sleepy affection.

Your sleepy gaze, full of warmth and affection, only makes Sergei's self-control slip further. He swallows roughly, his hand itching to reach out and touch you, to pull you even closer to him. 

"I... I don't... know..." he whispers hoarsely. His gaze drifts down to your parted lips, the temptation to lean in and claim them nearly overpowering. "You're making this very... *difficult* for me, you know." Your eyes widen as you realize his implication, your body tensing slightly. 

Sergei can feel the tension in your body as you realize the meaning behind his words. He curses himself silently, hating the way your slight recoil makes him feel. 

He loosens his grip on your hip, shifting to create a small gap between your bodies, his voice dropping to a more soothing tone. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... your presence here, in my bed... it's stirring up some unexpected... *desires*."

"Do you.. desire me?" your voice is a breathless whisper as you scan his features, your heart pounding rapidly inside you.

Your quiet question hangs in the air, and Sergei finds himself hesitating for a moment, the weight of his answer almost too much to bear. His gaze fixates on you, unflinching, as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your hip. 

"Yes," he finally responds, his voice a rough, low rumble. "I do. More than you could possibly understand."

You take a shakey deep breath, gathering the confidence to make a move on this gentle giant. You slide the blankets off of your bodies, moving to straddle his hips, your eyes full of desire as you gaze down at him. 

Sergei's eyes widen slightly as you remove the blankets and boldly straddle his hips, your unexpected move taking him off guard. The sight of you looming over him, your eyes full of desire, sends a sharp thrill of heat through his body and straight to his core. 

His hands fly to your hips, gripping them with a possessive force. "What are you doing...?" he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with restrained desire.

"Sergei.. I want you." you press your palms to his chest, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his. 

As you begin to rock your hips against his, Sergei feels a growl rumble in his chest, his fingers digging further into the flesh of your hips. The pressure builds between your bodies, the friction of your movements driving him wild. 

He grabs your wrists, pinning them down on his chest as he looks up at you, his eyes full of a primal need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he hisses, his voice barely recognizable.

You continue to grind against him, soft unintelligible noises falling from your lips as you get lost in the feeling of his hardness pressed into your cunt.

With each movement of your hips, Sergei's control unravels further. The feel of your body, grinding against his hardness, sends a surge of raw need through him. He groans loudly, his grasp on your wrists tightening as he fights to maintain some semblance of restraint. 

"Fuck... You... You're going to drive me insane," he mutters, his voice rough and hoarse. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"

Sergei's eyes flare with a wild, almost desperate hunger as he watches you, his restrained power a stark contrast to your unbridled passion. He releases your wrists, allowing his hands to glide up your arms, feeling the softness of your skin against his calloused fingers. "If we do this..." he warns, his voice strained with need. "There's no going back." His words hang in the air, a silent question and a promise wrapped in one.

"I know..  know but I need you, Sergei please." you whine, lost in the intoxication of his body against yours. 

Sergei's eyes darken further, the raw desire in them unmistakable. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment, it seems like he's fighting an internal battle. Then, with a low growl, he surrenders to the need, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. 

He leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss that steals your breath away, his tongue demanding entry as your bodies become one in a tangle of heat and passion. The bed beneath you creaks as he rolls you over, his strong arms holding you firmly in place as his hips surge up to meet yours. 

Breaking the kiss, Sergei's eyes never leaving yours, he reaches down to tug at the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, he pulls it over his head, revealing the defined planes of his chest and abs, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. 

His gaze is intense as he watches you, his movements deliberate as he undoes the button of his pants and slides them down, his erection springing free. Without breaking eye contact, his hands move to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt and lifting it up over your head. 

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose your bare skin to the cool night air. The anticipation is palpable, his eyes never leaving yours as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down further, exposing your wet, eager cunt. 

He groans low in his throat, the sight of your nakedness driving him closer to the edge. With one swift move, he rids himself of his own underwear, his cock bobbing heavily with desire. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers sliding through your slickness before he lines himself up, his tip brushing against your entrance. 

"Ready?" he asks, his voice a harsh whisper, his eyes burning with need. At your nod, he pushes into you with a slow, agonizingly sweet motion, filling you completely as he buries himself to the hilt.

You nod, unable to find words as his cock slides into you with an agonizing slowness that makes you quiver with anticipation. Your eyes never leave his as he continues to fill you completely, stretching and claiming every inch of your body with a passionate dominance that sends shivers down your spine. 

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, his powerful strokes setting a rhythm that echoes through the quiet night. Each thrust is punctuated by a guttural groan, his eyes never leaving yours as you both get lost in the moment. 

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, mingling with the faint aroma of the stew from dinner. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the coolness of the sheets, creating a delicious friction that sends sparks of pleasure dancing across your skin. 

As he moves within you, Sergei's eyes burn with an intensity that you've never seen before, and you can't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you are exactly where you're meant to be. His every touch, every kiss feels like coming home, and for the first time in a long time, you feel truly alive and desired.

With each powerful thrust, Sergei's control frays further, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. His hands grip your hips, guiding your body to meet his with a perfect rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

You moan his name, your nails digging into his back as your body arches off the bed, begging for more. The room is a symphony of your muffled cries and his feral grunts, the sound of flesh slapping together in an intimate dance. Your eyes are locked in a silent conversation of passion, the fire in his gaze igniting a fierce need within you. 

You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him as the pressure builds. "Sergei, I'm... I'm going to cum," you gasp out, your body trembling. 

He responds with a low growl, his strokes becoming faster, deeper, pushing you over the precipice until you shatter in his arms, your climax ripping through you like lightning in a summer storm. He follows close behind, his own release a powerful wave that crashes over both of you, leaving you breathless and spent, your bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets.

He falls to the bed next to you, satisfaction filling his body as you cuddle into his warmth. As you both lay there, the night's passion still lingering in the air, Sergei's thoughts whirl with conflicting emotions. 

He can feel your gentle breath against his chest, the weight of your body against his own, and a sudden realization hits him like a punch in the gut. He can no longer deny the depth of what he feels for you. 

The way he had just made love to you - as passionately, hungrily, almost desperately as he had - betrayed his true feelings. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as he tries to make sense of his thoughts.

"Sergei," you breathe out his name, your eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into him. 

As you breathe out his name, Sergei's arms tighten around you instinctively. He feels a sudden wave of protectiveness wash over him, a fierce need to keep you safe and loved. 

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Yes, my darling?" he mutters into the darkness, his voice thick with an emotion he doesn't dare name.

"That.. that was good," you murmur sleepily, body slowly relaxing.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he listens to your sleepy murmur. He can hear the contented exhaustion in your voice, the way your body is melting into his embrace. "Good, huh?" he replies, his tone soft and faintly teasing. "Just good?"

"Perfect." you correct yourself, causing a satisfied and cocky smirk to rest on his lips. 

A cocky smirk forms on Sergei's lips as you correct yourself, his ego swelling at your praise. "Perfect, hm?" he repeats, his voice laced with self-satisfaction. 

He leans down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

[bitteriekitten]

you make me wanna blush.

synopsis — telling your lads boyfriends that you have a crush on them <3

warnings — just disgusting fluff i fear

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — this is my first fluffy work and it's reminding me how single i am irl 😀 also if u want to be tagged in my future works don't forget to send me an ask asap! anyway have fun reading and lmk what yall think!! love u lots <3

lili's navigation

After receiving a weirdly ominous text from you–we need to talk, ASAP–Xavier was relieved to notice the shy smile on your face. It didn’t seem that important after all, but his curiosity was already piqued. As he sat on the empty chair next to you, he smiled when you tucked in a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m here. What did you need to tell me?” he asked you.

You glanced at your boyfriend and immediately looked away, your face heating up. “I have something to tell you…” you muttered. 

Xavier waited for you to continue talking, scooting closer to you. He leaned closer to you and blinked curiously. 

“I… have a crush on you, Xavier.”

Xavier let out a laugh and grabbed your hand, kissing it firmly and then letting it rest against his cheek. “That’s what got you so worked up?” he teased, contradicting the quickening of his heartbeat. 

“Hey! Confessing to you like this takes hard work!” you protested and squished your boyfriend’s cheek in your hands. Xavier chuckled and kissed your palm, “Don’t worry, I have a crush on you too.”

Zayne could already tell that you were up to something from the way you were trying to stifle your grin. He sat across from you on the dining table, where you kept stealing glances at him. Zayne wiped the corner of his mouth for any crumbs and focused his attention onto you.

“Okay, what are you up to?” he asked directly. 

You grinned at your boyfriend, “I… have a huge crush on someone.” you replied.

Zayne raised an eyebrow at that; that was not what he was expecting. But he finally knew what you were up to. He then smiled, picking up an uneaten macaron from the box you bought for him earlier. “Is that so? Tell me who this person is.”

You giggled, glad that he was playing along. “Well, he’s a really good doctor at Akso Hospital… and he’s super smart…”

Zayne hummed, “He sounds familiar. Is he a colleague of mine?”

“Hmm, does a Dr. Zayne Li ring any bells?” 

Zayne chuckled and gestured for you to open your mouth, where he then gently placed the macaron into it. “That’s good to know, because I believe this Dr. Zayne Li has a crush on you too.” he said. You laughed at his reply, kissing his fingertips as you chew down on the macaron. 

Rafayel thought he’d gone deaf, “What did you just say?”

“I said, I have a crush on somebody.” you repeated, your smile growing wider. Rafayel frowned deeply; why would you have a crush on somebody else when he was right there? 

“You’re being ridiculous, cutie. I’m literally right here! Why would you have crushes when I’m right here?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I have a crush on you, dummy!” you said.

It takes Rafayel a while to register what you had just told him. By the time it sinks in, you were already bent over laughing at him. Rafayel whined, “Hey, this isn’t funny!” he protested, pulling you into his arms. You continued to giggle, “It’s a little funny–you got so worked up!”

Rafayel affectionately rolled his eyes at you, opting to place a thousand kisses over your face to shut you up instead. 

“Sylus.”

Sylus looked up from his phone with a hum. You walked into your shared bedroom in just his shirt, your face still wet from washing it. “What is it, sweetie?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take. He pulled you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss to your head as you sat with your back to his chest. 

“I… have a crush.”

“Oh?” Sylus smirked, instantly getting what you were up to. You nodded, your face hilariously serious for such a tiny thing. “Yeah. I’ve had it since forever.” you replied in a hilariously serious tone.

“Is that so? On who?” he asked, playing along. You let out a breathless laugh as his large hands began massaging your back. “I’d like to know so I can… have a little chat with this person,” he added.

“Well, how are you going to have this little chat with yourself, then?” you asked, turning your head to face him. Sylus let out his signature expensive laugh and kissed your nose.

 “Alright, you’ve outsmarted me, kitten.” he said fondly.

Nothing can ever truly bypass Caleb, not even your harmless pranks. He could already see what you were up to from miles away, but he pretends to be oblivious about it anyway. 

“So, Caleb…” you said, grabbing his arm and letting it rest over your shoulder so you could be closer to him. Caleb welcomes this skinship, trying his best not to smile. “Yeah, Pipsqueak?” he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as if you were actually nervous. Caleb chuckles and slides his arm down to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“I… have a crush on somebody.”

Caleb scoffed, “Really now? Who is this lucky person?” 

You pretended to think about it, “Mmm, I don’t wanna tell you… you might know who he is.”

Caleb smirked, of course you wouldn’t tell him right away. “Aw shucks, I wanted to tell you who my crush is if you had told me yours.” he said with a faux pout. 

You immediately snap your attention to his words, trying to find out if he was messing with you or not, “You’re not being fair!” you whined. Caleb laughed at your reaction, hugging you with both of his arms around you this time. “Then just tell me who this mystery man is and I’ll tell you who my crush is!”

“It’s you, obviously!” you said, pouting up at Caleb. He cooed at your flustered face and kissed the apples of your cheeks. “That’s great to know, Pipsqueak, because I have a crush on you too.” he sighed, his lips against your flushed skin.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[kthologue]

onsen incident  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru gets everything he wants and right now he really wants to go to an onsen with you.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he's just a cute loser, highschool!gojo (first year), he needs to be locked up asap

notes. this is part ii to indulge me? and a piece in the series, but can be read alone.

you’re not sure how you ended up here. one moment you were exorcizing a grade one curse that rampaged a small town with gojo and now you find yourself back at the ryokan you had stayed at the prior night. except this time around you have an overly excited gojo, still at a high from the successful mission.

“suguru mentioned how nice the onsens here were,” he brings up innocently, his lips curving into a sly grin. you spare him a side glance. 

“we should be heading back to the airport to return to tokyo,” you asserted, eyes trained on the entrance of the onsen— a wooden paneled door leading to the private hot spring that came with the room you and gojo had unknowingly reserved. 

gojo stretched leisurely, his body arched like a cat as he yawns, “i don’t know about you but i’m beat! that curse wore out all my energy and a quick dip in an onsen is just what this body needs.” he opens one eye, gauging your reaction.

you don’t buy his act. “you exorcised the curse instantaneously, gojo.”

but gojo doesn’t back down easily, “yeah, well that took up a lot of cursed energy and now i’m drained,” he reasons. the white haired male solidifies his argument by collapsing on you just to show how fatigued he was. his dramatic show nearly sends you tumbling.

annoyance simmered in you, arms folding over your chest. the flight back to tokyo was in a couple of hours, and you had hoped to be able to go sightseeing. 

but gojo’s sky-blue eyes plead silently as they look up at you, unblinking. his pink lips start to quiver. it was hard to deny him when he was basically begging. as comical as his dramatics were, you could almost argue how hard it was to resist his unwavering gaze. plus, he was the one that completed the mission singlehandedly.  

“fine.” you yielded. “thirty minutes and then we leave.”

he perks up happily.

“great! let’s go!” without wasting a moment, he seizes your hand and practically skips to the entrance. 

you recoiled, nearly shrieking, “you pervert! i’m not going in there with you! i’m going to go sightseeing.” 

gojo looks at you like you’ve sprouted two heads.

“... then what’s the point of the onsen?” he looked at you incredulously. it deeply troubled you that someone so conniving could look so innocent.

your response is caught in your throat, leaving you flustered and unable to make eye contact. arms remained crossed, you mutter, “you’re insane if you think i’m stepping foot in an onsen with you.”

gojo’s tongue prodded at his cheek, lost in thought, “they do say you have to be insane to be a jujutsu sorcerer." he looks at you all enthused, "don’t be shy now, we’ve already slept together after all.” there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“we slept in the same bed– not together! don’t you go spreading that around now,” you jump to cup a hand over his mouth. you feel him grin underneath the palm of your hand.

“same thwing,” gojo’s voice is muffled, but he doesn’t bother taking your soft hand off his face. 

“it is not,” you furrow your eyebrows. 

“it can be.” he wiggles his eyebrows, a boyish smile growing.

you remove your hand from his face, “have you no shame?” 

“not a shred,” he declares cheerfully. “come on, we’re wasting precious time standing here. i can feel the steaming water calling our names.” 

“i’ve told you already, gojo. i’m not going to a hot spring naked with you.” 

he waves his hand dismissively, “you don’t have to be naked, it’s not unheard of for people to go in with a towel.”

you sigh exasperatedly at his stubborn disposition, “it would still be highly inappropriate.”

“as inappropriate as cuddling with your classmate while he’s naked and unconscious?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively. gojo was once again referring to the previous night’s moment of vulnerability.

you stiffen. 

“it was not like that and you know it. for all i know, you were the one cuddling me,” you retorted, crossing your arms with a huff.

 gojo raises his hands in defense, “how about we call it even and hop in the hot spring together as a compromise?”

“that doesn’t make any sense.”

“it makes perfect sense. just two classmates relieving the weight of the world off their shoulders.” 

you hate that he’s starting to convince you. 

the knowing smile creeping on gojo’s face signals that he’s sensed your weakening resolve. he decides to deal the finishing blow.

“this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. with busy lives like ours, who knows the next time we will be able to visit one of the world’s best hot springs?” he gestures dramatically. reluctantly, you start to give into his words.

“fine. but if i see you indecent, i will kill you.” you point a finger threateningly at gojo. 

he simply chuckles, “kinky.”

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

gojosatowu attachment: 1 image

shoko.ieiri what the actual hell gojo.  i did not need to see a picture of you with nothing but a towel on. ts is disgusting.

getosugu where is [name]? i thought you guys were returning from your mission today.

gojosatowu heh the two of us are going to take a little dip in kyushu’s world famous onsens haha :3

shoko.ieiri WHAT

getosugu  you?? [name]?? onsen?? together?? gojo satoru explain hello?

shoko.ieiri where is [name] you dirty pervert  i swear i’ll murder you if you pull any dirty tricks answer now

gojosatowu gotta go! ive been dreaming of this day ><

shoko.ieiri  don’t you go ignoring us!!

you’re already settled in the hot spring by the time gojo arrives. with a snug towel secured tightly around your body, you are submerged underwater from the chest down. the steam curls lazily into the air, casting a dreamlike haze around you.

