#and like. i’m Fine with people using other language for it but i don’t think it’s ableist to say with/has adhd

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [12] - Pressure

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 And please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Having a high pressure job has its consequences.

Warnings: Explicit language, panic attacks.

Word Count: 4.9k

Series Masterlist

The news of the breakup spread like wildfire.

To be honest, you hadn’t expected anything different. This had to be one of the rare times that Caleb hated being in PR because even you could tell that he was working way too hard.

And of course, your name had been brought up multiple times, but so far there wasn’t anything actually threatening thanks to Bucky and Hazel having attended the gala together right before they broke up. 

“Mom, how did you know dad was the one?”

Your mother looked up from the bowl she was mixing the cake mixture in, then let out a laugh.

“What brought this on?”

“Just curious.” You dangled your legs from the high stool and sipped your coffee before putting the mug on the kitchen island. “Also, I would like to ask again, why are we in the kitchen? You don’t cook.”

“I’m baking.”

“You don’t bake either.”

“Well, one of the girls in my spiritual retreat said it would be a good bonding practice between mothers and daughters.”

You pulled your brows together.

“I guess today is good as any to start,” you murmured. “Fine, okay. We’re bonding, see? Tell me how you knew, other than the fact that he dazzled you with money.”

“Oh I didn’t care about the money.”

You tilted your head. “Uh, are you sure? I mean no offense obviously, but I always assumed money played a part. Safety and all that.”

“I did feel safe with him but that had nothing to do with the money.”

“So you were actually in love with him.”

“I was and I am.”

You made a face. “Oh come on, that I don’t buy. You can be honest, there’s no way you’re still in love with him.”

“Why not?”

You let out a laugh. “Because he’s evil?”

She rolled her eyes and started pouring the mixture into the cupcake tray. “He’s not evil, honey.”

“Well…” You cleared your throat. “I mean he has been bribing and extorting politicians for decades so that things work the way he wants them to work. That’s like, textbook bad. Disney movie bad.”

“Funny, I heard a lot of people say Bucky Barnes is a bad man, but you seem very eager to defend him.”

“That has nothing to do with—okay, let’s never ever put Bucky in the same category with dad ever again,” you said with a laugh. “It’s kind of like lumping The Night King and Jon Snow together.”

“I didn’t watch that show.”

“They’re like complete opposites.” You took another sip of your coffee. “Let me put it this way; Bucky would sacrifice his own life to save someone, dad would sacrifice the whole world to save himself.”

“And you, and me.”

You made a noise of disagreement.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you said. “You yes. Me, doubtful.”

“He does love you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t.” You shrugged your shoulders. “And I don’t mind, really.”

“He does,” your mother insisted. “It’s just that, you’re both very stubborn and don’t know how to communicate.”

“That and our political stances and our principles and our goals are very different.”

“So what?” she asked as if it was just trivial, and you scoffed a laugh.

“You seriously don’t mind what he does?” you asked. “All those people he hurt? All the corruption?”

“I’m not interested in what he does at work. I’m interested in what kind of a man he is with us, his family.”

You grimaced. “That’s not how it works, mom.”

“It’s how it works with me.”

You rubbed at your eyes, heaving a sigh. “I guess this just proves it.”

“Proves what?”

“I’ve always thought that…” you trailed off. “I’ve always thought you and him were just meant to be together, but I wasn’t supposed to be in the picture.”

“Never say that!” She gasped. “We love you!”

“That’s not it,” you said with a weak smile. “No, you guys make sense together, in some very weird and unhealthy way. But I don’t, you know what I mean?”

“That’s so not true,” she said, putting pieces of chocolate into the batter in the pan. “And as I’ve said, your father loves you and me. What he does at work doesn’t matter.”

“It actually does,” you said. “You might be able to pick and choose, but I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Is that why you broke up with Max?”

“That dickhead voted for the opposition.”

She turned to you. “Please tell me you didn’t break up with him over that.”

“See? It doesn’t matter to you,” you said. “But it matters to me. And hey, it’s a good thing I dumped him, apparently he was cheating on me anyway.”

Her jaw dropped and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “Aw I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” you said. “I mastered the art of detachment thanks to the revolving door of nannies you guys kept changing when I was little, so it’s okay.”

“Well, we just didn’t know who was the best for you.”

You bit at your lip to hold back your retort.

“How’s everything at work?” she asked. “Are those rumors still going on?”

“Well, to some extent but no picture or anything,” you said. “Just whispers.”

“And you like him?”

“Professionally, yes.”

Bullshit.

It was a good thing that your mother hardly ever spent time with you, she didn’t know how to read you.

The truth was that every day your feelings for Bucky were getting deeper. You knew that Hazel was right, you knew the risks but somehow, when you thought about him kissing you…

Your brain just refused to be logical.

Granted that didn’t mean you were going to throw all the caution to the wind, but you were wondering if something was wrong with you if that didn’t intimidate you as much as it was supposed to.

“A lot of my friends think he’s too handsome to be in politics.” Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “And they have a lot of questions.”

“About him?”

She hummed and walked to the oven to take a look at it. “Which button do I turn?”

You jumped from the stool to turn the button. “This one.”

“Aw thank you,” she said as she put the tray in, then closed it and turned to you. “So what’s he like?”

You took your seat again. “In politics?”

“In his daily life. Why did he and that girl break up?”

You cleared your throat. “Um, difference in opinions.”

“On what?”

“No idea, that’s what I’ve been told.”

She hummed, sitting down as well. “And you guys are close?”

“Professionally.”

“But you consider him a friend as well?” she asked. “I don’t know many people who are friends with their boss.”

“You don’t know many people with a boss.”

“Fair,” she admitted. “But that’s irrelevant. Tell me more about him, we’re all curious. Is he nice?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“To you? Even with all these rumors?”

You couldn’t help but smile, then nodded your head.

“He um…” you trailed off, biting your lip. “He’s amazing, mom. I know a lot of people think there are still traces of the Winter Soldier in him, but it’s not like that at all. He’s the sweetest, I’d trust him with my life. He even—”

You stopped yourself and your mother leaned in, curiosity shining in her eyes. “What?”

“He got Blinky back for me.”

She blinked a couple of times in confusion. “Who’s Blinky?”

Of course.

You hesitated for a second before you forced yourself to smile and shook your head.

“It’s not important,” you mumbled. “Anyways, enough about me, how was your retreat?”

                                                *

The next day, you didn’t even have the time to go to lunch. You had to work on the draft Bucky had asked you to, and of course you had volunteered to go over the revisions Lucas had sent you just so that you could impress Congresswoman Gray, and your phone kept buzzing with emails every two minutes.

And for some reason, everything was louder today.

You took a deep breath, willing your heartbeat to calm down as you clenched and unclenched your hands, staring at the screen before you deleted the last line, and added a new one.

“Please don’t tell me we’re back to skipping lunch for work.”

Your fingers froze over the keyboard before you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky watching you, leaning against the doorframe.

“I had a protein bar and like two cups of red eye, I’m fine.”

His worried gaze raked over you, making your heartbeat even faster.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“I’ll eat when I’m done with this.” You nodded at the screen and he came to lean against your desk, making you bite back a smile.

“Birdie.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh at his teasing tone and looked up at him. “Hm?”

“Let’s have lunch.”

“You literally came back from lunch.”

“I can eat again.” He started tilting the screen of your laptop down but you batted his hand away, then fixed the screen again. “It’s a metabolism thing.”

“Super soldier metabolism?”

“Mm hm.”

“Good for you, I’m too busy,” you said. “I already spent enough time doing nothing with my mom yesterday when I was supposed to go over this, so…”

“You were with your mom?” he asked. “How did that go?”

“Dad wasn’t home so it was fine. Ish.”

“Fine-ish?”

“My mom doesn’t really know much about me but the parts she knows, she loves to dismiss,” you said. “They make a terrific couple with my dad, terrible parents though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said. “Without them, my old therapist wouldn’t have been able to buy her second Ferrari, so I guess it wasn’t a total disaster.”

“And you can tell me all about it while we’re having lunch.”

You turned to your laptop. “Take a powder, Barnes.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the clear confusion on his face but it turned into an amused smile, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“How did you…?”

“Hey, I could have an extensive vocabulary.” You grinned at him. “You don’t know my lexicon.”

“Right. Why do I feel like you googled 40s slang?”

“I once saw you google if lavender is edible, so how about we stop pointing fingers?” you asked and he shook his head vigorously.

“In my defense, Kelsey got me a lavender latte and insisted I had to try it.”

“And what did you think? Your assistant was trying to poison you?”

He shot you a look as if you were asking him a question with a very obvious answer. “It’s Kelsey.”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Fair enough,” you said. “But come on, she—”

You stopped talking when your phone started buzzing, making both you and Bucky turn your glances to the screen, and you both frowned at the same time.

“He’s still calling you?” Bucky asked and held out his hand for you to give him the phone, but you shook your head.

“I’ll handle him,” you said and answered the phone. “Max, go fu—”

“Wait wait, don’t hang up,” he cut you off. “I swear, this will be very civil and you’re gonna want to listen to what I have to say.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on your chair while Bucky kept his eyes on you.

“What?” you asked crossly and he took a deep breath.

“I saw that piece about you and Barnes.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“A journalist contacted me,” he said in a rush. “He wanted to know whether there was anything going on between you and him while we were still dating.”

Your stomach dropped, your eyes snapping up to Bucky before you gritted your teeth.

“And let me guess,” you said. “You told him you’d think about it and now you’re calling me to ask for something.”

“No actually,” he said. “I told him we broke up because I cheated on you, because you put your career over our relationship, the very same career you wouldn’t risk for anyone much less your boss.”

You pulled back slightly. “…What?”

“I gathered ambitious bitch sounded better than greedy slut. Not that you’re either of those but you know, the guy was an asshole.”

 You let out a surprised laugh.

“You’re telling me you had the perfect opportunity to fuck with me and you didn’t take it?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not asking for anything in return?”

“No, I just wanted to let you know,” he said. “If they called me, it means they’re working on a piece.” 

You frowned, drumming your fingernails on the desk.

“And why would you do this without asking for anything in return?”

He fell quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“Tessa said she’d leave me if I didn’t go to therapy,” he said. “And my therapist made me realize it wasn’t cool, what I did. What with keeping Blinky and stuff.”

“By ‘stuff’ you mean cheating on me, or the ultimatum or going behind my back at voting?” you asked and he took a deep breath.

“Yeah. Sorry about all that.”

As much as you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, you figured this was at least just a little progress.

Very little, but either way.

“Well, what do you know?” you muttered. “I mean you’re still an asshole, that goes without saying but I appreciate the heads up.”

“My therapist says I have um… he says I am scared of emotional intimacy. That’s why I cheated on you, he says.”

“Yeah Max, because he can’t say you’re an asshole. You’re paying him.”

“I guess.” He snorted a laugh. “How’s DC?”

“Full of people who’d love to step on your back for their own gain. I haven’t slept in two days.”

Bucky shot you a disapproving look but you waved a hand in the air.

“So you’re having the time of your life?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s good—” He started but you heard another voice coming from the other line, probably his assistant. “I uh, sorry, I gotta go. Work thing.”

“I gathered,” you replied. “It’s almost five minutes.”

“…Yeah, that wasn’t cool either,” he said. “Also sorry about that.”

“Listen, how about I send you a list of things you should be sorry for and we can get all of them out the way?”

He let out a chuckle. “That’d make therapy so much easier. Can I call or email you to apologize then?”

“Call me and I’ll see if I’m in the forgiving mood,” you said and hung up, then looked up at Bucky.

“So, great news,” you said. “A journalist asked Max if you and I had an affair while I was with him, but he said no.”

“And he didn’t ask for anything in return?”

“He’s doing therapy, as it turns out,” you said. “My belief in psychology has been renewed because honestly, if they can make Max apologize…”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smile and you bounced your leg, biting inside your cheek.

“We need to find who this journalist is.”

“I will.” His voice was completely calm. “And I’ll take care of it.”

“You can’t threaten him.”

“If he didn’t want me to threaten him, he shouldn’t have dragged you into whatever nonsense he’s working on,” he said, making your heart skip a beat. “That’s just not how it works.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “I thought I was the one protecting you.”

He winked at you. “It’s a two-way street.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as he turned his head to look at the approaching footsteps before Caleb appeared at the door and let out a groan.

“I’m like two seconds away from assigning a chaperone to you like we’re in Georgian era,” he said. “Bucky, you might be familiar with that.”

“Wrong century, Caleb.”

“Well, how about we don’t start another fire when I’ve just extinguished the other one?”

You held up your hands and turned your attention to the screen, your cheeks burning and Bucky heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the desk.

“Make her eat something.”

“I will but did you have the chance to think about what I said?”

You looked between them. “What did you say?”

“Caleb thinks we all should have a barbeque at my new place,” Bucky said. “Something something PR.” 

“It would show you’re still relatable and that you’re doing fine after the breakup.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” you mused. “I haven’t been to your new place yet, and I missed Alpine.”

“And the team would love it,” Caleb added and Bucky’s gaze stopped on you as if he was torn between ideas, then cleared his throat.

“Yeah, whatever,” he told Caleb who pumped his fist in the air in victory. “Just let me know when.”

“Will do!”

“And I’m not locking Alpine in the room,” he said as he walked into his office. “She gives me an attitude for days when I do that.”

Caleb approached you to plop down on the chair next to your desk.

“Thanks for convincing him.”

“I barely said anything.”

“Well, I’ve been begging him for a week and one word from you…” he trailed off and you shook your head, then turned to him.

“Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“There’s something you need to know as Bucky’s communications director.”

His grin wiped off his face in a second. “What?”

“There’s a journalist,” you said. “And apparently he’s been asking questions about me and Bucky.”

Caleb ran a hand over his face, cussing under his breath.

“Of course,” he said and pulled out his phone. “It was getting a bit too peaceful today, so why not? Be right back.”

You watched him walk out of the office and pressed your hands on your eyes before you dropped them, straightening your back.

“It’s fine,” you murmured to yourself as you turned your attention back to the screen. “It’s totally fine.”

                                      *

As your anxiety would show you; it was not, in fact, fine.

You had spent the whole day working, and now almost everyone had left but Kelsey and Bucky, both of whom were in a meeting with Congressman Murray.

And you. Working overtime.

It was already dark out, and the only thing illuminating the office was your laptop screen. You could feel the migraine slowly making its way to your temples. For the whole day, your chest hadn’t stopped feeling tight, like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs especially after Max had told you about the journalist. In addition to all that, the work you had to cover was getting bigger and bigger, you still had one hundred pages to go over, and to make the necessary edits.

In other news, you might have bitten more than you could chew.

You typed away at the keyboard, forcing yourself to hum a melody in hopes of calming yourself down before you got up from your chair to make your way to Bucky’s office. You grabbed the file from his desk and went back to your desk, but before you could sit down, your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up.

From: Dad

We need to talk about the journalist.

And just like that, your line of sight grew narrow, darkness swallowing everything else other than the phone.

To your terror, you could feel the familiar tingling spreading over your face as your throat tightened, the breath you were taking getting stuck there. A fire burned through your chest, twisting your heart harder and harder while it tried to escape from your ribcage. You could feel your whole body beginning to shake, the floor getting wobbly underneath your feet like quicksand as you took a step back, grasping at your throat with one hand.

You’re not dying.

It’s a panic attack, you’re not dying.

Except that you were sinking.

You held onto the desk with one hand and managed to crouch down to sit on the floor as the room started spinning, your heart pounding in your ears. Nausea crashed down on you while you tried to get enough air in your lungs, your other hand balling up into fist tight enough to cramp.

You’re not dying.

You couldn’t even tell if it was tears or cold sweat running down your face; it was probably both. Your hand on your throat slipped down to your chest to press on it in hopes of soothing the pain there while you forced yourself to take another breath.

You’re not dying.

You see a laptop, you see a chair, you see a—

You hadn’t even heard Bucky stepping into the office before he rushed to you, his hands grasping your upper arms, almost frantically checking you for injuries like he wanted to see if you were bleeding.

“Birdie?”

“Not dying,” you managed to gasp out. “Panic attack.”

That made him stop only for a moment, a look of absolute relief crossing his face and he let out a breath.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re breathing very fast right now, can you breathe with me?”

You nodded your head, taking a shaky breath at the same time as him, then exhaled. For almost a minute, you followed his lead and once you weren’t breathing as fast, he gave you a small smile.

“There you go,” he said. “Five things you can see?”

That made your eyes snap to his as you took another breath. “How do you—?”

“Five things,” he said and you exhaled.

“Laptop,” you rasped out. “Chair. Papers. Desk. My fox figure on my desk.”

“Four things you can hear.”

You tried to focus, pulling your brows together.

“Your voice,” you said. “Footsteps from the hallway. AC.  Um…”

“One more.”

“The laptop running,” you said, pressing your palm on the floor. “And three things I can feel are…the marble floor, and sweat dripping down the back of my neck, which is fucking disgusting—”

“Birdie, focus.”

“And um, the wind. From the AC.”

“And two things you can—”

“Smell. Your cologne and paper. I just printed a bunch of stuff.” 

“And one thing you can taste?”

“Blood. I bit my tongue too hard.”

His eyes searched your face and you let out another shaky breath, exhaustion creeping up on you as you leaned your head back to the wall. Bucky hesitated for a second before he sat beside you, leaning back against the wall.

“How do you know grounding techniques?” you asked after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Mandatory therapy.”

“Ah,” you said, fixing your eyes on the ceiling. “Interesting.”

“And I’m guessing this is not your first panic attack?” he asked, making you scoff a laugh.

“Nope,” you said. “Been having them since I was like twelve.”

Bucky’s brows pulled into a frown. “Twelve?”

“Yup,” you said. “As it turns out, if you put too much pressure on a kid and yell at them whenever they didn’t meet the expectations, their brain gets messed up. Who would’ve known?”

“I’m going to kill your father.”

“You can’t,” you said. “If he’s dead, who’s gonna go around crossroads to make deals for people’s souls?”

“Birdie.”

“I’m fine,” you said even if your arms felt way too heavy when you raised your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead. “This happens, no big deal.”

“How often?”

“Not regular,” you said. “Sometimes. But let me tell you, I would not last a day back in the 1940s. I saw those documentaries, my husband would send me off to an asylum and they’d try to lobotomize—”

“I’m giving you time off.”

“Tough shit, I’m not taking it.”

He gave you a look. “I’ll change the locks to the office.”

“I’ll work in the hallway.”

He ran a hand over his face as if he was straining his mind to come up with a solution and you wiggled your brows despite exhaustion.

“Sorry. I guess you shouldn’t have hired me, huh?”

“If I hadn’t hired you, neither of us would be here,” he said and thought for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t be, at least. You would have probably made someone else win so you’d be here.”

“I wouldn’t have worked for someone else,” you murmured and he licked his lips.

“Please take some time off.”

“Nope.”

“You either take some time off, or I’m hiring someone to help you out with the workload.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky, no.”

“Bucky yes.”

“I don’t trust anyone else with what I do,” you said. “They’re gonna miss something, some detail and then I’ll have to go over what they did anyway.”

“Either vacation, or this,” he said, his voice signaling this was not open to discussion. “You’re not leaving me with many options here.”

“There is an option!” you exclaimed. “The system we have works.”

“It obviously doesn’t if you haven’t slept in two days and the workload is triggering a panic attack.”

“It didn’t though!” you insisted. “It’s a coincidence, not a chain of events.”

“I’m not risking it.”

You huffed out, slipping a little on the floor and crossing your arms while Bucky’s lips twitched into a fond smile.

“You’re pouting.”

“I’m not pouting, I’m contemplating,” you corrected him and gritted your teeth, then rolled your eyes. “Fine. I’ll give the okay though, whoever you hire. I need to make sure they can handle this whole thing.”

“Didn’t think otherwise.”

You let out a noise of displeasure, exhaustion still heavy on your whole body and you leaned your head on his shoulder with a tired sigh. He dipped his head to nuzzle into your hair, making your stomach do a happy flip and you played with the bracelet around your wrist.

“Bucky?”

He hummed into your hair. 

“How did it go with Murray?”

He raised his lips from your hair so that you could hear him; “We’re not talking about work right now.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” you said with a pout. “How are you handling the breakup?”

That made him fall quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“I’m fine.”

You lifted your head and sat up straighter to look up at him better.

“Are you?” you insisted. “For real? Because I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. I mean no offense but Hazel is kind of perfect.”

“She is,” Bucky said immediately. “She really is, but I don’t think—uh, I don’t think I was the right person for her.

Your heart sped up again but this time instead of dread, all you could feel was excitement rushing through your veins.

“…Oh,” you managed to say. “Why not?”

That made him fall quiet for a moment, his gaze slipping down to your lips before it snapped up to your eyes again. You couldn’t help but notice his throat bobbed nervously, and he took a deep breath as if he was trying to gather up courage.

Which was insane.

You had seen him throw himself in danger over and over again without so much as a second of hesitation.

“Because,” he started, his voice soft, “Birdie, I—”

“Hello?” Kelsey’s voice carried out from the doorway, snapping both of you out of your daze. “Guys?”

You loved Kelsey but you could swear that the urge to scream at her was way too strong.

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment as if he shared the sentiment, then opened them again, his jaw tightening. You sat up straighter and raised your hand from beside the desk.

“Over here, Kels.”

“What the fuck are you two doing on the floor?” Kelsey asked as she made her way to you and you exchanged glances, then turned to her.

“I…we—uh—”

“I think better when I’m sitting on the floor,” Bucky cut you off and Kelsey tilted her head.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s a habit from the 1940s.”

