#I think we're actually Falling Hard for this setting

[umberpath]

it's too bloody soon to be fantasizing about writing a prequel novel when we aren't even sure it needs one...

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do. 

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating. 

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business. 

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it. 

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table. 

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee. 

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty. 

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her. 

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed.  “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything. 

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window. 

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them. 

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble. 

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food. 

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed. 

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock. 

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.” 

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements. 

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city. 

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now. 

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows. 

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows. 

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask. 

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are. 

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?” 

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you. 

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off. 

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar. 

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day. 

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy. 

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.” 

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead. 

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried. 

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks. 

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?” 

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile. 

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ AMERICAS SWEET-TARDs

ᯓ★ Homelander is forced to babysit you, the troublemaker of The Seven. Deadpool!reader does not like cooperating, dark humour, goofy stuff, typical cursing, gore, story is set on season 4. Reader is gn (uses they/them pronouns)!!

ᯓ★

How you found yourself in Vought's office is hard to explain. One thing you were bursting into the building of Amazon and the second you're here. You sat on the sofa, looking around as you whistled a tune to save yourself from the boredom.

"Why the fuck am I involved with this?" Your eyes perked up at the distant voices from outside the door.

"I'll explain when we're there"

Oh?

Being the nosy person you are, you got up and pressed the side of your ear against the door to get a better hearing of the conversation.

"Your plan won't come together if you don't settle the pieces in place, and this is your plan so you need to work with me here"

Suddenly it's quiet...

Did they leave?

Before you could react, the door opens and you ended up falling flat on your face. You tilt your head up to see it's Sister Sage and Homelander looking down at you. You chuckle.

"Sooo... you both look angry... did I do something?"

Hearing your question, Sister Sage scoffs at you.

"Did you?? You broke into Amazon's headquarters because they messed up your order. You even threatened to kill their CEO. Do you know how bad that is for the image?"

"I refuse to refer to a person named Jeff Bezo a CEO" You said when you got on your feet while dusting off your knees.

"Besides, I don't have an image. I'm pretty sure that I don't even have a face!!" Hearing your words, Sister Sage can't help but roll her eyes at you.

"Nonono seriously, I do not have a face. All this underneath the mask? It's like smashed up birthday cakes in there—"

"Okay I get it!!" She glares at you... then turning her attention to Homelander who's been listening attentively with his hands behind his back.

"You're babysitting Deadpool" She commanded like an order and he turns to look at her with his brows slightly raised.

"Me?" He said, clearly from his face he looks like he's about to be ticked off.

"Yes, I don't know what is it about them that makes it so hard for me to predict their moves" Just as she said that, she turns to look at you. You bat your eyes at her like a deer caught in headlights.

"Not to mention you're making a shit tons of problems for me to deal with here. You even had Lily be sent for therapy!!" She points at you and you held both your hands up in defeat by the mention of your agent.

"Hey now... All I did was cut off my arm and mailed it to Elon Musk. How else was I gonna give him the middle finger?" Your defense being enough to have her let out a sigh as she looks away.

"I don't care, just don't let them do anything stupid while I go help Firecracker with her script" She said to him and you both watches as she leaves. Once she's gone, he turns to look at you, a displeased expression on his face.

To your surprise, he was really actually TOTALLY doing what she's asking him to. You never saw him take orders like that before, let alone from a WOMAN.

"What was that?!" You exclaimed, both arms thrown towards the hallway where Sister Sage is seen to be walking down.

"What happened to Misogyny?! You're really just gonna let that happen???" You looked at him but he just rolls his eyes at you.

"Shut up. She's done more than you've ever did compared to your years here" He walks past you and ends up sitting down on the sofa. You don't say anything while you watch him go.

You're aware that your inability to die makes him bored of you but you didn't think he'd find you this boring.

Honestly it kinda hurts...

Because now you're gonna have to do more crazy shit to piss him off.

You cleared your throat as you forced up a smile.

"You know what, great talk. I'm gonna go be a good citizen now—"

"You step one foot out of this room and I'll lazer off two of your fucking legs"

"..."

With no idea how to respond to the threat. You stood at the door, looking down at your legs then back up at him... before taking a wide step out of the room.

He let's out an annoyed groan.

"Look I don't see why all of a sudden, you two, give the slightest shit about what I do. Has it ever occurred to you that this is my coping mechanism after YOU SLAUGHTERED NOIR—"

"Oh for christ sake, cry me a fucking river"

"You sure you really want that? 'Cause trust me I can cry the entire Nile river in this very room— and I can't promise you it'll be water" He looks at you and you look back at him, your body still standing a few feet away from the room.

"You done whining?" He asks, his expression showing not even the least of interest in your act. You let out an offended sound.

"Am I done whining?! Do you even know me?? That's LITERALLY all I do!!"

Clearly feeling hurt, you began to storm off. From the distant you could hear Homelander let out an exhausted sigh but you could care less right now.

Man if only you could go back to the first day where you two met.

Oh how traumatised he looked when he saw you cut your ears off in an attempt to escape Stillwell's welcoming speech.

Once you made it to the ground floor, you kicked the entrance door open with your chest slightly puffed out.

Who the hell does Ms. Know-It-All thinks she is to have any authority over you? You're the original member of The Seven for fuck sake.

"Holy shit it's Deadpool!!" A fan, seemingly a teenager points at you and you turned towards their group with your most charming smile.

"Hey now, try not to cream your pants... if you've even reached that stage yet..." Without even letting a second pass, the group stands around you as the one at the front takes out their phone for a selfie.

"Say Chimichangas!!" You said, holding up peace signs.

"Chimichangas!!"

⊹FLASH⊹

Once the picture is taken, the fans are quick to check the results while you scratched the itch on your butt. Once satisfied, they gave you their thanks before walking away.

At the same time you could hear the sound of Homelander approaching you from behind. You let out an annoyed groan before turning to face him but before you could even react, he grabs you roughly by the jaw.

"Years of your shit and you still won't learn your fucking place. If I say something. You do it. Understand?" He glares at you, his teeth gritted as his lips formed his signature psychotic grin.

You stare back and you could feel from his grip that you were being slightly lifted off the ground.

"Well excuse me, my liege. I must have missed the memo about being your personal slave. Is it too late to withdraw my contract?" He stares at you... before letting go of you while looking away out of despise.

"You're a cancer on this earth" He said as he's busy wiping his glove clean on his chest. You simply laugh at his remark.

"AH HAHaa hoo... well... you can always count on me to pop up unannounced" You shoot him a wink and decided to walk away, not really caring much of the consequences if you did.

Seeing you walk away like he's nothing, Homelander clenches his jaw out of irritation.

"You're always testing my patience (Y/N)" He said and you instantly stopped walking when you hear him addressing you by your real name.

"Uuugggh seriously? You ran out of tricks so now you're using my government name? You've gone old, John" You fold your arms as you turned to face him.

Noticing the angry look on his face, you are almost not surprised with what happens next.

⌁ZZZZ⌁

You look down, realising you've been lasered in half. Sounds of people nearby screaming was like background noise for you because you were too focused watching your upper half slide off your lower half... then eventually falling to the ground. You grunt from how annoying the situation has become.

"Ah great... now I'm half the person I used to be..." You partially joked as Homelander picked you effortlessly off the ground before taking you back into the Vought Tower.

"Can you at least tell me why you're taking away my rights as a republican?" You asked with your upper half being carried over his shoulder.

"You don't matter enough to know" He says.

After shooting several finger guns at the horrified employees passing by, you made it back to the office where all of your problems began. You yelp when Homelander just threw your body parts on the sofa, you turn to face him after your efforts to have yourself sit up straight.

"Jeez, you're about as exciting as a stale piece of bread" You said and he takes the sofa in front of you. For a couple of seconds he doesn't say anything but watch you with a stoic expression.

You interrupt the silence with a cough.

Then it's silent again.

.....

Okay this is too boring.

"Could you laser me again for entertainment—? Since you're such a buzz kill it can't be hard" You asked but he stays quiet, not saying anything to add fuel to your fire of words.

Once you realise what he's doing, you let out a long groan.

"Where's my Katana? I might as well just kill myse—"

"How are you not worried about all of this?" He interrupts you and your body freezes in place just as you're about to reach for your weapons.

"How is it that everyone's going through a fucking crisis and you're just... jacking off and watching Netflix series like somebody's drunk unc" He stares at you, slight glimpse of envy shown in his eyes. You scoff out of disbelief before laughing and wheezing uncontrollably.

"Well, unlike some people— UHMUHMyouUHMUHM , I happen to know how to unwind and have fun. Maybe you should try it sometime. Might loosen that stick up your ass" You shoot him a smile and you could feel your powers growing back the bottom half of your body.

He snarls at you.

"I'm the Homelander. I'm the strongest being ever. I don't have time to unwind"

"I don't know man what kind of strongest being brags about being the strongest?" You said with your back pressed against the cushion of the sofa, your hand just casually toying with your dagger.

"DON'T YOU—"

Just as he stands up to shout at you with his eyes now glowing red, the door to the office opens and you both turn to see it's Sister Sage. She looks at you, somewhat an unsurprised reaction to your torn off body parts.

"Great, at least you're not off running to harass another important client of ours"

"Are we done?" Homelander stands near her, clearly fed up with the time he's spent with you so far.

You groan but this time purposely making it known to everyone in the room.

"Great, now there's two people pinning against me. You know... it wouldn't hurt to tell me what your plan is. Maybe I can help!" You said, putting up your most charming smile.

Sister Sage stares at you... more like judging you but then she had a look of epiphany.

"Actually... hearing you say that... you could be useful... if we can get you to start a hate campaign towards the Starlighters. This could make my part with Firecracker so much easier. And besides! Incels LOVE you. You've practically obtained the based persona. You're the perfect mascot" She said, her eyes sparkling as she's clearly brainstorming now.

Homelander stands there, a plastic grin on his face while he has both his fists placed on his hips.

"What?" He says, his eery grin still on his face. You laugh as you crossed your... baby legs?

"You hear that Johnny? People LOOOVEEE me..." You bragged which instantly ticked him off

"Listen up, you walking STD. The ONLY thing that people love about you is your annoying, obnoxious, unfunny fuck of thinking you're gods gift to comedy"

"Well I did make that comedy christmas movie with Maeve. Rest in peace that poor soul, it's like I can still hear her in my nightmares" You said while pretending to wipe away a tear. He rolls his eyes at you and Sister Sage watches in almost amusement.

Her slight smile making Homelander whip his attention to her immediately.

"Are you fucking enjoying this right now?" He glares and she quickly covers it up with a serious look.

"I'll go prepare the venue" She simply said before walking away. You laugh as you notice Homelander still having that angry look on his face when watching Sister Sage walk away.

"Do you need a snickers little kid? You're not you when you're hunrgy"

⌁ZZZZ⌁

....

"You just had to push my fucking buttons" He said, the red glow in his eyes dimming after lasering a hole through your head. He stares at your corpse that was still for a moment before you flipped him off with both hands.

He rolls his eyes with a defeated sigh before walking out the office.

[The Next Day]

"GOOD MORNING AMERICA!! IT IS ME!! YOUR FAVOURITE SUPERHEROOOOO!!" The crowd goes wild as you make your appearance on stage. Your mic in hand and the other waving at the crowd.

Homelander who's also present at the campaign, watches from the backstage with a stoic expression.

"Now now now! I have been gathered here to talk about the Starlighters! Huh! Yeah?!" You began to shoot finger guns at the crowd when they started booing at the mention of the Starlighters.

"I know!! Terrible people!! Boooo!! Tomato tomato" You chuckled as you walk across the stage.

"I mean how could you cancel the one and only Homelander? He literally has the personality of a wet sock. Dude already has his own demons to battle!! As a matter of fact, what kind of person goes after a father?! It's not our fault your daddy left you Starlight!!" The crowd cheers at your words.

You turn to give Homelander a thumbs up but he just looks at you with an unimpressed look.

The moment your turn of the campaign was over and it was time for Firecracker to do her thing, you happily skipped on your feet to your next destination... but you were soon stopped when you saw Homelander standing in your way. Though it didn't seem to affect at all.

"You should stop frowning if you don't want your face to look like a nut sack" You pat him on the shoulder before walking past him. With your back turned to him, he couldn't help but touch his forehead a bit... then hurrying to catch up to you.

"Where are you going now?"

"Somewhere full of fun that's for sure" You turn the corner and walked a few more before making to your favourite shop.

You stand in front of it while he stands beside you, his expression unreadable.

"A... pet shop?" He was confused but you didn't bother to answer his confusion and decided to just head on in.

He shakes his head out of frustration before entering the place. He's completely frozen in place when he sees you already surrounding yourself with dogs. You laugh almost maniacally as you enjoyed the way the dogs were licking you so joyfully. That was until you notice the way Homelander is staring at you, scorned by your behaviour.

"What? You upset not even dogs love you? God I'm pretty sure not even flies want to come near you" You joked but his attention on you is pulled away when a dog began gnawing at his glove.

He scowls as he decides to move his hand out of the way but the dog ends up jumping on him to try to chew on the glove as if thinking it's a chew toy.

"Nonono— shoo! Go!" He said while sound of your laughter can be heard in the background.

Oh boy...

[The Next Next Day]

How you scored yourself an invite to the Met Gala was unbelievable. But since you were going, Homelander was left with no choice but to accompany you. As you'd expected it, he showed up in his suit. He really doesn't care about this stupid gathering when he has better things to do.

Better things than supervising your ass.

"Make waaaay for your majesty!!" You said loud enough to make your grand entrance known. Cameras all panning towards you in order to take pictures of your outfit.

You were definitely still wearing your iconic red suit but you had worn a sarape over it. As well as a sombrero and the fake moustache to finish the look. And don't forget the guitar now!! Literally nobody knows why you always do shit like this. The theme is literally 'The Garden Of Time'.

"BOOO!!! FUCK YOU DEADPOOL!! YOU'RE A MENACE TO SOCIETY!!" A starlighter said amongst the rest of the protestors. They must have shown up when they heard news of you and Homelander's appearance. You laughed as you waved your hand dismissively at them.

"Oh, come on, don't be so grumpy. I didn't ask to be born this awesome" You said when walking past their group with Homelander following behind you, both hands placed behind his back like he's your bodyguard.

[The Next Next Next Day]

Of course you'd get yourself arrested for doing some crazy shit during the after party. You whine to yourself as you were chained up in the cell. After all you're no regular prisoner but a supe, so they had to treat you like a monster.

Suddenly two armed guards approached your cell, you stared at the cold faces on their faces before inspecting your restraints.

"You know, I always wanted to try bondage, but I didn't think it would be with such an unenthusiastic audience" You said and soon one of them opened the cell to release you from your imprisonment.

You let out a satisfied grunt as you rubbed both of your sore wrists. Just as the two guards left, Homelander came into view. With the annoyed look on his face, you had expected him to at least be happy to see you.

"Why the long face?" You asked when exiting your cell.

"You caused a raid at the after party. What word of do not cause trouble do you not understand?"

"Ahh you people confuse me. Oh Deadpool please rile up the Starlighters! No Deadpool don't punch the Starlighter for spilling your drink on you! Pick a side goddamn it!" You said changing your voice each time when imitating a person.

Homelander rolls his eyes at your attitude.

"I can't wait for this to be over with" Homelander murmured and began walking away. You didn't wait for a second to pass before chasing after him.

"Hey now! I'm literally your only friend left! Maeve got blown into Christmas dust, Noir became jello, The Deep... eh... he's still pretty balls deep inside an octopus, A-Train is busy being in his redemption arc. And Starlight? To be honest I never considered her apart of our friend group" You whispered the last part as though you were gossiping, which you were in the case.

"Lucky me" Homelander said in the most monotone voice it was hard not to miss the absent of emotions in his eyes.

"You're welcome bestie!! #2 bestie though because I've just became friends with Espresso lady last night" You said and quickly took your stuff back from the officer to show the picture of you and Sabrina Carpenter on your phone.

"Ugh..." Clearly not interested, Homelander left you behind but you could care less as you ended up bragging it to the poor police officer just trying to do his job.

