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mcrdvcks · 6 days ago

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electric touch

summary: You technically aren't a member of the New Avengers, but you live at the Watchtower and help the team out during missions. The most interesting part? Bucky seems to have a crush on you, the quiet, brooding, mysterious woman. word count: 13.9k+ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader notes: one of my fav tropes i've seen with thunderbolts!bucky is the secret wife trope, so here's my take on it :) this is also only my second time writing for bucky, and my first time writing smut for him, so let me know if it's accurate! warnings/tags: takes place after thunderbolts*, bamf!reader, grumpy x grumpy (but really bucky is kinda sunshine?), secret relationship/marriage, reader is "brooding" and "cold", bucky is a lover boy, smut, slight sub!bucky, slight dom!reader, unprotected piv, creampie, light violence, mention of injury

The Watchtower had been quiet for exactly six minutes when John's voice shattered the peace. "He's doing it again."

Yelena sighed dramatically, not looking up from her phone. "Who’s doing what again?"

John jerked his chin toward the kitchen counter, where Bucky leaned casually, arms crossed. His eyes were fixed across the common area, following you as you silently poured a mug of coffee.

Ava glanced up from the couch, eyes rolling. "Oh. Barnes."

"Again?" Alexei chuckled from his seat next to Yelena, slapping the table enthusiastically. "He’s staring like sad puppy, no? Maybe we throw him a bone?"

Yelena finally glanced up, smirking. "Careful, Dad. Barnes has super hearing. He might overhear your plans."

Alexei scoffed, shrugging his massive shoulders. "So he hears. I say it to his face: Barnes, ask the scary one out already."

Bucky turned slightly, arching a brow. "I’m good, thanks."

"No, clearly you are not," Alexei persisted, enjoying himself. "All this mooning and sighing and staring. Pathetic."

"I’m not mooning."

John snorted. "You’re definitely mooning."

Bucky glared halfheartedly, shifting uncomfortably as you moved past them silently, mug in hand, offering nothing but a faint nod. Once you vanished back down the hall, the conversation reignited in earnest.

Bob glanced up from his seat nearby, his brow pinched slightly in mild confusion. "Wait—so Bucky likes Y/N?"

"Thank you, Bob," Ava murmured dryly. "Keep up."

"But…" Bob tilted his head thoughtfully. "Has he even tried talking to her?"

Yelena smirked at Bucky. "Yeah, Bucky, have you even tried talking?"

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, fighting a smile. "I talk plenty."

Ava laughed softly. "You stare plenty. Talking, not so much."

"Just ask her out," John said, crossing his arms smugly. "Worst she could do is ignore you—like she already does."

The team burst into laughter. Even Bob managed a shy chuckle. Bucky shook his head, smiling faintly as he turned toward the hallway you'd taken moments before.

"Maybe," he muttered dryly, setting down his empty coffee cup. "Someday."

"Maybe someday," Alexei echoed dramatically. "This is tragedy."

Bucky ignored the loud chatter behind him, wandering slowly toward your shared quarters at the far end of the hall.

---

Inside your quiet room, you sat cross-legged on the bed, reading calmly. You didn’t look up when he closed the door behind him.

"Your teammates are idiots," you murmured, turning a page.

Bucky smiled softly, eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. He walked toward you, sinking easily onto the bed beside you, immediately leaning his head onto your shoulder. "They just think you're intimidating."

"I am intimidating."

"Yes, sweetheart." He tilted his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. "Terrifying."

You hummed quietly, setting your book aside as his metal fingers gently traced over your wrist. You shifted, finally looking directly at him, raising a brow. "They also think you're pining hopelessly."

Bucky laughed, rich and genuine, nudging your shoulder affectionately. "Who says I'm not?"

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth curved upwards faintly. "James."

He smiled, teasing gently, eyes bright. "What?"

You sighed, feigning irritation, but the softness in your gaze betrayed you. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," he agreed easily, leaning closer, lips brushing tenderly along your jawline. "But I'm yours."

You huffed softly, fingers sliding gently into his hair, pulling him closer until your lips met, warm and familiar and private.

"Unfortunately," you teased softly as you parted, foreheads resting together.

He smiled brightly, utterly content. "Someday we should tell them."

"Eventually," you conceded dryly, settling back against his chest comfortably. "But would you really take away my only source of entertainment?"

Bucky chuckled quietly, his fingers brushing lightly along your shoulder. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

You hummed, eyes falling shut as you relaxed against him, the quiet settling around you both.

"I still think we should at least tell Yelena," he mused after a moment. "She’s pretty sharp. Might figure it out on her own."

You scoffed softly. "Please. She thinks you’re pining after me. Clearly, her observational skills aren’t that impressive."

Bucky laughed, pressing another quick kiss against your temple. "Harsh."

"True," you corrected.

He smiled against your skin, his metal arm tightening around you slightly. "Fair enough."

The comfortable silence stretched between you, only broken by your quiet breathing and the distant laughter of the team down the hall. After a moment, you turned slightly, glancing at him with a faint smirk.

"Barnes," you said, voice dry and amused. "Were you really mooning?"

He tilted his head back, groaning dramatically. "Not you too."

You shrugged casually, barely hiding your smile. "I'm just confirming. For clarity."

"Well, I wasn’t," he insisted, eyes sparkling. "I was just... observing."

"Right," you drawled. "Observing."

"Exactly," he nodded solemnly, biting back a smile. "Observing my scary, intimidating, secretly soft-hearted wife."

"Don’t push it," you warned, poking his chest gently. "I’ve got a reputation to uphold."

"Trust me, sweetheart," Bucky teased, voice warm and gentle, "no one's doubting your reputation."

You huffed again, leaning up to kiss him softly, muttering against his lips, "You're lucky you're cute."

"I know," he grinned brightly, eyes crinkling as he drew you closer again. "Very lucky."

You rolled your eyes, hiding your smile against his chest as the comfortable silence returned, content to enjoy each other’s company without interruptions.

---

Two days later, you wandered into the common area, pausing briefly as you spotted the team huddled around the TV, eyes glued to the screen. "What's this?" you asked dryly.

"Movie night," Ava replied, glancing back at you. "Join us?"

You shook your head slightly, making your way toward the kitchen. "I'll pass."

Yelena smirked, not taking her eyes off the TV. "Shocking."

Bucky looked up, catching your gaze. "C’mon, doll. Stay for a little bit."

You paused, arching an eyebrow pointedly at him. "Why would I?"

He shrugged innocently, leaning back into the couch. "For the pleasure of our charming company?"

John snorted. "Real subtle, Barnes."

Alexei chuckled, tossing popcorn into his mouth. "He tries."

You ignored them, continuing your path to the coffee machine. You barely managed to pour yourself a cup before you heard Bucky's quiet footsteps approaching. He leaned casually against the counter beside you, arms folded, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Nice pajamas," he teased quietly, glancing at your oversized sweatshirt and leggings.

"Keep it up," you muttered dryly. "See if you ever get to borrow them again."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly closer, voice low and warm. "We’re overdue for date night."

You sipped your coffee, glancing at him sideways. "You’re getting needy."

"Maybe," he admitted shamelessly, nudging you gently. "But I prefer 'romantic.'"

"Gross."

"You love it," he murmured warmly.

"Unfortunately," you agreed softly, finally turning toward him. "Fine. Date night. But I'm picking."

"As long as it’s not another stakeout, sweetheart."

"No promises," you teased, sipping your coffee again as you turned away. "Now go watch your movie."

He chuckled, shaking his head fondly as you disappeared down the hallway. When he turned back toward the couch, he found the entire team staring at him, various expressions of disbelief on their faces. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

Alexei pointed at him accusingly. "You talked. Actual conversation."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "She didn't stab you."

Yelena shook her head, smiling slightly. "Barnes, you might actually have a chance."

"Yeah, maybe in twenty years," John snorted.

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, settling back onto the couch comfortably. "Told you—I talk plenty."

Bob nodded slowly, genuinely impressed. "Good job, Bucky."

"Thanks, Bob." Bucky smiled, eyes flicking briefly toward the hall. "I'm working on it."

---

The following evening, you leaned quietly against the wall, watching with mild interest as Bucky sparred against John on the training mats. The rest of the team lingered around the room, half-training, half-observing the two men in action.

Alexei crossed his arms, grinning broadly. "Come on, Barnes! Use metal arm—show Walker who's boss."

"He's trying to train," Yelena drawled from beside you. "Not murder our teammate."

Alexei shrugged, unconvinced. "Little murder builds character."

You didn't react outwardly, but your lips twitched slightly in amusement.

Across the mats, John ducked away from Bucky’s fist, panting slightly. "You holding back, Barnes?"

Bucky smirked, circling him easily. "Just going easy on you."

John scoffed. "Bullshit. You’re distracted."

"Distracted?" Bucky echoed mildly, his eyes briefly flicking in your direction.

John followed his gaze knowingly, smirking. "Yeah. Distracted."

Bucky sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders as he pretended to think. "Right. Got my mind on other things."

"Or other people," Ava muttered dryly from the punching bag.

Yelena smirked, elbowing you gently. "Look at that. Bucky still pining away."

You kept your expression neutral, voice flat. "Tragic."

On the mat, Bucky caught John's fist in his metal hand, twisting lightly. "Ready to yield yet?"

John grumbled, pulling his hand free. "Fine, fine. Jesus."

Bucky chuckled, stepping back easily, eyes sliding again to you. "Who's next?"

Yelena nudged you lightly. "Why not you, Y/N? Barnes clearly wants your attention."

You exhaled slowly, stepping away from the wall toward the mat. "Fine."

The team fell into immediate silence as you moved toward Bucky, standing opposite him calmly. He raised an eyebrow, his mouth curved into a teasing grin. "Careful, doll. I bruise easily."

"You’ll live," you muttered, stretching your arms briefly.

John backed off the mats, smirking. "This oughta be good."

Bucky circled you slowly, voice low enough only you could hear. "You gonna let me win?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good," he murmured, lunging forward easily, eyes bright with amusement.

You sidestepped him effortlessly, landing a swift blow to his ribs. Bucky laughed softly, twisting away, clearly enjoying himself.

"Think they're flirting?" Alexei loudly whispered to Yelena.

"If by flirting you mean trying to kill each other," Ava remarked dryly, "then yes."

Bucky caught your wrist gently, pulling you slightly toward him. "Having fun yet?"

You rolled your eyes slightly, easily slipping your wrist from his grip. "Always."

"Good," he chuckled, stepping closer, voice dropping softer. "Me too."

"You’re ridiculous," you murmured quietly.

"I know," he agreed cheerfully, just before you swept his leg neatly, sending him sprawling onto the mats with a loud thud.

The team collectively winced.

Bucky blinked up at you, laughing as you offered him your hand to pull him up. "Had enough?" you asked calmly.

He took your hand, pulling himself smoothly to his feet, voice warm and teasing as he leaned close. "Not even close."

"Gross," John muttered.

"Agreed," Ava smirked, returning her attention to her training bag.

Bucky stepped back reluctantly, smiling easily as he rubbed his ribs. "Thanks for the match, doll."

You rolled your eyes, hiding your faint smile. “Just to be clear, I’m still waiting for date night. This doesn’t count.”

Bucky chuckled quietly, running a hand through his slightly mussed hair. “Fair enough. Tomorrow?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Demanding, Barnes.”

He smirked softly. “Consider it enthusiastic.”

“Same difference,” you muttered dryly, turning away. “Tomorrow works.”

You started back toward the edge of the mats, ignoring the curious looks from the team. Ava raised an eyebrow as you passed her.

“You okay, Barnes?” John called out teasingly. “Your ego survive that?”

Bucky snorted, dusting himself off easily. “Think I'll recover.”

Alexei shook his head, looking impressed. “She is formidable opponent. Why you not recruit her officially, Yelena?”

Yelena shrugged lightly, glancing toward you. “Because I value my life.”

Bob smiled faintly, watching Bucky closely. “You sure you’re okay, Bucky?”

Bucky waved him off casually, smirking. ��Don’t worry about me, Bob. I've handled worse.”

“You’re sure?” Bob asked again, earnest concern in his voice. “She’s pretty tough.”

Bucky laughed warmly, eyes briefly flicking toward you as you leaned against the wall again. “Trust me—I noticed.”

“Clearly,” John snickered, elbowing Ava gently. “Look at that face. Pure puppy dog.”

Ava rolled her eyes fondly. “Careful, Walker, or he might actually kill you.”

“I might,” Bucky agreed, eyes playful as he reached for a towel, wiping his face casually.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Bob wondered quietly, looking genuinely puzzled again.

“Yeah,” Yelena echoed dryly. “Why don’t you, Barnes?”

Bucky sighed dramatically, shaking his head in mock despair. “I told you—I’m working on it.”

You watched quietly from your spot against the wall, expression neutral, coffee mug clasped in your hands. Bucky’s gaze caught yours briefly, warmth flickering across his eyes for just a moment before he turned away.

Yelena sighed dramatically, standing and stretching her arms lazily over her head. “Tragic,” she said flatly. “Come on, let’s wrap up. Alexei promised pizza.”

Alexei beamed proudly. “Extra pineapple for Bob!”

“I don’t actually like pineapple—” Bob started softly, then sighed and smiled. “Never mind.”

John clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “You’ll learn, Bob.”

The team slowly started to file out of the training room, chatting loudly amongst themselves. Bucky lingered behind, waiting until the others had vanished before moving quietly toward you.

“Pizza?” he asked quietly, nudging your shoulder gently.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Fine.”

He smiled warmly, leaning closer and murmuring quietly. “You’re secretly excited, admit it.”

You snorted softly, hiding a faint smile behind your mug. “Don’t push it.”

Bucky’s smile widened into a grin as he straightened again, falling easily into step beside you. “Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

“Good,” you muttered dryly, sipping your coffee. “Wouldn’t want to have to hurt you again.”

He laughed warmly, eyes bright with affection as you moved quietly toward the elevator. “You love me too much to hurt me.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping into the elevator beside him, voice calm and casual. “Don’t be so sure.”

He smiled softly, watching you from the corner of his eye, quiet amusement lingering between you both. The elevator doors slid shut quietly, enclosing you both in comfortable silence.

---

You stepped quietly into the common area, where the team had already settled around the table, chatting loudly. Bob smiled at you shyly as he moved over to make space.

Alexei waved enthusiastically. "Y/N! You join us, excellent! Come, come, sit!"

You sank smoothly into the chair next to Bob, giving a faint nod. Across from you, Bucky's eyes lifted briefly, lingering on you with mild curiosity. You met his gaze evenly, then casually unzipped your half-zip pullover just a little bit further, revealing the faintest glimpse of delicate white lace beneath.

Bucky's eyes flicked immediately downward, then shot quickly back up to yours, clearly startled. He shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat softly.

"Alright there, Barnes?" John asked casually, reaching for a slice.

"Yeah," Bucky murmured, forcing his gaze down to the pizza. "Fine."

You ate quietly, barely participating in conversation but very aware of Bucky's occasional discreet glances your way. Every subtle movement you made—reaching for a napkin, shifting slightly—gave him brief but intentional glimpses of lace against your skin.

Bucky swallowed hard, eyes narrowing slightly each time he caught sight of you, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

"You’re quiet tonight, Y/N," Ava commented casually, glancing over at you.

"She is always quiet," Alexei scoffed, grinning broadly. "Like silent assassin, no?"

You shrugged slightly, voice low. "Just tired."

"Or plotting," John muttered teasingly.

"Possibly," you agreed blandly, ignoring Bucky's slightly tense posture. After a few more minutes, you rose smoothly from your chair, setting your napkin down quietly. "I'm turning in."

"So soon?" Alexei called, looking disappointed. "Night still young!"

"Goodnight," you replied dryly, heading quietly toward the hallway.

You felt Bucky’s gaze on your back, heavy and heated. You barely made it halfway to the bedroom when you heard his chair scrape back, followed closely by Alexei's loud chuckle and John's amused muttering.

You entered the room first, stepping calmly inside, hearing the door click shut quietly behind Bucky a few moments later. You glanced back at him casually, watching as he leaned heavily against the door, eyes dark.

"You really enjoy torturing me, don't you?" he murmured dryly, his voice low and rough.

You tilted your head slightly, feigning confusion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He stepped toward you slowly, expression skeptical. "Really?"

You arched an eyebrow innocently. "Problem?"

"Yeah," he muttered softly, his eyes trailing slowly downward, lingering pointedly on the now-visible lace beneath your shirt. "That’s a problem."

You shrugged casually, turning away from him and starting to pull off your pullover, leaving you standing comfortably in leggings and your white lace bra. "Just a bra, Barnes."

He huffed softly, moving closer until he stood right behind you, hands gently settling on your hips. "It’s more than just a bra, doll."

You tilted your head back slightly against his chest, lips twitching faintly. "Punishment for delaying date night."

He groaned softly, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "You’re cruel."

"Maybe," you conceded calmly, turning slowly in his arms to face him. Your eyes softened slightly as you reached up, gently cupping his jaw. "But you deserve it."

He sighed dramatically, but his mouth curved into a faint smirk as his lips brushed lightly against yours. "Fine. Guilty."

Your lips met again slowly, soft and teasing at first, then gradually deeper. You sighed quietly against his mouth, sliding your hands into his hair, tugging gently. He gripped your hips a little tighter, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together firmly.

You pulled away gently after a few more lingering kisses, smiling faintly at his dazed expression. "I'm taking a shower. Alone."

Bucky groaned softly again, giving you something close to a pout as he reluctantly released you. "Really?"

"Really," you replied firmly, stepping back toward the bathroom. "Consider it payback."

"Sweetheart," he started pleadingly, reaching for your hand, eyes wide and hopeful.

You shook your head, lips twitching slightly with amusement. "My decision stands."

He sighed heavily, dramatically collapsing onto the bed, watching you move toward the bathroom door with exaggerated despair. "You're killing me."

"You'll live," you said dryly, shooting him one final teasing glance before disappearing into the bathroom.

You shut the door quietly, smiling faintly to yourself as you heard him mutter a quiet, resigned curse on the other side.

---

You woke slowly the next morning, blinking sleepily in the muted sunlight filtering through the curtains. Bucky’s steady breathing was warm against your neck, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. You shifted slightly, feeling him stir behind you.

"Morning," you murmured softly.

He hummed sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss against your shoulder. "Morning, sweetheart."

"Still pouting?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted, voice thick with sleep as he nuzzled gently against your neck. "You’re mean."

"You deserved it," you murmured quietly, shifting back against him slightly.

He hummed softly, lips brushing warmly against your skin. "Maybe. But you enjoy it way too much."

"Maybe," you echoed dryly, feeling his hand slip from your waist down toward your hip, fingers tracing slowly beneath the edge of your shirt.

Bucky’s lips moved lazily over your shoulder, teeth grazing gently as his leg slid slowly between yours, pressing softly until your breath caught. His metal hand drifted lower, fingertips teasing the waistband of your underwear.

"James," you warned quietly, eyes closing slowly.

"Hm?" he murmured innocently, pressing a warm kiss just below your ear.

You sighed softly, relaxing slightly against him. "We should probably—"

A loud knock at the door shattered the quiet moment. Bucky groaned deeply, dropping his forehead heavily onto your shoulder.

"Barnes!" Yelena’s voice called sharply through the door. "Alexei made pancakes. And he’s offended you’re not here."

Bucky sighed dramatically against your skin, hand withdrawing reluctantly. "Tell him I’m busy."

Yelena paused a moment before knocking again, harder. "No. Get up. He’ll mope."

You rolled your eyes, lightly patting Bucky’s thigh. "Duty calls."

"Don’t care," he muttered petulantly, tightening his arm around your waist again. "I want pancakes with you, not them."

"Barnes!" Yelena snapped again, louder now. "Don’t make me break the door."

"Alright, alright," Bucky called back irritably, sighing heavily as he finally released you, rolling onto his back dramatically. "Be right there."

You turned onto your side, watching him quietly, eyebrow raised faintly. "Tragic."

"Very," he agreed solemnly, glaring half-heartedly at the ceiling.

You leaned over, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his jawline before standing smoothly from the bed. "I'll make it up to you later."

Bucky’s pout softened into a hopeful smirk. "Promise?"

"Maybe," you said dryly, walking to your dresser. "Now get up, Barnes. Can’t keep the kids waiting."

He sighed loudly, reluctantly dragging himself out of bed as you quietly slipped into your leggings. "You sure you don’t want to stay in bed? I’ll fake an injury."

"You’re pathetic," you murmured, lips twitching faintly as you headed toward the door. "Now move."

He groaned softly again, following you toward the door. "Fine. But I reserve the right to sulk."

"You always do," you muttered, stepping out into the hallway without another glance, leaving him shaking his head fondly behind you.

---

Later in the day, you were leaning against the kitchen counter, eating an apple while reading a book. The rest of the team was scattered around—Yelena, Alexei, and Bob chatting animatedly by the fridge, John and Ava lazily lounging on the couch in the living room, TV quietly droning.

You barely looked up when Bucky approached, quietly leaning next to you, close enough for your shoulders to brush. He crossed his arms casually, eyes fixed on your face with a faint smile.

"Got us reservations at Il Mulino tonight," he murmured softly, voice low enough that only you could hear.

You took another bite of your apple, flipping the page. "I don’t want Italian."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes crinkling in amusement. "Since when don’t you want Italian?"

"Since now," you replied evenly, eyes not leaving your page. "I want a burger."

Bucky chuckled softly, bumping your shoulder gently with his. "You’re killin’ me, doll. It’s impossible to get into that burger place of yours last minute."

"Red Hook Tavern," you corrected calmly. "And I have faith in you, Barnes."

He sighed dramatically, nudging you again. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll figure something out. But you owe me."

You finally glanced up at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "For what? You owe me."

He smiled sheepishly, ducking his head. "Fair point."

Across the kitchen, Yelena elbowed Bob discreetly, both watching your quiet exchange with curiosity. "Are they… arguing?" Bob whispered uncertainly, brows furrowing.

Alexei snorted, shaking his head confidently. "No, Bob, this is called flirting. Barnes is flirting badly."

John glanced over from the couch, smirking faintly. "Bucky’s gonna strike out again."

Ava rolled her eyes lightly, voice amused. "Poor guy never learns."

Back at the counter, Bucky leaned in closer, lips nearly brushing your ear. "You know I spoil you, doll."

You hummed softly, voice deadpan. "Burger or nothing."

He huffed a laugh, stepping back slightly, smiling affectionately. "Fine. Burger it is."

"Good." You bit your apple again, returning your attention fully to your book. "Glad that's settled."

He lingered for another moment, watching you quietly with a faint, private smile before finally turning away, walking casually toward the elevator.

The second the doors slid shut behind him, Yelena smirked openly at you from across the kitchen. "Y/N, did Barnes finally work up the courage to ask you out?"

You glanced at her briefly, expression unreadable. "No."

Alexei groaned loudly, slapping his palm dramatically against his forehead. "Pathetic!"

Bob looked genuinely confused, tilting his head slightly. "But they talk all the time."

Yelena shook her head, sighing deeply. "It's complicated, Bob. Barnes pines. Y/N tolerates."

You ignored their chatter, turning quietly away to head down the hall toward your rarely-used room, your expression carefully neutral.

"You're all wrong," John drawled loudly from the couch. "She's just plotting how to murder him."

Ava smiled faintly, eyes still fixed on the TV. "Honestly, who could blame her?"

Yelena sighed dramatically again, leaning her hip against the counter. "Tragic."

You didn't bother responding, closing your bedroom door quietly behind you, a faint, hidden smile touching your lips as you reached for your phone to text Bucky a single word: "Burger?"

His response was almost immediate, playful and warm: "Anything for you, sweetheart."

---

A few hours later, you stepped out of the elevator and into the common area, quietly slipping past the team, who were sprawled out comfortably, watching some mindless action movie.

Yelena glanced up, eyebrows rising curiously. "Whoa. Where you going dressed like that?"

"Out," you replied evenly, adjusting the sleeve of your jacket slightly.

"Out?" John echoed suspiciously, eyes narrowing slightly. "Since when do you go out?"

You shrugged calmly, heading toward the door without looking back. "Since now."

Alexei squinted suspiciously, nudging Bob hard. "You see, Bob? Very mysterious. This one has secret life, I tell you."

Bob blinked slowly, clearly puzzled. "Really?"

Ava rolled her eyes fondly. "Probably just going to scare people for fun."

You didn't respond, stepping smoothly through the doors and disappearing down the hall.

---

Five minutes later, Bucky emerged casually from his room, wearing a dark jacket and looking unusually put together. He adjusted his collar, glancing casually around the room as he headed for the exit.

John's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And where exactly are you headed, Barnes?"

"Got some errands to run," Bucky said easily, not breaking his stride.

"Errands?" Yelena repeated skeptically. "At night?"

He shrugged lightly, shooting her a casual smirk. "I like running errands."

Alexei shook his head, sighing loudly. "Two secret lives under one roof. This team falling apart."

Bob glanced uncertainly between the group. "But—"

"Don't hurt yourself thinking, Bob," Ava interrupted dryly.

Bob sighed softly. "Okay."

"Don't wait up," Bucky called over his shoulder, stepping quickly into the elevator and hitting the button for the ground floor, ignoring the curious stares that followed him.

---

Outside, you stood leaning casually against the side of the building, arms crossed loosely as you waited. The busy Manhattan streets hummed with distant traffic, lights casting a soft glow against the pavement.

When the doors finally opened, Bucky stepped out, immediately breaking into a warm smile as he caught sight of you. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured softly, walking toward you with a playful glint in his eyes. "Fancy meeting you here."

You gave him a deadpan look. "Took you long enough."

He chuckled quietly, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss against your cheek. "Sorry. Had to shake the interrogation."

You rolled your eyes, stepping smoothly into pace beside him as you both began walking. "They suspicious?"

"Always," he sighed dramatically, sliding an arm comfortably around your waist. "Luckily, they're clueless."

You hummed softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "Good."

Bucky nudged you gently, voice teasing. "You look good."

You glanced at him sideways, eyebrow arching faintly. "Better appreciate it. I don't dress up for just anyone."

He laughed quietly, tugging you a bit closer to him as you walked. "Believe me, doll, I'm honored."

"Gross," you muttered lightly, hiding your smile against his shoulder as he laughed again, the two of you disappearing together into the lively Manhattan evening.

---

The two of you settled comfortably into the subway seats, the train gently rumbling beneath you as it moved toward Brooklyn. Bucky sat close, thigh pressed against yours, arm casually draped over the back of your seat.

"You know," he murmured playfully, eyes fixed on the dark windows flashing by, "we could've taken a car."

You scoffed lightly, leaning back. "And miss watching you navigate public transportation? Never."

He laughed softly, nudging your shoulder with his. "I'm not that bad."

"You still stare suspiciously at the turnstiles."

"They beep at me," he muttered defensively. "Makes me nervous."

You hummed dryly. "Super soldier, war hero—intimidated by a turnstile."

He sighed dramatically, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "You’re mean, sweetheart."

"You married me," you pointed out calmly.

"Must've been temporarily insane," he teased, lips brushing your temple softly. "Lucky for me, the condition’s permanent."

You rolled your eyes faintly, though a hidden smile curled your lips. "You realize you're flirting with your own wife, right?"

"Constantly," he admitted shamelessly. "You complaining?"

"No," you murmured softly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. "But don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he chuckled softly, kissing the crown of your head.

The train finally slowed, pulling into your stop. You stood easily, Bucky’s hand sliding naturally into yours as you navigated the crowds, stepping onto the platform and heading up toward the Brooklyn streets.

---

Red Hook Tavern was warm, cozy, bustling comfortably with chatter. A low, mellow soundtrack filled the space, the scent of burgers and fries thick in the air. Bucky guided you gently through the small crowd, settling into a quiet booth toward the back.

You leaned back, breathing in contentedly. "See? Better than pasta."

Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling faintly. "You win. Happy now?"

"Very," you replied dryly, eyes glinting with faint amusement.

He watched you thoughtfully for a moment, his expression softening. "You're cute when you're smug."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Careful, Barnes."

"What?" He smiled innocently, leaning across the table. "Just appreciating my date."

"Again," you muttered fondly, "you're married."

He shrugged casually, glancing down at the menu. "Just means I have exceptional taste."

You hid your smile behind your menu, shaking your head lightly. "Ridiculous."

"You love it."

"Unfortunately," you conceded, setting your menu aside as the waitress approached.

---

An hour later, the two of you wandered quietly through Brooklyn’s quieter streets, fingers intertwined, the glow of streetlights casting soft shadows on the pavement. "Happy?" Bucky asked softly, glancing down at you with a gentle smile.

"Surprisingly," you replied evenly, leaning slightly against his side as you walked.

He nudged you playfully. "I'm sensing a compliment."

"Don't get used to it."

He chuckled quietly, voice warm. "Wouldn't dream of it."

You walked in comfortable silence for a few more blocks, the soft hum of distant traffic and nightlife filling the spaces between you.

"You ever gonna let them know?" Bucky finally asked, tone carefully casual. "The team?"

You sighed quietly, eyes flicking up toward him briefly. "Eventually. Just… not yet."

He squeezed your hand lightly, understanding. "Whatever you want, doll."

"Thank you," you murmured softly, leaning your head against his arm as you continued walking.

Bucky smiled warmly down at you, his voice quiet and teasing. "Don't worry. They’re all still convinced you hate me."

You snorted softly. "Good."

"Harsh," he murmured fondly.

"True," you countered dryly.

He laughed softly again, gently guiding you toward the subway entrance, heading back toward the Watchtower.

---

You stepped back into the Watchtower quietly, slipping from Bucky’s side as the elevator doors opened. He lingered behind a minute, watching as you vanished silently into his room, maintaining the illusion carefully.

The common room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city through the large windows and the soft overhead lights from the kitchen. It seemed deserted until Yelena suddenly appeared, leaning casually against the fridge with a glass of water in hand.

"Late errands, Barnes?" she asked pointedly, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Something like that," Bucky replied easily, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of the nearest chair.

She hummed, eyes glinting mischievously. "Interesting. Because Y/N just got back too. Coincidence?"

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms comfortably. "It’s Manhattan, Lena. Not exactly a small town."

"Right," she drawled sarcastically. "So just an innocent coincidence."

He tilted his head slightly, smirking faintly. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"I don’t," she said mildly, taking a sip of her water. "But Alexei’s invested. He thinks you’re finally making progress."

"Glad he's entertained," Bucky muttered dryly, pushing away from the counter and heading toward his room. "Night, Lena."

"Goodnight, Barnes," she called after him, amusement still evident in her voice. "Sleep well."

---

Bucky stepped quietly into his room, shutting the door behind him softly. The bathroom door was closed, the lights shining from underneath the door. He sighed comfortably, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it casually onto a nearby chair. Moving toward his dresser, he opened a drawer, sifting lazily through shirts and sweatpants.

The bathroom door clicked softly open behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder absently, then froze. His eyes widened, then narrowed appreciatively, gaze sweeping slowly from head to toe. You leaned casually against the doorframe, completely at ease in a two-piece lingerie set—deep emerald green, his favorite color—with a short black silk robe hanging loosely off your shoulders.

Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily speechless. "Jesus," he muttered faintly under his breath.

You arched a single eyebrow, expression carefully neutral. "See something you like, Barnes?"

"God, yes," he admitted shamelessly, turning fully to face you, eyes lingering appreciatively. "Special occasion?"

You shrugged casually, pushing off from the doorframe and walking slowly toward him. "You finally came through on date night. I figured you deserved a reward."

He chuckled softly, his voice low as his eyes tracked every subtle movement. "Remind me to always give you exactly what you want."

You hummed quietly, stopping mere inches from him, tilting your head slightly upward. "Smart man."

He reached out carefully, fingers grazing softly along the smooth silk fabric of your robe. His gaze flicked warmly to yours, playful and heated. "How long have you been hiding this?"

You met his stare evenly, unbothered. "Long enough."

He smiled faintly, tugging you gently closer by the ties of your robe. "Tease."

"Maybe," you conceded quietly, not resisting as he slowly pulled you closer, lips hovering just above yours. "But you're into it."

"Very," he murmured softly, finally capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His hand slipped beneath your robe, gently sliding along your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You sighed softly, pressing closer, fingers tangling lazily into his hair. "Told you I’d make it up to you."

He hummed appreciatively against your lips. "You're definitely forgiven."

"Good," you replied dryly, guiding him backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and he sank easily onto it, hands settling firmly on your hips. You stood comfortably between his knees, looking down at him calmly, your fingers drifting slowly along his jawline.

"You’re staring," he teased softly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You love it," you murmured bluntly.

He chuckled warmly, tilting his head up to kiss your fingertips softly. "Unfortunately."

"Thought so," you replied evenly, finally sliding onto his lap, knees settling easily on either side of him.

His eyes fluttered briefly shut, breath hitching as your weight settled comfortably over him. "You're killing me."

"You’ll live," you said flatly, fingers slowly trailing down his chest, teasing the edges of his shirt. "Now take this off."

He obeyed quickly, tugging his shirt easily over his head, tossing it aside without a glance. His hands returned immediately to your waist, sliding slowly upward, fingertips grazing gently along the lace covering your ribs.

"Beautiful," he murmured softly, eyes warm as he leaned forward, lips brushing gently against your collarbone.

You tilted your head slightly back, eyes closing softly. "I know."

Bucky laughed quietly against your skin, warm breath ghosting along your neck. "And humble."

"Shut up, Barnes," you muttered quietly, pulling his face back up to yours, capturing his lips firmly.

He smiled into the kiss, deepening it slowly, hands tightening gently on your hips, drawing you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath hitched, body flush to his, silk brushing skin with every shift. You tugged his bottom lip with your teeth before pulling back just enough to murmur:

“Move up.”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard, then smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

He shifted up the bed without argument, head brushing the headboard, arms propped behind him. You stayed on his lap the entire time, thighs bracketing his, your robe sliding further open with every slight movement, the soft lace of your bra brushing against his bare chest.

You rolled your hips forward, slow, just enough friction to make his hands fly to your waist again. His breath stuttered.

“Fuck, doll…”

“You’re still overdressed,” you muttered, fingers already working his belt loose, eyes fixed on the buckle like it offended you.

He chuckled low. “Can’t say no when you look at me like that.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you replied flatly, shoving his pants and briefs down far enough to free him, eyes flicking up to catch the way his jaw tensed.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, gaze locked on the way you curled your fingers around him, stroking just enough to make him hiss.

You didn’t waste time. Just shifted your weight, pushed your underwear to the side, lined him up, and sank down in one slow, steady motion. His head thudded softly against the wall behind him.

“Goddamn—” he hissed between his teeth, hands gripping your hips hard. “You feel—fuck, doll—perfect.”

Your brows knit briefly, jaw clenching as you adjusted to the stretch, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. You lowered until he was fully inside, buried to the hilt, and only then did you pause—just to make sure he felt every inch of you around him.

He reached up, brushing your cheek with one hand, voice low. “You okay?”

You met his gaze, flat and unreadable, but your voice was rough when you replied. “Yeah. Shut up.”

Bucky just laughed, breathless. “Knew you loved me.”

You started to move—slow, controlled rolls of your hips that had him swearing under his breath, fingers twitching against your waist like he was trying not to force your pace. He didn’t have to. You had a rhythm, deliberate and maddening.

“You're tryin’ to kill me,” he groaned, head tilted back.

You leaned forward slightly, hands braced on his chest, spine arching as you rocked against him again. “If I wanted you dead, Barnes, you'd already be a corpse.”

“Shit, that’s hot,” he muttered, grip tightening again.

You smirked faintly, then leaned in, lips brushing his. “Told you I don’t dress up for just anyone.”

“And I told you,” he growled, sitting up to meet you halfway, “I’m honored.”

You reached between you and yanked on his dog tags, jerking him into a hard kiss. He groaned into it, mouth slanted against yours as his hands slid down, one settling firmly on your ass, the other at the small of your back, guiding your rhythm now, hips rising to meet yours on every downstroke.

Your breath hitched when he hit that spot—again. Again. Your fingers twisted tighter in the chain around his neck.

“Fuuuck,” he muttered, biting your bottom lip. “Keep clenching like that and this is gonna be over real fast, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you panted against his mouth, forehead pressed to his. “You’ll last.”

He grinned, voice wrecked. “Bossy. Love that.”

You rocked harder, pace picking up now, sweat starting to bead at your temples. Your robe slid entirely off your shoulders, forgotten.

Bucky looked up at you like you hung the moon. Like the way your brow furrowed in pleasure was something sacred. He reached up, thumb brushing along your jaw, voice barely audible over the wet slap of skin on skin.

“Look at you,” he murmured, utterly gone. “My fuckin’ wife.”

