#ignore my editing error...

[neishroom]

mini room tour + anon texter? ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[lodeddiprr]

I hate this

[unreal-unearthed]

bangel x like real people do

for the @iwillrememberyoumarathon 2024 <3

[slashmagpie]

Decided to get myself a Christmas present and ordered personal printed copies of Lifeline AU. This fic is my favourite thing I’ve ever written and I am so incredibly proud of it and I felt that if anything deserved a place on my bookshelf, it was this.

The covers were commissioned from @eyewyrm, who did a fantastic job, they’re absolutely gorgeous <3

[lazarus-harp]

missing the time i rp'd the detective for two months straight ... all that writing and it might never see the light of day, tragic & sad! :

[prismit]

cool, so i'm literally never gonna get this lucky ever again in my life!

[kiwichaeng]

One of these days I'm going to end up partaking in one of the lone star WIP days and then disappear off the face of the earth

[dove-da-birb]

If you see spelling errors, no you don't <3

[wannursyafiqah74]

super lesbian horse rpg fanart? in 2025? more likely than you think

(lesbian flag by emily gwen, fangame originally created by ponett!)

[virtuousvigil]

just hit 1k hits on amsatasm (+40 kudos) i?

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue (for the spin-off: click here!)

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Lovefool | James 'Bucky' Barnes

A/N: Guys ive been writing ts for like four days and lemme tell you im so glad it's over. Ugh everyone say thank you to @anxietyandtacos for making me into a bucky girl, and thank you to @love-chx for feeding into my bucky dellusions and beta-ing this monster of a fic <3. I was gonna split it in 2 but I'm too lazy to edit that out so I prese,t idiots in love! Minor TB/CABNW SPOILERS

Summary: James Barnes is a terrible congressman, hence Sam sending you to be his assistant. You keep him on a tight leash, and you both do a horrible job at hiding your feelings for one another. Add jealousy and alcohol to the mix? what could possibly change?

Warnings: 2nd person POV, use of Y/N, being a D1 John Walker hater, mentions of bipolar parents/family trauma (minor), forced super soldier serum injections (mention, not depicted!), reader is also a super soldier lowkey but she's just a girl ok!, cursing, spelling and grammar errors probably idk fr, jealous!bucky and jealous!reader, SMUT: hair pulling, choking w that vibranium arm, spitting, hickies, kissing, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected P in V, creampie, swallowing, reader gets a facial (im going to hell guys), minor handjob, whimpering (MEN WHIMPERING UGH!!)

Word Count: 18k. PART 2

Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Secretary!Fem Reader (reader has vague descriptions regarding having STRAIGHTENED hair/curled hair, reader is shorter than Bucky)

UGHHHHHHHHH LET ME AT HIM! FUCK! anyways MINORS DNI!

James Buchanan Barnes is a terrible congressman.

How he managed to get elected to represent Brooklyn? You had absolutely no idea. Sure his campaign made sense, it aligned with his long-term goals of making amends for the tragedies he’d committed as the Winter Soldier, but outside of his initial campaigning,he hadn’t done much. 

He hadn’t had any major bills passed and he had a terrible media presence. Anytime anyone wanted to interview him or ask any major questions following a congressional session, he would mutter the same ‘yeah uh huh, it’s super important, oh I think we should care about this- blah blah blah’. 

It made zero sense.

That’s the entire reason you were hired. Then again, it was also because you owed Sam Wilson a major favor after he opted not to arrest you following the whole ‘Flag Smashers terrorism’ ordeal. It’s not like you were voluntarily involved with the group, but you were a major part of the brains behind the tech-based operations.Plus, you knew how to talk to people. Most importantly, you knew your ins and outs of politics and had a vast network of connections.

“Bucky, can you just listen to me for once! You’re gonna fuck up your entire career if you keep bullshitting responses to the press!” 

You let out a frustrated sigh, two fingers pinching your nose bridge as you shut your eyes. You’re doing your best to remain calm and avoid screaming at him for the fourth time this week—it’s only Tuesday. 

Working with Barnes was like your own personal hell. 

It made sense that he was over a hundred years old. He's stubborn and rude and since the beginning, it was apparent that he didn’t trust you. He even vouched for you to be arrested a few years ago following the takedown of the Flag Smashers, but that was mostly because you had kicked his ass and clearly bruised his ego.

Things were better now…well, if you didn’t count the constant arguments. He was just too nonchalant at times.

Bucky nodded his head, clearly ignoring you as he focused on buttoning up his white shirt. 

The both of you were in his Washington D.C. penthouse. It was a nice place all things considered, a luxury awarded to him by the government, and, of course, being a national ‘hero’ recognized by Captain America himself did come with perks. 

You lean against the island counter, arms crossed in front of your chest while you glare at him. Meanwhile, he was focused on his own reflection in the large circular wall-mounted mirror across the room. 

You were due for a briefing surrounding the Foreign Affairs congressional committee soon, but based on the way he couldn’t answer any of your questions, you knew he’d either be making a fool of himself or you’d have to swoop in and save the day again.

“Would you relax for five minutes? All you do is yell at me, I get you’re supposed to be my know-it-all secretary but Christ, you need to calm down.” 

Your right eye twitches at his response, then you grab the nearest item to you, a glass vase, and launch it in his direction.

Bucky caught it with ease, shaking his head at you as he eyes you from the reflection of the mirror.

Admittedly, Bucky had no issue with his wandering eyes when it came to you. His gaze trailed from your irritated expression, a smirk on his face at the sight of your ever-present pout, then he eyed the few thin gold chains you always wore tucked into your shirt. Today, you hadn’t buttoned your shirt all the way up just yet, leaving quite the eye-full of cleavage out. 