Kelsey looked from him to you while Bucky stood up, then offered his hand for you to take it, a warmth spreading from your hand to your arm. You were still exhausted, but you looked up at him and mouthed ‘thank you’. Bucky squeezed your hand in an assuring manner, and you turned to Kelsey.

“Are we going home?”

“Sure, let’s.”

“Call me when you get home?” Bucky murmured and you nodded your head, giving him a small smile, then grabbed your purse off the desk and followed Kelsey out of the office.

“Please don’t tell me you two were having sex on the office floor.”

You let out a laugh, then shook your head.

“We were talking about his ex,” you said and cracked your neck, making a face. “And oh, before I forget, Caleb says we’ll have a barbeque at Bucky’s place this Saturday.”

“At Bucky’s place?” she asked. “All of us?”

“Mm hm, the whole team and I think Sam and Sarah will come too.”

Kelsey grinned at you.

“Just let me know if you happen to find yourself in his bedroom and need me to distract others,” she joked. “During the house tour, that is.”

You pushed at her arm gently.

“There’s gonna be people there,” you reminded her. “Lots of people. Hypothetically, even if Bucky liked me like that—”

“Did they raise you in a convent?”

“That would still be impossible,” you said as if she didn’t interrupt you. “Which by the way, he doesn’t.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t even think he finds me hot, to be honest with you,” you said. “It’s like Hazel said. He entertains my crush, that’s it.”

Kelsey threw her head back.

“You are so oblivious,” she groaned. “This barbecue—”

“Will be just a barbecue,” you said. “Some PR thing, that’s it. I assure you.”

[veal-exe]

I’m going to go ahead and link the post I wrote on misappropriated leftist language since you seem confused about what counts as radical speech and what is, in fact, just being a self-congratulatory asshole.

There is a difference between not being up to date on language, or using the wrong language, and knowingly calling someone 'a stupid tranny'

You are not being transgressive. You are not being edgy in a meaningful or liberatory way. You’re just saying slurs on someone else’s post like a teenager trying to prove you’re the most punk person at the school assembly, and somehow thinking that makes you clever instead of embarrassing. Let me make this simple for you: calling a trans person a slur they haven’t consented to, in a context where it clearly is not welcome, is not activism. It’s not neutral. It’s not anything but hostile.

You can scream “context” all you want, context includes the power dynamics of a space. You’re replying to a post I made calling out harm, and instead of showing basic respect to the community in the inter-community conversation happening, or the person who wrote the post, you decided to swing in and drop a slur because you use it “neutrally.” Which you did not by the way, don't delude yourself, calling someone a 'Tranny Loser' is not fucking neutral.

Okay. Great. You know who else thinks their use of that word is “neutral”? Cis people who haven't learned what language they're allowed to use for other people and who don't care. Do you want to be in that company? You’re closer to them right now than you are to anything resembling praxis.

You say you “use that word regularly.” That’s your business. I do too for myself and people who consent to it, like buddy, I'm Tranny. That doesn’t give you license to throw it around on other people’s content or to use it for trans people who you don't know personally who haven't reclaimed it.

Reclamation is not universal just because you’re trans. That’s not how community works. That’s not how slurs work. That’s not how respect works. If someone hasn’t opted into that language with you, you don’t get to slap it onto them and then act shocked when people don’t cheer you on for being bold and rebellious. The Queer Community doesn't even call fellow individual LGBTQIA+ Queer without consent/knowing reclamation because it is overwhelmingly considered uhh Not Fucking Cool. And I say that as someone who knows that Queer is only really used as a slur in pockets these days.

And comparing your behavior to a Black person using the n-word with another Black person? That’s not just disingenuous it’s laughable. You are not part of an equivalent dynamic here, calling another person a Tranny Loser in the trans community is not the same as black people reclaiming words in their community as a whole, and you clearly don’t understand the history or gravity of what you’re invoking. You’re not “punching up.” You’re punching sideways and calling it solidarity while stepping on people’s toes and insisting they thank you for it.

You seem like the kind of person who reads the first paragraph of a leftist zine and thinks it gives you carte blanche to do harm as long as you talk like a Tumblr-era anarchist. It doesn’t. Your tone policing accusations don’t scare me. Your performance of not caring doesn’t land. You can yell about how not-a-slur it is all you want, you’re still using my post to do harm in a way that I won't allow.

Let me say it again:

this is not a debate. I am telling you to Fuck Off and Get Fucked. I don’t care if it was casual or deliberate, you don’t get to put on your cool kid baby idiot hat and call that boundary invalid just because you’ve decided your usage of a slur is enlightened and everyone else is “throwing a hissy fit" you dumb motherfucker.

You came into my house and tracked mud across my carpet, and now you want to argue that because you’re used to walking in filth, I should be fine with it.

No. Get the fuck out.

The only place white cis men have in trans discourse is sitting down, being quiet, learning, and standing up for trans people against their fellow cis people.

That also means not blindly parroting hateful transphobic rhetoric from other trans people, because some trans people are transphobic (TRFs, Transmeds, Truscum, etc), as an example, if you were a white cis man and you had a trans friend who was constantly telling you that say, and I’m gonna make something up here that hasn’t happened, but say you have a trans friend who’s constantly saying people who don’t want to start HRT aren’t REALLY trans.

you would have no business thinking, repeating, or pushing that. You’re obligated to listen to the whole community, not just the ONE trans friend you have spewing bigoted rhetoric. This goes doubly so if your bigoted trans friend is white because then they should also be sitting down and listening to the poc in the community.

Cis White Men have no place giving their thoughts and opinions about how the kind of trans person they like less isn’t oppressed. They definitely don’t get to say they ‘have tboy swag’ while being actively transphobic and uplifting TRFs, stop, cis white boy, stop, etc.

Cis white women don’t either ftr, no cis person does, but this is about a specific event.

[cabaretofghosts]

i’ve noticed a rise in people using “adhd people” and “adhders” and was wondering how common this was and how much of an issue it’s seen as across the adhd community !! hope the options make sense lol

rb for a wider sample size pretty please

[leclerc-hs]

romantic chocolates - cs55

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend take aphrodisiac chocolates at the same party OR you and carlos fuck after not seeing each other for months warnings: smut smut smut!!! spit kink, language, ex-boyfriend!!!, slight jealousy, p in v, unprotected! NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos and might not make sense), angst, hot hot hot word count: 2.8k author's note: hi hi! so sorry this is late and hope y'all still like this!!! I was gonna make it longer but my brain has been a little fried from all the writing I've been doing so sorry if you think this is trash. TRIED MY BEST xoxo

ln4 cl16 mv1 op81 cs55

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You swore you’d never see him again.

Not at this party, not in this city. Especially not after what he did. You hadn’t seen Carlos Sainz in nearly seven months. Not since he ended things in the most heartless way imaginable. A half-shrug and the words this isn’t working anymore.

No softness. No chance to ask why. Just a door shutting behind him as he left.

So seeing him now. Casual, jaw sharp, in a white shirt with the top two unbuttons done and a amber liquid in a short glass in his hand…is enough to make your stomach cave in.

You were doing fine. Laughing, sipping your drinks. Picking at chocolate from one of those ridiculous little tray’s one of the host’s friends handed you. 

“Supposed to be spiked,” She said. “Like, aphrodisiac spiked.”

And you laughed. Popped one in your mouth. Moved on.

Forgot about it. 

Until now.

He’s leaning against the bar, sleeves rolled up, in conversation with someone. 

Your heart lurches.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. You even checked. Avoided his circles and favorite places like the plague. Blocked his number, deleted his socials. Haven’t even said his name in months.

Not since he left you shaking in a hallway with mascara running down your face.

You’re careful not to look in his direction again.

Not toward the bar. Not to his tanned forearms. Not to the curve of his throat.

You don’t even know who he’s talking to…and you won’t give yourself the chance to find out either.

Instead, you disappear into another group of people. Let someone refill your drink. Let someone else laugh into your ear. 

And suddenly everything starts to feel a little too sharp. Your dress clinging to your skin in places it didn’t before. And the insides of your thigh’s feel damp.

Your stomach tenses and suddenly you can’t stop thinking about the fucking chocolate. The stupid little square. The way it melted so easily on your tongue. Tasted good too.

And your nipples are hard beneath your dress. Can feel the ache low in your belly. 

So you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Walk into a darkly lit hallway. It’s pretty quiet except for the hum of music behind the wall.

You turn the corner. Not watching where you’re going. Just trying to breathe. Cool off.

And then you collide with him.

Hard chest. Solid. Familiar scent. And that body. The body you used to know with your eyes shut.

You breathe in sharply. 

And your hands press into his chest before you can stop yourself. Trying to brace for a fall.

His hand shoots out quick, steadying you. Fingers hot against the strip of skin at your side. And you jolt.

He’s already looking at you.

Like he knew this would happen. Like he was waiting for it.

“Careful, cariño,” his voice is smooth. Low. Thick with something you don’t want to acknowledge. “Didn’t see you there.”

You step back quickly. Almost stumbling away from him.

“Jesus,” you snap. “What the fuck are you…”

“Walking,” he shrugs his shoulders. Cocking his head. “Relax.”

You straighten. Glare at him. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Didn’t know this was your party.” He grins.

“It’s not,” you cross your arms along your chest.

“Then I guess I’m allowed to be here,” His voice low. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You glare. But the heat building between your legs makes it hard to hold your ground. Your skin is fucking burning. Pulse pounding.

And he’s close. Too fucking close.

You hate him. You hate how he left. You hate the fucking smirk on his face. You hate that’s he’s the only person who’s ever made you come so hard that you couldn’t speak for minutes after.

And he’s looking at you with those dark eyes like he knows. Like he can see the flush in your cheeks. The tremble in your hands.

“You’re flushed,” He mutters.

You roll your eyes. “So? It’s warm in here.”

“Mmm.” His gaze flicks down, lingers at your stomach. “I’d believe that…y’know?…If I didn’t see you eat one of those chocolates earlier.”

Your stomach twists.

“What?”

You try to take a step back, but he follows. Lazily. Easily. Cutting off your exit without even lifting a hand.

“Tell me,” he mutters. “How long have you been feeling it?”

His voice is low. Slow. The kind of tone he used to use when his hand was already slipped in between your legs.

“Fuck off, Carlos.”

“You’re already fucking yourself in your head,” He says. Taunting.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re flushed.”

His gaze drags over you. From your eyes, down to your mouth, pausing for a few moments, then down to your chest.

“Just look at you,” He says. “So fidgety. Breathing as if I’ve got my fingers shoved up in you already.”

You want to slap him. But you don’t. Every word lands directly between your fucking legs.

“You always got like this whenever I touched you. So fucking easy.” He laughs. “One hand on your throat and you’d fuckin’ melt for me, yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming.

“You used to beg me to talk like this…remember?”

Your knees are weak.

“Used to get so fuckin’ dumb for me.” He whispers. “All I had to do was say a few things and you’d be soaking.”

Your stomach clenches and you breathe hard. Trying to swallow the whimper in your throat. But he see’s it. Of course he does.

“Still like that, huh?” He grins. “You’re squirming, baby.”

“Carlos…”

“No. Don’t say my name like that.” His voice is sharp. “Not unless you’re gonna say it while you’re moaning and begging again.”

You take a step back. But he follows. Again. Cruelly. Like he’s savoring the way you’re falling apart. Slowly.

“Used to talk to you like this while I fucked you from behind, yeah?” His lips hover by your ear. “One hand in your hair. One on your hip. And I’d say the filthiest shit…just to feel your pussy clench around my cock.”

Your fingers curl into the wall behind you.

“I’d tell you how tight you were. How fuckin’ wet. How you were made for me.”

You clench your jaw. Body fuckin’ buzzing.

He brushes a hand near your jaw. Hovering. Not touching.

“Bet if I put two fingers in you, you’d come instantly.”

Your thighs are pressed so tightly together it hurts. But you don’t move. 

“I hate you.”

“No.” He grunts. “You hate that no one else can get you off the way I can.”

You flinch.

“Want me to remind you how good you were?” His voice is dark. “How you used to ride my fingers like a good fucking slut while I spat in your mouth?”

Your legs nearly give out.

“Still got that pretty moan?” He breathes.

“Fuck you.” You shove him back. Hard.

He doesn’t expect it, and stumbles back. Catches himself quick.

And you adjust your dress. Lift your chin.

“You haven’t changed.” You say, voice full of disgust.

You push past him. Don’t even look over your shoulder as you say, “I’ll go find someone else. Someone who isn’t a fucking coward.”

And that’s when you hear the scrape of his shoe against the floor.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You feel it before you turn. Him storming up to you. Something unhinged in his presence.

You turn your head. And his face? 

Grin gone. He looks furious.

“Y’think I’m gonna let you walk out there and let someone else fuck you?” He grunts. “Let some idiot put his hands on you?”

You blink. “I’m not yours.”

“The fuck you’re not.”

And he’s in front of you again. Shoulders tense. Chest heaving.

“Y’think I didn’t see it? The way your thighs were rubbing together like you couldn’t stand a single second without my cock shoved up there?”

He steps closer. “You can pretend all you want. But you walk out there, and I swear to fuckin’ God…”

He stops. Fists clenched.

“You want someone else? Go ahead.” His voice is sharp. “Let them try to fuck you the way I did.”

You swallow.

“Let them try to make you come with nothing but their hand around your throat and two fingers buried in that needy cunt.”

And you see it.

The edge in his eyes. The small flush in his cheeks. Chest rising. Vein in his neck.

You narrow your eyes.

“You took one too.”

And he laughs. Shaky.

“Yeah.” His voice low. “Didn’t think much of it, til I saw you…and now I can’t fucking breathe.”

His hands are clenched.

“Been hard for an hour,” He groans. “Every time I close my eyes I picture you on your knees.”

He laughs again. Bitter. 

“I’m gonna say this once,” His voice cracks. Feral. “No one else gets to touch you.”

You glare. “You don’t get to say that. You left..”

“I know,” He cuts you off. Snapping. “I know I did. And I fucking hate myself for it.”

His forehead drops to yours. Body trembling.

“But I swear…I swear if anyone else touches you tonight…if anyone gets to learn how fucking wet you are..”

He groans. Like he’s in pain.

“I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

And his hips roll toward you once. And it sends a zap of heat straight to your core.

His cock is fucking hard. Straining. Throbbing.

“Fuck,” He mutters. “Y’feel that? Feel what you do to me?”

Your hands find his chest, but not to pull him away. Just to feel him. His heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” His voice is wrecked. “Haven’t. Even when I tried to fuck someone else…I’d have to close my eyes and picture it was your cunt squeezing me.”

You whimper. Lips trembling.

“Yeah,” He groans. “That sound. Fuck..that’s the one.”

You don’t even have time to process it before he’s pulling you down the hall. Shoulders tense. And you stumble to keep up. Until he shoulders a door open and yanks you in after him.

A bathroom.

He kicks open the first stall. Slams it shut behind you both. 

Locks it.

And then his hands are on you.

And his mouth crashes into yours. Hot. Hungry. Teeth scraping your bottom lip like he wants to bite it. You gasp into him, and he groans like the sound alone might make him come.

“You still hate me?” He mutters against your mouth, dragging your dress up. Bunching the fabric.

“I do,” you whisper. “I fucking do.”

“So why the fuck are you this wet for me?” He cups you through the thin fabric of your panties. “Hm? Why’s your pussy begging for me if you hate me so much?”

You whimper. Grind against his hand. And all hell breaks loose.

“Fuck this.” He yanks your panties to the side.

Fingers slip through your folds and he outright groans. Loud. Like you’re ruining him.

“You need me this bad, baby?”

You nod. Desperate. Delirious.

“Say it.”

You hesitate.

He presses two fingers against your clit. Rubbing slow circles. Mean. 

“Carlos…”

“Say you need me.”

You’re breathless. “I need you.”

And that’s all it takes.

He’s undoing his pants, dragging them low enough to free his cock. Thick. Flushed. Leaking. Perfect. 

“I’m not gonna last,” he admits. Voice wrecked. “You feel too good. Look too pretty. M’gonna fuckin’ lose it.”

He grabs your thigh, hooks it over his hip.

And pushes in. All the way.

You cry out. Nails digging into his back as your pussy clenches down on him. 

He chokes on a gasp, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck…still so fuckin tight.” 

He doesn’t move. Breathing hard against your skin.

“No one else gets this. No one.” His voice is harsh. “Y’understand me? Say it.”

He starts moving. “Say it while I fuck you.”

And he slams back in. Hard.

“Yours,” you cry out. “I’m yours.”

And that’s all he needs.

Then he’s fucking you hard. Relentless. The stall doors shaking with each thrust. 

“Dirty fuckin’ whore.” He pants. “This pussy missed me, hm?”

His hands slip between your bodies, rubbing your clit.

“C’mon make it quick.” He mutters. “Cunt is choking my cock. Know you’re there.”

And you do. 

Your entire body snaps, clenching as you cry out his name. He grunts.

Groans, loud as he spills inside of you.

“Fuck, baby…” His neck is flushed. “Take it all.”

He’s still inside you. Still hard. When he presses a kiss to your throat.

“I need more.”

You nod without thinking. And you’re barely breathing before he slides out of you. Pulls up his pants. 

Grabs your wrist. 

Pulls you out of the stall. His come leaking down your thighs.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, just drags you down the hallway. His grip on you is strong. 

He finds the first empty door. Shoves it open. Slams it shut.

And the second you turn to face him, he’s on you.

Hands in your hair. Mouth on yours. Kissing you like it hurts. Dress ripped off in one swipe. Pants unbuttoned and shoved down. Shirt stripped off.

He walks you backwards until your knees hit something.

A mattress.

And then he shoves you down. Climbs over you. Dragging you to the edge of the bed like he owns you.

“Never should’ve let you go.” 

And he slams back into you.

You both moan.

“Still so perfect.” 

His hips move. Slow. Filthy.

He drops his head to your chest. Hips slamming into you harder. Losing control. 

“I’ve thought about this every fucking night.” He breathes. “My cock inside you. You coming all over me. Every single fucking night.”

You arch into him. And he snaps.

Slams into you. Again and again.

“You blocked me,” He grunts. Pushing in deeper. “Everywhere.”

He’s holding your wrists down on the bed, hips grinding into you.

“I fuckin’ tried, y’know that?” His voice is harsh. “Open.”

You do.

And he spits right onto your tongue. You moan. Shaky. Breathless.

“Swallow it.”

And you do. Instantly.

“I called. Texted. Showed up. And you just disappeared on me.”

His voice rough. Cracking. Eyes locked on you.

“Blocked me on every fucking thing,” he fucks you harder. “And now?”

He leans in closer. “Now you’re letting me back in with this pussy before you even let me apologize…before I even explain myself.”

You whimper. And he laughs. Mean.

“So fuckin’ easy.”

He splits you wide open, cock driving into you.

“Dios mío,” He breathe against your skin, voice cracking. “This fuckin’ body…” His hands slide against your skin. Possessive. 

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me.” He grunts. Voice hoarse. “And I ruined it. I know that I did.”

His hand slips down to rub your clit. Eyes never leaving yours.

“Mi puta,” He whispers into your ear. “Mía.”

“Come again,” he whispers. “One more time. Wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me and tell me you still want me.”

And when you do….

He follows.

“Fuck…fuck, I fucking love you.”

You’re not sure how long you stay like this.

Chest pressed against you. Legs tangled. Cock still buried in you.

Twitching like he doesn’t want to let you go.

And then he’s moving again. Slow. Deep. Mean. Hand tangled in your hair, holding your head against the mattress as you arch.

And then he spits into your mouth again.

“Swallow it, mi amor. Like a good girl.”

You do.

“Buena chica,” He grunts. “Always were. Always knew how to take it.”

And then he’s pushing your thighs up to your chest, slamming into you harder.

And you scream. 

“You still hate me?” He asks. Voice ruined.

You look at him. Eyes glassy. Breathless.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

And his hips slow. But he still hits you deep.

“No mientas,” He exhales. “Don’t lie.”

Your nails dig into his back. “I hate how much I missed this. Missed you.”

And he groans.

“Say you’re mine.”

“Soy tuya.” You breathe.

And then his mouth is on yours. Claiming.

And his hand circles your clit.

“Hazlo,” He hisses against your lips. “Come for me. Again. Vamos, mi amor.”

And you do. Gasping his name.

And he falls apart with you. Spilling inside you again.

And this time he collapses onto you. Slipping out.

His come leaking onto the sheets below you.

“I was scared,” He breathes. “Didn’t deserve you. Still don’t.”

You blink. Dazed.

“Didn’t even let me say sorry.”

You exhale. “You didn’t fucking try.”

He goes still. 

His eyes search yours. “What do I do now?”

You don’t answer. 

Just brush your fingers against the back of his neck. And you feel the way he shudders.

Just holding each other.

taglist: @jaspimirandera @amoothoperator @iloveallmyboys @fer23022003 @dyleclerc @annaswrites00 @pjmluvb @howling-wolf97 @marrykisskilled @frenchtwistedd @tabisswag @ayap4paya @astrlape @ptrickbateman @lilith-123321 @nyymarjr @its-avalon-08 @fastandcurious16 @mimisweetz @wandabillywrites @samanthaw16 @msimpala--67 @theonottsbxtch @prudyhoo @cendrineee @whistlef0rthechoir @idontknow0704 @forumlabee @gnarlynorris @alireads27 @alliwantisadonut @marslovesran4eva @asentraa @dustie-faerie @o6hellnah @hannahmotors10 @kori20 @zicosbitch @floraf1ln @fallingforfalll2 @killjoynotes @remussbitch @babyangelc @sadwillowtree11

[cheftsunoda]

Would you consider doing something with a quiet/ reserved reader. I love the idea of a reader who's an up and coming driver but isn't about the press or media at ALL. Like dodging cameras and running away from interviews, and maybe a boy (I don't mind who you pick) misunderstands and thinks that she's running away from them? Maybe add some drama from f1 update twt accounts escalating the situation and painting the reader in a negative light for being "rude" or "impolite".