[The Next Next Next Next Next Day]

Of course you're a supe so 99% of your job is to have fun while the 1% of your job is saving lives. You laughed as you fought with the group of thieves inside the crowded casino. A feet away stood, you guessed it, Homelander watching with his arms crossed. It looked more like he wanted this to be over with than be concerned for the safety of the civilians.

"Man this place looks great! How did I never knew of this part of the city?" You said looking around the interior design after effortlessly dodging the man's knife which you simply twisted in his hands to stab it right through his chest.

"Can you get away? I'm trying to win here" An old granny spoke when pushing the dead corspe off the gambling machine.

"Oooo... what's this?" Your eyes went wide in awe as you watched her repetitively tap on the button. Years of your life and you never thought of such a divine invention.

"FUCK YOU!!" A thief jumped off a table and onto your back, his knife in hand as he continously stabbed you on the chest.

"Why is it always the bad guys with the lousy gambling habits? Seriously, I could be playing poker right now, and instead, I'm stuck here whooping your asses" You whipped out your gun and shot the man in the face, his grip on you loosening as he falls to the ground.

Clearly knowing they have no chance in winning, they quickly ran but you simply shot each of them from the back until the very last one. With the dead bodies splattered across the casino floor, you spin your pistol around to blow the hot smoke from it.

"They don't call me Deadpool for nothing. Get it? Cause' Dead... pooool" You laughed when motioning at the pool of dead bodies on the ground that some of the bystanders watching and hiding were scared of what to do at the moment.

They also don't call you the insane member of The Seven for nothing.

[The Next Next Next Next Next Next Day]

You yawned with your back pressed on the sofa while Homelander was pretty much glaring daggers down at you. That's because you decided to make yourself feel homey in his room. With how good the leather felt— how could you not?

"Hey Ryan!" You waved at Ryan who awkwardly stops at the mention of his name.

"Hey..." He waves back at you with a nervous smile before hurrying up the stairs.

Even with Homelander pretty much wanting to kill you right now, you still had the mood to stretch all over his sofa. You grunt at the bliss of the feeling. The feeling of relaxation.

"Maaaan! I haven't gotten to rest for the past few days. Makes me wish I was born a rock"

"Why are you even in my room?" He asks, his voice so piercing.

"Eh... Ever head of a sleepover? Don't you wanna put on face masks together and do each other's nails? We ARE besties aren't we? #2 bestie though since Espresso lady—"

"Enough! GET OUT!!" Suddenly he lifts you up and threw you out the window. Ignoring the sounds of screaming and car alarm blaring, he sat down on the sofa with his eyes closed.

Finally... some peace...

[The Next Next Next Next Next Next Next Last Day]

With the responsibility of needing to follow you around to make sure you didn't intervene with Sister Sage's plan, he was starting to lose his sanity, or what's left of it. He sits in his chair with the rest of the members. Apparently you had called for a meeting and you had to specify that it was an important one. About what? Nobody knows.

"Where is Deadpool?" Firecracker asked since everyone had been waiting for almost an hour now. But just as she said that, you arrived, multiple puppies in your arms.

"Hellooooo! Thank you for waiting for me!! I had to drop by the pet shop to adopt these little devils" You said as you handed one to each of them.

"Ooh puppies!" Black Noir said happily when accepting one from you.

"Can you hurry up?" Sister Sage spoke up with the puppy in her hand playfully biting her fingers.

"Yeah yeah don't rush me, don't you know how to respect your elders?" You stood at the center in front of them. Before starting you made sure to clear your throat very thoroughly. All expected you to be serious about what you had to say but suddenly you balled your fists together with your effort of making puppy dog eyes.

"Pleasepleaseplease let me have my freedom back!! I swear I'll be good!!" You begged and Homelander practically stared at you while not giving much care of the puppy gnawing at his glove.

"You know you wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't been constantly breaking all the ties we have with other companies!! Do you know how helpful it could have been if you didn't pull that stunt at the met gala's after party?" Sister Sage said, expressing her frustration towards you but you waved her off dismissively.

"Okay but seriously guys, I appreciate the whole 'let's babysit Deadpool since they're a walking disaster' routine, but it's getting a bit old. I mean, come on, I've been doing the whole vigilante thing for a while now and nobody ever had a problem with it! I was even the host for MTV 2020!!"

"Which they banned you after because you exposed every celebrity there!"

"Not my fault that Ryan Reynolds had a thing for me"

You sighed.

"I'm starting to think you hate me Sage"

"Oh wow I wonder why"

"Nonono it's because I'm so smart that you can't even predict my next moves!!"

"Or maybe, you make the dumbest decisions that even I can't predict them!!"

"Oh please! I'm the Picasso of poor decisions! It's an art form! The only thing predictable is my ability to be unpredictably unpredictable"

Suddenly all attention turned to Homelander the second he let out an annoyed sound.

"... you know what? Fine. Go do your own thing. Bother someone else who gives a shit" He said waving you off and you jumped happily in the air. At the same time, Sister Sage looked at him in disbelief.

"You know they're gonna get in the way of our plans right?"

"Do you wanna babysit them?" He asks which made her stay quiet and simply lean back into her chair.

All of them watched as you happily skipped your way out of the meeting room. As expected, for the next few days you created more problems for everyone to deal with, first you created a line of Deadpool-themed lingerie which the manufacturing had to be shut down because the company you worked with were selling it using fake products, it was so bad that it had influencers calling you out for it.

Then there was the thing where you hired a bunch of hackers to loop baby shark on every TV in America. That nearly got you arrested but Vought being Vought, they managed to bail you out. If it didn't get worse, you also went ahead spraying neon red on the Statue of Liberty and for some reason replaced all billboards with ads featuring a fake upcoming movie called "Deadpool: The Musical".

During those same days, you were away most of the time so when you came back to Vought to find Homelander in his wrecked up room. You decided to sit down beside him on the floor. Everything was destroyed, even the TV screen was smashed but yet it was still playing. You could care less on why he did it. All you cared about was your hungry stomach right now.

"Chimichangas?" You said, offering him one. He looks at you with a blank expression... before taking one and eating it himself.

Eventually you two enjoyed the food peacefully while you leaned your head on his shoulder, a smile on your face and a scowl on his.

[dovveri]

in my head

synopsis: you're paired with your crush and resident popular girl on campus for a project for the rest of semester

warnings: maybe a swear word or two

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE REQ IM SORRY TO THAT ANON who requested this and also sorry it took me so long to get around to this i just couldn't think of anything to write bcs i alr did the nerd momo x popular reader fic and i fear this trope is too overdone for sana so... there is nothing rly original here LOL i stroogled i lwk wish i did not fill this req bcs i hate this fic HAHHA i gotta learn to say no ><

༺☆༻

“alright class, pair projects for this semester will be randomly assigned.”

there are collective groans from around the room but you only pray that you get a partner who knows what they're doing. you didn't really have a problem doing group assignments all on your own, it was better quality that way anyway, but it'd be nice if someone else could contribute a little every once in a while.

"check your emails for who your partner is. please get acquainted and exchange contact details before next week."

everyone quickly pulls out their phones, laptops, or whatever device they use during class, you follow along, logging in and scrolling to find the correct email.

minatozaki sana.

before you can even conjure up the thought oh shit she's skipping up to your table with a bright smile.

"hi! y/n?"

you sputter, unable to look at her, choosing to fiddle with your screen and panic scroll through random weather predictions and calculator apps. yes, plural, apps.

she's hard to ignore though, bending down and tilting her head so you're forced to look at her. when she catches your eyes she smiles again, "we're working together on the project this semester."

"u-uh y-yeah i s-saw."

"mhmm. wanna exchange numbers now?"

"oh! right yes of course sorry." you fumble, handing your phone to sana. she giggles, taking it from your hand and replacing it with her phone.

"cute background."

"oh that's- i'm not-"

"it's okay y/n. i'm a closet glee fan too." she winks at you, handing back your phone with exceptional speed.

you curse under your breath, quickly typing your number in and handing her phone back, thinking about the brittana wallpaper you have set on your homescreen. why did you have to be such a nerd?

"thanks! i'll text you later and we can meet up sometime this week to talk about the project?"

"y-yep. that sounds g-good."

she smiles that bright, blinding smile again, turning with a flourish and skipping over to her friends.

you were so fucked.

༺☆༻

minatozaki sana was the most popular girl on campus. captain of the cheerleading team, notorious for her ditzy charm and line of admirers. girls like that weren't exactly the type to be top of the class or put much effort into their studies. they were already guaranteed shoo-ins at major marketing or HR firms that liked pretty faces to hike in business, if they weren't already signed to modelling or acting gigs that was.

it also didn't help that you were at the wee end of her long, long line of admirers. you hadn't intended to fall for her. you knew it was completely unrealistic, you'd bet she didn't even know your first name until she got paired with you. so you knew what you were getting into when you first started paying a little more attention to her in class, noticing small things about her like the way she'd scrunch her nose when she was confused or didn't know how to do a question, or the way every time she'd get even remotely excited her left foot would start tapping, like a puppy wagging it's tail when it gets excited. you couldn't help but notice these things and who could you blame? it was minatozaki sana, you certainly weren't the first to fall for her charms, just definitely the most unlikely to actually end up with her.

so it was fine that you were paired up. totally fine. you didn't mind putting in the extra academic work if it meant you didn't have to speak to sana or even mildly interact with her. you were fine doing everything on your own so that she, or god forbid, any of her popular clique would never be able find out about your embarrassingly impossible crush for sana.

santana💜: hi! is this y/n?

you blink down at your phone. this was not who you thought it was. there was no way.

y/n: who's this?

santana💜: im sana! i named myself santana in ur phone bcs of ur brittana wallpaper ;) yk... ur brittany bcs ur a secret genius and im santana bcs... well our names are kinda similar!

y/n: oh... haha right. yeah this is y/n

santana💜: would u be free to come over tmr? to get a headstart on the assignment? or i can go over to urs instead if u want :)

y/n: oh it's fine sana u don't have to pretend to do anything. idm doing the whole thing and submitting for both of us i won't tell the teacher dw

santana💜: what?! who do u think i am y/n?! im not just going to let u do the whole thing on ur own! come to mine 8pm tmr ok? i'll text u the address later

you stare down at your phone. okay so that plan wasn't going to work. you could be cool though. this would be fine. totally fine.

y/n: ok

༺☆༻

you knock on the door of the address sana gave you after her cheer practice. you had spent the past day overthinking exactly what was going to happen, whether or not sana really did want to contribute or if she was still just doing this for show. or if something even more sinister was planned, probably not by sana, but you'd seen some of the people she hung out with, you wouldn't put it past them to go back to their high school bully ways and pull a prank on a nerd like you, even at their adult age.

but when sana opens the door with a beam, her smile is bright and seems devoid of any hidden intentions. you honestly feel a little bad that you had doubted her when she's looking at you like that. but you remind yourself that sana was just that sweet of a person, she looked at everyone like that, you weren't special.

you cough awkwardly, offering a polite smile and stepping in.

"my housemates are out tonight so we have the whole place to ourselves."

"oh cool."

"do you want anything to drink?"

"just water would be great thanks."

"you can go ahead to my room. it's the second door on the right. the bathroom's right opposite it as well if you need to go or anything. i'll be with you in a sec." she smiles at you again, going off towards the kitchen to prepare some snacks and your water.

you tentatively step further into her home, feeling very out of place, but also curious at the pictures and trinkets everywhere, your first glance into sana’s real life.

you follow her directions, walking towards her room and stepping inside, not really surprised at the pink-tone hues that greet you.

sana’s room is cute. she has polaroids and film prints of her and various friends and family hung up next to her bed, a pinboard with small reminders decorated with stickers and more pictures, posters stuck up with and fairy lights strung across various surfaces.

“sorry it’s kinda messy. i haven’t cleaned in a little.”

you turn at the sound of her voice, suddenly finding her much less intimidating in her pink fluffy slippers, suddenly she just seemed like another girl, not the person on the pedestal that you, and most of the campus put her up to be.

you smile, genuinely this time albeit still a little awkward, “it’s fine. i don’t think it’s messy at all, i like it, it’s cute.”

“really? you don’t think it’s childish or anything?” sana pouts slightly as she settles a tray of snacks and water on the table next to her bed and then sits down, shuffling the various amount of japanese plush toys around.

“not at all.”

she grins then, gesturing for you to sit.

you follow suit, crossing your legs and sitting on the floor, taking out your laptop and papers from class. “so have you had a chance to read over the assignment brief yet? it’s okay if you haven’t, i was honestly surprised you asked to meet up so early, technically the only assignment for this week was to exchange contact details.”

sana slides down so she’s on the floor next to you, knees touching, you don’t see it because you’re focused on the fact that your skin was now touching and she was close enough for you to smell her designer perfume, but she pouts before speaking, “do you seriously think i’m just some slacker y/n? i asked to meet up because i wanted to get this assignment out of the way while it’s still early in the semester. before things get busy and we both get swamped with our other classes.”

“o-oh right i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to… well yeah anyway... so i was thinking-"

"you totally thought i was a slacker didn't you?" you can't ignore her when she peeks around to eye you.

"i- well-"

"it's okay. most people think we're all just bandwagoners and yeah i admit i know some of the people i may be... affiliated with are those types of people, but i'm here because i wanted an education and i'm serious about it. so don't try and do all the work on your own okay? we'll split it evenly."

you're more than embarrassed now. you had boxed sana into a stereotype that she was obviously aware of and actively against. “right i’m so sorry oh my god- i didn’t mean to- i-“

she laughs then, hitting your shoulder playfully, your skin burns at the contact, “it’s okay y/n! you’re adorable. thanks for wanting to do everything at first but i can handle my own and i won’t let you down!”

you blush, looking back down to your papers but comprehending none of the words on it. "right. i'm sorry again... and thank you." you manage to mumble out.

sana giggles internally, finding you very cute. and she loved cute things as evidenced all over her room.

༺☆༻

the following weeks you start spending a lot more time at sana's place, to the point where you've met all her roommates and their partners, and it doesn't feel weird for them to see you around the house. it was a pretty rigorous assignment and it involved a lot of hands-on research and time dedicated to it.

you're still complete strangers at school though, sana was still the popular it girl, always surrounded by groups of people, while you were the nerdy nobody.

so it definitely comes as a shock when sana slides into the seat across from you while you're eating your lunch peacefully alone in the cafeteria, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok.

your eyes almost bulge out of your head when you look up and see her bright smile, scrambling to make space for her and take your airpods out, almost knocking your juice popper off the side of the table in the panic.

"s-sana! what are you doing here?!" you're pulling the straps of your bag towards you so it's no longer occupying the table space opposite you, that obviously meant that spot was occupied, a cue sana chose to cheerily ignore.

"just saw you eating alone and wanted to join you!"

"o-oh. you don't have friends waiting for you?"

she shrugs, plucking a fry off your plate, "not really."

you shrink into your seat as you feel the eyes of the cafeteria land on you and sana, whispering and pointing at you. you’ve never wished more for the floor to swallow you up than in this moment.

“so i was thinking-“

“sana! what are you doing here?”

oh no. you did not need any more attention on you right now. least of all from park jihyo, student council president, and kim dahyun, student council treasurer, both of whom were on the same level of popularity as sana with just as many admirers.

jihyo slides in right next to you while talking across to sana, dahyun happily greeting sana and sliding in next to her with her lunch tray.

“jihyo! dahyunnie! i thought you both had a student council meeting right now?”

“got postponed. our secretary fell sick and we can’t proceed without her so we just decided to wait until she got better.”

they fall into easy conversation while you shrink even further into yourself, squeezing your arms into your sides so you’re not made known to the other two who still haven’t acknowledged your presence.