You kissed him again, rougher this time, teeth clacking for a second, neither of you caring. You moaned low in your throat, the sound dragging from your chest when he shifted just slightly and—

“Ohhh—fuck,” you gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as you chased it, that tight pull in your stomach threatening to snap. “Right there.”

Bucky grunted, hips snapping up to meet yours harder. “Come on, doll. Let go for me. You’ve been so fuckin’ good.”

You curled your fingers into his shoulder blades and dropped your head to his neck, teeth scraping skin as your entire body shuddered.

He felt it—your pulse pounding where your mouth met his throat, the way you clenched down so tight around him he nearly lost it on the spot.

“That’s it,” he growled, biting back a moan. “That’s my girl.”

You rode it out with a broken gasp, voice cracking on a low, “Shit—fuck—Bucky—”

He thrust up hard twice more and then stilled, buried deep, arms crushing you to his chest as he came with a sharp exhale against your ear, voice rough as gravel.

“Fuck, doll, fuck—you drive me fuckin’ insane—”

You both breathed heavy, bodies slick and tangled, still flush together. You stayed straddled over him, his arms still locked tight around your waist.

Eventually, he muttered against your throat, voice raspy, “am I forgiven?”

You huffed softly, fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. "Provisionally."

"Provisionally?" he echoed, pulling back slightly to give you a playful, offended look. "Sweetheart, after that?"

"Especially after that," you drawled dryly, leaning forward again to kiss him softly. "You delayed date night."

"I got you your burger," he argued lightly, kissing your jaw. "And fries."

"You delayed," you repeated evenly, shifting slightly, making him groan quietly.

He exhaled slowly, leaning his forehead gently against yours. "Fine. How do I make it up to you?"

"Breakfast in bed."

He chuckled softly, tightening his arms gently around your waist. "Done. Anything else?"

"Coffee. Good coffee."

"You drive a hard bargain," he murmured, lips brushing softly against your temple.

You pulled back, leveling him with a serious look. "And you're still talking."

Bucky laughed quietly, eyes bright with affection. "Harsh."

You hummed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "True."

He gently stroked your back, the silence settling comfortably around you both for a moment before he spoke again, voice soft. "You planning on staying tonight?"

You tilted your head slightly, arching a brow. "I always stay."

He smiled warmly, pressing a kiss lightly to your forehead. "Just checking."

You rolled your eyes faintly, voice low. "Barnes, you're needy."

"Only with you," he teased gently, fingers tracing softly along your spine. "Don’t tell anyone."

"Trust me," you muttered dryly, closing your eyes comfortably, "not an issue."

He chuckled quietly again, shifting slightly until you both lay comfortably tangled together, blankets pulled loosely around you. You sighed softly, feeling your body finally relax fully against his.

"Wake me up early and you're dead," you warned softly.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," he murmured, lips pressing gently to the crown of your head. "Sleep well."

You hummed softly, already half asleep. "You too."

He tightened his hold slightly, breathing slowly evening out as the two of you drifted comfortably into sleep.

---

You stepped quietly into the training room, finding the team already deep into sparring practice. Alexei and John were loudly wrestling on one side, Ava was rhythmically hammering into a punching bag, and Yelena stood by Bob, calmly instructing him through basic defensive stances.

You slipped past them, silently observing from your usual place against the wall.

“Decided to show after all?” Ava asked dryly, pausing briefly to glance at you.

You gave a faint nod, not responding verbally. She shrugged slightly, returning to her bag.

Moments later, Bucky stepped in, quietly catching your eye across the room. He offered you a small, playful smirk. You raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgment.

John immediately spotted him, stepping away from Alexei with a wide grin. "Hey Barnes, you gonna spar today or you too busy humming?"

Bucky sighed heavily, stepping onto the mats casually. "You really don't let anything go, do you?"

Alexei chuckled, slapping Bucky’s shoulder enthusiastically. "Of course not! Team bonding means constant harassment. Builds character."

"Thanks, Alexei," Bucky muttered sarcastically. He looked around the room, glancing pointedly at John. "Fine. Let's go."

You settled more comfortably against the wall, watching calmly as Bucky circled John easily. He moved fluidly, clearly holding back slightly, amused as John struggled to land any hits.

Across the room, Yelena stepped quietly to your side, voice low. "Barnes is unusually smug today."

You tilted your head slightly, eyes not leaving the match. "He looks the same to me."

Yelena smirked, eyes narrowing slightly. "He’s glancing over here. A lot."

You shrugged lightly. "Maybe he's worried you’ll interrogate him again."

She huffed quietly, eyes fixed suspiciously on your neutral expression. "Or maybe he's trying to impress someone."

You glanced at her calmly, voice flat. "You think Barnes needs to impress anyone?"

She paused, considering, then sighed irritably. "You’re annoyingly good at not answering."

"Thanks," you replied dryly, returning your attention to the mats as John landed heavily on his back, groaning.

Bucky offered him a hand up, smirking faintly. "You good?"

John rolled his eyes, wincing as he stood. "Peachy."

Alexei laughed loudly, clapping dramatically. "Barnes is champion again! Who wants next?"

Bucky glanced briefly your way, raising an eyebrow in silent challenge. You calmly ignored him, sipping water from a nearby bottle.

"Y/N!" Alexei suddenly called cheerfully. "Come, come! You fight Barnes, yes?"

You sighed softly, setting your bottle aside. "Fine."

Bucky smiled slightly, rolling his shoulders. "Try not to hurt me too bad, doll."

Yelena raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You two seem friendly all of a sudden."

Bucky shrugged easily, eyes fixed calmly on you. "She tolerates me."

You stepped onto the mats smoothly, circling slowly. "Barely."

"Careful," he teased gently, lunging forward suddenly. You sidestepped effortlessly, eyes coolly amused as you avoided him again.

"You’re slow today," you murmured dryly, watching his careful movements.

He chuckled softly, voice low. "Maybe I’m distracted."

You scoffed quietly, easily dodging his grasp again. "Focus."

He feigned a pout, attempting to catch your wrist. "Maybe you’re my focus."

Across the room, John glanced skeptically at Yelena. "Are they flirting again?"

Yelena sighed deeply. "Probably. Barnes never learns."

You neatly twisted, ducking beneath Bucky’s arm, and landed a precise hit to his ribs. He laughed softly, barely flinching as he circled you again. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Maybe," you replied evenly, stepping closer, eyes narrowed playfully. "But you clearly like it."

"Very," he admitted shamelessly, voice low enough only you could hear. "But maybe take it easy—I bruise easily."

"Liar," you muttered softly, moving swiftly again, barely missing him as he slipped neatly out of reach.

He grinned faintly, teasing openly now. "Maybe I just like when you play rough."

"Gross," John muttered dryly from the sidelines.

Alexei nodded gravely. "Agreed."

You finally caught Bucky’s wrist smoothly, twisting lightly until he laughed, yielding dramatically. "Fine, fine, you win."

You released him, stepping calmly back, expression neutral. "Again."

He smiled faintly, shaking his head affectionately. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Yelena rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. "You two are exhausting."

Bob tilted his head uncertainly. "Why?"

She shook her head slowly. "Trust me, Bob. Don't worry about it."

You ignored them all, eyes fixed calmly on Bucky as you circled again, the quiet amusement between you both carefully hidden beneath calm, unreadable expressions.

---

A week later, you were quietly pouring yourself coffee when Bob spoke up from the table, his voice uncertain.

"Hey, um... has anyone ever noticed Y/N's room is always spotless?"

John glanced up skeptically. "Why are you even looking at Y/N's room?"

Bob flushed slightly. "I'm not—I just noticed the door's always closed, and... the lights are never on."

Alexei immediately perked up, delighted. "Aha! Suspicious! Perhaps she is vampire. No sleep, no mess."

Yelena rolled her eyes, but her curiosity was clearly piqued. "Bob has a point, though. Have any of you ever actually seen her go into her room?"

The team fell silent, all of them exchanging curious glances. Ava finally shrugged. "Maybe she just likes things clean."

Bob shook his head. "No, like—really clean. Hotel-room clean."

Alexei slammed his hand on the table dramatically, making Bob jump. "Exactly! Vampire. Or spy. Or spy vampire."

Bucky, leaning casually against the counter, swallowed his coffee a little too quickly, coughing quietly.

"You alright, Barnes?" John asked suspiciously.

Bucky nodded, voice rough. "Fine."

Yelena stood suddenly, chair scraping softly against the floor. "I'm checking it out."

"You can't just invade someone's room, Lena," Ava said dryly.

"Watch me," Yelena said easily, already heading down the hall.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly. He glanced quickly toward you, but you merely sipped your coffee calmly, expression utterly neutral.

John watched Yelena go, snorting softly. "She's definitely gonna get herself killed."

Alexei chuckled deeply, clearly entertained. "If vampire Y/N doesn't get her first."

---

Five minutes later, Yelena returned looking oddly disappointed. She dropped back into her chair with a huff, crossing her arms irritably.

"Well?" Alexei demanded eagerly. "Did you find coffin?"

"No coffin," she muttered bitterly. "Just a very boring, very unused bed."

Bob blinked slowly. "Unused?"

"Perfectly made," Yelena confirmed, glaring pointedly at Bucky. "Not a wrinkle. It's like she never sleeps there."

Bucky shrugged lightly, avoiding her stare. "Maybe she just makes the bed."

"Or," John drawled thoughtfully, "she sleeps hanging upside down from the ceiling. Alexei's vampire theory holds up."

Bob furrowed his brow deeply. "Can people actually do that?"

"Bob," Ava sighed gently, "please don’t hurt yourself."

You calmly finished your coffee, setting your mug quietly in the sink. "This is a fascinating discussion."

Yelena turned her sharp gaze directly onto you. "Care to explain your oddly pristine bedroom?"

You raised a single brow calmly, leaning back against the counter. "Not really."

Alexei laughed heartily, slapping the table enthusiastically. "I told you! Vampire!"

Bucky coughed again, barely hiding his smile behind his coffee cup. "Right. Vampire."

Yelena narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you, arms folded. "You realize I’ll figure it out eventually."

"Good luck," you murmured dryly, moving toward the hallway. "Have fun with your theories."

As you disappeared down the hall, Alexei beamed cheerfully, gesturing toward Bucky. "Barnes! You watch your back tonight. Our scary friend might come for your neck!"

Bucky snorted quietly, setting his mug down. "Pretty sure I can handle her."

"Good luck," Ava muttered, eyes amused. "If anyone's a vampire, it's her."

Bucky smiled faintly, following you down the hall calmly, ignoring the curious, skeptical gazes burning into his back.

---

It was past midnight when a sharp knock jolted Bucky awake. He sat up abruptly, eyes immediately darting to you beside him. You were still fast asleep, breathing steady, face relaxed into the pillow.

Another sharp knock came, followed by Yelena’s irritated voice. "Y/N. You awake?"

Bucky muttered a curse under his breath, gently sliding from beneath the covers, careful not to wake you. He pulled on a shirt quickly, quietly stepping into the hallway and closing the bedroom door behind him before Yelena knocked again.

"What the hell, Lena?" he whispered harshly.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Barnes. What are you doing here?"

He gestured vaguely down the hall, trying to look casual. "I was—getting water. What's your excuse?"

She narrowed her eyes skeptically. "I needed Y/N."

"At midnight?" he hissed.

She shrugged unapologetically. "Couldn't sleep. Thought she might be up. Her lights are always off anyway."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing softly. "She’s not in there."

Yelena folded her arms, suspicion spiking immediately. "And how would you know?"

He paused, scrambling for a believable lie. "I saw her leave earlier. Said something about going for a run."

"A run," Yelena echoed flatly. "At midnight."

"Yeah," Bucky muttered, attempting to sound confident. "She does that sometimes."

Yelena stared at him, completely unconvinced. "Really."

"Really," Bucky said firmly, meeting her gaze evenly.

She eyed him carefully, suspicion heavy in her stare. "You’re acting weird, Barnes."

He forced a casual shrug. "You're knocking on people’s doors at midnight. Who's weird?"

Yelena narrowed her eyes further, voice dry. "I’m watching you."

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, stepping past her toward the kitchen. "Have fun with that."

She remained standing by your unused door, eyes tracking him as he moved down the hallway. Eventually, she shook her head, irritation clear, and turned back toward her own room. "Ridiculous," she mumbled softly. "Everyone in this place is losing their minds."

Once the hallway was finally quiet again, Bucky returned quickly to his room, slipping silently inside. He exhaled slowly, relieved, as he quietly shut the door behind him. He turned back toward the bed—and found you wide awake, watching him with a faint, amused expression.

"Enjoy your midnight chat?" you asked dryly.

He sighed heavily, climbing back into bed beside you. "Your friend is getting suspicious."

You rolled your eyes slightly, shifting closer to him again. "She’s your friend."

"Not tonight," he muttered, tugging you gently into his arms. "Tonight she’s a nuisance."

You hummed softly, settling comfortably against his chest. "You handled it?"

"For now," he admitted reluctantly. "Barely."

You smirked faintly, tilting your head up slightly to kiss his jaw. "Good."

Bucky tightened his hold around your waist, dropping a soft kiss onto your forehead. "Next time she knocks, you're answering."

"No," you murmured firmly, eyes already drifting closed again. "You're better at lying."

He chuckled softly, voice warm. "Fair enough."

You settled into silence again, listening to his heartbeat slowly ease back into a calm rhythm. After a moment, you murmured softly, "You're still awake."

He sighed, voice dry with mild irritation. "Yeah. Someone knocking at midnight does that."

You smiled faintly, turning your head gently into his shoulder. "You'll live."

"Maybe," he teased quietly, fingers trailing softly along your spine. "If your friend doesn't kill me first."

"Sleep, Barnes," you murmured flatly.

He chuckled softly, finally relaxing fully into the mattress, eyes slowly closing. "Yes, ma'am."

---

Two days later, you were leaning against the kitchen counter, quietly observing as Ava scrolled through her phone, Yelena perched eagerly next to her.

“No,” Ava muttered. “Not her. Too cheerful.”

John peered over her shoulder skeptically. “Cheerful’s good. Maybe it’ll rub off on him.”

“What are you idiots doing?” Bucky asked warily, pouring himself coffee and shooting a confused glance in their direction.

Ava looked up casually, voice deadpan. “Finding you a date.”

Bucky nearly choked on his coffee. “A what?”

Alexei nodded enthusiastically, grinning. “Yes! Barnes, you mope too much. Need romantic distraction.”

Bucky raised a skeptical brow. “I’m fine.”

“You’re absolutely not fine,” Yelena countered, voice dry. “You need help.”

You remained perfectly silent, casually sipping your own coffee, your expression blank as Bucky shot you a subtle, desperate glance.

“Ah!” Ava suddenly exclaimed triumphantly. “Got it. My friend’s a barista. Cute, funny, tolerates annoying customers. She’s perfect.”

“Perfect!” Alexei echoed loudly, slapping the table with excitement.

Bucky looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Really not necessary.”

Ava ignored him, already texting rapidly. “Too late. It’s done.”

“Fantastic,” Bucky muttered flatly, stealing another quick, pleading glance toward you. You met his gaze evenly, taking another calm sip of coffee. “You could at least pretend to help,” he murmured irritably, just loud enough for you to hear.

You raised a single eyebrow, voice flat. “Looks like you’ve got it covered.”

Ava looked up again, smiling smugly. “Tomorrow night, seven sharp.”

Bucky sighed heavily, clearly defeated. “Great.”

---

Later that evening, Bucky leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching you quietly as you calmly flipped through a book. His arms were crossed over his chest, an amused, questioning expression on his face.

“You jealous, sweetheart?” he finally teased softly.

You didn’t look up from your page, voice utterly flat. “Of watching you struggle to make small talk? No.”

He laughed softly, pushing away from the doorway to step toward you, gently tugging the book from your hands. “So you don’t care if I go?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, voice deceptively casual. “You’re allowed to have friends.”

He smirked faintly, leaning closer until his lips brushed your jaw. “It’s a date, doll. Not a friend.”

You turned slightly, raising a challenging eyebrow. “You’re awfully smug for someone sleeping alone tonight.”

He chuckled softly, gently gripping your chin, tilting your face to his. “You’re awfully possessive for someone who ‘doesn’t care.’”

You sighed deeply, voice low and even. “Barnes.”

“Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured teasingly, lips brushing yours softly.

“Go on your stupid date,” you muttered flatly, pulling back slightly. “Smile at her once and I’ll murder you.”

He laughed warmly, clearly delighted. “Understood.”

You took your book back from his hand calmly, settling against the pillows again. “Glad we’re clear.”

Bucky shook his head fondly, climbing onto the bed beside you, settling comfortably close. “You know, if you don’t want me to go, you could just say so.”

You turned the page calmly, eyes on the text again. “Go.”

“Right,” he teased softly, lips brushing your shoulder. “But no smiling.”

“No smiling,” you confirmed flatly, finally glancing toward him, a faint, hidden smile tugging at your lips. “At least not nicely.”

He chuckled again, relaxing fully beside you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re needy,” you murmured calmly, gently resting your head against his shoulder.

“Only with you,” he reminded you softly, pressing a tender kiss against your temple.

“Good,” you muttered dryly. “Keep it that way.”

---

You walked into the bedroom as Bucky left the bathroom, freshly showered getting ready for his date. “I changed my mind,” you said firmly, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

Bucky turned to face you, a slow, cocky smirk spreading across his lips. “Oh?”

“Don’t get smug, Barnes.”

He held his hands up innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” you shot back, eyes narrowed slightly.

He stepped closer, clearly enjoying this. “So you don’t want me to go now?”

“No,” you admitted bluntly, jaw tight.

“Is this you being jealous again?” he teased lightly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you.

“No,” you repeated flatly. “This is me deciding I don’t feel like hiding your body.”

He laughed quietly, eyes bright. “Sweetheart, it’s just dinner.”

“With another woman.”

“A dinner you approved,” he reminded you playfully.

“I changed my mind,” you said again, voice colder this time. “Cancel it.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “What if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll stab you,” you said, deadpan. “And that’ll solve the problem anyway.”

He laughed softly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your temple. “God, you’re hot when you’re threatening my life.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing gently against his chest. “Shut up, Barnes. Cancel the date.”

He chuckled again, pulling his phone from his pocket without hesitation, typing quickly. “Fine, fine. It’s canceled.”

“Good.”

“Happy now?” he teased softly.

“Ecstatic,” you muttered sarcastically, turning away and heading toward the bathroom. You paused at the doorway, glancing back briefly. “And wipe that smug look off your face, Barnes.”

Bucky grinned broadly, eyes gleaming. “Yes, ma’am.”

---

Ten minutes later, Bucky wandered casually into the common room, dropping onto the couch beside John. Yelena glanced up from her phone immediately, brows raised. “Shouldn’t you be gone already?” she asked suspiciously.

Bucky shrugged casually, grabbing the remote. “Canceled.”

John snorted. “Got stood up already?”

“Something like that,” Bucky replied mildly.

Alexei shook his head dramatically. “Barnes, terrible luck with romance. Maybe you should become monk.”

“Thanks for the suggestion,” Bucky muttered dryly. “I’ll think about it.”

Ava raised an eyebrow skeptically. “She canceled or you?”

“It was mutual,” Bucky lied smoothly, flipping through the channels casually.

Across the room, Bob glanced uncertainly toward your closed bedroom door. “Where’s Y/N?”

Bucky didn’t look up. “No idea.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Bucky, clearly unconvinced. “Very convenient timing.”

He met her gaze evenly, unbothered. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Alexei laughed heartily. “Yes, very lucky! Lucky you get rejected!”

“Right,” Bucky sighed flatly. “Thanks.”

John elbowed him lightly. “Want me to text Ava’s friend for you? Try again?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky replied firmly. “I’m good.”

Yelena frowned thoughtfully, still skeptical. “I’m watching you, Barnes.”

Bucky smiled faintly, unfazed. “You’ve mentioned.”

“You’re suspicious,” she muttered quietly, eyes narrowed. “You’re both suspicious.”

“You’re paranoid,” Bucky countered dryly, turning back to the TV.

Ava sighed heavily, glancing up briefly. “Both can be true.”

Alexei nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely both!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, ignoring their pointed stares. “Whatever you say.”

Across the room, Bob glanced around again uncertainly. “But really, has anyone seen Y/N?”

“She’s probably plotting someone’s murder,” John replied calmly.

Alexei chuckled heartily, nodding. “Likely.”

Bucky fought a faint smile, eyes staying carefully fixed on the screen. “Sounds about right.”

---

The common area was unusually quiet as the team lounged about lazily. Alexei was mindlessly flipping channels, Ava texting on her phone, and Yelena and John bickering quietly over breakfast.

Bob glanced up first, brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Hey, uh... is Bucky wearing green?"

Yelena's head whipped around immediately, eyes widening dramatically as Bucky entered the kitchen, completely unbothered, in a dark green Henley and grey sweats.

"Whoa," John muttered, mid-bite, clearly shocked. "Did someone die?"

Ava raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Barnes, did you hit your head?"

Bucky sighed deeply, pouring coffee calmly. "What now?"

"Your clothes," Alexei said gravely, as though discussing a great tragedy. "They have color."

Bucky looked down casually, shrugging. "It's just green."

"Exactly," Yelena agreed, nodding sharply. "That's the point. You don't wear green."

"I can wear green," Bucky replied dryly. "There's no rule against green."

John shook his head, feigning seriousness. "Yeah, but you're usually like... Batman."

"Batman?" Bucky echoed flatly, brows rising.

"All black, all brooding," John clarified. "It's your vibe."

Alexei clapped loudly, enthusiastically agreeing. "Yes! Like angry shadow! Very broody!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly amused, but said nothing.

"Maybe he's finally cracking," Ava teased lightly, still focused on her phone.

"Maybe," Yelena muttered suspiciously, eyes narrowed as she watched him carefully. "Or someone's influencing him."

"Conspiracy theory, Lena?" Bucky asked mildly, sipping his coffee.

"Yes," she said immediately, completely serious. "I suspect foul play."

Bob tilted his head thoughtfully. "But he looks good."

Bucky pointed at him appreciatively. "Thank you, Bob."

Bob smiled shyly, clearly pleased with himself. "You're welcome."

The conversation continued, dissolving into pointless bickering. You chose that exact moment to enter quietly, moving casually toward the coffee machine. As you passed behind Bucky, you swiftly and casually slapped his ass, hiding your smirk as he jolted slightly.

His eyes immediately shot to yours, wide and startled.

"Nice color, Barnes," you murmured evenly, calmly grabbing a coffee mug. You moved away without another glance, expression utterly neutral, even as his cheeks reddened faintly. Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly, quickly turning back to his coffee.

"Barnes?" Yelena asked sharply, catching the awkward shift. "You good?"

"Fine," he muttered quickly, eyes fixed pointedly on his mug.

John narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Something's up."

"Nothing's up," Bucky replied a little too quickly, clearing his throat again.

Alexei chuckled deeply, nodding knowingly. "Very suspicious."

Ava sighed deeply. "Oh, please don't start another conspiracy theory."

You smirked faintly behind your mug, eyes briefly meeting Bucky's again from across the room. He shot you a small, playful glare, barely suppressing his smile.

Yelena leaned forward, watching him carefully. "Barnes, you're acting weird again."

Bucky huffed quietly, sipping his coffee and trying to look unbothered. "It's literally just a shirt, Lena."

You moved quietly toward the exit, tossing a casual comment over your shoulder. "I think it's his color." The entire room fell silent as you disappeared down the hall, all eyes immediately flicking back to Bucky.

John raised an eyebrow slowly. "Did she just give you a compliment?"

Bucky shrugged lightly, fighting a smirk as he avoided everyone's suspicious gaze. "Guess so."

"She definitely did," Ava confirmed flatly, clearly amused.

Alexei chuckled knowingly, slapping the table enthusiastically. "Ah-ha! Progress!"

Yelena narrowed her eyes suspiciously, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. "I still don't trust it."

"You trust nothing," John pointed out dryly.

"True," she conceded evenly. "But especially not Barnes and Y/N."

Bucky shook his head, sighing dramatically as he headed for the elevator. "You're all ridiculous."

Bob looked around uncertainly. "But he does look good in green."

"Yes, Bob," Yelena sighed heavily. "That's the problem."

---

You walked quietly into the training room, finding the team spread out, already deep into their routines. John was spotting Bob at the bench press, Ava stretched by the punching bags, and Alexei lounged against the wall, offering unhelpful commentary. You silently moved toward the mats, your necklace catching briefly in the overhead lights.

Yelena immediately paused mid-stretch, staring openly. "You're wearing a necklace."

"So?" you replied evenly, stretching casually.

"So," Yelena echoed slowly, suspiciously. "You don't usually wear accessories."

You raised an eyebrow calmly. "You're paying attention to my jewelry habits now?"

"Someone has to," she muttered flatly. "Something's definitely up."

Across the room, Bucky entered casually, eyes briefly locking onto the necklace, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He hid it quickly, grabbing a water bottle instead.

Alexei pointed enthusiastically toward you. "Barnes! Our scary friend wears mystery necklace."

Bucky feigned mild disinterest. "Good for her."

"You don't care?" Yelena asked skeptically, eyeing him suspiciously. "You’re usually pretty invested.”

"That’s you," he reminded her dryly, calmly taking a sip of water. "I'm fine with it."

"Hmm," she murmured, clearly unconvinced.

You ignored them all, beginning your warm-up calmly, your necklace gleaming softly beneath the lights.

Bob watched curiously, his voice quiet. "Maybe it's important to her."

Alexei chuckled loudly. "Important like secret admirer!"

You exhaled slowly, voice flat. "Maybe it is."

The room fell immediately quiet. Yelena's eyes narrowed sharply, suspicion spiking. "Did you just admit you have a secret admirer?"

You didn't reply, calmly continuing your stretches. Bucky turned his back quickly, clearly trying to hide his faint smirk behind his water bottle.

John shook his head slowly. "There's no way."

Alexei clapped loudly. "There is way! Romance in the tower, very exciting!"

Ava sighed deeply, clearly bored. "Not everything's a conspiracy."

"This definitely is," Yelena muttered darkly, still glaring pointedly at you.

"Leave her alone," Bucky said lightly, stepping calmly onto the mats. "If she wants to keep secrets, let her."

Yelena raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You're suspiciously supportive."

"I'm supportive of privacy," Bucky replied evenly. "Especially when it means fewer interrogations from you."

You stepped forward, tilting your head slightly, eyes coolly amused. "Barnes. Are we talking or training?"

He smirked faintly, eyes glinting with amusement as he dropped into a defensive stance. "Training."

"Good," you murmured flatly, moving fluidly toward him. "Less talking."

"She really scares me," John muttered from the side, watching warily.

Alexei laughed heartily, delighted. "Yes, very terrifying! Especially with jewelry."

You ignored them, focused solely on Bucky as you sparred, both of you carefully hiding your faint smiles each time you moved closer, your necklace gleaming softly between you.

“I swear to God, Barnes. If you grope me, I’ll kill you.”

Bucky chuckled quietly, moving around you smoothly on the mats. “You’re wearing my favorite. Can’t blame a guy for being distracted.”

“You can,” you countered flatly, dodging easily as he reached for your wrist again. “Focus.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your necklace, lips quirking slightly. “And my necklace? You’re spoiling me.”

You sighed softly, carefully shifting your weight to block his next move. “You’re hopeless.”

“Only for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice teasingly warm. His eyes glinted playfully. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Barnes,” you muttered quietly, tone sharp. “We’re training.”

He smirked faintly, leaning in closer as he passed you again. “You weren’t complaining when you were hogging the sheets.”

Your eyes narrowed, voice dropping lower. “I’ll smother you with those sheets.”

“Promises, promises,” he teased lightly, moving smoothly behind you again. “Maybe later.”

Across the room, Yelena watched suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “Are they arguing again?”

“Probably,” Ava muttered absently, eyes still on her phone.

John shook his head slowly. “It looks kinda… intense.”

Alexei shrugged cheerfully. “They always intense. Like dramatic spy movie.”

Back on the mats, Bucky’s gaze flicked appreciatively again to your bralette, a faint, smug smile appearing. “Seriously, doll, it’s distracting.”

“Good,” you said flatly, quickly twisting your wrist from his grasp. “Means you’ll lose faster.”

He laughed softly, circling you again, eyes playful. “Harsh.”

“True.”

He lunged suddenly, grabbing your waist firmly, pulling you flush against him. You froze briefly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Barnes,” you growled softly, warning clear. “What did I say?”

He smiled innocently, leaning closer. “I forgot.”

“I’ll remind you later,” you muttered darkly, elbowing him swiftly in the ribs and stepping neatly away.

He winced, laughing quietly, voice low. “Worth it.”

“Gross,” John muttered, shaking his head. “They’re definitely flirting.”

Ava rolled her eyes slightly. “And yet she hasn’t killed him.”

Yelena sighed deeply, irritated. “Yet.”

Bob looked uncertainly toward the mats. “But they fight all the time.”

Alexei chuckled heartily. “Exactly! This called sexual tension, Bob. Very intense.”

You finally stepped back, exhaling slowly, eyes calmly meeting Bucky’s amused gaze. “You’re lucky we have an audience.”

He smiled warmly, eyes softening just for a moment. “I know.”

“Good,” you murmured evenly, stepping smoothly off the mats. “Keep that in mind tonight when you’re begging for mercy.”

Bucky grinned widely, completely unfazed, following casually behind you. “Looking forward to it, sweetheart.”

Yelena glared suspiciously as the two of you passed. “You two have fun?”

You shot her a bland look. “Define fun.”

“Did Barnes survive?”

“For now,” you said flatly, not breaking stride.

Bucky chuckled quietly, nudging you gently. “She’s secretly soft on me.”

“Delusional,” you corrected dryly.

“Right,” Yelena muttered skeptically as you both disappeared down the hall. “Definitely flirting.”

---

“Is that a skirt?” Yelena asked, as you walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

You raised the skirt to reveal the shorts connected underneath. "It's a skort."

Yelena raised her eyebrows, nodding thoughtfully. "Cute."

"Didn't ask," you replied flatly, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

Behind you, John snorted quietly. "Friendly as always."

"Careful," Ava murmured absently. "She might actually kill you this time."

You ignored them, leaning against the counter casually as Bucky stepped quietly into the kitchen, eyes quickly flicking to your skort. He paused briefly, lips curving into a small, smug smile. "Nice outfit," he teased lightly.

You tilted your head calmly, voice utterly neutral. "It was a gift."

Yelena's head whipped toward you suspiciously. "From who?"

You took a sip of water, expression unreadable. "A friend."

"Friend?" John echoed skeptically. "You don't have friends."

"True," Alexei agreed cheerfully. "Scary friend has no friends, only victims."

Bucky chuckled softly, stepping past you and casually leaning in to grab a coffee mug. "Maybe she made an exception."

You glanced sideways at him, voice low. "Don't push it, Barnes."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured softly, barely audible.

Bob furrowed his brow slightly. "Why does Bucky always tease Y/N?"

"Because he has a death wish," Ava replied absently.

"Or," Yelena mused suspiciously, eyes narrowed at you both, "he likes living dangerously."

"Definitely dangerous," Alexei nodded seriously. "Y/N will kill Barnes soon."

"Looking forward to it," you muttered dryly, pushing off from the counter and heading toward the hall. You barely managed two steps before you felt Bucky subtly slide his hand under the skirt, squeezing your ass firmly, hidden perfectly from the team's view.

You shot him a sharp, dangerous glare over your shoulder, voice cold and low. "Barnes."

He grinned smugly, completely unbothered. "Careful, sweetheart."

You huffed irritably, storming away without another word, hearing the team snicker quietly behind you.

"What was that?" Yelena immediately demanded suspiciously.

Bucky shrugged casually, pouring coffee calmly. "No idea."

"She looked pissed," John noted dryly.

"When doesn't she?" Ava muttered flatly.

Alexei laughed cheerfully, shaking his head. "Barnes, one day she'll kill you. Very messy."

Bucky smiled faintly, eyes glinting. "Probably."

Bob tilted his head thoughtfully. "Maybe you should apologize?"

"I'm good," Bucky said lightly, sipping his coffee, smirk still firmly in place.

Yelena sighed dramatically, clearly irritated. "You two are exhausting."

---

Bucky stepped quietly into the bedroom a short while later, closing the door behind him softly. You immediately shot him a sharp look from your spot on the bed, book in hand.

"You're lucky I didn't stab you," you muttered flatly.

He chuckled softly, moving toward you calmly, eyes warm and amused. "Worth the risk."

"Barnes," you warned quietly, gaze narrowed.

He grinned playfully, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "You slapped my ass in front of everyone. Payback was fair."

You scoffed softly, reluctantly relaxing slightly as he settled comfortably beside you. "Barely."

He nudged your shoulder gently, voice teasingly soft. "Admit it. You liked it."

"Keep dreaming," you murmured dryly, turning the page calmly.

Bucky chuckled again, gently pulling your book down to catch your eyes. "Love you too, sweetheart."

"Gross," you muttered quietly, but your voice softened, and your lips twitched faintly.

He smiled warmly, leaning closer to brush his lips against your jawline. "Thanks for wearing the skort."

"You bought it," you reminded him evenly, though your voice lacked its usual edge.

"And it looks perfect," he murmured softly, lips tracing gently along your neck. "Especially on you."

"Bucky," you sighed, eyes falling shut briefly. "Stop."

"You sure?" he teased softly, breath warm against your skin.

You exhaled slowly, head tilting slightly to grant him better access. "No."

He smiled against your skin, fingers sliding gently beneath the hem of the skort again, voice teasing and affectionate. "Didn't think so."

---

The comms crackled softly in your ear as you moved silently through the tree line, keeping low, eyes trained on the compound just up ahead. You and Ava were positioned to sweep the south perimeter while the others flanked the north and secured the intel inside.

"East clear," Yelena’s voice came through. "No movement."

"North entrance is covered," John added. "Alexei’s being loud as usual."

"Strategic loud," Alexei corrected proudly.

“South perimeter’s clear,” Ava said, glancing briefly toward you. “Y/N, you good?”

You gave a silent nod, pressing your back against the stone wall as you signaled for her to hold position. Then the line crackled again—Bucky’s voice came through, strained but still steady. “Contact in the west corridor. I’m good—just grazed.”

There was a pause. Then: “repeat, Barnes is hit,” John confirmed. “Not bad. Just a graze on his side.”

You were already moving. You didn’t say anything—not to Ava, not to the comms. You just moved.

Through the trees, across the clearing, slipping like a shadow through the half-ruined side entrance. You moved fast, but quiet, eyes scanning rapidly for any sign of him.

Behind you, Ava’s voice came faintly through the earpiece. “...Y/N? Where the hell— Y/N, you were supposed to hold south!”

"She’s gone," Yelena muttered over comms. "Of course she’s gone."

Alexei chuckled into the line. "Perhaps vampire instincts. She senses blood."

You ignored them all.

The compound’s west wing was dim and empty, light filtering in through broken windows and high beams. You rounded a corner and spotted him almost immediately—leaning heavily against the wall, one hand pressed to his side, blood staining the fabric of his black combat shirt.

His head snapped up when he saw you. “What are you—?” You crossed the space in seconds, grabbing his wrist and yanking it away to inspect the wound. “It’s fine,” he started.

You pulled a cloth from your pocket, pressing it against the wound firmly, your movements efficient and practiced. “You didn’t call it in yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, breath shallow. “Because it’s not a big deal.”

"Wrong," you said flatly, pulling out a small field med kit.

He chuckled quietly, grimacing slightly as you cleaned the wound. “You ditched your post for me, sweetheart?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

His eyes softened slightly, voice dropping. “You worried?” You didn’t answer, just wrapped the bandage tight and clean, your jaw tense. He tilted his head slightly, voice lower now, just for you. “You know you’re supposed to act normal in front of the others, not go rogue.”

“You got hit,” you muttered, standing and pulling him up carefully. “Don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

He smirked, even as he winced. “That’s my girl.”

"Shut up, Barnes," you muttered, hooking an arm under his. "You’re limping."

He leaned into you slightly, lips brushing your ear. “You know I like it when you go feral for me.”

“Keep talking and I’ll reopen the wound.”

He grinned, despite the pain. “Totally worth it.”

“Let’s go,” you muttered, guiding him back toward the rendezvous point. “Before someone sees.”

Bucky smirked. “Married life suits you.”

“Don’t push it, Barnes.”

He smiled wider. “Love you too.”

---

Back at the Watchtower, the common area was thick with tension. John paced irritably, gesturing wildly as the rest of the team lounged around the room, silently watching the spectacle unfold. "You can't just leave your position, Y/N," John snapped, frustration clear. "You compromised the whole operation!"

You stood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, your gaze coldly indifferent.