“for someone that was excited about the onsen, you came awfully late,” you quipped at the snow-haired boy. his signature glasses are absent, allowing you complete access to his azure eyes. on the other hand, gojo is granted the opportunity of seeing you in all of your natural beauty.

gojo enters the steaming water just a couple of feet away from you, “had to calm myself before seeing you.” he sighs contentedly when the water envelopes him. it was true. his nerves were a lot calmer when he was fighting the grade one curse than the short walk from the changing room to the hot spring.

you can't help but roll your eyes at his obvious flirtation attempt, but you decide to let it slide.

the conversation lapses into silence, an awkward veil settling between you. you were starting to regret ever entertaining gojo’s invitation to the onsen. to escape the discomfort, you divert your gaze to the steam rising from the water's surface and the surrounding rocks. the trees around you start to look interesting as you focus on not letting you eyes stray on gojo’s solid buil—

breaking the silence, gojo interjects, "did ya think i looked cool taking down that curse?"

your eyes shift from the rocks to gojo’s face, “it was quite impressive how you were able to crush the curse with your infinity.” you have heard of stories of gojo’s strength, but seeing it with your very own eyes was truly incredible.

he preens under your praise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"perhaps i deserve a reward," he suggests, his voice taking on a playful tone.

you entertain the idea, your curiosity piqued. "i suppose you do."

a deeper flush tinges gojo's cheeks, and he averts his gaze. without warning, he points at his cheek, anticipating something. you tilt your head, puzzled by his unspoken request. he keeps pointing to his cheek, poking it multiple times.

“…”

“give me a kiss!”

the water ripples with how fast you lean back, “huh? no way.”

undeterred, gojo shakes his head. "fine then. i guess i'll have to kiss you.”

your eyes widen as he leans closer, and you instinctively scoot away, surprised by his boldness. "what? no!"

“eh?! why not? i went total snowagumon on that curse!”

“that’s your job gojo,” you respond matter-of-factly. you’re a bit taken aback by his digimon reference. how dorky.

gojo clicks his tongue, feigning indignation as he looks away. “hmph. can’t even get appreciation for keeping the world in balance.” 

you let out a resigned sigh, realizing he's being dramatic again. it almost feels like dealing with a child. but you suppose you’ll play right into his hands this time– and this time only. he has worked hard on this mission, taking on all the work while you watch idly from the sidelines.

hesitantly, you inch closer towards his frame. the distance closes as you lean towards his face. it was only a split second, but your lips placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

you watch what once was a pink blush blossomed into something deeper. gojo sits up a little straighter and you notice how the corner of his lips are slightly upward.

“gojo, are you oka–” 

“satoru. call me satoru,” he interjected, sounding breathless, his eyes locking on yours. 

you look at him, uncertain. “isn’t that a bit too informal? we’ve only known each other for a couple of months.”

“if it was up to me, we’d be married by now,” satoru closes his eyes nonchalantly, sinking deeply into the water until half of his face is under. he blows a series of bubbles. he really was a child.

your laughter rings out melodiously as you throw your head back, finding his remark utterly amusing.  “you’re actually ridiculous.” 

satoru watches you with a soft smile, his heart feeling lighter. it was criminal how cute you were. if this was his reward for exorcizing a measly grade one curse, he was willing to wipe out all special grades on the earth just to receive your praise again. maybe next time you'll even kiss him on the lips (he'll die a happy man if that happens).

"i am, aren't i?" he muses, basking in the joy of the moment.

extra notes. i lowk hate this but due to popular demand i had to write it. ps i dont even know anything abt digimon i js know gojo likes it gn (forgive me if my digimon reference was totally wrong)

[yyuangss]

MORE GIRL TALK ! ( STAR RAIL MEN )

SUMMARY ! march 7th finds out you like someone. and as your best friend, it’s only right that she has to give her input on whether or not she approves of him.

NOTES ! part one of girl talk (dan heng, caelus, sampo, jing yuan, and argenti). need hoyo to give the biggest girl’s girl they’ve ever created a bff asap. she deserves it after everything she’s been through 🫡 this goes out to that one anon. if you’re reading this, i added a bonus for you <3

TAGS ! reader is not the trailblazer. contains gepard landu, dr. ratio, aventurine, and boothill. possible spoilers for penacony quest in aventurine’s part, tried to keep it very vague and minimal. feelings are mutual on both ends.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . GEPARD LANDAU !

the biggest mistake you’ve made is telling march you have feelings for the captain of the silvermane guards. because now she’s made herself the conductor of the express, switching course to jarilo-vi, crash landing terribly, and running all the way to serval to ask if gepard has feelings for you. march always assumed there might have been some mutual pinning from gepard’s side. he probably thought he was the best at hiding his feelings, except it didn’t help that he constantly shielded you whenever you were at risk of being at harms way. which in her opinion means he’s willing to protect you no matter what. this trait was very important and she will not let you pass up on that opportunity. according to serval, gepard had already confessed to his sister how he felt towards you and was too shy to admit it. once she confirmed his mutual feelings, serval and march are on matchmaker duty.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . DR. RATIO !

march does think that ratio is mean and extremely talkative. she also believes him to be selfish. there’s already a negative perception of him in her mind. though, her opinion on him is only based off the first time the express met him. compared to you, she hasn’t gotten the chance to truly know him (not that she really wants to). so, march says her judgement is biased and null in this case. she hears a different side when you’re in her room, telling her all about him and how he’s incorporated you into his very busy schedule. and it’s proven to her whenever ratio boards the express for the sole purposes of visiting you. or he’s arriving at the space station around the same time the express gets there, despite having prior plans made. march is very suspicious how the two of you aren’t dating yet. actions speak louder than words and ratio’s actions make her very impressed.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . AVENTURINE !

march won’t lie, she has heavy mixed opinions for aventurine and still doubtful of him. it’s possible that the entire astral express would share these mixed opinions if you told one of them. on one hand, she’s grateful for all the help he aided with. had he not been there, you all would’ve never gotten into penacony. she’s surprised to hear you ran into him several times when you were exploring. it’s where you got to know him while he showed you around, taking you to all the best sight seeing locations. aventurine didn’t waste a second to express his interest in you. even after what happened with him before the final battle in penacony, he still showed that same interest. which is why march doesn’t know why you’re wasting time telling her about your feelings towards him when you should be admitting them to aventurine instead. her mixed opinions will still be present. once she gets to know him like you did, they’ll eventually fade and she’ll be less on the weary side.

BONUS !

dan heng’s thoughts on . . . BOOTHILL !

“oh.” is all he says. dan heng is not very vocal, so his expression and body language tell you all you need to know. in this case, a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look forming on his face. he’s not really interested in this type of talk and that’s one of the main reasons. still, as your closest friend, dan heng doesn’t want you to think that you and your feelings aren’t important to him. his quiet demeanor makes him more observant. watching you and boothill interact makes dan heng realize how truly oblivious you are. it’s clear as day that the interstellar cowboy is interested in you. unless he’s the only person who has caught on to the mutual feelings. but there’s no way especially with all the darlin’s and sweetheart’s boothill calls you. either way, in his opinion, you should be with who makes you happy and dan heng won’t stop you from that. will bluntly expose yours and boothill’s attraction if either of you take too long.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

[brookghaib-blog]

The ghost I left behind

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Note: I wrote this with Sunshine & Rain.. By Kali Uchis, feel free to enjoy this with that on repeat to really feel it burn. Also please somebody give me HD gifs asap. Also if you hadn't read the preview yet, I recommend it!

Word count: 4,7k

Preview

--

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an ugly green tinge over the already-drab walls of the 23rd Precinct. Y/N pushed the door open with her elbow, hands full—one holding a stack of wrinkled flyers with Bob’s photo on them, the other clutching the hem of her coat closed.

The front desk officer didn’t even look up.

The bell above the door had long since stopped ringing for her.

She shuffled to the counter. She was wearing the same hoodie she always wore—his hoodie, oversized and faintly smelling of old laundry detergent and smoke. Her stomach was just beginning to curve outward, subtle but undeniable beneath the fabric. Four months.

“Hey, Ms. Y/L/N,” the desk sergeant mumbled without meeting her eyes. “You’re back.”

She placed the flyers down with quiet urgency. “I printed new ones. Better quality. I added a note about the reward this time, in case someone’s seen him.”

The sergeant sighed, his pen clinking on the desk as he leaned back.

“I told you last time. No new leads.”

“I’m not asking for a miracle,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just—please check if anything came in since last week. A tip. A sighting. A… a body, no, not that, but anything really.”

A uniformed officer behind the counter—young, smug, cruel in that casual way people are when they forget you’re human—snorted. “Lady, you know the guy was a junkie, right? Odds are he got tired of playing house and ran off when the stick turned pink.”

Y/N’s heart splintered. Her hands clenched the flyers. “Don’t—don’t you dare say that about him.”

He shrugged. “C’mon. You don’t have to be a detective to figure it out. He got high and vanished. People like that don’t come back. Especially not to play Daddy.”

“He’s not like that!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

The room went quiet.

A throat cleared gently behind her.

“Y/N?” came the familiar rasp of Officer Cooper, stepping out from a side hallway. Silver-haired and weathered, he’d been on the force longer than most of the others had been alive. He always spoke softly, like he didn’t want to scare away whatever kindness he still believed in.

Y/N blinked back tears and turned.

“Let’s take a walk,” Cooper said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”

--

Outside, the sky was overcast. Cold. Cooper lit a cigarette but didn’t offer her one.

They stood in silence next to the station’s rusted bench. She stared down at the pavement, at her frayed shoelaces, at the grey world around her.

Then she broke.

“I can’t sleep, Mr. Cooper,” she whispered, voice small. “I dream about him every night. I wake up thinking maybe he’s home, maybe I missed a call. But then it’s just me. Just me and this baby. I don’t know what I’m doing—I don’t have money, I don’t have family. He was my family.”

Cooper nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

“I know you’ve been kind,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve listened. But I need more. I need you to put more people on this. I need you to look for him like he’s not just some addict you all gave up on.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve. Her tears soaked through it instantly.

“Please. Just… just try. For me. For him. For our child. Bobby wouldn’t leave me. Not like this. Not without a word. Not him.”

Cooper took a long drag from his cigarette. Then sighed.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She froze.

His eyes softened, like he wished he could lie. Like he hated what he was about to do.

“We finally traced a lead. Someone matching Bob’s description was seen boarding a flight out of the country.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“Where?”

“Malaysia,” he said quietly.

The word hit her like a sledgehammer.

“No,” she whispered. “That’s… no, he wouldn’t… He didn’t have money. He didn’t have a passport.”

“He did,” Cooper said, sadly. “We checked. It was valid. Bought the ticket in cash. No forwarding contact. No signs of foul play.”

She staggered back, her body suddenly too heavy. Her hand flew to her belly as if to anchor herself.

“So… you’re saying he left me.”

“I’m saying,” Cooper murmured, “that we don’t believe he vanished. We believe he made a choice.”

“No,” she choked. “No, he didn’t. He loved me. We were building a life. He called me his miracle. We were deciding on a name. He cried when I told him. He held me all night and said he’d never leave.”

Cooper looked down at his shoes.

“I know, kid.”

Tears streamed down her face now, silent and relentless.

“I waited. Every day, I waited,” she sobbed. “I believed in him. I still do. He’s sick, not a monster. You’re telling me he abandoned his child before the baby was even born?”

Cooper said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Finally, she whispered, “Is he coming back ? Did he buy two tickets? He did, right, to come back to me, to us?”

Cooper crushed the cigarette beneath his boot.

“One way ticket. Maybe it's better if you go home, take a breath, and just... you can call me, ok ? I have a daughter just like you and she's an amzing mother, you will be too. You have to go to work, just rest.”

She just looked at the flyers in her hand. For months he just disappear, all her money spent in paper, organizing searches, paying potential dealers for a tip of his whereabouts.

"So this is it?"

--

2 years ago

The Cluckin’ Bucket wasn’t exactly a place dreams were made of.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a swarm of angry flies, flickering over cracked linoleum tiles and chipped yellow walls. The scent of fried oil hung in the air like a second skin, clinging to every surface. It was 11:43 PM, just seventeen minutes before closing, and the only two souls left inside were Y/N, wiping down tables, and Bob, in the back room, peeling off the heavy, foam-rubber chicken costume that had been slowly cooking him alive for eight hours.

He winced as he pulled the beak off his head, his sweat-damp hair sticking up in odd places. His T-shirt clung to his back, his jeans sagged slightly on his hips, and his bones ached in that weird, chemically induced way that only came from a cocktail of meth and shame.

He hadn’t wanted this job.

He sure as hell hadn’t wanted the chicken suit.

But here he was—twenty-something, barely scraping by, dancing on a street corner in 95-degree heat to try and convince people to buy discount wings.

He tucked the suit away in its plastic bag, sighing, and padded into the dining area, rubbing the back of his neck.

And then he saw her.

Y/N.

The new waitress.

She was crouched in front of the soda machine, elbow-deep in the syrup line, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, earbuds dangling from her neck. She was humming something—Fleetwood Mac, he thought—but he couldn’t be sure.

She wore her name tag crooked on her chest, and there was a smudge of sauce on her cheek.

But to him? She looked like she belonged in a painting.

He froze for a second too long, just staring.

God, she was pretty. And he was in a chicken suit just minutes ago. And probably still smelled like sweat and fryer grease. Cool. Real smooth.

She glanced up—and caught him.

Her eyebrows rose a little. Her mouth quirked.

“Robert, right?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was warm, amused, like she already knew the answer.

His throat caught. “Uh. Yeah. Bob, actually.”

“Bob,” she repeated, like she was trying it on. “Can you help me with something?”

“Sure,” he said too quickly.

She straightened, gesturing toward a box at her feet. “I’m trying to get this up to the top shelf, but it’s heavier than it looks and my arms are, like, noodles right now.”

He nodded and stepped forward, kneeling to lift the box without much effort. He was wiry, but stronger than he looked. She watched him, subtly biting the corner of her lip.

“Thanks,” she said as he set the box down on the shelf. “You’re stronger than you look.”

He gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, well… spinning a giant arrow for eight hours a day builds muscles, I guess.”

She smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short. That costume? Kinda iconic.”

He turned bright red. “Oh, God.”

“What?” she teased. “I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag. “I mean, it takes a certain kind of confidence to dance in a chicken suit and not die of embarrassment.”

He snorted. “More like a lack of options.”

There was a pause—just a second too long.

“Still,” she said, voice softer now, “You’ve got a good smile, Bob.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I said, you’ve got a good smile.”

He swallowed, heart hammering for no reason he could explain. She was looking at him. Not through him. Not with pity. Just… seeing him. And it had been a long time since someone had done that.

They started talking more after that.

Little things. Jokes during their shifts. Late-night scraps of conversation while wiping down counters or restocking sauces. She’d bring him a free soda when she noticed him flagging. He’d sweep her section when her feet were too tired to move. Neither of them said it out loud, but it became something—a rhythm, a comfort.

He never told her about the drugs.

But she saw the shadows under his eyes. The way his hands shook sometimes. The way he chewed his inner cheek when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t ask, and he was grateful.

Until that one night.

They were walking out together. The parking lot was empty, bathed in yellow streetlight. The air was thick with humidity. Bob carried his bag over his shoulder, still fidgeting with the zipper.

Y/N was quiet beside him, arms crossed over her chest.

They reached the edge of the lot. Her car was parked beneath the flickering sign.

He stopped. She didn’t.

Then, she turned back.

“Hey,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He blinked. “Uh. No. Why?”

She smiled—and it knocked the air out of him.

“Just wondering,” she said, stepping a little closer. “Because if you don’t… I was wondering when you were going to ask me out.”

He stared at her, stunned.

“I—I mean—I didn’t think you’d—why would you—” he stammered.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Bob. I like you.”

He swallowed. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Even with the chicken suit.”

And then, because his body moved before his fear could stop him, he smiled—wide and real.

“I… would really like that.”

“Good,” she said, walking backwards toward her car, grinning. “Then don’t keep me waiting.”

He stood in the parking lot long after she drove away, heart pounding, a dumb grin on his face.

For the first time in years, the night didn’t feel so heavy.

--

Central Park in the early evening was dipped in gold.

The last fingers of sunlight threaded through the leaves like warm lace, casting dappled shadows on the grass. It was one of those rare New York days—cool but not cold, the air kissed with early autumn, the sky a watercolor blend of lavender and peach.

Bob stood awkwardly near a bench beneath a sycamore tree, tugging at the hem of his second-best flannel. His fingers twitched in his jacket pocket, where he kept the meth pipe he hadn’t touched in two days.

He was sweating.

Not from the weather.

From her.

Because Y/N was there, spreading out a gingham blanket on the grass near the edge of a pond, her hair tucked behind her ears, a small cooler bag next to her feet.

She looked like someone who belonged in the light.

He still wasn’t convinced he deserved to be sitting beside her in it.

“Okay,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from the blanket. “Don’t laugh. I made too much.”

Bob walked over slowly, hands in his pockets, watching as she pulled out a series of plastic containers and neatly wrapped foil packets. Sandwiches. Potato salad. Tiny cupcakes with blue frosting that had clearly been made with care. Even folded napkins.

“Holy crap,” he said, blinking. “Did you raid a deli or something?”

She grinned. “No, I made it. I… I like cooking.”

“For me?”

She looked at him like it was obvious. “Yeah. Who else would I be trying to impress, Bob?”