It didn’t help that you were practically pressing your tits together with your arms crossed below them. Bucky took in the rest of your outfit, one of your black pencil skirts that was deemed as work appropriate and modest--even though it hugged all of your curves perfectly and made your ass practically irresistible. Finally, he landed on your shoes, the pointed toe stiletto heels that he knew made your feet hurt, yet you always had a pair on.

They did wonders for your legs.

You ran a hand through your perfectly straightened hair. Usually every strand was laid perfectly and you’d spend too much time making sure it wasn’t frizzy in the slightest-which was like hell during D.C. summers. Now it was messy, but it was messy in a way that made Bucky’s brows raise slightly.

“Don’t tell me to fucking relax Barnes. Your political career is a direct reflection of my political career. I hate to break it to you, but us being two ex-enemies of the state already have us on thin ice constantly! Presidential pardons don’t mean shit in the eyes of the public—a public which you’re supposed to serve!”

You were raising your voice again, he shook his head at that, now finally turning around to face you while he grabbed his tie.

“Just come help me with this tie so we can go. I read the files. I get it, if I fuck up it’s a problem, blase blase blase. I’ve got speech writers, advisors, and most importantly—you.” 

You sighed again, hands now on your hips as you stared at him while clenching your jaw and shaking your head. You hated when he said things like that to you, things that were a little too sweet for a supposed strictly professional relationship.

Sure, you’d known him before he was a Congressman, but you weren’t close in the slightest. 

Then during the aftermath of the Flag Smashers, Sam had you in constant therapy sessions, and after pulling several strings, he had you working side-by-side with him. That’s what really launched your political career.

People liked to argue that Captain America wasn’t political, but he absolutely was. The mantle itself was propaganda, and honestly, you were glad it was Sam holding the shield, he was the best fit for the job regardless of what idiots thought. 

Sam brought you into the world of politics, and it was easy for you to build a network, plus you were able to spin your own narratives regarding your past, playing into people’s emotions, and sure, it was a little manipulative, but you were smart. 

Y’know what they say—work smarter, not harder.

You had started working with Bucky because Sam had cashed in on the ultimate favor after watching Bucky during his campaign trail. His speeches were all amazing, but then when anyone would ask him a candid question, he would struggle, or he’d be dismissive and it was evident he didn’t want to answer questions or be there.

That’s when you showed up, and following his election, you were at the forefront of his public appearances. Answering questions on his behalf, assisting in briefings, and even being with him during any congressional sessions, especially committee sessions. Most representatives didn’t have their assistants with them at all times, but things were different now, and as the world continued to adapt and change, so did the sphere of politics.

You rolled your eyes as you approached him, stopping less than a foot away, ignoring the ever-apparent butterflies you’d feel in your stomach anytime you had to stand in close quarters with him. It wasn’t that being next to him flustered you, it was being face-to-face with him. There was a height difference, but the heels helped with that.  

However, the heels did not help with his wide stature. Bucky Barnes is a wall of muscle, and some days it felt like his biceps alone were the size of your head.

You knew he knew how to tie his own tie. But you also knew he liked when you did it.

He looked down at you, a smirk on his face while he watched your hands work against his royal-blue tie. Your jaw was still clenched, and you were very clearly annoyed with him.

Bucky knew you had a soft spot for him. Just like he had a soft spot for you.

You know this because he’d already fired two assistants prior to Sam ushering you into the role.

You were the only person he’d ever let scream at him over anything. Admittedly, he kind of liked it when you yelled at him too, but he wouldn’t tell you that. It was attractive because, well, you were attractive. But you were also his assistant that was around eighty years younger than him.

“Can you at least pretend you want to be there today?” You glanced up at him as you finished adjusting his tie. Your faces were inches apart as you searched his icy blue eyes for an answer.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try for you.”

You nodded at that, moving away from him and walking towards the sofa to  grab his suit jacket and your purse. Then you glanced down at your watch, muttering a few curses at the time. 

He watched you walk towards the door, snapping your fingers a few times at him. He smiled and shook his head, grabbing his briefcase and keys as he followed you. Before the both of you could leave, you handed him his jacket, raising both brows.

“Put it on, Barnes.” 

He nodded at that, shrugging it on then buttoning it. You were quick to run your hands along the front of his chest, straightening out any potential wrinkles—the motion felt natural to you. The first time you’d done it, it left you flustered and blushing, but now it didn’t bother you. The quicker it was done, the quicker you’d actually be able to make it out of the building and to the car that had been waiting on you both for ten minutes.

Bucky didn’t like being driven around, it was something he was still getting used to. It wasn’t like he couldn’t drive himself. Then again, the drivers usually had bulletproof trucks to avoid any potential Kennedys happening.

Yeah, his career as the Winter Soldier was extensive and most likely resulted in several of the current governmental security measures. 

Besides, at least he knew you would be safe by his side in the blacked out suburban.

On the drive to the capitol building you were talking non-stop, running him through every agenda that had been previously reviewed and would most likely be circled back to today. You also went on and on about him needing to actually answer questions with real information, not his typical half-assed responses brushing everything off.

When the SUV was finally parked and stopped, you grabbed his forearm before getting out of the car. 

“Don’t piss me off today, Barnes.” 

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he nodded his head. “No promises, Sweetheart”.

When he said no promises he meant it.

The both of you hadn’t been in the hearing for longer than twenty minutes before he’d managed to irritate you. It didn’t help that this hearing was scheduled to last three hours. 

You prayed that the three hours would go by fast, especially with Bucky already brushing off another congressman. The entire reason he was on this specific committee was because of his experience overseas working with the former Avengers, and several foreign threats, plus his ‘stellar’ work with groups such as the Flag Smashers.

All he was asked to do was give his input on the current situation regarding Celestial Island. That was it. 

It was a simple question, with an even simpler response, and he’d manage to start his bullshit fiasco again.