“ugh practice was such a drag today.” yoo jeongyeon slides in next to you, still in her lacrosse uniform, throwing an arm over your shoulders without seeming to realise who you were. you flinch at the action.

this was so not happening to you right now.

hirai momo slides in next to sana, eyes trained only on her tray as she mumbles a greeting with her mouth full with food already.

oh good lord what did you do to deserve this?

at least you’d met momo before since she was one of sana’s roommates but she still only really knew you as ‘sana’s project partner’. the others you’ve only seen from afar, and until now you were half-convinced they weren’t really real, too far up the social ladder to ever be associated with the likes of you. jeongyeon was the star lacrosse player and team captain of your school, which was renowned for it’s lacrosse team. hirai momo was apparently roped into playing lacrosse but really excelled in the world of dance. apparently she’d already had experience touring as backup dancers for major hit singers.

jihyo wrinkles her nose, speaking over you to jeongyeon, “yoo jeongyeon you stink. didn’t we allocate an extra $3000 to shower renovations last year? we did not do that so you could continue to sweat all over me.”

jeongyeon sticks her tongue out at jihyo, “i was hungry. besides i’m not sweating all over you. and you don’t mind do you- wait- who are you?”

your eyes widen when you realise jeongyeon’s now addressing you, and then suddenly the entire table’s eyes are on you.

you feel your face going bright red, coughing awkwardly and staring down at your plate of food. “u-um-“

“this is y/n! she’s my friend!”

you look up to see sana beaming at you.

“oh… how do you guys know each other?”

“we were paired together for that pair project i was talking about- you know for my class about sustainable engineering? momoring knows!”

momo grunts in acknowledgement, offering you a fleeting smile before returning back to her food, not entirely interested with this conversation.

“wait- how does momo know her and i don’t? momo spends all of her time in the dance studio, and if she’s not she’s only ever focused on food!”

“maybe you should be a better student council president and know all your students then hyo.”

im nayeon, co-head cheerleader along with sana, her title alone demonstrating her popularity status, teases jihyo with a grin, standing at the end of the table in her cheer uniform, commanding all attention from anyone who wasn’t already watching your table in curiosity.

“oh shut up nayeon.” but jihyo quickly turns to face you, offering a hand and a bright smile, “hi y/n! it’s nice to meet you! i hope we haven’t been giving you too much trouble.”

you quickly shake your head, taking her hand gingerly, surprised at the strong grip she has.

“momoring and nayeonnie have already met y/n because she’s been over at ours a lot to work on the project together.” sana perks up again, and then looks at you again, not that her eyes have really left you but you didn’t know that, “sorry for all this by the way. my friends are obviously people blind.”

“speak for yourself sana. the amount of times you’ve called out the wrong name in bed-“

sana flushes bright red, shooting up and slapping a hand over nayeon’s mouth while the others crack up in laughter.

"ignore her y/n. she doesn't mean that."

sana smiles through her teeth while nayeon makes muffled sounds of disagreement, and honestly it is a little funny so you can't help but laugh alongside them.

in the end, you don't mind too much that sana's friends invaded your lunch time. they were a lot less intimidating than you had thought they would be, similar to how you had judged sana prior to actually spending any time with her. it was still awkward to feel the eyes of jealous onlookers but sana stealing food off your plate every few minutes and making sure you were included in the conversation was enough to make you feel welcome and ignore those looks.

༺☆༻

"y/n! i got those projections we were talking about last week." sana bounds up to you outside your lecture hall.

"sana? how did you even know i had class at this time?"

"i asked around." she shrugs as if it wasn't a big deal for her to actively be looking for you and for her to know your schedule, "here- what do you think?" she hands over a few documents and you shuffle to the side so students can continue moving in and out. that also meant you were basically boxing yourself into the small corner next to the door with sana blocking your way out. you can feel a few weird glances look your way, wondering how you of all people knew one of the most popular girls on campus.

"it looks good sana."

"great! are we still on for tomorrow night? coach put nayeon and i in charge of practice this week but i may have bribed nayeon into running it herself so we can spend some more time on the project without her nosy self at home."

you nod, handing back her papers, "yeah, i'll be over around 6?"

"sounds good! see you then!" and then she's kissing your cheek and flying off before you can react, your hand coming up to touch where she had pecked you seconds after she's gone.

"-don't know what she sees in them."

"right- you think y/n's paying sana or something?"

"no way sana would do that though. i bet she's just using y/n for help with study or whatever."

"nah i've seen sana's marks, she doesn't need the extra help. maybe she's just toying with y/n. could be a dare or maybe she just has a nerd kink, or wants to try it out once and drop her."

"oh true hahaha i'd almost feel bad for y/n but it is pretty funny watching her prance around sana like she has a chance."

the sounds of laughter drift down the hallway as you stay rooted to the spot, completely invisible to the rest of the student body.

were they right? was sana just pulling you along? fuck you were so stupid. of course she knew you had a crush on her. everyone had a crush on her. you thought you knew sana but now you were starting to doubt your perceptions of her all over again. ugh you couldn't do this. you felt so embarrassed thinking about the amount of time you've spent with sana. all that for her to just be stringing you along, maybe even laughing behind your back with all her friends, you were so stupid for thinking you'd ever move out of your miserable social status. you were at the bottom of the social hierarchy, and she was at the top, it would always be that way, and people at the top don't want anything to do with people at the bottom unless it's for their own benefit or entertainment. sana was not an exception.

༺☆༻

santana💜: hey u still coming over? i maaaay have tried to cook dinner for us both even tho momo always warns me not to step foot in the kitchen and ig she was right this time... so i'll order takeaway? thai food okay?

santana💜: everything okay? sorry if thai food wasnt ur style >< i can order sth else instead but the foods getting cold :((

santana💜: im guessing ur not coming :( hope everythings okay w u!! ill see u at school soon 🥺

༺☆༻

you’ve been trying your best to avoid sana ever since you overheard what those people thought of your relationship with her. it was difficult when she would send you daily texts asking where you were and how you’ve been, even i miss you texts with the little sad face emoticon that had your fingers aching to text her back but you resisted. this was for the best.

but of course as soon as you started avoiding her you also started seeing her around campus a lot more than you used to. she’d pop up everywhere you were, at the library, in the hallways, on the fields, you’d always manage to shy away from her gaze but you don’t think she was doing this on purpose. maybe it was just the fact that because you were avoiding her, you were a lot more noticeable of her presence.

it was hard to keep this up though, especially when the time of the week came that you shared the class you had been assigned project partners in. you had seriously considered faking sick when you woke up in the morning, thinking she could manage class on her own and you’d just email her your parts of the assignment or something. but you got out of bed reluctantly and trudged to class, coming up with as many excuses as possible for having not responded to any of her messages and ditching your last meetup.

you sigh in relief when you walk into class and see that people are still milling about, slowly trickling in, and sana’s seat is still empty. you slink to the back of the classroom, pulling your hood up and turning on your laptop to tap mindlessly at the keyboard, hiding your face behind the screen.

you can hear when the class starts filling up, sliding down further in your chair and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

you can also hear the moment sana walks in, flanked by her friends with that high-pitched laugh and sunshine energy, the class suddenly seems twice as bright as it was. god you missed her. and that was pathetic of you! she didn’t even care about you! you stay resolute in your avoidance, only allowing yourself a second to bask in her voice before closing yourself off again from the outside world.

it’s only when the teacher walks in and starts reading the roll, that you have to squeak out a small ‘here’ when they read out your name. you avoid her gaze when you speak up but you can see in the corner of your eye, sana whips her head around and stares at you with wide eyes, her mouth open in surprise. you shrink back down but she continues to stare at you for a few more seconds before frowning and facing back forward when her name is called out.

you spend the rest of class hiding behind the screen of your laptop, formulating a plan on the fastest way to get out of class once it's over so you don't have to talk to sana.

unfortunately, the teacher seems to have taken notice of your lack of participation, when usually you're the only one in the class who is able to answer their questions, or even mildly paying attention, so you're pulled back when you try to escape, the rest of the class chattering excitedly while leaving class.

"what's wrong y/n?"

"nothing. sorry, just not feeling the best today."

the teacher eyes you, "is the pair project going alright? you didn't sit with sana today."

you gulp, "it's fine."

"are you sure? if sana's making you do all the work you'll tell me won't you?"

your eyes widen, "no! no sana's a sweetheart she-" you catch yourself, sana wouldn't really be a sweetheart if she was playing with you would she? "she's been great, she's contributing and pulling all of her own weight and more. to be honest... i'm probably the one who's not doing my part right now..."

the teacher hums, "alright y/n. let me know if there's anything i can do for you. go home and rest."

you nod, adjusting the straps of your backpack and trudging outside.

only to find sana waiting outside the classroom with her arms crossed, tapping her foot in the way she does when she gets annoyed.

as soon as your outside she doesn't spare you a second glance, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the closest empty classroom and closing the door behind the both of you, standing against it so you have no way of escaping.

"wh- sana! sana what are you doing? i have class!"

"no you don't. the only class you have on wednesdays is the one we share. after that you normally go home or to the library before getting dinner outside."

"what- how do you- have you been stalking me?"

she frowns, "have you been avoiding me?"

"i- what makes you think that?"

"you didn't come last week. and you haven't been answering any of my messages. and i'm not stalking you i just thought we were friends and i like to know my friends' schedules, so when you didn't turn up to any of your usual study spots...i got worried. i thought you were sick or something. but then i saw you at the dessert shop outside the council centre where i volunteer and you didn't look sick at all. in fact, as soon as you saw me you were healthy enough to run off."

you gulp nervously, stepping back, only for sana to step forward. your eyes flit around, looking for any possible exit or distraction, anything would be better than confronting sana right now.

"i just- um- i-"

sana pouts, "did i do something? you'd tell me if i did right?"

"no! you didn't do anything. i just- um-"

she raises an eyebrow. you fiddle with your fingers, unable to look her in the eye.

"w-what do you want with me?"

sana doesn't seem to expect this answer. "what do you mean?"

you sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair, "it doesn't make sense. why would you want to be friends with me? you're popular and smart and beautiful and you don't hang out with people like me."

"is that what this is about?"

"no- well- yes- i overheard the other day, some people talking about how you were only using me or that you didn't have good intentions with me and i just- i didn't know what to do."

"and what do you think?"

you look up at her then, her gaze is steely, there's no hint of her usual smile. "w-what?"

"is that what you think of me? that that's the kind of person i am? that i'd do that to someone?"

you're taken aback, "i- n-no! i-"

"then why did you listen to them? you're not stupid y/n i know you can form your own opinions on people. you're not like the others, or at least i thought you weren't. i didn't think you'd judge people off of what you've heard about them, i thought we were friends y/n."

"i didn't i- we are- i just-"

you take another step back, needing to create distance between the two of you, needing to think without sana's presence making your head all muddy. but with each step back you take, sana takes one forward.

"was there something else? were you looking for a reason to avoid me?"

another step back, another step forward.

"no! i- i didn't-"

"tell me the truth? please?" you're backed into the wall, nowhere left to go, and sana only steps closer. you can feel your heart rate picking up at her proximity, she's looking up at you, puppy eyes and a pout on her lips, you were so weak.

"n-no i don't- there's nothing else-"

"hmm." she's so close you can see the way her eyelashes flutter when she blinks, can feel her breath on your lips.

you can feel how hot your cheeks are, sweat collecting in your clenched fists. she's studying you, eyes flicking over your face, when your tongue pokes out to wet your lips, purely out of habit and stress, her eyes dart down and watch the movement, snapping back up to your eyes once you were done.

and then suddenly, she blinks and there's a change in the atmosphere. there's a curl of her lips, her eyes conveying something you can't quite decipher.

"do you... like me y/n?"

you blush impossibly brighter, "i-i- well- i-"

then her lips are on yours, just the barest brush of her skin against yours, like a sigh against your lips, but when she pulls away, she doesn't go far, her lips still hovering over yours, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

"it's okay if you do."

you're completely dumbstruck, hand twitching, wanting to reach up and feel your lips, to see if this was really happening.

"because i'd be lying if i said i didn't find you attractive."

your mind goes blank, struggling to catch up. "w-what?"

"i don't kiss just anyone. nayeon may have made that comment about how many people i bring home but none of them compare to you. you're different. you don't want me just because i'm pretty and easy."

"i- i-"

she leans in, pecking you softly again, before leaning back fully to give you space, turning on her heel. "think about it y/n. once you have an answer, stop avoiding me. you know where to find me." and then she's stepping outside the classroom, and you feel like you can finally breathe again, letting your brain catch up to what your body just experienced.

༺☆༻

it takes you a few days to fully come to your senses.

sana stops actively searching for you, but you still see her around campus, only she seems to have decided to give you space, not acknowledging you if you saw her in public or walked past her.

so sana obviously knew you liked her. it just didn't make sense that she could like you too. you took days trying to find any way this could've happened, tracing over every interaction you've had with her in your head over and over, trying to find any clues for her feelings towards you.

it crossed your mind briefly that this was another one of her possible ploys to embarrass you. but she was right when she confronted you, you didn't think she was that kind of person, and none of her actions or the time you've spent with her indicated that she was that kind of person, you needed to trust your own eyes and feelings, sana was being genuine.

it just baffled you how this was possibly genuine, how it was possible for sana to like someone like you. and the only way you'd be able to find out was to talk to her.

you inhale, standing outside sana's apartment. you knew momo had dance practice at this time and nayeon had told you she wouldn't be home because she was meeting up with some friends, so it would just be sana at home.

you knock tentatively, stepping back and collecting your thoughts.

it doesn't help though, because when the door opens, all comprehendible thoughts fly out of your mind, replaced with the mental energy required to memorise sana, her hair up in a messy bun, oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, large glasses on, looking like she just woke up from a nap.

sana's eyes brighten when they see you, leaning against her doorframe and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"h-hi sana."

"hey yourself. what are you doing here?"

you take a deep breath. you had prepared for this. "why do you like me?" well that was not what you had prepared.

sana smiles amusedly, "i told you. i like that you see me for who i am rather than who i present myself to be. i think you're very cute, you get along well with my friends, you're incredibly smart, and even though you think a little too much over what other people say, we can work on that."

your eyes widen at her answer.

"it's simple y/n. do you want to be with me or not? don't overthink it. we can work out any issues that come up overtime."

"i..." you look down to your feet, blushing, then looking back up to her, "yes. i do want to be with you."

sana grins then, not missing a beat, swooping in and kissing you gently, tasting of berries and sunshine. when she breaks apart, finally welcoming you into her apartment, she teases, "i finished our project by the way. you owe me. but i'll accept kisses as payment."

you whine, finally letting yourself be free around her, no longer hesitating to do what you've wanted to this entire semester, bring her up into a kiss that hopefully makes up for the utter loser you've been in her presence.

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 8

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He's turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: suggestive

You woke up after an amazing night sleep once again, next to Lando.

Sliding out of bed, you carefully detangled yourself from his arms . You turned when you heard him mumble something in his sleep, making you smile.

You quickly got ready, putting on a comfortable outfit for breakfast, a meeting and the flight tonight. As you were both you leave, getting your stuff together you felt a familiar pair of arms around your waist.

You turned to face him, placing a soft on his lips "I didn't want to wake you" he laughs nuzzling his head into your neck

"Couldn't fall back asleep with the cold space next to me" he smiled, kissing you again, this time letting it linger "You're going to make me late" you laugh trying to pull away

"It's Kika, she'll understand"

You kiss him one more time before grabbing your bag "I will be back soon, enjoy your morning and try get packed"

"Have fun Princess"

You close the door behind you, walking down the steps and out the apartment building. Thankfully it was only a short five minute walk to meet Kika.

When you arrived Kika was already sat at table waiting for you "Good morning, am I late?" you ask sitting you bag down "No you're right on time, Pierre dropped me off when he was heading out. Here's your coffee" she smiles handing you, your drink

"Thank you, are you up to anything today?"

"Going to the gym with Pierre and then going home for a date night before I fly back home tomorrow for a shoot. What about you? Going back the apartment to tell your boyfriend you're in love with him?"