He knelt on the blanket, legs crossed, still a little stiff, watching her with barely restrained disbelief. “I just… I’ve never had anyone… you know. Do something like this. For me.”

She shrugged, setting a container between them. “Well, now you have.”

He picked up a sandwich, still stunned. “You made all this… for a guy who dresses like a poultry mascot?”

She chuckled. “I happen to like that guy.”

Bob opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He just smiled—a shy, crooked thing—and took a bite.

Bob sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, chewing slowly, trying not to look too shocked by how good the sandwich in his hand was. “Okay,” he said between bites, “you’re going to have to explain to me how you made this taste like something from an actual restaurant. What’s in this?”

Y/N grinned, tucking a napkin under her leg to keep it from blowing away. “Nothing fancy. Chicken, basil, a little Dijon, homemade aioli—”

“H-homemade? Who even makes aioli? That’s, like, elite-level cooking.”

“I like cooking,” she said simply, with a shrug. “It calms me down. Helps me feel like I’ve got control over something, you know?”

He nodded slowly, finishing the last of the sandwich. “Yeah, I get that. It’s like spinning that dumb arrow—kinda zen, if you ignore the back pain.”

She laughed. “That’s tragic. I cook to relax, and you give yourself arthritis.”

“Hey, I’m not proud.”

She passed him a small container of fruit salad, their knees brushing slightly under the blanket. There was a breeze picking up, threading through the grass, fluttering the corners of the gingham cloth. In the distance, a dog barked, and somewhere near the pond a violinist had started playing faintly.

“You live with roommates? Alone?” Bob asked suddenly, trying to picture what her place might look like. “Your kitchen’s probably better than mine. Mine’s got, like, one working burner and a fridge that sounds like it’s dying.”

She hesitated, then looked down at her hands. “Actually… I live alone now.”

His brows lifted slightly, sensing the shift in her voice.

“I didn’t always,” she continued. “My ex boyfriend and I used to live together, in this little apartment off Bedford. It was cramped, noisy, walls were paper-thin… but it was kind of cozy. It felt like ours.”

Bob stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“He left about nine months ago,” she said. “For someone else. Someone with shinier hair and a ‘real’ job, probably. I don’t know. One day he said he didn’t love me anymore, and that was that.”

Bob’s chest tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She waved a hand, but her smile was tinged with something older than the moment. “It sucked. But if he hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have taken the job at Cluckin’ Bucket. Wouldn’t have ended up on night shifts. Wouldn’t have met you.”

He blinked, thrown. “That’s… wow. You really think that’s a good trade?”

She shrugged again, but this time with a little smile. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Bob looked down at the cupcakes, the homemade food, the folded napkins. All for him.

He cleared his throat. “I just don’t get it. How someone could be with you and let you slip through their fingers. That guy had the f—freaking lottery ticket and he just… walked away?”

She glanced at him, visibly surprised by the fire in his voice.

“I mean it,” Bob said, quieter now. “If it were me… I’d never let you go.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and tender.

She looked at him for a long time, something soft and wounded behind her eyes.

“You’re sweet, Bob,” she said quietly.

“I’m not,” he replied without thinking. “Not really. But I want to be.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else, but instead she reached for another sandwich.

They sat in silence again, this time heavier.

Then Bob spoke, his voice rough.

“I don’t have anyone either,” he said. “No family. No ties. Just a bunch of mistakes and a backpack that smells like old socks.”

She looked at him. “No one at all?”

He shrugged. “Not since my mom passed. My dad was… not really in the picture. I’ve kinda just been floating since then.”

“Me too,” she said. “It’s like… we’re both ghosts in a city full of people who have somewhere to be.”

That hit him harder than he expected.

He nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I always thought,” he murmured, “that maybe I was just built to be alone. Like I was meant to burn out early. Some people are just… too messed up to fit.”

She leaned toward him, brushing a thumb gently against his hand.

“You’re not messed up,” she whispered. “You’re just… lost. And that’s not the same thing.”

His heart nearly stopped.

“You’re the first person who’s ever said that,” he admitted.

“Then everyone else was wrong.”

He didn’t know what came over him then—maybe it was the sunset or the food or the warmth of her fingers against his—but he turned toward her, and for once, he didn’t feel ashamed.

“Can I… see you again?” he asked.

Her eyes crinkled with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

--

present day

The apartment was still.

Still in the way a place only gets after someone is gone—not just physically, but really gone. Like the soul of the place had followed them out the door and taken all the warmth with it.

The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds, casting long stripes across the bed where Y/N lay curled on her side. Their bed. His side still had the indent of his body, even after months. She hadn’t brought herself to sleep on it, like maybe the dip in the mattress could hold his shape long enough for him to come back and fill it.

Her hand cradled the curve of her growing belly. Just past four months. She was showing now. Her body knew, even if the world didn’t care.

Across from her on the nightstand were the pictures—cheap Polaroids and one dog-eared photo booth strip from Coney Island, taped crookedly to the wall. Bob’s stupid half-smile grinned back at her in every frame. The one where he was pretending to flex with a corndog in hand. The one where he looked away, caught off-guard, cheeks red from laughing at something she said.

Her thumb brushed the edge of the picture. Her throat burned.

“God, Bobby…” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

A fresh wave of tears pressed from behind her eyes and spilled freely down her cheek, soaking into the pillow. She clutched the blanket tighter with one hand and her belly with the other.

“You left,” she murmured. “You really left.”

She bit her lip so hard it nearly split, the ache in her chest unbearable.

“I defended you. I told them you’d never run. I called every hospital, every shelter. Put up posters with your face in every goddamn corner of this city. I begged the police to keep looking because I knew something was wrong. I thought maybe you were in trouble, or hurt… or…”

Her voice broke, raw and low.

“Turns out you were just gone. Just—just done.”

She sat up slowly, wiping her face with the sleeve of Bob’s old hoodie—still too big on her, still faintly smelling like him, like cologne and smoke and something warmer.

“You saved up that money. You actually planned this,” she whispered, hollow. “You looked me in the eye… kissed me goodnight, touched our baby, and you already knew you weren’t coming back.”

Her breath hitched as her hand moved over the swell of her belly, as if trying to protect the child from the truth pressing in.

“You knew I was pregnant. And you still left. That’s what makes it worse. Not the addiction. Not the lies. That. You knew, and it didn’t stop you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I gave up everything trying to find you, Bobby,” she said, louder now, choking on the grief. “I drained what little savings I had. Every cent I scraped together went to flyers, gas, private search sites. I even hired some guy off Craigslist who said he could ��track people down for a price.’ That was three hundred dollars I’ll never get back.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears.

“I work double shifts now just to stay afloat. Still serving greasy food to assholes who think I’m invisible—coming home to this empty fucking apartment, sleeping in a bed that feels like a coffin.”

She fell back onto the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths.

“I really thought you were different,” she whispered. “I did. I thought… maybe this time, it wouldn’t end with someone leaving. I really get left for everything else at this point, not good enough, prettier women, drugs. And maybe that’s worse. Because at least he looked me in the eye and said goodbye. Or maybe…did you find a better woman Bobby?”

Her lips trembled as another sob escaped.

“You said you loved me. You said we were in this together. We made something together, Bobby. We made a life. And you just… vanished.”

She reached for the ultrasound photo tucked into the drawer and held it to her chest.

“I swear he moves and grows everytime I cry,” she whispered. “Like he knows I need a distraction.”

She ran her hand down her belly again, slower this time.

“But I won’t let them grow up thinking he or she was a mistake. Or unworth staying for.”

The room felt unbearably quiet now. Still, again. But this time, colder.

She closed her eyes and curled tighter around herself, the photos, the baby. Everything she had left.

“I’ll do this without you,” she said softly. “Even if it breaks me.”

And in the stillness, in the tiny home they had built, she stares at the ceiling. Thinking. Doubting. Is this all that life can be ? How would she be able to take care of a little human? Maybe this baby wasn't meant for her. Maybe it was someone else's place to be their mom.

Maybe that's it.

Then I will wait. Just until the baby comes.

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐟 ꒱ my american lover ( logan sargeant. )

logan sargeant x aussie!reader

in which a series of instagram posts causes the internet to think you're oscar's girlfriend

authors note: motivation these days is like trying to find water in a desert TvT doesn't help that this deleted the first time i tried to post it

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri and 4,028 others

ynusername life lately

view all 302 comments

user HELP THE OSCAR PICTURE?

user this was not on my 2024 bingo card

⤷ user it was not on mine either what 😭😭😭

user since when does yn know about oscar piastri?

⤷ user and since when was he in her likes???

oscarpiastri where did you even get that photo 🥲

⤷ ynusername mumma piastri has a soft spot for me 😊

⤷ oscarpiastri ah

user omg she knows oscar's mom too

user is this a soft launch???

⤷ user using oscar's photos from when he was a kid? i sure hope not 😭

⤷ user okay yeah, that'd be a little bit awkward, but why else would she post a picture of him in her photo dump

user twitter is gonna go crazy

⤷ user i can already see the threads

user does no one know that they're friends?

⤷ user i thought this was common knowledge atp because he has appeared in her previous posts...

⤷ user right, there's photos of them as kids karting together

user ynscar 🙏

⤷ user i found my people

user the ynscar rumors starting up again is wild

⤷ user well they never denied anything

⤷ user ...

⤷ user are you on something?

ynusername

liked by lilymhe and 1,937 others

ynusername what a view (the city, not oscar)

view all 103 comments

user stop, she's so pretty...and he's there

lilymhe we need to hang out and take pictures! the boys will find something to entertain themselves 😘

⤷ ynusername asap! 🙏🏻 they see each other every day, whats another?

⤷ lilymhe exactly! 😊

⤷ alex_albon what am i being signed up for?

user oh my god, lily and yn planning a hangout with their boyfriends? so its confirmed?

⤷ user AND THEY SEE EACH OTHER EVERY DAY??? GOTTA BE!!!

oscarpiastri is this just your new thing to post random photos of me?

⤷ ynusername yeah pretty much

⤷ oscarpiastri great thanks

⤷ ynusername anytime 🙂‍↕️

user of all the photos of oscar she could've chosen, she used this one

⤷ oscarpiastri right

⤷ user OMG OSCAR ILY!!!

user am i the only one who doesn't believe the ynscar rumors?

⤷ user you aren't because it just doesn't make sense

⤷ user right like just because she started putting memes of him in her posts doesn't mean they are outright dating

logansargeant the view looks great!

⤷ ynusername its so gorjos! (you're not talking about oscar, right?)

⤷ logansargeant gorgeous, babe, and no, of course not (yeah, i might be)

⤷ ynusername (oscar isn't the view here!)

⤷ logansargeant (says who) (and why are we talking in parentheses)

⤷ ynusername (i don't know) (why are you talking in parentheses?)

⤷ logansargeant (i don't know, that's why i asked you)

⤷ ynusername (well i don't know either)

⤷ logansargeant (you've said)

⤷ user (what's going on?) (why did he call her babe???)

⤷ user (why are logan and yn talking?) (not on my 2024 bingo card)

⤷ user (well they both know oscar)

⤷ user (but he called her babe??)

user help all the replies to their comments being in parentheses as well 😭😭😭

user am i the only one who prefers yngan to ynscar

⤷ user nope!

⤷ user i love them so much, but it's probably unlikely and we don't see much interaction from them

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri and 3,408 others

ynusername pov you're max verstappen at miami and you look in your mirrors

view all 231 comments

user oh my god

user im speechless

user the soft launch with the meme of oscar was not on my list of things happening this season 😭

bsfusername you know you're never beating the rumors

⤷ ynusername sadly 😓😓😓

⤷ bsfusername okay but when was this tho

⤷ ynusername wdym 😋

⤷ bsfusername don't gaslight me

⤷ ynusername what's gaslighting???

⤷ bsfusername bitch.

⤷ user rumors? such as the ynscar rumors?

user logan in the likes?

⤷ user hes BEEN in the likes for a hot sc, you just couldn't see him lurking

oscarpiastri you're not coming to the next race

⤷ ynusername WHY NOT??? IM YOUR BIGGEST SUPPORT 🙏🏻

⤷ oscarpiastri support your boyfriend

❤️ by author + logansargeant

⤷ ynusername SHHHH!!!

user wait so oscar isn't her boyfriend?

user anyone see logan in the likes???

⤷ user gotta support the homie's girlfriend

⤷ user gotta

⤷ user they aren't dating 😭

user okay, but do we know FOR SURE oscar and yn are dating? they just seem like really close friends...?

⤷ user SOMEONE GETS IT

user real ones know that oscar and yn are childhood friends

ynusername has posted a story!

[caption: guys look at my uber driver 😢]

view all story replies

user PLEASE RESPOND TO THE RUMORS

user 1. you're dating oscar a. true b. false

user he doesn't even have the steering wheel 😭

ynusername 🤫

user oh my god im gonna faint, tell oscar and logan i love them

oscarpiastri you had the wheel

ynusername stupid, american cars amiright 🤣

oscarpiastri sure

ynusername okay no need for the attitude mr. im a formula 1 driver and am too cool for my BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!

oscarpiastri go bother your BOYFRIEND

ynusername okay

ynusername ...

ynusername you're supposed to feel bad

oscarpiastri 😐😑😐

ynusername

liked logansargeant and 7,078 others

ynusername my american boy <3

view all 227 comments

user the random middle of the day hard launch

⤷ user but im not complaining

logansargeant my kangaroo <3

⤷ ynusername EXCUSE ME???

⤷ logansargeant 😊

⤷ ynusername okay american eagle

oscarpiastri finally putting an end to the rumours i see

⤷ ynusername well you weren't going to do it so someone had to

⤷ oscarpiastri i thought it was common knowledge that i had a girlfriend that wasn't you

⤷ ynusername osc...im gonna hold your hand when i tell you this

⤷ oscarpiastri dont touch me

user the sass from oscar 😭😭

⤷ user i know right😭🫣

logansargeant

liked by ynusername and 143,203 others

logansargeant i love my aussie side

view all 1,047 comments

user ON MY CELLULAR DEVICE???

oscarpiastri i thought i was your aussie side mate

⤷ logansargeant oh no, you are dw

⤷ ynusername probably why he put a picture of oscar in the hard launch

⤷ logansargeant you put one in the soft launch

⤷ ynusername fair point

user i was not expecting this (i was indeed expecting it)

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @sapphiccloud @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @namgification @casperlikej @darleneslane @soamericn @decafmickey @tellybearryyyy @geniusalpaca @mel164 @littlegrapejuice @rylieverstappen-sargent @ahnneyong @ln4smiamitrophy @jiggly-puff-12 @jamieebuolos @ireadthensuetheauthors @jaasworld

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[writingwithciara]

the stand in -luke hughes-

summary: y/n needed a date, and quick. with nobody else available, she turned to the only guy she knew was available. her best friends little brother. so what if they never got along? what could possibly go wrong?

word count: 5k

pairing: luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x bestfriend!platonic reader

notes: recently inspired by a book i just finished reading.

you're coming to the wedding, right? i don't think i could handle things without you also can't wait to meet your fiance love you so much <3

y/n stared at her phone as the texts from her cousin kept coming in. she was getting married to the guy she had been in a relationship with since basically kindergarten. marc, short for marcella, & jacob were barely ever apart growing up & it only escalated from there when they gave in to their feelings and started dating in 6th grade.

the longer y/n stared at the screen, the more she regretted ever mentioning she had a fiance. but she knew her family would get suspicious and try to set her up with someone if she showed up single again.

when she informed them she really was getting married, she was not banking on her fiance leaving her.

she whipped out her phone and sent a desperate text to her best friend.

jack i need your help. call me asap

within seconds, her phone was ringing with the signature song jack had assigned himself. when she picked up the phone, she didn't hesitate to start explaining. it was coming out so fast, he had to stop her.

"slow down, y/n. take a breath and then tell me what's got you so worried."

and she listened. she took a deep breath and sighed. "my cousin is getting married in a few weeks and i made the mistake of telling her about my fiance."

"but you don't have one because jerry is a jackass."

"mildly put, but yeah." she ran a hand through her hair. "i want to tell her that we're not together anymore but that would mean some excruciating mental pain at the wedding."

"right. when your entire family tries to set you up with a single guy there."

"see? you understand me, jack." she smiled. "so, i was wondering if-"

"you know i would love to. but unfortunately, i will be busy planning something super spectacular."

"i hate you." but she didn't. not even a little.

"no you don't." y/n could hear the smirk through the phone.

"jack, what am i supposed to do?"

"you could tell marc the truth and hopefully she won't tell the rest of your family."

"be realistic."

"you're right. i knew it as soon as the words left my mouth." jack looked around his apartment. "oh, i got it. hear me out, okay?"

"what's your idea?" she knew she was going to regret asking, due to the tone in his voice.

"luke's free."

"are you kidding? i said be realistic, jack. that is the worst possible idea ever."

"no. the worst possible idea would be telling them the truth, remember?"

"but i don't want to go with luke. he's the exact opposite of jerry."

"hey, i heard that!" she could hear luke's voice somewhere in the background.

"jack hughes, do you have me on speaker?!"

"only for a second. i had to set it on my dresser to grab something. but you're off now." he chuckled. "and luke may be the exact opposite of jerry, but that's a good thing."