Thx!! (Sorry for any confusion, English is not my first language but I hope you get what I mean)

miss misunderstood— op81

smau + blurbs

oscar piastri x !quiet/shy driver reader

yn has a lot of pressure on her shoulders— she is the only female driver in f1 and that leads to her consistently having to prove herself to not only her team, who took a chance on her, but the press who are constantly there hounding her. she has always been very shy and reserved— especially around people she does not know. when fans notice how she skips out on interviews and hides from big crowds, the hate pours in, especially after she is seen avoiding a conversation with the grids other most quiet individual— but he is persistent and wont give up on her.

(a/n) : such a cute idea anon! i understood you perfectly fine my love. i hope you enjoy this. i thought it would be fun to pair reader with someone who is also rather quiet and reserved.

fc : amna al qubaisi

—

f1gossipgirls

257,087 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Almost all of our favorite drivers have touched down in Barcelona for media day. Some of our first arrivals include YN LN, Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris and George Russell.

—

view 32,057 other comments.

username0 : george not dressed properly for the weather pt 899

liked by f1gossipgirls

username10 : yn always looks like she doesn’t want to be there. why is she even in f1 if she hates to do the job??

username15 : everyone is smiling, waiving, talking to fans and press and then there is yn who immediately books it to the paddock and ignores everyone

username22 : ill say it once and i will say it again— f1 is not a silent film. she either needs to speak up and play the role or step aside. good driver or not. that job comes with more responsibilities than just driving around the track.

username5 : she gives off “im better than everyone else” energy and im sick of her.

username00 : every time i try and like her, she gives us absolutely nothing. cold and awkward isn’t a personality, babe.

↳ username9 : yet you guys eat it up when oscar does it. the double standard is insane.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username11 : its always the quiet ones y’all tear apart for not being loud enough. she’s there to drive. not entertain you.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username17 : you guys are extra hard on her because she is a female. and it is sick.

username101 : she minds her business, she’s fast, and she is unproblematic. you guys are just finding reasons to hate her. jealousy is a disease.

liked by f1gossipgirls

—

They say I’m cold. Unfriendly. Standoffish. Like I’m trying too hard to be mysterious or above it all. But they don’t know me. Not really. Because if they did, they’d know I used to be warm. I used to talk too much. Laugh too loud. Hug people without thinking twice. But that was before. Before the phone call. Before the hospital room. Before the person who knew me better than anyone else—who loved me without needing me to be anything but myself—was just… gone.

Losing a parent is something people talk about like it’s a passage. A sad inevitability. But they don’t talk about what it does to you when it’s sudden. When it’s brutal. When the last words you said were something stupid because you thought you had more time. My dad was my safe place. The only person I could fall apart around. He was the reason I started racing. The reason I believed I could do anything. And when I lost him, I didn’t just lose a person—I lost myself. I haven’t spoken about it. Not to anyone.

Not to my engineers. Not to my teammates. Not to the drivers who think I’m just “shy” or “quiet” or “moody.” Because once I say it out loud, it becomes real in a way I’m not ready for. It becomes the thing people pity me for instead of the thing I’ve survived. So I stay quiet. I keep the noise out. I protect the stillness inside me. People don’t understand it, and that’s fine. They think I’m emotionless when really, I’m overflowing and just trying not to drown. I hear what they say. The fans. The media. That I don’t engage. That I don’t give enough. But I didn’t come here to be their favorite. I came here to race. I came here to honor my father. To survive something else. To find moments of peace between the chaos and the grief that still sits like stone in my chest.

They’ll never understand why I am the way I am. Because they never saw me before. Before the silence felt safer than the world ever did. And I don’t owe them an explanation for that.

—

The air in Barcelona is thick with heat and noise—press cameras clicking, fans shouting driver names like spells, a thousand voices layered on top of each other. I keep my head down but offer a small smile, lifting my hand in a quiet wave. They cheer anyway. Some scream my name. Others don’t. Some just stare, waiting for me to trip or ignore them or give them proof I’m “as cold as they say.”

I smile again, even if it doesn’t reach my eyes. It’s not fake—it’s just not loud.

Security walks with me as I cross the paddock. My eyes flicker over the cameras stationed outside team motorhomes, the reporters already calling out names, hoping for a quote. I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag. Just a few more steps.

I keep walking. Fast, but not suspiciously fast. Just enough to dodge the press circling like hawks, waiting for a moment of weakness, a headline, a clipped quote that can be turned into whatever version of me they want to sell this week.

Finally, I step inside Red Bull. The air conditioning kisses my skin. The silence—relative silence—is heaven. I make it to my driver room, push the door shut with my shoulder, and lean against it for a second. Eyes closed. Deep breath. The chaos is muffled now, like a storm just beyond the walls. Then the door opens again without a knock.

“Nice escape,” Max says, completely unfazed. He shuts the door behind him like he owns the building. “You only almost ran over two photographers. New record?”

I huff out a laugh—quiet but real. “Felt like twenty.”

He drops into the chair across from me like he’s been doing this his whole life. Which, to be fair, he basically has.

Max studies me for a second, unreadable as always. “You look like you’re about to vomit. That your media day face?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

He shrugs. “Just saying. You do realize they can’t eat you alive on camera, right? Legally.”

“I don’t know. I think one of the Sky guys has sharp enough teeth.”

He chuckles, dry and quiet. “You’ll be fine. Say as little as possible. Give one-word answers. Scowl a little. That’s what I do.”

“You give plenty of one-word answers.”

“Exactly,” he says, proud. “It’s an art.”

He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, face softening just slightly.

“They don’t matter, you know. The journalists. The fans who think they know you. The Twitter freaks. You’re fast. That’s what counts. That’s what wins. Let them think you’re a robot or a villain or a Bond girl or whatever mood they’re in this week.”

I nod. A slow exhale.

“Thanks, Max.”

He shrugs again. “Just don’t cry on camera. I already have a reputation for being emotionally unavailable. Don’t need yours adding to the Verstappen Cold Front.”

This time, I laugh out loud. He grins. Mission accomplished.

“Go be scary,” he says, pushing himself up. “And if you panic, just pretend they’re all standing in front of your car at turn one.”

“I’d drive through them.”

“Exactly.”

He leaves without another word, and for the first time all morning, I feel like I can breathe.

—

I answer with the same even tone I always do. I deflect, redirect, smile where I’m supposed to. I’ve trained myself not to flinch. But it still chips away at me, a little at a time. I finally escape outside, tucked behind one of the Red Bull displays near the fan zone—close enough to be seen, far enough to feel like I’m not drowning. I sip from a water bottle, hoping the air might settle in my lungs again. That’s when I see her.

A girl, maybe twelve, in a handmade cap with my number scribbled on it in glitter glue. She’s holding a small notebook and a marker, standing with her dad and hesitating like she doesn’t want to bother me. I almost keep walking. I’m tired. Overheated. Ready to shut down for the rest of the day. But something in her eyes stops me. She doesn’t look like the others—she looks like she’s trying to be brave. So I walk over.

Her eyes go wide when I stop in front of her. “Hi,” I offer, voice soft.

She blinks. Then holds out the notebook with slightly trembling hands. “Um—sorry, I just—could you sign this? I know you don’t really like talking to people a lot, but you’re my favorite. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want.”

My chest tightens. Not in a bad way—in the way it does when something hits a nerve you didn’t know was still exposed. I take the notebook and sign it carefully.

“You know,” she says, voice quiet, “I get nervous talking to people too. But I think you’re really brave. I like that you don’t try to be loud just to fit in. You make me feel like that’s okay.”

I blink fast. It’s not the kind of compliment I get. It’s not about speed or podiums or stats. It’s about me. The parts I’ve always kept hidden because the world made me feel like they were wrong. I smile—genuinely this time—and crouch a little so we’re eye level.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “That means more than you know.”

Her face lights up like I just handed her a trophy. We take a photo. I sign her hat. She hugs me before I even have time to react—but I don’t mind. Not even a little. As I walk away, I feel lighter. Like the weight pressing on my shoulders loosened just a little. Maybe I’ll always be the quiet one. The misunderstood one. But to that one girl? I was seen. And that’s enough.

—

The moment I cross the line, the radio explodes.

“P1, YN! That’s P1! You did it! You absolutely nailed that last stint—what a drive!”

I don’t say much. I can’t. My throat is tight and my hands are shaking around the wheel. The pit wall is screaming, my engineer shouting through the static. The grandstands blur into one giant roar. I slow the car down and guide it into parc fermé, P1 board waiting. The marshals are waving, cameras already turned in my direction like hungry mouths. I sit still for a beat. The engine is off, the world is loud, but in my cockpit it’s just… quiet. Then I hear it—Max’s car pulling into P2.

“Let’s go,” I murmur to myself and start the slow climb out.

But my limbs feel heavy. Every emotion I’ve buried all year starts clawing its way to the surface, and I’m suddenly not sure if I’ll make it over the halo without falling flat on my face. And then—there’s a hand. Max, already out of his car, standing beside mine like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He holds his hand out without a word. Just a look that says, Yeah, I know. Take it. I take it. He helps me out of the car, firm but unshowy. As soon as I hit the ground, I sway a little, overwhelmed—but I don’t fall.

He leans in, dry as ever. “You know you’re supposed to breathe when you win, right?”

I huff out something between a laugh and a sob. “I’ll try next time.”

Our helmets clink together briefly as we hug—quick, tight, familiar—and then he nudges me toward my team. They’re already there—Red Bull crew surrounding me, cheering, hugging, spraying water. I let myself fall into it for a moment. I smile, genuinely. I hug back. One of the engineers lifts me off the ground and spins me, and I let them. Because this is theirs, too. Ours. But just as the broadcasters and press start pushing through the sea of mechanics, I slip away—ducking behind the barrier, walking briskly toward the cooldown room before they can catch me.

I hear a few voices behind me—“YN, one word for Sky? Just a few seconds?”

I keep walking. The cooldown room is blissfully empty. Cold, quiet, white walls and a table with water and towels. I sit, press the bottle to my forehead, and finally breathe. No cameras. No questions. No pretending. Just silence. Just peace. Just… me. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

—

The water bottle sweats in my hands, condensation dripping slowly onto my race suit. I haven’t said much since sitting down, and Max hasn’t asked me to. He’s lounging across from me on the other bench, head tilted back, eyes closed like he owns the room. His suit is halfway peeled down and his hair’s a sweaty mess, but he looks… content. Neither of us are fans of the overexposed post-race routine. The lights. The forced questions. The soundbites that get twisted a dozen ways before the sun even sets. So we sit here, in the eye of the storm, letting the world knock on the door without answering.

Max finally cracks an eye open. “You going to do the interviews?”

I lean my head back against the cool wall and sigh. “Eventually. Maybe. If they don’t forget I exist by then.”

He grins slightly. “You just won. They’ll send a SWAT team if you don’t come out soon.”

Before I can answer, the door opens — fast but tentative — and in walks Camille, my press secretary. She’s breathless. Her clipboard’s half tucked under her arm, and she looks like she’s been fighting off wolves outside.

“YN,” she starts, trying for calm but clearly begging on the inside, “I hate to interrupt, but they’re getting antsy. Sky, F1TV, everyone’s lining up. They want quotes, a soundbite—anything.”

I nod slowly. I expected this. It doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not doing the scrum,” I say. “Not the pen. Not the mixed zone.”

Camille looks like she wants to scream into a pillow. “Okay. Fine. What will you do?”

I glance at Max, who’s watching like it’s the most entertaining episode of Drive to Survive he’s seen all year.

“One interview,” I finally say. “That’s it.”

Camille’s already flipping through her mental rolodex. “Okay. Sky? F1TV? Maybe something for social? Martin Brundle is waiting and—”

“No,” I cut her off, gently but firm. “If I do one, it’s with Lissie. No one else.”

Camille blinks. “Lissie—Lissie Mackintosh from Sky?”

I nod.

“She’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m under a microscope,” I explain. “She’s kind. And she actually listens.”

Camille softens a little. “Okay. I can work with that. But they’ll push back.”

“Let them,” I shrug. “I don’t owe them anything else today.”

She studies me for a moment, then exhales and heads out, already dialing her phone as she goes.

The door shuts again, and I fall back into the silence like it’s a blanket.

Max raises a brow. “Lissie, huh?”

“She doesn’t try to make me a headline,” I reply.

Max gives a nod of respect. “Smart. Wish we all had a Lissie.”

I glance down at my fingers, still slightly trembling from adrenaline. “I just need someone who sees me.”

“You just won a damn Grand Prix,” Max says, standing and nudging my foot with his. “They’re gonna have to see you now, whether they like it or not.”

—

yn's post race interview with lissie mackintosh- barcelona

—

third person pov

YN steps down from the small stage, fingers tugging at the collar of her suit as if she’s trying to breathe easier now that the lights are off. She’s walking fast, already focused on making it back to the safety of the garage. She doesn’t see Oscar until she turns the corner, he is halfway through his own interview with a different outlet. He’s smiling—tired, but still upbeat—and when he spots her, his expression brightens like he’s been waiting for a chance to say something. Oscar turned to YN as she passed by.

“You should really be talking to the winner, huh?”

His voice is friendly. Joking. The kind of throwaway line that’s meant to show camaraderie, not pressure. YN pauses just for a second. She offers a small, polite smile—closed-lipped and barely there. No laugh. No response. Just a nod. And then she’s gone. Quiet steps, fast retreat.

Oscar watches her disappear down the corridor, his smile faltering slightly. His interviewer says something, but he doesn’t really register it.

“…Did I say something weird?”

He turns back to the camera, eyes a little more unsure. In the back of his mind, the question settles in— Does she just not like me? But the truth is simpler. And sadder. She doesn’t dislike him. She just doesn’t have room for warmth in the places where the world watches too closely.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Race Winner, YN LN, only gave 1 two minute interview with @/skysports Lissie Mackintosh. Oscar Piastri who was P3 today, was also doing an interview when LN happened to walk by and made a joke to which YN just walked off. He then asked the interviewer if he said something wrong. Thoughts?

view 120,004 comments.

username00 : imagine winning a race and still managing to have the personality of dry toast 😭 poor oscar was just being NICE

username22 : as someone who watched the full interview with Lissie — she was genuine and soft spoken. maybe what she needs is respect, not attention.

username08 : i love Oscar but this isn’t that deep. she clearly has boundaries and isn’t fake about it. that’s kind of refreshing.

username09 : she didn’t even thank the fans today. one interview and vanishes? okay ice queen 🧊

username17 : not her making Oscar second guess himself when he was literally just being sweet? i would NEVER recover.

username20 : this is why she’s boring. no charisma, no interviews, no interaction. i said what i said. 🥱

username30 : are y’all ignoring the interaction she had with a younger fan today?? she is such a sweetie, she is just camera shy.

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, redbullracing and 1,7005,002 others.

ynfromredbull : good shit.

—

view 74,032 other comments.

lissiemackintosh : Honored to have been the one to share part of this day with you. Congratulations again, YN! ✨

liked by ynfromredbull

username0 : i feel like max is the only one that understands her.

maxverstappen1 : good shit indeed.

liked by ynfromredbull and redbullracing

oscarpiastri : Insane drive today, YN. 💪🏻

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ username0 : oscar is much better than me bc id be a hater rn

alexalbon : can someone pls nerf the redbull team. i am tired.

liked by maxverstappen1, ynfromredbull and redbullracing

username10 : can y'all shut up now- she is literally taking pictures with fans.

↳ username0 : wowww one time in her whole career.

carlossainz55 : such a beast. congratulations yn

liked by ynfromredbull

—

I don’t like nights like this. Too many people. Too many lights. Too many eyes that don’t know me but swear they do. I don’t stop for cameras, I don’t pose, I don’t even slow down when someone calls my name. I just head straight inside the theater like I’m late for something, even though I’m not. I keep my eyes low, find the row I asked Max to save for me, and drop into the seat beside him with a quiet exhale. He glances at me, unimpressed but amused.

“Nice entrance. Scared three PR people on the way in.”

I almost smile. “Was aiming for five.”

He snorts, and just like that, I feel a little more human. Max has always understood the value of silence. He never pushes, never demands more than I can give. We talk a little—about the ridiculousness of the event, the car updates, the championship—but mostly, we just sit. It’s enough. Until I feel a shift. I don’t even have to look up. I can sense someone walking toward us with too much hesitation, like they’ve already decided I’m going to run. When I do glance up, I’m met with wide brown eyes and a nervous smile. Oscar.

“Hey. Sorry—YN? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Max raises a brow. I pause, heart twitching in my chest for reasons I don’t fully understand, and then I nod. I follow Oscar into the hallway, the noise of the event fading behind me like static. The lighting is dimmer here. Softer. Still too bright. He turns to face me, shifting on his feet like he’s rehearsed this five times already.

“I, um—did I do something to upset you?”

My stomach drops.

“What?”

“After the race. I made that joke and you just… walked off. And I get it if you’re not a fan of me or something, I just—” He laughs nervously. “I keep thinking I said something wrong.”

I blink. I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, I look down, ashamed.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s not you. It’s just… me.”

He looks confused. Still gentle, though. Waiting. I don’t know why, but I want to explain—just a little.

“When I was younger, I lost someone. My dad. He was… my person. The one who made the noise of the world feel a little less loud. And after it happened, I kind of… shut off. I don’t like being watched. I don’t like being asked to smile when I don’t feel like it. I just… exist better in the quiet.”

Oscar doesn’t speak for a long moment. But his expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says eventually. “But thank you for trusting me.”

I nod, throat tight. Then, a flicker of guilt. “And I’m sorry for walking off like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

He smiles, shy and genuine.

“So… you don’t hate me?”

That makes me laugh. Just once, but it’s real.

“No,” I say softly. “I don’t.”

There’s a pause, and for the first time since I got here, I feel something shift in my chest. A crack of light.

He nudges me lightly with his shoulder. “Cool. Friends, then?”

I think about it. About how hard it is to let people in. About how much it scares me.

Then I nod. “Yeah. Friends.”

—

3 month time skip

ynfromredbull

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, lando & 2,409,001 others.

ynfromredbull : as my counterpart @/maxverstappen1 would say— these last few months have been simply lovely. 🏆💪🏻

—

view 127,002 other comments.

username0 : this caption is the most personality i’ve seen from her all season.

username14 : i can’t believe she is leading the wdc rn

maxverstappen1 : id sue for copyright infringement if i wasn’t so proud

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : very artistic post yn

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ ynfromredbull : thank you mr. piastri

liked by oscarpiastri

↳ lando : OMG SHE SPEAKS

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ lando : yn i didn’t mean that in a bad way pls don’t drive me off the track

liked by ynfromredbull

georgerussell63 : it is against fia regulations to have a teddy bear in the car. RACE BAN (she is still destroying all of us— it would not help save the season)

liked by ynfromredbull

—

f1gossipgirls

428,023 likes.

f1gossipgirls : For the first time in her F1 career, YN LN has not walked into the paddock alone. She walked in with none other than Oscar Piastri himself. Not only did she walk in with him but the two stopped for the press multiple times and stopped to talk with fans. Many people say that this is the most they’ve seen her smile in her whole career. Thoughts?

—

view 15,539 other comments.

username00 : from Oscar “did I do something wrong?” to Oscar walking her in and making her smile… the arc is so insane

username15 : f1gossipgirls is finally being NICE about her. this is how powerful love is

username17 : i haven’t seen her this relaxed since she debuted. i’d cry if i wasn’t already crying.

username22 : this is NOT a drill. she SMILED. she TALKED. she STOOD STILL for the PRESS. what is happening

username0 : So now she wants the attention? Pick a side. Either be private or don’t.

username14 : she’s literally only tolerable when she’s standing next to a man. that’s so sad lol

username20 : i’m sorry but this whole “she’s just shy” thing got old last season. f1 drivers are public figures. she knew what she signed up for.

—

It happens slowly. Like sunlight through tinted glass — warm but filtered, creeping in without permission. Oscar’s been around a lot lately. Not just in the paddock, where we’re both supposed to be, but everywhere in between. Track walks, post-race debriefs, long flights, short layovers, dinners in quiet towns we don’t name on social media. He’s become part of the background noise of my life, and for once, that doesn’t scare me.

I notice it when we’re sitting side by side in the sim room, not speaking, just existing. The silence between us feels easy now. Familiar. Like I don’t have to earn my space — I just have it. I notice it when he hands me a coffee before I’ve even asked, the way he always remembers I take it black with a splash of oat milk, no sugar. Or when he throws a hoodie at me because I always forget I get cold before FP3.

I notice it most on the plane ride. He’s asleep beside me, his head tilted toward me, headphones slipping. I’m staring at the clouds and thinking about how close I am to the title. Closer than I’ve ever been. I should be terrified. But I’m not. Because he’s here. And for some reason, that grounds me.

He mumbles something in his sleep and leans slightly toward my shoulder. I freeze. Not because I’m uncomfortable — but because I’m suddenly too comfortable. My heart stutters. It’s a dangerous thing, comfort. I’ve avoided it for years, convinced it would disappear the moment I reached for it. But Oscar—he never asked me to reach. He just stayed.