You roll your eyes taking a sip of your drink "Don't get me started" you scoff "What did he do? He's not hard to attack, we can team up" she jokes resting her hands on the table

"As much as I appreciate you for being willing to attack Lando, it's not him. It's Zak. Last night we went for dinner and Zak immediately jumped on it saying he was going to get cameras, Lando said no and hung up the phone on him. He was so frustrated with him, we have a meeting with him later"

"I've never liked that guy, but I do have one question"

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck happened between you and Lando? Last time i checked you were too scared to tell him how you felt now you're going out for dinner with him wanting no camera's there"

"Max, Lando and I's friend came over, Lando and I bunked up and we've had a few kisses, it feels so normal. We haven't exactly spoke about it but I think if we're going at the pace we are, it could possibly turn into a relationship"

Kika smiles nodding “I’m happy for you, really happy. Did you guys get flight’s back home?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving after the meeting, I can’t wait to see his family again. We’re staying with them for a few days”

“Does his family know what’s going on between you two?”

“Nope and when Lando tells them I don’t think they’ll react well. They’ve been hoping for us to get together since we were 14 and when they find out what’s going on is PR”

“But it’s not really PR, everything is real. Right?”

“Yeah, it is”

—

When you arrive back home, you return to see Lando running around the place “What have you lost?” you ask, dropping your bag onto the sofa “My charger, hi baby. How was breakfast” he quickly kisses you before returning to his hunt

“It was good, have you checked if you’ve packed it already?”

“Shit, now i remember packing it” he stops walking towards you, how was your date with Kika?” he asks wrapping his arms around you waist

“Good, have you got your laptop set up for your meeting with Zak?”

“Our meeting baby, our. Yeah it’s set up, Actually we have to get online now, are you ready for this”

“No, the last thing I want to be doing the day after you winning is having a chat with Zak”

Lando nods his head in agreement, sighing walking over to the kitchen counter where his laptop was sat, pulling a chair close to him for you to sit.

“Hey guys, how are you?” Zak asks once connected “Yeah we’re great, how are you?” Lando answers “Good to hear, now I’m not giving you guys into trouble but we need you guys out in public more. We’ve got some photos up on fan pages, gossip pages and news outlets but we need more. What are your guys plans this week?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes off camera. Lando looks at you taking your hand

“We’re heading home, this lovely lady has a meeting in the office tomorrow and we are going to see my parents for a few days-“

“Great” Zak interrupts “We will get photographers at the airport tonight, keep me updated where you are guys”

The call ends suddenly, you walk away from the table annoyed heading to the bedroom “Baby, come on. It won’t be that bad”

“No Lando. Im sick of this. It is hard enough being photographed just for being your friend. Now that I’m your “girlfriend” I am being photographed going to an airport. It’s not even been a week, and as Zak said there’s barely any photographs it’s hell already. I hate this” you rant, sitting on the bed

“I know, I hate it too. But it’s three months like this at least, that’s what the contract said. I’m sorry it’s like this. I promise once this is over you’ll never need to see my face again” he wraps his arm around your shoulder

“You know I would never want that, I just don’t want our lives and time together to be decided by a piece of paper”

“Me either Princess, I love what we have going on so much” he leans in “Me too Baby” you kiss him laying down

He moves on top of you, slowly deepening this kiss, humming as you pulled him closer by the shirt “You are so beautiful” he says between kisses, taking off your shirt

He takes his shirt off throwing it on the ground “Lan” you breath “Don’t stop”

He grabs your arms, pinning them above your head as he kisses down your neck.

He stop when his phone rings louding, groaning as he answers “What do you want Max?”

“I was kinda in the middle of something” he answers Max’s question, pulling you close to him. You kiss his chest, leaning your head on him slowly feeling your eyes close

“Look mate i’m gonna” he looks down at you, now asleep nuzzling in closer to him “I’ll call you back later” he whispers hanging up the phone

“I’m so in love with you” he says once he hears your soft breathing

part 9

TAGS

@harrysdimple05 @ironmaiden1313 @charli123456789 @alltoomaples @jule239 @panicsinvirgo @cmleitora @blueberry64857959 @imboredway2much @landoslutmeout @obxstiles @morenofilm @formula1mount @dreamercrowd @brekkers-whore @sialexia @bokutos-babyowl @wobblymug @merchelsea @lexiecamposv @lunamelona @nightlockcornucopia

[sinswithpleasure]

Bucket List Interlude — Five.Six [Queen & Princess]

—-----------—

Proud to release my second (technically first, but our actual second released first) collab with @co-reborn set in the Bucket List universe.

Enjoy this (mostly unedited) little gift before NNN.

—-----------—

[Im Squirtle has sent a message:]

Oi, Pervert.

Let's try something new later on.

I know you’ll like it too

Head to the audi after your class ends

Come over quick :)

—-------

You keep your books in the locker once you’re done for the day. With these types of Nayeon texts, you know you're definitely not studying for the next few hours. 

You shuffle past the crowd of students heading to their next class as you make your way to the auditorium. There shouldn’t be anyone using it at this hour, so why would she ask you…?

With the door to the auditorium right in front of you, you reach for the handle. The door swings open smoothly, and as expected, it is empty, lights off. You step in and place your bag onto one of the chairs, before grabbing your phone from your pocket. 

[To: Im Squirtle]

I'm here, where ar |

In the middle of typing your message, the lights switch on. First, the room is dimly lit, but it begins to brighten slowly. You look around, and that's when you spot Nayeon at the bottom, on the stage. You scan her outfit—open blouse paired with a bright pink crop top, hearts and lines and other designs printed on the cloth,  coupled with jeans, deliberately left open and rolled around her waist. Cute pigtails, by far your favourite style on her, steel rimmed glasses perched atop her nose, and a loose tie hanging around her neck.

She looks like a star. Maybe in another world…

"Yah, Pervert!" Nayeon waves enthusiastically, the brightest grin across her ethereal features. Even at the bottom of the auditorium, you're blown away by her beauty. Not that it's a surprise any more, but her beauty is definitely one of a kind. 

"Say hi to our junior!"

Behind her, another girl steps out. You wonder how you haven't noticed her hiding behind Nayeon.

"Eh, Shin Yuna?"

Shin Yuna—the next Queen of Seoul U, currently nicknamed "Princess". You've seen her around a lot—it's quite hard not to notice the other beauty of Seoul U. Nayeon is easily #1, but Yuna's a damned close second, and she'll ascend the ranking once Nayeon graduates, you're sure of it. 

"Hi, Oppa."

"Come down! Come say hi!"

You oblige, and take quick steps down. At the bottom, you awkwardly nod towards the younger girl, causing Nayeon to giggle. She steps closer to her "successor" and lightly grabs her shoulders. 

Peeking from the side, she asks, “What do you think of her?”

You gulp. You can’t deny Yuna’s beauty. “Yeah… she’s pretty.”

Nayeon then steps behind Yuna before running her hands over her chest. The younger girl visibly tenses up, even more so when Nayeon begins to pop open the buttons on her blouse. 

“I, for one, think she’s beautiful.” 

The white top is pulled open, Yuna's bare breasts now exposed for your viewing pleasure. Nayeon lightly kneads the soft flesh of Yuna’s breasts, eliciting light gasps from her. Her hands continue to move down Yuna’s body down to her hips, halting at her tight abs to run circles atop the defined muscles. 

"She's got such a perfect body, doesn't she?"

Nayeon gives Yuna a soft kiss on the cheek, before she licks a long stripe from the younger's shoulder up to her left ear. Reaching her skirt, Nayeon undoes the clasp and zipper at the back, a small push all it needs for the cloth to fall down her long legs, leaving the girl in white panties. You stare at the big damp spot right at the crotch of her underwear, and you gulp as your cock twitches beneath your pants.

"Go on, tell Oppa what we're doing today."

Nayeon's hands roam Yuna's body again. Her fingers ghost over the younger's smooth milky skin again, paying special attention to her nipples. 

"Ngh…"

"Come on, Yuna-ya~"

Nayeon's fingers softly knead the soft flesh of Yuna's nubile body, her fingers expertly drawing the primal lust out of Yuna. You can't help but watch as Nayeon literally plays with the new toy in her hands, Yuna having all but submitted willingly to her senior. 

"Oppa…"

Yuna's call dripped pure sex. You couldn't help the rush of primal lust at her moan, and as Nayeon slides her fingers underneath the waistband of Yuna's panties, you wish you were the one in Nayeon's place instead.

"Mmh, Daddy, she's so wet, oh my God."

Yuna's loud moan paired with the buck of her hips is all you need to know that Nayeon has penetrated her with her long fingers.

"Yuna-ya, go on, tell Oppa what you're here for."

"Oppa… mmgh—I…"

"I…?" Nayeon prompts.

"I'm—ohGod—I'm here to, fuck, I'm here to…"

Yuna shudders, her words temporarily halted by the waves of pleasure that wrecks her body with Nayeon's fingers deep in her. 

"Oppa, I'm here to have sex, Oppa, I'm here to have sex with you and Nayeon-unnie, please… please take care of me, please…"

"That's right Daddy, Yuna's here to join us today."

Nayeon withdraws her fingers from Yuna, who moans at the loss of contact. Her fingers are drenched—not one inch of her middle and ring fingers, as well as the surrounding skin, is dry. Strands of slick cling to Nayeon's skin as she plays around with it, and she giggles. 

"Ehe, Yuna-ya, you're so wet…"

She holds her fingers in front of the younger bunny's lips. Yuna takes it in without any hesitation, tasting her own pussy off her unnie's fingers.

"Good girl." Nayeon strokes the younger girl's hair. She melts under her unnie's touch and praise, and the smile across her face widens when Nayeon kisses her cheek.

"Sit back and relax Daddy, I'm going to show you how our good girl cums under my touch."

Nayeon smirks at you when you curse under your breath. You're so fucking hard—a tent has formed under the zipper of your jeans, and you've had to undo your pants so you could be more comfortable. Yuna's eyes are locked on to your bulge, and she stares with dripping lust.

"Daddy, Yuna wants to see that cock. Show her what you'll be fucking her with?"

Phrased like that, there's no way you'd say no. You undo the button and zipper, then reach beneath the waistband of your briefs to fish out your hard shaft, exposing yourself to the younger bunny. Yuna's gasp is all it takes to stoke your ego—you look up to see Yuna's eyes fixated on your hard cock, but what seals the ego boost is Nayeon's hand back to rubbing Yuna's clit, and you watch in slow-motion as Yuna's pussy drips, wetting the floor with her lust. 

"Isn't it big, Yuna? That's the cock that fucks my pussy. Daddy always fills me up so well…"

"Hngh—!"

Yuna chokes back a moan as Nayeon penetrates her again. This time, her knees buckle when Nayeon's skilled fingers glide between her drenched walls, and you watch as Nayeon curls her fingers within Yuna as she thrusts in and out of the younger girl's pussy. 

"Doesn't it feel good, Yuna? You're doing so well for me, so well for us. Look at your Oppa, look at how hard he's jerking his cock for you."

You're unable to resist the urge—the sight of Nayeon masturbating Yuna might be one of the hottest sights of your entire sex life so far in college. Yuna can't tear her eyes off your cock, and similarly, you can't tear your eyes off Nayeon's fingers plunging deeply into Yuna's cunt as well, her other hand firmly kneading the younger girl's right breast, fingers tweaking her nipple. The wet sounds of Nayeon fingerfucking Yuna echoes around the empty auditorium, and so do her moans. Yuna's lustful, sultry moans go straight down to your cock, and you take a bit of time to spread the beads of precum at your tip all over your cock.

"Oh, Yuna-ya, come on, moan louder. Let Oppa hear how much you want him.”

Yuna moans softly, her words muffled. Nayeon tuts disapprovingly.

“No, no, louder. Oppa wants to hear you. Let everyone hear you.”

"—ppa, Oppa, Oppa, Oppa~!"

Yuna’s broken moans go straight to your cock, and you have to pinch the head to resist the urge to cum. Her high-pitched whines for you have you nearly blowing your load, and you’re not about to cum before she does—you want to watch her come undone right in front of your very eyes. The wet sounds of Nayeon’s fingers thrusting deep into Yuna’s cunt get louder, and stray droplets of Yuna’s slick fly off Nayeon’s knuckles. The younger girl in question is breathless, her eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure wracks her body. Nayeon’s hot breath brushes against her ear, whispering pure filth to push her closer and closer.

“That’s right, you’re doing so well Yuna, Oppa’s so happy watching you. Look, look at how hard he’s jerking, look at how hard and wet his cock is…”

“Oppa~!”

“Imagine how good you’d feel with Oppa’s cock fucking this tight cunt of yours.”

“Yes, yes, YES!”

“Mm, go on, think about how big the stretch is, think about how good it’d feel when he empties his balls deep in your cunt.”

“Oh my God, Unnie, Nayeon-unnie, I’m—I’m gonna cum, I’m—!”

Everything seems to move in slow motion—Yuna’s loud cry of pleasure, her back arching, her body shuddering, her knees buckling. You gasp as a huge gush of squirt splashes all over the stage, and your eyes widen in shock as Yuna's gushes keeps on going. She doesn't orgasm in bursts like Nayeon does—with every buck of her hips, the stream only seems to get stronger as she cums in one continuous gush. Yuna thoroughly showers the stage with her cum, almost as if she is urinating. It overflows down over the fake plant boxes below, and that's when the stream tapers off, and Yuna collapses backwards against her Nayeon-unnie, sweaty, exhausted, but blissed out.

"You came so much, baby… such a good girl~."

Nayeon raises her fingers to her eyes, and she admires the glossy sheen of Yuna's slick and squirt covering her fingers and her palm. Her eyes glint in satisfaction, and she licks the stray droplets of cum that run down her arm, all while she stares deep into your eyes. Her next action is to wave her fingers in front of Yuna's lips. 

"Have a taste, baby."

Yuna obliges, her lips wrapping around Nayeon's digits. 

"Good girl."

The praise draws something out of Yuna, something more submissive, more eager. You watch as her eyes soften, and she becomes more pliant, more obedient. She sucks on her Nayeon-unnie's fingers, her hand holding her unnie's at the wrist to steady it as she licks it clean of her cum, all while Nayeon praises her with every swipe of her tongue. Yuna seems to beam under the praise, and you watch breathlessly as you take note of this new information. 

"Did I do good, Nayeon-unnie?"

"I think you did a very good job, baby. How about you, Oppa?"

You rise to your feet and smirk. 

"I think you've been a very good girl, Yuna."

The younger girl beams tiredly, the blush evident across her face. She squeezes her legs together unknowingly, a fact that doesn't escape Nayeon's and your notice. 

"Do you want a break, baby?"

"Yes, please, unnie."

"Mm…

“Take your break, Yuna. Sit right here so you can get a good view of how Daddy fucks me.”

Your cock is desperately aching for action at this point, and you hastily respond to Nayeon’s words. You take off your pants before hopping onto stage and moving towards her. She kisses you harshly and pulls you closer into her. Both your hands work instinctively on undressing each other. You push the blouse off her shoulders while she works on the button on her jeans. You break the kiss momentarily to remove your shirt and her crop top, before immediately diving back into her mouth. You feel up each other’s body, your hands choosing to fondle her tits while she focuses on your abs. Heat builds up between both of you, and the kiss intensifies until she cannot take it anymore. 

When Nayeon pulls away from you, you begin to plant a trail of kisses down her neck, shoulders and chest until you reach her waist. With the button undone already, you simply pull it down her legs. Nayeon is just left standing on stage in her ruined panties. A touch on her inner thighs is enough to make her shiver. You then pull down her panties and expose her dripping pussy for you and Yuna to see. The confident Nayeon from moments ago fades away, replaced by a quivering mess in need of you. You move behind her and push her closer towards the younger girl, fingers rubbing across her nether lips a few times before they dive into her pussy. She leans on your chest as her legs lose their strength. Her walls tighten around you and you feel more of her juices staining your fingers. You withdraw your fingers and hold them in front of Nayeon, and she licks it up without hesitation. Yuna looks in awe as the Nayeon she’s familiar with is stripped away, replaced with a Nayeon utterly overwhelmed with lust. 

When she’s done cleaning your fingers, she looks over her shoulder to face you, whispering, “Fuck me hard, Daddy. Let’s give our good girl a show.”

You oblige, hurriedly bringing your shaft by her entrance. Slick immediately stains your tip as you make first contact with her pussy, and Nayeon’s body reacts to you immediately. She sinks herself backwards on your shaft and takes in the first few inches of your cock. With her snug flesh already clenching around you, you can’t help but to thrust your hips to insert the rest of your length into her.