Ava sighed softly. "Walker, it wasn't that serious—"

"It was reckless," John interrupted sharply. "She ran off like some amateur because Barnes got a scratch!"

Alexei chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe scratch was deeper than we think."

Yelena's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Still weird for her to lose control like that."

You stayed quiet, expression unchanging.

"Seriously, Y/N," John pressed irritably. "I know you're protective of Barnes for some weird reason, but you can't put the rest of us in danger."

Bucky shifted slightly, opening his mouth to say something, but you shot him a brief, silent look—he shut it again immediately.

Bob blinked, genuinely confused. "Wait, what happened?"

"Y/N ran off," Ava clarified dryly. "Apparently, Barnes got grazed, and she just abandoned everything."

Bob's brow furrowed deeper. "Is that... bad?"

"Yes, Bob," John said flatly. "It's very bad."

Alexei grinned, nudging Bob cheerfully. "Perhaps vampire protective of favorite victim."

Bob's eyes widened uncertainly. "Barnes is a victim?"

Yelena sighed deeply. "Focus, Bob."

"Look," John snapped, turning back toward you again, clearly determined. "All I'm saying is—"

You finally moved—quickly, fluidly—crossing the space between you and Bucky before anyone could even register what was happening. You grabbed a fistful of Bucky’s shirt, yanking him roughly forward. His eyes widened briefly in surprise—then quickly darkened in amusement as your lips crashed firmly onto his.

The room fell utterly silent.

Bucky didn't hesitate, melting immediately into the kiss, his metal hand gently gripping your waist. He smiled faintly against your lips, clearly pleased.

When you finally pulled back, you released him casually, stepping back to your previous spot against the wall. Your expression was cool and completely neutral as your eyes calmly flicked over the stunned faces of the entire team.

"Shit," Alexei finally breathed, breaking the silence. "Did not see that coming."

John just stared, speechless.

Yelena blinked, then slowly nodded. "Okay. That explains... a lot."

Bob smiled faintly, clearly pleased. "That's nice."

Ava raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely impressed. "Well, that’s one way to shut everyone up."

You said nothing, arms crossing again as you leaned back against the wall, expression perfectly indifferent.

Bucky cleared his throat softly, lips curving into a smug grin as he glanced around the room. "Any other questions?"

John opened his mouth—then closed it again, shaking his head. "Nope."

Yelena sighed dramatically. "Finally. About damn time."

Bob glanced around uncertainly. "So... they're dating?"

Alexei chuckled loudly, clearly entertained. "Apparently, Bob."

You sighed quietly, eyes narrowing slightly. "We're married, actually."

Another stunned silence filled the room. Bucky smiled brightly, clearly amused by everyone's shocked expressions. "Surprise."

John rubbed his face tiredly. "You've got to be kidding me."

Alexei beamed proudly. "Knew it. Romance always wins."

Yelena glared pointedly at Bucky. "Barnes. You realize you could've told us earlier, right?"

Bucky shrugged casually, eyes sparkling. "Where's the fun in that?"

You rolled your eyes faintly, settling comfortably next to him, arms still crossed.

Bob smiled again, more warmly this time. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Bob," Bucky replied cheerfully, sliding an arm comfortably around your waist. "At least someone here is supportive."

Ava raised an eyebrow skeptically. "How long exactly?"

You sighed quietly, voice flat. "Long enough."

John shook his head again, clearly irritated. "You're both impossible."

Bucky laughed softly, pulling you a bit closer. "And you’re welcome."

Alexei clapped enthusiastically. "Tonight, we celebrate! For secret marriage and vampire love story!"

"Please don't," you muttered dryly.

Bucky chuckled warmly, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Too late, doll." You shot him a warning glance, but your lips twitched faintly into a hidden smile.

The team was quiet again, watching you both thoughtfully. Finally, Yelena spoke again, voice resigned. "Well," she sighed dramatically, glancing at John. "Guess we were wrong."

"Painfully wrong," John muttered irritably.

You raised an eyebrow pointedly. "Satisfied now?"

John sighed heavily, eyes rolling upward. "Fine. You win."

You relaxed slightly against Bucky’s side, voice calm. "Good."

Bucky leaned in slightly, lips brushing your ear gently. "That was hot."

You glared sideways at him, voice low. "Behave."

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured softly, grinning widely.

Across the room, Alexei chuckled again, clearly delighted. "I told you all. Always romance. Very predictable."

Ava shook her head slowly, smiling faintly. "Congratulations, I guess."

Yelena narrowed her eyes at you again, voice dry. "You realize we’ll still tease you mercilessly, right?"

Bucky smiled warmly, completely unbothered. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

You sighed softly, settling more comfortably against him, clearly resigned. "Great."

Bob looked genuinely pleased, smiling warmly at you both. "You guys look good together."

"Thanks, Bob," you muttered dryly, shooting Bucky another pointed look. "At least someone's happy."

"I'm ecstatic," Bucky teased lightly, squeezing your waist affectionately.

You rolled your eyes faintly, but leaned comfortably against his side, silently content.

Yelena sighed dramatically again, leaning back heavily into her chair. "Finally, we can move on with our lives."

Alexei clapped cheerfully again, utterly delighted. "Yes! Celebrate tonight!"

John crossed his arms, staring pointedly at you as he sat down on the chair. “You’re both very annoying.”

You shrugged slightly, unbothered. “And?”

He rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “Just don’t do anything disgusting in the common areas.”

You stared at him, eyes blinking slowly before you pushed yourself off the wall. “Might not want to sit on that chair then.”

John’s eyes widened dramatically as he immediately stood up, practically leaping from the chair. "Oh, come on!"

Yelena snorted, looking both amused and disgusted. "Please tell me that’s a joke."

You shrugged calmly, expression entirely unreadable. "Believe whatever you want."

Bucky’s lips twitched slightly into a smirk. "She warned you."

Alexei chuckled loudly, clearly delighted. "I told you all—secret romance always most exciting."

Bob glanced uncertainly toward John, clearly confused. "Is the chair dangerous now?"

John shuddered slightly. "You really don’t wanna know, Bob."

Ava shook her head slowly, muttering quietly. "I regret everything."

You turned toward the hall, clearly done with the conversation. "I’m going to my room."

Yelena’s voice called after you suspiciously. "Which room is yours exactly, Y/N?"

You paused briefly, glancing over your shoulder calmly. "The one I sleep in."

John crossed his arms irritably. "So, Barnes’ room."

Bucky smiled brightly, clearly amused. "My door is always open."

"Gross," Yelena muttered flatly.

Alexei laughed loudly, utterly entertained. "Barnes, I like your style."

Bucky gave an exaggerated bow, playful smirk firmly in place. "Appreciate it, Alexei."

You sighed quietly, clearly irritated. "Barnes. Let’s go."

He followed immediately, falling easily into step beside you. As you both disappeared down the hallway, Yelena’s voice carried after you. "You’re welcome for finally outing you, by the way!"

Bucky chuckled quietly, glancing toward you affectionately. "That went well."

"Shut up," you muttered dryly.

"You’re cute when you’re annoyed."

You stopped briefly, leveling him with a cool stare. "You realize I could still stab you?"

Bucky smiled fondly, completely unbothered. "You wouldn’t. You like me too much."

You sighed softly, reluctantly relaxing. "Unfortunately."

He grinned widely, gently nudging you forward again. "Come on, doll. Your room awaits."

"Our room," you corrected flatly.

"Right," he said warmly, clearly pleased. "Our room."

Behind you, the distant sound of Alexei loudly celebrating echoed down the hall.

just a little thing to say: i wrote bob with the intention of him actually knowing they were married, and all the questions he was asking was him trying to get the team to also question bucky and reader's relationship.

i also have a part two in the works!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #yelena belova #ava starr #alexei shostakov #john walker #bob reynolds

4K notes · View notes

rafessecret · 19 days ago

Note

Older rafe and younger y/n

Y/n locking her legs around him making him cum inside of her

⋆˚࿔ younger¡ reader && older¡rafe cameron

CUM IN ME RAFE.

You’re younger, but not a kid. Just fresh—soft in all the ways Rafe isn’t. You’ve got that glowy, untouched look about you. Big eyes, glossy lips, thighs kissed with baby oil and sunshine. You still giggle when you talk. Still blush when he says something dirty. Still wear those little skirts that barely graze your thighs and shirts so small they rise when you reach for anything. You look like sin and feel like heaven, and Rafe’s a man who’s spent too long pretending he doesn’t notice.

But tonight? He’s not pretending.

You’re in your bed, tangled in cotton sheets and innocence, and Rafe’s over you, heavy, hot, thick cock buried deep in your slick, needy cunt. His shirt is still on, bunched at the elbows, sleeves damp with sweat. You’re naked but for the bracelet he bought you last week. Pink crystals. Baby charm.

He knows better.

He shouldn’t be here. Not inside you. Not with your legs hooked high around his waist, back arching up like your body was made to take him. You’re sweet, soft, and still new to all this. And Rafe? He’s seen too much. Touched too much. He’s a man with lines carved deep in his skin and darker ones in his past.

But God, you make it so easy.

You whimper beneath him, glossy lips parted, head tilted back as you tighten your legs around his hips—ankles locking behind him like you’re afraid he’ll leave. Like you need him to stay. Like the thought of being empty again terrifies you.

Rafe groans, hips stuttering, cock thick and aching deep in your soaked, fluttering cunt. Your pussy clamps around him like a vice, greedy and throbbing, all slick heat and pulsing desperation. ❝Don’t,❞ he breathes, voice frayed and breaking apart. ❝Baby, I’m close. I have to—fuck—I have to pull out.❞

You shake your head, shameless, drunk on it. ❝Don’t want you to.❞ You’re barely even whispering. ❝Want it. Want you to cum inside.❞ He stares down at you like you’ve cursed him. Like you’ve just ripped open his chest and crawled inside. His brows are pinched tight. His thrusts go shallow. His jaw clenches like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

❝What?❞ he growls. ❝Please, Rafe. I want it. Want to feel it.❞ Your fingers press into his back; your lips brush his throat. Your voice is syrup-sweet and ruined. He curses again, jaw ticking, breathing ragged. ❝Are you on the pill? Fuck, tell me you’re on the fucking pill.❞ You nod. Slowly. ❝Mhm. I am.❞

But he sees it—the way your lips twitch, the breath you skip, the way your cunt clenches even tighter around him, like it’s lying too. Like it wants it more than anything. ❝You sure?❞ he asks, panting. His eyes dark, fixed to yours. ❝Because if I stay in you, if I fucking cum in this tight little pussy—you’re mine. Do you understand me? Mine.❞ You nod again, breath catching. ❝I already am.❞

And that’s it. That’s the thing that rips the last bit of restraint from his body. He fucks forward hard—deep—his cock dragging against every slick, clenching inch inside you, splitting you open, filling you so full you swear you feel it in your belly. He ruts against your cervix, and you gasp, head thrown back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels.

❝Fuck, baby,❞ he groans, nose brushing yours, his voice breaking. ❝You feel that stretch? That’s me, sweetheart. That’s my cock pushing so deep it’s showing through your tummy.❞ And you do—you can feel it. One of his big hands slides between your bodies, pressing to your lower stomach where you’re bulging just slightly. He curses low. You moan higher.

❝You’re so fucking tight, baby. Fuck—your pussy’s fluttering.❞ His eyes roll as he ruts into you deeper, harder, more desperate now. ❝Like it’s milking me. Like it fucking needs it.❞ You whine, high and broken. ❝It does. I do. Rafe—please.❞

It’s all so wet. The sounds are obscene. Skin slapping. Your whimpers. His grunts. The sloppy squelch every time he drags it out of you just to slam right back in. You’re gasping now, clinging to him, legs shaking as that heat coils tighter, hotter, meaner. ❝Come inside,❞ you cry, your voice cracking. ❝Please, Rafe. I want to feel it. Want to feel you fill me up.❞ He breaks.

He shouts your name, hips stuttering as he bottoms out, cock twitching, and then he’s flooding you—thick, hot, endless. You feel it spill deep, feel it leak out around the base of his cock even as he keeps grinding into you, milking every last drop. It’s too much. You shatter with him, orgasm crashing over you as your cunt squeezes him impossibly tight.

Your back arches. Your body trembles. You sob his name, nails dragging down his shoulders, mouth open in a silent scream. He holds you there through it all, buried deep, whispering filth against your cheek. When it’s over, you’re both wrecked. Panting. Slick with sweat, cum and heat. Rafe slumps over you, arms trembling, breath shaky as he presses kisses to your cheek, your jaw, and your swollen lips. ❝Fuck, baby… fuck. Look at you.❞

He pulls out slowly, and you both hiss at the mess. His cum drips out of your swollen, red pussy, thick and shiny, painting your thighs, the sheets, everything. You look ruined. Precious. Marked. He groans again. ❝You know what you just did?❞ he asks, brushing your hair back. ❝You just made me yours. Forever.❞

And you smile up at him—eyes soft, lashes fluttering, still trembling—with your legs wide open and his cum leaking out of you like you’ve never been more proud. And when he finally lifts his head, when his eyes meet yours, there’s something dark there. ❝You lied, didn’t you?❞ You blink, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. He smirks. Leans in, mouth brushing your neck. ❝Doesn’t matter. You’re mine now anyway.❞

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : thanks anon! not sure if this was meant for a specific au, but oh well, hope you like it! <3

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

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mssorceressupreme · 4 months ago

Text

Hate and Love | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: in the mission of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow, you and Fred get thrown off-track as his broom breaks, resulting in an overnight detour at a hotel.

Warnings/content: minors DNI 18+, halfblood!reader, One Bed Trope, enemies to lovers, boner!alert, oral!freceiving, p in v, grumpy x sunshine (if u squint), raw penetration (wrap it plz), cumming inside, orgasm denial, fluffy ending, fighting death eaters, dom!fred, sub!reader

Wordcount: 5.8k

———

You stood near the wall, arms crossed, in the house of number four Privet Drive, the place where it all began for one of your closest friends, Harry Potter. The group of you were gathered in the empty living room, discussing the highly dangerous plan of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow.

Beside you stood the twins, listening intently as Mad-Eye Moody instructed orders.

Seven of them had just taken polyjuice potion, resulting in seven 'Harry's', all in accordance with Moody's plan.

“Right then, we’ll be pairing off. Each ‘Potter’ will have a protector and to make it simpler for you, I'll choose the pairs.” His mismatched eyes scanned the group, assigning pairs, and an aggravating pit settled in your stomach once Moody called out your name, “Y/N, you're with Fred.”

Your head snapped toward Fred, who groaned audibly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He muttered, but George nudged him softly, urging him to be tolerable while they changed out of their regular clothes.

“Yeah yeah, happy to be paired up with you too.” you rolled your eyes, the sarcasm in your tone apparent.

Fred and you had never gotten along. Since your days at Hogwarts, the two of you had been like oil and water—always at odds. He thought you were too uptight, too rule-abiding, while you found him utterly insufferable, reckless, and far too smug for his own good.

But for Harry, you’d endure today. He'd done a great deal to help you throughout your years at Hogwarts, so it was only fair of you to return the favour.

“Head for the Burrows, we’ll rendezvous there!” Moody finished. The room stirred with movement as everyone prepared for what was to come.

Outside, the night air was cool as you mounted Fred’s broom behind him. The scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy, hit your nose, and you hated that you thought it smelled decent, inhaling a bit more. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist, well, 'Harry's' waist.

Fred stiffened slightly at your touch, “Don’t get too comfortable back there.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t.”

Before you could snap back another remark, he kicked off into the sky, soaring above London, splitting up from the others.

Everything was eerily silent for a few moments. The flight seemed too smooth for your liking. You kept an alert eye, constantly scanning your surroundings.

You caught a shadow in the corner of your eye, and you whipped your head around, squinting your eyes at the figure in the dark.

"What the..." You muttered.

"Fred go faster...." You ordered, losing sight of the shadowy figure.

"Why don't you come fly the broom then." He retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Fred! I"m serious!" You yelled, gripping his waist tighter, as he exhaled before picking up the pace.

"In case you forgot, I need to be able to breathe to fly this thing properly." He grunted as you practically squeezed every breath out of him.

"Right, sorry," You loosened your grip ever so slightly, "...it's just, I swear I saw something."

You turned around again, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure. The shadow was no longer a mystery figure but a person, or, three people rather.

Death Eaters.

"Oh shit! Fred! They're here!" You took your wand out and began fighting with them.

Spells shot through the night, streaks of green and blue illuminating the sky like a twisted fireworks display. The death eaters had appeared out of nowhere, zooming in, attacking viciously as they trailed behind you on their brooms.

“They’re following us!” you shouted over the wind, turning back around to gauge Fred.

“Oh, really? Thought we were just out for a lovely evening flight,” he shot back sarcastically, dodging a hex just in time.

You rolled your eyes but focused on firing spells behind you, hitting one death eater square in the chest and sending him spiralling downward.

"Stupefy!" You shouted, casting the second death eater off his broom. Two down, one to go.

Just as you felt a moment of victory, another spell whizzed past, striking the broom.

The wood splintered with a sickening crack. "Uhh, Fred?" You called out, glancing at the broom.

“Hold on—” Fred barely got the words out before the broom snapped completely, and the two of you plummeted toward the Thames River.

You hit the water hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. You kicked frantically, breaking the surface and gasping for air. The coolness of the water had your body in shock, shivering as you forced yourself to stay afloat.

Fred emerged a second later, coughing.

Glancing above, you saw the third death eater laughing maliciously as he flew off, leaving you and Fred. He must've figured it wasn't the real Harry, given that you called him 'Fred'.

“Great! Look what you’ve done!” you accused, treading water furiously.

“What I’ve done?! That was you—you were supposed to be fighting them off!” he retorted, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He had transformed back into his original self, the fiery redhead Fred you knew.

You groaned, swimming toward the embankment where a set of stone stairs led to dry land. Your fingers were frozen as you pulled yourself up, collapsing onto the pavement. Fred followed, shaking out his drenched hair like a dog.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant,” you muttered, clutching one-half of the broken broom while he had the other. “Now how are we supposed to get to the others?”

Fred sighed, pushing his hair back. “Let’s just go somewhere dry first.”

You nodded begrudgingly, too cold and exhausted to argue.

When you emerged from the river, it was given that pedestrians would stare at the two of you strangely. Swimming in the Thames River wasn't exactly the most normal thing to do, let alone at this hour.

Though, in this particular instance, more of them were starring at you, rather than Fred.

Fred cleared his throat, eyes darting down to your chest then back up before averting his eyes immediately.

You furrowed your brows, glancing down, only to remember that you were wearing a white shirt along with the worst possible undergarment to pair with it, a black bra.

You felt your cheeks heat up, as you covered your chest, "Let's just go..."

Fred shook his head, taking off the grey jacket he wore and putting it over you, "Here."

Though still wet, it offered the coverage you much needed and you were entirely grateful. "Thanks." You muttered softly, as you two began walking.

"Figured you wouldn't want to walk around flashing the whole of London."

The two of you walked in silence as you tried to figure out a way to get to the others. “We can apparate—” he started.

“Absolutely not. There are muggles everywhere,” you snapped, nodding to the late-night pedestrians strolling along the streets.

Fred scoffed, shooting you an eye-roll. “Alright, Professor McGonagall.”

You ignored him, scanning the area. A small, dingy-looking hotel caught your eye. Without another word, you trudged toward it, Fred trailing behind. The receptionist, a bored-looking woman in her mid 40s, barely glanced up as you approached the desk.

The hotel looked cheap enough for an overnight stay. All you needed to do was clear your mind and get a good night's rest before figuring things out in the morning; yes, that sounded ideal to you right this moment.

“Two rooms, please,” you said firmly.

She tapped at the keyboard, chewing on some gum as she did so. “We’re fully booked.”

Your heart sank. “What about one room? With two beds?”

"Sorry, we're full." She continued typing, then clicking on the mouse as she looked around the screen, "It's peak season honey, we're always maxed out."

"Please you've got to have at least one room, with two beds, anything?" You pleaded, desperate for whatever you could acquire.

"We'll take whatever we can get, you've got to have something." Fred added, backing you up as he stood closer to you.

She checked again, then looked at you, eyes lighting up. “Ah, it seems that we do have one left with two beds, but the heating is broken, that's why we didn't offer it to customers. Actually, I was supposed to call the maintenance guy, but he's my ex, you see, so it's a bit of a rough story. I always thought he loved me, you know, how could someone not, I mean look at me? I'm gorgeous. He was supposed to come by today but we—”

"We'll take it!" Fred interjected swiftly, clearly exhausted. "Thank you."

Relief flooded you as you he paid with muggle money. You were surprised he even had some on hand, but after all, he was a businessman.

"Interesting, all this muggle stuff eh?" Fred mused, as you both entered the lift, his eyes darting around as he observed his surroundings.

"I suppose so, yeah. I guess I was lucky enough to be born a half-blood, you get the best of both worlds." You shrugged, as though hotels and 'muggle elevators' were the most natural thing in the world.

"Alright then, you lead the way, Ms expert." He mocked, gesturing for you to lead the way once the doors opened.

You scoff softly, marching down the hallway before finding your room number. Fred reaches seconds after you, looping his arm around your body to swipe the keycard.

He placed an arm on the door to open it, letting you in first before closing it after he entered.

But the moment you entered the room, your jaw dropped.

One bed.

“What? She said there were two beds.” You blinked, looking around the room in confusion.

“She must’ve meant the couch,” Fred said, nodding toward the small, lumpy-looking couch a few inches beside the bed, by the window.

You swallowed, “Right, well, who's sleeping where?” Honestly, at this point, you didn't even mind taking the couch, as long as you could get some rest.

Fred's eyes darted from the bed to the couch, exhaling exasperatedly before finally looking at you, "I'll take the couch."

"I didn't know Fred Weasley had manners?" You gasped, faking your amusement.

He shot you a glare, grabbing a towel as he did so, "Could you be any more aggravating?"

You tried to think of a witty comeback, something, anything to get a reaction out of him. But alas, you were lost for words. He did have a point though.

Come to think about it, you realised that you might've only been behaving this way because you were not used to him being so much of a...gentleman. This was foreign to you.

"I'll have the first shower." He shifts past you, nudging your shoulder, which sends heat through your bodies temporarily.

“Be my guest.”

You hear the lock shut, and seconds later, the water starts running.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took in your surroundings. This was no five-star hotel, but it was presentable and decent enough for an overnight stay. The walls are dark grey, with ambient lighting all around the room. Navy blue sheets grace the double bed, with a soft brown leather footer in contrast. There is a tea tray and a kettle, on top of the dark brown desk that sat in the corner of the room.

Minutes later, the door clicks and unlocks.

Fred steps out, a white towel hanging around his waist. His hair is wet, and his body glistening with water droplets. Your eyes couldn't help but drift down, his body was incredible defined, a stark contrast to your school days when he was merely a boy, now, he was a man.

Oh, he definitely works out. You noticed his arms, much larger and buffer than they used to be.

"All yours." He jerked his chin to the bathroom.

You gulped, brushing past him before hurriedly entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Wow, since when did Fred Weasley get so, attractive?

The hot water was a blessing, washing away the cold. You stood under the steamy shower for a couple of minutes, taking in as much warmth as you could.

With no new clothes to change into, you wrapped yourself in the plush hotel bathrobe, sighing in frustration. It appears there was only a kids sized one left, and you had no choice but to wear it. Whatever, it’ll do the job for tonight.

You hung your wet clothes on one of the bathroom racks, and you saw that Fred did the same, you placed your clothes beside his.

You were humming to yourself when you stepped out, relieved to be in some dry clothes, dancing a little as you strolled to the bed.

When he heard you walking, Fred glanced up, something flickering in his expression, though you're not quite sure what.

“That bathrobe is way too small for you." He remarks, laying with his legs out on the couch, two arms behind his head as he rests.

"What was I supposed to do, wear my wet clothes to sleep?" You respond as you hop into bed, tugging the covers and snuggling in.

"It could be an enlightening experience." He hummed, as he shut his eyes, adjusting himself on the couch.

"You try it then." You counter, scoffing at his idiocy.

The curtains are drawn, and the lights are dim. Silence fills the room as you both unwind for the evening. Before you shut the lights from the switch beside your bed, you call out, "I'm going to off the lights now, need anything before I turn them off?"

"Yeah actually..." He perks his head up, turning to face you.

"What?" You ask, listening keenly.

"For you to be quiet." A small smile played on his lips as he laid back down.

You rolled your eyes, before hitting the lights.

"Good night." He cooed.

You lay there, tossing and turning, but you couldn't seem to fall asleep for the life of you. It didn't help that the room was so cold, due to the heater being unfixed.

Minutes passed in silence before you turned your head slightly. Fred was stretched out on the tiny couch, his long legs dangling uncomfortably over the armrest.

It was evident that he was way too tall to fit on all that, he did not look the slightest bit comfortable.

“See something you like?” Fred smirked, feeling your stare though his eyes were shut.

“What? No! I was just—”

“Just what? Admiring this handsome face?”

"Honestly Fred, how conceited are you?" You sat up now, shooting daggers at him. As much as you hated to admit it, he was, in fact, handsome. Annoyingly so.

Truth be told, had he not been so irritating, you might've actually considered dating him.

You loved the Weasleys, Ginny was like a sister to you, Ron, your close friend, George, always on the lookout for you. He even took you down to Hogsmeade for a meal and bought you treats when you cried over one of the Slytherin boys rejecting you back in your fourth year.

But Fred, oh Fred, you could never see eye to eye with him. You only ever tolerated him because his family was so warm and welcoming.

A tiny part of you felt guilty that he was forced onto the couch, despite being the one that paid for the room.

You wanted to offer the place beside you to him, seeing that the bed was larger than anticipated once you were actually tucked in.

"Well you are staring, something you need?" He countered, his eyes are still shut, arms still behind his head.

"Well, I was thinking...." You hesitated, "well, you could sleep on the bed. It's actually more spacious than I thought."

His brows shot up, and he opened his eyes, turning to face you. “In the bed? With you?”

“Don’t make it weird, Fred,” you huffed. “The couch looks uncomfortable.”

"Are you, being nice to me?" He teased, the urge to take back your offer growing stronger.

"Don't make me change my mind, Weasley."

After a beat, he groaned. “Fine. But don’t hog the covers.”

"Please I sleep like a log, it's not like I'm going to cuddle you or anything."

"Cuddle me eh?" He mused.

"Not bloody likely, besides you're too annoying to be my type." You retort.

Fred stood up, walking to the other side of the bed. He slid in beside you, and the bed suddenly felt too small. You kept your back to him, but quickly got up and put one of the spare pillows between you.

"See this line? Don't cross it and you're good." You commanded, and he chuckled lightly,

"Alright alright." He raised in hands.

You turned away from him, back to him as you attempted to fall asleep. You hadn't realised how far you were from him, you were practically tipping over the edge of the bed.

You scooted inside a little, bumping into the pillow wall you put.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, you sighed in defeat. The room was cold, and the blankets were not much help.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were the only one awake. You extended your arm behind you, trying to find the pillow 'wall' you had put up. But with all the tossing and turning from the two of you, the pillow must've slipped out of place and down the lower half of the bed somewhere.

As you extended your arm behind you, you accidentally came into contact with Fred's back, and he shifted slightly before turning to face you instead.

It's dark, almost pitch black, but with the small glimmer of light, you can see that his eyes are shut. Curious you called out, "Fred?" you whispered. "Are you awake?"

"I am now, no thanks to you." He fluttered his eyes open, facing you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see if—"

"Don't be." He sighed, "Couldn't sleep a wink either. This room is bloody cold."

"The blankets aren't doing anything." You exhaled, agreeing, before an idea popped into you head.

"This might sound silly, but, if we revert back to old fashioned methods, we could, um—actually it's stupid, nevermind." You began, but quickly dismissed it.

"Go on, I'd like to hear what genius solution you've come up with."

"It's dumb, I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." He replied.

You hesitated again before suggesting, “We could—uh—use body heat.”

He stared at you momentarily, it looked as though he thought about it, considering it before responding, “Absolutely not.”

"Okay, whatever, I just thought it was a feasible option. These robes aren't exactly pyjama material either." You say, trying to tighten your robes, with the hopes of warming up your body.

You both fell into silence again your back facing him once more, before Fred spoke up, "Come here."

"What?" You turned around.

"I suppose, we could try the body heat thing."

"Oh so now you want to try my idea?" You raise your brow, scoffing as you shift over slowly, and he extended his arm, pulling you in.

"Don't get any ideas, I just need to sleep and call it a day." You firmly spoke, pressing your back to him, as he faced you. You felt his heat, no doubt, it was working, and you were starting to warm up. In all the places apparently, your cheeks, and an area of yours down there. Your heart pounded as his hand rested against your back, his breath tickling your ear.

"Let's do shoulder-to-shoulder." You suggested, trying to hide your flustered-ness.

He didn't argue, respecting your decision. The two of you lay there, facing the ceiling as your shoulders touched. Though not as warm as before, it was still warmer at least.

You turned your head, Fred's face illuminated by the dim light coming through from the curtains, his jawline ever so chiselled. Merlin, he was undoubtedly a handsome chap. You shut your eyes, trying, yet again to enter a slumber.

As you laid there, eyes shut, Fred opened his, gauging you. He smiled softly as he took in your features, rolling his eyes fondly as he saw you breathing slowly.

You swore you were about to cast some sort of sleeping spell, because you still could not fall asleep for the life of you. You keep moving, accidentally brushing against Fred's body countless times but you couldn't help it, you needed to find a comfortable position.

You move your arm around the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position for yourself until you accidentally graze something, unexpected.

You freeze.

Did you actually just graze that?

Was he....?

You slowly turned to face him, your body merely an inch away from his. You see him shut his eyes, heavily breathing, his Adam's apple bopping up and down from swallowing hard.

"Would you quit moving so much?" He whispered, trying to contain himself.

"I....Fred, I didn't mean to." You pause. "You're still awake?"

"10 points to Y/H (your house), captain obvious."

You furrow your brows, turning on the bedside lamp which offered the tiniest bit of ambient light in the dark room.

Your gaze flickered down, and well, you saw, a little friend poking up from the sheets beneath him.

"Is that, because of m—" You swallowed not daring to finish the sentence, looking at his hard on. "I'm sorry shouldn't have moved so much."

"Alright, it's okay, it's not a big deal, so what it's normal right. I didn't mean to accidentally keep grazing or grinding on you, I was merely trying to find a comfortable position. Listen, I'm not weirded out or anything, you can go sort it out. Who am I to judge? This time tomorrow we'll all be at the burrow and I'll be sharing a room with Ginny and 'Mione, so it's fine, we can—" You began ranting out of nervousness, but Fred had enough, opening his eyes to sit up with you,

"Merlin, Y/N. Ranting like you're so innocent, moving around like that? On me?" He leans in closer, growling, "I bet you'd really want to know what got me provoked in the first place, yeah?"

You gulped, inspecting his features as he leaned in closer to you, now an inch apart, "You aggravate me, pushing my damn buttons all the bloody time. Maybe if you weren't such a whiny brat complaining about everything, I would've fucked you an hour ago till you were silenced.” He ranted before continuing,

“You want to know what got me so hard? You waltzing around in those darn bathrobes that are far too small, exposing every inch of your body, your cleavage is practically begging to be seen. I can't keep my fucking eyes off you. Ever since Hogwarts, it was always you, grating on my last nerves. I thought I hated you so, until I realised that there was a fine line between hate and attraction."

"Fred..." your eyelids flutter; how did his voice get so low and sensual? You could feel yourself throbbing, growing wetter by the minute, and you found yourself growing more needy for him.

"Bloody hell Y/N, you've got me wrapped around the irritating finger of yours."

"Just shut up and kiss me Fred." You breathlessly whisper, not realising that you'd been holding your breath the entire time.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, he wasted no time pouncing on you. His hand is behind your neck and he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering on top of you.

Fred's lips meet yours furiously, desperately, never in your life has someone kissed you this passionately before. You open your mouth, and he slides his tongue in, a desirous clash of tongues. He savours every inch of your mouth and it makes you wonder how long he's been wanting to do this for.

"May I?" He asks for permission as he tugs at the belt of your bathrobe.

You nod, too breathless to speak as you gaze up at him. Fred undoes your robes, leaving you clothe-less on the bed. He does the same, kneeling between your legs which are spread open and on either side of his waist. You subconsciously give him doe-eyes as he does so, merlin, he looked so deliciously attractive.

"So fucking beautiful, all this hidden from me all these years?" He leans down and gently kisses your neck while gripping your waist, sucking on a sensitive spot which earns a moan from you.

"Going to leave hickey's on you so everyone knows you're mine gorgeous."

"Who said I was yours?" Every so daring you retort, though you lacked conviction.

He chuckled lowly before sucking on another sensitive spot, leaving a reddish mark on you, "Fred..." you moan again. His kisses grow more wet and fervent as he plants kisses trailing down your body. His hands move from your waist to your breasts, massaging them gently as he continues further down your body.

You're barely able to control the obscene moans slipping from your mouth, any attempts at suppressing them growing more difficult by the second. You didn't even care that people around you might hear.

"You're soaking wet, and yet you say you're not mine." Fred cooed, his eyes glued to your heat, coated with glistening wetness.

You revel in the fact that he can barely take his eyes off you, you glance at him, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust. Once he catches sight of your lustful eyes, desperate for him, he can't tear his gaze away from you. He slowly leans down, sensually licking your coated slick.

Your sensitive cunt throbs even harder upon the contact from his tongue, "Fred please..." You whine, throwing your head back onto the pillow.

He traces the shape of your vulva, pressing kitten licks on your needy clit, causing your legs to clamp around his head. He doesn't break eye-contact, as he continues to work his mouth around your core.

He continues sucking your clit, his tongue working his way on your swollen pearl.

You tangle your hands in his head, tugging lightly. Your body can't help but arch into his face due to the overwhelming pleasure, as he continues indulging in your cunt. "Merlin Fred!" You cry out as he suckles on a particularly sensitive spot.

"You taste so damn good love, so sweet unlike that bitter mouth, hm?"

"I'm yours Fred....all yours..." You whimper, succumbing to his words.

"Say that again." His voice low, commanding, you could feel the heat from his mouth near your throbbing cunt.

"I'm yours, Fred." You moan, as he continues straight into your core.

The feeling is heavenly, both hands tangled in his red locks as he gives you the most pleasant head you've ever felt in your life. Once he stops assaulting your clit, he lifts his head and faces you, his eyes smiling up at you, as though you are the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

Oh, you're so close, tilting over the edge of something mind-blowing. He leans down and gives your clit a few more kitten licks, planting soft kisses before pulling away, just as you were about to cum.

"Don't stop," you whimper, "I was so close...."

"Fred?" You plead, again, but he sits up and crawls to you, now hovering over you his hands on either side of your head. "Please let me cum...."

"You will, darling." He cooes, leaning down to your ear, "Around my cock."

You felt yourself throbbing yet again, upon his words. What the hell was he doing to you, causing you to feel this weak beneath him? This powerless? Your sharp, witty tongue, nowhere in sight.

"Please Fred, I need you." You whine, begging him for more.

"What ever happened to, 'I despise you'?" He hovered over you and you sat up, meeting his lips. Giving him a passionate, hungry kiss before pulling away,

"There is a fine line between hate and love, and I think today I've learnt that you've been sitting in the wrong category all along."

He smiled, brushing a hand on your cheek as he gazed down at you lovingly, "Took me so long to realise that you're the only person I've ever felt something with."

"Took us bloody ages." You roll your eyes fondly, before giggling as he pecked your forehead gently.

You gazed up at him with doe-eyes, and him down at you, to your lips then back up, his mouth parted slightly as he took in how breathtaking you looked beneath him. Shit, you were always beautiful to him, he'd only now realised.

"Need you inside me Fred." You plead softly, desperately, which only fuelled his desire for you even more.

"Anything for you, love."

You never thought you'd admit it, but he has a fucking incredible dick. You assumed he'd be packing because he was 6"3, but the sight of it made you drool. Bloody hell, he had every right to be so smug.

His slit was already leaking with precum, his eyes lock onto yours as he lowers himself. Your legs are still on each side of his waist, he grabs his dick and teases it along your wet entrance, sliding it a few times to coat it with your slickness.

You involuntarily buck your hips, desperate for penetration as you whimper. He slowly lowers himself down, and finally into you.

At first, you hiss at the pain upon being stretched out by his hugeness, you could feel him stretching your walls, registering that fact that he was fully inside you now.

"Fuck...." he moans, letting out a groan, "So tight for me hm?"

"Freddie...." You moan as he begins moving, rocking his hips slowly. You get used to the size of him, filling you to the brim, every slight bit of movement causing your walls to tense around his dick, rubbing within you sensually.