"enlighten me."

"well for starters, he's nicer to me than jerry ever was. and two, he would never ever break off your engagement for stupid reasons."

"well we would never be engaged, so there's that."

"look, do you want a solution or not?"

"a helpful one would be great."

"luke is a good guy, whether you choose to believe it or not. and i'm not just saying that because he's my brother." it was jack's turn to sigh. "just please give him a chance. it's only going to be for one night, isn't it?"

"5 actually. gotta fly up a few days before & we'll be staying at my parent's old place." y/n rubbed her head. "i hate that i'm desperate enough to actually consider using luke of all people."

"hey, i heard that too!"

"take me off of speaker, jack."

"okay okay. you're off. for real this time." jack was laughing but y/n didn't find it funny. although she and luke were never shy when it came to their dislike for one another, she didn't like him hearing how she felt. "so, desperation is making you delirious, huh?"

"i suppose so." y/n looked at her tv. "tell luke to meet me here at noon tomorrow. there's some things we need to go over if this is going to work."

"got it."

when they hung up, y/n threw herself down on the couch and groaned. she couldn't believe she was doing this. and with luke of all people.

the next day, y/n sat at her kitchen counter and stared at the clock.

11:43

she was dreading the fact that luke had somehow agreed to do this. it wasn't like him to offer her any kind of help.

11:44

time was ticking by so slowly and part of her hoped that luke decided he wanted to back out. but that hope was shattered when not even a minute later, there was a knock on her door. she opened it to find luke standing there with a forced smile on his face.

"you're early."

"yeah. figured the earlier i got here, the faster we could go over everything and i could leave."

"and here i thought it was because you actually cared." y/n playfully put her hand over her heart, acting as if she was touched by his actions. she was not.

"don't get your hopes up." luke pushed past her and entered her apartment. she turned and followed him as he set his stuff down on the counter she had just vacated. "jack said he would pay me for this."

"i hope you like having one brother because after today, he's dead."

"relax. i was joking. he's not paying me. but he does owe me huuuuge for this."

"okay you don't have to act like putting up with me is that big of a deal."

"oh, but it is." luke avoided eye contact and looked at his phone. for some reason, his words stung her a little. but she had no idea why. "okay so what do we need to go over?"

"well, you already knew jerry-"

"unfortunately."

"so i just need to go over some things i told my cousin about him and we'll need to spend some time perfecting your acting skills."

"did you happen to tell your cousin his name?"

"no. you can still be luke."

"good. because jerry is the one person i hate" luke smiled and finally looked at y/n. "besides you of course."

"lovely. let's get started, shall we."

over the next 4 days, y/n and luke met in public places to test everything she had taught him. it was not easy most of the time so on day 5, she requested that jack come along with them.

that didn't work because he laughed at everything luke did. he knew his brother was way better than jerry was and seeing him try to act like that guy made jack laugh uncontrollably.

when luke was in the bathroom, jack looked at y/n.

"what?"

"i'm realizing now that you are a saint."

"what do you mean?"

"for starters, you put up with jerry for so long and now you're putting up with luke acting like him. and you're spending time with luke without complaining or yelling at him or wanting to rip his head off."

"well, it's not like i had a choice." y/n rolled her eyes and placed her gaze on her best friend. "what's this super spectacular thing you're planning?"

"it's a surprise, sweetheart." jack chuckled. "and you can't give me that look because i'm not caving to it this time."

"you suck, hughes."

"don't doubt it." he smiled. "but you love me anyway."

"always." y/n shook her head and looked toward the bathroom. "does he always take forever or is this new?"

"maybe he ran into a girl on his way and now he's getting her number."

"oh boy. do i feel sorry for the girl who ends up with that kid."

"careful. that's your fiance you're talking about." luke appeared at the table, causing y/n to jump a little. he took his seat next to jack. "what's next on the schedule?"

"nothing. we're actually done for today. you are relieved of your duties, oh kind sir."

"okay cool." he quickly stood back up. "same time tomorrow?"

"yeah. don't be late again."

"you got it, boss." luke said goodbye to jack and y/n before walking out of the building. when he was gone, jack looked at her.

"i just witnessed over an hour of civilized conversation." he chuckled.

"there's a first time for everything. doesn't mean it's going to be an every day thing after this is all said and done."

"fair point." he smiled. "but at least you're getting along for now."

"i suppose that's one way of looking at it."

---------

on the day they had to fly up for the wedding, y/n and luke woke up early. she wanted to have the earliest flight possible so she could spend more time with her family, even though she knew they were going to pester her endlessly about her upcoming 'wedding'.

"got everything, right?" luke asked as he hauled their bags to jack's car. y/n looked through her list and nodded.

"yup. we're good to go." she yawned and climbed into the passenger seat and waited for jack to start the drive to the airport.

after 10 minutes in silence, luke spoke up. "i'm not so sure about this. what if i do something wrong and mess this up for you?"

"we've been practicing for weeks. you're going to do great, luke. i just know it." she turned to look at him with a smile. it calmed him down for a minute but once she started a conversation with jack, his worry kept coming back. he really didn't want to let her down.

jack parked where he needed to and luke grabbed the bags.

"i'm going to miss you, jack."

"it's only a week. that'll fly by."

"but a week with luke? that's gonna be tough."

"hey. i heard that." luke chuckled while closing the car door. he waited patiently for their talk to end.

"it's going to be fine. you've been working with him for weeks so i figure there's not too much hatred flowing through your veins right now. plus, you'll be surrounded by your own family so that will take some of the pressure off at least."

"yeah. you're right." y/n smiled. "still going to miss you though."

"obviously." he squeezed her hand and smiled. "i'll be here to pick you up in a week."

"okay. i'll see you then." y/n got out of the car and went to grab her bag. luke gently pushed her hand away and headed inside. "luke i'm capable of carrying my own bag, you know."

"i know. but i want to do something nice for once. i know you're stressed about something happening."

"does it look like i'm stressed?"

"no. but you're great at acting. you hide it well. and i know you well enough to know when you're stressing about something."

"okay." she walked beside him and smiled. "thanks."

"you don't have to thank me for simply carrying your bag, you know."

"i know i don't have to but it's what i do when someone does something nice and unexpected. like this just seems so out of character for you."

"i'm trying to get into my role as your loving fiance." he chuckled.

once they went through all the necessary checkpoints and made it to their gate, y/n was finally able to breath.

"i just realized that we spent the last few weeks making sure you were the perfect 'jerry' & i didn't get to know a whole lot about you."

"i'm sure jack has told you plenty. plus you know me. i'm not much of a sharer."

"fair enough, i suppose." she looked out the window at the planes. "are you one of those people who sleeps on a plane or one that can never fully rest?"

"when travelling with the team, i can sleep perfectly fine. but other than that, i'm a wide-awake traveler."

"yeah me too. at least i won't be alone this time."

"we can use that time to talk to each other and not focus on your family. don't need you freaking out on the plane."

"yeah. okay. yeah. thank you."

"no problem."

they boarded the flight 10 minutes later and spent the entire time just talking and bonding as if they were actually good friends. it was unreal for both of them.

the minute they pulled up to y/n's old house, things felt off. the worry was back for both of them and before they walked in, luke reached down and held onto her hand. she gave him a look before he just shrugged.

"we're engaged, remember?"

"oh. right. i forgot for a second."

"it's going to be fine, y/n."

"i'm sure it will be." she looked at him and smiled a little. she followed luke slowly as he squeezed her hand for reassurance. they walked into the house and her parents came flying around the corner.

"oh it's so good to see you, y/n." her mom pulled her into a hug while her dad shook luke's hand. "oh and you must be the fiance."

"it's nice to meet you ma'am. i'm luke." he held his hand out but her mom pulled him into a hug.

"it's nice to finally meet you, luke." she pulled back and smiled. "oh marc is going to be so happy when she sees you guys tomorrow. she's been talking nonstop about the wedding so seeing her favorite cousin will be like a breath of fresh air."

"i can't wait to see her, mom." y/n smiled and before she could even try, luke was grabbing the bags and following y/n's dad up the stairs to their room. "i'm gonna go make sure dad doesn't scare luke too much."

she hurried up the stairs and went to the room. luke was standing at the window of her childhood bedroom and her dad was nowhere in sight.

"i like your parents. they're very kind."

"i like your parents too. they're a lot like mine in so many ways."

"i totally understand that." he smiled and turned around. "are we capable of sharing this bed?"

"we can try. i'm sorry in advance."

"no, no. it's alright. i should be the one saying sorry. we've known each other how long & i've never really been all that kind to you."

"i haven't been kind to you either, luke. just used to putting up with you for jack's sake."

"thanks." he chuckled. "but we can manage for 5 days, right?"

"well, you did tell me that i'm good at acting so i'm definitely capable of pulling this off." she smiled. "and you're really good too. we have nothing to be worried about."

"absolutely nothing." luke smiled and walked towards the door. "wait, what if nobody believes we're really a thing and they make us prove it with, like, a kiss or something?"

"i'm sure that won't happen. they're never weird like that."

"let's hope we can make it the entire trip without having to kiss. i couldn't imagine kissing you."

"hey, i'm a fantastic kisser. thank you very much."

"i'm sure you are but i just don't have the desire to find out." he smiled.

"okay, fair enough." y/n smiled at him and set her bag on the side of the bed before taking a seat and looking at luke. "marc is going to be obsessed with you."

"why do you say that?"

"she loves guys with curly hair. you should see the guy she's going to marry."

"speaking of them, how long have they been together?"

"they met in kindergarten. i witnessed the moment they met. it was adorable. they were inseparable for years but they didn't admit their feelings until 6th grade." y/n smiled while recalling the moment marcella and jacob knew they were going to be together forever. "they've been together ever since."

"really? that's honestly a sweet story." luke smiled. "so they've really never spent any significant time apart?"

"nope. the longest they were separated was the summer before our freshman year of high school when our family went on a cruise. my parents invited jacob to come along with us but his family went to visit his dying grandfather so he chose them."

"wow. 2 months." luke chuckled. "i can't even imagine being dependent on someone as much as they are on each other."

"me either, honestly. jerry was the first guy i ever had a solid connection like that with. and he'll likely be my last."

"unless you and jack follow through with your pact, right?"

"right? well, actually, even if we follow through with it, doesn't mean i'll have the same feelings for him that marc has for jacob."

"right. but at least you'll know jack would never leave you like jerry did."

"okay. that's true." y/n glanced at the picture on her desk. she stood up and walked over to it. "thank you for doing this, luke. i really appreciate it."

"of course." he stood behind her and smiled. "just remember this when i ask for a favor."

"noted." y/n set the picture down and turned to face him. she was about to comment on the close proximity but the doorbell rang. "are you ready to meet the happy couple?"

"yes." he walked to the door and waited. "lead the way."

it should've surprised y/n when, within 2 minutes, jacob and marcella were already calling luke one of their 'best friends'. but it didn't surprise her one bit.

despite her own resentment towards the youngest hughes brother, she couldn't deny that he was actually a likeable person to everyone else.

when they were alone again, y/n leaned against the wall and watched the smile on luke's face. he looked up at her and the smile fell, but only briefly.

"i love your family. hard to believe you're related to any of them."

"funny, luke. i say the same about you and your family. ellen, jim, jack and quinn are absolute saints. and then there's you."

"you sound insane." luke chuckled.

"get used to it. i'm going to be apart of your family in the future."

"you remember we're not actually engaged, don't you?"

"of course i remember it's fake. it's the only way i can tolerate you this long." y/n shook her head. "i was talking about my marriage to your brother."

"quinn?" luke raised his eyebrow. "wasn't aware you had a thing for him."

"wasn't it you who just brought up my pact with jack earlier? how did you forget about that?"

"relax. i was messing with you." luke smiled. "you and jack are rock solid. after this wedding, there will be nothing standing in your way of happily ever after."

something didn't feel right with the way the words came out of his mouth. they tasted funny and he didn't know why.

on the day of the wedding, y/n was in the room with marcella as she was finishing getting ready. marc turned to smile at y/n.

"thank you so much for being here. and for bringing luke. i love seeing you happy." marcella smiled widely. "and it's been a long time since you've been happy."

"yeah. luke's really, really great. i'm very lucky" y/n forced a smile. she hated lying to her family but it was better than telling them the truth. "i'm not as lucky as you, of course."

"jacob is perfect in every possible way. i love him so much."

"i know. i can't believe you guys have known each other your whole lives basically. it still doesn't feel real."

"the first day of kindergarten was the best day of my life." marcella looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. "you're going to make a really beautiful bride, y/n. and i can't wait to see you walk down the aisle in your wedding dress."

"you're gonna have to wait a while. we haven't even picked a date yet." y/n sighed. "plus there's so much that goes into planning a wedding." she gestured around them but smiled as she did so.

"i don't think luke would care about a huge ceremony. i think he would be happy doing it in front of just a priest. or even at the courthouse. he loves you and he can't wait to marry you."

"and how do you know this?"

"because he's my new bestie. i know all his secrets."

y/n froze. did luke tell marcella that he wasn't really her fiance? he couldn't have. right?

"plus, he told me."

"what?"

"he told me he loved you and couldn't wait to marry you."

"oh." y/n let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "i love him too."

and she found that wasn't really a lie. over the course of their visit to her old home, y/n began to warm-up to luke. he no longer got on her nerves like he did before. she loved him, sure. but it was more like she loved him like a brother.

and for some reason, even that felt weird to say or think about.

"you ready to go out there and marry the love of your life?" y/n asked while holding out her hand to marcella.

"always." she took y/n's hand and walked to where her father was waiting.

"i'll see you in there." y/n kissed her cousin's cheek and walked in with one of the groomsmen.

the second y/n walked in, luke couldn't take his eyes off of her. he had seen her dressed up before, as she had come to many team events as jack or jesper's date, but he couldn't help the way he was staring. the dress fit her so perfectly and her hair was done up perfectly as well. she was the most gorgeous person in the room and as far as everyone knew, she was his.

but reality sank in and luke knew she wasn't really his. it was clear to him that her heart belonged to jack. there was no way he could stop it. they were just meant to be. plain and simple.

y/n stood in her place at the end of the aisle and as marcella walked towards jacob, y/n' looked around the room. all eyes were on marcella, except for luke's. he was staring right at her. y/n's cheeks felt like they were suddenly on fire as she looked away from him. this was just an act.

to y/n, it felt like the ceremony took forever. she kept glancing at luke to find him already looking her way. and she couldn't deny that he looked good in his suit and tie ensemble.

when the reception began, y/n's gaze immediately went to luke. it was starting to become a habit she didn't want.

he smirked from his seat between her parents and set his phone in his pocket. y/n went over to him and smiled.

"wanna dance?"

"with you? always." luke stood up and took her hand. she tried not to stay on the words he spoke, knowing it was only because her parents were right there. but as they danced, something felt completely right.

they were getting along silently and it was nice for a change.

their moment was interrupted when luke's phone vibrated in his pocket. he pulled it out and frowned.

"it's jack. he says he's been trying to call you for an hour but you haven't been answering."

"i have my phone on the 'do not disturb' function. i didn't want it to go of during the ceremony."

"you should call him back." luke took a step back from her and sighed. "i'm sure it's important."

"luke-"

"it's okay. i'll just go talk to marc and jacob." he nodded towards the married couple and headed in their direction. y/n sighed and picked her phone up off the table. she quickly dialed jack's number and waited for him to pick up.

"about time. i've been trying to reach you for an hour. i was beginning to think you and luke killed each other" he sighed. "speaking of which, how are things going?"

"that's why you've been trying to reach me?" y/n let out a frustrated sigh. "things between us were good. we even danced until we got interrupted."

"i'm sorry about that. i didn't know."

"it's alright, jack." she glanced over at luke. "is that the only reason you needed me?"

"yes. wait, no. i wanted to tell you that you look really pretty in your dress."

"my dress? wait, can you see me?"

"no. luke took a picture and sent it to me, along with a text that read 'you made a mistake not coming with her to this thing. by far the most beautiful person in the room'. i wanted to let you know."

"oh." was all y/n could manage to say. she looked back over to where luke was last seen and smiled when she caught him staring again. "i'm gonna let you go, jack. there's something i need to do."

"good luck." jack chuckled before hanging up.

when she was free from the conversation, she put her phone back on the table, told her parents to keep an eye on it, then headed over to luke.

"what did he want to talk to you about? did he finally tell you how in love he was?"

"no. that would be ridiculous." she looked at him and grabbed his hand. "i need to talk to him for a minute. you guys mind?" she asked marc and jacob, who seemed to be in their own world. she dragged luke to a quiet hallway.

"what's going on? what did he say to you?"

"you texted him earlier."

"i did."

"what did you say?"

"nothing bad, if that's what you're asking."

"show me." she looked into his eyes. "please?"

"why is it so important?"

"jack said i looked really pretty in my dress."

for the first time all week, luke's gaze was anywhere but y/n. "okay."

"how does he know?"

"i don't know. kid's got a thing for you and thinks you're always pretty so he probably just assumed."

"luke, please." y/n rolled her eyes. "jack told me you sent him a picture of me in the dress. he mentioned there was a text included."

"what about it?"

"you called me the most beautiful person in the room. which i can't believe."