The instant you’re hilt deep, three moans ring across the auditorium—yours, Nayeon’s and Yuna’s. Having watched the two girls indulge in sin earlier, it’s about time for you to have your own fun. Familiar with Nayeon’s body, you begin to pound and use her without hesitance. She’s quickly reduced to a mumbling and cursing mess, unable to form coherent words other than “Fuck!” and “Daddy!”. 

You briefly look over Nayeon’s shoulder to see the younger girl’s reaction. Yuna’s eyes quiver, yet they remain laser-focused on your cock and Nayeon’s pussy. She’s biting down on her finger, saliva beginning to pool and seep out the corner of her mouth. Her other hand gently works between her legs, seeking out the pleasure she was bestowed by her unnie earlier. 

You’re glad she’s enjoying the show, but what about the main actress?

Leaning over to her shoulder, you sigh, “You naughty slut. You want to be watched getting fucked so bad that you brought someone, mm?"

“Yes, Daddy, yes, I did—mmgh!”

Nayeon's admission amidst loud moans of pleasure has you fucking her harder.

"Fuck, yes, fuck, Daddy, you—hngh~!—feel so good inside me!"

While Nayeon takes your cock, you're more than aware of the younger girl paying her full attention to the erotic scene in front of her. An idea pops into your head, and you pause for a split second, to Nayeon’s disappointment, and wrap a hand underneath her thighs. Lifting it up, you give Yuna a clearer view of your cock spearing Nayeon’s pussy. 

“Unnie, y-you’re so wet.” Yuna's voice is raspy with lust, and you field a glance at the Princess. She has her bottom lip between her teeth, a hand dangerously close to the dripping slit between her legs. You know it's only a matter of time before she breaks.

“Your cute little protege has her eyes glued on you, on your body, on your perfect pussy taking my cock. You like that, hmm?”

A deep moan is all that comes out of her mouth. She’s incapable of thinking, unable to process your words, fully concentrated on you and your cock and how good you’re making her feel. The thought of being watched whilst getting fucked hard all the times you teasingly whispered the possibilities of someone stumbling upon the dirty side of her have always been a turn on. Now, she has made her fantasy become reality—her featured guest sits by the side, having had her own fun, Yuna watches her, stares at her getting pounded hard, and Nayeon gets off from it, more than ever. 

However, Nayeon isn’t the only one enjoying this precarious situation. You’re sure many would kill to be in your position—not only are you a part of Nayeon's closest circle, you're regularly fucking her as and when she wants it. You're even more aware of this now—Nayeon has introduced Yuna to the mix for today, and with her widely reputed to be Nayeon's "successor, she's not unpopular herself. Yet, here you are, with both of them naked, fucking one of them while the other watches. You love it when Nayeon is reduced into this crumbling mess, far from her prim and proper self. This side of her is yours to admire and enjoy, and enjoy it you definitely will. 

You have the perfect view—Nayeon’s body rocks back and forth as you relentlessly pound her, cheeks flushed while she drowns in ecstasy, and from the corner of your eyes, you catch Yuna with her legs spread wide open, fingers driving in and out of herself. You’re immensely turned on, your balls aching and about to explode at any moment, but not yet, your job’s still not done. 

Yuna has her eyes glued to your bodies the whole time, mouth gaped open in awe at how rough you’re being with Nayeon and how well she’s taking it. Heart beating in anticipation, she can’t help but to wonder how good it will be when it’s her turn to be fucked like that. Nayeon did promise her it’ll be mind blowing and she’s now getting a live preview. She subconsciously starts to thumb her clit as well for more pleasure, her gasps growing in volume. “Fuck unnie…”

You lean over and whisper into Nayeon’s ear. “Open your eyes, baby girl. Look at your precious junior.” She barely registers your words and struggles to do so with the immense rush of pleasure in her head. Through half lidded eyes, she sees what you see—Shin Yuna deeply engrossed in the show you’re putting out, her face red, fingers and thighs thoroughly stained with her slick. 

“Look at her. She’s so wet and it’s all thanks to you.”

“M-Me?”

“Yes, you. Such a pretty slut taking cock so nicely. Maybe you should have invited more people to join. Maybe you should've called the entire school to gather here to watch you take this fucking cock like the slut you are.”

The thought of the auditorium filled to the brim with the school population, thousands of eyes watching her true self has Nayeon moaning louder. Maybe that’s what she wants all along. Such wild thoughts continue to fill her head, more ideas of how to push her fantasy further. 

“Cum for me, Nayeon-ah. Let Yuna see how beautiful you can be when you cum.”

Nayeon doesn't last longer than your sentence. With a scream, her legs buckle under the pressure and you hold her up by her hips as you keep thrusting into her orgasming pussy. Bursts of squirt shoot out and make a mess of your bodies and the stage. You persist with your fucking and maintain your thrusts into the tight, sensitive pussy, eliciting moan after moan from Nayeon. The auditorium echoes with her cries—any passerby could easily hear them, check it out and catch the three of you in this illicit act, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment.

A few more pumps into Nayeon later, you tumble out of control and your orgasm hits you. You cum inside her, mindlessly thrusting and burying your load deeper into her pussy until you’re properly drained. Shot after shot of thick cum fills Nayeon's tight pussy, and you pull her close and tight, softly cursing at the pleasure you enjoy right into her ear.

When everything subsides, you hear Nayeon's soft "Thank you, Daddy", and you give her a soft peck on the cheek before pulling out of her. Thick white drops of semen drip out of Nayeon's pussy onto the floor, and Yuna gasps at the sight. Both of you turn to look at the younger girl, and you're both so turned on at the sight that greets your eyes: the Princess of Seoul U is a mess. Yuna is pent-up—she clearly hadn't orgasmed, probably saving herself for the inevitable fucking she knew she'd get. Her eyes burn with lust, chest heaving with every deep breath she takes, nipples taut with arousal. The blush on her face hasn't left, and a puddle of her juices pools between her legs. When she pulls out her fingers from within her, slick drips from her digits onto the stage. 

"Oppa, Unnie… that was so hot…"

Both you and Nayeon admire the sight in front of you for a second more. You're still fully hard, already wanting to fuck Yuna for the first time. However, Nayeon has different plans. 

"Come here, Yuna-ya~"

The younger girl almost lunges for her senior, the desperate look in her eyes akin to that of a feral puppy compared to the bunny she commonly is likened to. She crashes her lips against her senior's, and you swear your cock gets harder watching both women make out with each other. Yuna can't resist kneading Nayeon's breasts, and Nayeon has a palmful of Yuna's plump ass, her fingers kneading the soft flesh. The lustful moans from both girls echo around the empty auditorium, and you can't help but stroke your slick cock in anticipation of what happens next. 

"Mm, Yuna, baby, you kiss so well."

The younger girl only blushes at the praise. She looks down at Nayeon's body shyly, a bright smile across her features.

"I have a little something for you to taste, baby girl~." Nayeon runs two fingers over her pussy, her voice shaking as the pleasure of her own touch creeps into her system. When she retrieves her digits, they're coated in a thick sheen of your semen, and with a push of Yuna's shoulders, the younger girl kneels almost immediately. She looks up, eyes wide in desire, lust, anticipation, and Nayeon gently lowers her cum-soaked fingers to Yuna's mouth. The younger bunny immediately takes them into her mouth, her tongue thoroughly cleaning her unnie's fingers of the mixture of her juices and yours. When the taste hits her, you watch as her eyes roll back and she moans, almost as if your cum was a delicacy. 

"If you want more of Oppa's cum, baby, come eat it out of unnie's pussy."

You're more than happy to put aside your desire to fuck Yuna—the sight of her eating your cum out of Nayeon's cunt is a worthy substitute. The blonde girl looks up at her unnie as her lips get closer and closer to Nayeon's cunt, and Nayeon smiles down at her junior, stroking her hair ever so gently. When Yuna's tongue first touches Nayeon's pussy, the older girl lets out a sultry moan, her hands gripping Yuna's head and pushing her crotch against the younger girl's face. The younger bunny sticks her tongue out and begins to lick along her unnie's slit, and she herself moans when your excess cum drips all over her tongue. It is at that moment where she wraps her lips around her unnie's pussy, and Nayeon throws her head back, enjoying the pleasure of her junior eating her out. Yuna fervently eats your cum out of Nayeon's cunt—when she pulls herself back to catch her breath, your semen and Nayeon's juices stain her lips and chin. 

"Oppa's cum tastes so nice, unnie." Yuna's tongue glides across her lips to collect the mixed fluids across her face, and you bite your bottom lip when she gives you a lustful stare, her eyes lingering especially on your hard cock. She even leans over to lick the precum off your tip, and you curse when she gives you a few strokes along the length with every swipe of her tongue.

"It does, doesn't it?" Nayeon strokes her junior's head, and when Yuna looks up at the both of you again, Nayeon gives her next instructions. "You'll get to taste it again later, baby. Oppa's been waiting so long for that pussy, your tight virgin pussy, and I don't think you should make him wait much longer~."

When Yuna rises from the floor, her eyes meet yours in a blazing gaze of lust. She bites down on her lip, her eyes travelling to your hard, twitching cock and back up, the desperation behind her eyes only further adding to your desire for her. You watch in burning anticipation as the lithe girl in front of you turns around. Your eyes follow her hourglass figure, from the soft curves of her neck to the sharp juts of her shoulders, down her thin waist. You drool at the sight of her hips swaying as she takes steps towards the podium, at the sight of her long legs, and best of all, at her supple ass as she bends over when she reaches her destination. Your eyes immediately lock onto her pussy, drenched and dripping, her thighs glistening with arousal, the floor beneath her wet as well. The killing blow Yuna delivers is through her next few actions—she turns back to you, her puppy eyes pleading with you to finally fuck her, and she spreads her pussy open with her right middle and ring fingers. Fresh slick drips and runs down her skin, along her hand. 

"Oppa, I'm ready for my fucking."

Yuna doesn't expect how quick you can be.

In two steps, you cover the distance between you and her. You grab your cock and aim it right for Yuna's spread hole, and the younger girl squeals in surprise when your pussy breaches the opening of her cunt. Before she can even speak, your hands grip her hips tight, and you send one hard thrust right into her cunt as you pull her right onto your cock, your pelvis slapping right against her ass. 

"OpPAAAA~!"

Yuna cries out when your thick cock stretches her virgin pussy out with your one stroke. You waste no moment—you're already pulling out until your tip is left in her before thrusting back in. As you begin to fuck the younger girl, you forcefully grab her by her face to watch her reaction, and you begin to pound her harder when you see her eyes roll back in pleasure, unintelligible moans echoing around the auditorium with each stroke. 

Yuna's pussy is tight, so damn tight, tighter than Nayeon's. Her walls quiver around your cock, the first she's ever taken, and they squeeze you so perfectly you swear you're in heaven. A rush of slick runs along your cock—did she just have a mini-orgasm or something, you wonder—and her body shakes as she attempts to take deep breaths. You knock the air out of her with every thrust you send into her, each stroke ending with you hilted deep in her, just like how you'd fucked Nayeon earlier. Yuna takes it all—she wants it, needs it just as much as you do.

"Oppa, Oppa, Oppa!!!!" Yuna can't stop repeating the word like a mantra—she can't seem to remember anything else. 

Next to both you and Yuna, Nayeon has her fingers in her pussy again, fucking herself at the sight of you railing Yuna. Your semen drips from her fingers as she plunges then into her cunt over and over, her free hand kneading her own breasts for pleasure. She moans just as unrestrainedly as Yuna does, and Nayeon swears you almost seem to rail Yuna harder knowing she's watching. As your cock appears and disappears into Yuna's tight body, Nayeon fixes her eyes on how Yuna looks—like a proper slut. Her junior's eyes are rolled back, jaw slack, tongue sticking out of her mouth. The ahegao fixed upon Yuna's face draws Nayeon towards her, and the older girl steps up to pull her close. You shift Yuna back to create space for Nayeon, and you watch as the older girl pulls Yuna into a torrid kiss. The hot sounds of both women kissing mixed with their moans leads you to groan as well, and you fuck Yuna harder to satiate your lust. Nayeon holds Yuna's head close to her chest with one hand, and you watch as the older girl reaches between her legs to masturbate again. 

"Unnie, uhn—!" Yuna's eyes are glazed over from pleasure, her speech broken up by moans and loud claps of your flesh against hers. The girl can't seem to hold steady—she almost falls over a few times as her hips buck on every brush of your cock against her G-spot. "Oppa fucks me so well, Oppa's fucking my pussy so good!"

"That's right, he is, because you're such a good girl. Good, pretty girls like you deserve poundings like that." Nayeon bites her lip at the pleasure she brings herself. "In fact, a good girl like you should suck on Unnie's tits."

Almost instantly, Yuna has her lips on one of Nayeon's breasts. She is completely pliant to any instruction—the praise is all she craves. Nayeon moans out loud as her junior helps to pleasure her, and you hear another set of wet thrusts join with the sounds of your sex with Yuna as Nayeon resumes fucking herself. 

"That's right, Yuna, keep sucking Unnie's tits like that, fuck, fuck!"

You can't believe how blessed you are. Just like that, you're balls deep in the Princess of Seoul U and thoroughly pounding her freshly deflowered cunt, fucking it hard and using it like you've used Nayeon's so many times before. Both girls are similarly wet and messy—your shaft glides against Yuna's walls just like how it would in Nayeon's, and Nayeon's thighs always glisten with slick during sex, just like Yuna's are right now as well. The entire situation right now is obscenely hot—many dream to fuck both Nayeon and Yuna, and here you are living it, with both women desiring your cock so much they're having sex with you together. Yuna's been fucked almost entirely silly, and Nayeon's enjoying it as she fucks herself with Yuna's help. 

Nayeon is the first to crack—Yuna's tongue, teeth, and hands are her undoing. The younger girl pinches and tugs at the older girl's nipples, occasionally playing with them between her fingers while her tongue flicks the sensitive nubs, and Nayeon's moans only get louder, whinier, her fingers plunging and thrusting harder, deeper—

"Daddy, I'm going to cum!"

Nayeon barely makes it to the end of her sentence before squirt explodes out of her. You watch in pure lust as the older bunny throws her head back, her guttural moans, the hiss of her squirt gushing from her cunt, and the loud splatters of her cum forming puddles on the floor echoing around the empty auditorium. Jet after jet of girl cum drenches the floor, and you feel Yuna tighten around you when she watches Nayeon orgasm. The younger girl begins to whine seeing her senior's body buck and writhe as she orgasms, her legs unstable, breasts jiggling with every shift of her body. 

"Oppa, Unnie, Yuna's gonna—"

Yuna's sentence ends in a scream as her hips buck, and squirt sprays out of her freshly-fucked pussy. Your cock is forcefully ejected from her cunt, and you have to hold the younger girl up as her legs buckle, the pleasure of her orgasm washing over her entire body. Both Nayeon's and Yuna's cum mix on the floor beneath them, the huge puddle of squirt evidence of how much pleasure they drew from this session.  You enjoy the sight of both girls orgasming together in each other's embrace, but that doesn't last for long—you have yet to get your release yourself, and Yuna's pussy was the only hole you hadn't filled with your cum. With one hard thrust after lining yourself up, you draw another scream from Yuna as you plunge your hard shaft into her still-orgasming pussy, and you pound her right through it, chasing your own high and prolonging hers. 

"Yuna, baby, I'm going to fill you."

"Yes, Oppa, yes~!"

When you begin to thrust hard into Yuna, Nayeon pulls her into a sloppy kiss. Both girls' bodies rock with your thrusts as they engage in a hot, sloppy makeout—tongues swirl, moans escape their kiss, and hands roam across bodies to further pleasure each other. Even as Nayeon's orgasm subsides, Yuna doesn't relent in rubbing her Unnie's clit and playing with her breasts, drawing more pleasure from her body.  You feast on the sight in front of you, enjoying the show that your two partners are putting up for you, and you work towards your own sweet release with every thrust. The friction that Yuna's tight, heavenly walls provide pushes you closer and closer, until… 

"Fuck, Yuna, fuck!"