"I know baby, I know." He responds softly, continuing at this pace.

With every rock, his breathing increases, your soft pleas and his eager pants filling the room as he speeds up, going faster and harder.

Your moans start to get louder, getting more deafening by the minute. Fred leans down to plant kisses on your neck, and pecking your lips occasionally, you moan into him as he drives himself further into your core.

"You're doing so well baby." He coos into your ear, murmuring praises as he continues to thrust into you.

Fred doesn't stop pounding into you, you move your hands to his back, your nails practically digging into his skin from the pleasure.

Skin slapping against skin, you feel every jolt of his body into you. He's fucking you so gently but hard at the same time, treating you as though you were the most fragile thing on the planet.

"Baby..." You whimper, eyes fluttering shut, as he continues thrusting into you deeply, you are overwhelmed with so much pressure that you might cry, but it just felt so damn pleasurable.

"I'm getting close Fred." You pant, breathing heavily, as he picks up his pace.

"Look at me." He demands, and you open your eyes, gazing into his hazel ones. For once, they aren't filled with irritation, or the usual annoyance you were used to seeing, they were more gentle, admiring you, it was a look of love.

"Fred, I'm so close!" You cry out, feeling an orgasm coming closer, "I'm gonna—" you can barely finish your sentence, the pressure. on your g-spot and the intense penetration becoming too much for you to handle, along with the gaze of hazel eyes burning into you.

You let out an obscene moan as your walls clench around him, you jerk harshly, causing him to let out a guttural moan. It's a pleasurable ache, your entire body pulses beneath him.

"Gonna come inside you baby, that okay?" He asks, and you nod, to breathless to speak.

Seconds later, he comes undone, squirting his juices inside you. The world slows down as you enter your state of euphoria; you're entangled in pure bliss as you come down from your high. Your body is still electrified from the feeling before.

It takes a while for you to fully settle down. You slowly flutter your eyes open to find yourself engulfed in Fred's buff arms, your breathing in sync. The two of you lean against the wooden bed-frame, and you lean your head on his shoulder, while he cradles you.

You glance down at your body and notice that it's covered in marks, which looked bloody hot. Merlin, you really were Fred's now huh?

"So much for body heat." You chuckled softly, as he stroked your back gently.

He laughs, and you feel the vibrations of his chest, "The best kind of heat if you ask me." He says which earned an eyeroll from you.

Fred plants a soft kiss on your head, "Y'know I'm not one for apologies, but I was a bit of a jerk to you back in Hogwarts, and I want to apologise."

"It was a two-way thing, Freddie, suppose I should apologise for being one too. Merlin, you did grate on every last one of my nerves though." You tease.

"Always a pleasure." He grinned down at you, engulfed in his arms as you looked up at him, sharing a moment of sweet silence as you put the past behind you.

A ray of moonlight shone through the tiny gap in the curtain. You turned your head, glancing out the window as you pondered about the others back at the burrow.

"What're we going to tell the others when we find them tomorrow?" You giggled, taking in the state you were both in.

"I have a feeling they won't be surprised." Fred confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in my family thinks we have a thing for each other, especially Ginny. Won't stop talking about us that sister of mine."

"Since when?!" You were amused, the two of you were the epitome of the word hate back in Hogwarts and to hear a statement like this shocked you.

"Since school apparently." He laughed, shaking his head, "I thought it was silly too, but look where we are now."

"Just wait one day, you'll eventually get married." He mocked Ginny's tone, mirroring her facial expressions too, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Please, you and me?" You raised a brow, teasing him, though biting back a fond smile.

"Neverrrr." He scrunched up his nose, holding you closer as you both now laid down in bed, safely in each other's grasp.

Finally comfortable, you found yourself drifting off into a much-needed slumber. The same could be said for Fred, it was safe to say the body-heat idea turned out better than anticipated.

And with this newfound love, perhaps the broomstick breaking was a blessing in disguise.

3K notes · View notes

whre4wanda · 2 months ago

Text

Mine

*Mature content*

Biting, marking, strap-on, mommy kink, choking, oral, praising kink, Wanda being jealous.

Summary- you accompany your mother to the country club house, only to meet an interesting woman.

I don't really have a clue about tennis so bare with me here.

(y/m/n) - your mother's name

Milf Wanda is amazing! And thank you for so much positive feedback on my previous fic!

Your pov:

"Mom do I really have to go with you?" You ask, voice filled with annoyance as you follow the woman up the stairs.

"Yes you do. Now go pack your bags. I don't want to hear another word of this. We are going and that is final." You let out a defeated sigh, and walked up to your room. Your mother insisted, well more like forced you to accompany her to the country club to play some tennis because apparently you had been inside the house far too long this summer.

You were a good tennis player, that's for sure but being around so many snobbish, older people just wasn't how you wanted to spend your day. Especially with your mother's nagging voice ringing in your ear, constantly murmuring how you weren't playing perfectly. Nonetheless you began to get ready because you weren't in the mood for another scolding from the older woman. You put on your clothes, a pair of shoes, picked some essentials before placing them in your gym bag, and lastly, you grabbed your racket and a few tennis balls.

"Alright, let's go!" Your mom yelled from downstairs and you groaned. You rushed downstairs before grabbing your water bottle then walking towards the car.

"Trust me kid, I'd rather be at work than go to that country club." Your dad murmured softly from behind you and you only chuckled.

You stepped out of the car before your mom walked behind you, a grumble of annoyance escaping her lips.

"I told you, no short skirts, are you trying to show your ass to everyone? Christ what will people think?!" You rolled your eyes but you had a sly smirk painted across your face. Perhaps you'd find someone interesting here.

Your family walked into the Westview Country club, being stopped by a couple of your mother's closest friends. Your dad had already wandered off to the buffet and you were left awkwardly standing in the center of the large room.

You sighed, annoyance already bubbling up deep within you. You decided to make your way outside to the courts instead of just standing alone in the room. You were bored and beyond frustrated that your mother had pulled you away from the comfort of your room and forced you to come here. You walked past a few people you knew, smiling at those who even offered a glance your way. The rest of them just passed you without a word or just gave you a scowl. Well isn't everyone in this place just a ray of sunshine.

Minutes later and you were starting to get pissed. Your mother was nowhere to be found and your dad was surrounded by a bunch of other men talking about sports or the young girls they had been sleeping around with. Ew.

As you made your way to an empty court, you got hit by a tennis ball on your head.

"Ouch! What the fuck man?" You grabbed the ball before turning around, ready to scold whoever had hit you with the ball. You knew it wasn't intentional but you just wanted to let your frustrations out.

"Oh, I'm so sorry sweetheart, a friend and I were playing and turns out my aim wasn't right." A blonde woman apologized with a sincere smile on her face. You weren't even paying attention to her apology because you were so mesmerized by her features. This woman was sculpted by aphrodite herself. The woman had short blonde hair, gorgeous green eyes, plump pink lips, manicured finger nails that could probably ruin you...

"Oh um no it's okay." You cleared your throat in embarrassment before letting a chuckle fall past your lips. The blonde just smiled at you before she tilted her head.

"Do I know you? You just look so familiar?" She asked, now placing her racket in her other hand.

"Oh no. I don't think so. My mother is actually the one who comes here often and-"

"Y/n, there you are." Your mom came in, interrupting the conversation you were having with this mysterious woman.

"Oh. I see you've met Wanda Maximoff." Your mom murmured and it was then that you remembered the infamous woman your mother did not like. At all.

Wanda, on the other hand now realized why you looked so familiar. You practically had your mother's face if it wasn't for the difference in eye color and well because you were younger.

Back to you, you still wondered how your mother could hate such a beautiful woman. Then again, your mother hated everyone. Your eyes ran over the woman's features before they landed on those gorgeous green eyes that were looking right at you before they turned to your mother.

"Hello y/m/n." Wanda said, her voice sounding as equally pissed as your mom's. The blonde woman averted her eyes to you, smiling at you before your mom began talking.

"We should catch up! Have some tea some time." Your mom said and you fought the urge to scoff.

"Of course, that would be great, I really should get back to my game though." The blonde spoke and you were a little upset that you wouldn't have time to talk to her anymore.

"Well y/n here is a great player herself. Maybe she can play against you." You turned to your mom with a scowl plastered on your face. Of course your mom would do this. Yes, you wanted to talk to the blonde but you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of her.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind that at all."She smiled and winked at you. You blushed a little before your mother nudged you to walk over to the court she was playing at.

You and Wanda began walking in an awkward filled silence until the blonde woman spoke up.

"Your mother. Very interesting woman isn't she? " She said and you laughed a little.

"Yeah, one could say that. But I'd like to think we're different."

"How so?" She asked and you just shrugged.

"I don't know, I just guess we're not the same." Wanda nodded and watched as you walked in front of her, your skirt riding up from your movements.

"Sorry Agnes, do you mind if I play with someone else right now?" Wanda asked and the woman named Agnes just agreed before walking off the courts.

"No problem hun, I should catch up with Ralph and make sure he isn't up to anything stupid." She joked before turning to you.

"Hiya hot stuff, what's your name?"

"Y/n." You said with a shy smile and Agnes chuckled.

"Well aren't you a cutie. Anyways you two enjoy your game. And take it easy on her Wanda." Agnes said with a pointed look making her friend roll her eyes.

"I should warn you, I'm not the best player." You said with a shrug of your shoulders which made the blonde woman smile.

"Neither am I sweetheart, but we'll see what happens yeah?" Wanda said as she bent down to pick a ball up.

You watched as she bent down. You fought the urge to stare at her ass but it wasn't that easy. Wanda could feel your eyes on her and when she stood up she had the biggest smirk on her face.

"See something you like?" She teased and you felt your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

"Uhm I'm sorry." She only laughed before walking over to place her bottled water down.

You walked over to place your phone and water bottle on the side before making your way to your side of the court. And just like that, you and Wanda began your game of tennis.

"Well, you're quite the excellent player yourself Ms y/l/n"

"You're not too bad too Mrs Maximoff."

"Oh honey, please call me Wanda. Mrs Maximoff makes me feel old." She says with a small laugh and you nod your head.

"Alright Wanda." The name slips off your tongue in a way that has Wanda holding onto her racket for her dear life. You were so sweet and adorable to her, something about you intrigued her. She'd never felt this way before. Never with her past relationships and surely never with Vision. And the smile you sent her afterwards, was enough to make her feel like she was young again. Something about you drew her in and she wanted to explore it more.

You could practically feel the tension between the two of you, her eyes scanning your face and her lips parted but of course your mother just had to walk in and ruin the moment.

"Who won?" She asked and you turned to Wanda.

"Uh we weren't really keeping track." You said while shrugging and you could see your mom fighting back a scoff.

"But it was fun." you commented and Wanda sent you a wink.

"Well it was nice to see you Wanda, but we should get going."

Your mom pulled you away before you even got the chance to say goodbye to Wanda.

After that day, you found yourself visiting the country club more often just to see a particular blonde woman. You often went with your parents or sometimes even alone.

Wanda caught onto your little act and she loved every second of it. She loved the days when you'd decide to come alone. That way, she could be more flirtatious with you not that she stopped even when your parents were around, she just did it skillfully.

"I see you've come alone. Is it perhaps to see me once again?" She asks with a small smile playing on her lips.

"Well Wanda as much as I do enjoy seeing you, who says a girl can't come here to play some tennis?" You teased with a wiggle of your brow and she chuckled.

"Fair enough, but enough of that, join me for a drink?" She asks with a hopeful smile and who were you to deny some time with the blonde woman.

So with a nod of your head, you followed the woman to the bar area. You sat down with Wanda next to you, and she called over the bartender to order a drink. You spent the afternoon talking to Wanda, and it was absolutely amazing. It seemed as though the alcohol she drank made her more bold with her touches and glances, and even her words were much more sultry and suggestive than before. And you won't lie, you did enjoy the slightest bit of attention that you got from the older woman.

"Can I ask a qiestion?"

"Well you're already asking me one aren't you detka?" She teases and you laugh lightly.

"Go ahead."

"Are you married?" Wanda is taken aback by your question and you are immediately overcome with a dreadful feeling.

"Oh god I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wondered why you were reffered to as Mrs since, well I haven't really seen you wear a ring."

Wanda shakes her head with a small chuckle that eases your nevers just a bit.

"That's alright malysh, I'm not mad. I was married but unfortunately we didn't work out." She pauses for a moment, her finger tracing the outline of the glass like she was contemplating whether to continue talking or not.

"I understand, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"You're precious." She remarks again, giving you a wink that sends butterflies down to your stomach.

"He wasn't faithful. After I had my twins, he sort of just distanced himself. I thought I was overthinking it but I guess I was right when he'd barely come home at night or whenever he did, he'd smell like another woman's perfume." A dry chuckle escaped her lips and your heart clenches.

"I'm sorry about that." You say, reaching for her hand and rubbing it. She gives you a small smile before clearing her throat.

"That's all in the past malysh. I guess the name still sticks to this day."

"You have twins?" You ask with a smile and she nods her head.

"Hm hm. My two boys, Billie and Tommy."

"That's amazing." You say with a genuine smile and Wanda gives you one of her wide smiles.

"You're in to her aren't you Wanda?" Her friend asked as they sat on the pool chairs, watching the twins have fun inside the pool.

"Of course not Agnes, that's insane. I just have an admiration for her. That's it."

"Oh what a bunch of bull-" Wanda gives Agnes a warning look that silences the brunette from finishing her cuss word.

"It's harmless fun Agnes. It really isn't anything." Wanda explains to her friend who doesn't believe a single word she says. Agnes scoffs but says nothing more, instead she picks up her drink and takes a sip of it while watching Wanda with a unamused expression.

Wanda had asked you to help her with a few things at her home. And being the polite girl who had grown a crush on the woman, well you agreed. Which is how you found yourself next to the woman, helping her with her sink.

"Do you really know what you're doing there y/n?" She asked, gaze shamefully sweeping down your frame.

"Your lack in faith for me is quite undermining Wanda." You joke as you finished up. Wanda bit her lip, heat spreading down her spine as she watches you fix her sink.

"There. Done." You remarked as you stood up. You opened the faucet, smiling to yourself once the water begins to run.

"Problem solved."

"Thank you y/n you're a life saver." She murmurs and you shoot her a smile.

"How much can I pay you?"She asked as she pulled her wallet out.

"Oh no, please it's not necessary."

"Nonsense y/n, let me at least give you something." She pulls out money, handing it to you but you push her hand back gently.

"I'm serious, it's okay Wanda." With the way you were looking at the woman, she could only breath out before darting her tongue to the corner of her mouth. The small action catches your attention almost immediately and the tension in the kitchen rises, the both of you being aware of it.

"Is there maybe another way I could pay you?" She asks in a husky tone that has your stomach flipping and before you know it, her lips are pressed against yours.

You're taken slightly aback with the kiss and the ferocity of it but you kissed her back with the same level passion. Wanda pushed you against the kitchens counter, her arms moving up to wrap around your neck as yours find their place around her waist. The two of you battle for dominance but you manage to overpower her and you bite her tongue which has her eliciting a whine. Wanda pulls away from the heated kiss, her cheeks coated in a red tint breath still ragged from the kiss the two of you just shared.

The both of you don't say anything to one another for a while and once Wanda starts speaking, you can't seem to pay attention because all you were thinking about was what was under the clothes she had on. When Wanda realizes that you weren't paying attention to what she was saying, because your dilated pupils were focused on her cleavage instead, she could not help the flutter of butterflies that erupted inside her stomach. The idea of someone wanting her after so long has her feeling different, almost as if she was finally being seen.

And when you see Wanda begin to unbottun her shirt, your eyes are fixated on her movements before they trail up to her face that has a smirk planted on it.

"Are you sure there isn't another way I can pay you y/n? I think you'd like this payemnet very much." Her tone was so sultry and fuck did it make you wet. All you could do was clear your throat, your mouth running dry as she slips her blouse off. Your hands twitch in response, the urge to reach out and touch her smooth skin so strong.

"You can touch if you'd like." She teases and you reach out to pull her in for a searing kiss. Wanda can't help the moan that escapes her lips as you reach over to touch her covered breasts. She hums in pleasure as your fingers trail to her shoulders, to pull the straps of her bra down. Wanda's eyes are dilated, her breathing has escalated and she now stares at you with a pleading look.

"Y/n... Touch me."

Another sunny day and Wanda was sitting outside on the pool chairs with her friend next to her. She watched as her boys played in the swimming pool, a water gun in Tommy's hand while Billy held a ball. Agnes, ever the talkative one between the two of them, continued to rant about her husband. Something about his mother coming into town and Agnes wanting nothing more than to run away. But Wanda couldn't pay attention to her.

Not when her thoughts were consumed by you and you only.

"Y/n and I are having sex." She said quietly but loud enough for Agnes to hear.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said."

"Could you perhaps elaborate."

"What is there to elaborate, her and I are..."

"Fucking?"

"Not so loud." Wanda slaps her friend on the shoulder, her eyes scanning at the children before they're back on Agnes.

"But yes."

"How did this begin and... When?"

"It just... Happened."

You kissed Wanda again and again until you had no air to breathe. The older woman was now sprawled on her bed, her chest heaving with anticipation as you slowly slid her panties off. Wanda licked her lips in anticipation, her heart racing as she waited for your first move. And when you finally latched your tongue onto her bundle of nerves, her head was thrown back in pleasure.

"Oh.... Fuck!" The tatse of her sweet nectar had you humming in satisfaction before you greedily began to feast on the blonde woman's pussy.

Wanda's hands were locked in your hair, pulling the coils as her thighs wrapped around your head.

"god y/n just like that!"

"You tatse so amazing Wanda."

"Well it happened the day she helped me fix my sink."

"And when you say 'having sex' you mean that you two are still..."

"Yes."

Another day at the tennis club and instead of doing the actual sport, you were currently doing Wanda in the country clubs bathroom. With the older woman propped onto one of the sinks in one of the country clubs' luxurious bathroom, you had been eagerly eating her out for a long while. Wanda bit her lip in attempt to suppress her moans but with your skilled tongue swiping through her folds and collecting her wetness as if her slick was keeping you alive, and maybe it was.

"Y/n, please S-stop..." She whimpered as you brought her to her third orgasm in that bathroom. You hummed but when you you tried to move an inch away from the woman's pussy, her hand was grabbing your head, pushing you towards her pussy once again.

"You want me to move or stay?" You teased as a finger collected her slick before bringing it up to her face as proof of how wet she was.

"I don't think you want me to stop because your pussy sings otherwise Wanda." The woman groans and the smirk on your face grows before you slip your fingers inside her again.

"Well this is something I didn't expect." Agnes mumbles while downing the last of her drink.

"How is she?"

"She's... indescribable."

"Better than Vision?" The brunette woman asks with a teasing smile that has Wanda scoffing.

"What he did, y/n could probably do in her sleep."

"Well my dear, I just advice you to be careful Wanda. You know how people feel about well you know homosexuality. Besides her mother is a devil so the territory you're playing on is quite dangerous."

Wanda hums in agreement. She knew that Agnes was right but that didn't mean that she would even think about ending whatever it is that you two had. Not when she was having so much fun.

Sunday services weren't really your favorite thing to attend. That was until you met Wanda. Now it was somewhat tolerable. It's not that you didn't like the word but the environment around you was toxic. You could do without the remarks about homosexuality or the snark comments that were thrown your way at times, that's what you hated the most.

But there you sat, a few rows behind the older woman. Wanda looked as dashing as ever. With her blonde hair styled perfectly, a blue dress adoring her gorgeous figure to which she topped off with a diamond necklace. And right next to her, were her two children, who were dressed in suits. You could tell that it had been a hassle to get both Billy and Tommy into those suits since Tommy could not stop tugging at his tie whenever his mother wasn't looking at him. But nevertheless, they all looked like the perfect family.

"Y/n?" A somewhat familiar voice called your name from behind and you turned to see Sam, a girl who you had once shared intimacy with in the past.

"Sam? What are you doing here?"

"Why are you so shocked to see me huh?" She joked and you shook your head.

"You don't go to church."

"Touché. I'm actually here with my older sister. She thought it would be beneficial you know." You nodded your head in understanding before she moved over to you.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Please, go ahead." She gave you a smile, and once upon a time you would have melted at the sight but now your heart was somewhere else.

Speaking of which, Wanda had been staring at the two of you for some time now. She tilted her head, trying to figure out what was going on between the two of you. And when Sam sat next to you, she couldn't help but frown at this. It seemed like the two of you knew each other. Especially with the Way Sam was practically undressing you with her eyes.

She should be shameful. Not because she was in a holy place but because she was stepping onto another woman's property. Not that Wanda saw you as property, but she didn't like this at all.

"So do you wanna go out sometime maybe?" Sam asked with her hand on your shoulder as the service had finally ended.

"Uh no." You pushed her hand away, in attempt of getting away from her.

"I'm seeing someone."

"Oh."

"I should go anyway."

Wanda had told you prior to meet her later that night. She had mentioned how she had wanted to surprise you with something that day a week ago and you could not help the giddy feeling that had been arising in you. Wanda had given you a key to her house some time ago, so it was easy for you to slip into her home without any hassle.

As you walked up the stairs with your hands inside your pocket, you could hear the faint noise of shuffling which you could only assume was from the master bedroom. And when you walked inside, you spotted the blonde woman seated on her bed, a silk robe covering her features.

"Hi." You spoke giddly and Wanda only offered a smile in acknowledgement before beckoning you over with that same smile on her face. You walked over to the woman, who slowly but surely got you to be situated onto your knees in front of her, her hand placing the small strand of hair behind your ear.

"Who was that girl you were with earlier on?" She asked and you frowned in confusion.

"Which girl?"

"Don't play coy with me y/n." You tilted your head, still confused as to what she had been talking about until it dawned you.

"Oh she was just someone."

"Uh huh." Wanda was quiet for a moment before humming.

"Do I look dumb malyshka?"

"W-what no."

"Let me tell you something y/n. I don't like it when someone touches what's mine and sweetie, that friend of yours was touching what was mine."

"Well i-"

"Did mommy say you could talk?" Woah.

"Now it might have been my own fault for letting that cute little head of yours think that you were in charge because my sweet girl, you aren't." Her tone was straight up condescending and you were taken aback by the women's sudden dominance but you'd be a fool if you said you didn't love it.

"I'm sorry." Was all you could mumble as you bowed your head.

"Oh mommy knows you are sweetheart, and you can always make it up to me, right?"

"Yes I can, I promise I can."

"Good girl. Now... " Wanda slipped her robe off, and you were borderline shocked to see a harness attached to her hips.

"Pretty right? And I'm sure it will look even better inside your pussy." She murmured and you couldn't help but let out a small whine.

"Falling into obedience so easily huh?" She chuckled darkly before her hands were in your hair.

"Why don't you get this wet for me huh?" She said while guiding the toy to your lips. And you now being the good girl you are, opened your mouth gladly accepting the toy inside.

"Oh what a precious sight this is." Wanda bit her lip as she watched you suck the red silicone toy in amazement. She was mesmerized with watching it disappear before it reappeared covered in a layer of your spit. Wanda let out a groan once she heard you gag around the toy, she had to hear it again, to see your face become ruined from her ministrations.

Wanda's hips began to raise on their own accord and she cooed as the strap hit the back of your throat countless times.

"That's okay, look how good you're doing for me." And she continued to fuck your mouth until she was satisfied with the results which was your teary half lidded eyes looking up at her.

"How pretty." Wanda commanded you to strip until you were bare before she instructed you to lay down onto her rather comfortable bed. She'd purposefully told you to leave your panties on because she wanted to be the one to slip the garments off. And when she ripped the material apart with a dark look in her eyes, you then realized that you were in for it all. Especially since you had no clue of what lengths Wanda was capable of.

Wanda wasted no time with her fingers. With your slick covered pussy, she maneuvered her two fingers inside before moving them at a moderate pace. Never did you think the woman you had secretly been seeing for almost two months, had this side to her. A feral, dominant and more sadistic side. But you fucking loved it.

"Look at this sweet pussy. What is it that you said huh? Your pussy sings for me..."She reiterated the words you had once told her as she scissored her two digits inside you.

Wanda was fucking you with her fingers. Hard. She just couldn't get the picture of that girl next to you. Wanda would make sure that you knew your body belonged to her. Whenever she would be around, your body would yearn for her subconsciously, your mind would need her. You would need her. She continued with her ministrations, watching as her once dry fingers were now soaked with your arousal.

She smiled to herself, her mind wheeling with all the possibilities she could do with you. And when her mouth latched onto your clit, you were practically gone. The older women fucked you as if she'd known your body for years. You were certain the women knew your body better than you did. You shuddered as her teeth grazed over your clit, a wanton moan escaping your lips from the sensation.

"Oh you like that don't you? Such a pretty girl." She cooed before doing it again. Wanda separated from your pussy, her fingers slipped out of your pussy and you whined which only made her smirk.

"Wanda-"

"Patience dear, you said you'd make it up to me didn't you?" She asked with a raised brow and you let out a huff.

"Don't worry, mommy knows was best for you." She lightly slapped your face before her slick covered fingers were placed inside your mouth.

"Suck. Clean your mess up." And you did. You sucked and licked her fingers as if your life was dependent on it.

"Good girl. If only you could see yourself. You look so fuckable." Wanda's teeth tugged at her lips as her fingers were pulled out of your mouth then slipped inside your pussy again. She began moving them slowly, and your hips started moving on their own accord, needing to feel her fingers slide deeper inside of you.

"Awwe pretty girl, do you want me to fuck you?" A frustrated eye roll was sent her way and within the blink of an eye, Wanda had her hand pressed against your throat, her eyes glimmering with anger, disappointment and lust.

"Don't be a brat now. I don't like brats." She said, her hand tightening around your neck, but not to the point where you couldn't breathe, just as a warning to you.

"M'sorry."

"I'm sure you are." Her hand was still on your neck as the fingers inside you quickened.

"Is this all that you want? To cum?" Her question made you stutter but you nodded your head. Wanda tutted but her fingers still continued to move inside of you.

"Pathetic." Her fingers hit that spongy spot inside you that had you babbling and begging to ask Wanda to cum. She smirked before she made a thinking face.

"You wanna cum detka? Cum for me then."

As the older woman made that final command, your body spasmed and you experienced one of the most toe curling orgasms you'd ever received in your life.

"Fuck."

"There we go, just let go yeah?" Wanda whispered inside your ear as she marked your neck. A reminder that you were hers and anyone that would see these marks would know that you belonged to someone, even if they didn't know it was her.

And when you finally came back from your high, Wanda had already been positioning the strap on inside of you,catching you off guard almost immediately.

"Look how easily it slides in?" She murmured as she slowly began to thrust the toy inside of you.

You could feel it tearing you apart. The silicone toy was longer and girthier than you had expected it to be. But with the way Wanda had been looking at you while her fingers played with your nipples the pain has soon subsided, slowly becoming pleasurable. You moaned and whimpered as Wanda took full control of your body, somehow fucking you into the bed.

"You're mine y/n, don't forget that." She said as she pounded into you. You didn't know what to do with yourself. This pleasure was overwhelming but in a good way.

"Say it."

"I'm yours." With gritted teeth, she continued rutting her hips inside of you and you could feel your orgasm approaching.

"Come on y/n, cum again. And you're gonna keep cumming until I tell you you can stop." Wanda mumbled, her hips never getting tired of pistoning in and out of you, especially with the way your pussy was gripping the toy. Or the way your arousal would spread all over the toy, god it was mesmerizing. And soon enough you had been succumbing the pleasure, your second orgasm of the night hitting you like a tidal wave.

But Wanda Maximoff was a woman of her word. And when she said you'd cum until she was satisfied, she meant it. She was adamant on making your body hers. From the marks to the bites and to your pussy singing for her. Just her.

By the end of the night, your body was hers and her body was yours.

_________________________________________

#wanda maximoff smut #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wlw ns/fw #wlw post #wandanat #mommy wanda #mommy wlw #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #black reader #female reader #lizzie olsen

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 10 months ago

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keeping LOGAN HOWLETT company when you notice him having a bad day

implied fem!reader. grumpy x sunshine. fluff

idk when this is set, bc xmen timelines confuse the fuck out of me. and yeah sorry, another fic for him. I can’t stop with ideas, im like a freight train

It wasn’t always easy to deal with Logan when he was this way – his grumpy, closed-off self retreating into his once far more reserved ways. Sometimes after a bad day he’d shut himself off, only finding the comfort at the bottom of an empty whiskey bottle.

He has to remember he has you now. He’s no longer alone.

He’s out on the porch, sitting on the steps, elbows on his knees with a crystal tumbler clasped in hand. It was starting to rain, the clouds spitting as if to add insult to injury – the weather mirroring his feelings.

You wanted to give him time – give a moment for him to come to you. But as you see the rain fall harder, his exposed self sitting under a heavy patch of downpour, you grab your umbrella from its nook by the front door.

You open the door slowly, trying not to startle him with the abrupt noise.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft. “Can I keep you company?” you ask, hesitant footing keeping you in place.

He nods, moving the bottle from his side to between his booted feet – making space for you. He keeps his eyes ahead, looking out into the forest.

You sit beside him, holding the umbrella higher up to shield you both, scooting in closer when you notice parts of him left out under the covering.

“Do uh—” you stall, turning to look at the side of him. “Do you want to talk about it?” you question, speaking carefully as not push him away further.

“Nothing much to say,” he murmurs, words quiet and distracted as he swirls the amber liquid in the glass – eyes focused as he watches its motion.

You pause and fiddle with the handle of the brolly, uncertain of what to say. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable, but instead, it was the opposite. You were so comfortable that you didn’t want your keenness to act as a repellent. So you wait, trying to find the words he wants to hear. Not what you think he wants to hear.

And then you realise, the reason it was so hard to find words, is because no words should even be said at all. Words often hold no meaning, but actions, they do. He doesn't want verbal comfort, but instead something physical, something silent and earnest.

So you rest your head on his shoulder, leaning into him as if to voicelessly show your care – the act sweet and gentle. He raises his glass to take a sip only to pause, pulling it away as if he was questioning its use. His eyes focused on the small amount at the bottom like he was debating with himself.

But he decides against it, placing the tumbler aside – his now free hand finding itself reaching over your shoulders to pull you into him. He takes the umbrella from your hand, holding it as he shields you both from the rain – replacing your job as he thought it to be his.

And like him, your hand now empty, you find yourself reaching behind him – wrapping an arm around his back as if to further the comfort. You nuzzle your head into his burly shoulder, nestling against him as you both look out into the vast expanse of greyscale brown and green.

“I’m here when you’re ready.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett comfort #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan xmen #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine

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daechwitatamic · 4 months ago

Text

Cinnamon || KMG

banner by @sailorrhansol

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

WC: 19k

Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do their best to do better going forward, quick and prosey smut scene with piv penetration

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-inggggg iluuuuu

December

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

You grumble in response, eyes still mostly closed, as you make your way by muscle memory to your apartment’s barely-functioning coffee machine. Only once you’ve poured a mug, stirred in everything you need to make it palatable, and taken your first sip, do you speak actual words.

“Morning. You’re up early.”

Jeonghan, one of your three roommates, nods solemnly. “I have a nine o’clock meeting today, but I need to get some files together first, so I’m trying to be there by eight,” he tells you. You glance at the clock on the microwave - it’s already 7:20.

“You might want to get moving,” you warn him.

He makes a face that says, I know, but - and cocks his head towards the bathroom the four of you share. The door is closed and the light inside is on, which means it must be occupied. It’s not usually a problem, even with four of you - your schedules are just different enough that it works out.

You frown. “Wonwoo isn’t gone yet?” He’s usually the first one out of the house on weekdays since he’s got the longest commute.

Jeonghan shakes his head, but then the light clicks off and the door opens. A girl you’ve never seen before steps out cautiously, then pauses when she sees the kitchen isn’t empty.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Hi. Good morning. I’ll just -”

She gives you each a polite nod and slips quickly back through the nearest door - Mingyu’s bedroom.

You face Jeonghan again and roll your eyes. He gives you a bit of a grimace and gets up, hurrying into the now-empty bathroom.

You take his seat at the table, sip slowly at your coffee. Having three guys as roommates means this happens with relative regularity, though usually the guys keep their conquests to weekends and holidays. Mingyu must have really liked this girl to bring her home on a weeknight. You glance back at his closed door; you can faintly hear their voices, but not what they’re saying. She was pretty.

You tuck away whatever feelings you might have about this, just like you always do, wipe your heart as clean as a classroom chalkboard at the beginning of a new day. Jeonghan vacates the bathroom, clearly in a hurry, and you take his place, turning the shower on and praying that there’ll be enough hot water left to get you through. (There’s not.)

Later, as you sit on the train amidst a sea of other morning commuters, you check your phone.

Roomies 💕

[8:07am] (jeong)Han Solo: i would like to issue a formal complaint

[8:07 am] wonuuu: i left plenty of coffee bro

[8:07am] (jeong)Han Solo: not that

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: if this is a noise complaint… i’m sorry but also no i’m not

[8:09am] You: you’re disgusting

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: you love me

[8:10am] You: 🙄

[8:10am] (jeong)Han Solo: so does the girl whose presence in our one (1) bathroom made me late this morning

[8:10am] (jeong)Han Solo: if i get fired you’re covering my part of the rent

[8:11am] Cinnamingyu: have fun defending that in small claims court

[8:11am] You: i am happy to be a witness on your behalf

[8:11am] Cinnamingyu: et tu brutus?

[8:11am] You: my shower was lukewarm at best

[8:12am] You: you will be hearing from my counsel

[8:12am] You: thanks in advance wonwoo

[8:14am] wonuuu: for the millionth time… I cannot be your counsel. I’m not qualified yet.

[8:14am] You: yet ☝️

[8:17am] Cinnamingyu: let’s not ignore the real problem here… we need another bathroom

[8:21am] (jeong)Han Solo: ok great, tell me when you win the lottery so we can move out

Chuckling, you slide your phone back into your coat pocket as the train pulls into your stop. You hurry through the train station, tucking your chin into your coat collar as you speed through the icy December morning. It’s one of those dry cold days, where the air around you feels frozen, almost hurts to breathe. Everything is grey - sky above you, buildings around you, ground below you. Fast steps take you the three blocks to your office building, where you sigh in relief as the heated air hits your face, chasing away the chill.

You check your phone again as you hang your coat on your chair in your cubicle. As usual, Mingyu has texted you privately, away from the group chat.

[8:31am] Cinnamingyu: sorry about the hot water :(

[8:38am] You: you should be. i shivered through my whole conditioning routine.

[8:38am] Cinnamingyu: poor sunny baby :( :( :( will you ever forgive me?

You roll your eyes, but you’re fighting a smile. You hate that Mingyu can just charm you right out of a mood, and you hate it even more than he knows it and weaponizes it. He’s the one who gave you the nickname Sunny (or Sunshine depending on how cranky you were at the given moment) back when you were a college freshman. Your other roommates picked it up, but Mingyu was the only one who ever turned Sunshine or Sunny into Sunny Baby.

It’s absolutely horrendous, unfathomable, deeply unfair that it works, that it makes you melt into goo when he uses it. Still, you try to hold strong.

[8:38am] You: don’t you Sunny Baby me Kim Mingyu, you have crimes to answer for!!!

[8:39am] Cinnamingyu: ill cook for you tonight as penance. and then maybe a movie?

You frown. You wish you could take him up on the offer. Mingyu’s a great cook. One of the many things you love about him.

[8:39am] You: rain check. i won’t be home for dinner

[8:39am] Cinnamingyu: what’s this? did you manage to bag a man????

[8:39am] You: i hate you so much

[8:39am] You: yes you absolute scrambled egg, i have a date

Mingyu sends you a gif of an old man suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, and you laugh out loud. Then you stash your phone behind your keyboard and get to work. But when you check it again a few hours later, after your first meeting of the day lets out, he’s texted you again.

[8:40am] Cinnamingyu: is it the same guy as last week? date number TWO?? 😮

[10:51am] You: yeeeeees 🤭

[10:51am] Cinnamingyu: wow, big moves for you. a second date! do we need to have The Talk?

[10:51am] You: blocked and reported

This is an ancient song and dance for you and Mingyu. When you’ve been friends as long as you have, some things just become routine. Like you, gracefully ignoring the handful of girls that you never see a second time. Like him, acting like it’s monumental when you actually give someone a chance.

He’s used to you giving no one a chance, ever. He knows it doesn’t happen much.

But you had a good first date with Daeyoung last week. A really good first date. You’d been texting a lot since then, too. He was funny - witty. And cute. So you’d thought to yourself… what the hell. Why not? Why not go out a second time? What else were you going to do tonight?

(Stay home and eat the food Mingyu cooks for you. Watch a movie together on the couch.)