Now I’m sitting in row 8F of some transatlantic flight with a soft-voiced Aussie curled up next to me and a World Championship lead in my lap — and all I can think is... God, I might actually be in love with him. And that’s scarier than any press conference I’ve ever dodged.

—

I could already feel the heat of the Monaco sun pressing down as we stepped out of the car. The walk to the paddock always felt long, even when it wasn’t. My palms were tucked into my jacket pockets, nerves dancing beneath my skin like they always did. But this time, I wasn’t alone.

Oscar walked beside me, chatting softly about absolutely nothing — the weather, the coffee at the hotel, the chaos of the Monte Carlo grid. I appreciated it. His voice was grounding. I didn’t have to say anything, and he didn’t expect me to.

I kept my eyes low, used to the flashes of phones and the buzz of people trying to get my attention. Normally, I’d keep walking. Fast. Direct. No room for error. But then I heard it.

“YN!”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive. Just… hopeful. I slowed down without thinking. Oscar noticed instantly and stilled beside me.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… give me a sec.”

I turned toward the barricade. A young fan was holding a poster of my car from Australia. I’d won that race. My name was scrawled across the sidepod in sharp lettering — a moment frozen in time I’d barely let myself process. I took the marker from their hand, signed it quickly but neatly.

“Thank you for today,” the fan said, eyes wide. “You’re… amazing. You’ve always been amazing.”

The words hit me somewhere in the chest I didn’t know was sore.

“…Thanks,” I said, almost too quietly. Then louder: “Thanks for saying that.”

They smiled like I’d handed them gold. I took one photo — just one. And then I stepped back beside Oscar, who gave me a subtle smile. Not too proud. Not too over-the-top. Just there. Solid. Steady. We weren’t even halfway through the paddock before a Sky Sports reporter called out.

“YN! Oscar! Over here?”

I froze.

Oscar looked at me. “Wanna skip it?”

I shook my head. “Just one.”

We walked over together. I didn’t say much — I never do — but I stood there. Present. Listening. And when they asked how I was feeling going into the weekend, the words came before I could edit them.

“Focused,” I said. Then, after a breath: “And a little less alone today.”

Oscar glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. There was a flicker of something soft there, something understanding. It felt… safe. When we finally reached the Red Bull garage, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in twenty minutes. I peeled off my jacket, tugged at the brim of my cap, and tried to disappear through the back. But Max was already leaning on the pit wall, headset half-on, watching me with that unreadable Verstappen face.

“You smiled,” he said, completely monotone. “Terrifying.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

He smirked just slightly. “I’m just saying… if you become media friendly, I’m going to have to be the difficult one now.”

“You already are,” I deadpanned.

Max laughed under his breath and tossed me a bottle of water. “You did good, LN.”

And for once, I let myself believe it.

—

The world was quiet around us. The kind of hush that only existed in moments like this — between heartbeats, between stares. Monaco’s lights flickered just beyond the windows, gold threads pulling through navy silk. I could hear the sea in the distance. Oscar lay beside me, legs stretched across my duvet like he belonged here. He wasn’t touching me, not yet, but he was close enough that I could feel every inch of space between us — and it made my chest ache.

“You’re quieter than usual,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

I turned my head toward him. “That’s saying something.”

He smiled, tired and tender. “Fair. Still true.”

I didn’t answer. Because truthfully, I was scared. This was all new. The closeness. The comfort. The way he looked at me like I wasn’t hard to figure out. Then he said it — no fanfare, no buildup, just a simple truth.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

It should’ve terrified me. But it didn’t. Not really. It cracked something open.

I stared at him, eyes burning, heart folding in on itself. “I think I already have,” I breathed, voice barely there.

The silence that followed was thick — not heavy, not awkward. Just real. He reached over, his fingers grazing mine so gently it made my skin buzz. It wasn’t a grab. It was an invitation. And for once in my life, I accepted. I laced my fingers through his and sat up, pulling open the drawer next to my bed. There was only one thing inside — an envelope. Worn at the edges, the flap taped down three times because I’d opened and closed it more than I should have. I handed it to him. His brows furrowed as he opened it slowly. The photo slipped into his hand.

Me, at six. All tiny teeth and wild hair, grinning up like the sun had never set. Standing next to a man in a racing suit. His hand was on my shoulder. The same eyes. The same smirk. My father. Oscar looked between the photo and me, and I saw the shift happen in real time — confusion to understanding to quiet reverence.

“That’s… is that who I think it is?” His voice cracked just slightly.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “My dad.”

I didn’t say his name. I didn’t need to.

“He died when I was eight. It was… it was violent. Sudden. One second he was there, and then he wasn’t. He was my safest place. My everything. After that, I… broke. I stopped talking for months. And when I started again, it was never the same.”

He didn’t move. Just stared at me like I was something delicate, like if he breathed too loudly I might fold in on myself.

“I never told anyone,” I continued, voice barely holding. “I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to be treated like some ghost of his shadow. I wanted to be me. Just me.”

Oscar’s fingers tightened around mine — not too much, just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone anymore.

“You are,” he whispered. “You’re everything.”

I looked at him then, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like hiding.

“I think he’d like you,” I said, smiling through the burn in my throat.

Oscar leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, and whispered back, “I like you more than I should.”

And in the soft glow of the Monaco skyline, wrapped in the quiet I used to fear, I finally let myself feel it all. Love. Safety. Peace. Him.

—

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, ynfromredbull & 8,029,003 others.

f1 : Your 2025 World Champion, YN LN! Incredible drive this season, YN. This is well deserved.

tagged : ynfromredbull

—

view 239,492 other comments.

username00 : MY QUEEN! CONGRATULATIONS YN.

username15 : gonna be insufferable about this for the next 40 years ok????

susie_wolff : YN has made history. I am forever proud of her.

liked by ynfromredbull and f1

username30 : people doubted her, the press dragged her, and she STILL smoked them all. cold-blooded. we love a quiet assassin 💅

lissiemackintosh : I’ve seen your journey up close. You are everything this sport needs. Congratulations, champion. 💫

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : No one more worthy. What a season, YN. 🏆🤍

liked by ynfromredbull

lando : MY GOATTTTTT LFGGGG

liked by ynfromredbull

lewishamilton : It’s been inspiring watching you come into your own. World Champion sounds good on you. 🔥

liked by ynfromredbull

maxverstappen1 : Couldn’t be more proud. YN deserved this more than anyone.

liked by ynfromredbull

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, lando and 12,037,024 others.

ynfromredbull : this is what it is all about. thank you all. it is an honor to be your 2025 world champ. i hope you grow to love me as much as i love all of you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

We were far from everything — the noise, the cameras, the endless headlines. Just a small coastal town somewhere in Portugal, sun-drunk and slow, the kind of place where people didn’t care about championship points or last names. Oscar and I had spent the day walking through sleepy markets, eating too much gelato, and laughing at nothing. Now, the two of us lay tangled together on the bed in the little apartment we rented, the linen sheets kicked down to our ankles and the windows cracked open to let in the salt-kissed night air. His hand rested on my stomach, thumb drawing slow circles over the hem of my shirt. The world outside our window was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Not tonight.

“I want to do it,” I said into the stillness.

He turned his head, his voice a low murmur against my temple. “Do what?”

I hesitated, even though I already knew he’d understand. He always did.

“The interview. I want to finally say it. Talk about… him. All of it.”

Oscar sat up slightly, enough to look at me properly. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, throat tight. “It’s time. I’ve hidden behind the silence for so long. And I don’t want to anymore.”

He searched my eyes, then gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t owe anyone your pain, you know. You don’t have to justify who you are.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to tell the story. My story. People have made it for me for so long — all the gossip, the assumptions. I’ve let them believe I’m cold or arrogant or just awkward. But the truth is…” I swallowed. “The truth is, I’m just someone who lost the one person that made the world feel safe.”

Oscar’s hand found mine under the sheets, his fingers warm and steady.

“I think he’d be proud of you,” he said softly. “For everything. For surviving. For being brave enough to do this now.”

I blinked hard, staring up at the ceiling to stop the tears from spilling.

“I miss him so much, still. Every day. Sometimes I think that little girl in the paddock died with him — the one who used to talk to everyone, who smiled without thinking about it.”

He pulled me into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That girl’s still in there. I see her every time you light up after a race. Every time you laugh when you think no one’s listening. You’re still her. Just… grown, and stronger.”

I breathed him in — the cologne I’d come to associate with safety and something close to peace.

“Will you be there? When I do it?” I asked quietly. “When I finally say his name?”

“Every step,” he said without hesitation. “Always.”

And in that moment, with his arms around me and the stars blinking somewhere above the rooftops, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

Not in the silence. Not in the truth. Not ever again.

—

‘hey lissie— its yn. i want to do an exclusive interview with you. if you’re willing.’

’omg hey champ— obviously id be willing to. where do you need me?’

’my house. next week? i can send a plane your way.’

’ill be there. i am honored, yn. truly.’. 

—

world champion, yn, sharing her truths from her home in monaco with lissie mackintosh - 1/2/2026

—

ynsenna

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri & 17,023,004 others.

ynsenna : i’ve spent most of my life trying to be quiet enough not to be noticed. not because i didn’t have anything to say—but because grief took the words from me before i ever had the chance to speak.

this season changed my life. not just because of the results, but because i finally stopped running from the part of me that hurt the most. my father was everything to me. and losing him the way i did shattered something i didn’t know how to rebuild—until recently. the truth is- i’m proud to be his daughter. but i’m also proud of the woman i’ve become, entirely on my own.

to those who’ve seen me when i couldn’t see myself—thank you. to the ones who stayed kind even when i stayed quiet—you mean more than you know.

and to the person who reminded me i’m allowed to be loved, messy and whole—i love you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirl : YN just did an interview from her home with Lissie Mackintosh going into detail about her childhood and revealed that Ayrton Senna is in fact her father. She spoke about how her father’s tragic death left her emotionally shut her down for most of her life— and she chose silence as form of self protection. She led Lissie through a room in her house which held a large collection of her father’s helmets and trophy’s and she shared a few photos of them on her instagram today— which her new instagram handle is @/ynsenna. She also revealed in this interview that she is indeed dating Oscar Piastri. Oscar was behind the camera silently supporting her during the interview. Thoughts?

—

view 802,482 comments.

username0 : i’m crying real tears. she carried the weight of that legacy in complete silence. absolute warrior.

username14 : Oscar being behind the camera and just silently supporting her???? marriage. immediately.

username20 : now it all makes sense. the silence, the eyes that always looked a little sad. she’s been carrying so much. proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

username15 : she didn’t win the championship for the world. she won it for her dad and for the little girl who lost her dad. i’m not okay.

username17 : everything about this interview was raw and honest. we don’t deserve her but god do we respect her.

username30 : the fact she said nothing for years and let people think the worst of her, just to protect herself?? she’s not cold. she’s human. and she deserves peace.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by ynsenna, maxverstappen1, lando & 10,273,005 others.

oscarpiastri : proud to know you. proud to love you. you are the strongest human i know. you made him proud, sweetheart.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

The interview with Lissie had gone live less than twelve hours ago. I’d barely blinked since then. I was curled up on my couch, hoodie three sizes too big, hair in a bun, face completely bare. Oscar sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his back leaning against the couch between my legs. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair while he scrolled through TikTok with the volume low. My phone buzzed every five seconds on the table, but I ignored it. Oscar didn’t ask questions. He just stayed. And he was quiet in that way that felt like peace.

The soft hum of city traffic below filled the silence until—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone was knocking on my door like it owed them money. Oscar and I both jolted.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, twisting to look at me.

“No—wait. Shhh. Listen.”

BANG BANG BANG.

Then—“YN! OPEN UP! YOU OWE US A DAMN EXPLANATION!”

That voice. That unhinged tone.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Is that—Max?”

Oscar looked up at me. “Should I get the bat?”

I was still laughing as I padded to the door, the sound of voices growing louder.

“Carlos, stop pressing the buzzer, it’s annoying.”

“She’s probably ignoring us—”

“She probably moved to Brazil, bro.”

“Shut up, George.”

“YN, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR I’M GETTING THE SPARE FROM CHRISTIAN!”

I opened the door. And immediately got hit with a wave of chaos. Max was at the front like the ringleader. Behind him stood Charles, Lando, Carlos, Pierre, Yuki, Lewis, George, and Alex, all staring at me like I’d just casually announced I was royalty.

“Hi,” I said blandly.

“‘Hi’?! That’s all we get?” George sputtered.

Max shouldered his way in first, eyes wide. “You—YOU—” He pointed at me. “Are Senna’s daughter and you didn’t tell anyone?!”

“I told Oscar,” I mumbled, leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, okay, Oscar gets a free pass,” Lando said dramatically, waving a hand as he walked in. “Since he is the boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you’re his,” Pierre said, mouth open as he stared around the apartment.

Yuki beelined for my kitchen. “Do you have snacks?”

Carlos gave me a look that was half stern, half soft. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Lewis stepped forward, eyes kind. “You didn’t have to. But… damn. That was powerful, YN.”

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, nodding slowly. “I cried, but that might’ve been the wine.”

The room was buzzing. Full of movement, questions, half-jokes, too much cologne, and disbelief so thick I could feel it crackling in the air like electricity. And yet, through it all, I just… Chuckled. I mean — this was my life now? Eight world-class athletes pacing my apartment like it was a race strategy debrief while Oscar, my boyfriend, my soulmate, looked like he wanted to protect me from the emotional onslaught with nothing but a throw pillow.

Max stared at me. “What’s funny?”

I smiled — wide and honest. “You guys are all losing your minds in my living room. Like I’m a unicorn or something.”

George raised a finger. “To be fair, you are. We just didn’t know it.”

Lando turned toward Oscar. “You knew. You absolute sneaky bastard.”

Oscar held up his hands, all innocence. “She told me. I didn’t say anything. Not even in the group chat.”

“I’m so proud of you, and also I hate you,” Pierre muttered, clapping Oscar’s shoulder.

And then — without warning — Max said, “Alright, that’s it. Everyone shut up.”

I blinked. “What—”

He lunged. Then Lando. Then Charles. Then George. Before I could even think to protest, I was being dragged into a ridiculous, suffocating, all-limbs, too-many-colognes, full team group hug. My face was squished between Max’s shoulder and Pierre’s head. Oscar laughed and wrapped his arms around all of us from the outside.

Someone yelled, “We’re proud of you!”

Someone else yelled, “She’s a Senna but she’s our YN!”

And I think it was Alex who shouted, “WE LOVE YOU, WORLD CHAMP!”

I couldn’t breathe. Not from the pressure of the hug — from the feeling of it all. Acceptance. Support. Love. After years of walls, of silence, of solitude, it all rushed in like the wave I didn’t know I’d been bracing for. And I let myself sink into it. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to carry the legacy alone anymore.

—

[whispers-whump]

Some writing advice

that I like to use when I write. None of this is meant to be taken as hard and fast rules, they’re just things I like to do/keep in mind when I’m writing and I thought maybe other people would enjoy! <3

Never say what you mean

This is an offshoot of the very common “show don’t tell” advice, which I think can be confusing in application and unhelpful for scenes where telling is actually the right move. Instead, I keep the advice to never say exactly what I mean in stories.

By using a combination of showing and telling to hint at what you really mean, you force your reader to think and figure it out on their own, which makes for a more satisfying reading experience.

You might show a character getting angry and defensive in response to genuine care and concern. You could tell the audience that the character doesn’t see/talk to their parents often. But never outright give the real meaning that the character feels unlovable because of their strained relationship with their parents and as a result they don’t know how to react to being cared for.

Your readers are smart, you don’t need to spoon feed them.

Be sparse with the important things

You know how in a lot of movies there’s that tense scene where a character is hiding from something/someone and you can only just see this person/thing chasing them through a crack in the door? You get a very small glimpse of whatever’s after the character, sometimes only shadows being visible.

Do that in your writing. Obscure the important things in scenes by overdescribing the unimportant and underdescribing the important.

You might describe the smell of a space, the type of wood the floor is made of, the sound of work boots moving slowly across the room, a flashlight in the character’s hand. And there’s a dead body, laying in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room, red soaking into the rug. Then move on, what kind of rug is it? What is the color, patterns, and type of fabric of the rug?

Don’t linger on the details of the body, give your reader’s imagination some room to work while they digest the mundane you give them.

Dialogue is there to tell your story too

There’s a lot of advice out there about how to make dialogue more realistic, which is absolutely great: read aloud to yourself, put breaks where you feel yourself take a breath, reword if you’re stuttering over your written dialogue. But sometimes, in trying to make dialogue sound more realistic, a little bit of its function is lost.

Dialogue is more than just what your characters say, dialogue should serve a purpose. It’s a part of storytelling, and it can even be a bridging part of your narration.

If you have a scene with a lot of internal conflict that is very narration-heavy, breaking it up with some spoken dialogue can be a way to give some variety to those paragraphs without moving onto a new idea yet; people talk to themselves out loud all of the time.

Dialogue is also about what your characters don’t say. This can mean the character literally doesn’t say anything, they give half-truths, give an expected answer rather than the truth (“I’m fine”), omit important information, or outright lie.

Play with syntax and sentence structure

You’ve heard this advice before probably. Short, choppy sentences and a little onomatopoeia work great for fast-paced action scenes, and longer sentences with more description help slow your pacing back down.

That’s solid advice, but what else can you play with? Syntax and sentence structure are more than just the length of a sentence.

Think about things like: repetition of words or ideas, sentence fragments, stream of consciousness writing, breaking syntax conventions, and the like. Done well, breaking some of those rules we were taught about language can be a more compelling way to deliver an emotion, theme, or idea that words just can’t convey.

Would love to hear any other tips and tricks other people like to use, so feel free to share!!!

[traveler-at-heart]

Sharing is caring

Summary: Natasha doesn't like to share.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Thank you to @jujuu23 for reading this before I posted :)

Natasha wanted to have a good day.

But then recruits were stupid, Steve was being annoying about paperwork. And now, this.

Her favorite mug. Gone.

“Did you do this?” is the first thing she says to Sam as he enters the kitchen.

“No, I like the idea of keeping all my fingers”

And precisely then, you walk in.

Newest addition to the team, top of your SHIELD class, expert in weapons, languages and the most delicious desserts. Steve had to enforce a rigurous meal plan when even Bucky gained a good five pounds.

Natasha likes your easy smile, beautiful eyes, and those full lips that can be both alluring and mysterious.

That perfect mouth that is now sipping from none other than Natasha’s mug.

Sam crosses his arms, expecting the Russian to say something. But she stays glued to her spot.

As you enter the room, you feel two sets of eyes on you. The attention makes you falter, but you push through. There’s no place for shyness when you’re an Avenger.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Real nice” Sam says, and you nod, considering if it’s a good idea to address Natasha directly. You still haven’t quiet figured her out. 

“Do I have something on my face? You’re staring”

“No” Natasha rushes to say, before Sam can tell you that you’re holding her mug, the one that made her rip Barnes’ arm off when she saw him using it.  

“You sure? Dirt? Chocolate?”

“Your face is perfect” she hurries to say, and Sam has to cough to hide his laughter 

“Smooth, Romanoff”

“Ok, then. I made coffee and added a little nutmeg. Wanna try it?”

You offer her your mug and she takes it, smiling. 

“This is really good!”

“Finish it. I have to train. I don’t mind sharing” you wink at her, and Natasha has to keep from smiling. She doesn’t like new people knowing she can go soft.

“Can I have some?” Sam steps in.

“No” Natasha cuts him off and you laugh, waving goodbye. 

—

Heroes can save the day, but forget to bring out an extra chair when doing mission debriefings. 

This is the first time the entire team has been on a mission together since you joined, and now the conference room is crowded. There’s no place to sit, except for a small sofa in the back of the room.

That’s where Natasha usually sits, because it gives her a view of everyone. She can read their expressions, guess what they think, take that information to asses what needs to be refined in their team dynamic. 

Right now, though, she’s one of the last people in. The minute she looks at her spot, she sees you, leaning against the sofa, your hand discreetly holding your side.

“Rookie, you’re in Red’s spot” Tony says, walkign right after Natasha. 

She shoots him a murderous glare, but all you do is laugh, trying to stand up without anyone noticing you’re injured.

But Natasha notices.

“We can both sit here” she rushes to say, and you nod, knowing your voice would be strained if you thanked her out loud.

Mission debriefing goes by in a blur, your breathing heavy. 

Natasha is ready to tell Steve to can it, but Tony steps in, and everyone leaves the room.

Everyone except you. 

Natasha can’t leave either, worried about your condition.

“It’s nothing major” you say, knowing why she’s still sitting next to you.

“What is?” she tries to play dumb, but that makes you laugh. You wince after a second, though. “You should go to the Medbay”

“Cracked ribs, that’s all. The doctors won’t be able to fix that either way” you smile at her, but make no effort to move. Natasha stays put too, and you know she’s patient enough to wait it out. “Fine. I’m going”

You expect Natasha to leave for her room once you promise to get checked out. But instead, she follows you.

“Just in case you need something”

The doctors confirm what you already know. Rest, painkillers, no training for a couple of days. What you had missed were a couple of cuts, since you didn’t even change out of your suit until now. A nurse cleans them up and patches you up, but you’re left in nothing but a tank top and your tactical pants. 

Why is the Medbay so damn cold?

When you open the door, Natasha is already waiting, a hoodie in her hands.

“I’ve told them to fix the damn AC a thousand times” is all she says, and you smile, grateful. You struggle when you have to slide the hoodie down your body, and Natasha’s hands are quick to pull the fabric down gently.