You were quick to cut him off, a bright smile on your face as you leaned into his space, pulling the small microphone in your own direction.

“What Congressman Barnes means is that we’re very concerned with the potential threat of any foreign militant uprisings pertaining to the discovery and appearance of Celestial island. Alongside that, it’s evident that with the newfound and limited natural resources on the island, there are several concerns regarding the legal boundaries of mining on foreign territory.”

You sat back in your seat, glancing around the room while several officials nodded and took notes. Bucky was staring right at you, his eyes slightly squinted while he tried not to make a scene. He then subtly pinched your thigh, which led to you swatting his hand away. 

When he leaned into your space, you were practically enveloped in the smell of his cologne. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t relax you slightly. 

Bucky whispered into your ear, “Can you not shove me out of the way to correct me every five minutes.” 

Your jaw clenched at his words. His breath against your ear sent a shiver along your spine, and quite frankly you wanted to slap him. Not because he was wrong to address you in a private manner, but because he was making a fool out of himself and pissing you off.

As he pulled back you offered a smile that was very clearly fake. Well, at least to him it was fake.

“Of course, Congressman.” 

The rest of the hearing was spent the same way, you taking notes while he took half-assed notes. Telling him what to say and what not to say, and correcting him a few more times when he couldn’t provide enough detail on the matter.

Once the meeting was adjourned and the both of you were out of the room, the press were everywhere, surrounding each member, asking a million questions, and when they crowded around you and Bucky, you let out a deep sigh, glancing up at him as he smiled and nodded at the reported forcing microphones into his face.

“Congressman Barnes, what is your opinion on the ongoing Celestial Island expeditions and the potential interstellar crisis right now?” He glanced over at you for a brief few seconds. Then he looked around before clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath. He then leaned closer to one of the mics.

“No comment.” 

With that, he was quick to guide you through the crowd and out of the building.

The two of you stood at the top steps of the capitol building, your gaze focused on a series of notes that you’d taken, eyes trailing each sentence, trying to compartmentalize all of the major points of the meeting. Meanwhile, he was shooting the driver a text, letting him know that things had wrapped up.

“You said you wouldn’t piss me off today, Barnes.” 

He shrugged, now looking at you, eyes taking in the way that the sun practically radiated off of your skin. God, you were so beautiful—if only you didn’t talk so damn much. “I said no promises.” 

You shook your head, now squinting as you looked around, the sun brighter than ever. Without even thinking about it, you were using your free hand to fish in Bucky’s jacket pocket, pulling out his black aviator sunglasses before slipping them on and going back to your reading.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little too comfortable?” 

You blinked a few times, shrugging the same way he always shrugged when people asked him questions. “You’ll be fine Barnes. Also, don’t forget we have a fundraiser to attend tomorrow, black tie event, I think Sam’s an honored speaker there. And if you’re bringing your team of miscreants, make sure to keep them on a tight leash.” With that, you started descending down the white stone steps, leaving him confused.

He watched as you walked off. At first he thought maybe you were messing with him, however, after you’d made it to the bottom and continued walking down the cement path, he knew you were on the way somewhere. It was a nice day outside, so maybe it made sense that you’d go for a walk on Capitol Hill? But that usually entailed you needing to get something, or speak with someone.

“Where the hell are you going?!” he called after you, leading you to pause and spin around, pushing his sunglasses to the top of your head, moving your hair out of the way.

“To get lunch, what am I supposed to photosynthesize?” 

He shook his head, following after you and ignoring the looks he was getting from tourists, locals, and other political figures.

It didn’t take long for him to catch up to you, his long strides quicker than yours as he descended the stairs. That and he wasn’t wearing a pair of four inch stilettos on. Some days when you moved too slowly he’d debate throwing you over his shoulder to get somewhere quicker.

But that was both unprofessional and embarrassing for the both of you. He knew for a fact that you’d make a scene, most likely shouting at him, switching between his military rank to his political title while hitting him.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair before glancing at you as the both of you walked in sync. He took a second to look around, observing the area to ensure there were no major threats. An old habit that always seemed to surface anytime he was with you in public. 

“So, where exactly are we going?” 

You shrugged, now holding a manilla folder above your face to further block the sun, squinting behind the black aviators before crossing the busy street. It wasn’t uncommon for secretaries to walk around the Hill, especially during lunch or recess. You knew your way around the city relatively well.

However, it was clear Bucky did not, considering you were guiding him in the direction of the Vietnamese restaurant that the two of you frequented during the first few months of working together. There wasn’t any point in trying something new, not when you had several pages of notes to sort through and reiterate to Bucky.

“To 54, y’know the cute little mom and pops place we used to go to all the time? Best summer rolls in D.C.” 

He nodded as you spoke.Truthfully, he had no idea what you were talking about. Sure, he knew that when you first started working for him you had dragged him to lunch, claiming that taking a break from the ‘seriousness’ of the job was important, but outside of that, he couldn’t remember half of the places you dragged him to.Usually the food was good, though.

After about ten more minutes of walking alongside Bucky, who was constantly grabbing you and pulling you away from incoming traffic when you’d been too focused on the hearing notes to actually look before crossing the street, you’d finally made it to the restaurant.

The second you opened the door, you spotted Ms. Minh, the older woman that owned the restaurant. Within a few seconds she’d noticed you and Bucky, a wide smile on her face as she approached the both of you with menus.

“My favorite customers! Tell me Bucky, are you two engaged yet?” 

You blinked a few times, eyes wide at the insinuation that you and Bucky were together. When you glanced over at him, his brows were knit together as his eyes met yours. 

Neither of you would acknowledge the rosy flush on his face.

“Now, Ms. Minh, you know we’re not together romantically. He’s my boss, and between me and you, the biggest grouch I know. Plus, he never listens to me! I can’t be with a man who doesn’t listen.” You spoke as you followed her to a table that was a bit more secluded in the back corner of the dining area. 