And, sure, you do want to do those things. But going out with Daeyoung tonight won’t change a thing between you and Mingyu. He’ll grill you about it when you get home, maybe tease you a little, and you’ll do food and a movie another night.

Daeyoung takes you bowling. You weren’t sure how you’d feel about it, not having been in a bowling alley since you were a kid, and remembering them as vaguely sticky places. But it ends up being kind of cute, maybe even nostalgic. Daeyoung buys a pitcher of beer and sets it on your - yes - sticky table, and walks with you as you select a pink ball that is definitely meant for children.

“You know that’s only six pounds, right?” he asks you, smiling playfully.

“Bold of you to think I could lift a heavier one,” you deadpan, and he laughs. You like his laugh - it’s easy, light, like he’s wholly uncomplicated. You could use some uncomplicated in your life.

You're terrible at bowling - you score a 42 on your first game, the ball finding the gutter more times than it stays on the lane. Even so, you manage to have fun. Daeyoung doesn’t make you feel weird about it - in fact, he barely pays attention to the actual bowling. Instead he talks to you about your day, asks about your family, doesn't seem like he's freaked out that you live with three guy friends. He doesn’t even ask the very common, “so, has anything ever happened there?” for which you’re grateful.

He’s got three sisters, you learn, and grew up with cats but still wants a dog someday. He graduated two years before you, has never traveled outside the country.

You offer back your own resume of sorts - an older sister and a younger brother, no pets growing up and allergic to most mammals (perhaps humans included, as has been pointed out by Mingyu on many occasions, usually in the same conversation that he’s calling you Sunshine and pinching your cheeks like your attitude is cute). Graduated with Honors and haven’t traveled much either, though you’d love to when you have some money saved up.

Your phone lights up on the table every so often, and you check it while Daeyoung takes his turn on the lane. A few are Jeonghan and one of your co-workers, and one is your little brother asking how to get blood out of laundry which is super alarming - but the rest are from Mingyu.

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: just know that you are missing one of my best creations

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: but dont worry i will save you some ☺️ because i’m the best roommate ever

[7:31pm] You: thank youuuuu! I might not have any tonight but you know i’ll eat the leftovers!

[7:31pm] Cinnamingyu: hows the date?

[7:36pm] You: i am very bad at bowling actually!!!

[7:36pm] Cinnamingyu: aim for the pins

[7:43pm] You: have i mentioned that i hate you?

[7:43pm] Cinnamingyu: guess i’ll throw these leftovers out then

[8:12pm] Cinnamingyu: what time do you think youll be home?

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: sorry i didnt mean that like WHEN WILL YOU BE HOME YOUNG LADY

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: i was asking bc i was deciding if i want to start a movie or wait for you i wasnt trying to

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: you know

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: anyway. aim for the pins. wear protection. etc. see you later lol

[8:38pm] You: young lady 🙄 go away mingyu!!!

[8:38pm] Cinnamingyu: you dont mean that

[8:38pm] You: i don’t 😘

[8:47pm] You: if you wanna save a movie for me… i should be home by 11

Daeyoung drives you home after the date, and you note that his car is clean, but not serial killer clean. A green flag.

When he asks if he can see you again soon, as he's pulling the car up to your building, you tell him yes without hesitating. It’ll be your first third date in maybe ever, and you make a little note in your brain that you should probably talk to him about this, make sure he can be on the same page - that this is fun and you’ll keep going out as long as it’s a good time, but you aren’t really looking for serious.

When he pauses, leaning in a little closer, you feel yourself smile, and you let him. It’s a nice kiss.

He’s a nice guy.

There’s no reason you couldn’t follow through with this. There’s no giant problem with him, no personality quirk or inherent difference that makes him ineligible.

But.

You push the thought away. “Thanks for tonight,” you tell him. “I had a good time.”

“You’d have a better time if you listened to my advice and used a heavier ball,” he says seriously, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s teasing. “You can’t expect to knock down pins when they weigh more than what you’re throwing at them.”

“Sounds fake,” you joke, and hop out of the car. Before you shut the door, you pause. “See you next weekend?”

His smile unfurls, pleased. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll text you.”

You practically skip back into the apartment. You pause at the closet by the front door, pulling off your boots and hanging up your puffy winter coat. You can hear the tv on in the living room and water running in the kitchen.

You step into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. Mingyu stands at the sink, his back to you, up to his elbow in suds. You bump him with your hips as you pass by, and he kicks at you and misses. You open the fridge and grab a can of seltzer. Mingyu smiles at you from the sink, and just like that, Daeyoung evaporates from your mind.

He calls you Sunny, but he’s the sun. Has been that way as long as you’ve known him - since undergrad.

You’d met in your freshman year - he was puppy-dog cute, back then, not the chiseled sculpture of a man who takes up half your kitchen now. You’d been in the Arts and he’d been in the Sciences - something mathy - but you’d bonded in one of those godawful general requirement classes, and somehow the friendship had taken hold.

Mingyu holding your hand - metaphorically and literally - through your two required math classes and two required science labs was the only reason you’d even managed to graduate. Of course, you’d also written every single formal paper he had through the whole four years, so it evened out.

You complement each other that way, in every area. He’s outgoing and friendly, you’re cranky enough to be given the nickname Sunny in pure irony. Mingyu likes puzzles and problems he can work out, you like to turn the brain off for any and all hobbies. Mingyu is sunshine and big smiles, you are made of salt and sarcasm.

But you love each other - have been best friends since almost the moment you met. There is nothing in your life you’d be willing to lose less than him.

You wander up to him and lean against his arm, mostly to be funny because he continues to wash dishes even as it jostles you around, and it becomes a little game of him trying to shake you off and you refusing to be shaken.

“How was your night?” he asks finally, reaching to turn off the water. You automatically pass him a dish towel to dry his hands. He takes it, drying, and then reaches around you to hang it back up near the oven.

“Not as good as yours,” you snicker, noticing a purple blotch near his collar.

He flushes dark, slapping a hand over the spot. “Yah,” he complains.

You laugh. “She was cute!”

“She’d be cuter if she spent less time in our bathroom!” Jeonghan’s disembodied voice floats from the living room.

“Alright, we get it!” Mingyu calls back hotly. “You’ve only been complaining about that for fifteen hours!”

Cackling, you follow him out into the living room. Jeonghan is sprawled sideways on the two-seater, a show you don’t recognize playing across the tv screen. Down the hallway, Wonwoo’s door is open about a foot, casting the hallway in flickering blue light that tells you he’s gaming and you probably won’t see him for the rest of the night.

“So,” Jeonghan says dryly, without peeling his eyes from the tv, “I noticed your boyfriend’s car idling outside for quite a while before you came in. Were we necking?”

“Necking?” you splutter. Beside you, Mingyu is biting on his lips, trying not to laugh at your expense. “What year is this, 1950? And he’s not my boyfriend. You know that.”

You can’t help the defensive edge that creeps into your voice. From where he’s plopped on the couch, Mingyu reaches up for your hand, tugging. You let him pull you into the space next to him and he rubs a soothing hand across your shoulders before taking his hand away. It’s a silent, quick moment - easy to miss if you aren’t looking. But you are looking, always, and you wonder if he even knows he does this - reads your moods, rushes to fix you.

Unbothered by your ruffled feathers, Jeonghan asks lightly, “So, are you seeing him again, or…?”

The bastard hasn’t even looked away from the television screen.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” you grumble at him.

Now he looks over at you, smiling beatifically, innocently. “There’s my Sunshine.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Mingyu asks from next to you, eyebrows raised. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to sound casual. You can tell the jackals are in a mood tonight.

Jeonghan’s face splits into a delighted grin. “A third date? My goodness.”

“We all know what happens on a third date,” Mingyu says sagely, and you punch him in the thigh, extra hard since you can only reach him and not Jeonghan too.

Wonwoo’s voice comes from down the hallway. “Leave Sunny alone, you guys.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “Leave Sunny alone.”

Mingyu stretches over your lap to reach for the remote. It brings his torso almost flush against yours and you feel your face heat.

“I was watching that,” Jeonghan complains before Mingyu even presses anything.

“Sunny and I are watching a movie,” Mingyu says flatly. “Go watch on your laptop if you care so much.”

Jeonghan reaches towards your couch lazily and slaps at the air like he can’t be assed to work any harder to hit his roommate. “You’re cranky today,” he observes, the arm not trying (sort of) to slap Mingyu’s leg folded behind his head. “Why might that be?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer him, just settles back next to you, his arm against yours, and starts scrolling through movie options.

He still hasn’t picked one when Wonwoo appears in the living room’s doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, his LED headset looped around his neck and his eyes on his phone.

“What are we watching?” he asks absently.

“Nothing, apparently,” Jeonghan quips.

Beside you, Mingyu growls a little.

Unphased - this is so normal for them, it would be more alarming if they weren’t pissing each other off - you look up and Wonwoo and say, “I didn’t think you’d emerge tonight.”

“I’m heading right back in,” he admits. “Hydration break. Anyway - question. What’s everyone’s plans for the holidays?”

Mingyu stops scrolling, pausing to think.

“I’ll be home,” Jeonghan says, meaning his hometown.

“Me, too,” Mingyu adds. “I’m leaving on Sunday. Next Sunday, I mean.”

Wonwoo lets out a little sigh. “Okay. My folks were asking when I was coming. Sunny, you’re going home, too?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you admit. “I was staying here.”

You feel rather than see your friends share a glance.

“I can stay, then,” Wonwoo says, a bit tightly - you can tell that wasn’t the plan. “So you aren’t alone.”

“No,” you protest. “I’m perfectly fine being here by myself, you know that.”

“Sunny Baby is an indoor cat,” Mingyu notes, and you bump him with your elbow.

“It’s fine,” you insist. “Plus, I think Daeyoung will be around, so I won’t be alone the whole time anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyes bore into the side of your face, but you don’t look at him; if it’s pity he’s leveling at you, you don’t want it.

“If you’re sure,” Wonwoo says, and when you assure him you do, he vanishes into the kitchen and then back into his room. Mingyu clicks on a movie and you settle in, eventually getting sleepy and shifting sideways, your head resting comfortably on his unfairly sculpted shoulder. He shifts to let you get more comfortable, and the night passes as simply and pleasantly as hundreds before.

When the movie ends, you pick up the bottles and cans from the coffee table while Mingyu does a quick lap of the apartment, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. You meet outside the bathroom - occupied by Jeonghan - both waiting your turn to brush your teeth and whatever else before bed.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu says softly, something tentative in his voice, and you look up at him, heart suddenly thumping. He’s looking at you earnestly in the dim light from the bedrooms down the hall, something you’re not sure you can name on his face. It’s almost pleading, but that doesn’t make sense. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me for the holidays? My family would love to have you - they’re obsessed with you, you know that.”

Your heart calms. “It’s really okay,” you promise. “But thanks for checking.”

The bathroom door opens and Jeonghan slips by, leaving a wave of toothpaste-mint in his wake.

“You go ahead,” Mingyu says.

“You were in line first,” you argue.

He rolls his eyes but knows how stubborn you are, so he disappears into the bathroom. You lean your butt against the kitchen table and check your phone for the first time in a while.

Daeyoung had texted shortly after he drove away - probably as soon as he got home.

[11:24pm] Daeyoung: I had a really good time tonight. Looking forward to next week :]

[12:51am] You: me too ☺️

The bathroom door opens and you turn off your phone screen with a click, bidding Mingyu goodnight as you slide into the bathroom’s light.

–

January

New Year’s Eve

Roomies 💕

[11:13pm] (jeong)Han Solo: sunny where’d you end up tonight?

[11:13pm] You: i’m with the girliesss!!! where are you guys

[11:13pm] Cinnamingyu: sunnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy baby baby baby

[11:13pm] You: yyyeeesssss??

[11:14pm] (jeong)Han Solo: we’re downtown. mingyu cant come to the phone right now but i think he wants you to come hang out with us

[11:14pm] You: lmao nooooo he didnt even make it to midnight??? thats sad, kim mingyu

[11:16pm] Wonuuu: u ever think about that phrase “can’t come to the phone”… from an era in which you had to walk to the family’s landline phone in the kitchen or whatever… none of us were even alive for that

[11:16pm] You: wow apparently you guys are having a much better time than me

[11:16pm] (jeong)Han Solo: only wonwoo lol ok be safe and have fun!! see you at home

–

[11:14pm] Cinnamingyu: come out!!

[11:14pm] You: i am out! Lol

[11:15am] Cinnamingyu: you know what i mean

[11:16am] You: im sorry :( but we’re across town and by the time we got there we’d miss the countdown

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: ok 🙁

[11:16am] You: don’t pout!!! i’ll see you at home tomorrow and we can hang out all day

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: not the same!

[11:17am] You: ok lets take a shot together!!

[11:17am] Cinnamingyu: ???

[11:17am] You: go order one and tell me when you’re ready!!

[11:18am] Cinnamingyu: lmao on it 🫡

[11:28am] Cinnamingyu: ok im ready

[11:28am] You: ok when you get this count to three and take your shot!

[11:29am] You: geonbae or cheers or salute or whatever

[11:29am] Cinnamingyu: or whatever 🙄

[11:29am] You: 😘

New Year’s Day

Roomies 💕

[12:00am] You: HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVES OF MY LIFE LET THIS BE THE BESTEWT YEAR FOR US EVER EVER EVR!!!!!

[12:00am] Wonuuu: happy new year sunny 🙂

[12:00am] (jeong)Han Solo: happy new yearrr 😽

[4:09am] You: home safe ♥️

[10:33am] Wonuuu: i’ll be home tomorrow sunny

[12:42pm] (jeong)Han Solo: i’ll be back tonight but probably not until after dinner

[12:42pm] You: ok! i’ll be here

[3:17pm] (jeong)Han Solo: is mingyu alive???

[3:17pm] You: lol yeah he’s home. he’s just… not in the best shape asfjkasfhaio

[12:00am] Cinnamingyu: happy new year sunny baby 🩷

[12:01am] You: happy new year best friend!!!!!!! ily ily ily!!!!

[12:32am] Cinnamingyu: you kno you could still meet us out nw

[11:23am] Cinnamingyu: can u open the front door… my head hurts too bad to make the keys work

You stagger to the apartment’s front door, eyes squinting against the harsh daylight streaming into the living room and kitchen area. When you unlock and pull open the door, Mingyu almost collapses on top of you.

“Get up,” you groan, shuffling backwards. “You’re too heavy, I can’t hold you!”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, but rights himself to standing.

You stand there for a minute, both of you just grappling with the horrible reality of being awake and upright and, god, very hungover.

“I need to lay down,” Mingyu says finally, very clearly, like he’s had a sudden burst of self-preservation.

“Come on,” you wave at him vaguely and make your way back to bed. You collapse right into the spot you’d vacated when he texted, pulling the blankets up to your ears and closing your eyes, waiting for the bed to dip beside you.

It doesn’t.

You open your eyes again. “Mingyu?”

He appears wordlessly in your doorway, then makes his way over to his side of the bed. The empty side of your bed. Not his. You have to stop thinking that way.

You’re puzzled, but then he leans over and presses a cold water bottle into your hand. Despite his whining, he was still trying to take care of you.

“Did you take any pain killer?” you mumble.

“Probably more than was actually advisable,” he admits, twisting his own water open and drinking noisily. You don’t see a problem with this - Mingyu is gigantic, and you can imagine his dosing needs would reflect it.

“Okay,” you say with a little sigh. “We’ll sleep for a while and then maybe we can try to eat.”

“God, don’t talk about food,” he moans, taking one of your extra pillows and covering his face.

You chuckle lightly, and then roll to hide your face somewhere near his bicep, breathing in his familiar cinnamon scent and matching your breaths to his until you slip back under. The millionth time you’ve fallen asleep next to your best friend, and you’re already eagerly looking ahead to a million and one.

You’re awakened by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom, clear on the other side of the apartment. You scrabble for and glance at your phone - hours have passed. The light in your bedroom has slipped closer to golden as mid-afternoon begins to wane. You sit up tentatively; this time there’s no wave of dizziness as a punishment for being vertical, though your head still pounds.

You drink some of the water Mingyu brought you, answer a text from Jeonghan, then decide to go make sure Mingyu’s alive.

“You need anything?” you call through the door. You can hear the sink run, and the door opens.

“A lobotomy,” he deadpans. He looks miserable, frown pronounced and eyes puffy.

“Get back in bed,” you tell him gently, and he ambles off towards your room. You detour into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. It might not save him, but you could use some caffeine.

While it brews, you poke your head into your bedroom. Mingyu is back in your bed, curled up pitifully, that pouting frown still prevalent on his face.

“What time did you take something?” you ask him.

“Like ten thirty,” he mumbles into your pillow.

You glance at the clock. “You can have more,” you tell him, and head back across the apartment to pilfer through the medicine cabinet.

With the pill bottle in hand, you stop in the kitchen long enough to pour yourself a cup of coffee. Carefully balancing so as not to spill, you bring it into the bedroom, placing it carefully on your nightstand and then nudging Mingyu’s shoulder.

He whines a response.

“I have drugs for you,” you tell him, and he holds up an open palm without lifting his face.

You drop the medicine into his hand and get comfy back in your spot, even though you think you’re done sleeping for now. Beside you, Mingyu takes the pills and settles back into sleep. He’s snoring before you can even choose a show to watch on your phone.

You look over at him fondly, disaster that he is. Then you settle in deeper, content to let his warmth radiate over to you, content to be by his side.

–

[12:02am] Daeyoung: happy new year! wishing you luck and happiness ☺️

[4:23pm] You: thank you!!! to you as well!!

–

February

Valentine’s Day is an emotional minefield. You don’t know if you want to lean into the bitter and single thing, or if you want to go all Gal-entines and pamper your friends, or if you want to just keep your head down and treat the day like any other fuck-ass Tuesday in winter.

The universe surprises you with a secret fourth option. Or, rather, Daeyoung does.

You’ve lost track counting your dates with him at this point - you are simply dating. Neither of you has pushed for a what is this conversation, and you’re relieved. You like Daeyoung, you like the time you spend together, and you’d be sad if things ended. But at the same time, you don’t feel things getting deeper, and if he pushed you to make this serious, to put parameters on it, you’re not sure how you’d feel.

Something inside you keeps it light - enough so that you don’t even think of doing anything for him to celebrate the holiday.

Apparently, you’re an asshole.

Sometime after ten, your office’s secretary calls you, asking you to come up to reception for a minute. You’re suspicious, but you don’t do the mental math about what day it is until you turn the corner and see the small vase of roses - three of them, arranged with some baby’s breath and a few other fillers you can’t name - sitting on the reception counter.

“These got delivered for you,” she tells you, and it’s clear on her face that she’s dying for you to spill. “Are they from that guy? The tall one who looks like a movie star?”

This would annoy you if you weren’t so used to it. Everyone asks you if you’re with Mingyu - they never understand why you’re not when you two are attached at the hip.

It had happened once - just a kiss at a frat party, in the middle of the dance floor. You’d both been drinking, of course, and pressed close together to dance, his chest against your back and his hands on your hips and then you’d turned and tipped your chin up and his sparkling eyes had gone molten before he’d kissed you and your whole world had been swept away -

And you’d been interrupted, had been literally pulled away to deal with some drama happening in the kitchen, and somehow… you’d never talked about it. It never happened again.

Sometimes, you wonder if you only dreamed it. It wouldn’t surprise you.

But, no. Your imagination is good, but it’s not good enough to come up with the minute details of how his pecs had felt under your hands, how his fingers had felt pressed into the small of your back, how he had almost sighed into your mouth when it opened for him, how he had tasted a bit like cinnamon, courtesy of the fireball shots the frat was giving out like candy.

Anyway. Life goes on, right?

“No,” you tell the secretary quickly, because you know the roses aren’t from Mingyu. Even if he’d done something today, as your friend, he knows you aren’t much of a roses girl. “We’re just friends.” You will the words to leave your mouth without leaving ashes in their wake.

You reach for the small card tied around the thinnest part of the vase to see who did send them.

Thought you deserved something pretty today. Don’t freak out. :] - Daeyoung

The secretary is still watching you, harmlessly curious.

“It’s just a guy I’ve been seeing,” you say. “It’s not serious.”

“Wow,” she says, eyeing the simple arrangement. “Looks like he thinks it’s a little serious - or that it could be.”

“That’s probably true,” you muse out loud, taking the arrangement back to your own cubicle and setting it on your desk. You snap a photo and text it to Daeyoung with a thank you and a row of sobbing emojis. Then you stand behind your chair, eyes on the red petals, your hand pressed to your mouth, processing.

You didn’t expect to feel like this. A fluttering, a rush of excitement. Even though you aren’t into roses, specifically, the thought is very nice. And no one has thought of you, not like this, in a very long time.

When you get home, the apartment is dark and empty. You wonder if any of the guys have dates tonight, or if they’re working late, or with family. You set the roses on the kitchen table, hang up your coat, and then shoot the grouptext a quick “where is everyone?”. Then you head into your room, eager to take a quick shower and change into something comfy.

You freeze when you flick on your bedroom light.

The clutter on your small desk has been pushed to the side, and a clear vase holds a thick bouquet of sunflowers - your favorite.

You hear yourself gasp, the sound echoing through your head on a loop as you stare at the bright, yellow blooms. You step forward on shaky legs, reaching for the tiny card that’s slipped under the vase.

Sunny flowers for Sunny Baby. Love you. - M

The tears come with such unexpected force that you almost laugh through the third sob. You can barely see through the sudden stream of tears, can hear yourself struggling to inhale. You hurry to shut your bedroom door, locking it for good measure, and then those shaking legs of yours give up, and you sink to your knees and weep into your hands, trying to muffle the sounds, just in case anyone comes home.

You cry so hard it makes your abs hurt, makes the muscles in your face feel stretched, nearly makes you gag. You haven’t cried like this since undergrad.

Because he loves you, but he doesn’t love you, and even though you’ve been pretending for so long it’s as unconscious as breathing, it doesn’t shatter you any less.

Because he’s perfect, and he’s yours, but somehow you still don’t have him, and in the meantime no one else will ever be enough - just for not being him.

Because being thought of earlier by Daeyoung was nice, but it is so much better to be known, like this. Mingyu knows you don’t like roses. Mingyu knows your favorites. Mingyu knows you.

And it’s a waste. It’s all for fucking nothing.

When the tears start to settle and you can breathe a little better, you push yourself back to your feet. You listen at your bedroom door and don’t hear anyone, so you hurry across the apartment and into the bathroom, where you blow your nose and splash your face with cold water.

When you come out again, Jeonghan is in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, his back to you. When he turns, he freezes, his face dropping. You must be puffy and red, still.

“Hey,” you reply meekly.

“Oh, Sunny,” he says mournfully, stepping closer. “I told him he shouldn’t, but he asked why not, he’s your friend, and I couldn’t say -”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

He watches you carefully, probably trying to gauge if you’re lying. Then he spots the roses and lights up.

“Well, well,” he says, a sly smile showing up on his face. “Those are nice.”

“Yeah,” you say again, the only word in your arsenal. “They are. I, um, I think I’m gonna shower. Do you need the bathroom first?”

Under the spray of hot water, you cry a little more, like an aftershock hit you. It’s quiet this time, and you try to shoulder through it as you condition your hair, ready to put this whole episode behind you once you step out into the chilly bathroom air again.

When you emerge, Jeonghan is on the couch. By the sounds coming from down the hallway, Wonwoo has just gotten home and is dumping the contents of his life onto his bedroom floor. Jeonghan opens his mouth to say something, but you lift a fluffy-bathrobe-clad arm and silently shush him.

“It’s fine,” you say again, firmly.

Jeonghan had been your friend first, back in undergrad. You’d brought him into the friend group the same way Mingyu had brought Wonwoo. The four of you had worked cohesively as a friend-and-roommate unit for a long time, but sometimes those old alliances seemed to matter more than others. Jeonghan would never cross the line without your permission, would never tell your secrets if you weren’t willing to tell them yourself. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was much more likely to open his mouth - especially if he thought he was helping.

The front door bursts open, and Mingyu enters the apartment in a cacophony of noise and dropped items, oranges spilling from the bag in his arms and rolling across the floor. You move to pick a few up as he puts the bag of groceries down and pulls his boots off.

“Sunny!” he says, all excitement, eyes shining. “Did you like my gift?”

You can’t even look at Jeonghan, turning your back to him completely as you hold out the oranges you’d collected. Mingyu takes them, but watches you eagerly, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I loved it.”

His smile triples.

You were wrong when you said Mingyu was the sun. Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.

“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”

You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply.

All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.

“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”

“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.

You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.

Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”

Mingyu’s grumble responds, “Who do you think?”

–

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.

You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs.

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek.

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious.

“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once.

The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you.

The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.

The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you.

You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaeger bombs did you do?

He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed.

You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help.

“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”

You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembered saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…?

God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then - like on this fucking card with the sunflowers - he never said it like that, and you never pushed it.

Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed.

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.

Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu wouldn’t kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protected from.

You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.

“Mhm.”

He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better.

“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.

You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

March

March can’t make up its mind if it’s winter or spring. Warm days lull you into a false sense of security, and then a blistering cold rushes in just to call you a fool.

You’re the last one to get to the bar on Friday night after work, and you have to stand awkwardly next to the booth the guys have staked out and unwrap yourself - hat, scarf, gloves, puffer coat, big heavy sweater - before you can actually slide into the empty spot next to Mingyu.

“Hi bestie,” he says, immediately draping his arm behind your shoulders, resting on the back of the wooden bench. “How was your day?”

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” you answer.

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” your roommates all answer solemnly, because this is a common gripe.

“Fireball and ginger ale it is, then,” Mingyu says, and climbs over you to head to the bar, his own empty beer glass in hand. When he slides the cocktail glass in front of you and scoots back to his original spot, you fill the guys in on Marcus’s Bullshit of the Day.

“And then,” you finish the story, “I was like yeah, I know you did, Marcus, because she blind-copied me on her reply and you should have seen the color his face turned so I think it’s fair to say I won this round.”

“I’m surprised they aren’t all scared of you,” Wonwoo remarks.

“Marcus is,” you say, glowering at your now-empty cocktail glass. “That’s why he’s such a dick. He hates that he’s intimidated.”

Mingyu’s arm has slid down from the back of the bench and rests lightly across your shoulder by this point, and he gives you a playful squeeze into his side as he laughs.

He starts telling a story next, and you listen as you slip your phone out and check your texts. Daeyoung had texted you a while ago, and you shoot him a quick answer that you’re out with your roommates for Friday drinks, and then dial back into the conversation.

When Mingyu’s glass is empty again, you rise, taking the empties up to the bar and signalling for another of each. While you wait, elbows on the bar, you check your phone again. Daeyoung had texted back, asking where you guys were drinking.

You hesitate. The idea of incorporating Daeyoung into the group makes you nervous. Behind you, you can hear Mingyu yapping a thousand miles a minute, and Jeonghan’s distinctive heh heh heh in answer. It’s not that you don’t think the guys will be nice… it just feels like a big move.

It might be nice to have him there, though - someone on your side when Jeonghan and Mingyu gang up on you and Wonwoo is too in his own world to be effective back-up, someone to hold your hand and get your drinks, someone to be in your own private little bubble with when the conversation ebbs and flows away from topics you can engage with.

You send him back “just a little place by the apartment!” which is technically true, and then grab the refreshed drinks for you and Mingyu.

The guys are getting up, making noise about a just-vacated darts board, so you swivel and turn to follow them, a cold drink in each hand.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu tells you, half an hour later, bending down low so he can talk close to your ear over the loud music, “you have to put more muscle into it. You have to throw it like you want to pierce it.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious, actually!” you tell him cheerfully, and down the rest of your drink, pushing the empty glass into his giant hand. His turn.

He shoots you a grin so sharp and devilish that it makes your whole body fight a shudder, and then he disappears off to the bar.

You heckle Jeonghan through his turn (unsuccessfully - he’s way better at this than you) and then glance at the bar to see if the bartenders have gotten to Mingyu yet in the crowd. He’s facing you, his arms crossed, that same devilish smile on his face. He leans sideways on the bar, where your drink and his own beer sit sweating, forgotten.

The girl he’s smiling at has her back to you, which is a miracle, because if she’d been able to see your face fall, she probably would have back-pedaled out of the conversation immediately - it would be impossible for her not to see that she was walking into a flashing neon sign screaming this situation is a mess!!!!

When she laughs, throwing her head back, and reaches a hand out to touch his forearm, you feel the whole bar swoop sideways around you. You’re fumbling for your phone, even as you hear Mingyu’s answering laugh cut through all the loud music and conversations filling the space, even as you watch through your periphery as he gives her a return nudge to the shoulder, playful, that smile only growing.

You’re going to be sick.

You shoot Daeyoung a text - sorry, I should have told you which bar. I’m leaving now though. Do you want to come get me? We could chill for a little? - and then you push your way through the bar, not even bothering to tell Jeonghan and Wonwoo goodbye. You make an extra effort to skirt the opposite wall as the bar, hoping you get out without Mingyu spotting you.

There’s no way you could fake it right now. Zero chance. If he came after you, it would all be out in the open.

Daeyoung answers you almost immediately - no worries! sure, send me your location. you want to hang at my place?

Outside, the cold air assaults you. You immediately hesitate, wishing you’d grabbed your coat. You’ll get pneumonia waiting for Daeyoung without it.

You’re saved the trouble of going back in - the door opens and someone comes out after you. But it isn’t Mingyu - it’s Jeonghan, giving you the heaviest side-eye you’ve ever seen from him, your coat in his hands.

“Thank you,” you breathe when he’s close enough, taking the coat and sliding it over your arms. “It’s freezing.”

“Sunny,” he says, and something in his voice makes you pause. “I think we should talk.”

You cover your face with one hand, embarrassed and spent and tired. “About what?” you ask flatly, just to buy yourself a second. You know the answer. Of course you do.

He levels you with a look. “This can’t continue,” he says firmly. “For you, or for him, or for me and Wonwoo.”

You scoff. “What do you two have to do with it?”

You’ve never seen him this serious, and it scares you a little. “Do you think it’s easy for me to watch you get hurt?”

You lower your gaze to the ground and don’t answer this; it feels rhetorical.

“But you’re right - it’s not about us. It’s about you. Something has to give,” he says gently. “Either face it and get your answer, or let it go.”

“It’s not that simple,” you argue.

“Yes, it is that simple,” he retorts. “It’s just scary. But that’s not the same thing.”

“I can’t tell him,” you say, because it’s true. You can’t. You can’t. “What if it messed up everything for all of us?”

What if you lost him completely? What if he moved out? What if he stopped talking to you?

Jeonghan doesn’t reply to this at first, he just watches you carefully, then tucks a long strand of dark hair behind his ear.

“You can,” he says finally, still gentle. “But… if you won’t… then you have to let him go.”

Your stomach drops at the words, even though this is a truth you’ve been aware of for ages, have been doing your best to avoid.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you whisper. And it’s true - loving Mingyu feels as instinctual as your heartbeat, intrinsically part of who you are. How can you separate it out, shut it down?

“Stop sharing a bed with him,” Jeonghan suggests, and it’s so simple and straight-forward and correct that you can’t think of a single argument. “Quit texting him but ignoring everyone else. Stop cuddling with him on the couch after work. Quit-”

“Alright, I get it,” you snap, the defensiveness rising up again like muddy waters.

“I’m not sure you do,” he says, and the gentleness is gone from his tone; you’ve moved into the Tough Love section of the lecture, apparently. “You can’t keep playing house with him, pretending you’re together, and then falling apart every time he makes it clear that it isn’t real. You’ll never feel better like this. It will never change, Sunny. You’ll be like this, forever. Is that what you want?”

Your throat is tight and sharp, and you blink quickly, eyes on the ground again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he says it like he aches. Maybe he means it. “You could talk to him, you could at least see what he says -”

“No,” you interrupt. “No. I can’t do that.”

He shrugs, big and exaggerated. “Then move on. There are other people in the world who’d be happy to love you the right way. You can’t give any of them a proper chance if you’re holding it against them that they aren’t Mingyu.”

Like the one you ignored all night, who is still on his way to pick your ass up right now…

You push your hands against your eyes like you can block out the truth of what he’s saying, but you don’t say anything.

Jeonghan reaches out and rubs your shoulder. “I’m gonna go back in,” he says, gentle again. “It’s freezing out here. Just… think about it.”

“I’m thinking,” you say dryly.

He nods, then disappears back into the bar, the wave of sound crashing and fading as the door opens and closes.

You stay outside and wait for Daeyoung’s car, your hands going numb from the cold. You run the whole thing over and over in your head, replay Jeonghan’s words, daydream a hundred conversations with Mingyu each with different endings.

You think maybe you should take Jeonghan’s advice - put some physical distance between you and Mingyu, just as a starting point.

You hate the idea of it. But you know he’s right.

When Daeyoung pulls up, you slide into the passenger seat and tell him thank you, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He smiles at you, all sweet, and then whisks you away. Halfway to his place, he glances over at you.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he observes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, and then instantly feel bad for it. “Just… argued with my roommate. I’m kind of cranky.”

He reaches out and squeezes your knee once, reassuringly. “Well, you’re welcome to stay with me,” he says, and when you whip around to look at him, he laughs. “I wasn’t being presumptuous. I just meant if you needed some space from them, you’re welcome. That’s all.”

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat, settling back against the seat. “We’ll see.”

You keep your eyes on the window for the rest of the drive.

You wonder if Mingyu brought that girl home, and then you shove that thought away, because you’re letting him go, starting tonight, and those thoughts aren’t going to serve you anymore.

And then you wonder the same thing again five minutes later.

–

April

Winter softens, the temperature sturdies itself, and the season forms solidly into rain-logged spring.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu sings. Even on the greyest, soggiest days you turn to him like a plant turns to sun. “I’m bored.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you quip.

He drapes himself over you in retaliation, long arms and legs hanging heavy towards the floor as his torso smothers your face, drowning in you in his cinnamon-tinged scent.

You protest wordlessly and shove at him, and he laughs, his abs working near your chest with the motion.

“Entertain me,” he whines.

Things have been different - weird different, sometimes even bad different - for a few weeks now, all because of Jeonghan. You choose to blame him, anyway.

What he said to you plays in your head on loop all day every day, and suddenly you don’t know how to act right with Mingyu, causing you to overcorrect and swerve wildly. Sometimes you’re spending the entire day with him, touching and talking and leaning into it - then you think about it too hard and you spend the next two days icing him out.

It’s confusing for both of you. You can tell he notices, can tell he’s baffled by the change. More than once you’ve caught him looking at you like you’re a problem to solve - that face he makes when something isn’t working, or he’s got an equation of some sort to work out. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make you feel bad about it, doesn’t confront you, just takes what you’ll give him with a smile.

You haven’t gone to his room in the middle of the night since your talk with Jeonghan, either. It feels like quitting something. The withdrawal eats at your nerves, the cravings taking over until you can’t focus on anything else. More than one night since then you’ve laid awake, staring at your ceiling, heart pounding as you argue with yourself - just go, you’ll sleep and you’ll feel better waging war against Jeonghan’s you can’t keep pretending you’re together and then falling apart when he makes it clear that it isn’t real.

Each time, you’d ended up staying in your own bed. Jeonghan is right. You knew it when he said it, and you know it now. You have to let go if you’re ever going to be happy. You can’t keep living in the shadows of Mingyu’s life, waiting for him to come give you just a slice of himself and pretending to be sated by it.

“I can’t entertain you, you pain in my ass,” you say, as he allows you to roll his heavy body off of yours and onto the other side of your bed. “I have a date with Daeyoung in like an hour. I need to go shampoo.”

“Booooo,” he complains. Then he props himself up on one elbow and gives you that familiar look again - the math problem look. Not calculating, exactly, but definitely evaluating. “You’ve been seeing him for a while,” he remarks, and you can hear the effort to keep his tone casual, which makes you wonder what he’s hiding.

“Like four months,” you say, not sure if this is agreeing with him or not.

He nods, then rolls to face your ceiling, arms behind his head. It does disgusting things to his biceps, and you look away, sitting up and reaching for your phone to check the time.

“How’s that going?” he asks, still all casual.

“Good,” you say airily, still not looking at him.

“Sunny,” he says, a bit more seriously, and it’s enough to make you glance his way. He’s facing you, arms still behind his head, but watching. “Why won’t you talk to me about it?”

Ice flows through your veins so quickly that you have the urge to blow on your fingers to warm them. Talk to me about it. You take a calming breath, remind yourself that he’s asking about Daeyoung, not about your feelings in general.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “Just feels weird.”

“It didn’t used to,” he says, and you know exactly what he means. You’d always talked to him about anything - including boys and crushes.