Your cock twitches and pulsates before the first burst of semen is fired deep into Yuna's cunt. Yuna moans at the feeling of you firing shot after shot of semen into her at the tail end of her orgasm, and you squeeze your eyes shut as white-hot pleasure washes over you with each rush of cum that you leave in the younger girl. You never stop thrusting throughout your orgasm, every upstroke fucking your cum deeper and deeper into her.  

When you pull out of Yuna, a thick stream of cum leaks from her pussy, down her thighs. Some of it drips to the floor, mixing with the puddle of cum beneath you and her, and you stagger back, your cock softening after the intense sex session you've just had. However, the glint in Nayeon's eye tells you that it isn't over—you're not done for the day yet.

"Yuna, baby, now that we both have your Oppa's cum in our pussies…" Nayeon begins, pulling Yuna against her, their sweaty bodies flushed together. "...we should thank Oppa, mm?"

You're just as confused as Yuna is, but you're also willing to play along. Nayeon leads Yuna to a dry spot on stage, and she directs you to step back. Nayeon leans to whisper a few words into Yuna's ear, and you know you're in for a world of trouble when Yuna's face turns red, and she bites her lip in arousal, her eyes locked onto you, lust burning once more.  When both girls begin to lower themselves to the floor, Nayeon leaves you with her new instructions.

"Enjoy the show, Daddy~"

When each girl crosses a leg over the other's, and both of them shift closer to each other, it clicks. Your cock begins to stir once more as you watch Nayeon and Yuna meet each other in the middle, moaning out loud as they grind their pussies together. 

"Oppa, look at us, Oppa!"

Yuna's desperate call for your attention has your cock twitching as it hardens to its full length. The younger girl has a wanton look of lust all over her features, and Nayeon's expressions mirror Yuna's as well. You watch as both women's pussies get messier—they "share" your creampies in them through sex, their skin coated in a mixture of their slick and your semen. Yuna is the more eager one—she actively grinds down on Nayeon's pussy as if this would be the last time she'd be having sex, and Nayeon reciprocates with the same effort, pleasuring herself and her junior well as they put on a show for you. You can't resist stroking your cock anymore with the live sex show right in front of you. 

"Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good, I feel so good~!" Nayeon's loud moans for you have you jerking harder. "Look at us sharing your cum, look at us having sex!"

With how sensitive both women are—Nayeon having orgasmed a short while earlier, and Yuna only finishing recently, it doesn't take too long before they're both close, desperately grinding against each other as they chase their highs together. 

"Unnie, unnie, I'm going to cum soon, unnie!"

"Me too, Yuna-ya, let's cum for Daddy, let's cum for him to watch!"

You feast your eyes on how the Queen and Princess bring each other to orgasm—Yuna and Nayeon both grind down on each other hard, and Yuna is the first to scream before a huge gush of squirt sprays from her pussy, showering both herself and Nayeon in her cum. Nayeon takes a short while longer—she rubs her clit with her hands before her hips buck, and her own spray of squirt jets out to cover Yuna. Both girls drench each other's bodies with their cum, and you watch while pinching the tip of your shaft, unwilling to cum just yet. A short jet of white spurts from your cock as you watch, your semen dripping to the floor as you enjoy the deliciously wanton sight in front of you. You're almost delirious with pleasure, partially physical, partially from the almost unreal situation you're in. You enjoy the sight of both Nayeon and Yuna making messes of each other as well as the stage, their cum pooling into a massive puddle beneath them. 

When both girls finally come down from their highs, they move themselves towards you. 

"Oppa, it's time for you to cum too."

Nayeon wastes no time in taking your shaft into her mouth, her hand reaching to jerk you off. Yuna's lips and tongue reach for your balls, and you rest a hand on both of their heads as they please you together as a team. Both women share your cock as if it were a delicacy—when Nayeon would release you from her warm, slick mouth, Yuna would take over with a gentle suction and her tongue gliding under your cock, leaving you twitching. It doesn't take long for the familiar feeling to bubble back up. 

"Fuck, Nayeon, Yuna, I'm close."

Both girls immediately focus their efforts right at your tip. Their tongues glide up and down on your cock before they make out with each other at the head of your cock, pushing you closer and closer.

"Cum over our faces, Daddy. You've earned it for fucking us so well."

With a loud groan, a thick burst of cum erupts from your cock, and Yuna immediately aims your cock right at herself. You watch in ecstasy as your hot load paints Yuna's pretty features, a smile wide on her face as your hot white semen lands on her face and breasts. Immediately, Nayeon pulls your cock over to her, and it's her turn to receive bursts of your cum all over her pretty face and body. You swear you're cumming forever—burst after burst of semen showers over Nayeon and Yuna, and when you inevitably come down from your high, you're greeted with the hottest sight of the night—the Queen and Princess of Seoul U, covered in a mixture of semen and squirt, servicing you and cleaning your cock with their mouths after rounds of hot sex where you'd filled their pussies full of your hot cum.

There's nowhere else you'd rather be at this very moment.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Nepo Baby

Leah Williamson x Beckham!Reader

Warning: I hate this sorry love the request but hate this

The locker room buzzed with nervous energy. England was facing Ireland, An important match in the intense group all looking to qualify for the Euros next year, and the tension was thicker than hairspray. But for Leah Williamson, captain and undisputed leader, there was an extra edge, it was her first game back for England since her ACL injury last year and although she was excited to finally be leading England back out she knew it wasn't what anyone would be talking about, not even her best friends had acknowledged the importance of today for her, all to caught up in the fan fair of a new England debut that was Y/n Beckham.

You were David and Victoria Beckham's third child, twin sister to Romeo and from the moment your name had been announced to the squad list the media had blown up, but Leah had been a sceptic. The media fawned over you, the "Beckham heir," a title that felt more like a burden than a birthright. Leah had clawed her way to the top, her talent undeniable. You, she suspected, had a silver spoon where your foot should be.

England's first training session confirmed Leah's suspicions. Your skills were undeniable – your crosses were pinpoint, your dribbling silky smooth. But there was a certain arrogance in your gaze, a sense of entitlement that grated on Leah. During a passing drill, You intercepted a ball intended for Leah, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Easy there, Williamson," You smirked, sending the ball sailing over Leah's head. "Maybe next time, try calling for it a bit louder."

Leah bristled. "Don't patronise me, Beckham," she growled. "This isn't your playground."

You began to regret your earlier arrogance as Leah began to nitpick her way through your play, through the rest of the training sessions at St Georges Leah found something to fault you on and you began to think back to all your past coaches who had put you on a pedestal only wanting to watch you fall. All training sessions continued like this and you hoped that she might let up but Leah seemed set in her ways.

Leah sighed walking into the conference room her first one back for England, her first one back as captain, she smiled letting out a soft hello before taking her seat beside Sarina.

Leah puffed out her cheeks as another reporter asked about you, She looked up as yet another report mentioned you and your father's talent. "Her dad worked hard to gain the career he had, Y/n has waltzed into her contracts thanks to his hard work, no other reason, she's an arrogant Nepo baby on a team of hard workers, now can we please move off this topic and actually talk about the upcoming games." The room fell into an awkward silence at the normally calm captains outburst.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the nervous coughs of a few reporters. Sarina Wiegman, the England manager, cleared her throat, her eyes flitting between Leah and the press. "Leah makes a valid point," she finally chimed in, her voice calm but firm. "We're here to discuss the upcoming matches, and the entire squad deserves your attention. Y/n has earned her place here based on her talent, and we're all focused on bringing home a win."

Leah felt a sliver of guilt at the manager's words. She knew Sarina was right, the media frenzy surrounding Y/n wasn't fair to anyone, and her outburst was unprofessional. But the constant comparisons, the whispers of nepotism, they were a persistent itch under her skin. That guilty feeling however was made ten times worse when she caught your eye at the back of the conference room before you ducked your head and began to walk out.

You had avoided Leah for the rest of your time at St Georges as well as the short travelling day over to Dublin, and now you sat at your cubby head down staring at the ground the weight of the surname on your back, the weight of your very famous family sitting in the stands travelling to see your debut for England. You couldn't let them down, you couldn't let him down.

The anger towards you and your nepotism crept back into Leah as she listened to Kiera and Georgia harp on about you and your famous family completely forgetting that this was also an important moment for her, this was her first time back in the England squad in a year, her first time starting, her first time back as captain.

Lining up Leah grabbed your arm before you could walk out "You aren't talented, you're a kid using your father's hard work, you never had to fight for your spot it was given to you on a silver platter thanks to the name on your back." Leah spat the last part back at you and suddenly you couldn't move, Leah hit your shoulder before heading to the tunnel, but still you couldn't move, she was right after all.

Shame burned in your throat, acrid and bitter. Leah's words echoed in the empty hallway, bouncing off the lockers and amplifying the hollowness you felt inside. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring the already dim lighting. You weren't a child, not anymore. But in that moment, Leah's words had stripped you bare, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

A shaky breath escaped your lips. You weren't a Beckham just because of your name. You'd trained relentlessly since you could walk, mimicking your dad's moves in the living room, begging him for extra sessions after school. You had the talent, you knew you did. But proving it to someone as entrenched as Leah felt impossible.

Suddenly, the weight of expectation on your young shoulders felt insurmountable. The image of your family in the stands, their hopeful faces etched in your mind, only amplified the pressure. You couldn't let them down, couldn't let your dad down after years of his unwavering support. A surge of defiance replaced the self-doubt. No, you wouldn't let Leah break you.

Suddenly, a hand touched your shoulder. You flinched, expecting another barb, but it was Lucy, her face etched with concern. "Y/n, are you alright?" she asked gently.

You shook your head, voice cracking. "I...she thinks..." you choked on the words.

Lucy understood. She'd been there, the pressure of a debut, the weight of expectations. "Listen," she said firmly, her voice laced with veteran experience, "Leah's hurting. She wants to prove herself again, and right now, she's lashing out."

"But it's true," you whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I haven't had to fight for anything."

Lucy wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. "Maybe not," she conceded, "but that doesn't mean you don't have talent. We wouldn't be here if you weren't good. Use this, Y/n. Prove them all wrong, yourself included."

Her words sparked a flicker of defiance in your chest. You weren't here just because of your name. You loved football, you'd trained relentlessly, pushing yourself as hard as anyone. Maybe you hadn't clawed your way up from the bottom, but that didn't mean you didn't belong.

Wiping your tears, you straightened your back, a newfound resolve hardening your gaze. "Thanks, Lucy," you said, your voice firm. 

The roar of the Dublin crowd washed over you as you stepped onto the pitch. You glanced at Leah across the line, her jaw clenched, eyes hard with determination. It wasn't a friendly look, but it wasn't a dismissive one either.

Every touch, every pass, fueled by the need to silence the doubts, both internal and external. You played with a tenacity that surprised even yourself, weaving through defenders, your crosses finding their targets with pinpoint accuracy.

Then, in the second half, a chance. You intercepted a pass deep in your own half, broke free, and sprinted down the wing. The Irish defense converged, but you remembered Leah's words from training, the ones buried under the avalanche of criticism. You feinted left, then right, sending two defenders sprawling.

With only the Courtney Brosnan to beat, you took a deep breath, you curled the ball towards the far post. It dipped just out of reach of the goalkeeper's fingertips, nestled perfectly into the net.

The stadium erupted. Your teammates swarmed you, a joyous tangle of limbs. Even Leah offered a hesitant smile, a flicker of pride in her eyes.

The final whistle blew, and England was victorious. As you celebrated with your teammates, a hand landed on your shoulder. You looked up to see Leah, a genuine smile on her face.

"Good goal," she said, her voice the softest you've heard.

"Thank you." you smiled back before clearing your throat, your eyes pricking with tears before let out a surprised gasp at Leah pulling you into her chest.

The unexpected warmth of Leah's embrace sent a jolt through you. It was the first genuine human contact you'd had from her all camp, and for some reason, it felt like a dam breaking.

"I just want to prove myself," you mumbled against her shoulder, your voice thick with emotion. "Everyone expects me to be this prodigy, just because of my name. But I don't want to be David Beckham's daughter, I want to be Y/n Beckham, the footballer."

Leah pulled back to meet your gaze, her voice softer than you expected. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to prove yourself. I was out of line. The whole 'nepo baby' thing...it was unprofessional and unfair. You deserve to be here, Y/n. Your talent speaks for itself."

That night, under the soft glow of the locker room lights, a tentative friendship blossomed. It was a friendship forged in shared passion, mutual respect, and the unspoken understanding of the immense pressure that came with wearing the England shirt.pen_spark

You wouldn't see Leah again until England's camp in preparation for the doubleheader against France and this time the training sessions became a battleground, not of barbs and put-downs, but of fierce competition, each of you pushing the other to be better. You learned to anticipate Leah's sharp passes, and her instinctive runs, and she, in turn, began to appreciate the subtle artistry in your footwork, the way you could unlock a defence with a single, deft touch.

Late nights turned into conversations in the locker room, sharing stories, dreams, and the anxieties that came with leading a team like England. You confided in Leah about the suffocating weight of expectation, the fear of never living up to your father's legacy. She, in turn, opened up about the loneliness of being the captain, the constant scrutiny, the burden of always having to be strong.

The evening before the team were set to travel to Newcastle, after a particularly gruelling training session, you found yourself lingering in the empty team room. Leah was still there, sat on the couch scrolling in the corner. You hesitated, then walked over.

"Fancy a game of Ping Pong." You rubbed your neck nervously as Leah met your eyes before smiling "Yeah sure." You both spent the night laughing over your terrible ping-pong skills before quietly wishing each other good night.

As weeks turned into months, your friendship deepened, blossoming into something more. Stolen glances across the training field, lingering touches during celebrations, late-night texts filled with silly jokes and words left unsaid. It was a slow burn, a gradual realization that the person you once considered your rival had become someone you craved, not just on the pitch, but off it as well.

The turning point came during the final Euro qualifier match against Swede. The pressure was immense, and the score tied with only minutes remaining. You received the ball deep in your own half, the Swedish defence swarming around you. You saw a gap, a flicker of movement, and instinctively passed the ball.

Leah, anticipating the play, met the ball perfectly, unleashing a powerful shot that rocketed into the net. The stadium erupted, your teammates mobbing you both in a joyous frenzy. In that shared moment of triumph, your eyes met, and a silent confession hung heavy in the air.

Later that night, back at the team hotel, you found Leah pacing the balcony overlooking the city lights. The nervous tension that had been simmering for weeks finally broke.

"Leah," you started, your voice barely above a whisper "Are you ok." Leah walked straight for you before gently grabbing your face before you placed a hand on her chest stopping her advances. "This...us...it's not fair to the team, is it?"

She didn't move, her eyes searching yours. "Maybe not," she admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "But it feels pretty damn right."

You dropped your hands to her waist as she pulled you into a searing kiss before you pulled back again Leah let out a whine in frustration, "And to think you hated me only a few months ago." Leah let out a scoff "I never hated you, how could I ever hate a girl as gorgeous as you." you laughed before pulling her into another kiss

[adhdstudybitch]

Currently, at work, there's a debate about whether my coworker (who sprained his ankle and needs a chair at the register) is faking his disability. And every single time I tell someone "debating whether someone is faking disability sets a horrible precedent wherein you think you're allowed to determine who is and isn't disabled, who does and doesn't 'deserve' accommodations, and just serves to harm disabled people by setting impossible standards that force us to injure ourselves to prove that we're "disabled enough" in your eyes," it's immediately followed up with "okay but here's why I think he's faking it."

One coworker was like "but you're different, you actually work hard-" like yeah dude because if I don't I'm afraid you'll think I'm faking and guess what I'M RIGHT. YOU FUCKING WILL. But thanks for confirming that, in your eyes, I'm one of "the good disabled people" who don't "force" you to have to remember or acknowledge our disabilities by, you know, existing in the same space as you. Love the pedestal you've put me on, can't wait for your reaction when I inevitably fall off it! Can't wait for the day when I can't just "push through" and be a hard worker in your eyes, anymore.