"fine. here's my phone." he swiped the screen open and handed it to her. "you wanted proof? here it is."

y/n read the text exchange jack told her about. seeing luke compliment her made her melt. it was the nicest thing he had ever said about her. she handed the phone back to him and smiled.

"luke, this is incredibly sweet. but you're very wrong."

"what do you mean?"

"at a wedding, the bride is always the most beautiful person in the room. none of the guests can ever eclipse that."

"of course marc is beautiful. but i can't help it if i think you're more beautiful." he ran his hands through his hair.

"i appreciate the compliment, luke. i really do. but there are rules for a wedding."

"i'm aware now. thank you." luke looked at her with his signature crooked smirk. "i'm sorry for the past, by the way. maybe jack was onto something when he made a pact with you."

"can we stop talking about your brother, who most definitely doesn't have a thing for me?"

"oh, he most certainly does. how could you not see it?"

"i don't know. too focused on his brother, i suppose. think quinn and i have a shot?" she glanced up at luke and giggled when his smile dropped.

"i just complimented you for the very first time and you want to talk about being interested in quinn? unbelievable. when will it be my turn?"

y/n didn't answer with her words. instead, she pulled him close and kissed him. it started as a way to shut him up but when she went to pull away, luke's hands found her waist and he tugged her closer, deepening the kiss in the process.

"it's always going to be your turn, luke." y/n grinned when they finally pulled apart.

"jack's going to hate me." he chuckled before resting his forehead against hers. his eyes were still closed but the goofy smile stayed on his face. "but it was definitely worth it."

"hmm, was it?" y/n leaned up to peck his lips.

"oh. for sure." luke held her tight against his chest. "i can't believe i was stupid and rude to you. when i could've been enjoying that kiss for years."

"the past doesn't matter anymore, luke. we've got a whole lifetime to makeup for that."

"damn right we do."

luke smirked and pulled her in for another kiss. he still couldn't believe it was happening. but as y/n kissed him back, he could get used to making up for the past.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Fourteen

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, jealous lando, protective grid, sexual content

Notes — Welcome to the 2021 Formula One season! (Testing, but still... it counts). Also... hehehehehehehe double update <3

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2021

WhatsApp Groupchat — 2021 F1 Grid

Lewis H. A warm welcome to our 2021 rookies! Mick, and Yuki :)

Lando N. Yeah, welcome or whatever More importantly, does anyone know if I can call up the Apple store in Woking and get them to deliver to me? Even though it’s closed rn

Lewis H. What happened? Did her iPad break?

Lando N. Yeah mate, completely toast.

Max V. Shit. I can have one express delivered to your flat, Lando. It is, of course, a work expense.

Yuki T. Uh hey I guess! I thought this was a work only chat? Did I get the wrong briefing?

George R. It usually is, but as admin I allow Amelia-based chat @Yuki

Mick S. Hey! Great to be here. Um, just curious though. Who is Amelia?

Max V. My lead technical engineer.

Lando N. My girlfriend.

Lewis H. Zak Brown’s daughter.

Fernando A. Her iPad is broken? I will bring her one now. Lando, send me your home address.

Mick S. Ohhh, I actually know Amelia Brown!

Lando N. ?????????? @Mick

Fernando A. Lando you have not sent me your address.

Max V. @Fernando I have already purchased the iPad.

Mick S. @Lando we met years ago, mate. She used to ski with her family where mine did in the winter.

Lando N. You heard the part where she’s my girlfriend, yeah @Mick?

Mick S. Yes…

Lando N. Good.

Fernando A. @Max She will need it delivered to her soon.

Charles L. It finally broke? Wow. Lasted far longer than I believed it would.

Lando N. @Charles Not a good time for jokes, mate. She’s devastated

Daniel R. Should I start carrying a spare iPad to races with me just in case? LOL.

Lando N. Wait that’s a good idea Somebody write that down Max write that down

Max V. I purchased three. I will carry the spares

Fernando A. Vamos, Max!

Pierre G. I bet the rookies are so confused lmao. Welcome to the grid group chat. We discuss penalties, race conditions, plane shares, and Amelia Brown.

Carlos S. @Lando How is she? Did she freak out?

Lando N. She’s good now. All chill.

Lewis H. Tell her that I just bought her a new bunny sticker book. I’ll give it to her at testing.

Lance S. If I buy her the entire Apple company, do you think she will come and fix the Aston Martin car?

Max V. NO.

Yuki T. This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen in any grid group chat, and the f2 chat used to get weird lol

George R. Welcome to the grid, Yuki. Keep your head on straight, and if you ever find a lost iPad with a bunny sticker on it anywhere in the paddock, make sure it gets back to Amelia asap

Lando N. Thats important for all of the rookies to know @Mick @Yuki 

Mick S. Sure I’ll keep an eye out!

Lando N. Actually I change my mind Mick if you see an iPad just leave it yeah :) 

Mick S. ????

Pierre G. This is going to be a great year. 

Checo P. All of the other drivers have this chat muted, yes?

Kimi R. Yes. 

— 

Amelia was crouched down by Max's car, her hand resting on the tire as she scanned through the data on her iPad. The numbers on the screen felt too slow, almost static, compared to the racing thoughts racing through her head.

Beside her, Jos loomed over her, a red-ink pen poised above her little black notebook. He was taking notes for her. Her mind was moving faster than her hands could keep up, and sometimes, just sometimes, she needed someone like him, methodical, steady, and patient, to help her process it all.

Her fingers flicked over the screen, swiping through the data from Max's morning run, when she paused, eyes flicking to Jos. “You see what I see?” she asked, her voice low, as if speaking any louder might break the delicate focus she’d managed to carve out for herself.

Jos nodded, his eyes scanning the information on the screen before looking back down at the scribbles he’d started in her notebook. “More rear stability in the high-speed corners. We’ll need to adjust the dampers again,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.

Amelia’s eyes tightened slightly as she thought. “We might need to soften the rear more. The front’s too reactive. Max is going to be fighting it in corners three and four, especially.” She tapped the screen lightly, zooming in on the section of the track map. “The car’s settling into a snap too fast, can’t keep up with the rear load in the high-speed sections.”

Jos made a mark in her notebook. “Front end’s still too eager, then?” He sighed. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Amelia made a face. “We soften that just a little bit more. Max needs more confidence in the corners. Less initial bite, more consistency. Maybe tweak the ride height slightly too.” Her words were coming faster now as the solution to their issues fell into place in her brain. 

As the day wore on, Max’s car was fine-tuned with the adjustments, and Amelia watched on with satisfaction as everything came together in perfect harmony. 

They had a plan. The tweaks would work. Max would be happy with the handling.

She turned to Jos when the mechanics started to wheel Max’s car back into the garage for the final time, day one of testing officially over, giving him a small but appreciative smile.

He pulled her notebook out of the pocket of his jeans and handed it over. “I hope you can understand my handwriting.” 

— 

Amelia sat opposite Max at one of the small team tables in the Red Bull hospitality unit. Most of the staff had already filtered out for the night, their voices fading down the hallway as engineers, PR reps, and mechanics headed for shuttles and taxis. But the two of them lingered — Amelia, still editing Jos’ scribbled notes from earlier in the day, and Max, who had quietly gotten into the habit of not leaving until she did.

It was almost sweet. He dropped her off to Lando at her hotel room at the end of every day like she was a preschooler getting passed between divorced parents. She hadn’t said anything about it, partly because it was practical, and partly because she didn’t mind it. It was nice not to have to worry about being alone.

Across from her, Max was hunched low in his chair, arms folded tight across his chest, mouth set in a hard line. His gaze flicked from the tabletop to her notebook and back again, a rhythm she’d seen a hundred times before. It meant he was thinking. Hard. Or more likely, overthinking.

She didn’t bother looking up. “Just say it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been fidgeting with your straw for six minutes. It’s starting to irritate me.”

Max exhaled through his nose, leaning back into the bench with a groan. “You are very annoying.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, finally meeting his eyes. “Max, tell me.”

He hesitated, then shifted forward, resting his elbows on the table. There was a pause, a rare, tentative kind, and then, quieter than usual, he said, “I’m nervous.”

That made her put the pen down.

“For the season?” she asked, although she already suspected the answer.

Max nodded. “Everyone keeps saying 2021 is my year. Like it’s inevitable. Like this is it. And I want it — Fuck, I want it so bad. I’ve worked for it my whole life. But now that it’s here, I don’t know…” He rubbed a hand down his face. “What if it doesn’t happen?”

“It might not,” Amelia said plainly.

Max looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped short, blinking at her. “Comforting.”

“You’re not asking for comfort,” she said. “You’re asking if you’re good enough. And yes, you are. But this sport doesn’t always care about that.”

He let that sit for a moment. Nodded.

Then, quieter still, “There’s something else.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow.

“I met someone. Over the break.”

She made a face. “Someone?”

He groaned. “Don’t do the eyebrow thing.”

She relaxed her face. “Who did you meet?”

Max scratched at the edge of the table. “I met her in Monaco. She’s nice. A lawyer . She thinks I’m just… Max. I didn’t tell her about the racing. About… everything. She doesn’t follow F1.”

Amelia leaned forward slightly. “So she doesn’t know who you are.”

He shrugged helplessly. “She knows who I am. Just not… what I do.”

Amelia tilted her head. “And you like that?”

“I think so,” he said. “It’s peaceful. She talks to me like a normal person. No hero-worship, no pressure. Just… calm.”

“You’re lying to her, essentially,” she said bluntly. “Not a good foundation for a relationship.”

He shot her a withering look. “Jesus. You’re worse than my dad.”

“I take that as a compliment. We have the same goal.”

“I know.”

She looked down at her notebook, flipping a page and skimming it for a second. “You think you can manage both? A relationship and a championship battle?”

He hesitated. “Is that selfish?”

“No,” she said, then looked back at him. “But it might be a bit stupid.”

Max chuckled dryly. “Thanks.”

“I’m not saying you can’t have both,” Amelia added. “I’m just saying that it probably won’t work.” 

He frowned, nodded slowly, then said, “But you’re managing your relationship and my championship.”

“I’m not the one driving the car, Max.” She argued. 

“Still,” he muttered. “You’re making it work. I could make it work.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Is she nice?”

Max nodded, “I almost ran her over.”

She blinked at him. “Oh. That’s… romantic?” She tried. 

He laughed shortly. “She was in a rush, didn’t look properly. I apologised and gave her a ride to work. She— she, uh, thinks that I’m just some wealthy businessman’s son, or something.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, anxiety curling in the pit of her stomach. “You should stop lying to her. I would… I would not like it if I was in that situation and I found out that I was being lied to.” 

Max sighed. Nodded. 

Then he stood, grabbed both their jackets, and slung hers over the back of her chair. “Come on. Let’s get you to your boyfriend before he starts texting me again asking where you are.”

She gave him a flat look. “He has a GPS tracker on my phone.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “Of course he does. Typical Norris.”

She shrugged. “It’s sweet. Sometimes I get lost and he has to come and find me.” 

Max laughed, and for the first time all day, some of the tightness left his posture. “Yeah,” he said, holding the door open for her. “Probably good that he has it, then.” 

— 

The lights of Manama twinkled in the distance, warm and hazy against the desert night. From the balcony of their hotel suite, the city looked like it belonged to another world; quiet and golden and slow in a way the paddock never was. The hum of the air conditioning inside was replaced by the occasional distant honk of a car, or the hush of wind weaving through the palm trees below.

Amelia was seated cross-legged on one of the outdoor chairs, wrapped in a white robe, her hair still damp from her shower. Lando, in a t-shirt and joggers, was fiddling with a tiny bottle opener, attempting to open a bottle of some obscure sparkling drink he’d insisted was “romantic, okay baby? Trust me.”

Their room service tray sat between them on the small table. Grilled flatbreads, mezze, roasted lamb. Lando had ordered for them and he’d gotten everything right.

“I don’t know how you always remember this stuff,” she said, dipping a piece of bread into a tangy yogurt sauce.

Lando grinned, finally getting the bottle open with a victorious pop. “Because I listen when you talk. I know the face you make when you think something tastes bad or has a yucky texture. I have eyes. Shocking, I know.”

Amelia gave him a pointed look. “Last week, you kissed my eyeball because you were being lazy and tried to kiss me with your eyes closed.”

“Shut up.” He huffed. 

She laughed quietly, curling into him, giving him a bit of the blanket. “I think Max might be in love,” she said suddenly.

Lando blinked. “Max? Verstappen?”

“Mm,” she nodded, chewing. “He told me today that he met someone over the winter. She doesn’t know who he is. Like, really doesn’t know. Thinks he’s just some rich guy named Max.”

Lando made a face. “That… feels impossible.”

“She’s apparently very disconnected. Doesn’t follow the sport. Max likes it.”

Lando nodded slowly. “Weird. But kind of sweet, I guess.”

She frowned at him. “I told him he shouldn’t be dating during a title fight.”

“Very romantic of you.” Lando teased. 

She shrugged. “I never said I was romantic.”

“No,” he said. “But you are.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree. Instead, she reached for his hand where it rested on the table, her fingers brushing over his lightly. “I hope you do very well this year, Lan.” She told him, earnest and hopeful. “You deserve it.” 

Lando turned his hand over to lace their fingers together. “So do you. Deserve to do well, I mean. You’ve worked so hard this past year. You deserve to see it pay off.”

Amelia didn’t say anything right away. She just leaned over and kissed him; soft, sweet, clinging. It wasn’t meant to lead anywhere at first, just a thank you. But she didn’t pull away. And he didn’t let her go.

She ended up in his lap, her legs curled against his chest, her robe brushing his knees. His hands slid instinctively around her back, fingers splaying wide against the thin fabric, grounding her. Grounding himself.

They stayed like that for a long time. The balcony lights dimmed behind them. The city hummed faintly in the distance, the last remnants of dinner cooling on the table, the silence between them easy.

Then, gently, she climbed off of him and stood. Her bare feet whispered against the tile as she stepped forward, and she stopped just in front of where he sat, between his knees. Her eyes searched his face for a beat, then she reached for the hem of his t-shirt.

“Come inside with me?”

Lando’s breath caught slightly. He looked up at her, her expression steady, soft, open, and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Inside, the hotel room was cast in warm light, golden from a low bedside lamp. The curtains were drawn against the city, muffling the world outside. The bed was turned down, sheets crisp, pillows fluffed. A quiet kind of invitation.

She tugged him by the hand toward the bed, and he followed without a word, heart thudding in his chest.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t awkward.

There was a kind of reverence to the way they undressed, slow, curious. Amelia’s robe slipped from her shoulders, caught briefly on her elbows before pooling at her feet. Lando’s hands hovered just for a second before brushing up her arms, like he was making sure she wouldn’t vanish if he touched her too quickly.

Their kisses deepened, still hesitant but filled with intent, with the weight of everything they’d been building toward for over a year. Every laugh, every shared moment of delicate intimacy, every time they’d caught each other’s eyes across a garage or a hotel lobby, it all settled into the space between them.

Lando’s mouth trailed across her skin with an almost startled sort of wonder, like he was learning a language he’d been waiting to speak. Her fingers threaded through his curls, tugging gently when his lips brushed the hollow of her throat. They moved together with quiet urgency, limbs tangled, breath catching against skin.

At one point, Lando paused, hovering just above her, his eyes sweeping across her face, flushed, focused, real.

“You’re so... fuck,” he whispered, barely audible.

Amelia blinked, lips curling faintly. “Not sure that’s a compliment.”

He kissed the curve of her shoulder, then her collarbone. “It is,” he murmured. “It really is.”

And when they finally settled under the covers, tangled together with her head tucked beneath his chin, Lando let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

She didn’t say much, but her fingers curled into his shirt like she wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon, and that was enough. 

— 

The sunlight was already creeping through the sliver of the curtains when Lando stirred, warmth pooling low in his stomach before he was even fully awake. For a moment, he didn’t move, just blinked up at the ceiling, trying to remember if he’d dreamt the night before, or if it had really happened.

Then she shifted against him.

Amelia was tucked beneath his arm, hair a little wild against his chest, one bare leg tangled over his. Her cheek was pressed just below his collarbone, lips slightly parted, her breath steady and warm against his skin.

Definitely not a dream.

He smiled, slow, stupid, unbelievably content.

She felt it too, maybe, his laugh or the way his fingers brushed along her back, because she mumbled something that sounded vaguely like a complaint and burrowed closer, clearly not ready to be awake yet.

Lando tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Morning, baby.”

She made a noise that was more sigh than word. “Mm. No.”

“No what?”

“No talking,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “Too early.”

He laughed quietly, the sound muffled by her hair. “It’s almost seven.”

“Too early for you to be this cheerful.” She grumbled.

Lando shifted just enough to look down at her, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. “I’m not cheerful.”

“You’re smiling.”

He smiled wider. “Can you blame me?”

She cracked an eye open, blinking up at him. Her face was still soft from sleep, a little puffy and makeup-free, but to him, she looked... ridiculously beautiful.

“What?” she asked, because he was staring.

“Nothing,” he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “I just really like waking up next to you.”

Her expression shifted slightly. And then, a second later, she exhaled and said quietly, “I like it, too.”

Lando kissed her, just a little one, lazy and warm.