She shook her head, scoffing a bit before elbowing you, leaning closer to you.“Men never listen, but he’s a good one, can’t let him slip away.” 

You gasped at that, laughing and smiling at her as you sat down. He slid into the seat directly across from you and smiled at Ms. Minh when she handed him his menu, lightly slapping his shoulder and winking before walking off.

“I remember this place now.” 

You nodded your head, smiling as you read through the menu. You knew exactly what you were getting, but you also didn’t want to look into those baby blues right now. Not while you tried your best to ignore the butterflies—scratch that, it was like an entire team of olympic gymnasts were doing somersaults in your stomach.

You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t ever thought of Bucky romantically. Outside of being an absolute moron in the realm of politics, he’s a genuinely good guy. He’s done the work to make amends, he understands empathy, he’s kind and giving, and in the words of the other assistants you had the displeasure of working with, he really was a tall glass of water.

“Are you gonna take the sunglasses off, Sweetheart?” 

You blinked a few times, finally registering that everything still had a dark blue-ish hue. You were too lost in thought to actually take off the aviators. He already had his hand out, waiting for you to place them in his palm.

Once you returned the glasses, one of the servers came around to take your order, and without any hesitation you were ordering for yourself and for him. When he opened his mouth to say something you quickly shushed him before finishing the order. “I know what you like, Barnes.” 

He nodded slowly, looking from you to the glass of ice water on the table. Sure, you did know what he liked to a certain extent. 

He also liked you, a lot more than he should’ve. But he was positive you didn’t know that, even if you were the biggest know-it-all on the goddamn planet.

You finally looked up at him, now stirring the thin plastic straw in your glass of water, taking a second to push the lemon wedge to the bottom of the glass, lightly squishing it with the straw.

“So, after the term is over, what’s next for you Congressman Barnes?” 

He shrugged, one hand reaching for his phone, the other on the tabletop, fingers tapping against the worn wood. The white, green, and red hues from one of the bright neon signs on the wall reflecting against his skin ever so slightly as he looked at you.

James Barnes needed to be painted. He was too handsome to not be preserved forever in art. Then again, anytime you’d ever mentioned anything about him being preserved, he’d make a joke about being in cryostasis that would leave your jaw dropped.

“I dunno, probably go back to being a hero or something, who knows. Got the whole ‘New Avengers’ thing to address. Maybe, keep working on the whole making amends thing. Not sure if politics are for me.” 

You tried to hold in your laugh but it easily slipped past the cracks in your stoic expression. “I’m gonna say this as your friend, not your assistant so don’t fire me. But you’re really shitty at your job.” 

He laughed at that, shaking his head lightly, his hair had a slight bounce that made you want to run your fingers through the chocolate locks.

“You’re probably right Sweetheart, but the Winter Soldier turned politician looks good on paper. Sam’s always talking about history remembering names, guess it was the best way to redeem myself. Y’know serving the people.” 

As the both of you spoke, your food was brought out. The two bowls of pho were placed on the table, alongside your side of summer rolls. You absentmindedly grabbed the few bottles of sauce on the table. Immediately adding some hoisin sauce and a dash of sriracha to his, the way he always liked it.

Then you moved onto your own, throwing bean sprouts, mint, and jalapenos into the bowl.

“Y’know I can do things on my own.” 

You shrugged, now raising a single brow. “Then I wouldn’t have a job.” 

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was evident, a large toothy grin that was typically reserved for the people closest to him. Bucky let out a boisterous laugh as he picked up his chopsticks, mixing his pho. “Fine, you got me there I guess.” 

You nodded at that, then added, “Besides, I like doing stuff for you. Actually, I think I just enjoy doing things for people in general, I guess it’s my love language or whatever Joaquin says.” 

The mention of the new Falcon bothered Bucky, not because he didn’t like the kid, but because it had an angry green emotion swirling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t envy, no it was blatant jealousy.

“Ah, how is Joaquin anyways?”

You raised a brow at him, swallowing the food in your mouth before answering. “Well, after crash landing into the Indian Ocean, his recovery is actually going really well. Been in physical therapy and rehab for a while, still doesn’t shut the hell up, and is constantly yapping Sam’s ear off—and mine—when he calls. I think he’s back in the air now too, last I heard from Sam at least.” 

He nodded as he ate. Then, he couldn’t help himself  “So…are you two still close?” 

Your brows knit together as your head craned back a bit. 

“It’s pretty unprofessional to ask about your assistant's love life, hmm?” you were teasing him, pointing the chopsticks in hand at him, both brows raised now. Then your smile cracked. “Good  thing we’re friends-ish. But no, me and Joaquin are a negative, sure we’re around the same age, but I dunno, he’s a great friend, but not my type y’know. I usually go for the whole tall, brooding, kinda mean, type.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip slightly as you spoke. Externally, he was focused on you and his meal. Internally he was jumping for joy at the fact that you weren’t remotely interested in Joaquin Torres. Plus, hearing your usual type, he was right up your alley. But once again, it was incredibly unprofessional to fraternize with your secretary.

“So, what about you, Barnes? Seeing any ladies when I’m not around?” You wiggled your brows at him. He shook his head, laughing while you practically stuffed your face with a summer roll. He was glad you were comfortable around him, but that comfort also fed into his delusions he liked to keep to himself.

Plus, you were annoying. But he kind of liked annoying these days.

“Yeah, no. All I do is work, don’t have much time for a social life, sure as hell don’t have time for a romantic one at this point. Besides, I’m a bit old to be going back into the dating scene.” 

You scoffed at that. “Not true at all! Sure on paper you’re like a century old, but I mean c’mon you’re like what thirty-six? Thirty-seven? And I mean this in the most professional sense, you’re not exactly ugly or unattractive. Sure you’re mean, a politician, and have a history of being a war criminal! But we all have flaws!” 