He doesn’t ask so what’s different now, but you know the answer anyway. You’re afraid you’ll say anything, and Mingyu - who knows you better than anyone else - will hear everything you aren’t trying to say. How you feel about him, how you’ve been trying to create distance and boundaries, how it’s been unsuccessful because you have no sense of consistency, how you can’t seem to accept that you don’t get to have him, how Daeyoung is so nice and fun and cute but still can’t silence the urge behind your ribs that screams for Mingyu.

“Yeah,” you sigh, acknowledging that he’s right - that you used to tell him everything. “I don’t know, Mingyu. It’s good. I like him. Like… I don’t necessarily think he’s The One or anything, but I’d be upset if we broke up?”

Mingyu nods, something complicated on his face. “Well,” he says finally, “That’s good. I’m glad it’s going well. You deserve it.”

There’s something flat in his voice, and you stand because you can’t just sit there next to him right now.

“Thanks,” you say, because you don’t know what else to say. “Well… I’m gonna go shower so I’m not late.” You grab the few things you need from your room and pause in your doorway. He’s pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping slowly and his eyes on the screen, and you carry on across the hallway, leaving him behind.

The way you need to. The way you’re trying to.

Daeyoung takes you to dinner, making you laugh so hard you have to wipe under your eyes, and listening intently when you bitch about work (and, yes, Marcus in Accounting).

After, as you walk along the river, looking out at the lights, Daeyoung reaches for your hand, and you link fingers.

This is what you need - to lean into it with someone, to really try with someone. Maybe that will ease this process of shifting Mingyu to the background. Maybe you just need to try.

Like he can read your mind, Daeyoung slows, turning to look at you. He says your name hesitantly, and you match his slowed pace, waiting.

“We’ve been doing this for a while,” he says, kind of hesitantly, “and I kind of wanted to see if we’re on the same page.”

When you just look at him, he forges ahead, the words rushing out of him now. “I really like you, and I really like this… and I was wondering how you’d feel about… maybe being more official?”

You feel yourself flush, a smile tugging at your lips. “Are you… asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He smiles back, relief washing over his face. “Yeah,” he says, much more confident now. “Yes, I am.”

You lick your lips, suddenly unsure. “Daeyoung,” you say, and you watch his face fall. You hurry to amend - “No, I’m not saying no! It’s just… I don’t know… I feel like we’ve kept things pretty… light. And I just worry that if we get more serious and you see more of me… you might…”

You trail off. He watches you intently, and then finishes for you, “Change my mind?”

You nod meekly. What if you can’t do it - what if you can’t push Mingyu out of your head and heart, what if you can’t start fresh with someone? Daeyoung has been wonderful to you. He doesn’t deserve to get hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be second choice, doesn’t deserve to be a consolation prize.

You can’t say yes if that’s what this will be. You need to be sure you’re all in, you need to be sure you want him and not just the fresh start he represents.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say instead, quietly.

He considers this, watching you carefully. “Why do you think you will?”

It’s a fair question. “I’m… trying to get over someone,” you force yourself to say. He deserves to know what he’s walking into.

You watch his face for any change in expression. His expression does ripple a little, and then he licks his lips and asks, “And how’s that going?”

You scuff the toe of one shoe absently along the pavement. “Goes better when you’re around,” you admit. “But I don’t want to be… like… using you, I guess? It feels… unfair.”

He nods. “I appreciate that,” he says, looking away from you, at the river. He’s quiet for a while and then asks, “Are you into this? With me?”

“Yes,” you say emphatically, because despite the Mingyu of it all, it’s true. “I just don’t want you to end up with regrets.”

He smiles kind of ruefully. “Thanks for being honest,” he says, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“What are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper. You really hope you aren’t breaking up right now, but you wouldn’t blame him if he called it off.

He lets out a long breath, very slowly, measured. “I’m thinking that no one can make promises at the beginning of a relationship.”

Your stomach jolts, terrified, at the word. He continues, oblivious.

“But,” he says, “you just take it a day at a time. That’s all I’m asking for - just a day. And then maybe another. We can go from there.”

You consider this, that tiny smile returning. He waits for your answer.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Yeah. If you’re sure you want that, then… yes.”

“Yes?” he repeats, like he needs to be sure. He’s already grinning, despite the turn the conversation had taken on the way here.

You laugh, feeling suddenly shy. “Yeah. Yes.”

He kisses you next to the singing river, and later you take a selfie together beside a food cart. You post it to social media with a blue heart emoji for the caption.

You swallow hard and swipe roughly to remove the notification when Mingyu likes the picture minutes later.

–

May

“Kim Mingyu!” you bellow, scooping up an armload of shirts and socks from the living room floor. “Get your gross, sweaty clothes off of our shared couch! The hamper is like three feet away!”

“Yah,” he complains, coming to take the offending pile from you. “You never cared before!”

“Well now her boyfriend is coming over,” Jeonghan says, somehow making the word sound sleezy. “She wants it to be pretty in here.”

“I hate you both,” you say. “I only like Wonwoo. He’s my only friend. Wonwoo, you’re my only friend.”

Wonwoo gives you a very deadpan finger heart from his spot on the couch.

Unfortunately, Jeonghan is kind of right.

You’ve mostly spent time out with Daeyoung or at his place - mostly because he lives alone and you live with a cast of clowns. But he has come over a handful of times. Sometimes he’s only there long enough to stand awkwardly by the front door while you finish putting on jewelry and shoes before whisking you away; other times he’s stayed to eat take-away and watch a movie as the aforementioned clowns filter in and out, leaving snappy comments like use protection in their wake.

Tonight’s the first time that the plan is for everyone to hang out. To say you’re nervous is an understatement, as evidenced by the uncharacteristic way you pace the house, adjusting items Daeyoung has already seen out of place as if it makes any difference.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu finally says, coming up and putting his hands on your shoulders, trying to still you. You pull back from his touch as gently as you can, trying to make that space with some subtly. “Why are you freaking out? He’s been here before.”

“Yeah, you’re right, why would I be nervous?” you ask sarcastically. “Why would I be nervous to have my boyfriend come over for games and movies with three notoriously very nice people who never make trouble?”

“Rude,” Wonwoo remarks from the couch.

“Not you, Wonwoo, you’re my only friend,” you tell him without even turning your head. You hear Jeonghan snort.

“You said three,” Mingyu points out seriously, stepping back from you like he silently got the memo about space. “That includes Wonwoo.”

“Fine, I retract my statement. Two people who make trouble, and then one person who knows how to be normal sometimes.”

A knock on the door interrupts you before anyone can push your buttons any further.

“Be nice,” you tell them sternly as you head to open the door. “Be normal. For the love of god, at least try.”

“She has no faith in us,” Jeonghan says sadly behind you.

“We probably shouldn’t try Monopoly tonight,” Mingyu remarks, and you hate that he’s right.

You all almost broke up over Monopoly, once. You never played again.

“Yeah, put that one away,” you agree, as you pull the door open.

Daeyoung greets you with a smile and a small bouquet of flowers - nothing too fancy, just a little something. You pay for them with a smile and a kiss, lifting onto your tiptoes to reach his lips.

“Awwww, so cute,” Jeonghan coos from across the apartment.

“Jeonghan,” you say sharply. “What did we talk about?”

Daeyoung feigns a pout. “You don’t think we’re cute?”

You slap at his arm playfully and step back to let him in. You head to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers, listening as the men all exchange heys and how’ve you beens.

You all settle for a variation of Rummy, sitting around the kitchen table with a smattering of snacks and drinks, chatting easily as you play.

At the end of the second hand, you ask, “Wait, what does that put me at?”

“Sixty-two,” Daeyoung says, just as Mingyu says, “Sixty-three.”

You look at them both blankly. You and numbers don’t vibe.

Jeonghan looks at the little note on his phone where he was tallying scores. “Sixty-three,” he confirms.

“Whoops,” Daeyoung says apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to short you on points, sweetheart.”

All three of your roommates stiffen, and you feel your face heat. “No worries,” you say quickly, reaching to cut the deck for the next hand. “Whose turn is it?”

Be normal, be normal, be normal, you mentally beg the clowns.

“I think it’s mine, sweetie-pie,” Jeonghan deadpans. You kick him ferociously under the table, not even trying to be subtle, and he swears.

“Knock it off,” you growl.

“You’re upsetting pookie, hyung,” Mingyu says somberly.

“I hate all of you,” you whine. And then, on instinct, “Not you, Wonwoo.”

Daeyoung looks around the table, amused. “Is this always how it is around here?”

“Basically,” Wonwoo admits. “Just usually with a lot more -” He stops short, coughing, and reaches for his drink. You all wait, your heart thrumming nervously. You’re sure he’d been about to drop a crack about you and Mingyu’s physical affection. “A lot more yelling,” he finishes. “This is everyone on their best behavior, because Sunny threatened us.”

Daeyoung laughs, and you pray that the moment went unnoticed. You can tell Mingyu is a bit still on your other side, and if it was a month ago you would have reached over to him already, soothed a hand down his arm or pressed your cheek to his shoulder until he untensed. You rest your hands in your lap, instead, eyes on your cards.

After Rummy, which Jeonghan wins by a landslide, you all head to the couches for a movie. Your roommates and you have always had unspoken “spots”, but Daeyoung’s presence throws the balance off entirely. Normally you’d be next to Mingyu but he takes Jeonghan’s spot, leaving the other guys to buffer as they try to figure out a new arrangement.

“Here,” Daeyoung says, tugging on your wrist until you settle on his lap, legs hanging just off the side of his own, “we can make room.”

Jeonghan tosses you a small blanket and a wink and settles in on the far side of your couch, giving the two of you lots of room. Wonwoo flicks off the overhead lights and settles next to Mingyu, the two of them awkwardly squished on the two-seater. But, blessedly, no one complains as the opening score emanates from the sound bar.

As the movie begins, you relax, leaning sideways against Daeyoung’s chest, his arms looped around you. You stomp down on the intrusive thought that wants to compare how comfortable this is to how comfortable you’d been with Mingyu for past movie nights, internally hissing at your own brain for the unwelcome thought.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice low, only for you, one hand rubbing the small of your back lightly.

“Mhm,” you assure him, reaching up to kiss the edge of his jaw, the only bit of him that you can reach comfortably. He smiles down at you, endeared, and then turns his attention to the television again. You can feel someone’s eyes on you, but you refuse to look, refuse to give attention to whoever is trying to heckle you right now. They can’t just let you live, huh?

Halfway through the movie, Mingyu stands, moving out of the way of the screen quickly and heading to the kitchen. You don’t lift your head from Daeyoung’s check, just watching him go through the corners of your eyes.

“Anyone need a drink?” he calls from the kitchen. “Hyung? Sunny Baby?”

Daeyoung physically recoils, his head snapping back so he can look at you, wide-eyed. You look back at him the same way, feeling like you’ve been caught at something.

“It’s just habit,” you say, quietly, and Jeonghan turns away, shifting awkwardly next to you two. “Old nickname from a million years ago.”

Daeyoung nods, but his face is still a bit stricken.

“Hello?” Mingyu calls from the kitchen. “Beer? Anyone?”

“No, thanks!” you call back, trying to force your voice to come out cheerful.

When he returns, flopping unceremoniously into his spot next to Wonwoo, Daeyoung’s arms tighten around you.

You close your eyes, frustrated. You hope you can salvage this. You’d been afraid from the jump that the Mingyu factor - even with the changes you’ve been purposely making, all that space - would damage what you have with Daeyoung, as effective as a drop of ink in a bucket of water.

When the movie ends, Wonwoo gives a polite goodbye and vanishes into his lair and you lead Daeyoung back towards the front door. Behind you, you can hear the tell-tale clicks of bottles as Jeonghan and Mingyu start picking up the food and drinks.

“I’m sorry,” you say, as soon as you have some semblance of privacy in the entryway. “I knew hanging out here was going to be a mess.”

Daeyoung manages a smile. “It wasn’t a mess,” he says. “I just didn’t realize how close you all were.”

He’s being too nice. You feel terrible.

“I think we might get less close very soon if they can’t get their shit together,” you grumble, which makes him laugh, some of the tension alleviating.

“Well,” Daeyoung says, suddenly turning conspiratory, “while your place was very fun… what would you say to some fun at my place now?”

You giggle. “I wouldn’t hate that plan,” you say coyly, smiling up at him. “Quieter, there. Fewer clowns.”

He laughs again, even as he reaches to tilt your jaw up, shuffling you backwards against the entryway wall as his lips find yours.

As the kiss warms you, your hands finding the front of his shirt and bunching it into your fists, heat beginning to trickle out of hiding in your belly, you hear footsteps and an abrupt, “Oh - shit - sorry - my bad -”

“Your place,” you say against Daeyoung’s lips as Mingyu retreats back to the kitchen. You can practically feel through the wall how red his ears are.

Daeyoung lets you out of his embrace and you hurry to your room to toss a few things together - toothbrush, phone charger, clothes - and come to get your jacket.

“Bye, idiots!” you call through the apartment. Then, “Not you, Wonwoo!” and you close the door behind you with a giggle, following Daeyoung down the stairs.

On the other side of the wall, safely hidden in the kitchen, Mingyu stands staring blankly at the pantry, one hand over his mouth, still as a statue. What is this feeling churning in his gut? He feels sick, and he can’t put a name to it but he hates how it crawls through his system.

Jeonghan appears next to him, placing two more dirty cups in the sink. He lets out a single, wry laugh when he sees Mingyu standing there.

“Yeah, dude,” he says easily as he leaves again. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

–

June

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unfurling with distant thunder and a smattering of fireflies lazily drifting through the trees beyond the garden. His arm brushes yours and you can hear his breathing as he exhales slowly.

You feel happy - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those distant cracks of ferocious thunder. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your joy has to burst from you, just like the clouds on the horizon.

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You wake up with faint tear-tracks on your cheeks, and you growl out a frustrated breath.

“I need a lobotomy,” you grumble, wiping at your cheeks and trying to get comfortable again, hoping to go back to sleep - with less ridiculous dreams.

It doesn’t happen. You flop from side to side over the course of half an hour, and then give up. You reach for your nightstand to see if you have any water, but there’s nothing but your phone and the lamp. With a sigh, you push yourself out from under the blankets and pad into the kitchen.

You’re letting a glass fill with tap water when you hear one of the other doors down the hallway open. You turn, peering through the moonlit living room, to see who else is up. The clock above the stove says it’s four in the morning.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu says, his voice rough with sleep. His hair is sticking up in the back. Your stomach lurches with the sick desire to smooth it down. “Why are you up?”

“Had a bad dream,” you lie. It was a good dream. Nothing bad about it until you wake up and feel guilty because of Daeyoung, and angry because your brain and heart are holding you fucking hostage. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.” That part’s true.

“Poor Sunny Baby,” he croons, coming closer, the darkness making his form seem even bigger. “Come on - we’ll get comfy.” Just like we used to, he doesn’t say.

Your heart slams against your chest. “Oh,” you say softly. Because, yeah, a few months ago you wouldn’t have even needed him to invite you - you would have been there already, snuggling into the space next to his ribs, breathing him in until sleep returns to you. “Mingyu, I can’t.”

The blanket of darkness makes him bold. He scoffs, not even trying to hide it. “Why not? Because of that guy?” Like he doesn’t know Daeyoung’s name, like the last five months never happened. That guy.

“Because I want to respect my relationship?” you correct gently. “Yes, that’s why. It wouldn’t be right, and you know it.”

You stand in silence for a moment, barely able to see each other across the darkened space, at an impasse. Then, he scoffs again, lighter this time.

“Fine,” he says, moving past you towards the bathroom - probably the reason he was up in the first place. “Suit yourself.”

When he passes back through the living room on his way back to bed, you’re curled up on the couch under one of the blankets, the tv on with the sound turned low. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns down the hall and shuts his bedroom door behind him. You hear the lock click. You press your hands to your face and will yourself to breathe deep. Crying over him while asleep is one thing. Doing it while awake feels like a betrayal.

Just one more you can add to your list.

–

“Hey!” you yell across the noisy room. Mingyu turns from where he’s standing near your bedroom door, talking to a few guys who you’ve seen around here but whose names you forget. Seok… something. The other one might be a Chan, you’re not sure. Mingyu lifts an eyebrow, waiting for whatever request you’re going to shout at him.

“Can you get the door for me?” you call, trying to be louder than the music and chatter. Your apartment is bursting with people as Mingyu’s annual summer bash is well underway. You’re at the pong table - your kitchen table, shoved halfway into the living room - a slightly sticky plastic ball in hand. “Daeyoung is here, I can feel my phone going off.”

Mingyu gives you a wordless salute and shuffles off towards the front door, and you close one eye, lean forward as far as the others will let you without calling a foul, and line up your shot.

You sink it just seconds before you feel someone’s hands on your hips. You straighten up and turn to greet Daeyoung with a kiss, firm and confident courtesy of many drinks. The party’s been going for a few hours already, and you and the guys pregamed before the guests started showing up.

“Hi!” you chirp when you part. “Glad you made it!”

“This is a lot of people,” he says back, looking around your living room and kitchen a bit incredulously. “You said you guys do this every year?”

You nod seriously. “We bribe our neighbors. I mean, they’re all invited of course, but we also try to do something nice to make up for the one night of noise. Last year I baked cookies. This year we just went straight to cash.”

He laughs, and you lead him through the throng of people into the kitchen for a drink.

“I’m glad you came,” you say again, as he stands before the open fridge, scanning beer bottle labels for something palatable. He sends you a smile over his shoulder, then picks a bottle and turns. You place the opener into his waiting hand.

“You look good tonight,” he tells you, all glinty, looking at you sideways. You pretend to preen.

“Sunny always looks good,” Jeonghan asserts, breezing in behind you holding a bowl full of chips.

“Are you sharing those?” you demand. “You can’t gatekeep the good ones, Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this.”

“Gatekeep, girlboss, whatever the third one is!” he replies, zipping back out of the kitchen as quickly as he’d come.

Out in the living room, you hear the familiar sound of the karaoke machine booting up. There’s a telltale scraping - the pong table being shoved against the far wall to make more room for jumping around while aiming for that perfect score.

When you and Daeyoung make it into the living room again, Mingyu and one of the friends whose names you forgot are singing together. Mingyu’s all irony, eyes closed in mock passion as he clutches his mic with both hands, but his friend is actually good, voice sailing over the higher notes without error.

“Wow,” you say. “That guy can actually sing.”

One of your friends, a girl you lovingly call Ethel because of the style of grandma glasses she favors, stops in front of you, pushing little plastic shot glasses into your hands.

“Are you the boyfriend?” she asks Daeyoung, somewhat breathlessly. “I’ve been dying to actually meet you. She’s been keeping you a secret.”

“I have not!” you reply hotly, as Daeyoung laughs, introducing himself.

“It’s nice to meet her other friends,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I know, it’s hard to separate her from these guys,” she says. “They deserve a sitcom.”

“I’m standing right here,” you protest.

Jeonghan appears behind you, too close. “We have a little problem in the kitchen,” he whispers.

You excuse yourself, leaving Daeyoung with Ethel - who will hopefully say nothing too incriminating about you and Mingyu’s blurry-lined friendship.

In the kitchen, Wonwoo is kneeling on the floor, his upper body hidden in the cupboard under the sink. When he shuffles back out, the front of his shirt is wet. You can see a bit of water starting to pool on the boards below the cleaning supplies.

“Uh oh,” you say.

Mingyu appears to your left, solid and warm against your arm. Then he crouches, peering under the sink.

“Can I have someone’s phone?” he asks, and you pass him yours. He turns on the flashlight and shines it at the pipes. You watch his face do that thing - that calculating look, the problem-solving look.

“It’s this one,” he says, pointing to something you can’t see under there. “Where’s our toolbox?”

“Great question,” Wonwoo says, mouth twisting as he tries to remember. “Laundry room?”

“I think so,” you say. “I think it’s on the shelf in there.”

Mingyu scoots out from under the sink and disappears into the little nook you all graciously call a laundry room, since it does have a functional door, then reappears with two tools in hand. You don’t know what they are - you’ve never needed to.

You and Jeonghan and Wonwoo stand around him, worried, like you’re waiting for a doctor to emerge through hospital doors to report on the status of a loved one. When Mingyu backs out of the cabinet again, it’s with an air of smugness.

“All set,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking proudly.

“Our hero,” Jeonghan deadpans.

“This is why we keep you around,” you tell him.

“Get the man a shot,” Jeonghan says, swiveling to the collection of bottles on the counter.

Daeyoung finds you on the kitchen floor, using a rag to wipe up any bits of water. Wonwoo and Mingyu both disappeared to change into dry shirts, you think.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him, wiping one last spot and leaning up on your knees to look around for any areas you might have missed. The last thing you need is for someone to slip in here. “The sink broke. It’s okay now, Mingyu fixed it.”

“Well, thank god for Mingyu,” he says, and you look up at him, not sure if you’re imagining the edge in his voice. Are you? Did you project that?

“Well,” you say, “kind of! Because four of us live here, and only one person could solve the problem.”

He laughs reluctantly. “I can fix a sink,” he says, a bit of a pout in his voice.

You stand, returning the rag to the counter. “I’ll make sure to ask you first next time,” you say, leaning up to brush your lips teasingly across his. “I just thought the rent-payer should handle the problem before the guests.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he allows, smiling bigger.

A while later, you find yourself in Wonwoo’s room, leaning against the wall watching somewhat absently as he and one of his friends play a POV shooter game, their brows furrowed in concentration and fingers flying on the controls.

Daeyoung had been with you only moments ago, reporting into your ear on the game’s happening like a sports commentator to make you laugh, but he’d gone to get you each a new drink. Mingyu appears in his absence, and you can tell immediately that he’s sloppy.

“Sunny Baby,” he sings, draping an arm over your shoulders.

You can’t help but smile, even as you try to shift out from under his arm. “Yes?” you sing back teasingly. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “You can stay just like this.” He wraps his other arm around you, and you laugh, pushing very gently at his chest.

“Mingyu,” you protest, laughing. “Get off me.”

“I will in one second,” he says, smiling cheekily. “You haven’t let me hug you in a hundred years, I have to take advantage now that your defenses are weakened by cheap vodka.”

“Mingyu!” you laugh again.

And then you see Daeyoung in the doorway behind him, face unreadable.

“Mingyu,” you say again, deadly serious now. “Let go.”

Daeyoung slowly reaches to put the two beers on Wonwoo’s dresser and turns, wordlessly retreating down the hallway.

“Damn it, Mingyu,” you hiss, extracting yourself and hurrying to follow him. Daeyoung makes it clear outside and down the front steps before you catch him.

“Daeyoung, wait!” you call, and he finally slows, turning to face you. You jog to catch up, a bit breathless. You’ve had way too much to drink for this kind of confrontation, but you try to get your shit together enough to defend yourself. Or apologize. Or both.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrows and waits.

“Don’t -” you start, and then switch tracks quickly. “That was nothing. He’s like that when he’s had too much to drink. He’s just being silly.”

Daeyoung laughs once, sharp and sarcastic. “Don’t lie to me,” he says flatly.

“I’m not!” you protest. “It’s true.”

He shakes his head, swipes his thumb across his phone screen and taps around.

“Don’t leave,” you beg. “I’m sorry. I was trying to tell him to let go.”

He twists his mouth, refusing to look at you. At the far end of the street, you can see approaching headlights. He’s ordered a ride home.

“When you said you were trying to get over someone I didn't pry,” he says flatly, “but I guess I should have. You could’ve had the decency to tell me that you live with him.”

The slam of the car door feels final, the sound passing over you like shrapnel.

The blink of red taillights has just vanished around the corner when strong arms wrap around you. Mingyu must have followed, must have been watching from the door, must have seen it happen.

You’ve been trying to make space, you’ve been trying to stay away, but you’re buzzed and you’re sad and you’re weak. So, you turn in his arms, burying your face in his shirt and letting yourself cry.

He holds you through it, doesn’t say anything to you, just holds on tight until you can breathe again.

“I don’t want you to see this,” you sniffle finally, and he lets his arms drop, stepping back so he can look at you. “This shouldn’t be you.”

“That’s fair,” he murmurs, sounding much more sober than he had inside. “But I’m the one who’s here. Tell me you want me to go, and I will.”

Your heart cracks.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he says, wrapping you up again, leaning his chin on the top of your head and swaying you a little bit. “Then I won’t.”

Eventually, you both lay in the grass. You don’t want to go inside, and Mingyu says he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the front yard. Instead, you lay side by side, far enough away that you’d have to stretch to touch. It feels like that night in undergrad, but also completely opposite. In your memories of that night, you felt warm and good like your place in the universe was guaranteed, your cog in the great machine fitting perfectly and spinning without difficulty. Tonight, you feel off, cold and angry, like your piece has been displaced and can’t fit anywhere anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to make problems for you guys.”

“I know you didn’t,” you allow.

“It was just us being us,” he says, a bit defensively.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think that was the problem.”

He has nothing to say to that.

Daeyoung calls you, much later, when you’re back inside and tucked in your bed.

“Were you sleeping?” he asks.

“Of course not,” you say. “I’m lying awake agonizing over you storming out on me.”

He laughs quietly, and you feel hope bloom behind your ribs. Is this salvageable?

“I might have overreacted,” he admits. “It’s easy to be intimidated by that guy.”

That guy again. What is it with these two?

“You shouldn’t be,” you tell him. “He’s an idiot.”

Daeyoung laughs again. “So am I,” he says.

“You don’t need to worry about him,” you say. “I’ve been really trying to adjust the boundaries of our friendship, and it’s a big change from how we used to be. Usually we do better… Like I said earlier, he was drunk. He just forgot himself, went back to how things used to be.”

Daeyoung is quiet for a second. “I should have let you explain yourself before I left,” he says evenly.

“I’m sorry I put you in that position in the first place,” you counter. “I didn’t mean to. I’m in this with you, Daeyoung. I promise.”

“I know,” he admits. “I know you are.”

You smile into the phone. “Our first fight.”

He laughs again. “Hopefully not one of many.”

“Eh,” you say. “It’s normal. Anyway, I’m glad you called. I would have been a mess waiting to hear from you. Might have embarrassed myself blowing your phone up.”

“Maybe I should have let you embarrass yourself,” he teases.

“It’s like that, huh?” you joke.

“Yes,” he sniffs. “Until I feel better.”

When you finally hang up, you creep through the apartment to pee before trying to sleep. You notice Mingyu’s light is on, though his door is shut. You pause, looking at that sliver of light, and then continue on back to your own bed.

–

July

“Move over!” you giggle, using your hips to scoot Daeyoung out of your way, a wooden spoon in your hand. The simmering stew on the stovetop smells delectable, and you give it a stir, make sure nothing is stuck to the bottom of the pot.

“Ask nicely!” he retorts, but he’s smiling.

Mingyu watches the scene covertly from the couch, trying to keep his face neutral, trying to keep his face tilted towards the tv so he doesn’t get caught watching. Or worse, caught sulking.

You and Daeyoung eat and wash up most of what you used to cook, offer the leftovers to anyone around to hear you (so, just Mingyu), and then leave, giggles and flirting dissipating and leaving Mingyu in a quiet that he absolutely can’t stand.

When you return the next day, trying to look nonchalant with your overnight bag clutched in your hands, Mingyu is at the kitchen table, eating some of the leftovers and watching videos on his phone.

“Hey,” he greets you, pausing the video.

You give your overnight bag a light toss; it lands with a thump over near the couch. “Hey yourself,” you say, heading into the kitchen for a drink. “The food’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “Your man can cook, huh?”

“Hey!” you object. “I did most of the work!”

“Hmm,” he says, rising and coming into the kitchen to rinse his plate.

You cross your arms, eyes narrowing. “Hmmm what?”

He shrugs teasingly. “We’ve lived together a long time, Sunny. I have a hard time believing you’re the chef in that relationship. You never helped me cook anything.”

Your eyes narrow even more. “You never asked me to,” you retort, suddenly defensive. “There’s a lot of things I do with Daeyoung because you never asked me to.”

Silence falls on the kitchen like a rockslide.

Mingyu takes one very careful step backwards. “Because I never asked you to?” he echoes, his voice shaking just slightly.

Your pulse races, and you fight a wave of nausea. A Freudian slip if there ever was one.

“That you never asked me to,” you amend firmly.

Mingyu hesitates. Then, “I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

That defensiveness moves inside you like a thing alive, your temper flaring in an effort to protect you.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, suddenly pissed.

Mingyu doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t match your temper at all. Calm and steady, he says, “So then you tell me. How do you feel, Sunny?”

That rockslide hits you. You can’t breathe, too bruised by the onslaught. All the years of secrets and feelings and broken rules and truths that you knew but pretended not to spill around you, impossible to escape.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” you hiss at him. “Not now. That’s not fair.”

His calm cracks, just slightly, his tone going hard. “What are you talking about?”

“Why now, Mingyu?” you demand. “Why now, when I have someone? Why not any of the years before now, when I was only yours?”

You’re breathing hard, having spat the words like they’re venom, and you wait him out. He blusters, splutters, has nothing to say to this.

Your temper pulls you like a wave, a momentum you can’t fight.

“You don’t know the answer?” you ask sarcastically. “That’s fine - I can tell you: because you had me. You had me, and you didn’t need to share me, and you could still do whatever - or whoever! - you wanted and I’d still fucking be here afterward.”

You know exactly the moment you start crying through the words, because Mingyu’s body jolts, like he instinctively moved to touch you but remembered to stay back.

“And now?” you continue, because you’re on a roll, everything you’ve held in for years finally bursting from you with the fury of a cracked dam. “Now that’s changed. So, what is it? You want your toy back now that someone else is playing with it?”

“Of course not-”

“Fuck you, Mingyu! You sat me on the shelf for too long. I don’t deserve that.”

“Sunny, no,” he tries again. “It isn’t like that. I lo-”

“Yes, it is!” you shout. You’ve never shouted at him in your life, and it actually shuts him up. Tears are still streaming down your face, but you ignore them. “It is, and until you see that, I can’t expect you to change it or fix it.”

You start to storm past him, but you whirl on him, a finger pointed in his direction. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you love me!” you add furiously. “No you don’t. Not the right way, not like this.”

And then you slam out of the apartment, barely remembering to grab your keys off the hook as you go.

–

[5:22pm] You: if i send you a list of what i need, can you please put a bag together for me and leave it in the hall

[5:22pm] (jeong)Han Solo: :( sunny

[5:22pm] You: hannie please??? i can’t go inside. i really can’t.

[5:23pm] (jeong)Han Solo: he’s a fucking wreck

[5:23pm] You: i don’t care

[5:24pm] You: i mean of course i fucking care that’s the whole problem

[5:24pm] You: please? my things?

–

August

August 3

[10:02am] Mingyu: sunny please talk to me

[12:17pm] Mingyu: please let me apologize to you

[12:17pm] Mingyu: i dont want to do it over text but you wont answer my calls and no one seems to know where you are

[12:22pm] Mingyu: you were right. about all of it.

[12:22pm] Mingyu: and you were right that you dont deserve it

[12:22pm] Mingyu: please call me back or come home so i can say this to your face

[5:38pm] Mingyu: there’s one part you were wrong about

[5:38pm] Mingyu: i do love you. the right way. maybe it took losing you to someone to get my ass moving but i loved you way before he was in the picture

[5:38pm] Mingyu: dont ever question that again

[11:04pm] Mingyu: god, sunny, answer your phone!

August 4

[7:43am] Mingyu: you’re killing me

[7:43am] Mingyu: are you happy sunshine???? KILLING ME!!!

[1:36pm] Mingyu: come home

[1:36pm] Mingyu: please

[8:02pm] Mingyu: we HAVE to talk about this, sunny

[11:51pm] Mingyu: i’m not going to give up

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: are you staying with daeyoung for a while?

[10:23am] You: no. my mom’s.

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: ok. im glad you’re with someone who can care for you.

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: we miss you :(

August 5

[8:00am] Mingyu: fine, i’ll say everything over text like an asshole

[8:00am] Mingyu: just know you made me do this!

[8:04am] Mingyu: i fell in love with you in undergrad when you had to take that statistics class that you almost failed. when you saw your midterm score was passing you told me i love you for the first time and i swear to god i almost proposed to you right there. And it never went away. It was never less.

[8:08am] Mingyu: i love you because you wield your attitude like both sword and shield. I love you because you can barely count but you make me feel so stupid sometimes with how clever you are. I love you because you’re beautiful and funny and empathetic and you make me want to be better than i am. I want to be more competent for you, to be able to take care of you and provide for you when you need it. I love you because when i’m sick you take care of me and you let me take care of you when you’re down too. I love you because when i’m with you i feel like someone’s GOT me, someone understands me and has my back.

[8:09am] Mingyu: i cant believe youre making me say this all in TEXT i hate this!

[8:10am] Mingyu: i have more. I have a hundred more reasons.

[8:10am] Mingyu: come home so i can tell you

[11:58pm] Mingyu: goodnight sunny baby. Please come home soon.

You show up to Daeyoung’s unannounced. His face is grim when he opens the door; you haven’t answered his calls or texts in a few days, either. He probably knows what this is.

“Hi,” he says, stepping backwards to make room for you in his doorway. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry I vanished,” you tell him. “Something happened. I’ve been at my mom’s.”

He eyes you warily, like he’s not sure if this is a I got in a car accident kind of something, or a I cheated on you kind of something, and he doesn’t want to react for the wrong one. “Okay…” he says slowly.

“Daeyoung,” you say, after taking a breath to steel yourself, “I care about you, and I like you, and I have real feelings for you.”

“I sense a but,” he says dryly.

You smile sadly. “But I dont think this is fair to you. I shouldn’t be with someone - anyone - until I’m over him or he’s out of my life… and I can’t seem to make either of those things happen.” You don’t need to say which him. You both know. “I wanted to. I wanted to do it right and I thought I was… but I was wrong.”

He shrugs, face blank. “Okay.”

“Daeyoung.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, frustration seeping into his tone. “I can't argue with any of that. I can’t change it for you. I can’t be better than him, I can't become him. You’re right, you shouldn’t be with someone else if what you really want is that guy.”

That guy. Again.

“You’re right,” you whisper, looking at your feet.

He lets out a breath. “So, it’s done then?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Daeyoung. I hope someday you can believe that this isn’t how I wanted it to go. You deserve better.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t let you go out with any optimism. You and your misery trudge back to your mother’s, fall asleep in your childhood bed.

August 6

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: i have more things to say today

[8:00am] Mingyu: i will give you two 2️⃣ minutes to respond or you get it all thru text AGAIN

[8:00am] Mingyu: and you know how i feel about that.

[8:03am] Mingyu: fine.

[8:03am] Mingyu: you’ve always been so fucking stubborn sunny. just let me apologize to you!

[8:05am] Mingyu: i’m sorry i kept you on hold

[8:05am] Mingyu: you’re right. that’s what was happening. but i didn’t MEAN it like that.

[8:05am] Mingyu: idk if you believe me bc i can’t see your face 🙄

[8:06am] Mingyu: but its true. I just… liked how things were. Youre right… i counted on you always being there waiting for me.

[8:06am] Mingyu: i thought it was okay though… i thought if you wanted it to change you had the power to change it

[8:07am] Mingyu: like, you could have said something to me.

[8:07am] Mingyu: and i dont mean that like its your fault or anything, it was just how i rationalized it to myself. Like if you werent complaining then it must be fine?

[8:09am] Mingyu: i’m an idiot

[8:14am] Mingyu: but i’m an idiot who loves you, and misses you, and wants to do better

[11:59pm] Mingyu: please come home

[12:32pm] You: i broke up with him.

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: are you okay???

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: come home so we can take care of you!!

[12:58pm] You: i cant face him. not yet. im not ready

August 7

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: i’m sorry i took you for granted. even if we walk out of this only trying to repair the friendship, i swear i’ll never let it happen again.

[11:58pm] Mingyu: goodnight sunshine. I love you.

August 8

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: dont work too hard today

[8:00am] Mingyu: dont take any shit from marcus in accounting

[12:12pm] Mingyu: having lunch. call me if you want? it doesnt have to be heavy. Just hello.

[12:39pm] Mingyu: i need you back sunny. in whatever capacity youll let me have.

[11:57pm] Mingyu: hope you had a good day. Goodnight, i love you.

August 9

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny

[11:58pm] Mingyu: please. Please come home.

–

When you return home, a week after you left, it’s nearly dawn, the light from outside the living room just turning blue enough that you can see the outlines of the couches as you close the door as quietly as you can.

You step lightly, avoiding the spots you know will creak and groan when you step over them. You peer down the hallway to see that the guys’ doors are all shut, no lights on - not even the blues of Wonwoo’s computer monitor.

You open your door and look around; your room looks exactly how you left it, down to the glass of water on the nightstand, now nearly empty. Except… the blankets on the bed are wrong. You set your bag down gently next to your dresser and creep closer, squinting through the dimly lit room.