They lay tangled in the sheets, the morning light spilling gently across the room. For a while, neither of them moved, perfectly content to exist in the quiet, wrapped up in warmth and each other.

Eventually, Amelia stirred, shifting just enough to reach over to the nightstand. She blinked blearily at her phone and then sighed and glanced across the room.

“Shit,” she muttered. “I forgot to charge my iPad.”

Lando, still half-asleep, pressed a slow kiss to her bare shoulder. “I plugged it in when I got up in the middle of the night to go for a piss.”

She turned to look at him, her expression soft, a little surprised. Her voice came quiet. “You did?”

He nodded, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Didn’t want you waking up to it dead.”

A pause. Then she gave him the smallest pout, sleepy and affectionate and so purely her. “I love you.”

He broke into a grin, one of those quiet, full-body smiles that lived in his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, brushing her hair back. “I love you too.”

—

The McLaren motorhome was buzzing with early morning energy, the consistent hum of coffee machines working overtime. Amelia slipped through the front doors with her badge swinging around her neck, hair still damp from a rushed shower, and Lando trailing behind her, half-yawning into a croissant.

Zak spotted them first, already seated at one of the corner tables with Daniel, who was halfway through a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and talking animatedly about something.

“There’s my girl,” Zak called, waving them over.

Amelia dropped into the seat beside her dad with a tired sigh. “Morning, dad.” She kissed his cheek. 

“You sound tired,” he frowned at her, sipping his coffee.

Lando slid into the chair beside her, nudging her with his knee under the table. She handed him a napkin in response, gesturing for him to wipe the crumbs away from his face, and he smiled. 

Daniel looked between them, eyebrows raised. “You must be Amelia. I’m Daniel. Can’t actually believe we’ve not met properly before now.” 

“I know.” Amelia agreed, already reaching across the table for a muffin.

Daniel leaned in a little, grinning. “Lando talks about you all the damn time. In debriefs, pre-race meetings, on his radio—”

“Please stop talking,” Lando glared at his new teammate, clearly embarrassed.

“She’s worth talking about,” Zak laughed, patting Amelia on the shoulder with a fond smile.

Daniel smirked at Lando, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. Lando just narrowed his eyes at him, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Amelia took another bite of her muffin, savouring her food. But before she could finish, her phone buzzed violently against the table. It was from Max.

iMessage — 7:33am

Max Verstappen Are you here, sister? I want to talk about my steering set-up

Amelia On my way to you now.

She shoved the rest of her muffin into her mouth and stood up in one swift motion. “Okay. I gotta go.”

Lando looked up, surprised. “Already?”

Amelia kissed him quickly on the cheek, her lips lingering for just a second longer than expected. She gave her dad a quick shoulder squeeze before smiling at Daniel, her usual bluntness softened by a bit of shyness she wasn’t used to showing in front of him. “Max wants my advice.”

Zak called after her with a grin. “Tell Jos I want my daughter back for lunch.”

“No promises,” she replied with a glance over her shoulder, already speed-walking toward the exit. Her hair bounced with each step, and her phone was pressed to her ear before she even made it out of the motorhome.

Daniel leaned toward Lando as she disappeared down the hallway. “You’re screwed, brother.”

Lando shot him a look, kicking him under the table. “Shut up.”

— 

WhatsApp Groupchat — 2021 F1 Grid

Yuki T. I have Amelia’s iPad in AlphaTauri garage

Lewis H. Yeah, this has to be a new record.

Lando N. Lol she’s just been rly busy. Probably hasn’t noticed she hasn’t got it yet

Max V. She just noticed and started freaking out. @Yuki I’m on my way to get it.

Lando N. She okay @Max?

Max V. Yes mate, no need to worry.

Mick S. @Max Can I pop by your garage and say hi to her? It’s been years!

Lando N. @Max Say no. Max, say no. Max, say no.

Max V. @Mick No, she is too busy for friends.

Lando N. LMAO, REKT @Mick.

Mick S. Bro????? I really don’t want to steal your girlfriend 😭

Fernando A. You do not believe my Amelia is good enough for you, Schumacher?

Max V. What the fuck Mick

Charles L. Uh oh 😬😬

Pierre G. Bro that was NOT the right thing to say 😭

Max V. @Mick She wouldn’t even look your way. 

Lando N. Wild angle, mate @Mick

George R. We are witnessing a man dig his own grave live in chat

Daniel R. *shovels faster* Keep going, Mick. Say you think she’s boring next.

Sebastian V. This feels like bullying.

Yuki T. I think it is  

Carlos S. @Mick Just lie down. Accept it. The storm will pass.

Mick S. I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT 😭😭😭 I literally just meant she’s your girlfriend and I respect that! @Lando

Lando N. Sure you did. 

Fernando A. In my country we have a saying — "Schumacher has placed his own foot in his own mouth."

Lewis H. Pick your words better next time yeah? @Mick

Lance S. This is why rookies don’t get access to Amelia.

Esteban O. Wait does that mean I have access to Amelia?

Max V. No.

Fernando A. Absolutely not.

Lando N. You do not.

Valtteri B. I do not speak much in this chat but I just want to say: Mick, this is very funny.

Antonio G. +1

Nicholas L. same 😭

Sebastian V. Let it be a lesson to all of us. Never try to be polite in here. It will be weaponised.

Charles L. I miss when this chat was about tyre pressures and strategy.

George R. That’s adorable. It’s never been that.

NEXT CHAPTER

[icequeenbae]

Initiation (m) | HHJ, YJI

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader x Jeongin

Werewolf AU, mates, PWP, fluff, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, threesome (duh), oral, mating, knotting, marking, some possessiveness if you squint (softdom!Hyunjin?)

Word Count: ~5k

Summary: You joined Chan’s pack a few months ago and it’s been great so far. But there’s been some frustration accumulating in you for a while that you couldn’t battle on your own. Thankfully, there are young wolves around ready to help you. And they might be even more willing to take care of you than you realize.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s note: Okay, I’m finally back with a new story!! I know I’ve been a bit absent lately, but that’s cz I’m writing a whole HHJ novel lmao Not even kidding, that one is gonna be sooo looonggg… But in the meantime, I decided yesterday that I needed to write something short and fun that I can share with you asap, and this happened! I was up till 7 or 8AM writing this, so huge thanks to @tusswrites for helping me edit this so quickly!! Anyways, this is my first Stray Kids story, so I really hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback~ Thank you, sweethearts <3

Network Tags: @kvanity-main  @ksmutsociety

You’d been feeling weird lately.

It was a feeling that washed over you from time to time, causing you discomfort, yet you still couldn’t place it. You tried to analyze the situation you were in when it appeared and figure out where it was coming from or what it was in general, but all your efforts were in vain. Something made you feel strange, and you didn’t know what or why.

It was definitely not the life with your new pack. You joined it 6 months ago after Chan’s vehement coaxing. You’d known him even before he became the alpha of his own pack, but after wandering around the world for several years and coming back to settle down, you found the citylife to be quite dangerous for a lone she-wolf. You didn’t want to admit that you needed protection as you were more than capable of fighting your own fights, but after being constantly harassed on the daily by cocky members of various local packs, you didn’t take much convincing. Chan was a good guy and a great laid-back leader, so you knew he didn’t offer this with any ulterior motive in mind. You’d have probably joined his pack even faster if not for one thing – it was full of men. And although you had no issues with young wolves with manners, being the only female wolf in the pack sounded questionable.

This made your mind blow up with questions and assumptions. What if they start harassing you as well? Chan would probably not allow that. What if they get overly possessive over you? You would probably not allow that either. What if you cannot handle living in the same space as them without any privacy? Well, you could always move back out… With the alpha’s permission.

Regardless of your reservations, Chan seemed relentless in his attempts to lure you in. You weren’t too surprised by that. There was a bond that alphas shared with their pack members. Whenever you meet your alpha, you feel like you are on the same wavelength. Some alphas are so in-tune with their current or potential packmates that they can even sense it when they meet their future mate. They do not know whose mate it is necessarily, but they can sense that it might be one. Not every alpha is capable of that though, although most of them can at least tell whether you are a good fit for their pack or not. Chan was quick to pass his judgement and inform you with all sincerity that you definitely belonged with his pack and had to trust his gut on this.

So, you did.

And you were completely stunned with the way it had turned out. You were guarded and cautious when you first joined. But the guys were actually so friendly and so welcoming that you felt at home mere days later. It was like they were your little brothers, whom you’d been living with your entire life. Sure, they were a bit awkward with you at first, but after the adaptation period was over, you were all set with your new family.

They took care of you, and you cared for them as well. You helped Minho and Yongbok cook dinner, bought art supplies for Hyunjin, scolded Changbin whenever he was too harsh on Han and helped them make up, looked after the maknaes and made sure they were not getting into trouble. You were also giving Chan a piece of your mind whenever he pulled all-nighters, too busy with his work, and then snapped at his poor pack members for interacting with him at the wrong time. At some point you managed to have him come back to his senses and remember to get at least 5 hours of sleep every night to prevent himself from turning into a wild beast.

Everything was going great until last week, when you finally noticed that the mood swings that bothered you for a few months now, were actually getting worse. You blamed it on the insomnia that you’d been suffering from lately. After all, you’d seen Chan becoming overly sensitive to everything after being sleep-deprived, but you had no idea what was making you so stressed. You had no issues within the pack, and your life outside was also pretty solid too. Now that you had your brothers around, no one was brave enough to walk up to you and challenge your bodily integrity unless they wanted to compromise their own. Despite you being older, your brothers took your protection seriously. When you joining the pack was not that widely known, there had been a few incidents that lead to physical altercations. And despite thinking that being told to sit down and let the boys handle this shit would make you angry, you actually felt giddy instead. They didn’t belittle your abilities in any way, but each and every one of them was the first in line to protect your honor. You appreciated their brotherly love towards you more than you’d care to admit. So much so, that you didn’t say anything to them, when their extensive protection made most wolves steer clear of you whenever they met you out and about.

And even as your behavior started to shift lately, they quickly picked up on that too. Yongbok and Changbin kept asking you if anything had happened. Minho made your favorite spicy pasta, which almost no one could handle apart from you two, and maybe Jeongin as well. Seungmin and Han tried to make you laugh with their silly antics. And yet, your bad mood did not lift for long.

Today you stayed home with Hyunjin, and he asked if you wanted to get some fresh air and join him on his way to a new art exhibition at the gallery downtown. You latched onto this opportunity to shake the dust off of yourself and maybe alter your mood with the help of this public outing, hoping that it might bring you some welcomed attention. With that in mind, you’d put a little too much effort into dressing up, which you realized only when your companion gave you a puzzled onceover. But when you asked if you looked inappropriate, he shook his head. Hyunjin wasn’t a man of many words most of the time, he only became talkative whenever he was drunk or simply in the mood for long chats. After a short ‘you look beautiful’ that made you feel a ping of this confusing emotional response inside you, he motioned for you to follow him outside.

However, after a few hours strutting from one installation to another in your incredibly unreasonable high heels, you became tired and capricious. To the point when you almost cried when Hyunjin sat you down on the bench outside one of the exhibition halls and disappeared for a few minutes, only to return with a pair of flat slippers. You whined that there was no way you would be seen next to him looking this ugly, and he hummed, crouching down in front of you and removing your shoes at once. He rummaged through his Versace bag and got a band-aid out, plastering it over an aching spot on your foot. While you were watching him, barely containing a shiver from the tickle of his breathing over your knee, he carefully inserted your feet into the slippers and grabbed your shoes in one hand, offering you to hold onto his arm. When you stood up, he couldn’t help but crack a dimpled smile, patting your head affectionately. After walking around in your insane high heels for hours, you now acutely felt how small you were next to him. It was a thought that made you flustered for no reason, so you frowned and made your way to the elevator, trying to seem like you were in a hurry to get back home.

A car ride home was unbearable. Your feelings were all over the place again. One moment you were grateful to Hyunjin for his attentiveness, the other you were mad at him for acting like your partner when he clearly wasn’t, and a second later you would be on the verge of crying for having no prospects of finding one either. Having no mate at your age was bothering you so much more than it should’ve, and at some point you managed to convince yourself that you didn’t care if you missed him earlier in life. Shit happens, you thought. Not everyone spent their lives with their mates, and even if you didn’t want to settle for less, at some point you might have to. And while considering this dreadful future, you had even decided that you would start going out with humans later. Dating a wolf who could very well meet their mate months or years down the line and becoming tossed to the side would be a traumatizing experience, so you vowed to avoid it at all costs. Even if your love life would be frowned upon by most other wolves, who did not consider humans to be valid partners.

These thoughts did not add positivity to your attitude, and by the time you came home, your mood was so sour that you barely acknowledged Jeongin in the living room, heading straight to the bathroom on your floor. You threw your clothes around as you got them off and removed your jewelry. Even wiping your makeup off was a chore that made you angry, so you stepped into the water almost boiling with frustration.

Taking an entire hour to finish your routine, you relocated to your room, throwing your pajamas on before crawling under the blanket. It was way too early to go to bed, but you hated the idea of being outside of your room when you had no grip on your emotions whatsoever. Snapping at your brothers, who were innocent in the matter, was not an option you were willing to explore. And it was not their fault that these thoughts and feelings suddenly came over you at random. So you stayed in, huffing and puffing for at least another half an hour, until you were interrupted by a knock on your door.

‘Can I come in?’ You heard Hyunjin ask from the other side of the door.

You didn’t want him to, but you also didn’t want to turn him away.

‘Come in.’

He slowly opened it, peeking inside before seeping fully into your room. His head cocked to the side as he took in your state.

‘Are you feeling well?’ He asked, approaching you carefully.

You shrugged, mumbling that you were fine. His nose twitched as he clearly checked if anything would be given away by your scent.

‘Are you sure?’ He asked, taking a seat on your bed.

It wasn’t unusual, the closeness he allowed himself, yet it made you even more unstable than you were before.

‘I don’t know, Jinnie.’ You whined, kicking the blanket up with one foot. ‘I’m a mess.’

He furrowed his thick dark eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’

You pouted, feeling the frustration rise again.

‘I don’t know…’ You repeated, sounding like you were about to cry now.

On a whim, you scooted closer to him and threw yourself forward to hug him. Overcoming the initial shock, Hyunjin reciprocated with a tight embrace. His hands were gently patting your back, and it seemed like he had nothing against the physical contact.

‘I’m sorry,’ you muttered into his collarbone and tried to pry yourself away from him. ‘I know you don’t like skinship that much-’

‘Don’t worry about that, noona.’ He cut you off, dragging you back into himself.

You sat like that for a few minutes, and you calmed down a little, too focused on his heartbeat under your ear. There was also something else that you’d noticed.

‘Jinnie,’ you inhaled deeply. ‘You smell… nice.’

He froze, still holding you in his arms, and his Adam’s apple bobbing indicated that he was in a state of utter disarray.

‘What do you-’

The door into your room flew open, and Jeongin invited himself in.

‘Why are you making a cuddle nest without me? You know I am the best candidate to make you feel better, noona!’

He jumped on the bed, making you huff in amusement.

‘See? You’re already smiling.’ He wrapped his arms around your bicep and continued. ‘Let go of this hyung, I am all you need.’

Hyunjin raised his eyebrow, likely feeling competitive after this comment.

And for the next ten minutes, they were busy fighting for your attention.

‘It must’ve been you,’ Jeongin nagged at the older wolf. ‘She spent the whole day with you and came back angry. I am pretty sure…’

‘It’s not. I’ve been in a weird mood lately, that’s all.’

‘Oh?’ He perked up from your thigh, where he’d been resting his head. ‘Weird how? Don’t tell me-’

‘What?’ You and Hyunjin asked in unison.

‘Are you like… frustrated?’

‘I am,’ you nodded, misunderstanding his question.

‘You know what I mean? Like… sexually?’

At this, you opened your mouth, completely offended by the suggestion.

‘What the hell?’ You shoved him in the shoulder, trying to get him off of your thigh.

‘No, but that would be so great,’ he told you despite the commotion. ‘Because it’s not that hard to solve.’

‘Yeah right.’ You grumbled, making both wolves look at you. ‘What? I am not admitting to anything!’

‘You don’t have to, my face is inches away from the only thing about you that is truthful right now,’ the youngest noted without a care.

Hissing, you shoved him off, pulling the blanket over your knees again.

‘What? It’s only the truth.’ He rolled his eyes at your reaction. ‘Just get someone to fuck you and you’ll be alright.’

You sighed.

‘Yeah, ‘cause that’s so easy.’

Jeongin sat up.

‘What do you mean? If it’s not easy for you, who’s it easy for?’

‘Someone who doesn’t have a few wolf brothers to rip into anyone looking their way?’

‘We only rip into assholes who bother you,’ Hyunjin interjected.

‘Right. And the non-assholes watch that and think, ‘oh great, I’d love to hit that after they’re done with the other guy’. Sure.’

‘If they think like that they don’t need to be hitting that anyway.’ He replied curtly, and you pouted again.

‘Remind me again why you were surprised I cannot get laid?’

‘You shouldn’t give yourself over to guys like that, noona.’ Hyunjin pressed.

‘Agreed. You could always ask someone else for help. Like, I’d definitely help the hell out of you right now,’ Jeongin said, reaching your thigh with his hand and squeezing it.