“Thank you, Nat”

“Come on, you need your rest” 

Walking back to the living quarters, you can’t help but wonder if she’s being nice out of pity or something else. Whatever it is, you just hope she doesn’t see you as the rookie that screws up during their first group mission.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything” 

You nod, waiting until she walks into her own room to get inside.

The first thing you do in the privacy of your room is enjoy the fact her hoodie is soft, and smells just like Natasha.

You might not give it back to her.

—

Tony’s idea of a party is shut down the next morning. You can guess that Steve is aware of your injuries, as the doctors are required to submit a report.

Still, Stark insists on some team bonding activity and by a miracle, Natasha gets him to agree to movie night.

That’s how you end up in the entertainment room. There’s popcorn, soda, pizza and chocolate. 

Once again, and unbenknowst to you, you end up sitting on the couch Natasha takes up for herself.

“Hey” she walks up to you, vaguely aware that the rest of the team is waiting to see if Natasha asks you to move. “Mind if we share?”

“Not at all!” you say, moving to the side so she can sit. It’s hard to pretend you’re not excited about Natasha’s request. 

Considering she’s always keeping her distance, sharing the couch during movie night seems like a big deal.

“Everyone settled?” Tony asks, his gaze lingering on you two. Natasha glares, so he turns around and starts the movie.

After a couple of minutes, you reach forward to open the pack of M&M’s that no one seems to want. You can’t help the laugh when Natasha reaches for them at the same time.

“We can share these too” you say, handing them to her.

Natasha is trying to pay attention to the movie, but you’re shifting in the couch, sometimes your knee brushing against hers. 

“You’re not eating the green ones” she notices, leaning close to you to not interrupt the movie.

“Oh, shit” you laugh, somehow sensing that Natasha wants to know why. “My brother and I would agree to leave those for last, and then split them. Stupid”

“Wouldn’t want to mess with tradition” she says, separating them. You watch her, holding back a smile.

—

“Y/N’s all packed up and ready to go, right?” Steve says, reading over a file. 

“Yeah, she walked by like five minutes ago. Medics gave clearance” Sam says. “It’s just a recon mission, either way”

They’re going back to reviewing the team’s schedule when Natasha sprints past them.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Sam says, hoping there’s no threat to deal with. Steve is about to walk out as well, when he hears Natasha’s words.

“I’m going with Y/N! How could you be so irresponsible to send her away when she just recovered?”

Captain Rogers decides to hide behind the door, Natasha’s anger making him feel small.

“Alright, have a good one” Sam gives her a thumb up, and the redhead just rolls her eyes. He sighs, going back inside.

Steve stays silent for a second.

“The safe house only has one bed” he says, considering if it’s worth telling Natasha that. "Should we tell her?"

“No, thank you”

—

Recon missions suck. 

There, you said it. Unfortunately, those are the most frequent ones for you, as the newest member of the team and being practically unknown to the general population.

You’re walking to your car, hoping the mission can be done quickly. It’s a day and a half and being alone makes it specially boring. As soon as you open the driver’s door, you find Natasha sitting, smiling up at you.

“Jeez! What are you doing here?”

“Backup. Cap asked me to come last minute” 

“Oh” you get quiet, nodding.

Natasha tries to stay neutral when she notices how your face falls. Did she read into the situation? A part of her thought you liked being around her.

Either way, she can’t back out now. Once you’re settled in the car, Natasha drives out of the Compound, to the small office you’re meant to infiltrate.

“Is… did…?” you mumble a couple of times. Natasha keeps a poker face, waiting for you to speak again. With a sigh, you finally let it out. “Did Steve send you to babysit me? He thinks I screwed up because I got injured, doesn’t he?”

“No, it’s nothing like that” Natasha says, mentally kicking herself for rushing to join you. She didn’t even consider your feelings, too eager to spend time together. “I just didn’t like the idea of you going alone”

“Oh” you say again, this time blushing. Natasha can sense something shifts from your tone alone, so she turns to look at you. Your eyes meet hers and you smile. “Yeah, I was actually thinking how boring it was going to be. So, I’m glad you tagged along” 

“I’m glad too” she says, trying not to smile.

“Let’s see if you keep saying that after I put on my roadtrip playlist”

“Bring it”

Natasha tries to enjoy the songs, though she’ll never tell you that pop music isn’t really her thing. What she does enjoy are the gummies you offer. In your words, road snacks are key to the trip.

As you park close to the safe house, you leave your bag in the living room and then go down to around the corner, checking you have everything you need in your jacket pockets. 

“Wanna go over the plan?” Natasha says, trying to keep calm. It’s just a recon mission. You’ll be fine.

“Bug the conference room for the meeting happening tomorrow. Hack into Russo’s computer and download everything. In and out, easy peasy” 

Natasha nods, and you wink at her.

“If I finish in under 10 minutes you buy me dinner”

“Deal” Natasha says, and she wishes she could tell you she’ll buy you dinner no matter what happens.

You finally go, walking up to the building, strolling casually. As you’re about to reach the doors, a man leaves the office and you snatch his ID to get past the gates.

That’s the easy part. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of people in the hallways still, and the office you’re supposed to infiltrate is at the end of the long corridor.

The conference room should be close to the elevator, so you decide to take a look around. As you approach, you hear voices inside.

It will be difficult to bug a room with other people in it.

Looking around, aware that you’ll be suspicious if you just stand there, you think of a way out.

And then you spot the distraction you need.

Well, whatever it takes to get the mission done.

—

Natasha finds a cafeteria that is across the office, and she gets to sit by the window, looking out as you skilfully snatch the ID from someone who’s leaving.

Standard time for a mission like that should be under fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, the man whose ID you stole is coming back exactly five minutes later. 

Natasha’s not sure if he forgot something, or if he noticed he was missing his ID and decided to return for it. The fact of the matter is that if someone notices you used it to get inside, you’ll be in trouble.

She suddenly wishes you had a comm with you so she could help out. Hell, if the man keeps talking to security, Natasha will find a way to make a scene and distract them long enough to get you out.

Just as she’s about to stand up, one of the cleaning staff walks out and hands over the ID. Did you notice what happened and dropped it? Were you still inside? You didn’t need the ID to exit the building, but still.

The man takes his ID, and walks back inside. 

It’s been nine minutes. Natasha will give you five more before she intervenes.

She’s so focused on looking out the window that she misses the moment you step inside the restaurant, and sit in front of her.

“What…? “ the redhead does a doble take, and you take great pride in that.

“Janitor’s closet, grabbed one of their uniforms. Nobody questions cleaning staff”

You pass her the USB, smiling at her shocked expression.

“And you gave him back his ID, as if you weren’t the one who took it”

“All under ten minutes. You know what that means?”

“Of course. Let’s check the menu” Natasha says, smiling at you.

After ordering a couple of cheeseburgers, you read over the desserts.

“We could share a brownie” you say, holding back a smile. You’ve noticed Natasha has a sweet tooth, and is less than inclined to share her food, especially if it’s a dessert.

“Sure” she says after a beat, and you clear your throat, speaking after the waitress leaves.

“You know, I can handle rejection”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the youngest of three. I’m used to people telling me to leave their things alone” you say, smiling at her. “If I’m bothering you…”

“I don’t mind sharing” she cuts you off, her shoulders tense. It’s a bit uncomfortable for her to be vulnerable like this. “Not when I’m sharing with you” 

“Oh” you blush, biting your lip. The way her words affect you make Natasha regain some of her confidence. 

“How come you didn’t want to do a recon?”

“I don’t know. I like group missions. Or at least going with someone else. Like I said, I have siblings and I guess being around the team makes me feel like at home”

“Well, I like them because I can take a break from everyone. But that’s just because I’ve been dealing with those boys for years now” she laughs.

“Yeah, I get it. It can feel like a frat house sometimes. Let’s have girls night, no boys allowed” you joke, but perk up a second later. “Wait! That actually sounds fun. Oh my Gosh, we could go to the movies, or a museum, or dinner…”

“Sounds like a date to me” Natasha interrupts your rambling, pleased when you play with your hands.

“Yeah. That could be a date” 

Once the food arrives, you eat and chat. Natasha does agree to sharing dessert, which makes your heart melt a little at the gesture.

The last part of the mission is supposed to happen tomorrow, when a couple of shady businessmen meet at the building you infiltrated. All you have to do is sit and take pictures of whoever walks in, so intelligence can run background checks.

After dinner, you head back to the small apartment. For the first time since you arrived, you walk past the entrance to check the space.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks when you come back, fiddling with your hands.

“There’s only one bed”

“Oh”

“You can totally take it, the couch looks fine…”

“No, you’re still recovering, I’ll sleep on the couch”

Natasha and you speak over the other for a few minutes until your voices die down and you stare at each other.

“We could share?” you suggest.

“Ok” Natasha nods, trying to pretend it’s not a big deal.

But when you change into an oversized t-shirt (no shorts because you truly thought you’d be alone here), and lie down in the small bed, your heart is practically beating out of your chest. 

“You ok?” Natasha says, trying not to move.

You give up with a sigh, turning on your side and moving closer, until you’re inches apart.

“Just need to sleep on my side. And I usually hug a pillow. Don’t ask me why, I just do”

“Well… here” Natasha moves even closer, taking your arm. She places it around her waist, and pulls you closer. Your breath hitches for a second, but Natasha smiles reassuringly. “Is this better?”

“Yes”

As a matter of fact, it’s the best sleep either one of you has gotten in years.

—

You’re not in the mood for parties.

But that’s never stopped Tony before.

After waking up cuddling Natasha, (and barely completing the mission because you didn’t want to leave bed) you were eager to ask her out, or have her ask you out. Whichever was fine by you.

But as soon as you parked the car, Cap was waiting with a frown and a big file.

“We leave in an hour” he said, only to Natasha.

Apparently, this was going to be a very demanding mission, and Cap didn’t want you pushing yourself.

So, Natasha, Sam and Steve had been gone for a few days now.

Tony was mildly disappointed, but this was Pepper’s birthday party and he wasn’t about to call it off for a few working Avengers.

Still, you try to cheer up and put on a good face, mainly for Pepper. You’re not sure she really wanted this big of a party, but she seems happy enough.

Most of the people attending are from Stark Industries, so you try to blend in and speak to some of them.

“Hey, do you work in legal?” a young blonde asks when you go get another drink.

“Oh, no, definitely not”

“Thought I knew you. I’m in HR”

“Fun” you say, but the tone you use makes her laugh. Before you can do anything, she changes seats and moves closer to you.

“I’m Sasha”

Reluctantly, you give your name. Even after the bartender hands over another glass of Chardonnay, Sasha keeps talking to you, though she doesn’t really care if you work at Stark Industries or not. After your third glass of wine, you begin to relax, and say a couple of jokes that make her laugh a little too loud.

She’s definitely flirting.

“Wanna take this conversation somewhere else?” she asks and you look around.

“I think I need some air…”

“We could…”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Natasha is by your side in an instant. Little drops of water wet your shoulder as she approaches you, having rushed from the shower to see you.

“Hey, detka. Having fun without me?”

“You’re home!” you shout, excited at seeing her again.

“I am. Come on, let’s go to the balcony” she says, taking your hand. You’re halfway there when you remember Sasha, and try to turn back to say goodbye.

“I don’t want to be rude”

“And I said I like to share with you, not share you” 

“Oh” you blush at that, and stay silent as Natasha drags you out of the party. 

“Was that too much?” she asks when you finally get to the balcony.

“No. I just drank too fast and I’m happy to see you” you say, your hands going around her shoulders. 

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, Natasha holds your waist and pulls you closer to her.

“I’m happy to see you too” she leans her forehead against yours. “And about that date…”

“Yeah, I’m up for it” you confirm with a nod. Your faces are inches apart, and Natasha  can tell you’re sneaking small glances at her lips.

“As for other stuff…” 

“Mhm” you hum, aware that she’s leaning forward. You let her lips meet yours, and the kiss is short but tender. “Will this date have more of these?”

“Hell, yeah” she nods, making you laugh.

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Can’t wait” she nods, kissing you again.

Unfortunately, you’re interrupted by Sam, who is sporting a shit eating grin.

“Anything you two wanna share with the team?”

“No” you answer at the same time.

Some things, are meant to stay between you two. 

[oldermenfucker]

Three’s a Crowd | J. Abbot & M. Robinavitch

Summary: Robby meets Jack’s new young girlfriend for the first time and his night takes a turn when the couple invites him back to their place.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, threesome F/M/M, degrading!!!! rough sex, sub!reader, age gap, m/m, everyone is down bad for each other okay, oral (M), throat fucking, sir kink, breeding, it’s just hot chaos, kind of polyamory? Anyway yes, Poly!rabbot is a thing and we should invest in it more, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 4.4k+

an: soooooo this came out of this thot!!! Hehehehehe hope y’all enjoy it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated🩷

“Tonight?”

  It is shocking, Robby thinks, that for the first time, Jack wants to introduce him to his girlfriend. All his previous relationships have been shallow and not worth even mentioning, so it truly catches Robby off guard when Jack comes on the day shift with his backpack thrown over his shoulder.

  “Yes, I showed her a picture of us and she got too excited to meet you,” Jack shrugs, slamming the locker door shut before he leans his back on it, looking at Robby patiently, “Can never say no to a pretty young girl like her.”

  “Jesus, she has you wrapped around her fingers already,” Robby rolls his eyes, zipping up his hoodie before dropping his stethoscope around his neck, “I don’t wanna impose. Besides, I’m not your dad to approve of your new girl.”

  “I don’t want your approval,” Jack scoffs, walking shoulder to shoulder with Robby inside The Pitt, “All I want is for you to join us for dinner. I’ve made the reservation, and I know she would love to meet you. So suck it up and come.”

  “Nope, not a chance—“

  “Listen, brother,” Jack stops Robby before they reach the central, “It’s been ages since you went out with…anyone. I’m not asking you to get naked and suck on her tits, I’m asking you to join us for a fucking meal. Maybe you’ll get laid if you step outside your goddamn house.”

  “I can get women in my bed alright,” Robby hisses, pointing at Jack with a glare, “Fine, if you so desperately want me to meet your girlfriend, then fine. But don’t set me up with any of her friends, you hear me? Just the three of us.”

  “Cross my heart, just us.”

  •••

  Robby has been at the bar of the restaurant Jack’s made the reservation at for half an hour. Half a fucking hour. They are late, and Robby’s first impression of Jack’s new girlfriend is already ruined. He hates unpunctual people, Jack knows that, so if he wanted his girl to meet Robby so badly, they should have been here on time.

  He nurses on the glass of Bourbon he has in hand, his sleeves already rolled up. He bounces his leg, chin resting on the back of his wrist as he swirls the liquid in his glass. He is all dressed up for this stupid evening; black button down with dark jeans, a watch on his left wrist, and perfume on.

  He is ready to get up and leave, call Jack, and cuss him out for wasting his time and pulling a prank on him. Robby knows it was wrong to come here in hopes of having a decent time with his friend.

  “Robby?”

  He slowly turns towards the familiar sound of his friend, a scowl forming on his face before he swallows as his eyes fall on you — a pretty thing hanging off Jack’s arm like a prize he has won.

  “Hey, brother,” Jack pulls him in for a hug, patting his back before he turns his eyes back to you to introduce you, “Meet my girl.”

  “Hi,” you extend your hand to Robby, grinning at him, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Robby shakes your hand, biting the inside of his cheek when he notices how you drag your eyes all over him, squeezing his hand when your gaze reconnects.

  You are pretty. He hadn’t seen any pictures before, only Jack’s praises and compliments, but even those words don’t do your beauty justice. He looks you up and down, noticing the tight black dress clinging to your body, the red lipstick proudly tinting your lips.

  You bat your lashes at him, almost looking pleased with yourself that you have him ogling at his best friend’s girlfriend, as if you have planned this.

  “Come on, I booked the table far from everyone,” Jack kisses your bare shoulder, hand spread over your waist as he leads you to the table, glancing back at Robby who is standing on his spot, clenching the hand you were holding a few seconds ago, “You coming?”

  “Yeah, yeah, right behind you.”

  He follows you to the table, running a hand down his face as he watches you take the seat between him and Jack, putting your purse on the table before crossing your legs, gazing at him as he sits down.

  “So,” you lean closer, chin resting on the back of your hand as you look between the two men, “How did you meet each other?”

  “I thought Jack had already told you,” Robby says, grabbing the menu, “Given how he told me you’re excited to meet me.”

  “I want you to tell me, Michael,” you smile, looking at him from under your eyelashes, “Can I call you Michael? Or should I go with Robby?”

  “Robby’s fine,” he doesn’t know he manages to get the words out of him. You must be a force to reckon with, probably how you have managed to charm your way into Jack’s heart. You know what you are doing to him, pushing his buttons and giving him those eyes.

  “I doubt it’s a story you’ll enjoy, doll,” Jack drags his knuckles over your bare arm, grabbing your hand to bring it to his lips. “Should we order wine? Make him loosen up a bit?”

  “Trying to wine and dine me?” Robby scoffs, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here, brother.”

  “You don’t have to do anything!” You reach out and put your hand on his while Jack laces his fingers through yours under the table, “Just enjoy your dinner with us. I promise I’m not some ditzy little girl trying to take your friend’s money.”

  “I never said you were,” Robby doesn’t make a move to remove your touch, he finds it quite nice, actually, the warmth your skin provides with the coldness of the bracelet around your wrist. “It’s… weird to have dinner with a couple. Never done that before.”

  “Well, you are in luck! Cause Jack’s treating us tonight! Red wine and steak, right, baby?” 

  “Of course, doll, anything for my favorite people,” he grins at you, glancing at Robby, who raises his eyebrows in surprise, “What?”

  “Nothing, just… I had no idea I was one of your favorite people,” Robby chuckles, putting the menu down so he can pat your hand, narrowing his eyes at Jack’s teasing smirk.

  “Do you think I take everyone to dinner with my girl?” Jack smiles, and Robby looks between him and you, finding you already looking at him with dazzling eyes, “Why do you think I go up on the roof? ‘Cause I know you’ll come and find me.”

  “So you’re just an attention whore,” Robby snorts, “Not that you’d do it with everyone, but… It’s surprising. You never introduced any of your previous hookups to me or Dana.”

  “I’m not a hookup, Robby—“ you squeal and bite your lip when Jack grabs the foot of your chair, dragging you closer to his side, kissing you feverishly on the mouth for a hot second, “Jack! We’re in public.”

  “Don’t care,” Jack pecks your lips again, and the sight makes Robby’s heartbeat rise, “You look too beautiful right now, don’t you agree, brother?”

  Robby is sure he is bright red with how you bite your lip and giggle. He doesn’t know what he has to say, it is inappropriate, he knows it, hell, even Jack knows it, but it doesn’t make your or Jack’s mood sour, in fact, it’s making you both excited.

  “No comment,” he grabs the glass of water on the table, taking a large sip while he looks back down at the menu to hide his face and embarrassment, but he can’t, not when you lean over the table to hold his hand.

  “Hey, look at me,” you pull on his fingers gently until you have his attention, his heated cheeks making his brown eyes more noticeable, “He doesn’t mind, you can admit that I look good.”

  “I’m not gonna flirt with my friend’s girlfriend in front of him.”

  “So you’d do it when I’m not around, huh?” Jack licks his lips, staring at Robby like he has said something that might ruin his entire life forever.

  Robby doesn’t know if the color is drained from his face or his cheeks are getting hot enough to cook a meal on them, either way, he is a mess. You are looking at him like you want to eat him whole, and Jack’s stare is enough to initiate the thought that he might tear Robby’s clothes in half.

  So yes, Robby is a fucking mess.

  “Let’s order before our poor boy passes out on us.” You kiss Jack’s cheek, nuzzling your face into his neck, leaving red stains all over his pale skin.

  Robby is fucking grateful that the table is far in the corner of the restaurant, being out of sight and earshot or he would have fainted long ago. 

  “I’m twice your age, doll, not your boy,” Robby says, finding the last bit of his confidence, “And I don’t pass out from flirting. ‘M not that weak.”

  “Is that an invitation to do more than just flirting?” Jesus fucking christ, Robby is going to have a stroke if you keep sweet talking him into… he doesn’t even know where you are leading him to, but he is near exploding — from desire, from pent up tension, from embarrassment.

  “Easy there, doll,” Jack chuckles, pointing at the waiter to come and take your orders, glancing at Robby with an easy smile, “Don’t scare him off so soon. At least let him enjoy his dinner.”

  Jack knows the effect you are having on Robby; he can see it. Robby is an open book to him, they have been working together for years, spent countless hours next to each other, so it shouldn’t be a shock when Jack catches a whiff of Robby’s arousal from the distance — he is already half-hard, it should be embarrassing, but with the way you bite your lip and blink up at him like you’re staring at a diamond statue worth million dollars and Jack smiling and looking at him with his intense eyes… he is done for good.

  “Maybe we should just leave, Jack,” you are talking to your boyfriend, but your heels are dragging up his calf, the pointed tip digging into Robby’s jeans as you slowly move them up. He grabs your ankle gently, giving you a pointed look before he looks back down at the menu, pretending to read the words.

  “That’d be rude,” Jack says, kissing the side of your head, “Order for me too, I’ll be right back.”

  “‘Kay,” you beam at him, looking back at Robby, who is glaring at you — there is no ill intent in his eyes, just pure confusion and lust, “So, what do you say?”

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Oh, come on, Robby!” You manage to drag your foot upper, lips parting in satisfaction when you nudge the bulge in his jeans, “It’s so fucking obvious that I want you.”