Yesterday's cherry on top of the workplace ableism is when another coworker was complaining about the one she thought was faking it and said "I'm so annoyed, I just want to hide the chairs." The chairs. Plural. Because one of those chairs is MINE. So these righteous assholes think that because they don't like this dude (and believe me, that is why they're doing this. He gets on all of their nerves, including mine half the time) they think it's okay to threaten to remove every disability aid in sight. Cuz fuck the people who need them, who gives a shit about that when I can fuck over this one dude I don't like, right?

And this is what is what I mean when I tell my coworkers that it goes beyond this one coworker. It's the precedent you're setting. It's the way you're willing to screw over every disabled person if you even so much as think someone is faking and taking advantage of accommodations (and what's the massive violation in this case? What are we cheating the system out of? Oh, standing in one place for long periods of time, a behavior that we know fucks people's bodies up? Wow, gasp, how awful, poor corporate bastards not being able to break every single person they hire *eye roll*) it's the way abled people will claim they're trying to protect disabled people when they're actively harming us and refusing to listen or even doubling down when we try to education them. It's the way I told my coworker that I break myself every shift just to make sure none of those fuckers have any reason to say that I'm being lazy, just so he could roll his eyes at me like I'm being dramatic.

I'm just over it. I shouldn't even be working right now. My whole care team wants me to go on disability but that shit isn't enough to live on, and I don't have any other choices. I gotta work. I gotta work myself into the fucking ground, I gotta be ten times better than all of them, just to hear some abled asshole talk about hiding my chair cuz she's mad at a different disabled coworker. It's fucking disgusting.

(Edit: okay to reblog)

[webslingingslasher]

ok but he’s so lame bc why NOT just the tip

her gorilla grip coochie isn’t gonna vacuum suck his dick all the way in 😭😭😭😭😭

(it might)

but like.... if he did one night? i mean, after you've done everything but that and you're a little extra pleading and... *nsfw content!*

'just the tip.'

'no.'

'c'mon, peter. sex is next so think of this as a... i don't know, a baby step! yeah, this is educational if you think about it, just another way of preparing me for the next thing!'

peter's looking over your face, he always thought it was a joke but you've thought it out. peter sees a lightbulb appear over your head.

'plus i'm all primed, if you know what i mean... i mean how you just ate me out, so i'm all wet and there's less risk of it h-'

'i know what you mean.' you grin, it was peter's turn next anyways, why not throw this into the mix first? 'cool. it's just the tip, it probably won't feel like anything, anyways.'

'thanks, cherry. that's very kind of you.' you wince, 'sorry. obviously i'm gonna feel something but it won't be like i'm being split in half. unless-'

'you're serious.' you actually want him to do it. you furrow your eyebrows, isn't it obvious? 'well, yeah.'

'i always thought you were joking, but no, you're serious.'

you shift around and tug peter's blanket down, you spread wide for him. 'so serious.' he's hesitant, you lightly kick him and lower your voice.

'don't you wanna be in me?' peter's throbbing, he's just a man at heart, he can only be so good and he's been very good up until now, he's allowed this.

'so bad.' you have no idea how long he's been waiting for this. no idea. 'then come here and give me the tip.' you make grabby hands, your heart's drumming hard, you're about to get what you want.

you almost scream out in excitement when he settles between your legs, lifting your hips to have your thighs rest on his. shifting, he's almost where you want him, you're held down with his hand on your tummy, you're gripping around nothing.

'i need a condom.' peter leans over you, you pull his arm down. 'no you don't, it's just the tip.'

'that's not how it works.'

you shake your head, 'i'm on birth control. i have been for years, it helps with my period.' peter's never done anything without a barrier, he's unsure but you know how to talk him into it.

'i just wanna feel you, don't i deserve the real thing?' if it was anyone else peter would be backing out calling for a baby trap, but with you he just falls in and can't think straight.

'you can have anything you want.' you can, peter wants to do nothing but make you happy. he loves when you're happy because you got your way.

'yeah?' your pupils are blown wide, you reach for him, begging for him to come just a little closer. 'wanna give me what i want?' peter's hot, he's about to start sweating and he hasn't done anything but rest your thighs on his and contain himself.

you hold your breath in anticipation. peter grips the headboard with his left hand as support, his right hand goes down, you startle when you feel... something collecting your slick.

his tip brushes over your clit, you bite down on your bottom lip. you can't stop from squeaking when a string of spit falls from peter's mouth, watching him softly jerk himself for a moment before lining up. it's filthy. you want all of him.

'we're not having sex.' you're not sure if peter was setting the rule for you or him, it doesn't matter, you agree with him. 'it's just the tip. that's it.'

peter nods once, 'just the tip.' his hips move, your hand slams down, you're searching for his. 'hold my hand, hold my hand, hold my-' peter has to switch, his left has control and his right has yours.

they're intertwined, it's less scary now. 'okay, i'm ready.' your lower stomach tightens and relaxes, your hips move with his, you feel him press in closer and closer and closer- your hand squeezes his- peter's back to holding the headboard.

you gasp loudly at the pressure, you melt into his sheets and throw your head back. unexpected reaction, you laugh lightly, not because it's funny, because 'it feels so fucking good.'

peter's fingers go white around the wood, he's using every single atom in his body to show restraint. the hand you're not holding his with, pulls at his waist.

'give me more.' peter feels the board bending under his grip, he's better than his, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't how you were supposed to lose your virginity.

'it's like you're teasing me.' peter speaks through gritted teeth, all his focus was on not doing what you were asking. 'yeah, honey, that's the problem with just the tip, it's never just the tip.'

'mhm. i feel so full, oh my god.'

peter breaks his headboard.

half is ripped from the other, you go from pleasure to shock, you push at his chest while trying to sit up, pulling away from him entirely. 'oh my god! oh my god, what the fuck!'

dust floats over you, you cover your head, you're trying to figure out what happened. was it a bomb? and earthquake? an exploding manhole?

'peter, what the fuck was that? what happened?'

you. you happened. with the words and the noises and the begging and he couldn't fucking hold back anymore. his headboard paid the price, he can't believe what he just did.

'i don't... i don't know. i was just holding on and...' how is he supposed to explain this one? 'well, obviously it was a defective one! oh my god, are you okay?' you rip your arms away from your head, you sit up and stare at him.

'am i okay?' peter nods fast, his thumbs brush under your eyes, 'you're okay. i'm okay. we're okay.' you rest your hands over his, you stare at the half crumpled wood on the floor. you've held onto it many times, it was sturdy. you're questioning your theory.

'how the hell did that happen? it looks like you fucking ripped it apart!'

he did.

'i have no idea.' you stand up to grab your underwear and a shirt, you make some very clear points. 'okay, you need a new headboard and absolutely no more 'just the tip,' until you get one of quality. imagine if that came down on my head, i would be dead with just the tip in me!'

'i wouldn't let that happen, i'd give you the whole thing so you wouldn't die a virgin.' you pout softly, 'aw. you love me.' peter smiles, his fingers pinch together. 'a little bit.'

you stare at the mess on the floor, little pieces of wood splintered away on the fall down. 'hey- so do you think we're being punished for-'

'no.' 

[halaboyz]

did you like her in the morning?, yunho

ateez bf! yunho x fem! reader angst angst angst angst (pre-breakup) wc: 1.5k warnings: desperation idk, mentions of cheating, a whole lot of cursing, mention of k-word and d-word for the sake of the argument a/n: you voted for him YOU GOT IT ! this has two POVs, the other one (the actual arranged marriage) is still in the works ! i think this hurts more idk !!! don't ask me ,, i alternately use jeong and yunho in the dialogues bc "jeong!!" feels a little bit more powerful and "yunho" seemed soft so don't bash my head for that !!

"...Can we talk?" Yunho calls over the phone a few minutes of silence after the line got connected. He sounded awfully serious, yet so soft-spoken.

"Of course, Love. What time do you get home?" You coo, staying calm amidst the anxiety building up. "I've also got groceries I just picked up to cook so if you want to eat something, tell me,"

"No, y/n. I meant now. Can we talk now?" You hear him sigh, and you could make out in your head that he was slightly shaking his head and massaging his forehead.

"Okay, since you seem so head-straight about it. What is it?" You surrender, putting your groceries down and sitting on the couch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. We just need to talk," Yunho quickly shuts you down, as if he was in a rush to let everything out. "I... I'm not going home."

"..Okay? We'll see each other tomorrow night though, right?"

"No, I meant I'm not going home. Anymore." And silence. It wasn't even supported with any explanation. Any kind, any type. As if you were just to accept what he's saying.

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"I'm not going to go home anymore, y/n. Not anymore." It was that simple. It was just like that. Told like news, and he wasn't even fazed while you were nearly on your knees to understand.

"Love, I don't understand. What do you mean you're not coming home? Hmm?" Your voice wavered as you begged for him to say something.

"I'm not going home anymore, y/n. What's so hard to understand?" He exasperatingly replies, making you furrow your brows.

"I asked what you fucking meant! Make me understand, Yunho! You can't just drop a bomb like this and act like I'm the dumb one here!" You exclaim through the phone, jumping on your feet and then going back and forth the living room and the front door. "I know we're not getting along the past few weeks but god, Yunho. Let's at least work it out,"

"I'm getting engaged, y/n." You wait. You wait, and wait, and wait. For further excuses. Further explanations. Anything. If you thought that the words 'I'm not going home anymore,' was a bomb, this was self-destruction. You shouldn't have asked, huh?

But when it was followed with nothing but silence and his sighs, you scoff in disbelief.

"...That's it?" You just... held on. He was being ridiculously funny that an insignificant, lifeless laugh comes out of you.

"Dad set us up."

"So, that's it?" You reply quickly when all he does was take his time sculpting an acceptable answer, but he was greatly failing at it. So when you replied that quickly, he doesn't try anymore. "Come home, Yunho."

"No, y/n."

"Come home and fucking explain looking at me in the eyes, Yunho. I'm not going to make any engagement happen if you're not going to come home, Jeong. So come home if you really want that and, end us. I'll even pack your things with my own two fucking hands," And you were stern. Yet you mean the other way around.

Just to prove something, you don't want him to come home. So that no engagement was going to happen in your territory. As you end the call in a hurry, you fall down to your knees as you sob, it was better to sob all by yourself than have Yunho standing in front of you in minutes, hours...

To which he is.

As you were hugging your knees, unable to move from your place on the floor leaning on the couch, you hear your front door opening to your horror.

Yunho, standing tall and mighty before you, as if he even dropped everything just to come home. To come home and end everything; to come home and ruin you.

He stared right at you, love long left his eyes. It was clear through your teary eyes, and it wasn't as hard for him to let go as it was with you.

"You want to leave so bad you really came home, huh?" A chuckle of some sort leaves your lips, wiping your tears.

"Are we going to make things hard for the both of us, y/n?" He starts, and he doesn't break eye contact as he slowly steps closer to you. Close enough to hear him better, far enough not to reach him to hold him back.

"It's not hard for me though, Yunho." You say out, coming as a whisper that shakes. "It's not hard for me holding on to you, Yunho. I've loved you all these years and we've had rough patches too, but it was never hard for me to always, always choose you."

You've come to think Yunho's silence was a tinge of hesitation, or so you hope. Because Yunho doesn't respond.

"You don't look like you're having a hard time too, only that we meant totally different things." You chuckle lifelessly, sniffing. "You don't look like you're having a hard time letting go of the woman you dated for five years."

"Y/n. Stop it. It wasn't an easy decision,"

"Wasn't an easy decision, for whom, Jeong?!" You've risen up to your feet to step closer to him and have him a good look of your disheveled appearance. "You're twenty-five for fuck's sake! Would your dad kill you if you went against him for once?!"

Your pushes were harsh and so you wanted it to be painful as well. But god you wished these number of pushes that hurt him amounted to the pain you were also carrying.

"Would you die if you fought for us once, Jeong?!" Yunho tries grabbing your arms but you only broke away. "You gave them the right of the decision, but how about me, Jeong?! How about me?! Am I invisible or something?! Because for all I know, I'm still fucking here!" Falling to your demise as your knees hit the floor once again.

And Yunho just watches.

"...I'm still here, Yunho..." Your hands grab his index finger ever so desperately to hold on to him. It was like hanging to your life. Because everyone knows he was your life. He was someone you'd choose a hundred times over, return to earth for, and die a million times for.

Yet he can't do anything for you. He can't fight for you, he can't stay for you, he can't.

"I wish you'd fight for us like how I do, Yunho..." You sob helplessly, leaning your forehead into his hand that you held.

Yunho watches. Just watches. You had no idea how he felt, or what he was thinking. You don't even get to think about that. You were overwhelmed with your own, so how could you even think of him now?

"We were meant to end this way or that way, y/n," Yunho mumbles, head turning to his side to avoid looking at you.

"...So you took the way you'd ruin me best," You nod unknowingly, hands slowly slipping away from his finger. "Okay."

Yunho looks at you, and how your hands slowly dropped.

"Leave." It barely leaves your lips. You don't want him to, of course, but you were done.

You were done fighting for someone who can't do the same for you. You were done holding on to something you're only slipping away on.

With courage, you meet his eyes once again as you stretch your neck up in dejection. And for the first time when Yunho step inside your shared apartment, you saw emotion in his eyes.

That is, of empathy.

He looked at you as if you were such a pitiful thing, in denial of what he made you.

In ruins. Who was taking each of her broken parts and hugging it all in desperation to keep it and everything together.

He made you like that. And now was he thinking that this is the reason why he took the easy way out.

Because if you took much longer to stay, to find more reasons to love each other, and someday just find you or Yunho in this position of yours, in despair, in shambles, and probably much even worse, he'll take the easy way out. He always will.

And you didn't deserve that now, nor will you ever.

"Leave," So you glue all your broken parts and glare at the man you loved, you once ever so loved, stern in tone and harsh in glare. "And like I said, I'll even pack all of your things for you. So leave, Jeong."

You may or may not have, still, prayed for him to stay. For the last one.

But when he doesn't, and your met with his back scrambling to the front door and closing it, you can't help another surge of tears flow as your broken parts get much more broken than it was before.

So much for gluing it back together for a mere thirty seconds.

He left in thirty seconds.

permanent taglist: @sunlightwoo

networks: @kflixnet

[panlight]

Really is wild when you start to think about what other characters went through during the course of the books that just . . . doesn't matter all that much.

Alice found out how/why she was turned, that she had been hunted by James and a vampire who cared about her turned her to save her and then died protecting her. That's a lot. And then in New Moon she finds out her father had her committed to an asylum and the date on her supposed gravestone matches the date on the admission papers. Also a lot. I guess with this one you can sort of handwave it with "she doesn't remember any of it though so maybe that's why it doesn't affect her much."

Then there's Leah and Seth, who lose their dad, and that's like, hardly a thing other than a) allows for the "funeral" miscommunication and b) makes Sue single so she can take care of Charlie while Bella's off blissfully vampiring. Seth is happy and sunny and sweet pretty much 100% of the time, and Leah's issues are all attributed to the Sam/Emily drama rather than, oh, I don't know, the shock of her phasing into a wolf causing her father's fatal heart attack. The guilt she must feel about that even though it's not at all her fault!

Then there's the Cullens in general dealing with having to hunt down and kill James; having to deal with Edward running away and nearly dying in Volterra; being under the threat of the Volturi because of Edward's misadventure in Italy; having to fight to the death against a bunch of newborns; and facing off against the Volturi. They presumably have been living in peace since whenever it was Maria had shown up in Calgary and then in the space of like a year and a half just complete and utter chaos, and all they can say about it is like, "we're so grateful you saved Edward, Bella!"

Quil, watching all his friends join this mysterious 'cult' and being left out and confiding in Bella about it. Sam dealing with All Of It when he wasn't even supposed to be the Alpha. Embry realizing he's the half-brother of one of these guys and probably searching for that belonging but knowing it could throw the community and families into chaos.