‘Then you better do that, because I am already planning to get a tinder account and grab me some human!’ You suddenly confessed, startling both of the wolves.

‘You’re- what??’ Hyunjin gasped in your ear.

‘I didn’t think you were actually that desperate, noona…’ Jeongin muttered, licking his lips. ‘But I can deliver on my offer, if you really mean it.’

You swallowed under the scrutiny of the two pairs of eyes, and leaned back into Hyunjin, suddenly feeling weak from the stress of it. In any other state you might’ve been able to think it through and decline. But right now you suddenly had no care for the consequences of your actions.

‘Do it.’ You exhaled, watching the youngest wolf purse his lips to contain his excitement.

Before you allowed yourself to think about the current chain of events, you grabbed Hyunjin’s arms and wrapped them tighter around your frame. For some reason, you didn’t want him to go either.

‘Are you sure about this?’ He asked in your ear, and you shivered from his hot breath.

You turned to give him a reassuring nod.

‘It’s easy to give into temptation when you’re vulnerable. We can’t take advantage of that,’ he continued, brushing a strand of your hair to the side.

You felt overwhelmed by his comment, but then the youngest inserted himself into this exchange.

‘Are you that scared of Chan?’ He chuckled.

‘Chan? What does he have to do with anything?’ You asked in confusion, while they were throwing daggers at each other with their eyes.

‘Because hyung told us in graphic terms that he’d rip our faces off if we tried to coerce you into something like that.’

‘What the hell??’

‘My thoughts exactly. I think you’re the one coercing me into getting down for you, noona,’ he smiled, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts.

‘Why would he say that though?’ You asked Hyunjin this time.

‘I don’t know. I guess he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable around us?’

That made sense, sort of. But you weren’t sure if that was simply due to your reluctance about joining an all-male pack, or if there was something else going on. Jeongin’s hand dipping between your thighs disrupted your already flailing thought process.

Hyunjin growled lowly, warning him, and he looked at you for approval.

‘Take them off,’ you told him, and he smiled, tugging your shorts off immediately.

‘Noona…’ Hyunjin protested hoarsely, but you squeezed his forearm.

‘I am the one initiating this. Forget whatever Chan told you.’

‘It’s not about what-’

‘I want you here. Do you want to stay?’ You asked him, and his grip on you tightened, as if you could kick him out for real.

‘Yes.’

‘Then stop nagging. And kiss me.’

He looked down at your mouth and swallowed, leaning in.

‘Shit noona, you are soaked…’ The youngest distracted both of you with his eagerness. ‘Do you always wear such skimpy underwear at home? I could fuck you without taking it off.’

Before you answered, he pulled the item of clothing to the side and ran two fingers between your wet folds. Without wasting anymore time for chitchat, he leaned in, attaching his lips to your pussy.

‘Ah fuck!’ You jolted, steadied by the arms around you.

In fact, Hyunjin’s iron hold made it even more egregious.

Jeongin made it known that he was enjoying himself, humming into you as he licked and sucked your sensitive flesh. You could feel his spit drip down to your hole, and clenched around nothing, clawing at Hyunjin’s forearm.

‘Innie, shit…’ You cursed, looking down at his fluffy head between your legs.

He seemed pleased by the feedback he was receiving, so he started alternating between various techniques. When he switched to quick sharp licks up your slit, you started shaking.

You threw your head back, bumping into Hyunjin’s shoulder. He was still tense, and you turned your head to inhale his familiar scent that calmed you down before.

‘Jinnie, please touch me,’ you begged, trying to move one of his hands onto your breast.

His nose brushed against yours, and you felt his plush lips connect with the corner of your mouth. Grabbing him by the hair on the back of his head, you pushed him closer. He growled, mouth crashing on yours, and slipped his tongue inside it aggressively. When you felt his hand sneak under your pajama top to grab your boob, you whimpered loudly. His other hand pressed down on your belly, and Jeongin suddenly flicked your clit with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth harshly.

You cried out, trembling in Hyunjin’s grasp. You were too sensitive to withstand such an attack.

‘Innie, don’t stop- I’m-’ You sobbed, grabbing onto Hyunjin’s hand over your breast. ‘I’m cumming-’

The older one bit onto your ear gently before giving it a short lick, and your eyes rolled back into your head. Jeongin was still assaulting your nub, and your long animalistic wail was probably heard outside.

You were still breathless when you felt someone lift your hips, removing your underwear.

‘Give her a break,’ you heard Hyunjin say sternly.

You squeezed his bicep, causing him to divert his attention.

‘Don’t,’ you shook your head weakly. ‘I want to.’

Just a moment later, you felt Jeongin prod at your entrance. You whined as he inserted himself into you, barely having enough time to adjust before he began rutting into you.

‘Fuck, noona… You have a- a perfect pussy,’ he noted, sounding strained. ‘Ah shit-’

Despite being just a year apart with Hyunjin, Innie was still quite young and impressionable. You could tell how overly excited and aroused he got from going down on you, and you felt it in his abrupt thrusts that he was not going to last at all. But you didn’t mind.

You panted, the aftershocks of your previous release rekindling by the continuous slapping of skin against your pussy, and Jeongin began fucking you even harder.

But at this point you got too distracted by the heavy breathing in your ear. Hyunjin wasn’t even the one inside you, and yet, he was still the one making you go insane. You wanted to cry from his proximity, because he was close but still not close enough.

You squeezed his thigh and moved your palm to the side, finding his long, hard cock.

‘Jinnie…’ You mumbled, frantically shoving your hand down his pants.

His hips jerked forward as you grabbed his thick flesh.

You desperately, desperately wanted him inside. And he knew.

‘Don’t cum inside her,’ he told the younger one, who was definitely close to his orgasm, and shoved him with his foot.

You felt him slip out, cursing his hyung, who quickly flipped you around. Jeongin tugged your hips up to put you on all fours, and shoved himself inside you again. Your face was pressed to Hyunjin’s flexing abs while he fucked you from behind feverishly. With all the thoughts vanishing from your dazed brain, you resorted to kissing and licking the skin over his taut stomach and using your nails to leave shallow marks as he stroked your head slowly. The maknae’s fingers dug deeper into the supple flesh of your thighs as he came to the verge of his release.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Hyunjin suddenly growled, loud and clear this time. ‘Get your ass over there and watch.’

Your skin was all covered in goosebumps from the commanding tone of his voice. You wanted him to use it on you as well, just so that you could defy him. Fuck around and find out.

But Jeongin was a good boy, so he did as he was told. As soon as he slipped out, you got pulled up the bed again. Hyunjin put almost his entire weight onto your back, making your elbows and knees give out. That seemed to be exactly what he wanted, and his dick slipped into your tight hole easily while you were lying flat on the bed. You moaned as his body moved in a wave-like motion, merging with yours completely. It wasn’t clear whether Hyunjin was that much bigger than Jeongin, or it was the position adding to it, but you felt so full that it made your pussy quiver helplessly.

‘Please, Jinnie…’ You whined, as his hips continued to snap forward. ‘Make me cum…’

He quickly pulled out, rolling you over like a ragdoll, and folded you in half, continuing to pound you into the mattress. You heard Jeongin moan from his spot on the chair, where he was watching you from. But you were too engaged to even try and pay attention to him, although you were sure that he was jerking himself off right now.

Hyunjin was destroying your pussy with methodical slaps, and you felt your big orgasm build again. You were going to cum so hard, you just knew it.

‘Mhm, deeper…’ You pleaded, your vision blurring as he hit so deep that your pleasure was beginning to hurt.

‘Do you want- want me to- want my cum?’ He asked, not slowing down at all.

‘Fuck, Jinnie…’

You thrashed underneath him, causing him to let go of your legs, unfolding you, and lie on top of you. His pelvis snapped back-and-forth fluidly, and you made eye contact, catching his feral gaze that likely mirrored your own.

‘Fill me…’ You choked on your words. ‘Fuck, I want it- inside me-’

As your orgasm washed over your body, you completely lost it. All control over your actions slipped away from you, and you bit into his flesh that was closest to you, piercing his bicep with your teeth. You pulled back almost immediately, but before you could say anything, Hyunjin reciprocated, grabbing your arm and sinking his own teeth into your wrist.

With the added tinge of pain, you were still shaking violently when his cum flooded your insides. You wailed and screamed every time he thrusted, with his skin slapping against yours, until his cum started gushing out of you. When he stilled, you were on the verge of losing consciousness. The tightness in your hole kept you there, and you swallowed the salty taste of his blood, slowly realizing what just happened.

‘Dammit, hyung! You knotted her?’ You heard Jeongin come to his senses before you two.

‘Fuck off.’

Hyunjin didn’t sound like he’d let anyone mess with him right now, and it sent a tight pulse through your core. He watched Jeongin flee the room as he ran his tongue over his teeth, obviously aware of your body’s reactions to him. Licking his bloody red lips, he sobered himself up.

‘You fucking marked me,’ he told you, as if you didn’t already know.

‘I didn’t- didn’t mean to-’ You tried to justify breathlessly, fidgeting slightly. ‘It just felt so good that I…’

‘Stop talking. I can’t move, and you make me want to rip into you all over again.’

You pursed your lips as your pussy quivered around his rock hard knot once more, making your eyes tear up. Everything about him was sending you into overdrive, and you had no idea what to do with yourself. It suddenly dawned on you that this was exactly what you wanted this entire time, and you had no idea that it was making you frustrated. Not even realizing that your mate was right next door, quite literally. You could’ve had him months ago, but you were too preoccupied by other things in life like trying to build a family bond with your new pack to see what fell right into your lap, quite literally. The only wolf you needed.

‘J-Jinnie…’

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he held his hips steady.

‘Baby. If you move even an inch-’ He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. ‘If you cum again, it will only prolong this…’

‘But I- I want to!’ You whined, wiggling your hips. ‘Please, it’s so big…’

‘No.’

‘Hyunjin!’

‘I said no.’

The authority in his voice made your toes curl.

‘Fuck,’ he growled, jerking forward involuntarily as he felt you fall apart again. ‘You’re not gonna stop until you get yourself pregnant, are you?’

You sobbed, unable to snatch yourself out of the excruciatingly long orgasm.

Hyunjin pressed as deep into you as he could, trying to hold you completely still, and the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix. At this point you simply blacked out from the intensity of the pleasure, regaining your perception of reality only when your partner’s girth finally began deflating in your overstimulated pussy.

‘Are you back?’ He asked, voice a bit gruff but not low and menacing anymore.

It made warmth spread out in your chest as you nodded.

‘Does anything hurt?’

You shook your head first, and then nodded after noticing his expression.

‘It must hurt. I told you not to move, baby.’ Although he was admonishing you, it didn’t stop him from pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘Give me a couple more minutes and it’ll be done.’

‘Okay,’ you mumbled, not that eager to let him go – he was your newly found mate, after all.

But your fragile intimacy was crushed by the loud voices in the hallway.

‘What the fuck did I tell you all about doing shit like that to her? I don’t care who-’

Chan burst through the door, stopping in his tracks.

‘Are you still going at it?!’ He asked, not fazed by the fact that Hyunjin was naked and on top of you.

After he tugged the blanket up to cover your bodies fully and turned to face his alpha, Chan gasped.

‘Don’t tell me- it’s you, isn’t it?? She’s your mate, right?’ He sounded more excited than angry now. ‘I knew it! I told you that you absolutely had to join-’

‘Hyung,’ Hyunjin cleared his throat, not even trying to sound apologetic. ‘We’re otherwise preoccupied, as you might see.’

Thankfully, he couldn’t see under the covers, and your mate’s body also shielded yours from the other wolf’s eyes, but you were still dying of embarrassment.

‘Oh- right. Wait, are you locked- You know what, nevermind. Keep going. I mean, finish up. I mean-’

‘Oh gosh, Chanie hyung!’ Yongbok groaned, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him into the hallway before shutting the door. ‘Let them be.’

As their voices became less and less distinguishable, Hyunjin looked into your eyes, seemingly reading your thoughts.

‘No, he’s never going to shut up about it,’ he replied before you asked. ‘But I’m still grateful that he convinced you to join the pack. Thank you for taking him up on his offer.’

His last words made him tense, thinking back to someone else you took up on his offer.

‘You’re going to snap Innie’s neck, aren’t you?’

‘You’re fucking right.’

‘Jinnie…’

Masterlist

A/N: Ahhh, this hot mess of a trio... I hope you enjoyed this little fun ride! Please comment and reblog, I really appreciate your feedback💜 And as usual, my asks are open~

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private session part2 is needed!! We all know Barry can be a dick head and he actually considers adding the having sex with a stripper option to customers when y/n finds out about this she obviously mad and saying no but when rafe finds outs about this he’s obviously mad and goes to Barry pissed saying wtf is this he obviously dose not want y/n to have sex with anyone else but him

Private Session - part two

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases. When he finds out Barry has been selling you to customers, he gets jealous, insisting that you must not sleep with anyone else.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe and Barry do cocaine), bondage (reader is tied up), p in v, unprotected sex, language, SLIGHT degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. This fic is NOT proofread, it's almost FIVE AM and I have school tomorrow, well, today I guess...UGH. I just got this request and had to write this!! Also thank you all for the support on part one?!?!?! That's INSANE, I love you guys! I wanted to get this out asap for y'all. Sorry if it's actually shit, I'm so tired and also high. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

Some time has passed since your ‘private session’ with Rafe. The first time you’d come back to work after your session with Rafe, Barry had talked to you at the beginning of your shift. Apparently, after seeing how much Rafe paid you for just one hour alone with him, Barry was inspired. He had told you that the club will now be providing a new “service” to well-paying customers. Customers now have the option to have sex with the dancers for the right price. Barry knew better than to sell his girls out for cheap, so the cost is rather high. And there’s typically only two types of men that have both the means and the money for it: the rich, old sugar daddies who probably can’t even get it up on their own and the rich, horny assholes of the island, take Rafe for example. 

When Barry had told you this, you were pissed. This was not in your job description; you’re a stripper not a hooker. You wanted to yell at him and quit. The issue is that when you got this job, you had signed a contract with Barry stating that you’d have to work there for at least a year or else you’d have to pay a fee. Knowing Barry, it’s a ridiculously large fee, ensuring that no one quit before their year was up. And it’s likely that the contract he made you sign isn’t even legal. But you're not going to try and find out, knowing that even if it’s not, that doesn’t matter to Barry. He’ll make you pay. And you don’t have that kind of money, that’s why you’re in this position in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, you’ve noticed that Rafe hasn’t been coming in as much. Not while you’re working at least. The few times he has come in, he hasn’t been alone, always coming in with a few other kooks and barely paying any attention to you. Which is definitely not normal for Rafe. You just assume that since he’s had you now, he’s lost his interest. You expected that you’d be relieved when he finally stopped watching you like prey, but now you’re not exactly sure what you feel. Does he not find you attractive anymore? Did he just lose interest after finally getting what it is that he had craved for so long? God, was it just you; did he see who you really are and run in the opposite direction? You knew that whole experience with him was too good to be true.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the door to the back room open. Quickly, you grab one of the dresses hanging in your locker and slip it over you; it’s what Barry told you to wear over your lingerie when you do at-home sessions with clients. You turn, watching as your boss and none other than Rafe Cameron stumble in through the door. Rafe goes quiet, his expression going dead as he lays eyes on you. 

“Lookin’ good”, Barry whistles. “Where you headed, princess?” He asks as he turns away from you, sitting on a chair. Barry leans back in his seat, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggie full of white powder. You’ve always ignored his side business, always pretending you don’t see any of it. Which is what you do right now. Trying your hardest to ignore the fact he’s preparing a line on the small, glass coffee table, you finish up what you’re doing and close your locker a bit harshly.

“I have a client waiting.” You snap. You walk closer to where Barry is sitting and turn your back to him. “Tie me?” You ask, holding your hair up and waiting for him to tie the complex strings of your backless dress. Though he’s currently busy doing a line of cocaine. Without hesitation, Rafe steps closer, his fingers moving to tie your dress. You don’t have to see him to know he’s the one tying your dress. Your skin just immediately remembers his touch, causing chills to run down your spine at the flashbacks of that night. Rafe notices your slight shiver and smirks as he tries to figure out how the straps of your dress go. His hands linger on the skin of your lower back for longer than they need to and your breath hitches each time his skin comes into contact with your own.

When he’s done, he sits on the couch across from Barry, facing you. You turn back to them, not bothering to thank him. To be honest, you’re a bit pissed at him for starting this whole sex with customers thing. You know he didn’t intend to, but he’s the one who gave Barry the idea. 

Barry speaks up again as he wipes the excess powder from his nose. “When will you be back, I need you out on the floor.” 

I can’t do fucking everything, you think. Although your words come out much more politely. “It’s an at-home appointment so probably an hour.” You’ve had this client before, he typically finishes pretty quick. 

You hear Rafe’s loud breathing as he snorts a line which grabs your attention, making you briefly turn your head to look at him. You watch as he leans back, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply as his high takes over. Rafe slouches in his seat, spreading his legs wide, making you quickly look away. Of course he notices how you’re reacting to him, he always notices everything about you. He crosses his arm and lets out a small sigh. 

Rafe’s tone is sharp as he cuts in. “At-home?” He questions, still trying to act as though he doesn’t care about the conversation you and Barry were having. 