  “You have a boyfriend, my friend, I can never—“

  “Betray him? Well guess what,” you rest your forearms on the table, squeezing your tits together and smiling when you notice how Robby’s eyes drop down for a second, “He wants you too. I’m not falling for the ‘he is just a friend, he is my coworker’ bullshit. We want you, both of us, and… it seems you want us too.”

  “I… It’s not okay—“

  “Says who, Robby?” You whine, pouting at him like a child — he wants to call you a child, he wants to cuss you out and do unspeakable things to you, things he is ashamed of, things he shouldn’t be thinking about. “One night, that’s all we’re asking. You know, I asked Jack about you. His extremely sexy friend with sad eyes…”

  “What do you want from me?” Robby asks, voice hoarse and legs shaking as he squeezes your ankle.

  “We want you, that’s all,” Jack comes back, sitting down in front of him, cupping your jaw and digging his fingers into your cheeks, “Look at you, already so fucked out from flirting with him, what a slut.”

  Robby’s heart stops, his pupils dilate in a second as he hears that one word. Slut. Jack called you a slut and you are grinning at him like you have been rewarded. 

  He has always been skeptical about this side of him; he is a gentleman, he’s been told. Always making sure women feel safe with him, always looking out for them, even during sex, he has never allowed himself to go there and call them names. He felt it might demean them as a person, even though he was into it more than he would like to admit.

  “Are you going to join us?” Jack pulls Robby out of his thoughts, “My truck is outside, ready to go to our place.”

  “I don’t know—“

  “Please? Of course, if you’re really uncomfortable—“

  “I’m not,” he cuts you off, running a hand down his face as he purses his lips, “I don’t want to do something that might mess with my friendship.”

  “I think you’d mess it up if you don’t come with us and fuck my girlfriend,” Jack shrugs, standing up to extend his hand to you, and you take it, grabbing your purse to stand up next to him, waiting for Robby to join you.

  “Fine,” Fine. Yeah. Totally. Like, he isn’t about to get his hands on his best friend’s girlfriend. Like, this is totally normal for Jack to invite him to his place. Totally normal.

  You smile broadly, letting go of Jack to grab Robby’s hand, pulling him towards the exit as Jack walks ahead of you to his truck. 

  Robby can feel your excitement; your hands are shaking, a skip in your steps, and a grin you try to hide as you bid your farewell to the waiters and drag him to Jack’s car. You open the backseat door, urging him to go sit in the middle before you crawl inside too, waiting for Jack to turn on the engine and move.

  As soon as the car starts moving, you ditch your purse and straddle Robby’s lap, sitting yourself right on the tent in his pants, arms wrapping around his neck, leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss to test the waters.

  Robby groans, large palms caressing the path of your bare thighs to your waist before he meets you halfway this time, lips locking in a passionate kiss. One of his hands moves up to grab the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to his body while he licks his way into your mouth.

  He doesn’t notice how Jack’s grip tightens around the wheel, occasionally glancing back to see how desperately his girlfriend is grinding her hips down on Robby’s bulge.

  You moan into Robby’s mouth when his zipper comes in contact with your heated cunt, the wet spot in your thong leaving its trail over the fabric of his jeans as you let him explore your mouth like a starved man, scratching his beard under his jaw.

  There’s spit, tongue, teeth, everything Robby has ever felt in this kiss. It is a mess in your mouth, a mess he created, and when he pulls back, he sees how your lipstick is smudged all over your chin and swollen lips — truly, he has never seen a sight so beautiful as this.

  “We’re here,” Jack announces, his voice cracking as he looks at the pair from his rear mirror, cutting off the engine before he jumps down off the truck, opening the backseat door to help you out.

  You crawl out of Robby’s lap with one last kiss on the corner of his mouth, holding Jack’s hand to steady yourself and pull down the hem of your dress, waiting for Robby to join you. 

  The three of you walk to the building’s elevator as nonchalantly as possible, acting like you weren’t sucking on each other’s mouths a few moments earlier. But as soon as the elevator’s door is shut, Jack is kissing you on the lips while Robby presses himself to your back, trailing his tongue over your pulse point.

  You moan into your boyfriend’s mouth, one hand tangled in his curly hair while the other circles around Robby’s neck to hold him close. You can feel the warmth of their arousal against your body — hot, heavy, and begging for attention. 

  You feel Robby move away quickly when he hears the sound of the elevator’s ‘ding’, and it makes you and Jack chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry, no one’s gonna catch us,” Jack replies, grabbing your hand to pull you into the hallway, silently forcing Robby to follow, “We’re the only people living on this floor.”

  “Lucky—“

  “Urgh, enough talking!” You groan, grabbing Jack’s keys from his hand before unlocking the door, pulling both men inside the apartment by their collars, “We have much more important things to do.”

  You don’t let them respond, you just grab Robby by his sleeve and pull him to the couch, pushing him down on the cushions before you crawl into his lap for the second time tonight, crashing your lips into his.

  Jack stands behind you, unbuttoning his shirt before he reaches to grab you by the back of your neck, pulling you away from Robby roughly, tilting your head back so he can look at you from above.

  “Wanna suck him off, doll?” Jack leans down, pecking your lips before he chuckles at your quick nods, “One dick wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

  “No…”

  “I know, greedy little slut,” he taps your cheek, standing back a little to give you room to stand up, but before you can kneel between Robby’s legs, Jack stops you, bending you down by a hand on the space between your shoulders, “You didn’t think I’d let you kneel, huh? It’d be really fucking rude to not let me fuck you while you blow my best friend.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Robby gasps when you only nod and unzip his pants, muttering a soft ‘yes sir’ in reply to Jack, pushing your hips back to your boyfriend’s bulge, grinding yourself against him as best as you can before you feel him reach between your bodies to undo his belt.

  “Do you always talk to her like that?” Robby gasps when you wrap your fingers around his cock, watching how you marvel at the size, stroking it a few times before you lower your mouth on the tip.

  “She loves it, brother,” Jack chuckles, pushing your dress over your waist and dragging your thong down your thighs, biting the flesh of your thigh in the process before he straightens his back, “Look at her, she is drenched. If not a whore than why act like one?”

  You hum around Robby, bracing your weight on your forearms on his thighs while Jack holds your hips in his steady hands, not letting you fall while you are bent over. 

  Robby sighs, hand reaching to rest over your head as you take him down your throat slowly, slurping and gagging in the process. His gaze goes from your red lips stretched out around his cock to Jack pumping himself, slowly lining up the tip with your cunt before he slams himself inside you. You jolt forward, moaning around Robby as your boyfriend fills you up completely. 

  Robby doesn’t know where to look; to your face that is covered in smudged makeup or to where you and Jack are connected, the globes of your ass hitting Jack’s hips as he picks up his pace. 

   “Fuck,” he groans when you angle your head to take more of him, and Jack siezes the moment to grab your arms and pull them behind you, leaving you choking around Robby’s dick.

  “Don’t be gentle with her,” Jack says in a deep throaty tone, smirking at the feeling of your walls tightening around his dick, “She gets off on it. C’mon, brother, tell her how much of a dumb slut she is, I mean, look at her.”

  Robby has always been hesitant to indulge in this side of himself, rightfully so, because none of his previous partners have ever allowed him to open up about his fantasies. It is strange to finally be given the green light not by one, but two people.

  “Really? You come just by being talked down to?” His tone is condescending, humiliating even, but when bites his lip and nods at Robby, he knows he is doing a good job, “Fucking pathetic.”

  Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Robby guides you up and down his length with his fingers tangled in your hair, the angry red tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again.

  “I told you,” Jack groans, nails digging into your waist as he pounds into you, “Taking two cocks at the same time. Maybe we should both fuck her holes together, what do you say? I’m pretty fucking sure she’d love it.”

  Your legs are aching, Robby notices; they are shaking and barely holding you up as Jack drills his cock deep inside you, pulling you to the edge of your orgasm quickly.

  “Are you going to come?” Robby pulls you off of his dick, leaning down to kiss you hard on the mouth, making sure you can take a breath in before he kisses you again, “Do it, come around him, I wanna see how he wrecks you.”

  You can’t form a coherent word when Robby reaches for your clit, burying his face into your neck as he stares into Jack’s eyes, watching how slams himself into you a few times before he comes, coating your insides white with a breathy moan of your name.

  Your high hits you like a truck, shuddering and quivering with meaningless words falling from your lips, gushing around Jack’s dick as he holds you pressed to him, making sure you take every drop of his cum.

  “Don’t make him wait,” Jack delivers a harsh slap on your ass, helping you crawl into Robby’s lap with weak legs, “Use my cum as lube, fuck him good, make sure he knows you’re his fucking toy too.”

  “Yes, sir,” you giggle and push Robby back, raising on your knees as Jack comes to stand behind you, reaching between you and Robby’s body to grab Robby’s cock, stroking him with a tight grip before he guides you to sit on it, “F-fuck—“

  “Shit,” Robby mouth parts in shock; you are warm, so so warm and welcoming, and Jack’s cum is leaking around his cock as you sit on him, keeping Jack’s seed locked in place, “You want me to fill you up too?”

  “Please!” You whimper, resting your hands on his shoulders so you can bounce up and down, vision getting blurry as his fat cock nudges your cervix so beautifully, “So big, so fuckin’—ah, fuck—“

  “He is big, isn’t he? But you can take it, I know you can. Be a good whore for him, yes— there she is,” Jack bites your neck, grabbing Robby’s hand to put them on your boobs while his own palms run down to your hips, helping you move faster, “Talk to her, brother, she fucking loves it.”

  “Yeah?” Robby squeezes your tits, long fingers playing with your nipples as you nod mindlessly, wailing out at the stretch of his cock while you ride him with all the energy you have left, “You love when I give you attention too? Your boyfriend wasn’t enough so you had to fuck his friend too. Disgusting, chasing the closest dick you could, I’m so fucking glad it was me.”

  Robby thrusts his hips upward, throwing his head back as he feels his balls tightening. The warmth and wetness of your pussy being too much for him, he knows he is close, it seems that Jack knows too.

  “C’mere,” Jack caresses Robby’s fully clothed chest up to his chin, grabbing his jaw tightly before he leans over your shoulder to kiss him. 

  The sight of the two men kissing is enough to make your vision go blank, legs trying to close around Robby’s wide hips as you come, white hot pleasure rushing through your veins. 

  Jack pulls away, his hand moving to Robby’s neck as you both look at the older man — flushed, breathless, and ready to come. You don’t stop riding him, not before making sure he gives you his load too. You move forward to kiss Robby as well while Jack holds his neck in place, his other hand helping you move your hips in fast circles.

  “Come for me, sir,” you gasp against Robby’s mouth, clenching your walls around his throbbing cock as you grind down on him, “I need it— give it to me!”

  “Fu—ahck!” Robby’s hands fly to your hips, holding you down as he finally comes, shooting ropes of his seed inside you with a deep throaty groan, eyes closed and cheeks on fire.

  “Yeah, make'er full, brother.” Jack kisses your head, his smile matching your lazy, tired grin as you watch Robby ride his high, giving you possibly the biggest load he has ever had.

  You fall on Robby’s chest, and Jack moves to sit next to the two of you, watching how you and Robby wrap your arms around each other while trying to catch your breath.

  “How was it?” You ask in a hushed voice, pressing soft kisses on Robby’s blushing neck, trailing your kisses up to his face, “Good? Bad? Out of this world?”

  “I’m fucking dizzy, give me a second,” you laugh at Robby’s tired voice, slowly stroking his hair, looking back at Jack who only shrugs runs a hand through his hair.

  “What? You too?”

  “We need at least two hours before we can fuck you again,” Jack says, ushering you to slowly deatach yourself from Robby, snuggling between the two of them on the couch with their mixed cum leaking out of you.

  “I mean…” Robby glances at you when you start talking, “You got two mouths and four skilled hands.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Jack smirks, looking at Robby with raised eyebrows, “What do you say?”

  “Maybe we should fuck the cheekiness out of her.”

  “Or maybe you could fuck each other and I watch,” You beam at them, “Though fully naked next time, and on the bed. I can’t feel my legs.”

[dollishmehrayan]

𐔌 . ⋮ DAMIAN WAYNE AS A S/O .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( solo damian wayne x reader run )

𝜗𝜚 a/n: I’ve been reading damian’s run these days and aww stop he’s so adorable anyways I thought why not to write something for him to get out my writers block sooo enjoy?? anyways I was pressured by my bbg @kyriakis to post this so after this I’ll probably write genuine hcs of him only of things he probably does / used to based off canon, tags: ( damian wayne x reader ) ! Disclaimer the following tags include jason, dick, bruce, Tim even when not mentioned this allows for the fandom to equally react since most don’t follow damian tag

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

A BIT OF A GREAT GIFTER ── .✦

Damian’s idea of romance is... a little dramatic. You once casually mentioned how you like the color purple or any other color and the next day you received an extravagant bouquet of rare lavender flowers, LIKE THIS MAN REMEMBERS WELL.

“Purple is a necessary part of your aesthetic,” he states nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But then, if you ever mention how much you love a particular type of chocolate or a specific scent, he’ll track it down and somehow acquire it without you knowing and just say it’s a ‘gift’ as if he didn’t spend hours finding it.

And if you dare to ask him about it? PFFFF

“Tt, don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply noticed the details, as any competent person would.”

DRAMATIC BUT ON LEVEL 10 ── .✦

Damian acts like you’re going on an actual mission when you leave the house. “What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You can’t just walk around Gotham. There’s danger everywhere.”, “It’s just a bodega damian.”

And even if it’s just a trip to the store, he’ll insist on accompanying you with that “I’m doing this for your own safety” tone, but the moment you come back home, he acts like he’s been out on patrol the entire time.

“I’ve successfully completed the task of ensuring no harm came to you.” HIS LOVE IS IN ACTIONS NOT WORDS OKAY?!

He says this while wearing a full suit and tie, because of course, that makes sense for a walk to the bodega ( corner shop )

Not the Best at Compliments, but...

Damian’s way of showing affection can be a little... rough. But somehow, it always gets the point across, think of like people being sarcastic as a love language but his seems to be like kinda blunt? Where at first he won’t say out loud ‘oh I love you’ no but he isn’t ignorant either, he knows he loves you and that’s validated to him.

“You’re fine. I mean, I guess I could see how someone would find you attractive. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

And then he’ll look at you, almost daring you to call him out. But in truth, his eyes are saying, “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world, but I’ll never admit it because I am Damian Wayne, and I am far too cool for this.”

The thing is, though, he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy, even if it means begrudgingly going out of his way to make sure you get exactly what you want.

WILL DEFEND YOU 100% ── .✦

one of his brothers say something mildly annoying to you?

“Don’t talk to them like that.”

Damian’s got your back no matter how small the offense.

Someone’s being rude to you in public? He’s ready to pull a full I’m Damian Wayne, son of Batman, sole heir to ra’s al ghul and start a verbal altercation, followed by a very intense, “No, they didn’t just say that about you” look.

You? Trying to defuse the situation like a normal person?

Damian? “Nope, too late. I already decided it’s a fight now, this is mockery.

If you’re lucky, he’ll look at you and say, “It’s okay. I’m protecting you,” with a glint in his eye that says, “And you better be grateful.”

GENUINELY DOESNT GET PDA BUT FOR A GOOD REASON ── .✦

Damian’s not one to show affection publicly. In fact, he’ll try to avoid touching you at all if he’s around anyone. But the second he’s sure no one is looking, you’ll catch him glaring at you from across the room like, “We’re together, and everyone should know it, but I won’t say it.” BUT he isn’t embarrassed by you or isn’t hiding you relationship

It’s just private not secret.

He’ll give you the occasional side-hug or brush your hand ever so slightly, then immediately retreat like nothing happened if you don’t grab it fast enough.

But if you’re standing near him, don’t be surprised when he casually places a hand on your shoulder or rests his head on yours... only for it to turn into the most awkward five seconds ever, followed by an immediate, “What? It’s not like I wanted to do that. You were in my personal space.” HE DOESNR WANT TO ADMIT HE’S DEPENDENT 😭

So, yeah. PDA with Damian is... complicated, BUT ITS DIFFERENT

“It’s a Normal Relationship. I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About”

Damian, when you ask if he wants to do something like go for a walk, or watch a movie together:

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re not doing anything special. This is just a normal... well, normal for us. What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And yet, there he is, sitting with you, absolutely enjoying the time together trying to act like it's nothing special, but he’s leaning in just a little too close to you to be that casual.

Sometimes, he’ll act like he’s too cool for the typical date stuff, but in reality, he’s all in. He’s just trying to pretend he’s not, to maintain his Bat-cred.

COMPETITIVE TO A TEA ── .✦

This seems like a regular occurrence for him where, it’s not only you but anyone, he likes competition and challenges in general by classmates, friends, you, teammates, anyone. ( This also why he doesn’t do well on teams in canon but we ain’t ready for this convo )

Whenever there’s something to compete over whether it’s a simple game or a sparring match damian’s all in. He takes everything way too seriously.

“I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Damian: “Tt, you think I’m going to let you win? You underestimate me immensely this is social injustice to my name.”

And the next thing you know, he’s strategizing his every move, plotting out every turn like he’s planning an actual mission. MEANWHILE ITS JUST JENGA DAMN

When he inevitably wins (because he’s Damian Wayne, and you knew he was going to), he’ll throw you the most smug smile.

“I told you. You should’ve known better.”

BUT HE LOVES YOU ── .✦

Underneath the tough exterior, Damian’s a softie who occasionally lets his guard down when you're alone together. He might not say it, but you know when he's trying to be vulnerable.

For example, one evening, after a particularly intense patrol or he says something too smart during a simple game of uno , he’ll just stare at you, quietly, in the way that only Damian can.

“You’re... okay, right? I didn’t, uh, hurt you…. I apologize for my lack of understanding if that hurt you.”

You’ll blink and be like, “You literally saved me like 10 minutes ago?”

And he’ll just look away, muttering something like, “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt. I just... don’t want to lose anyone again.” ( damian ‘I will not have anyone dying for my mistakes the way he did’ Wayne ☹️

And then he’ll change the subject super quickly, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his fears

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [8] - Diplomacy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 And please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: The first day of work can be stressful.

Warnings: Explicit language, yearning.

Word Count: 4381

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was exactly what the first day of school used to feel like.

You couldn’t stop the sigh leaving your lips as you stared up at the Capitol Building, trying to ignore the anxiety churning your stomach. You knew you were supposed to go in, but somehow your legs refused to listen to you, so you exhaled slowly the way your therapist had taught you to get at least some sort of—

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

You jumped out of your skin, then pressed a hand over your chest and glared at Bucky.

“What did I say about sneaking up on people?”

“In my defense, you looked pretty out of it already.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And as I said; not too late to change your mind. We can still leave.”

“Right,” you said with a laugh. “So we just forget about the Congress and everything and go away?”

He grinned. “Mm hm.”

“Where?”

“Brooklyn.”

You tilted your head. “Except that Brooklyn elected you as their representative, I feel like they’d ask what the hell you’re doing there.”

“You make a good point,” he said and thought for a moment. “Okay, new plan.”

“I’m listening.”

“We get new names and identities, move to a small town where no one knows us, and grow old and gray there in peace. We never check the news, ever.”

Your heart skipped a beat but you tried to focus. “Do we have to change Alpine’s name too?”

“I don’t think she’d let us,” he said, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “She missed you, by the way.”

This was not flirting.

This was just friendly. That was it. Two friends talking.

About running away together.

“I missed her too,” you said. “How does she like your new place?”

“She doesn’t,” he murmured before turning to glance at the building. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“Are you talking to me or yourself?”

“Yes.”

You repressed a laugh and bumped your shoulder against his.

“Come on,” you said as you started walking with him next to you. “Today is your day, and you’re gonna be very busy.”

“Yeah, the schedule was pages long,” he said. “I have meetings with people I don’t even know about.”

“Think of it like your debutante ball,” you told him. “They all want to see if you’re the right fit for them, how much dowry you have, and if they can bed you.”

“Please talk to me about something else.”

“Okay. “You shrugged your shoulders. “Onto some heartwarming news; I told Max to go fuck himself last night.”

Bucky frowned. “Hold on, he’s still calling you?”

“I called him,” you said. “He got the apartment after I prepared my boxes and stuff, and I paid the movers extra so that they would move everything without me being there, but apparently Max went through my boxes even if he refuses to admit it, because Blinky is not in any of them.”

“Who’s Blinky?” He paused for a moment. “Or what is Blinky?”

“Blinky is my childhood plushie,” you said. “It’s a fox plushie with one eye, the other eye fell off on the first day, that’s why I named him that. I took him everywhere I moved, and guess what? Max refuses to give him back.”

“Well, that’s interesting information.”

“I know, right?” you asked as you both walked into the building and held up your IDs to go through the security even if Bucky didn’t need to do that. “He claims he hasn’t seen him, but I’m so sure he hides him somewhere in the apartment.”

“You have a toy?”

“It’s a plushie.”

“It’s a toy.”

“It’s a plushie—you know what, I’m not going to stand in the Capitol hallway to argue semantics about my nostalgic childhood plushie with you,” you said while Bucky grinned at you. “You have one thousand things to do and so do I, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That wiped his grin off his face. “Wait, tomorrow? You’re not gonna be around?”

“I’ll be gone all day.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Birdie, no—”

“I have the orientation, I’ll have to meet everyone and stuff, and apparently there’s this tour… It’ll be chaotic. Kels will be with you though, and Caleb as well.”

“But it wouldn’t take you all day,” Bucky tried to convince you as if you were the one who planned the schedule. “What are they going to do, make you tour the place twice? Just tell them you have stuff to do.”