A dark head of hair peeks out from under your comforter.

You can’t help it - you smile to yourself. For all the things Mingyu is - intelligent, funny, athletic, competent - he’s also a big baby. And he’s sleeping in your bed, because he misses you, and it comforts him.

It makes you want to forgive him for every wrong, press your lips to his sleepy forehead, listen to him lisp out Sunny Baby.

He hurt you, it’s true. But you believe it that he was lying to himself, pretending things were fine. Weren’t you doing the exact same thing? You can’t hope Daeyoung will forgive you for your mistakes if you aren’t willing to do the same, too.

You close your bedroom door and approach your bed. Mingyu stirs, making cricket legs under the blanket and stretching one arm towards the empty side. Towards you, though he doesn’t know it yet.

Then he freezes. His voice comes out paper thin. “Sunny?” he asks, pushing himself to sitting.

“This is not your bed,” you tell him, and he launches himself across the mattress, scrambling to reach you.

You allow him to wrap his gangly arms around your middle, pulling you to him as apologies pour over his lips so fast that he’s nearly babbling.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pushing at his shoulders. You back away and he follows like he’s tethered to you, clambering from the bed and standing before you.

For a moment, you just stare at each other through the thick blue of encroaching dawn.

And then he says your name.

Not Sunny. Not Sunny Baby. Your real name.

“I am so sorry - for everything,” he says, the ache in his voice clear and open. Then he drops his voice to a pained whisper. “Please. Tell me I can fix it.”

You press your lips together, looking at him. He looks awful - like he hasn’t slept much, or been eating well. You feel a little bad that you stayed away for so long, but you’d needed the time by yourself. You’d needed the clarity of being alone to figure out what you want.

“I think we can,” you whisper back, since the rest of the apartment is still sleeping. We, because this was on both of you.

He crushes you in a hug, surrounding you in the smell of cinnamon, his cheek pressed to your head. “I’m sorry,” he breathes into your hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please let me try and do better.”

“I broke up with Daeyoung,” you respond, and he snaps his mouth shut, stepping backwards to stare at you.

“Why?” he asks finally, hoarse, like he can barely get the word out.

You look up at him. “Because it wasn’t right to be with him. It wasn’t right to be with him when I’ve been in love with someone else the whole time.”

He closes his eyes, his whole body seeming to sag.

“I forgive you,” you say quietly, “and I do believe that things will be better now. If we talk about it - if we’re working together to make it better.”

“Yes,” he says quickly, desperately. “I will - I’ll do whatever I need to -”

“Both of us,” you say again, emphatically. “You were right, this wasn’t just your fault. I let this go on for… years. I counted marks against you but I never once spoke up.”

“No,” he protests, shaking his head. “It was my fault, Sunny, I took it for granted and I should have been loving you, spoiling you -”

You laugh. “I mean, maybe,” you say. “But if I’d talked to you… maybe you would have been.”

“I want to now,” he says. “Can I? Will you let me?”

You smile up at him, and he grins back, taking your smile as an answer.

You reach up and touch his eye-tooth gently with a fingertip. “Your stupid fang is so fucking cute,” you whisper. “It is truly unfair how cute it is.”

He pretends to scowl at you. “We’re having a serious moment, here, Sunshine.”

You smile again, gentler this time. “I love you,” you tell him. “If you want to prove you can do this right… then I’m all in.”

He whispers your name again, then looks at you.

His eyes are molten again, the way they were the night you’d had your only kiss. It’s almost hypnotizing, the strength of his gaze on you, pulling you in wordlessly until your body is flush with his. You look up at him, breathless.

“I’ll start proving it now,” he murmurs, so low you barely catch it, and then his mouth snags on yours, forceful, his hands cupping your jaw gently, a juxtaposition.

He touches you so tenderly, his fingers feather-light against the skin they uncover as you undress each other in hushed silence. It feels holy, somehow.

He licks spices and heat into your mouth, trails calloused fingers down your bare arms, pulls your hips into his as his teeth trace down your jaw, makes sure you feel his want for you.

You slide your hands from his waist up his stomach and over his pecs, revelling in how he hisses and leans into the touch.

“Wanted to do this for years,” he grumbles, like he’s complaining, before lowering his lips to your chest, sucking on supple skin to see how you like it, then doing it harder when you dig your fingers into his shoulders, gasping at the sensation.

“Should’ve,” you scold, even as your eyes close and your head tilts back. “Could’ve been.”

But you aren’t thinking about your wasted time when he kneads both hands in the meat of your ass, or when you slide a flat palm up the length of him, delighting in the weight and heat you find straining against his Calvins. You’re thinking about how his hands are searing, about how you want to taste him but maybe not yet, not this first time. You’re thinking about his fingers sliding between your legs and the belly-deep rumble he makes when he feels how ready you are for him.

And when you finally come together, his mouth pressed to yours as he lays you back on the bed you’ve shared countless times, you’re only thinking about him and his beautiful smile and molten eyes and infectious laugh and empathetic heart. When he’s pushed as far into you as your bodies will allow, his hips tight against you and a whine slipping between his lips, you’re overcome with emotion. As you adjust to him, his eyes trace your face, and he reads what’s there with perfect clarity.

“Love you, Sunny Baby,” he whispers into the crook of your neck.

You swallow against the thick rise of feelings and run your fingers through his hair. “Move for me,” you beg. And when he does, it’s just as perfect as the rest of him.

You press your forehead to his when you come, his thumb rough on your clit and his mouth gasping broken breaths against your lips, pulsing around him in waves so dizzying you think they trigger even more. His hair sticks to his forehead as he presses deep inside you, and he shelters you between mountainous arms as he finally lets go.

Mingyu is sunrise, leaking orange and pink and yellow and white and chasing away a world of purples and blues. He’s so bright you have to squint, a promise of a fresh start, an end to the darkness of night.

He’s perfect. He’s perfect, and you love him, and finally you can have him.

You lay in his arms, heartbeat slowing bit by bit, and feel wholly at peace - like everything finally settled into place, everything landed exactly as it was meant to. Your cog in the universe, spinning correctly at last, grooves fitted perfectly to Kim Mingyu’s.

The peace lasts…. until you check your phone.

[8:26am] (jeong)Han Solo: when you two are DONE…. we went out for breakfast if you want to join 🙄

—

November

“Baby,” Mingyu says, but it’s stern. “Quit fixing the pillows.”

“It has to be perfect in here!” you whine.

Mingyu wraps his arms around you like a cage, squeezing until you’re laughing too hard and drop the throw pillow from your hand.

“They lived with us for years,” he says, entirely too rationally. “You can’t fool them.”

He releases his hold on you so you can turn and pout at him. You’re about to protest - argue that it’s Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s first time visiting you and Mingyu’s new place, that this is momentous, a special occasion - but you’re cut off by an obnoxiously outlandish knock on the front door.

“I’ve got it,” Mingyu tells you. “You just try to relax.”

You will, in just a second. But first, you lean over to the candle you have burning on the coffee table and adjust it just slightly to center the label, which reads Fall Harvest and Cinnamon.

thank you so much for reading!!!!

2K notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 4 months ago

Text

haircut — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you're caught off guard by spencer's haircut content warnings: mention of stuffing yourself with ice cream and popcorn a/n: boyband spencer makes me feel things so i just had to write this

You pushed open the door to the conference room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of paper and ink from the stacks of case files spread across the table.

Penelope Garcia was already seated. She looked up from her laptop the moment you entered, her eyes lighting up as she greeted you.

"Good morning, sunshine!" she chirped, holding out a file for you.

You smiled, the warmth of her energy making the early morning a little more bearable. “Good morning,” you replied, taking your seat beside her. “Thanks, Pen.”

She gave you a playful wink. “Always here to deliver your daily dose of doom and gloom.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair, settling in. “How was your weekend?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Penelope sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, my dear, it was divine—a full 48 hours of zero crime, binge-watching the most ridiculous reality shows, and eating a huge amount of popcorn. A true masterpiece of relaxation.What about you?” Penelope asked, her eyes fixed on her computer screen as she attempted to pull up the PowerPoint for the case briefing.

You sighed, stretching slightly in your chair. “Same thing,” you admitted. “Spent the weekend on the couch, barely moving, while shoveling buckets of ice cream down like it was my full-time job.”

Penelope gasped dramatically, turning to you with wide eyes. “You didn’t move? At all?”

“Barely,” you confirmed, already missing the comfort of your couch. “Honestly, I think I might have become part of it.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she finally got the PowerPoint to cooperate. “Respect,” she said, clicking through the slides.

Before you could respond, the conference room door opened again, and the rest of the team started trickling in. Hotch took a seat next to you, as he opened his files, while JJ leaned toward Penelope, the two of them quickly falling into conversation.

You glanced around the table, scanning the usual faces—until you noticed an empty seat.

Spencer’s seat.

Your brows furrowed slightly. He was never late. If anything, he was usually one of the first to arrive, sitting quietly with his coffee, already halfway through the case materials before anyone else had even opened their files.

When JJ and Penelope began presenting the case, you had no time to let your anxieties cloud your judgement regarding the empty seat. voices pulling you back into work mode.

That was until JJ suddenly smirked and said, “Well, hello.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to her, confused by her reaction—until you followed her gaze.

And then, your mouth fell open.

Spencer had just walked in.

But not the Spencer you had been expecting.

He looked… different.

Not in a bad way. Not even in a way you had the right words for. Just—different.

His normally tousled curls had been cut shorter, neater, styled in a way that framed his face and somehow made him look even more—God help you—attractive. It was a change you hadn’t been prepared for, and from the silence that briefly passed over the team, you weren’t the only one caught off guard.

Spencer gave a small, almost shy smile at JJ’s reaction before heading to his seat. He settled down on the other side of Hotch, setting his bag on the table.

Hotch barely looked up from his file as he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “What, did you join a boyband?”

A small frown creased Spencer’s face. “No,” he replied, the petulant tone in his voice making a few people chuckle.

Conversation quickly resumed, the team diving back into case details as though nothing had happened. But you? You were barely processing a single word.

Your mind was too busy reeling.

Your eyes kept drifting back to Spencer, betraying you as they traced over his new look. The sharpness of his jaw, the way his now-shorter curls curled just slightly at his temples, the way his freshly cut hair made his cheekbones stand out a little more.

This was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Because if you had thought Spencer Reid was cute before, you had no idea how you were going to survive this version of him sitting across the room from you every day.

As expected, Hotch wrapped up the briefing with his usual stern voice. “Wheels up in thirty.”

The room stirred with movement as everyone gathered their files and bags, preparing to head to the jet. You slung your bag over your shoulder, but not before sneaking a few more glances in Spencer’s direction.

Unfortunately, you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

At some point during the meeting, Derek had caught you staring—not once, not twice, but multiple times. And when your eyes met his across the table, he grinned knowingly, amusement flashing in his gaze.

You had felt your face heat instantly and quickly looked away, pretending to be very focused on your files.

Smooth. Real smooth.

You got up, ready to make a quick exit before you could embarrass yourself further, but just as you turned toward the door, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“Hey—uh, is it okay if I ride with you?”

It was such a simple question. A question he had asked before. Sometimes Spencer drove with Derek, other times he rode with you. It was normal. Casual.

So why did it suddenly feel like the most dangerous thing in the world?

You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Your usual response would have been an easy, effortless “Yes. Of course.” But today? Today, you could barely meet his eyes without feeling like your brain short-circuited.

Because he looked that good.

Still, you forced yourself to nod, offering a quick, “Sure.”

You kept your gaze trained on the hallway as you stepped out of the room, hoping that if you avoided looking at him, your heart would stop hammering against your ribs.

Unfortunately for you, Spencer had already fallen into step beside you. You stepped into the elevator together, the metallic doors sliding shut with a soft ding.

A silence settled between you, not entirely uncomfortable, but not the easy kind you were used to with Spencer either.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him tapping his shoe against the floor—a habit you’d picked up on over the years. Spencer only did that when he was nervous.

That surprised you.

He never did that around you.

You and Spencer were close—so close that sometimes it felt like too close. Like the kind of close that made your heart race when he so much as looked at you a certain way. And today, with his new haircut and the way his suit fit just right, that feeling was overwhelming.

Your eyes flickered to the floor, watching his shoe tap against the tile before glancing up at him.

Big mistake.

Because the moment you did, your heart flipped in your chest. He looked so good, and that single thought refused to leave your mind no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

You quickly looked away, biting your lip, hoping he hadn’t noticed your staring.

But of course, he did.

“If it’s a bother,” Spencer suddenly spoke, his voice quiet as the elevator hummed downward. “I can drive with Derek to the airport instead.”

Your stomach twisted at the suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him in the car with you—it was that you wanted it too much. And now he had clearly picked up on your avoidance, which only made your embarrassment ten times worse.

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head as the elevator dinged again, signaling your arrival. “You’re not a bother at all.”

You barely gave him time to respond before stepping out of the elevator, making a beeline for the parking garage.

Spencer followed closely behind, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his gaze on you.

You unlocked the car, and Spencer slid into the passenger seat beside you. Normally, by this point, the two of you would already be knee-deep in some random discussion—whether it was a case, a bizarre fact he recently read, or a debate about which movies held up over time.

But right now?

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that came from years of understanding each other so well that words weren’t always necessary.

This was different.

Spencer was quiet because he sensed something was off. He was a profiler, after all—he could read people better than anyone, and he had definitely picked up on your shift in behavior.

And you? You were silent because you feared that if you opened your mouth, you’d do something completely mortifying. Like stutter over your words. Or say something dumb. Or worse—blurt out the fact that you had spent the entire morning internally spiraling over how ridiculously good he looked today.

Your fingers curled around the steering wheel, your gaze fixed ahead.

Beside you, Spencer set his bag down at his feet, shifting slightly in his seat. You could feel the weight of his stare even without looking at him.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said suddenly, staring straight ahead. “I promise there’s nothing wrong. I guess I’m just… off today.” You exhaled, fingers tapping absently against the wheel. The last thing you wanted was for him to think he wasn’t welcome here. “And I am happy to drive us to the airport.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, but then, in a soft voice, he asked, “Do… do you want to talk about it?”

You swallowed hard, pulling out of the parking lot. The road stretched ahead, but your mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, each one worse than the last.

What were you supposed to say?

Oh hey, Spencer, funny thing—I literally cannot look at you right now because you’re so insanely attractive that I might actually die on the spot?

Yeah. Probably not the best thing to say to a coworker—and more importantly, to the friend you’d been secretly crushing on for longer than you cared to admit.

So instead, you shook your head, offering the safest response you could manage.

“No, it’s nothing.”

You weren’t sure if he believed you. But for now, he didn’t push.

The drive to the airport was short, but thankfully, Spencer had started talking about the case almost immediately. You were relieved—you could focus on the conversation instead of the way your heart kept stupidly skipping beats.

Plus, driving gave you an excuse to not meet his eyes.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? His eyes.

Warm and intelligent, always analyzing, always seeing you in ways that made you feel exposed. So, you kept your attention on the road, discussing victim profiles and behavioral patterns.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the airport lot.

You parked carefully, turning off the engine as the conversation about the case trailed off. Both of you got out, grabbing your bags before heading toward the jet.

It wasn’t until you were walking side by side—no distractions, no case details to focus on—that Spencer suddenly asked, “What do you think of…” He hesitated. “My haircut?”

You froze for half a second, your grip tightening on the strap of your go-bag.

Oh.

Oh, no.

You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“Uhm—” You stuttered, caught completely off guard, your brain scrambling for a normal, casual response.

You walked slower, suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. Spencer matched your steps, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced at you, waiting.

Finally, you swallowed and forced yourself to speak. “It looks great,” you said softly. “I like it.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Yeah?” His lips curved into a small, pleased smile.

“Yeah,” you nodded, willing yourself to keep it together.

But then—because the universe apparently wanted you to suffer—your mouth betrayed you.

“I mean, it makes you look…” You trailed off, but Spencer was still watching you, waiting for you to finish, and oh god, you were already in too deep. You cleared your throat. “Really handsome.”

Spencer blinked.

Your stomach dropped.

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Heat immediately crept up your neck, and you snapped your gaze forward, walking faster in hopes of escaping your own embarrassment. But Spencer—being Spencer—was too damn observant for his own good.

His eyes widened slightly, something clicking in his mind. His posture straightened, his brows lifting ever so slightly as realization dawned.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding my eyes.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your breath hitched.

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head as you picked up your pace, the jet now in sight. If you just got inside, if you just sat down and pretended this conversation never happened, maybe—maybe—you could salvage what was left of your dignity.

But Spencer wasn’t letting it go that easily.

“Wait—” He reached for your wrist, his touch light but enough to stop you in your tracks.

You swallowed hard.

Slowly, reluctantly, you turned to face him, keeping your eyes trained somewhere near his shoulder instead of his face.

Spencer let out a soft breath, studying you. “So… I was right?”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Your heart was pounding.

“About you avoiding my eyes,” he clarified, his voice softer now, more careful.

You exhaled sharply, forcing a nervous laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—no, I just—” You sighed, giving up mid-sentence. Lying to Spencer Reid was pointless. He could probably read you better than you could.

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was debating whether or not to reach for you again. Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes flickering across your face, searching for something. “You think I look… handsome?”

You groaned, shutting your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. “Spencer, please.”

But he wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t smug. He looked genuinely curious.

And that—somehow—was worse.

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes, okay? I think you look… really good.” You avoided his gaze, focusing on a spot over his shoulder. “Too good, actually, which is kind of annoying because it makes it really hard to—” You stopped yourself before you could say concentrate at work like a normal human being, realizing how that sounded.

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, as if surprised by your admission. But then, slowly, his mouth curved into a small smile.

Not a smirk, not teasing—just… soft.

Warm.

And something about that undid you a little.

“I didn’t think you noticed things like that about me,” he admitted quietly.

Your eyes snapped to his.

Was he serious?

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “Spencer, are you kidding? Of course I notice things like that about you.”

His smile faltered just slightly, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face before he looked down, like he was processing that.

The jet door opened in the distance, voices echoing faintly from inside, but neither of you moved.

Then, after a long moment, Spencer glanced back up at you.

“I think you look really good all the time,” he said simply.

Your breath caught.

Before you could respond, a voice called out from the jet—Derek, naturally. “You two coming or what?”

You cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away from Spencer’s as you took a step toward the jet. “Yeah, coming!” you called back, trying to keep your voice steady.

Spencer fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, but his small smile remained.

And as you both climbed the steps to the jet, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this conversation wasn’t over yet.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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alinathinkstoomuch · 4 months ago

Text

Filthier Flat-Pack Thoughts

18+ MDNI pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: your boss rejects you the first time but what happens when he's the one in charge? (part 2 of Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts, but can be read as a standalone) warnings: baso porn w/o plot, hotch has a filthy mouth, reader and hotch both have a thing for mirrors... p in v sex, fingering, idk man i got carried away, enjoy xx (not proof read, dont come for me) word count: 5.6k ✧ masterlist

You had taken the coward’s way out when Monday came. But really, what else were you supposed to do after throwing yourself at your boss and getting let down?

So, instead of facing the consequences of your actions – or worse, facing him – you sent Hotch a text claiming you weren’t feeling well and asked if you could use your PTO for the day.

He didn’t respond. Not directly, at least. But just before the usual morning briefing, Garcia had texted you.

Feel better soon, sunshine!!!

Accompanied by enough emojis to make your head spin. Which meant he must have told them. Which meant that it was fine. And yet, the thought of him seeing your message, reading it, and choosing not to reply left a pit in your stomach that you weren’t ready to unpack.

You just needed one more day.

One more day to shake off the mortification, to stop replaying every humiliating second of Friday night in your head, to convince yourself that come Tuesday, you would walk into work and pretend none of it ever happened.

You didn’t want the day to go to waste so you tried to be productive, throwing yourself into the thing that would keep your hands and mind occupied - finally unpacking.

And you had mostly succeeded.

Most of your boxes were empty, your things finally finding a place in your new home, and after an embarrassing amount of time, you had even managed to put together your bedside table. But despite the distraction, despite the minor victory of assembling furniture without Hotch’s help, the second you sat down, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, it was still there.

That awful, gnawing awareness that sooner or later you were going to have to face him.

You decided that a hot shower might help wash away the lingering shame clinging to your skin. You turned the water up almost too hot, as you stood under the shower head, hands pressed against the cool tiles.

It was fine.

You just needed to stop overthinking it. Hotch wasn’t cruel. He had let you down gently. He had done the right thing. So why did your stomach still twist at the memory of it?

By the time you stepped out, your body felt warm, relaxed - your mind, less so. You pulled on one of your softer, more delicate chemises – a small indulgence in comfort you desperate needed. Then, with a sigh, you settled onto the couch, grabbing your phone and tapping through your contacts.

Garcia picked up on the second ring.

“Ah, my fallen soldier! How are we holding up?”

You groaned, shifting on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. “I’m fine, Pen. Just taking a day to recover.”

“As you should, my dear. Self-care is critical after a weekend of… whatever happened that has you hiding away.”

You rolled your eyes, stretching out against the cushions. “Moving, Penelope. Moving has be hiding away. It is truly an exhausting process.”

Garcia hummed, evidently not convinced by your little white lie. “Well, boss man seems exhausted too. Or just very tense and broody. I can’t tell anymore, his scowls are all starting to blend together. Did he maybe pull a muscle helping you with your furniture or something?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Penelope -” you started, only to be cut off by a knock at your door.

You froze.

“Okay, who have you sent to my door this time?” you muttered, pushing yourself up from the sofa.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m not the mastermind behind all surprise visitors.”

You didn’t believe her for a second.

Still, you pulled on your robe, tugging it over your chemise as you made your way to the door. The fabric felt softer than usual, almost fragile, like it wasn’t quite enough of a barrier between you and what was waiting on the other side.

Balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder, you tied a loose knot at your waist, fingers fidgeting with the belt as Garcia sighed dramatically on the other end.

“Well? Who is it? Spill.”

Your hand hesitated over the lock, a second of hesitation turning into two, three, before you finally turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Your stomach plummeted.

Because there he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Standing on your doorstep – again. Looking every bit like the man you had spent the last two days trying to avoid, trying to forget, trying not to replay in your head on a never-ending loop.

“Let me call you back, Garcia,” you murmured absentmindedly, already pulling the phone away from your ear, hanging up before she could even think to respond.

Because right now, the last thing you needed was an audience.

You barely registered the sound of the line disconnecting, too focused on the man standing in front of you. Hotch didn’t speak right away, didn’t explain why he was here, didn’t offer you anything to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

He just watched you, which was almost worse.

You had been bracing yourself for tomorrow, telling yourself that by then, the weight of everything would have settled just enough for you to fake your way through the awkwardness, to act like Friday night had never happened.

But here he was. Now. And the fragile plan you’d built to protect yourself had just gone up in flames.

“Can we sit?”

His voice was softer than you expected. Softer than you were ready for.

You pressed your lips together, shifting on your feet, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe, grounding yourself in the feel of the fabric, something real to hold onto.

A moment passed before you finally stepped aside, nodding slightly.

"Yeah."

Your lips pressed together as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe.

He moved toward the couch, and you should have followed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you lingered near the doorway, arms crossing over your chest, putting space between you. An invisible barrier, as if it could protect you from whatever was about to come next Hotch noticed, of course he did. His gaze flicked over you, reading every tiny shift in your posture, every hesitation, every instinct to put distance between you.

And still, he didn’t push. Not until he settled on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sit, angel."

It was the way he said it – so soft, so steady – that you almost weren’t sure you’d heard him right. You sighed, resigned to the fact that there was no avoiding this conversation and lowered yourself onto the couch, leaving enough space between you.

A brief pause stretched between you. He was studying you, assessing you, trying to read you. And you suddenly felt so exposed despite the layers of fabric now separating you from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone feeling dangerously close to concern.

You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You came all this way to ask me that?”

“Did you take today off because of what happened Friday?” he countered your question with another, leaning forward.

You expected the question, but hearing it out loud – acknowledging it – made you ache all over again. You dropped your gaze, fingers toying with the edge of your robe, avoiding his eyes like that somehow could make this easier. “I just… needed a day.”

Hotch nodded like he understood, like he had already known the answer before you even said it. His expression softened, and when he spoke again, it was even gentler than before.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, too quickly.

Hotch didn’t look convinced, your name falling from his lips.

“I mean it,” you continued, making yourself sound certain. Trying to convince yourself as much as him. “You were kind, Hotch. You let me down in the nicest way possible. I appreciate that.”

“But –”

“I just needed today to clear my head,” you cut him off. “To remind myself that you were right.”

His brows furrowed. “Right?”

You let out a quiet, humourless laugh, dropping your eyes to your lap again. "That Friday night wasn't... real," you murmured, more to yourself than him. "It was stress and exhaustion and maybe a little too much wine. I let it get the best of me. It was a mistake."

The silence that followed was too long. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, waiting for him to agree, to tell you that yes, it was a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened, that you were right.

“Is that what you think?”

You looked up, brows pinching in confusion. “I mean…” You faltered, searching his face but it gave nothing away. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

Hotch let out a breath, his fingers pressing into his thigh. “It wouldn’t have been right,” he said finally.

Maybe that should have been enough of an answer, maybe you should have left it alone. But you didn’t. Because something about the way he said it, the way his voice dipped slightly, made your stomach tighten, made the words slip out before you could stop them.

“That’s not the same as saying you didn’t want it.”

The moment they left your lips, you wished you could take them back.

His jaw clenched, his muscle ticking once.

And just as you started to convince yourself you had imagined this whole exchange, just as you prepared to backpedal, to fill the silence with some half-hearted attempt at smoothing things over, the most beautifully damning words falling from this mouth -

“I did want it.”

The air left your lungs in a sharp, breathless rush and you felt the room tilt.

“Then…why –”

“Because you deserved better than that.”

His words were firm, absolute, wrapped in the same conviction he carried into every case, every impossible decision.

“Hotch –”

“You’d been drinking,” he continued. “You’d had a long week and I know how quickly having too many things lined up at once overwhelms you.”

That sentence alone was enough to unravel you because he really did know you. He knew how your mind worked, knew how pressure built inside you until it spilled over.

“And I would have spent the entire next day wondering if I’d just taken advantage of you.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet honesty in his words, at the careful way he measured them, as if he had thought about this. As if it had sat with him just as much as it had with you.

And fuck, you didn't know what to do with that.

“You wouldn’t have. I didn’t need to be drunk to know that I want –” you hesitated, “–wanted you.”

He looked up at you, like he was weighing every single word you’d just spoken, turning them over in his mind like pebbles, making sure he heard you right.

“And what do you want now?” he asked lowly.

He was giving you the choice. No leading words. No hidden meaning. Just a simple, open-ended question.

Your stomach twisted, nerves and something warmer curling in your chest, in your belly, in the space between your ribs.

"You," you admitted, barely above a breath. "I still want you."

He nodded slowly. “Then take me to your bedroom.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d even heard him right, but the look on his face told you that you had. A sharp pulse of awareness ran through you, so strong it made your fingers clench into the fabric of your robe. You weren't sure you'd even be stable on your feet after hearing those words from his mouth, but you were sure as hell going to try.

Before you could move, he stood first. Your eyes followed the movement, unable to look away as he shrugged off his jacket, the rustle of fabric filling the space between you. Then came the cufflinks – carefully removed, set aside-before he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the strong lines of his forearms, the flex of muscle, the way his veins shifted beneath his skin.

And then, he reached for you. His hand open, waiting. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching, but all you found was patience and certainty.

“Only if you’re sure.”

Your fingers tightened around his.

You were sure. So damn sure.

You rose to your feet, and the moment you did, his other hand moved to undo the knot of your robe. His fingers worked it loose, the tie slipping free with ease, his breath coming just a fraction heavier as the fabric parted, revealing the delicate, pale pink lace beneath.

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his eyes dragged over you, taking you in inch by inch, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every detail.

And then he nodded toward the hallway. “After you.”

You turned, leading him down the hall, toward the first door on the right.

The soft glow from your bedside lamp spilled into the room, casting warm shadows against the walls. You silently thanked your past self for leaving it on –it was just enough light to see him, to see this, without feeling too exposed.

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, moving toward the end of the bed. You didn't speak, didn't need to. You just waited, for his next instructions, for his next move.

Hotch's eyes swept over the room, taking everything in. It was still bare, not yet lived in, not yet filled with you –a work in progress, much like the two of you.

But then his gaze snagged on something. The full length mirror that rested against the wall, directly opposite your bed. You saw the moment he noticed it—the slight shift in his stance, the way his lips twitched, like he was already picturing something.

And then he moved.

Came to stand behind you, his hands finding your shoulders, warm and sure, guiding you just slightly until you were perfectly centered in front of it.

“That’s a very pretty mirror.”

Your eyes tracked every movement through the reflection, mouth parting, but for once you had no words. Then his lips brushed against your hair, barely there, but the heat of it lingered, seeping into your skin, into your bones, branding itself in a way you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake.

“Did you put it there so you could watch while you touched yourself?”

A slow, molten heat curled through you, pooling deep in your belly, spreading down between your thighs. Your legs tensed on instinct, pressing together as his fingers traced over the bare skin of your arms, feather-light, teasing, making you ache.

“Hm, sweet angel?”

You nodded meekly, biting down on your lip to supress the moan threatening to escape – one he had earned with nothing more than words.

“Did you do it after I left?”

Your sharp inhale gave you away, your body betraying you before you could even think of forming a response. Your back arched into him, fingers twitching as he intertwined them with his own, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.

The mirror didn’t lie. You looked ruined already and he had barely touched you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Use that pretty mouth before I find something else to do with it.”

That didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed. “Aaron, please.”

A slow, satisfied hum rumbled against your back as his hands finally moved higher, fingers ghosting over your nipples.

“Did you start from here?”

You felt dizzy. So dizzy that if you weren’t leaning into him, if he wasn’t holding you up, you were sure you would’ve collapsed. His right hand drifted lower, tracing the outside of your thigh while his left gripped you tighter, his palm kneading into your flesh.

“Or did you start with your thighs?”

You could feel his smirk against you skin, could see it in his reflection – the way his dark eyes met yours in the mirror, the way his lips curled at the edges as his fingers edged higher, inching toward the heat between your legs.

The fabric of your slip bunched up in his fist, silk riding up your thighs, baring you to him, exposing your lace panties.

Hotch exhaled slowly, watching the way the delicate material clung to your body.

“Show me, pretty girl.” His fingers flexed against your thigh, his grip firmer now. “I want to see what I missed out on.”

You looked at him through the mirror, eyes wide, lips parted in a soft pout because he couldn’t possibly be asking you to do this. Could he?

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your thighs instinctively pressed together again, only to be met with his hand keeping them apart. A breathless sound escaped you, your body betraying you yet again, and his smirk deepened.

You knew what he wanted. And so, with shaky fingers, you moved your hand. His grip loosened slightly, giving you just enough space for your fingers to brush over the lace at the apex of your thighs.

“Atta girl.” His lips skimmed the curve of your jaw. “Show me. Show me how you thought of me.”

Your lashes fluttered, breath catching as your fingers dipped beneath the lace. Maybe it was a good thing it was your own touch and not his, because if he felt how wet you were, if he had proof of just how much you wanted him, it would only feed into his smugness.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that.

Hotch hummed in satisfaction, his right hand trailing up, covering yours, guiding it, controlling it as you started rubbing slow circles over your clit. His touch wasn’t hurried. Wasn’t forceful. It was intentional, like he wanted you to feel every second of this – feel what it was like to have his hand over yours, dictating the rhythm, deciding exactly how much pleasure you were allowed to take.

“Did you say my name?” he asked, voice rough. “Did you pretend it was me?”

Your lips parted, a desperate, needy noise slipping past them, your body trembling as he watched.

“Look at yourself.”

You forced your heavy eyes open, meeting your own reflection and you barely recognised yourself. Your body was trembling against his, your slip bunched at your waist, panties pushed aside, thighs twitching as you fought for air.

“What do you see, angel?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers faltering as his words wrapped around you, sinking deep into your stomach.

“I see a pretty girl who falls apart the second I tell her to.”

Your entire body shook. A fresh whimper broke free, your knees threatening to give out as his left hand tightened at your waist, keeping you upright, keeping you his.

“Please, Aaron –” Your voice was wrecked, desperate. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

His exhale was slow, like he was savouring the sound of you breaking. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you want me to take over?”

You nodded feverishly, too fast, your entire body screaming for relief. “P-please. I need you to.”

His grip on your wrist loosened enough for you to pull your hand away as he replaced it with his own. And then – God help you – his fingers moved.

A slow, deliberate drag through your slick folds, teasing, testing, until he found exactly what he was looking for. His touch was immediate and so much better than your own. A broken moan slipped past your lips, your head falling back onto his shoulder as your thighs quivered, struggling to hold yourself up.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice rich with satisfaction, like he had known this would happen. “So much better when I do it for you, isn’t it?”

Your only response was a chocked sob, your hands grasping at his forearm, nails digging in, pleading.

You felt him smile against your skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His pace quickened, precise and devastating, and you pressed into him – your body instinctively seeking more, needing all of him. And that’s when you felt it. The undeniable proof of what the sight of you like this had done to him. The thick, hard press of his arousal against the curve of your ass, straining against his slacks.

A fresh wave of heat rolled through you, a cry slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Hotch groaned – actually groaned – his hips pressing forward, just enough to let you feel him.

“You feel that? That’s what you do to me, angel.”

Your breath hiccupped, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, your thighs clamping around his wrist, body trembling on the edge of something catastrophic.

“Aaron –”

“Be a good girl for me, hm? Come for me.”

And you did.

Your body tensed, your back arched, and then you shattered, a strangled sob escaping your lips as he worked you through it, whispering low, filthy praises into your ear, his grip never faltering.

Your body slumped against his, boneless, spent, your breathing uneven as you struggled to come back down. And when your hazy eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror, the sight made your stomach flip all over again.

“How was that, angel?”

He knew you would never be able to touch yourself again without thinking of this. Knew he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

“Really good,” you breathed, head lolling back against his shoulder, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

His lips curled into a knowing smile before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good, honey. But I’m going to need you to take everything off and get on all fours.”

Your stomach tensed.

Fuck.

He was trying to kill you.

His hands finally released you, giving you space to move, but not before he watched.

Waited.

Your fingers were unsteady as they found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly, peeling away the last barrier between you. The silk slipped over your head, landing somewhere on the floor, followed by your underwear.

The air hit your bare skin, goosebumps trailing in its wake but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was him and the way he looked at you. You turned toward the bed, moving to crawl onto the mattress when his voice stopped you.

“Not the bed.”

You bit your lip as you turned back to face him, your pulse skittering in your throat. He was still fully dressed, still so composed when you were the exact opposite. His gaze dragged down your body at an achingly slow pace, taking his time, allowing himself to drink you in – every inch of you, every part he hadn’t gotten to see a few nights ago.

“The floor, angel. Right in front of the mirror.”

Your body burned as you complied, knees wobbling as you lowered yourself onto the floor. You positioned yourself exactly where he wanted, your palms pressing into the cool surface, your back arching slightly – offering yourself to him.

And the second you settled, the second you caught his gaze in the mirror you saw it. The way his eyes devoured you. The way his gaze landed between your thighs, locking onto your bare, glistening pussy, and the way his lips curled.

That bastard smirked.

Smirked at the mess between your legs, at what he had done to you.

You watched as he lowered himself behind you, his broad frame closing in, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a second skin. A sharp inhale tore through you as you felt the press of his thumb collecting the wetness from your folds, spreading it, claiming it.

And just as you started to adjust to the feeling, just as your body tried to catch up – his thumb was gone, replaced with his middle and ring finger, teasing at your entrance, then slowly, slowly pushing inside.

A sound left you, something between a gasp and a whimper, something utterly helpless, so desperate it made your skin burn.

He chuckled.

“You can use my fingers, honey. But you’re going to have to do the work.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his through the mirror.

He wasn’t kidding. His fingers stayed inside you, buried deep but he wasn’t moving them. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, desperate for friction, for more but he stayed still.

“Go on,” he said, his other hand pressing down on the small of your back, encouraging you. “Make yourself feel good.”

Your palms flattened against the hard surface beneath you, bracing yourself as you moved – tentative at first, a slow, testing roll of your hips as you slid down onto his fingers. The stretch had you sucking in a sharp breath, your lips parting around a whispered curse.

And he watched. His eyes never left you, locked onto your reflection in the mirror, tracking the way you rocked against his hands, the way your thighs trembled as you found your rhythm, the way you used him exactly the way he wanted you to.

But still it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed all of him, buried deep inside you, stretching you open in ways his fingers never could. But he wasn’t offering that, so you took what you could get. You bucked your hips harder, forcing more friction, forcing the stretch, chasing what you knew only he could give you.