Barry’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight before turning to look at Rafe. “We now offer a new service: you can fuck any of ‘em bitches now.” You make a face at Barry’s words, not liking how he described you and the other girls. Usually he’d never say that in the presence of one of his “bitches”, but Rafe and Barry always brought out the worst in each other; their behavior much worse when they’re together. 

“Wait, what?!” He asks, sitting up a bit before calming himself down. He leans back against the couch, trying to seem all nonchalant. “So, they’re hookers?” He questions more calmly as he looks over to you. You recall having to tell him you weren’t a hooker the last time you saw him. You scowl, hating that he’s trying to prove you wrong and rub it in. 

“Hookers, bitches, call ‘em whatever you want. I should thank you for giving me the idea. I mean, do you have any idea how much money this is making me.” Barry boasts. “And miss pretty princess over here is our top money maker.” Barry gestures to you as you stand there, waiting for your chance to leave. “She brings in the most customers. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” You nod. Everytime Barry gets high, he doesn’t fucking shut up. Rafe just nods his head dryly, leaning down to snort another line of the white substance from the table. 

You take this as your queue to leave and you walk out through the door and back into the main part of the club. You walk through the crowd and search for your client. Leaving Rafe with a few moments to think in silence before Barry starts yapping about all the guys you’ve been fucking. Rafe is fucking furious with this new addition to the club. He had never intended for Barry to take inspiration from his actions, he just needed you. And now anyone else who wants you, can have you. How is it that you could say that you don’t go home with guys often, and turn around and go fuck a bunch of guys for a living right after? Was he just another client to you? Rafe can’t take it anymore and decides to take action. He shoots up from his seat on the couch and storms after you. 

As you’re walking, you feel a hand grip your arm and spin you around. You’re almost chest to chest with Rafe as he speaks down to you. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I have a client.” You explain, again. 

“The fuck you mean ‘a client’?” 

“You’re not the only one who’s willing to pay just to fuck me, Rafe.” You say coldly. 

He chuckles, responding sarcastically as he stares down at you with his wide, dilated eyes. “Thought you never went home with random guys?”

“I didn’t. Until you gave Barry the idea of selling me out to strangers for a quick buck.”

Rafe sighs, his grip on your arm loosening. “That’s not what I wanted. I mean c’mon, you think I want other guys fucking you?”

The implication in his words shock you, but you try not to read too much into it. Before you get the chance to respond he lets go of your arm, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. Without question, he pulls his wallet out from his pocket, flipping it open and looking up at you. “How much is he gonna pay?” You stare at him blankly, confused in what he’s doing. He huffs out a long breath shutting his eyes for a second before bringing one hand up to snap in your face, grabbing your attention. “The guy, your…” his hand waves around in the air, gesturing outwards as he momentarily stutters. “...Client, or whatever. How much was he going to pay you?” He speaks more slowly this time, as if you’re stupid or something. 

“Depends.” You answer. The client you’re supposed to be meeting right now didn’t have an exact time planned, but you know how much he typically has the stamina for. 

He purses his lips, shifting on his feet. “Ballpark.” He demands. His gaze darted between your eyes, constantly shifting to look at both. 

Still confused, you hesitantly respond to his question, stuttering as you speak. “$800.” Immediately, he starts to count the money in his wallet, taking out the eight-hundred and then some. Rafe hands the cash out to you, but you don’t take it right away so he tucks it into the low cut neckline of your dress.

“There, now I take priority.” He takes hold of your arm again and drags you through the club and out into the parking lot. He walks you up to his truck, which you can now recognize. Rafe pulls the passenger door open for you and walks around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. You know to get in, shutting the door behind you and buckling your seatbelt before looking over at him. Your stomach tightens as his eyes undress you. Rafe finally turns his head away, reaching over his shoulder to grab his seatbelt. Suddenly, it’s like the image registered in his brain and he whipped his head back to you, glaring at your thighs.

You noticed him staring at you, looking down into your lap. The super short dress you were wearing has ridden up, revealing the few hickeys that are spread over your inner thighs. His eyes find the others on your neck as well and he knows he wasn’t the one to leave them. You try to keep your customers from leaving hickeys and other marks in your body, but it’s like the more you tell them not to, the more they want to. It makes Rafe almost sick to his stomach when he thinks about kissing you with those marks; marks left on your skin from other men. He can’t stand it. Suddenly his mind is filled with images of you fucking other guys, he tries to shake out the thoughts but he can’t; they’re eating away at him. The two lines of cocaine from earlier not helping the situation, it only serves to intensify his anger. 

As he drives he looks over at you. He starts to rant, his voice booming inside the small tuck cabin. “Bet they can’t make you cum four fuckin’ times in an hour, can they?”  You only slightly jump when he startles you with the increasing volume of his voice. “They can’t fuckin’ touch you like I can, huh?” He glances at the road shortly, then he turns his head back to you. “Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, yeah?” He waits for a response.

You catch the hint. “Mhm…yeah.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you get to Tanneyhill, Rafe comes to an abrupt stop in his driveway. He wastes no time before getting out of the truck and rounding the front of it to get to your side. Rafe pulls the passenger seat door open, grabbing ahold of your arm again. He tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you two. 

As soon as you hear the door shut, his lips are finding yours and attacking them. In the moment, he decides that his bedroom upstairs is too far and he takes you into the kitchen. He continues to kiss you, walking you backwards until your lower hips bump into the counter; in which he grabs your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter. One of his hands finds its way underneath your dress and between your legs. In quick movements, he tugs your lacy thong down and off of your body. Once they hit the floor, he’s pulling your legs apart; forcing them to spread wide so that you’re exposed and accessible to him. Your pussy grows wet in anticipation of what he’s going to do to you; which is something that none of the other men have been able to make you feel.

Rafe brushes a light hand over your cunt, groaning into your mouth as he discovers how wet you are for him. Not some random guy at the club, but him. He continues to kiss you, swallowing the small moans that try and escape your lips. His hands move to his belt, working on getting it off. Once it’s off, he pulls his jeans down and steps out of them; only breaking the kiss once. The next thing to go in his boxers; he slides them down and lets them pool at his ankles.

With absolutely no warning or further preparation, Rafe slams into you. You choke out a moan, tilting your head back. Rafe starts to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear just so that your cunt can squeeze around him even tighter as he jackhammers into you. “Fuuck…so tight.” He groans. “Did anyone else fuck you like this, hm? Did anyone else’s cock stretch you out like this?” He growls into your ear. His hand snakes around to the back of your head, gathering all your hair and tugging your head back so that you were looking at him. “That was a fucking question. Fucking answer.” He demands.

“I…”, you cry out as his cock repeatedly hits the extra sensitive spot deep inside you. A spot that nobody else can reach like how he does. “N-no…just you.” 

“Just me, what?” He continues, enjoying your struggle to form words as he fucks you at this pace.

“Just you can fuck me like this.” You admit. You’re not even saying it because he wants you to, but because you can honestly say that nobody’s ever fucked you like how he’s fucked you. 

“Good girl.” He praises. He runs a hand through your hair and slows his speed to a very slow, careful pace, admiring your features as your face contorts with pleasure. After about a minute, his hand finds your clit, his fingers rubbing harsh circles as his thrusts speed up to an unbearable pace again. He places a hand on your chest, pushing you down so that you’re laying with your back flat on the counter. 

The cold counter adds to the intense feeling. He pauses for a moment to pull your shiny, little dress up past your hips to keep it out of the way. When he continues, he’s drilling into you faster than before, giving you the last bit of his anger through his thrusts. Your back begins to arch off the counter, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. And just as you’re about to see stars, Rafe pulls out of you and steps back, pulling his boxers back up from his ankles.

An involuntary whine escapes your lips when his touch leaves you and you sit up on your elbows, trying to figure out why he stopped. Except he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts you up, carrying you upstairs and into his bedroom. 

When you get into his room, he sets you down just before the bed. “Shit, I almost forgot.” He mumbles. You furrow your brows and follow his gaze to his bed. On his bed sits a small gift box. You look back at him to find him staring at you. “Open it.” The demands, his tone almost displaying a small trace of excitement. 

You look back at the box, taking a few steps closer to the bed. You reach out to flip over the small tag on the box, it reads: ‘To: my favorite hooker’. Your breath hitches. He’s so frustrating with his persistence of using that word, ‘hooker’, when he knows you aren’t one. Well, you didn’t used to be one. But you have to admit, this seems almost…sweet, in a way. Sweet for Rafe anyhow. You fight back your smile as you reach both hands out, carefully lifting the lid off of the box, setting it on the bed. Inside the box lay some very beautiful, intricate lingerie; it’s clearly very expensive, judging on the fact that you can’t even pronounce the brand name. 

Rafe explains, “For what I ripped last time. I told you I’d replace it.”

“You did.” You say, getting lost in his eyes for perhaps a moment too long.

“Take it out.” He instructs and you obey, taking the delicate lingerie out of the gift box. Underneath the set, you find another gift. A vibrating wand as well as some thick ribbon. The vibrator you understand, the ribbon…not so much. You hold some of it up, turning to face him as if asking ‘what’s this for?’. Rafe understands what you’re asking and he responds vaguely. “You’ll see.” Clearly he enjoys keeping you on your toes, and you hate it. 

After changing into your new lingerie, you exit his bathroom and walk towards his bed. Quickly he has you laying on your back. He takes some ribbon from the box and straddles your waist leaning over you as he ties each of your wrists to a separate bed post. He then did the same with your feet. Now you’re all tied up for him, spread out on the bed and vulnerable. 

He leans down, hovering over you. He starts to kiss all over your body, his lips finding any open spot of skin on you. He pauses his kisses for a moment, leaning back up enough to look at you. He tells you, “Don’t wear this at the club.” Rafe leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your chest. “This is for me, yeah?” He mumbles, giving you yet another kiss. “My eyes only.” you nod in response, you agree. This is way too expensive to be wearing to the club.

“Yes, yes, only you.” You desperately plead. 

Rafe chuckles and starts to kiss down your body, He makes a momentary stop at your chest, mouthing over one of your nipples through the thin fabric, his fingers rolling your other nipple between his fingers. His actions elicit a loud moan to escape your lips as your body tenses up, struggling against the restraints. You now understand the ribbon. Last time, he had used rope to tie you up and it would painfully dig into your skin. But the ribbon was soft, not causing pain to be inflicted upon you as your body reacts to his actions. His mouth leaves your breast, moving to the other side, ensuring that it wasn’t left out. His hand also switches to pinch at your other nipple.

His mouth starts to travel down your body again as his hand reaches behind him on the bed to grab something. He mouths over your clothed cunt, making you whine and shiver underneath him; still sensitive from when he had teased you earlier on the kitchen counter. 

You hear a vibrating sound, but before your brain could register what it is, he’s using the new vibrator he bought for you, on you. He presses it firmly against your clit through the fabric of your panties. Your arms tug at the restraints in response, your legs trying, and failing to close. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed and weak. Lying here helpless as he assaults your small bundle of nerves. 

Rafe pulls your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. He pushes the vibrator directly on your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body at the sensation. “F-fuck!” You cry, your abdominal muscles contracting as your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl. Rafe leans in, using his tongue to lap up the juices that drip from your slick entrance as he keeps the vibrator steady on your most sensitive part. “Rafe!” You scream his name out as you cum, finally seeing the stars you were denied earlier, the build-up making it that much more intense. 

He pulls the vibrator away, only using his tongue to work you down from your high. When your body starts to relax more, he stops and moves back up your body. He sets the vibrator aside and kisses at your neck, leaving new marks of his own; darker and larger than the others. 

You’re still in shock at Rafe’s decision to use a toy on you. You definitely weren’t mad about it, that’s for sure. It’s just that typical guys won’t want to use a vibrator on you because they want to prove they’re better all by themselves. Rafe’s definitely good at sex, that’s just a given fact. But the confidence he has to use a vibrator on you, mixed with his skill…he’s fucking incomparable. 

Rafe unties your wrists, letting your arms fall and relax. Next he moves to untie the ribbon that ties your feet to the bed. Once you’re completely free, he gives you a moment, knowing how tiring that was for your body. He knows you need to recover if he wants to get more orgasms from you tonight. 

Though you appreciate his generosity, you want to help him out too. So you take him by surprise by placing your hand over his hard cock through his boxers. Except he still manages to be the one surprising you when he speaks. “Fuck…that feels…s’so good baby.” He groans, but moves your hand off his dick. “But let me take care of you, yeah? I know Barry’s got you workin’ a lot, hm? Heard you’ve got the most customers, is that right?” He asks, his hands starting to squeeze and massage at you calves 

“Mhm…” you agree, closing your eyes in relaxation. 

Rafe’s hands move to massage your feet, knowing the tall heels you’re always wearing have to be causing you some discomfort. And he knows he assumed correctly when you let out a deep sigh at his touch. “Nobody ever takes care of you, hm? Always just taking what they want and giving you nothing?” He leans in closer to your ear and whispers, “I like taking care of you.” Rafe starts to nip softly at your ear, making you moan softly. 

After a while, his hands leave your feet, moving back up your body. He gently pulls off the lingerie, setting it on the bed beside you two. He takes a moment to revel in the sight of you, taking in what he is lucky enough to have in front of him. One of his hands finds its way to your slimy folds, gently running over your entrance. He gathers some of your slick and brings it up to your clit as he begins to rub it in steady, slow circles.

Finally, he pulls his boxers off. He uses his other hand to hold himself at the base, gently stroking himself a few times as he looks down at you underneath him. Without much more preparation, he pushes himself inside of you. This time, he moves slowly. His mind isn;t clouded from the effects of cocaine and anger anymore, instead he just wants to help you feel good. He wants to take him time, even though you’re likely not going to last long after your previous orgasm. 

“Shit, so fuckin’ wet f’me. You’re always so wet for me, hm? Such a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groans, his mouth right next to your ear so you can clearly hear all his praises. “M’gonna have to talk to Barry for you. Can’t have you fuckin’ those other guys anymore. This pussy’s for me; it’s mine.” His speed gets faster, his pace more erratic as you get closer, your cunt squeezing around him tighter; ultimately bringing him closer to finishing as well. “Hm? You hear me?”

“Mhm…” you nod eagerly, getting so close to cumming that you can barely form a complete thought. “Y-yes Rafe. Yours, fuck! Yours.”

He gathers all your hair, tugging on it so that your neck cocks back, giving him full access to mark it up. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck; sucking and biting at your skin. “Only a slut for me, right? Nobody else, not anymore.”

“Yes…sure, fuck, okay yeah!” You scream. The recognizable feeling of your stomach tightening just for the band to snap, making your back arch off the bed, pushing your body against his as you reach another orgasm. “Ohh…nngghh…f-fucking shit!” You curse, your hand clawing at his shirt, trying to take it off. Rafe understands what you need and does it for you.

It’s not long before he gets to his peak with the way you keep squeezing him; so wet that he just slips right in and out. But before he cums, he asks you a final question. “Can I?”,is all he says but it’s enough for you to know what it is that he’s asking. He’s already done it before, so you don’t see the problem, especially not right now. You don’t even have it in you to say no even if it was what you wanted,

“Mhm…please. Please cum inside me, Rafe. I-I need it.” You admit.

Without wasting another second, Rafe’s movements slow down as he releases his load in you; painting your walls white with his cum. You could feel his warm seed spilling out of you, mixing with your sticky juices. When he pulls out, you feel empty. Your lonely cunt left clenching around nothing. 

Rafe lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You never had taken Rafe for much of a cuddler, but he’s full of surprises tonight. You return the action, wrapping your arms around him and draping a leg over him. 

After you’ve both had time to recover, you still just lie there, enjoying each other's silent company. But you finally decide to break the silence between you two. “Y’know, I have to admit that it is kinda nice to be with someone who can get it up without taking pills.” You joke truthfully, referring to all the old sugar daddies that pay for your services.  

Rafe chuckles at your words. He wants to say ‘I told you so’, to prove that he knew nobody else made you feel the same as he did, but fights the urge. Instead he just laughs. “Oh, I bet.” 

“Did…did you mean what you said about talking to Barry?” You ask on a more serious note.

Rafe looks at you, admiring your soft, tired, fucked-out expression as he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Oh yeah, yeah. I can talk to him if you want. He usually listens to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” You ask.

“Then I’ll make him.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I started this, I’m gonna fix it, okay? So don’t worry. You ain’t gotta fuck nobody you don’t wanna no more, yeah? How’s that sound?”

“Thank you.” You mumble to him, your eyes starting to get heavy and droop shut. 

“I hope that means you’ll still fuck me.” He teases, petting your soft hair as he watches you. 

You just nod, too exhausted to engage in his jokes. Rafe just smiles softly, appreciating the fact that he has you all sleepy in his bed; his arms. Of all the time he spent watching you and admiring you at the club, he never was able to imagine this moment.

He presses one final kiss to your head before closing his own eyes, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll take you back tomorrow, that alright?”

“Mhm…” You mumble under your breath, already half asleep. 

“Goodnight.” He whispers, pulling the covers over the two of you. 

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

Again, sorry if this is bad. I'm so tired and too lazy/impatient to proofread/edit. I hope this is good enough to fulfill your request!