He blinked several times, head tilting slightly while shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge while taking a deep sigh. “You’re a terrible relationship coach.”

You shrugged at that, biting into the second summer roll before pausing, food clearly stuffed into your right cheek like a hamster. “That’s why I’m in politics, duh.”

Then your phone was ringing, and Party in the U.S.A. was on full blast, earning several looks from people around you both. You sighed, putting your spoon down before grabbing the phone off of the table and answering while looking directly at Bucky who had a single brow raised.

“Sam, please tell me this isn’t a work related call.” You sighed, as you listened to Sam speak, running a hand through your now frizzy hair. Then, you placed the phone between your cheek and shoulder, digging through your bag in the empty chair beside you until you were able to pull out your planner. The same planner which several people made fun of you for using, stating that you needed to just use google calendar or some other app.

The apps never worked for you, so you stuck to pen and paper.

Then you were flipping it open to this week, eyes scanning the different hearings, meetings, press releases, and scattered notes. Brows knit together as you dug out a pen.

“So, it’s mandatory? Like this isn’t one of those ‘oh we wish we could’ve made an appearance, so sorry for missing the fundraiser’?” You let out another sigh at Sam’s response, now looking up at Bucky who was focused on drinking his water and attempting to read all of your scribbled notes upside down.

“This is way beyond short notice Sam, y’know one day can you just call to invite us to one of Sarah’s cookouts again? Or maybe a fishing trip? Hell, even saving the world would be better.” 

Bucky groaned as he finally registered that you were making note of a charity fundraiser event happening in two days.

“Okay Sam, yes I’m fine! Yes I’m safe! Wha-what?! Don’t ask me that oh my god! Goodbye Sam!” You quickly hung up, a bit flustered over Sam’s last question, and as much as Bucky wanted to ask what it was, you were already focused on the schedule. Sometimes you were like a robot, immediately switching into work mode, hyper fixated on a task until it was fully complete.

This was one of those instances, or at least, from his end, that’s how it seemed.

Meanwhile, you were just avoiding his gaze after Sam had asked if you and Bucky and finally ‘dealt with that sexual tension’. It wasn’t like you had sexual tension! He was just your very attractive boss that fit right into your typical archetype of men that you’d go after, plus he was older, which was an added bonus. 

But he was also stubborn as ever, mean, unprepared, unprofessional at times, and obnoxious when he wanted to be. 

Everyone has flaws, you just had to fixate on his to remind yourself that Bucky’s your boss not your potential husb—boyfriend. The first option would be too far fetched, even if Ms. Minh was your biggest supporter in the matter.

“Okay Barnes, turns out we have a mandatory charity fundraiser to attend this weekend, and since today’s Thursday, I’ve gotta book us some flights for tomorrow to be back in New York. Turns out it’s in Manhattan, and apparently it’s at the old Avengers tower, also known as your future home.” 

He sighed, shaking his head at the reminder of Valentina’s ‘New Avengers’ scheme. He would be finishing his term before being fully acclimated into the misfit group of ex-criminals. But when the two of you were in New York, or he was needed, he would show up with you in tow. By technicality, you were also a part of the rag tag group of anti-heroes.

“You mean our future home?” 

Something about the way he emphasized the word ‘our’ sent heat along your neck and cheeks. 

“Please, I’m not a damn Avenger. I’ll probably stay in the political sphere, even after your stint as a Rep is over.” 

He shook his head at that, a ‘tsk tsk tsk’ leaving his lips. “That’s what you think, you were there at the press conference a few months ago. Plus, we’re still going back and forth with Sam about the whole Avengers fiasco. Pretty sure he’s just gonna form one gigantic group eventually, sift out the nutcases and move from there.” 

You reached across the table, lightly smacking his arm. “Don’t talk about Bob like that!” 

He sighed, shrugging again. “You’re always quick to defend him y’know that? You don’t defend Walker—” 

You cut him off. “Yeah cause he’s an asshole! But Bob is really sweet! He’s just, like, super bipolar. Besides, he reminds me of my mom, y’know, before she went totally psycho after the blip.” 

You cleared your throat at the mention of your mother, it was a sore subject, one that was typically only brought up in therapy.

“But you need to stop calling him a nutcase! And that also applies to Alexei! He’s also super nice! A bit much at times? Yes, but he cares! Don’t be so mean to your team.” 

He raised a singular finger, pausing your rant. “Actually, you’re the only one on my team, literally and legally. But fine, you’re right I guess, I’ll be nicer to them. Even if they’re all in need of some serious court mandated therapy.” 

You smiled at that, now closing your planner and shoving it back into your purse.

“Good. Besides, not everyone gets to be like Sam and recruit a bunch of happy-go-lucky people who have aspired to be heroes their entire life. I mean Joaquin and Kate are always so happy, they’re like golden retrievers. Peter’s also pretty positive, granted he’s still grieving, but I’m glad he’s managed to see the good in people again. But Stephen Strange can count his days, next time I see him, I’m kicking his ass on principle—off the record.”

Bucky let you rant, it wasn’t necessarily an ‘in one ear, out the other’ situation, but you looked so pretty as you spoke, the sunlight beaming from outside highlighted the soft angles of your face, then the LED signs on the wall had small hues of color dancing along your features, and your smile was always so vibrant and full of life.

He was whipped.

Sam was completely right.

“I’m charging this to your card by the way, and I’m tipping the same as the bill. You can afford it.” With that you winked, now walking towards Ms. Minh who sat behind a small counter that blocked the entrance to the kitchen. 

The next day was a whirlwind for Bucky, he knew he had to travel today. He was used to the constant back and forth. It was his last year as a Representative, and because he represented Brooklyn, the both of you were always going back and forth between New York and D.C.