“This is my stuff to do.”

“So you’re leaving me alone with these people?”

You tried not to laugh at the look of betrayal on his face.

“These people are going to be your colleagues,” you reminded him. “So you need to make friends with them. You don’t need me for that.”

“I do need you for that, actually,” he argued. “I don’t…I don’t make friends.”

“Fine, don’t make friends with them, just be civil. You charmed half of Brooklyn, remember?”

“Because you were there.”

“You’ve been through literally the hardest things anyone can go through—”

“To repeat, none of those things required making friends. Or socializing for that matter.”

“You’ll be fine, and I’ll drop by the office if I can,” you assured him. “But remember. Diplomacy. That’s the currency here.”

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

You took a step to leave, then turned around again to look at him.

“I feel like this goes without saying when it comes to diplomacy, but do not glare at or threaten anyone.”   

Bucky stared at you as if you had just asked him whether Alpine could fly and you pursed your lips, then rolled your shoulders back.

“It’s gonna go great,” you muttered to yourself as you started walking again. “Diplomacy, here we come.”

                                      *

Okay, you expected today to be chaotic, but you did not know it would be this chaotic.

It felt like for the whole day you had been running to one place or the other, and by the time you had found some time to yourself, it was way past lunch time. You had about half an hour until the next item on the schedule so you figured you could drop by Bucky’s office to talk to Kelsey and Caleb and see how Bucky was doing so far.

When you entered the office, most of the team was busy with either their phones or laptops, but Caleb and Kelsey were watching Bucky’s closed door, having a discussion in whispers. You tilted your head, then made your way to them.

 “Is everything okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Caleb asked. “My orientation lasted all day.”

“Mine will too, I just got a break—what is happening?”

Kelsey licked her lips. “Guess who asked for a last minute meeting with Bucky.”

“Who?”

“Amos Drexel.”

Your stomach dropped and you gawked at her. “Sorry?”

“I think you guys are the only people who know this person.”

 “I’ve been memorizing everyone’s faces and names and titles since the election night,” she said. “And trust me, people know who he is. People in high places, if you know what I mean.”

“Kels, he’s just a consultant.”

Kelsey scoffed. “He’s not just a consultant, Caleb.”

“A lobbyist.”

“Lobbyists come and go, this guy has been bribing and extorting the politicians for like, decades. He has half of them in his pocket.”

“I feel like I would’ve heard about him,” Caleb said and Kelsey shook her head.

“He’s too smart for that,” she said. “It’s easier for him if the public thinks he’s just a consultant. But trust me, every single politician here knows about him.”

“What is he doing here?” you asked, your heartbeat getting faster as you stole a look at the closed door. “I checked Bucky’s schedule this morning, he wasn’t there.”

“As I said, last minute meeting,” Kelsey said. “What was I supposed to do when Drexel wanted to see him, ask him to reschedule? I squeezed him in.”

“If he tries to bribe Bucky, I feel like he might kill him.”

“Obviously but that’s not the point,” Kelsey said while you grabbed her penholder so that you could do something with your hands. “The point is, if Drexel is here, it means he wants to—”

You dropped the penholder as soon as the door opened, and you ducked under the desk to gather the pencils as he passed by the desk.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnes.” You heard him say as he walked out of the door and you put all the pens into the holder, then got up from under the desk, letting out a breath.

Bucky looked absolutely furious as he glared in the direction he had disappeared into before his eyes found yours, his gaze softening in a second. You gave him a tightlipped smile and put the holder on the desk—

And the rest of the room turned to the door again.

“Almost forgot.” His voice reached your ears, making your whole body tense up. “Honey? Your mom wants to know if you’re free for dinner next weekend.”

Oh.

Oh he had planned this.

Of course he did. He knew every schedule in this goddamn place, and he knew the moment you had a break, you’d come straight to Bucky’s office.

You forced yourself to ignore the whole team and Bucky staring at you, your cheeks burning in humiliation as you turned around to glare at your father who was standing by the door with a calm smile on his face.

“Make sure to text her please,” he told you. “Have a great first day.”

Then he walked away, leaving the whole office in a stunned silence.

You could feel the tears of frustration burning the back of your eyes but this was neither the time nor the place. You blinked a couple of times, clenching your jaw and then made a beeline into Bucky’s office with Caleb and Kelsey rushing after you. Kelsey closed the door behind her and you licked your lips, taking a deep breath.

“I can explain that—”

“He’s your father?” Caleb asked and you cleared your throat.

“Well…”

“Why is your surname different?”

“How is he your father?” Caleb and Kelsey asked at the same time and you cleared your throat.

“I’ve been asking the same question to my mother for ages now.” You tried to joke as you stole a look at Bucky who was just watching you with an unreadable look on his face.

“Your father is Amos Drexel and you still have roommates?” Kelsey asked, motioning at herself and Caleb, and you shook your head fervently.

“I’m broke.”

Caleb scoffed. “Oh come on—”

“No, I am.” You pulled your phone out to open up your bank app, then showed the screen to them. “See? Totally broke.”

That seemed to have snapped Bucky out of the haze he was in. “Wait, you need money?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head fervently. “No I don’t.”

Caleb stared at your phone screen. “How is that even possible?”

“I got myself a separate bank account when I was eighteen,” you said. “I wouldn’t touch his money with a gun to my head, I know where it comes from. And before you ask, I won’t touch it when he dies either, it will go straight to charity.”

“And he’s okay with that?”

“Not at all but he ignores it, just like he ignores how I’ve been begging him to disown me for years,” you said and turned to Bucky. “Please say something.”

Bucky just held your gaze for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Your surname is different?”

“I changed it to my mother’s maiden name the day I turned eighteen,” you said. “You should’ve seen the paperwork.”

Bucky pointed at the door. “Birdie, I just told your father to go to hell.”

“You—” Kelsey’s eyes widened. “You told him to go to hell?”

“With different words.”

“What words?”

Bucky raised his brows, then motioned at her and you. “You two are here, I can’t exactly say what I said.”

“Bucky how many times must we tell you that people can curse around—” Caleb started but Kelsey cut him off, throwing her head back to look up at the ceiling like she was asking for help.

“Jesus, we’re not gonna last a term.”

“Would he assassinate him?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No one is going to assassinate me, Caleb.”

“Hypothetically, would it even count as assassination if he killed you?”

“No.”

“I was going to say who died and left you in charge of assassinations, but I think everyone in this room knows the answer—”

“Bucky, I don’t think you understand,” Kelsey insisted. “Let’s say you’re Aragorn, this guy is Sauron!”

You made a face.

“He’s not Sauron, his power does have a limit.” You paused for a moment. “He’s Saruman at best.”

“Thanks, that makes it so much better—”

“Can we have the room?” Bucky cut her off and Kelsey and Caleb exchanged glances, then left the office. You could feel the anxiety churning your stomach but you swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes on him.

“Bucky…”

“Why not tell me?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Would you have hired me?”

He frowned. “Of course I would.”

“And how would that go? Here’s my resume, oh by the way, my father bribes and extorts politicians for a living?” you asked. “See, I don’t think you would.”

“So your solution was to keep it a secret? Even after we—” He stopped himself. “Even after we started working together?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I couldn’t just tell you,” you said. “Listen, I wanted to work in politics, and…”

“And you could’ve easily got a job here,” Bucky told you. “You didn’t have to wait until I got elected.”

“Do you think that’s why I’m doing this?” you asked. “Bucky, I don’t want to work for a politician who is only gonna hire me because of my father, he stands for the opposite of everything I believe in—”

“And it’s been like that from the beginning?” he asked, making you pull back. “From the first minute we started working together?”

When the realization crashed down on you, it tightened your throat like a fist.

“You don’t believe me,” you muttered, biting inside your cheek and he let out a breath.

“Birdie, listen—”

“No, you listen,” you cut him off. “The next time you accuse me of working for my father, or—or having anything to do with his corruption, I will walk away, Bucky. I’ll pick one of the many job offers being thrown at me from someone who’s not in my father’s pocket -surprisingly, there are still some of those- and I’ll go and work for them. So I guess the question you should be asking is, do you really want that to happen?”

With that, you stormed out of the office and made your way to the stairs without sparing anyone a glance, your heart still pounding in your chest.

                                                 *

Well needless to say, as far as first days went, that one was not so good.

You had gone straight home after work without dropping by Bucky’s office again. Caleb came home an hour after you, and Kelsey was the last one to arrive, and they had a lot of questions.

At least they had both brought booze and snacks.

And now, way past midnight, all of you were sitting on the floor, still drinking and snacking but the air felt much lighter.

“I just want to say, Birdie,” Caleb said. “Even if your father is a demon sent from hell to bribe politicians, we love you.”

“Aw, thanks Caleb.”

“Can I also point out that,” Kelsey said, reaching for some chips, “it sure is weird that we have a TV, a fucking gramophone—”

“No badmouthing my gramophone, Kels.”

“But we don’t have a couch?”

“We’ll buy a couch,” you said, throwing a piece of chocolate in air to catch it with your mouth. “Like, next month. When we can afford it.”

“Maybe we should let your father know his daughter doesn’t have a couch, so that he can send us a gold one.”

You shot her a look and she grinned.

“These jokes will continue, just so you know.”

“I know, I know…” you muttered and pointed at the TV. “Swipe left.”

“No, swipe right!” Caleb told Kelsey who tilted her head, still holding her thumb over her phone screen. You had connected her phone to the TV and for over an hour you were going over the ‘options’ for her as Caleb had put it, and even though you’d had doubts at first, this turned out to be much more fun than watching political news.

“I mean he does give off fuckboy vibes, Caleb.”

“I don’t give a shit, he has a dog,” Caleb said. “One of us has to find someone with a dog. Birdie already has Bucky, who has an asshole cat—”

“I don’t have Bucky, and Alpine is a pretty princess.”

“And I’m a dog person,” Caleb said, pointing at the picture on the screen. “Maybe he’ll bring over his dog.”

“You make a good point,” Kelsey said as she swiped right, and all of you made a face at the next picture on the screen.

“Left!”

“Do you guys think I’ll have to work for someone else?”

“I think Bucky would rather resign himself than fire you,” Kelsey stated and Caleb nodded, taking a fistful of jellybeans into his palm.

“She’s right,” he said. “Do you want the green ones?”

“Yes please,” you said and held out your hand so that he could put the green jellybeans in your palm, and you popped them in your mouth. “And if he doesn’t trust me anymore?”

“That’s why he looked like a kicked puppy when I told Kels you were already home within his earshot?”

You let out a whine and downed your drink. “It’s gonna be so weird when I see him tomorrow.”

“Just pretend nothing happened,” Kelsey said, making Caleb scoff.  

“I’m sure it’s a very healthy approach to disagreements in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” you said sulkily as the roar of a motorcycle outside reached the apartment. “He’s in a relationship with Hazel fucking—swipe right on this one Kels—Brooks.”

“Who hates your guts because she knows Bucky likes you.”

“Right,” you said with a laugh. “Because Bucky would ever leave his hot, successful, billionaire girlfriend —who is, if I may repeat, super hot— to be with me.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

You flailed your arms. “We don’t even have a damn couch, Kels!”

“Then he fucks you on the floor, who cares?” Caleb exclaimed as he poured more wine into your glass, and your phone buzzed on the floor. You picked it up, sitting up straighter the moment you saw the text.

From: Winter Is Coming

Hey. Are you awake?

“What the…” you muttered and turned the screen to Caleb and Kelsey so that they could read the text. “Is this a ‘you up’ text? Is Bucky sending me a you up text?”

“The man has to google half of the things I text him, but he’s sending you a you up text, sure.” Kelsey scoffed a laugh. “See, told you things would work out. That’s gonna be an apology text, text him back.”

You sent a quick yes, your heartbeat getting faster as Caleb grinned.

“He’s so lying in bed thinking about you, aw!”

“He’s not doing that— ” You started but you were cut off when your phone buzzed in your hand.

Do you mind stepping outside for a minute?

“Holy shit!”

“Caleb, stop shouting!”

“He’s here?!”

“Oh my God, oh my God…” You jumped on your feet, fanning yourself. “What do I do?”

“Well, you calm down,” Kelsey said, getting up as well. “And you go outside.”

“How do I look?”

“You look great.” Kelsey pulled your top down a little and wiggled her brows. “For good luck.”

You took a deep breath, fixed your hair, and rushed out of the apartment to make your way downstairs, then you stepped out of the building to find him leaning against his motorcycle. 

Goddamn it.

You were supposed to be angry at him, but somehow the butterflies in your stomach refused to listen to you.

“To repeat,” you said as you walked down the stairs and approached him. “I have a doorbell.”

“It’s 2 a.m.” Bucky replied, his eyes fixed on you, making your heart skip a beat. “I figured Caleb and Kelsey would be asleep.”

“Nope, we’re picking guys for Kelsey,” you said. “So what brings you here?”

Bucky paused for a moment and licked his lips.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “About today…”

“Listen, I know you’re gonna say I should’ve told you but you need to understand—”

“I’m sorry.”

That made you stop talking and your eyes snapped up to his, a confused frown pulling your brows together. Bucky gave you an apologetic smile and cleared his throat as if he was willing to get the words out.

“I don’t like it when people hide things from me, and I…” He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes from yours for a moment. “I trust you a lot, so when you—”

You shook your head fervently. “Bucky, I would never betray your trust.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” you insisted. “Because I need you to know that. I would never go behind your back and do anything to—to hurt you in any way.”

That soft light appeared in his blue eyes. “I know.”

“It’s just not who I am.”

“I know, Birdie.”

You bit inside your cheek.

“And I’m sorry too,” you muttered, pressing your palms on your eyes for a moment before dropping your hands. “I swear, something evil comes out of me whenever someone so much as mentions me being anything like him. Especially when I spent years trying to prove that I’m not.”

“I get that.”

You looked down, shifting your weight from one foot to other, then raised your head to smile up at him.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked. “You can help us pick guys for Kels, and there’s wine and snacks.”

“Tempting offer,” he said. “But I’m actually here to drop something off.”

You frowned as he reached into the box behind his motorcycle. “What? I’m pretty sure I got all the files—”

You stopped talking the moment you saw what he pulled out of the box, a gasp leaving your lips and your hands shooting up to your mouth.

Blinky.

He held out the worn out plushie for you and you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before you reached out to take it.

“Wh—how?”

“It was on my way.”

You pulled your brows together, looking down at the fox plushie before raising your glances again.

“My old apartment, which is in New York,” you said slowly, “was on your way to your home, which is in DC.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a mischievous smile.

“Well okay, it wasn’t,” he admitted. “I just got back to the city, that’s why I texted you at this hour.”

You could feel your heart melting in your chest. “You went all the way to New York to get my childhood plushie back?”

“I still think that counts as a toy,” he pointed out as if it was crucial information. “But you said it was important to you, so…”

Don’t kiss him.

You can’t kiss him. He’s your boss, he has a girlfriend, he does not see you that way, do not kiss him.

“And if anything, I’d been wanting to talk to Max for a while now, so the toy was basically just an excuse.”

“It a plushie—” You changed directions mid-sentence. “What do you mean you talked to Max?”

The look on his face was too innocent. “We just had a conversation, that’s all.”

“About?”

“About him not making anything difficult for you. Or something along those lines.”   

The warmth swirled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel lightheaded as you beamed at him, a giggle climbing your chest.

“Bucky.” You breathed out. “I don’t know what to say...”

“Oh it’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you said. “It’s—it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

That made his head snap up, his eyes searching yours while a proud smile pulled at his lips like your praise meant the world to him. It could’ve been funny if you weren’t trying so hard to control yourself from kissing him; the deadliest assassin in the world, the infamous Bucky Barnes who barely smiled at anyone, who could strike fear in anyone’s hearts with a mere glare, now had the same expression of an excited puppy who was given a treat.

His throat bobbed and he blinked a couple of times like he was trying to pull himself together, then gestured at his motorcycle. “I uh, I should go.”

You were painfully aware that you were pouting. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And hey, I’m sure you’re needed inside too. Can’t have Kelsey choose the wrong guy.”

You huffed out a laugh, hugging a plushie to your stomach and nodded.

“See you tomorrow,” you said quietly and took a couple of steps but then turned around to look at him.

“And…” You cleared your throat, your heart pacing in your chest. “Thank you. It means more than you know.”

His voice was soft: “Good night Birdie.”

He waited until you were in the building to ride away and you pressed a hand over your chest before climbing the stairs to enter your apartment.

“Hey,” Kelsey said. “How did it—is that a plushie?”

“Bucky got you a plushie?” Caleb asked, confusion clear in his tone and you looked down at the plushie, then back at them.

“Guys, we have a problem,” you rasped out, your voice weak even to your own ears. “I think I’m actually falling for him.”

Chapter 9

[asterafroditis]

tumbler user @staplertwst here!

i still don't really know how to write requests or if you have a character limit for requests but uhhh

may i ask for vil, adeuce, and a character of your choice with reader/yuu being a really doting and affectionate and unconditionally sweet person to their friends because they wanted someone like that in their life but never did. they never ask people to reciprocate but they need it sooo bad it's actually really sad??

(if that makes sense :p)

have a swagtastic dayyy

𐔌 . ⋮ bittersweet giving .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Vil, Ace, Deuce, & Trey x gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 995 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, hurt/comfort

Decided with Trey for the fourth character, hopefully this fulfills your request (๑•́ω•̀) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Vil noticed it in the little things first.

The way you remembered others’ routines, how you’d pack extra snacks for your friends just in case they get hungry or give Epel a warm pat on the back when he came out of a difficult etiquette lesson. You weren’t loud or attention-seeking with your affection, but it was everywhere—consistent, thoughtful, always pouring outward.

To him, it was admirable. But one day, in the quiet of a shared afternoon tea, he noticed the cracks.

“You always care so much for others,” he said, watching you gently fold a napkin beside his tea cup, “but who does the same for you?”

Your smile faltered just a little. “That’s not really what matters.”

But it did matter. He saw the hollowness in your eyes when the laughter faded. The way you reached for warmth, not because you expected it, but because you didn’t know what it felt like to be held.

Vil set his teacup down with a soft clink.

“You deserve to be adored too,” he said. “To have someone think of you first. To be held like you're precious—not for how you give, but because you're you.”

You didn’t speak, just blinked rapidly, startled. And then you were in his arms, soft and trembling, finally letting yourself be small. He held you as tightly and as gracefully as he knew how.

“I see you,” Vil whispered. “And from now on, I will love you as fiercely as you’ve loved everyone else.”

─────────────────────────

Ace teased you a lot. That was his love language, after all. But even he couldn’t deny there was something strange about the way you treated others; like you were constantly giving out love as if trying to prove something, and never letting yourself ask for anything back.

He caught you one evening, staying late to help someone with a project that wasn’t yours.

“Y’know, you don’t have to keep playing the guardian angel,” he said with a lazy grin, trying to sound playful. “You could let someone take care of you for once.”

You laughed, but it was weak. “I’m fine. Really.”

Ace didn’t believe you. And later that night, he found you curled up in Ramshackle, reading something quietly, but your eyes weren’t moving across the page. You looked so... alone.

He plopped down beside you, suddenly serious.

“Hey. Look, I suck at this kind of stuff, but—I see how much you do for everyone. How nice you are. And I don’t think it’s fair that no one returns the favor.”

You looked at him with a mix of confusion and pain, like you didn’t expect him to say anything like that. So he added, softly:

“I’ll stick around, okay? Even if you never ask. I’ll stay. ‘Cause you deserve someone who sees how tired you are, not just how sweet.”

And for once, you leaned into someone instead of away. He held your pinky under the table. Didn't let go.

─────────────────────────

You reminded Deuce of his mother—kind, nurturing, endlessly patient. But even his mother had people who loved her back. With you, he noticed, that affection only went one way.

It broke his heart.

You always said things like “don’t worry about me” or “as long as you're okay, I’m happy.” But he noticed the way your smile strained when no one thanked you. When everyone moved on after taking the warmth you gave so freely.

So one day, when you handed him a water bottle after his practice and brushed some dirt off his jacket, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why do you do that?” he asked quietly. “Why do you act like... you don’t need anything?”

You froze. That wasn’t a question people asked.

“Because no one ever gave me anything when I needed it,” you said finally. “So I guess I just got used to... giving. It makes people stay.”

Deuce’s throat tightened. He stepped forward and gently placed his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that with me. I’ll stay, even if you never lift a finger. I care about you for you, not what you do for me.”

You tried to speak, but the tears hit first. Deuce held you close and let you cry. He wiped your cheeks with his sleeves and didn’t leave your side until the tears ran out.

“You’re allowed to need love too.”

─────────────────────────

Trey was the one who noticed how tired you looked after everyone else left. The one who saw how you stayed back to clean, how your voice stayed warm even when your eyes were dull. How you gave everything and accepted crumbs.

He invited you to the kitchen one night after the others had gone, letting you stir the batter while he prepared tea.

“I hope you know,” he said gently, “that you don’t have to keep earning your place here.”

You blinked, startled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, turning to face you, “that you’re always showing up for others. Always being kind. But I don’t think anyone’s ever really shown up for you. And that’s not fair.”

Your hand shook slightly. You looked down. “I guess... I just want to be wanted. Even if it’s just for how I make others feel.”

Trey quietly took the bowl from your hands and placed it aside. Then he took your hands in his—floury, warm, grounding.

“I want you. Even if you were cold, or messy, or forgot to smile. I’d still be here. Not because you’ve earned it. But because you deserve it.”

You broke down in his arms, and he held you with a tenderness that needed no words. That night, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone.