And then there's the pregnancy. Only Rosalie gets to have any feelings about it really and again, it's mostly so she can be Bella's bodyguard and less about Rosalie herself. But Esme has also longed for motherhood and sure she "makes do" with her Cullen kids, but they were all essentially adults when she adopted them. But more importantly she actually HAS been pregnant and HAS had a baby and LOST said baby. She also crushed hard on a vampire when she was a teenager, and now she's watching Bella getting to have a child with the vampire she loves when it's impossible for Esme herself and surely surely surely this would bring up some complicated feelings. But we get nothing. Like, literally nothing from Esme, she might as well not be in the book. She just existed to renovate the cottage.

Then there's Carlisle, whose mother died in childbirth from his normal human birth, watching his new daughter-in-law dying from a pregnancy and listening to his first and most beloved son say how he could never love the creature, his own child, if it kills Bella, and probably looking back on his own fraught relationship with his father and reliving that same resentment from the POV of the 'creature that killed the mother' and again, nothing. Not a factor. No one even mentions it in passing.

And like yes, I know, it's a YA romance, it's Not That Deep, it's about a girl falling in love with a vampire and finding wish fulfillment fantasy in that. I know. Everything else is just set dressing and not given any depth at all because it's not the point. But man, there's SO much there in the little throwaway details and unexplored backstories, and I fully believe that's what is fueling a large part of the fandom to this day.

[scholastic-dragon]

HAPPY BDAY YAYYYY

could i request a Hellboy x female reader with prompt 9: don't give me that look?

You can have free reign other than that, thank you so much!

hehehehehehehehehe

yes

Right Place.... right time?

warnings: SMUT, minors DNI

"Don't give me that look," He growls, glancing around the dark tunnel you two are in. "We can't,"

You scoff, setting your flashlight on your belt.

Hellboy was trying to be better. He'd fucked up on so many missions and wanted to remind the team that he was here. That he could do a simple recon mission.

"I'm serious, Babe," He groans, looking through the underground tunnels. You two had split off, looking for clues for the most recent monster escapade. "I cannot get distracted-"

He turns and the words die on his tongue. Your jacket is already off, your shirt unbuttoned to reveal your bare chest. And your hands and working on your belt and pants.

"Babe," He wants to sound assertive, but it comes out as a plead. His cock is already half hard seeing you like this. "We're in the middle of a mission, we can't-"

Your pants fall to the floor. Now you're in nothing but a red thong. His resolve smashes into a million pieces.

Before he can think, he's rushing forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. He gives you no time to breathe, his flashlight falling to the floor with a thump.

Lifting you in his arms, he pushes you against the cold stone wall. It's wet and damp and cold down here, but as you mewl and roll your hips into his pants he can't seem to care.

His stone hand and tail keep you pressed to the wall, his human one runs down your body until he reaches your weeping cunt. "God, you're fucking soaked," He all but moans into your mouth.

"Pants. Pants," Is all you can reply, reaching down and tugging at his belt. It takes you both a minute, but you finally get the damned thing off. He barely pushes down his pants and underwear, his cock bobs in the open air.

He notches the hot tip at your entrance, kissing at your throat. He slips inside and you mewl and grip his shoulders. Slowly but surely he sinks you down to the hilt, both of you panting and moaning quietly.

He moves you like you weigh nothing, up and down over and over again. His teeth latch onto your breasts, sucking dark bruises onto the soft skin.

God, he's already close.

His tail sneaks over your thigh that wrapped around his hip and rubs at your swollen clit. You moan and groan into his mouth.

"Shit, shit, shit," You chant, followed by a scream of his name and other blasphemous curses. Your cunt squeezes him tight, gushing around him. He grunts, hips stuttering as he spills inside you.

His knees nearly give out, pressing you harder into the wall. You're both shaking and panting in each others arms.

You laugh breathlessly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He opens his mouth to respond when someone else's voice echoes off the tunnels. "It'll get a lot worse if you two don't clean up and get to the rendezvous point in ten minutes,"

Hellboy's blood runs cold. "Abe? Were you listening?" You gasp softly, face flushing deep, covering your face in your hands.

He laughs. "Thankfully no, I got hear just a minute ago to the heavy breathing. But I can only cover for you two for so long, so hurry up," His footsteps retreat from the tunnel.

"Thanks, Abe, I owe ya," Hellboy calls, smirking at your flushed face.

"You owe me a lot actually," He says, voice getting quiet.

Hellboy chuckles, licking his lips. "Ya know what, baby? That was worth it," He laughs harder as you smack his shoulder.

[adams-angels]

I want to see my man in pain, Adam break down after reader said they want to break up (fluff in the end pls) 😞

I reaaaally enjoyed writing this

I love pain 🥹

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Used

Adam POV

It was a normal night. Out talking to some babes. Tellin' them how great I am. Because, well, I AM! HA! I'm the first fucking man! These bitches swarm me. Who am I to deny them. I check my phone a see y/n has text me. "Ugh, what do you want now you needy fuckin'" I can't believe what I'm reading.

"we're done."

My heart sinks. Why is it sinking. I don't care. I'm fucking ADAM!! Adam stands, pushing away the crowd of angels surrounding him and tries calling you. "Come on.. come on, pick up, you dumb bitch." No answer. NO FUCKING ANSWER. His head spins. Panic sets in as. This isn't happening. Not again.

You think you're better than me?! You're nothing! I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I'VE GOT TONS OF BITCHES WAITING FOR ME!

I DONT NEED YOU I NEVER NEEDED YOU!

He tries calling you again. No answer. "FUCK!" He expands his wings and shoots up, smashing through the skylight. He continues to text and call as he makes his away to your apartment. "FUCKING ANSWER ME!" He screams into his phone. By the time he arrives at your apartment he calms himself down, "I can get them back." He thinks to himself as he lands on your balcony. "They didn't mean it. They couldn't of."

As he reaches for the handle of the sliding door his hand shakes. "No, no, no, no." He grips onto his wrist stepping back from the door, being stopped my the railing. He slides down to the floor. "No, no, no...." His voice cracks, fear, sadness, anger. He never let himself get close. At least that's what he told himself. After the second wife also betrayed him he swore he'd never care so he would never hurt. But somewhere along the way, he fell for you. Although he denied himself.

He rushed to remove his mask, feeling like he can't breathe. Once he got it off he threw it aside. Clutching at his chest as tears escaped from his eyes. "No, no, no.." he whimpered. He sat on the floor for an hour. Thinking about you. What he did wrong. If he did something terrible. Why you're ending it. There wasn't even anything to end and yet his world felt like it was crashing around him.

Once he calmed down he leaned forward and sighed. Wiping his cheeks as he stood up and put his mask back on. He reached for the handle, hesitating before opening the sliding door. He sees you in your bed, asleep. He closed the door quietly and just watched you. For about half an hour before he realised how much a creep he's being. He walked into your livingroom. He's been here plenty times before. He memorized the layout.

He walks over to one of your succulents. You loved them. Once he came over and accidentally knocked one on the floor. You were so upset. He didn't see the big deal but he still went out of his way to buy you a new pot for it and a new succulent altogether. Just something to say he was sorry without actually saying sorry. He smiled as he remembered your joy. He sat on the couch and waited.

A couple hours later he heard rustling in your room. He shot up from the couch and heading to your bedroom, freezing at the doorway as he sees you wake. You scream in surprise, falling off your bed. He noticed your phone falling off the nightstand with you. His chest tightens. Your phone. Those horrible texts. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" You yell at him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stands there, feeling awkward. "You want to leave me?" He asked, trying hard to not break his voice. You tut, he watches at you stand, wanting to help but to afraid to move. "You say that like you cared." You snap, picking your phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards you, reaching out but you recoiled. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

Adam braces himself. For you to yell. For you to scream. For you to tell him you love someone else. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." His shoulders slump down he hesitantly steps closer to you "What are you talking about?" He carefully slides his hand under yours "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with your as his other hand brushes your hair from you face. His breath catches seeing your red, watery eyes "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups your face. He looks into your eyes and for the first time in eons he chose to be vulnerable. "Be mine?" He watches you shrug. Rightfully assuming you've misunderstood his request he clarifies "no, I'm asking. Be mine." The way you look at him makes his chest tighten in fear. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He glares at you. Of course you'd remember that. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in in frustration. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. "I'll have to think about it." His chest tightened. His heart beating a million miles a minute. You'd see how pale he would be if he wasn't wearing the mask. "H-how long will that take?" He asked, desperation leaking out of him.

"I don't know, Adam." You shrug. The air was thick. He was struggling to breath and needed to get out of there. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kisses your hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." He heads to the sliding door he entered from, opening it and expanding his wings as he jumps off. He looks behind to see if you watched leave like you've done so maybe times before. But you're not there.

It's been a month. A whole month. It should feel like nothing to him considering how long he's been in existence yet it feels like a years. He sees you about. With your friends. Getting groceries. Whenever his eyes catch on to you he freezes. No matter what he's doing.

He can't keep this up. He didn't want to pressure you. Make you feel like you had to choose him. But fuck he needed you to choose him. He was in his office. But he couldn't focus. He was so tired, not being able to sleep well without you. Even if he didn't sleep the whole night it was always nice knowing you were there no matter what. At least that's what he used to think.

He checked his phone to see nothing from you. It was too much. He was alone. You were never coming back. No one ever comes back. Lilith left him. Eve left him. Now you. "Fuck. FUCK!" He picks up his coffee and punts it at the wall. He can't stay here. He needs to find you. He needs you back.

He swung the door open and there you were. He couldn't believe it. He thought you'd at least text him. Not show up at his office! His feathers were literally ruffled, his office looks like a bombs hit it. "Y/n?" He said softly, it was like time stopped for a minute. He wish it did. Then he could scoop you in his arms and never let you leave. He snapped back into reality changing his expression quickly, not want anyone to see a softer side to him. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. He hates that you didn't text. He would of cleaned up there were documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. He hated it was such a mess for you. "Bad day?" You commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven." He mumbled as he slumps down on his office chair.

Resting his chin on the back of his hand as he watches you walk over to his office window, opening it. The musky smell almost dissipating immediately "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight, watching you like a hawk. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." He immediately bolts from his chair, wrapping his arms around you. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His voice breaks, wings surrounded the both of you. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[dotster001]

Gold Digger End

Summary: another for tuna CC end

A/N: as usual, you can vote for the next ending here. I combined this person, with a scenario that was requested... So.... 😁

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose Another ending

"Grim! What the actual fuck?"

You had stumbled upon Grim's notebook, which was titled, "How to Marry Y/N off to Idia".

"Y/N! That's my super secret diary! Put it back!"

"Like hell it's your diary!" You snapped.

"Listen, Y/N," he climbed up your body, and cupped your cheeks with his paws, face stern, "it's time to face the facts. We are poor."

"I know that, but-"

You were cut off by a loud crash as the railing fell off the stairs, which was quickly followed by the collapse of the stairs themselves.

The two of you stared at the fallen stairway. Silent. Pondering. You shifted Grim to your hip, and picked up his fallen notebook.

"Are you sure Idia is our best option?"

"Technically, Leona has more money, but he's on an allowance. If he steps out of line, we're toast."

"But he's willing to work with us?"

"Are you asking if he wants you?" Grim laughed. "Yeah. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't want you in this school. It's a little concerning."

You flipped past Idia's pages, finding some final notes on Leona.

"Let me talk to him."

"Are you sure?" Grim couldn't help but be frightened by your change of heart.

"Grim, look at our stairway, and ask if I'm sure again."

You both looked back at the stairs.

"I'll call him and set up an appointment," Grim muttered, leaping out of your arms, and pulling Leona's file, which was hidden under the couch.

….

Leona was watching the both of you, smugly, from across his desk.

"I have to say, I'm a little surprised to see you here, herbivore. I thought you would still be living in denial."

You scowled over the rim of your glasses, that matched Grim's.

"Mr. Kingscholar-"

"Mr. kingscholar? What happened to kitty cat?"

You hid your flustered face by pushing your glasses back up your nose. But you didn't miss Grim's confused glance your way.

"Kitty cat?"

"Mr Kingscholar!" You cut him off. "We are willing to choose you as my lover and future husband, but we need to know that you will not blow it."

He leaned back in his chair, giving you a long, slow once over.

"Hmm."

He stood up, and walked to the window behind you, staring at the Savannaclaw courtyard.

"I can be a good little kitty cat. If it's for you."

You choked, and fiddled with your glasses again.

"How much do you need right now?"

He still wasn't looking at you, and it wasn't helping anything.

"Huh?"

"200,000 thaumarks to renovate the stairwell, and restabilize Ramshackle," Grim spoke up for you.

Leona pulled out his wallet, and filled out a check, handing it to Grim.

"Are there any contracts the two of us need to sign, little mouse? Maybe one that makes you promise not to fall in love with me?" Leona smirked, as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I-" your tongue felt like lead, and you swallowed, before starting over, "I don't think that's a concern."

Your voice was completely cracked, but at least you got the statement out.

"Hmm," he said again, devilish smirk not leaving his face. "But you do plan to at least pretend to be my perfect little partner, yes?"

"That's the idea," you choked out.

"Hmm."

He had to stop saying hmm. You couldn't handle it.

"Well, in exchange for that 200 k, you'll join me at a charity ball tomorrow evening, and then let me hold you until we both fall asleep."

"Tomorrow?!? I don't have anything to-"

"I had a feeling Grim would have end up picking me, even if he didn't choose me first. I got you something to wear."

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a stunning outfit.

"Oh," you shifted in your seat. It would definitely look good on you. How long had he been planning this? And why were you getting so excited and flustered thinking about him, thinking about your future with him?

"Oh," he mocked, handing you the hanger. "Try that on so Ruggie can fit it if he has to. Bathroom is over there. Fuzzball, go get him." Leona pointed you towards the bathroom, and Grim towards the door.

Grim, needless to say, was very confused. But he fetched Ruggie anyway.

Just as they were about to reenter, Ruggie turned to Grim.

"Any chance you can get me a sugar mommy or daddy? I'm not picky, I'm into all of the above, you just have to find them for me."

Grim grinned, "Ten percent of your future allowance, and you got yourself a deal."

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @peskygirl13 @loser-jpg @magnayuki88 @dragontamer222 @nicholas-andrew99

[hergrandplan]

Wilmon didn't break up... and here's why

Last analysis for now (then i'm just gonna write my feelings into fic) but I know we're all worried about that final scene. However, not only does it solidify my belief in endgame from a storytelling/build-up perspective, I am having a hard time believing Simon is actually breaking up with Wille in the first place. I think, this is him reaching out, telling Wille he's scared, sharing his feelings. He's not going about it well but really, these boys are still not great at communicating to each other.

And the reason why I think this, is because Simon got into bed with Wille.

Let me set the scene: it's Wille's name day, a terrible one I think we can all agree on, and Simon is upset and Wille is upset and no one is really having a great time. This is the first time Simon's actually seen Wille lash out. As someone else pointed out, we know Wille has anger issues. Simon doesn't. Well, now I guess he does. He's scared. He's terrified. He didn't know the boy he's so madly in love with could do this. And we know Simon has a history of violence from someone close to him as well. All in all, he has many feelings. And so, he goes talking to Wille about it.

"I can't do this" is, admittedly, a little bit of a weird thing to say but again, Simon and communication aren't really the best of friends.

But it's Wille's birthday and I like to believe that Simon has the common sense to at least not literally break up with him on his birthday. Not to mention, he's in the middle of nowhere, in a strange place. Like in terms of terrible timing, it really can't get worse than that. He has no place to go besides the bed, and I think it would be very awkward to break up with your boyfriend and to then try and fall asleep next to him.

It could be that it's a heat of the moment thing, sure. But that doesn't change one very important detail: he actually gets in the bed, behind Wille.

If it's a break up, he probably had been toying with the idea before he got back to the bedroom. Nothing explosive happened in that scene to make him decide right then and there. If it was a break up, it would have made more sense for him to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Wille. they still wouldn't have been able to see each other's faces, there still could have been a dramatic turn around or sit up. But from the edge of the bed it would have been easier to leave (to another room, the palace, wherever).

But no. simon gets into bed with Wille, indicating that he's at least planning on falling asleep there (or trying to).

Either Simon is just really dumb, and doesn't think things through, or he's not actually breaking up with him.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.