However, you were the one who always organized the travel plans, and usually you both avoided early morning flights because you didn’t live together, meaning you were likely to make it, and he wasn’t. At this rate he should’ve been used to the travel, but he wasn’t and you constantly reminded him that he was on thin ice.

Today he’d finally fallen into the frozen lake.

Yesterday at about seven thirty you’d sent him the flight details. You were set to take off at eight in the morning, meaning you had to be up around five and at the airport by six forty-five. That would’ve given the both of you enough time to actually make your flight, then head over to the tower early to help with preparations for the fundraiser, and to go over a few important details with Yelena about the impending galactic crisis, the same crisis that you’d gotten a plethora of information on from sitting through the Foreign Affairs committee meetings over the past two months.

Bucky woke up at eight forty-five with twenty-three missed calls, fifteen very angry text messages, and three even angrier emails. He tried to call you back, and you purposefully ignored the first two calls, finally answering on the third, thankful that you’d purchased the in-plane wifi as it gave you the opportunity to yell at him.

Then, you were texting him flight information for eleven in the morning, which led to him rushing to pack a bag, almost missing the pile of documents that you’d left on his kitchen island for him with a neon-pink sticky note on top that said ‘Take Me’, and rushing out of his townhouse.

He didn’t have time for a driver, so he opted for his motorcycle which he knew would piss you off once you found out. Especially because he also wasn’t in his typical suit and tie, no he was in his black jeans, a t-shirt, and his leather jacket. 

That would inevitably get him yelled at. He’d seen the schedule you emailed to him, specifically stating that the moment he got off of his flight, he needed to haul ass—your words not his—to the tower to be remotely present at a meeting regarding a potential impeachment hearing. It wasn’t his impeachment—thankfully.

Bucky would also probably have to deal with more press on the issue circulating who the ‘real Avengers’ were, which was also a previous major point of contention between him and Sam, to the point that Sam had threatened a full-on lawsuit, followed by a copyright of the ‘Avengers’ title itself.

But under your guidance, also known as you forcing him and Sam to sit down and talk things over like ‘real adults’, they were able to come to a temporary agreement solely based on the fact that the galactic threats, celestial island, and global terrorist movements were a bigger issue than who got to ‘play hero for the day’. Once again, your words not his.

To be fair, Bucky wouldn’t have missed his flight if you lived with him. But you were hellbent on not living in the same house as him, even if you were his assistant, you called it ‘highly inappropriate and fully unprofessional’. Which, in theory it was, but he didn’t really care about theory.

It made perfect sense to him, you were already always with him, what was moving in going to change? Or rather, what would moving in change, negatively.

Now, he had to figure out how to grovel for your forgiveness. He had a few ideas, but they were far from professionally appropriate. There’s that very obvious line that Bucky is well aware of, the line that he can’t cross, even if he’s constantly contemplating it.

He’d barely made it to the airport on time, and he’d paid extra to park his motorcycle, which pissed him off. Then he was practically sprinting through the airport to make his flight, which he somehow managed to board at the last possible minute.

By the time he landed in New York, you were already ready to curse him out. Now standing in the airport outside of his gate, arms crossed in front of your chest, foot tapping against the tiled floors while you stared directly at the crowd leaving the flight.

He spotted you before you spotted him. He knew he was in deep shit based on the way your jaw was clenched and your usually pristine hair was thrown into a hairclip, loose strands framing your face, frizzy bits and pieces sticking out of the clip, and you weren’t in your heels.Instead you had on a pair of flats. 

Flats were never a good sign. 

Plus you ditched the pencil skirt for pants, and a black blouse. 

“Listen, Sweetheart, I’m sorry—” 

You easily cut him off, immediately shushing him and taking a deep breath. “Let’s go before I cuss you out and lose my goddamn job.” 

He slowly nodded at your cold demeanor.

This was different.

You walked ahead of him, he wasn’t used to that. Usually you kept the same pace, but not today, not when you were in your angry flats and exhausted outfit. 

It wasn’t until the both of you were in a cab that you finally broke.

“Are you freaking kidding me, Barnes?! Can you not piss me off for one day? One day! It’s not like I asked something major, I sent you the flight last night at seven! You had more than enough time to set a damn alarm! And why the hell aren’t you in a suit?! Did you miss the fact that the millisecond we get back, you need to be present as a Congressman?! Not as yourself—” you took a deep breath, looking up at the roof of the car as you shook your head.

You looked over at him, and he finally noticed how stressed you really looked, his eyes trailing your fatigued features. This job was difficult, he knew that, but something else was clearly bothering you.

“I get it. You’re tired, your job is hard, okay fine. But Jesus Christ. You just act like shit doesn’t matter, and fuck—it fucking matters. Everything fucking matters, Buck—” 

His right hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer to him as he leaned forward to kiss you. 

It took you a few seconds to process the fact that James Buchanan Barnes was kissing you. The same James Barnes that was your boss who you were incredibly irritated with. But you didn’t pull away, no, you kissed him back.

Your lips moved in sync, and for a second you let yourself slip into a land of delusion where this would work. But this was real life, and you were not about to risk everything you’d worked hard for to screw your boss. So you shoved him off of you.

“What the fuck!?” 

He stared at you, lips slightly parted as his gaze was focused on your lips for a few more seconds. You tasted like strawberry chapstick and mint. Then his eyes met yours.

“Uh, something came over me, I guess?” his nonchalance made your eye twitch. Then you were shoving a folder full of paperwork into his chest.

“Focus on that or something, Jesus. Once again, I’m your assistant and that just crossed so many boundaries it’s not even funny. It was a mistake, plain and simple, we’re not circling back to this ever again, got it?” 

He slowly nodded at you, taking the leather-bound folder from you while rolling his lips inward.