[neeeooon]

hello!! I just wanted to say I love your writing and I loved the unofficial hype squad fic soooooo much >< I had a very specific req for a fic. I was thinking how would the bllk boys react if they heard us speaking another language(bilingual reader) (also maybe hindi cause I'm Indian but if you want to do any other language it's fine). It would be even better if they weren't aware that we were not japanese/other nationality. I don't rlly have a specific set of charas but if you include rin that would be great!! Lots of love and have a good day🫶🏻

thank you sm!!! and thank you for the request 🫶 i’m not bilingual, so if there are any inaccuracies, i’m sorry!! have a good day as well 💛

when they don’t know you’re bilingual

bf bllk x bilingual!reader

itoshi rin

-> an authentic indian restaurant opened in your town, which was practically unheard of. considering how small your town was, you only ever saw traditional japanese and maybe a fusion place pop up every now and again

-> you were the first person in line for the grand opening, practically dragging rin behind you as you rushed for the seats with the best lighting

-> “wow!” you gasped at all of the familiar artwork. your father did a lot of work in india when you were a child, so you attended most of your elementary school years there

-> when the waitress appeared, you ordered in perfect hindi. her eyes sparkled, entire face lighting up. “no way! you speak hindi!” “my dad worked in india when i was young!” she beamed at you. “your accent is amazing!”

-> meanwhile, your pouty boyfriend sulked, feeling extremely left out. he knew you spent a few years in india, but he didn’t know you still spoke the language

-> with your orders finally placed and the waitress’s number now in your phone, rin narrowed his eyes at you. “you never mentioned you speak another language.” “well, i spent several years there. what did you expect?” “i don’t know. i never really thought about it.” “cutie.”

bachira meguru

-> bachira knew your mom spoke english, but he thought it was only for her work. he didn’t realize that she was a full-blooded european, making you half-european and bilingual

-> he was struggling with his english pronunciation and asked you if your mom would tutor him, to which you raised a brow and asked, “you do know i’m fluent in english, too, right?”

-> bachira stares at you. you stare back at him. he slowly slides his days of the week homework assignment over to you. “fly-day?”

-> you spent the next few days teaching bachira about the english accent and showing him how to introduce himself. most importantly, you taught him how to ask where the restroom is

-> when he received an a on his assignment, bachira made you promise to never speak english when talking about the days of the week ever again. wednesday ptsd is real

karasu tabito

-> he’s got a thing for intelligent sounding people. when you take a call with him in the room, speaking in fluent french, his eyes turn into hearts

-> “i didn’t know you speak french,” he mentioned when you returned and plopped into his lap. you laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “i was born in the city of love, baby.”

-> though he doesn’t really understand, karasu likes it when you speak french to him. even if you’re saying random words like “raspberry” or “twenty-one” he’s head over heels

-> “is french your first language?” he asked, and you giggled at how intrigued your boyfriend was at this newfound discovery. “i swear i mentioned it before. i have a french name and everything,” “you have another name?! you must be a secret agent or something.”

[i-dared-myself]

Useless

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: Hi, my love!! How are you? May I please request an ot8 stray kids x 9th member!reader (I love the ones you already made so much!!!) in which she gets in an argument with one of the members and the others take said member's side? Then maybe it could be angst + comfort because she feels hurt and betrayed that they wouldn't listen to her. She tries acting like everything is fine, but she's sort of unconsciously distancing herself because being around them still hurts. And the boys desperately try to make amends. I hope this isn't too much and that it's understandable 😭 English isn't my first language. Ily take care!!

Just as a heads up, reader has some thoughts debating how needed she really is. Nothing too intense, and nothing happens from it, but heads up regardless.

Everyone has defined parts in the group,” the interviewer says. She holds the microphone up to your mouth. “Anything to say about that?”

“Everyone is really talented.” You ignore the flashing of cameras and the crowd calling your name. “Bang Chan is such a great leader and we’re so lucky to have him.”

“And the others?” she presses. 

“Oh, well, Han and Changbin are great rappers. We’re lucky to have them with us. Not to mention that Seungmin and Lee Know’s vocals are amazing.” You look past the interviewer to see Chan and Jisung watching you carefully. 

You were great with reporters and very level-headed, but incidents happened. Plus, they just like to support the other members. 

“Hyunjin is so good at dancing, as are Felix and-“

“And you?” she prompts. She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips slightly. “What do you bring to the group?”

You hesitate. “Pardon?”

“All of the categories are pretty well covered by the others. What do you do?”

Your mouth goes dry. You hadn’t thought of this before.

What did you do?

You weren’t the best rapper. You couldn’t hit the high notes like the others. You stumbled sometimes in dances.

“Uh…” You smooth your hands down the dress you are in. “I’m a good mix of everything. I balance out the group well.”

“But… Isn’t that useless?” 

“I- I guess so.” Your voice cracks and you swallow the lump in your throat down.

Chan steps in front of you with his signature time to fix this smile. “Hello, everyone!”

The crowd surges forward and the cameras flash faster and brighter. People are screaming out questions now, and he pointedly ignores them all.

“Our lovely member here,” Chan says, “doesn’t have to be special.”

What?

“She’s just herself.” Chan smiles down at you, unaware of the turmoil rolling through you. 

You force a smile and hope it’s as natural-looking as his. 

“We need to go for practise,” Chan tells you, loud enough for others to hear. It’s an obvious exit strategy. Security comes to clear a crowd, and Chan walks by your side through it.

His words echoed through your head. Did he really think that little of you? Were you nothing more than just another body?

You climb into the van, popping your ear buds into your ears. You press play on your music and tune the others out. They jostle each other and finally someone falls into you.

“Sorry.” Felix laughs as he turns around to poke Hyunjin’s cheek.

You hum and scroll through your feed. Everything is about how you’re useless. People are posting about how even Chan doesn’t want you around.

Jisung mumbles something to you that you don’t catch. You remove your ear buds to hear him ask, “You good?”

“Yes,” you curtly say. You turn your phone off and place it in your lap.

“Are you sure?” Jeongin cuts in, forehead creased with concern. He reaches out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it off.

“Just leave it, okay?” you snap. You lean away from him and to the window you’re next to. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t seem fine.” Chan’s expression is concerned, but he hides it quickly. “Come on, maybe I can fix it.”

“Maybe you can’t,” you sharply say. “Maybe you’re not as great a leader as you think you are.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’m that great of a leader.” Chan chuckles lightly, but it’s a choked sound. “And does that have something to do with this?”

“No.” You move to return to your music, but Minho wraps his hand around your wrist.

“Seriously, what’s up?” Minho applies gentle pressure, but not enough to hurt. “Tell us before we have to force it out of you.”

“Not by torture,” Jisung clarifies. He frowns at Minho. “I’m pretty sure, at least.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin raises his phone screen for the others. “I think it’s this.”

The all read some of the comments on the video he had found before facing you. Seungmin is the first to speak.

“He’s not wrong. Chan told the truth.” 

You tug the dress down to cover more of your legs. “What?”

“You’re special because you’re you.” Felix pats Chan’s back and gives you a disapproving look. “You didn’t have to hurt his feelings like this. You’re overreacting to just a couple of people.”

“Just a couple?” you rasp. You cough to clear your throat. “Everyone’s demanding that I leave the group now!”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Changbin scoffs as he crosses his arms. “Chan was trying to help.”

“But he didn’t!” You wrench yourself from Minho’s grip and end up hitting your head on the side of the van. You bite down the cry that threatens to escape.

“Are you okay?” Chan unbuckles himself and shoots across the vehicle. He wobbles in place before cupping your face. “Oh my- Does she have a concussion?”

“No, she’s fine.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “This is why you’re a good leader. You worry about nothing.”

Chan sighs and settles back in his seat, stretching the belt across his body before clipping it in. “I guess you’re right.”

You rub the tears off your face. “I think I’m gonna skip movie night. I- I wanna practise for the comeback.”

You don’t want there to be any mistakes that could be picked out.

Jeongin suddenly gasps. “Oh! We should watch that new action movie! It has that actor we like! The funny one!” 

“It got good reviews.” Seungmin glances around the others, taking in their faces. “I like the idea.”

You wanted to see it, but it was fine. You could wait to watch it later.

“Have fun,” Jisung cheerily says as you’re dropped off at the studio. Minho slides the door shut before you can respond.

You run through all the routines about ten times each before taking a break. You debate it for a moment before picking your phone up and scrolling.

Everyone has been clipping your mistakes and compiling videos comparing you to the other members. All Stays alike have united to declare you the most useless member- even those with different biases.

Actually, when had you ever heard someone say you were their bias? Others heard it all the time, yet those words had never met your ears.

Did everyone hate you? How long had this been going on?

And maybe you cry as you think about it, but that’s between you and the empty building. 

So you pick yourself up and you to make yourself better. If Hyunjin can nail these dances, so can you. If Minho can radiate confidence, so can you.

Even if no one cares enough to notice it.

It’s difficult to master, but you eventually can run through it smoothly without fumbling. You’re proud of yourself, enough so that you shut the music off and curl up in the corner. You flick your phone on to see Felix is live.

“What do I think about what Chan said today?” Felix pauses to consider it, tilting his head. Strands of hair flop into his head. “I think words just were misinterpreted.”

You set the phone down and lay on your stanch to watch. You want to see where he goes with this.

“What he meant is that she doesn’t have to be able to bend her elbows backwards or something to be special. She’s just great the way she is.” Felix taps his chin. “Honestly, what I think makes her such an awesome member is that she’s here to support us at all times.”

You watch as his freckles scrunch up as he grins.

“She puts so much effort into making sure that we’re doing well, that we just do better.” Felix reads the comments before humming.

People are all talking about you. They’re bringing up moments where you’ve cared for the others. Like when you reminded Chan to get sleep. When you went out of your way to speak English with Felix. That time you surprised Jisung with merch after his favourite anime character died.

“I remember this one time I was really nervous, and she-“ Felix cuts himself off, the colour draining from his face. He rushes through his goodbyes before the live ends, and you’re left confused.

What just happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, guys!” Felix exclaims as he bursts into the living room. “She’s out at the studio by herself!”

“Yeah, and?” Seungmin props himself up on the couch. “She said she wanted to practise.”

“It’s almost midnight!” Felix hisses, gesturing out the window. “She’s all by herself! What if she walked home and got kidnapped and there’s a ransom-“

“She’ll just phone if she needs someone to pick her up,” Jeongin casually says. He hangs his head off the couch so his hair dangles.

“Except she thinks we’re mad at her!” Changbin snaps to attention and jumps to his feet. “Minho! Call her!”

Minho stops whatever it was he was doing on his phone and brings up your contact. He presses the dial button and it rings twice before you pick up.

“Hello?” Your voice meets their ears when he switches it to speaker. 

“Where are you?” Chan demands. He scrubs his hands over his face.

“At the studio?” 

Everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“Anyways, I’m about to head home…”

“Nuh-uh! We’ll come get you!” Hyunjin grabs his keys and chucks them at Chan. It bounces off his chest due to him not paying attention. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” You sound tired and weary and Felix is filled with guilt. “I’ll just order a car to pick me up. I have a mask and everything. And it’s not like I’m special enough for anyone to recognize me.”

Jisung winces. “You sure?”

“Yup,” you say before ending the call. It beeps before Minho turns it off.

“What did I do?” Chan groans. He sinks onto the couch. “This is all my fault!”

“No, we were the ones who made it worse,” Changbin says firmly. “We’ll deal with this together.”

They sit in silence, occasionally murmuring an idea on how to get you to forgive them. All of them seem measly and not enough.

Then you walk through the door, still in your outfit from the press meeting. Your skin is slick with sweat and you have no jacket.

“It’s cold out!” Chan immediately says before he can stop himself. “You’ll get a cold and- and-“

“Shut up,” Minho mutters to him.

“How did it go?” Hyunjin warily asks. They all scrutinize your expression.

“Good.” You discard your mask before looking up at them all. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“We appreciate you,” Jeongin blurts out. “You’re amazing and great and-“

“You don’t have to say that.” You walk around the group and to the stairs, going up without another word. They hear the water start up before bursting into conversation.

Various insults and accusations are being thrown around until Chan stands up.

“Enough!” He spreads his arms and glowers at them all. They shut up instantly as he radiates leader-mode energy. “We need to deal with this before it blows out of hand!”

“What if we all tell her something we like about her?” Jisung suggests.

Seungmin scowls. “That’s nice and all, but we’re going to run out of ideas since there’s eight of us.”

“So you’re saying you can’t think of at least eight nice things about her?” Hyunjin scoffs and shakes his head.

“No, I’m saying that someone is going to panic and say her ass.” Seungmin stretches out on the couch. 

Felix flicks his forehead. “Maybe just don’t think about her ass then.”

“I don’t! But someone,” Seungmin shoots a pointed look at Jisung, “struggles with intrusive thoughts.”

“I can control them,” Jisung weakly says.

“Let’s just scratch that idea.” Chan pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Whats another idea?”

“What about candy?” Jeongin snaps his fingers. “Bribing works!”

“She’s emotionally hurt, not a child who just got a shot,” Minho scolds. He slowly turns to stare at the stairs. “What if…”

“I don’t like that look.” Changbin narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Remember that song she likes and tried to teach us the dance to?” Minho arches an eyebrow as the tips of his ears turn red.

Felix buries his face in his hands. “Not that!”

“I will not degrade myself for her,” Hyunjin announces. “No way am I humiliating myself for-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We have a surprise for you!” Chan declares once you step out of your room. Your hair is still damp as you adjust the hem of your pyjamas.

“What?” You lean against the doorframe.

“First of all, we’re so sorry for-“ Chan begins.

You hold up a hand. “I forgive you. I’m just a little mad, but it’s better than before. Felix’s live helped clear some stuff up.” 

“Jisung.” Chan nods to the man, who presses his phone. Music starts playing, and your eyes widen.

“You guys did this for me?” You gasp and cover your mouth as Beyoncé starts blasting.

They don’t respond, too concentrated on the ‘Single Ladies’ dance. You watch in giddy delight as they go through the movements.

When they finish, you clap as loudly as you can.

“You’re forgiven,” you say. You brandish a finger at them threateningly. “But don’t do anything like this again. Or else.”

You walk away, hearing them whisper about what it is your vengeance could possibly consist of.

@captainchrisstan

[marsmaximoff]

🏛️ emperor caracalla ; headcanons ⋆₊𐕣˚𖤐 ݁｡☽

content warning: fem!reader. mentions of blood, killing and sickness, cheating, possessiveness, toxicity. idk if there’s anything else.

word count: 0.7k

author’s note: first time writing headcanons, so constructive criticism is welcomed. and english is my third language so please bear with me. i apologize for any mistake 🙏🏻 also, i’m unlocking a new obsession, so i needed to write for caracalla asap. i’m gonna write for other fred characters too because that man has me down bad. that’s it! enjoyyy! <3

emperor caracalla is a menace with an insane duality and you know that better than anyone

we have 1) mad ruler with an insatiable thirst for blood

you ALWAYS go to the games

he demands wants you there with him

(not like you have much choice being married to him)

but still, he loves to know you’re there. mostly because he actually enjoys sharing his passion and spending time with you. buuut, also because he REALLY likes to show you off. (you love seeing him all giggly clapping and yelling tho)

and let me tell you, he takes every opportunity to do so. to remind everyone that you’re his. and to brag in front of his pretty much unmarried brother.

i’m talking hand rubbing your thigh when sitting by his side (he does it absentmindedly, it’s genuinely cute), arm around your waist during feasts, sitting on his lap when watching combats, theatre or any sort of entertainment and a ton of PDA.

both of them are possessive, but he is more subtle, not as straightforward

regarding Geta, you two have an… odd relationship. he’s thankful there’s someone else to deal with his brother’s madness. but he’s suspicious of your intentions. tho jealous.

some would even say not only of the marriage itself…

caracalla knows, and absolutely feeds on it. he finally has something that belongs to him and only him

god forbid someone doesn’t get it

Dondus has grown to adore you. you’re like his other parent -he’s adopted you as such.

squeaks at you and happily climbs your arm to rest on your shoulder

loves using your braids as little ladders

and snuggling against your neck too

he’s just so cute can u tell i love him :3

anyways

and 2) sappy child

he follows you around like a puppy

you hate it when he gets overwhelmed, he tends to hide and isolate himself

you end up acting like his mother

gets insecure of his real face and keeps it from you

needs a lot of reassurance

the guards always look for you when he has an outburst

your touch and presence are the only things that ground him

LOVES LOVES LOVES cuddling

clings to you like he needs you to breathe

good luck waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom 💀

play with his hair and he’s GONE

big on pet names

to you is always “my love” “my dear” “my darling” “my wife” “my empress”

emphasis on the “my”

everything’s fine with him but “sweet boy” makes him melt

and obviously “my emperor” cause it makes him feel powerful

and compliments too

spoils and pampers the shit out of you

jewels, clothes, animals, entertainers, you name it

absolutely whipped

loves kissing

now, it can’t all be a fairytale 😞

sometimes you feel like he loves Dondus more than you

and it seems that some men being forced to kill each other brings him more happiness than you ever could

he can switch from sad to angry in a matter of seconds and sometimes his sudden change of tone and expressions startles you

🚩 🚩🚩

being married to a sick man is hard

many palace servants and guards feel bad for you

paranoid

thinks you don’t love him anymore and are going to leave him quite often

obsessive

if you say something that feels ‘off’ to him get ready for an intense interrogation

possessive and extremely jealous

cause why the fuck where you laughing with some random man?

he’d threaten to kill him and would probably get rough with you

hates other people touching you

gets violent

has hurt you before during one of his fits

regrets it afterwards but has a hard time apologizing

would probably be unfaithful. i know, i hate it too 🥲

over all i think he wouldn’t be that bad of a husband, like it could be way worse

and i say he could genuinely love you, it just wouldn’t be the healthiest of loves

but you can try to fix him girl ✨✨

[7s3ven]

Guys, I’m going feral over thinking about deer hybrid! Reader x Philip Graves. Might make this into a series if I’m bothered LOL. I like the idea.

Imagine in this au, hybrids are rare. Especially you who looks entirely human save for the white and brown freckles adorning your skin and the gentle doe ears that flick occasionally.

You were a tagged hybrid, slang for a hybrid in danger of becoming nothing more than a test subject. You were prized for your unique blend of both human and animal characteristics. However, the company holding you captive forgot one thing. You were still part animal and it was in your instincts to run.

You met Graves after you collapsed on the road while sprinting away from the laboratory, your keen ears picking up the shouts coming from the guards.

You thought yourself as lucky that a car had been passing through the area when you fell. “What is it?” Someone exited the vehicle followed by another.

“It’s a hybrid… a deer one. I think. Can’t really tell.”

“It’s clearly a deer. What else would it be? A bird?”

They bickered amongst themselves before one had the initiative to pull out a walkie talkie. “Boss, we’ve encountered a hybrid on the road. Not sure how old she is, maybe late twenties? She’s a deer hybrid, has a few wounds, and she’s tagged. Your orders? Over.”

The pair waited half a beat before there was a response.

“Why would I want a hybrid?”

“She’s one of the valuable ones, sir. Maybe she can be useful. She was running quite fast before she blacked out. Doubt she’s been fed so to run at that speed on an empty stomach is impressive.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine, bring her in.”

You didn’t officially meet Graves until a week later when he finally paid you a visit.

He watched in concealed awe at the way you gracefully moved, even when you were confined to a bed. You stared up at him, your soft doe eyes burning holes. He found you strangely captivating and it was in that moment he realized you could be useful after all.

Your aim with a gun was surprisingly good. If Graves was going to keep you, he needed you to be capable of protecting yourself. He spent at least a few hours each day just watching you fire a round of shots. His presence was no longer required but you seemed to enjoy his company.

Apart from Graves and the two Shadows who picked you up off the road, you didn’t speak to anyone else. You were shy to the point where sometimes, you didn’t even utter a word to Graves.

Within months, it became apparent as to where your loyalties lay. You answered to Graves and him alone. To you, his words was the law. If a command did not come from Graves, you did not follow it.

Some people found it annoying… but Graves adored it.

You followed Philip Graves everywhere he went, which also meant you tagged along on his shared mission with the Mexican Special Forces Operator and Task Force 141.

BONUS

You were his personal sniper, a gun gifted by Graves strapped to your back.

“Who’s the pretty lass?” A Scottish man asked as you trailed behind Graves. He gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

Graves barely spared him a look. “My sniper.” He cockily answered, an undeniable smugness to his sharp words. “You don’t need to know her name.”

There were questioning looks exchanged between the teammates before Graves clicked his fingers, effortlessly gaining your attention. He leaned down, fully aware of the eyes following his every move.

“Doe.” He uttered the pet name you were accustomed to. Then he spoke in a foreign language, one only you could understand. Then he pointed at a tree nearby. You didn’t need any further instructions as you stepped forward, grasping your rifle. The others watched with raised brows, patiently waiting for something to happen.

There was a loud bang as you pressed the sensitive trigger of your gun. The bullet flew through the air, hitting the tree with pinpoint accuracy. You fired three more shots, hitting the exact same spot and drilling a hole into the trunk.

With practised ease, you lowered the gun. You heard Graves chuckle before he spoke. “Trained her myself.” He beckoned you back to his side and you obeyed without another thought.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as an act of dominance to the others. “She listens to my commands and mine only so don’t think for a second that her loyalties will change.”

Graves reached out to grasp your necklace, showing it to the whole group. It was a heart with his name engraved on it. “She belongs to me and if any of you muppets even look at her funny, it won’t end well for you.”

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

-

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

-

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

-

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

-

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

-

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.