A sharp cry slipped from your lips. “Fuck, Aar –”

“I know, baby.” His fingers twitched inside you, pressing just enough to make you gasp, just enough to remind you he was still in control “I know.”

And then, just as quickly, they were gone.

A desperate whimper spilled from your lips at the sudden loss, your body clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving a sharp pang of need that made your head spin. And yet, before panic could settle in, before you could beg for him, you heard it.

The click of his belt buckle.

Your head moved up to meet his eyes in the mirror just in time to see him work the leather through the loops before letting it drop to the floor with a thud. He never broke contact as he reached for the button of his slacks, undoing it before the soft sound of his zipper filled the room.

He took his time.

Watched you squirm, watched the way your thighs could do nothing but press together.

His slacks slipped down, bunching at his feet, and then, finally, his boxers. Your pulse pounded against your ribs as he exposed himself, the tip of his cock already slick with precum, showing you just how much he wanted this – wanted you.

Once his shirt was discarded, he lowered himself back down, hands finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to remind you who you belonged to. Your back arched, your body responding before your mind could catch up, offering yourself to him in every way you knew he wanted.

You felt the hard, warm press of his cock against the back of your thigh, the slickness of it smearing against your skin, though you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you.

It didn’t matter because the next thing he was doing was dragging himself against your aching, soaked pussy. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as the thick length of him slid through your folds just enough to have you clenching around nothing.

He did it again, slow and deliberate, letting you feel him, letting the weight of his cock glide through your wetness, coating himself in it, using your own arousal to make you squirm.

"Jesus," he exhaled, his grip on your hips tightening, fingertips pressing into your skin like he was barely holding on. "So fucking wet for me, angel. You need it that bad, huh?”

The desperation in your body was humiliating, but you didn’t care. Not when he was teasing you like this, not when the heat between your legs pulsed and throbbed with every slow glide of his cock, not when he was so close to giving you what you wanted but still holding back.

“So bad, please,” you begged, pushing back against him, arching your spine, doing anything to get him where you needed. Every inch of you was trembling, every muscle coiled tight, your body nothing but pure, raw need.

He hummed, rolling his hips just enough for his tip to nudge against your entrance.

“Okay, sweet girl, okay.” His voice was gentle as he gave in. “But I need you to watch.”

His hand trailed up your spine before threading into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to tilt your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

And just as you sucked in that breath, he thrust inside you, the sudden, overwhelming stretch stealing the air from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the floor, nails scraping against the hard surface as your body jolted forward from the sheer force of it. The sensation was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your head spun, struggling to process the way he filled you, how impossibly deep he was, how your body clenched around him, trying to adjust, trying to take him.

A ragged curse tore from his lips, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers pressing so hard into your skin that you knew you’d feel it long after this moment had passed.

His pace was slow – tortuous if you had to use one word to describe it. You watched him in in the mirror, the way his head tipped back, brows furrowed in restraint, chest rising and falling as he bottomed out inside you, taking a second to breathe before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside—before slamming back in.

A wet, filthy sound filled the room, followed by a broken sob from your lips as your body struggled to keep up with the intensity of it. The way he moved, the way he owned every inch of you, the way he was ruining you.

You didn’t know what you were begging for when his name slipped past your lips, raw and desperate. You just knew you needed it. More of him. Deeper. Harder. Just more.

"You're gonna come for me," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "Gonna make a mess all over my cock while I fuck you through it, yeah?"

You nodded mindlessly, over and over again. “Y-yeah. Y-Yes.”

His hand slipped between your thighs, finding you clit once more, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, unravelling you inch by inch. Your body was already trembling, barely holding on, every muscle tensed.

And he knew it. Of course, he knew it.

He could feel it, the way you clenched around him, the way your breath caught, the way you pushed back against him like you were chasing something you were already seconds away from losing yourself to.

“Fuck, baby, your gripping me so tight.”

Your body reacted to the words, your head dropping forward, your hands curling into fists against the floor as another wave of pleasure crashed through you.

"That's it, angel," he coaxed, his fingers moving faster, his thrusts hitting deeper. "Let me have it."

You came again, your body shuddering, incoherent mumbles falling from you lips as the orgasm swallowed you whole. But it still wasn’t enough for him. If anything, feeling you fall apart only spurred him on, made him rougher, hungrier, his grip bruising as he held you there, as he used your body to chase his own release.

His movements turned sloppy, his breath uneven, each thrust deep and desperate, dragging out his pleasure just a little longer. And then – his body tensed, his hands tightening on your hips as a sharp groan ripped from his throat, your name spilling from his lips as he buried himself inside you, coming hard, filling you completely.

His hips rocked into you a few more times, slower now, savouring every last second, his breath warm against your skin, ragged and uneven as he rode out the final waves of his release.

Then, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his lips grazing your skin. “You okay?” he whispered.

You let out a breathless, satisfied hum. “More than okay.”

His hands slid to your hips and with careful movements, he rolled you onto your back, pulling out slowly before settling you against the floor. The loss of him sent a shiver through you, but you barely had time to dwell on it before his body hovered over yours.

You stretched beneath him, your fingers trailing up his arm, tracing the muscles still tensed from holding himself back. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips as you teased, "Who knew Aaron Hotchner had such a filthy mouth?"

“Consider it payback for not wearing a bra.”

You let out a laugh. “Well if that’s payback, I might just have to start wearing short skits with no underwear at the office.”

“Is that so?”

You grinned, stretching your arms above your head in an indulgent, satisfied way. “Mm-hm. I mean, if this is how you handle insubordination, I’d say I have a pretty strong case for pushing the dress code.”

His laugh was quiet, but it vibrated through you, something warm and rare and entirely for you. His weight shifted slightly as he reached for you, one hand trailing along your side, stopping just below your breast.

“Angel,” he murmured, dipping his head closer, brushing against your jaw before dragging down your neck. “You do that and it’ll be your last day in the office.”

“You’d fire me?”

He shook his head, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Never, honey. You just wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.”

dividers by cafekitsune

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner one shot #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #mine🌟

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l0vergirlv0mit · 6 months ago

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domestic caitvi ୨ৎ

caitvi x reader

cw: pet names, kissing, hickeys, biting, gets a little hot and heavy but idk what else.

a/n: I love writing domestic scenes this brought me joy:)

You met Caitlyn first when you got into the training academy to be an enforcer. She quickly took an eye to you watching you train combat when she would do walk throughs in the facilities. Meeting eyes through the window that goes into the hallway, she gives you an approving smirk. You smile back at her your face covered in sweat and chest heaving.

After that she made sure to bring Violet with her to show how good of a fighter you were. Violet was greatly amused watching you drop a man on his head. She leaned up against the glass becoming more invested in watching how your body moves with every hit you land. Caitlyn looks over at Vi and Vi looks back at her sharing the same look of understanding and excitement.

This leads to you getting called into her office for outstanding work and being taken out to lunch for it. Which leads into you meeting Vi and eventually being invited to outings having nothing to do with work. You were quick to accept their offer of going out as an item after building steady tension filled friendships with the both of them.

Caitlyn’s poise and Vi’s playful demeanor contrasted so beautifully. But you soon learned that wasn’t the truth about them, this only furthered your intrigue with the two women. They took care of you in a way you never thought possible. Making past relationships feel like a distant nightmare. There was only Caitlyn and Violet.

That’s what brought you to the present. Waking up in Vi’s boxers and Caitlyn’s silky tank top with the bed empty. You groaned at the sun hitting your eyes shoving a pillow over your face. There’s a depression on the side of the bed and the sound of a cup being place on the night stand. You feel two strong arms pull you and man handle you.

Vi’s dopey face looks down at you as you lay limply across her lap. “Good morning sunshine.” She giggles as you huff out an annoyed whimper not yet opening your eyes. “I know I know~” she pushes hair out of your face and litters kisses all over your cheeks in an attempt to pull you into consciousness. When your eyes finally do open your met with a beautiful vision of a backlit angel that is your girlfriend.

You smile sleepily and sit up to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your face into her skin. She scoops you up holding you with one arm her other holding her coffee as she walks you to the kitchen. Your legs wrap around her waist and you place a kiss to her jaw inhaling deeply to fill your lungs with her scent. Caitlyn hears heavy footsteps looking over her shoulder. She abandons her place at the stove coming to rub your back.

“Are you hungry my love?” She whispers softly fixing the strap of your tank top. Vi let’s you down to your feet softly. “Very.” You move stiffly to go sit at the kitchen table eyes squinting from the light. Vi can’t wipe the dumb smile off her face as she makes you a cup of coffee. Her and Caitlyn giggle to themselves and you perk up. “What.” You ask plainly looking up at Vi as she hands off your cup to you.

“Nothin’ your just cute.” Her tone is sweet and low it’s like honey coating your ears. She winks at you before turning away. You sip your coffee watching Vi hold Caitlyn’s waist as she cooks. She hums to herself swaying the both of them. Watching them like this fills you with warmth. The way Vi whispers sweet nothings into Caitlyn’s ear. You overhear Caitlyn tell her, “It’s only 9 am.” And you roll your eyes resting your head against your palm.

“Do you need help Cait?” Calling to her she shakes her head. “No I’m almost finished honey.” She sweetly calls back you to.

“I’m not talking about the food.” You smirk smugly your eyes shifting from Caitlyn to Violet. Caitlyn laughs and Vi looks at you as she kisses Caitlyn’s shoulder smirking back at you. “You just stay put where you are sweet stuff, you’ll get your loving in just a second.” You throw her a fake pout bating your lashes in exaggeration.

Caitlyn plates up your food bringing you an almost mathematically perfect omelette. They sit down on either side of you talking about the plans for the day. That and internal affairs you probably shouldn’t be hearing. Not that you actually pay attention to all the technical stuff. You ramble on about your coworkers in the lower ranks. Being well on your way to being an esteemed officer Caitlyn listened intently while Vi cackled at the the shit you and your coworkers do during training.

Once breakfast was finished you join Caitlyn in the bathroom to get ready for the day. Leaning closer to the mirror to do your mascara you feel her come behind you, both her hands caging you in against the counter. Her hips pressed against you and you stand up straight with your back against her chest. Turning to be face to face with her, her tall figure looms over you. Caitlyn’s slender fingers move hair from off your neck and she presses a trail of kisses from your jaw to your collar bone. “So pretty baby.”

You smooth down her silk robe and bite your lip looking up at her. “Speak for yourself.” She raises her brows at you. “Yeah?” She questions her eyes trailing down your figure.

“Yeah.” You replied nodding as you spoke. Vi was watching in the doorway not daring to make a sound. That is until Caitlyn was pushing herself between your legs and kissing you deeply. Already messing up your makeup, when Vi pipes up. “It’s only 9 am!” She said in a mocking playful tone. Caitlyn continued even after hearing her only breaking away to to give her a short reply. “Well it’s 10 now actually.” Caitlyn retorts and you giggle but quickly stifle it seeing Vis change in expression.

“Somethin funny pip squeak?” She walks over and leans against the counter its hard to focus with Cait kissing and nipping at your neck. “N-no.” VI’s eyes reading darker than usual didn’t make you feel like challenging her. She smiles at you sweetly, “Didnt think so.” joining Caitlyn in attacking your neck.

“So pretty isn’t she?” Vi mumbles to Cait. “Mmm that’s what I said.” Caitlyn and Vi talk about you like you aren’t even there going back and forth. “Her skin is so soft.” Caitlyn adds. “I could just take a bite.” Vi says softly biting your shoulder. You were almost limp from all the affection, all of your senses stimulated at once, whimpering and lulling your head back. After they’d been torturing you for a little Caitlyn smiles into your skin moving to kiss your cheek. “Need a break sweetheart?” She asks stroking your cheek. You shake your head no but she stops anyway looking at the time.

Vi doesn’t get the memo instead taking up the space Caitlyn left. Her arms wrapping around your waist and her lips finding yours. Caitlyn rolls her eyes fixing her hair in the mirror before deciding the both of you had enough and pulling Vi by the belt loop. “What! It’s 10 am.” Vi remarked hand still gripping your waist.

“Go put your shirt on and finish getting ready we need to get going.” Caitlyn sets her straight and Vi backs away with her hands up. “Aye aye Captain.” Caitlyn looks at you with a soft annoyed smile and does a double take at your neck. “Shit.” She spins you towards the mirror with a look of utter shock. You were covered in small red marks except for one especially deep purple mark Vi left on your shoulder.

Both were equally guilty but Caitlyn was unfortunately right there to take the blow. You looked back at her in the mirror unamused your arms crossed. “Your covering this up.” Caitlyn nodded her lips in the thin line.

“Of course. You do look cute though.” She teases you one last time before you huff at her. She kisses your temple and pulls out her makeup again.

Thank you for reading!

#caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #violet arcane #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitvi x reader #violet x reader

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dadsbongos · 6 months ago

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sweetnerd

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy been waiting to post this one for ya (based on this post of his)

summary - daisuke -desperate for some release after months of passionless jerking- begs to eat you out one night.

1 k words / 18+! mdni

Recently, the lock on medical had been snapped off. Thankfully, you knew the culprit to be Swansea after a belligerent search for painkillers. And unfortunately, you were responsible for watching over the numerous drugs each night.

Well, you claim it’s a misfortune but really you placed the burden upon yourself. Anya insisted that she would sit with you -- seemed borderline inconsolable at the idea of you being there alone. Then she told you where she hid the ship’s gun.

You weren’t sure why a nurse and her assistant had access to the gun when even Captain Curly didn’t, but you also weren’t getting paid enough to ask. Besides, you’ve never had a reason to use it so why concern yourself?

As if sensing all such serenity, the Tulpar bangs outside. Then Daisuke is clambering inside, hands on the doorframe and cheeks flush. His knees are pressed together, his whole body bent like some cheap hanger. Hair tousled, strands upright in odd angles -almost electric in nature. If not for the utter strangling silence behind him and his heavy breathing, you might’ve thought the rest of the ship was on fire.

“Dai… suke..?” you sit up groggily, scrubbing exhaustion from your eye, “The hell’s wrong with you? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he shoots, abandoning the argument a second later in favor of quietly humming, “I wanted to ask you…”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm, ugh… It was easier in my head… earlier…” he mumbles, hand drifting down toward his pelvis. He scrunches the crotch of his sleep pants, a lofty sigh escaping at the squeeze, “Can you- I’m just, you get it? You’ve gotta,” he clenches his eyes, seemingly shaking away the humiliation that very instant and looking at you with the biggest, wettest plead you’ve ever seen, “Can you please sit on my face while I jerk off please? Please?”

The pinched look on your face does not scream disgust, which only relieves him slightly -- he hadn’t really considered what he’d do if you reported his question to Captain Curly. Head too hot with want to forethink something as trivial as a sexual harassment lawsuit.

“Why…?” you lean back, hesitant though not appalled.

“I need to get off, like crazy,” he stumbles forward, slow enough for you to roughly shove him back if you want to, “All I got is an old mag, and it’s junk!” you can hear the delirium thrumming through him the longer you keep him waiting, “You’re so hot, I just wanna eat you out… You don’t even have to do anything, just ride my face! I’ll be good, I promise. We can stop whenever, too, I don’t need to finish,” he swallows harshly before whispering something you’re not totally sure you were meant to hear, “Just the memory could make me cum anyway.”

“Uhm…”

“I’ll give you some of my sweetener stash!”

“I don’t want that, Daisuke…”

“Then forget you heard it!” his dark eyes scramble over your body, “What else can I give you?”

Your own gaze flips over his shoulder, out the still open medical door and down the hall. Empty. Quiet. You snag him by the loose collar of his spare Pony Express shirt, sunshine fabric pillowing between your finger, wrangling him into the bay.

“Just be quiet,” you hiss, “The lock’s busted.”

Daisuke’s rosy lips drawl upward, loose and loopy and disbelieving, “You’re serious?”

“Aren’t you?”

He nods hastily, jumping back onto one of the care beds before flattening across it -- pleading silently up at you with wet puppy eyes while scrubbing sweaty palms down his thighs. Crinkling the soft material until it’s ricketing down his knees; watching hawklike as you slowly strip. Then you crawl atop of him, he clutches you by the hips and blows out a wildly uneven breath.

Barely able to find the strength to blink -lest he be cursed to cut the sight of your bare skin from his eyes- Daisuke only just scrounges the wherewithal to assist you into kneeling over his scorched face.

Exhaling between your thighs, Daisuke winds one hand around your thigh -blunt nails digging into the fat- while wrapping his cock with the other.

Craning his neck, he approaches eating you out the exact way you assumed he would: eagerly and without forethought. Absent of technique, but so full of hunger; his tongue parting and swirling wherever he pleases in that moment. As rhythmless as he is, he’s overtly sloppy -- wet clicks livening the silent room.

Billows of loose breath echoing. You sigh as he whimpers into you. Your weight jostling over his face as he bucks wildly into his tight fist -the resulting gasp only makes him thrust up harder.

“Ah, Daisuke,” pure instinct encourages you to reach down and wrangle his hair, keeping him still for you to grind down and fuck his face. Swirling your hips for that wet friction and Daisuke puts up no fight: only moaning louder into you. Vibrations making you shudder and weep again, “Ah- Daisuke!”

He croons beneath the praise, thumbing the soaking head of his cock while tongue-fucking you open. Desperately stretching his neck to nuzzle deeper into you with his own mewls leakier than a broken faucet. The messy sound of his clenched fist rapidly working his cock grows louder -- you glance over your shoulder to find him shiny with precum. Hand a mere blur over his thick erection. Ruby head peeking at you with every thrust until pearly ropes are painting his knuckles -- some more ambitious shots flying onto your back.

You’d somewhat expected him to slide back like some content, melty goop.

Daisuke surprises you when he smears cum over you whole before using it as lube to slide in, nearing knuckle deep. He moans in time with you as if he can feel it -or maybe just because feeling you clench around him is that good.

“God,” he whimpers beneath you, fingers curling inside you, “I could die down here…”

It might’ve been alarming, if he hadn’t said it so dreamily.

Maybe you’ll let him go down on you more often, if he’s always going to be so eager.

#daisuke smut #daisuke x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing x reader

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logaenhowlett · 7 months ago

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TEACH YOU HOW TO GET TO PUREST HELL - L.H.

Summary: On the way to one of his cage fights, Logan's truck begins to break down and that's how he meets you, the owner of a repair shop in Northern Alberta. He promises to pay you with his winnings - but what he ultimately offers is far more interesting.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Fluff, Flirting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex (against the cage), Aftercare, Logan's a snarky motherfucker (but secretly a softie)

A/N: The filthiest 4k I've ever written. I just know he was a menace during his cage fighter era. It's okay though, I'll still be clawing at the enclosure. Title creds to Radiohead. Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Smoke curls around him, bearing a semblance of warmth against the biting wind. Logan's grip on the steering wheel is loose, the other arm draped lazily across the window. He flicks his fingertips ever so often, the ashes of his cigar disappearing into the falling snow. Mile after mile, the same barren landscape stretches before him.

He's lost amidst the silence, having turned the radio all the way down in frustration at the nonsense plaguing the stations earlier. As sunshine glares through the windshield, he scrunches his eyebrows, vaguely entertaining some ideas swirling in his mind.

Hours pass by painfully slow. He tries to ignore the low rumbling that interrupts his flow of thoughts, body firmly protesting against this all-alcohol diet he'd unintentionally adopted. Logan skims a hand into the glove compartment, clicking his tongue when he discovers only a few wrappers lying inside. Slumping back into the seat, he takes another drag, disappointment etching onto his features.

An orange, flashing icon on the dashboard snaps his attention. His eyes dart to the blinking light, a sense of irritation washing over him when he recognises the ‘check engine’ symbol. In a haste, he pulls the truck over, slamming the door shut behind him as he ventures into the cold to inspect the issue. Though he has an extensive knowledge of motorcycles, by no means does that expertise carry over to whatever mess he finds beneath the hood. Logan returns with a sigh, recalling a faded road sign he'd passed ages ago - at least he isn't awfully far from his destination.

In the distance, the town welcome monument brings him some sort of peace. After driving by plenty of dimly lit diners and pubs, he reluctantly asks a stranger for directions to the nearest repair shop. Logan arrives shortly thereafter, parking at the entrance of this seemingly empty building. Curious, he scans the place, sliding out of his seat in search of anyone.

The distinct ring of metal hitting the floor has him spinning around. He fights back the amused huff at the sight of you, bottom lip slightly caught between his teeth in an attempt to stop the smirk threatening to break free. His eyes rake over your figure as you come closer - appreciating the way your overalls perfectly capture the slopes and curves of your body - before finally, rising to meet your unimpressed expression.

"What're you here for?"

There's a smidge of annoyance in your words, a reaction he very much enjoys being the reason for. He nods towards the truck parked out front, "Problem with the engine."

When you brush past him, Logan spots a name neatly embroidered onto your otherwise soiled clothes. Smiling, he follows after you, shamelessly dropping his gaze to your ass for a moment.

Waiting patiently while you poke around the hood, he steals glances at your profile, filled with the sudden urge to wipe away the grease stain remnants off your cheeks, "Yeah... looks like the head gasket needs replacing."

Logan groans to himself before agreeing with your judgment. He runs a hand across his face, stilling in brief confusion when you chuckle quietly.

"Somethin' funny?" He asks, noting how you browse the insides of his camper with a flair of barely-masked mockery.

"Just admiring the interior design."

That one almost draws a scoff out of him. Logan knows his living quarters are rather bare-bones in nature, at best, providing decent shelter for when he's on the go. Inside, a makeshift bed large enough for a man of his size and basic kitchen appliances - though he rarely uses those. It's all he cares for anyway, yet there's a tinge of self-consciousness he shakes before gruffly responding, "You can do it by tonight?"

"Tonight?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise, "Fine... but it's gonna set you back about three grand."

"I got half for now."

A sharp laugh pierces his ears. And even though it's undoubtedly fake, he thinks you look pretty like this - shooting what can't be anything less than a deadly glare just for him. The corners of his lips tilt up when your tone suddenly becomes stern, "That's not how it works, buddy."

"Listen, I got a fight later, I'll be good for it."

"What? You that sure you're gonna win?"

You're teasing him. You know it, and so does he. Logan studies the way your hand rests against your hip, a challenging glint behind your eyes while you consider this ridiculous suggestion. He moves one step closer and proudly welcomes the surge of satisfaction at the slight crack of your demeanour.

"Darlin', I always win." It's a whisper that leaves him, hushed and dangerously low. Giving your shoulder a playful nudge as he walks by, he circles to the trailer behind the truck, retrieving his motorcycle. He smirks, pleased to witness such a glimpse of weakness, "Eleven-thirty. O'Malley's. I'll see you there."

The engine revs with each twist of his wrist, the movement so precise and natural. As he sinks onto the bike, the suspension adjusting to his weight, he sends you a wink.

"And if you lose?" You shout over the blaring sounds.

With one final grin, "Just fix my truck, alright."

Even from outside, O'Malley's is deafeningly loud. The wooden door creaks lightly with the gentlest push, and a mixture of overly enthusiastic yells paired with the clashing of glass greet your presence. You're no regular here whatsoever, but the fights that occur in this bar are usually the talk of the town. And despite its reputation, you've never had much interest in being surrounded by a crowd of angry, intoxicated men - all drowning beneath the crude insults and empty threats tossed into the air.

Some of the patrons, customers you recognise from work, acknowledge you with a polite smile while you settle into a booth near the cage. As you observe the utter chaos around the room, it only cements your distaste for this so-called form of entertainment. The current match's loser staggers past your table, barely walking on two feet even with the support of his friends.

All you can think about is returning home with your hard-earned cash. It was a rather tiring day, running around salvage yards scouring for spare parts to tend to the old piece of junk he'd called a truck. Not to mention the unforgiving weather, which seemed determined to make your day more miserable. And to top it all off, the jerk wanted it done by nightfall - the audacity! Just the simple reminder of today's events has your body tensing from restlessness.

Behind you, a group of men sneer amongst themselves and between their slurring, the words "pretty boy" and "his ass kicked" grasp your attention. Turning around, you watch as they hand over money to some younger fella, taunting others to join the bet. Oh, that makes your blood boil. This Logan had strolled into your shop with nothing but a superficial promise for your services, and now, he's presumed to lose?

You stand up abruptly, peering across the space in search of him. A rush of fury courses through you at the same time you spot him casually lounging in the corner. As you approach, the faint glow of the bulb illuminates his face, a cloud of smoke momentarily hiding the smirk playing on his lips. His chuckle cuts through the hum of the jukebox he's leaning on, eyes crinkling with a kind of smugness at your arrival.

"You're joking." The bottle of whiskey between his fingers shocks you the most, "Are you seriously getting drunk before your fight?"

Logan grins at your concerned expression, eyes tracing you up and down, "You fix it?"

"Yes, I fucking fixed it. Took me all day!" Fists clenching, you stare at him intently, "Look, I did my job - you better do yours."

"Don't worry 'bout it, darlin'. I'm a man of my word." He dismisses you completely, taking a prolonged swig of his drink. A beat passes before he lazily holds up two fingers right to your face, "Scout's honour."

He laughs again when you roughly shove his hand aside, not sparing another second for this cocksure attitude. You grumble under your breath, making your way back to the booth, "It's three fingers, asshole."

A few matches take place over the next hour, and you're only getting more antsy as each of the competitors exits the cage with nothing short of bloody faces and broken bones. The audience roars all of a sudden, some even rattling the fence as this new person strides into the threshold.

Of course, he'd stripped his shirt off and the sight of his muscle-toned chest only serves to further fuel your irritation. Logan's eyes find yours immediately, looking past the crowd of hecklers now whistling at him. With a nod, he throws you a confident smirk and turns to his rival.

The man he's up against is much more burly and has a couple of inches on him. Though that doesn't seem to faze Logan in the slightest, instead he's flexing his arms almost playfully before adopting a fighting stance. Every punch and kick has you twitching in your seat, your feet firmly stuck to the ground in anticipation.

Remembering how he'd chugged an entire bottle of liquor earlier, you're astonished by the ferocity with which he attacks his opponent, dodging most moves with deadly precision. As he lands more jabs, the spectators begin to jeer and boo, swarming the enclosure of the cage in a tantrum. You peek over their shoulders, ducking away from the things they're flinging around. There's a collective gasp when he knocks out the other man, and you sigh in relief.

Leaning towards the cage, a cigar lightly pressed against his mouth, Logan's focus shifts to you. His chest is heaving from all the physical exertion, skin damp from the sweat. As he exhales the smoke, blowing a kiss in your direction, a satisfied expression returns to his face. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving the arena with no regard for the protesting crowd.

You follow after him, squeezing through the tightly packed space. He's settling a score with the owner, a wad of rolled cash passing between them as a reward. After a nod of mutual agreement, Logan faces you, tossing his leather jacket on. And while you're ultimately happy he won, there's also this urge to smack the cheeky look that seems to be glowing as you come closer.

What's more upsetting is the fact that he is undeniably gorgeous - especially like this, all sweaty and wound up from the adrenaline rushing inside. And of course, he doesn't miss how your gaze wanders to the sliver of skin peeking through his jacket, every slight movement only revealing more.

Logan grabs a few bills from the roll of money and stuffs them into his back pocket, holding the rest out towards you. As you reach for the cash, he swiftly draws his hand back with a teasing smile, "Have a drink with me."

"No."

"C'mon." He drags out, repeating the same thing when you try again, "No one needs their cute, little mechanic right now."

Watching you sigh triggers a thrill of excitement, an unspoken victory he claims with no shame. With a simple gesture, he leads you towards a secluded booth, determined to make this a worthwhile exchange. Despite your hesitation, he maintains a sort of relaxed energy, draping his arm along the seat - his eyes not straying from yours.

Two shots of vodka are placed on the table and Logan mirrors your action, slowly raising the glass to his lips. In no time, the air of unease dissipates, replaced by a comfortable silence while the drinks keep coming. As the night wears on, casual conversation flows between you and he asks a few things like how long you've lived here, why you became a mechanic and eventually, when he slides you the money, "What now, darlin'? You gonna leave?"

His voice, dripping with honeyed sweetness, sends a shiver down your spine. You can't exactly place the feeling, but it's a tangle of exasperation and something else - something you're not quite ready to define. Instead, you blame it on the drinks, the late hour, and the fact that there's an incredibly attractive man just inches away.

As frustration envelops your thoughts, you suddenly excuse yourself and head towards the bathroom. The alcohol, previously a gentle companion, now seems to be taking its toll. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you try to fight against the sensations running through your body. The splash of cold water does little to your state of mind, yet you're back outside in what feels like a tilted world, using all your strength to walk straight.

As you brush past the cage, someone collides into you. Desperate for balance, you reach out to grip the fence, but a strong hand lays steady on your lower back. With a gasp and a tilt of your head, you're caught off-guard when Logan comes into your view. His arm snakes around to gently hold your waist, his body now pressing into yours.

Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, you tear your attention away from him and glance at the wire pricking your fingers, "This is fucking sharp."

He doesn't break the eye contact. A low hum vibrates through his chest as he leans in, the warmth of his breath dancing with yours. The space between you slowly shrinks, whatever lighthearted facade he'd worn earlier vanishes only to be replaced by something raw and inexplicable.

"How're you not bruised?" You whisper, remembering the way he'd been thrown against the cage earlier.

"Call it a special talent."

Despite your better judgment, you find yourself captivated by him, the intensity of his gaze reeling you in. And so, you decide to play his game, "Can you teach me?"

Logan pauses, "You wanna learn... how to fight?"

"Just a little punch or something."

A faint smile spreads across his face, you're absolutely sure he can feel the way your heart is pounding. When his lips lightly brush against your ear, a quiet rumble escapes and something flickers in your gut - a twist of exhilaration laced with a hint of caution.

There's barely anyone left in the bar at this point besides the one or two stragglers hanging around. Logan and you stand alone in the cage, seemingly tucked away in a little pocket of your own. He doesn't wander too far, remaining within an arm's distance while demonstrating the proper technique for a jab - the motion so fluid and effortless.

Your initial attempts to mimic his movements are clumsy and awkward, his amusement only growing more evident with each try. Slipping behind you, he sheds the jacket, once again exposing his glorious muscles and the thought of tracing his vein-riddled biceps with your tongue leaves you dazed for a moment. This time, he circles his arms around you and guides your hands into the correct position.

As you practice, your bodies nudge against each other, his breath fans across your neck and ignites a fire within you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with implicit desire. You can almost feel his gaze burning into you, every second posing a challenge to cross this imaginary line.

The rest of the patrons are ushered out the door, the owner nodding at Logan before disappearing into the back room. And the silence settles in, a stark contrast to all the commotion that lingered for hours prior. You notice the difference, inching towards the exit, "Looks like they're closing up."

Before you can move away, Logan's hand shoots out to catch your wrist, "And we got it all to ourselves."

"What?"

"Might've slipped the owner a little somethin’."

His fingers trail up your arm, thumb gently pushing your soft skin. Slowly, he brings you closer, his words just a whisper of heat on your cheek. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, a rhythm echoing your own racing heart. Your voice, hoarse and strained, barely manages a response, "Is this how you budget? No wonder you're broke."

It's his laughter that breaks you at first, followed by, "You got a smart mouth, darlin'. Tell me, what else can it do?"

His lips hover mere inches above yours, there's a moment of hesitation hanging in the air - an out, if you don't want this. But, temptation is a dangerous siren and you're already ensnared by her song.

Fuck it.

Logan's dog tags hang pretty between the slopes of your breasts, his mouth moving against yours in a rough, demanding fashion. It's sloppy. It's wet. And it's goddamn heavenly when his fingers thread through your hair, the gap between you now completely erased. You cling to him as if he's an anchor, nails digging into his shoulders while he pins you to the cool metal of the cage.

He wants to touch you. To feel the warmth radiating straight off your body. The straps of your overalls fall from his force, he takes the opportunity to slide one hand through the side, kneading your waist with a kind of tenderness that surprises him too. When you take a second to breathe, Logan peppers kisses along your jawline, then some beneath your ear before grazing his lips on your neck.

The pulsing vein he finds nearly has him growling in pleasure, "Fuck, darlin'... feel so good already... can't wait to taste you when I'm done..."

He stills when you gasp, glancing up through his lashes and then quietly chuckling at your flustered expression. Yet, he can't revel in his victory for any longer than a blink, your palm tilts his head back before you fiercely capture his mouth once more.

His name rolls out your lips, drawn out and glazed with an obvious need. Taking a deep inhale, Logan feels the bulge in his jeans growing with each passing moment. You're only getting restless as his hands roam over your body, becoming nothing more than a whimpering mess all from his doing.

"Lemme hear you for real, baby... don't be shy." His fingers latch onto the cage, using it to thrust forward and deepen the kiss. Your clothes end up pooling at your feet, the barriers between you peeling away with every layer gone. Now, skin to skin, sweat glistening on your brow, you're left bare and vulnerable to his touch.

Logan reaches down, spreading your thighs wide enough till he can push your panties aside, stroking the outside of your entrance. Clenching his jaw when he's met with a distinct wetness, "Hidin' all this for me?" He almost laughs at how you curl forward and then whine his name, craving for any part of him to be inside you, "Hm... what'd you say to me before? Three fingers?

With no warning, he slides exactly three inside your cunt, pumping in and out as best as he can, "So fuckin' tight, darlin'... c'mon... show me you're ready for the real thing." He knows he's doing something right when you squirm at his actions, jumping at the invitation to delicately flick your clit before sinking his fingers back into you.

"Logan-"

Pain consumes you as he continues, tears springing to your eyes. You've never felt pleasure like this, so intense and so profound, words lost amongst the moans trembling out your lips. Your knees begin to shake under the pressure, and his free hand immediately cups your thigh, securing your body to his. As you call out for him, urging him to fuck you senseless, he tugs his fingers away.

The belt flies, jeans tossed behind in an instant and he grunts, freeing his hard length from his boxers. The tip of his cock teases your folds, the precum slicking down from the head. His nose presses against your cheek when your hand runs up and down - getting him all nice and ready. Breath hitching at the sensation, Logan involuntarily bucks his hips, your eagerness carrying him over the edge.

He's careless about lining himself up, giving it no more than a fleeting thought before thrusting into you. Whatever floods your brain at that moment is much more potent than anything you've ever experienced. It's vigorous, almost animalistic in nature, how hard he fucks you. The veins on his arms become more apparent as he hoists you up, pushing you against the cage. He can hear the little fibers of your skin tearing because of the friction, yet he does little to ease that pain, knowing you're enjoying the hurricane of emotions whisking you away.

Logan pants into your tits, nipping at the soft flesh, "Wanted to ruin that pussy since I saw you this mornin'... all dirty and pissed off at me - god. Thought 'bout somethin' else on your face too."

"Logan - don't... fucking stop. Feels amazing... wanna feel all of you." The words escape you - laboured and breathless - your eyes soften in delight, watching this sort of enraptured expression wash across his face, "So good for me, Logan."

So good.

For me.

And boy, if that doesn't spur him on.

Picking up speed, his movements turn greedy, grinding into you with a degree of passion he's never felt before. As you tug his hair, fingers raking through the dark tresses in a frenzy, Logan taps into the primal energy swelling within. His hands squeeze you further, your thighs constricting his waist as he drives up into you, "That's it baby... fuckin' perfect. Takin' all of me like a good girl... mhmm."

The way your body helplessly arches has him grinning, but that quickly gets swept away when his cock twitches inside you, aching to burst at any given moment. He tries his hardest to control himself, longing for your cries of pleasure as you finish. Thrusts weakening to a leisurely pace, Logan grunts into your neck, mumbling a string of curses while he rides out this wave. Thankfully, you're on the precipice as well, your body reaching its peak with a shiver.

His cum trickles out of you, thighs getting sticky as it seeps lower and lower. Lost in a daze, Logan thinks he can see the damn sun in your eyes. With a gentle swipe of your cunt, he sheepishly licks his own fingertips, a smile brightening his face.

The mattress, once a source of great discomfort, now feels like paradise as you cuddle into the crook of his neck, the soft rhythm of your breath soothing him to a state of peace. He'd carried you to his truck earlier, threatening you with a barrage of kisses when you dangled his keys in front of him. There was a rather short game of tag before you relented and collapsed into his embrace, tiredly blinking up at him. He'd tucked the loose strands of your hair back then tenderly caressed your cheek. It took all but one affectionate grin to convince you to spend the night in his camper.

Not a single inch of your body is free from his touch. He pulls you even closer, tracing patterns around the tiny scratches spreading across your shoulders. If you'd asked him yesterday, he would tell you he has no plans of sticking around this town, grown used to a life of impermanence. Yet, as he rests, tangled in your arms, Logan finds a reason to stay.

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