The rest of the ride was silent. It wasn’t your typical comfortable silence, it was tense and awkward and you did your best to not look at him. Your gaze focused on the moving traffic in the streets and anything that wasn’t James Barnes. 

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Outside of your never-ending rage about my morning fuck ups—” 

You gasped slightly at the sound of him cursing. You knew he swore, but neither of you ever moved past words like ‘hell’ or ‘damn’ with one another, now you were both diving off of the deep end of cursing and kissing. This couldn’t possibly end well.

“Nothings wrong. I’m just tired.” 

He shrugged, flipping a few pages in hand, focused on the briefing notes that you’d reorganized. “No, something is definitely wrong, you have on one of your ‘having a bad day’ outfits. Down to the shoes.” 

You sighed, slumping into the seat with your arms crossed again. Eyes now on the street ahead. “My mom called.” 

He looked at you, noticing the way you were picking at the skin and cuticles around your thumb. It made sense, sure he knew you had a lot of pent up rage that was specifically reserved for him, but he was used to that, this was different. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to talk about. She’s having one of her ‘high on life’ phases again. Told me she’s off the pills. Won’t take them.” 

He nodded, he knew you had issues with your mom, but he also knew you really cared about her, even if you had an odd way of showing that. Not everyone was raised with ‘I love yous’. “Y’know you can always take time off to go see her, the worlds not gonna end.” 

You shook your head at that, gaze now on your hands. “I’m not putting myself through that again. You can’t save everyone, I’ve learned to accept that. Guess it makes me as depressed as the rest of the Thunderbolts, hmm?” You tried to crack a joke, but your usual laugh and silly expression was missing. He placed a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Once the two of you had arrived at the Avengers tower you were back in ‘work mode’ rushing Bucky into the building, rolling your eyes at some of the half-assed security measures on the first floor. More specifically the DNA based retina scan you were required to do in order to gain access to the higher levels where everyone lived.

You rushed him into a conference room, muttering a series of curse words that would for sure get you blackballed from politics if they were ever heard aloud. Especially in the context of cursing out other politicians.

Then, you were forcing Bucky into a seat, rolling your eyes at the sight of his appearance, sure he looked good in the leather jacket and fitted t-shirt, but that was the least professional thing he could’ve put on. You wanted to smack him with a book.

You didn’t need to be present for the impeachment proposal, so you gave yourself the hour to breathe. An hour of alone time, spent on the rooftop with your legs hanging over the edge, shoes already off and sitting to your side. At first you opted to put your earbuds in, listening to music as you glanced along the skyline, gaze moving across Manhattan, then you took them out.

Finding comfort in chaos was normal for you. It was easy. It’s the entire reason that you worked so well with the Flag Smashers in the first place—you were the brains they needed, and they were constantly on the move, constantly doing something. They never stood still.

Then, of course, they’d injected you with a super soldier serum against your will, but that was neither here nor there. Some days you missed working with organizations like that,they were fundamentally righteous and overzealous, but the people had passion, they cared. They had a problem and wanted to create their own solution, even if it was extreme.

You’d always wanted to do that, find solutions to the problems in the world. It made slipping into politics easier, especially at Sam’s side, and now at Bucky’s. 

But Bucky Barnes knew how to tick you off. 

Yet even on your shittiest days, he still managed to make you smile. Your fingers gently grazed your lips, as if they could feel the ghost of his against them. 

It was morally wrong for you to want to kiss your boss. Just like it was wrong to want to run your fingers through his hair, to trace his jawline, to feel his back muscles, and to imagine what it would be like to sleep with him beyond the realm of cuddling. Bucky kissing you was like opening Pandora’s box. 

You knew you were attracted to him, and he gave you butterflies from time to time, but now as you thought about him, you were thinking about more than just a simple kiss. 

The sound of your phone’s timer going off caught your attention, knocking you out of your sex-filled thoughts as you got up and slid your shoes back on. 

Once you made it back to the briefing room, he was no longer there, so you opted to look for him without screaming like a maniac. You’d run into Bob, Yelena, and Ava before finally finding him in one of the larger common spaces, now looking at his newest Winter Soldier tactical suit as it was laid out across a table.

“What, you wanna play dress up now?” 

He turned to look at you, shaking his head at the question. “Meeting went well, they asked me one question. I said yes to the trial.” 

You shook your head, cracking a small smile. One of the Texas representatives was going on trial for misconduct and for going against the constitution, he deserved to be impeached in your eyes, and after reading your very irritated notes on the matter, Bucky agreed with you.

“So, care to explain why you’ve got your gear?” 

He shrugged, now looking back at the black suit. “Well, turns out, I’m hanging up the mantle until my term is officially over. Talked it over with Yelena while you were decompressing. Besides, they seem to be doing alright without me all the time.” 

You slowly nodded, brows knit together as you moved to stand beside him, now looking at his suit as well. “That's it then? What if you end up severely out of shape and can’t run a mile?” 

He blinked a few times, shaking his head at the joke, then he lightly elbowed you. “Then I’ll have you to yell at me. Besides, I've already put on some weight.” 

You scoffed at that, responding without even thinking about it. “Barnes, you’ve got the dad bod that makes ovulating women foam out of their mouths. You’ve got that muscular frame that would keep someone warm at night.”

Your eyes widened when you looked up at him, he looked taken aback, lips slightly parted while he processed what you said. Then you had to process what you’d said as well.

“For the record, I mean that in a totally platonic, hype-woman kind of way. Oh and here—I found these, figured you might want them back.” 

He watched as you dug in your pocket, pulling out a thin silver chain, then he noticed the silver tags on them.

You held the necklace up, his military dog tags hanging from it. “Sergeant Barnes, you really should keep an eye on your things. They were in one of my purses. Honestly, not gonna lie, I had them on walking through TSA so I didn’t lose them.” 

He nodded at that, biting his bottom lip at the thought of you in his dog tags with nothing else on.

Then you snapped with your free hand. “Hello? Earth to Barnes? Take your tags. I don’t even know why I had them in the first place. Considering you almost never take them off.” 

He blinked a few times, shaking his head before running his hand through his hair. That brought your eyes to his hair, sure you’d made fun of the mid-length long hair a few times, but with the way his hair was parted down the middle, a bit voluminous, and managed to frame his face perfectly, he looked like prince charming.

If Prince Charming was a half-decent Congressman and former war criminal that managed to irritate you every twenty-seven minutes. 

“Keep them for me.” 

You raised a single brow at that, glancing between the dangling chain in hand and him.“Am I your closet or something?” 

He scoffed at that, shaking his head while placing his hands on his hips, the motion drawing your attention directly to his waist. It was a terrible thing to focus on, not because he was unattractive, but because it reminded you of every inappropriate thought and fantasy that had surfaced on the rooftop earlier.

“No, but consider them a good luck charm, besides, if I had taken them off and left them with you, clearly I trusted you with them. I’d be a liar if I said I remember the exact day that I left them, but I had to have a reason. Now c’mere—” he paused, gently taking the chain from you before facing you fully. 

He took a second to look down at you as you turned to face him. Then, he was slipping the necklace onto you, taking a moment to properly adjust the tags once they were dangling against your chest, the motion making you blush as his hand brushed against your clothed chest.

God, you felt like a bumbling virgin. 

This was his fault, all of it was his fault. If he hadn’t kissed you in the car none of this would be happening, you would’ve been able to keep any and all sexual thoughts about him locked in the deepest pits of your mind. Nothing would’ve changed, or shifted.

Hell, you weren’t even sure if something had shifted or if you were overthinking everything.

You made eye contact with him, getting lost in the ocean blue of his irises.The moment was intimate, too intimate. His tongue grazed his bottom lip as he held eye contact with you, a storm of emotions flowing through his eyes and wrecking his entire being.

Part of him wanted to kiss you again, the other part was afraid that if he did kiss you, you’d up and quit your job.

Bucky knew he needed you in his life. Not just because you helped elevate his political career in every sense, but because you kept him in check. You weren’t just his assistant, you were his friend, and even if he hated to admit it sometimes, he really did appreciate everything that you’d done for him.

The moment was interrupted by a door slamming, both of you jumping apart as you looked towards the far end of the room, Alexei walking in with Yelena in tow, the both arguing over her childhood soccer team’s sponsor once again. When they spotted how close you and Bucky were, they both paused, sharing a look before turning around and leaving the room.

You cleared your throat, glancing down at your watch. 

“I have to uh—shit sorry. I’m a little all over the place today, but I have to make a personal call. You don’t have much else to do today, there’s a few emails I need you to respond to though, and I forwarded you a request for a congressional scholarship. The kid lives in your old neighborhood in Brooklyn, and honestly, it’s a pretty convincing piece. I need your approval before moving forward in that process, lots of paperwork involved.”

You paused, pulling your phone out of your right pocket, glancing down at the screen while reading several text messages and a few subject lines from several emails forwarded to you.

“Turns out I have more than a few emails I need you to read. Oh, and I need to type up an outline for a briefing about the whole space war thing. I’ll forward everything over to you, and can you please,for the love of Christ himself, make sure to actually docusign the pdfs I send? Without your signature there’s no legality.” 

He shook his head, a small smile on his face as he watched you slip right back into ‘work mode’. It was all so natural for you, and your seriousness was adorable. 

“Are you even listening? I need to go call Sam and find out when he’s flying in. He should be here tonight, hopefully sooner than later. Also, Valentina’s been pissing Yelena off with her lawyers. I’ll be dealing with that fiasco today, honestly I’m probably just gonna threaten to blackmail them, works every time.”

“You talk a mile a minute.” 

You raised a brow at him, now looking back at him, slipping your phone back into your pocket. 

“You’re already on thin ice today, Barnes. Don’t start irritating me again. Oh and Mel wants to talk to you.” 

He noticed the shift in your tone at the mention of Valentina’s assistant. If he wasn’t so unsure of his feelings towards you, he would’ve been able to easily identify the jealousy in your voice. But, he was too busy internally debating whether or not kissing you again was a bad idea and simultaneously debating on resigning from his position as a Congressman.

Things would surely be a lot less stressful. 

Then again, you’d probably incinerate him.

“What’s she want to talk about exactly?” 

You simply shrugged, arms crossed in front of your chest as you tried to remain neutral. “I dunno, maybe call her back and find out, since she won’t tell me directly. She’ll only send me passive aggressive emails and texts about needing to reach you. I don’t even know who the hell gave her my number.”

Your irritation was seeping through, so instead of staying on the subject of Melissa Gold you chose to turn around, heading towards the doors, ready to head to your temporary bedroom (which Yelena said would be your permanent room once you settled into the tower) and work. 

He watched you walk away, eyes trialing your figure, stopping on your ass. Even in the wrinkled slacks it still looked good. Bucky’s head even tilted to the side a bit as your hips moved back and forth, 

“Call me if you need me, Barnes.”You hadn’t even turned back to look at him, then you were gone and he was still staring. 

Sam Wilson arrived at the Avenger’s tower at almost two in the morning. 

Naturally, you were still awake, sitting in an empty living room area.The only light in the room streaming in from the large floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Manhattan’s night-life. The room had a deep blue-ish purple hue to it, a few small golden lights shimmering around, emphasizing items that were plugged in or left out. 

Then there was your laptop screen that illuminated your features as you angrily typed up all of your unorganized committee notes into streamlined documents,not only your boss, but for the rest of his and Sam’s team. 

You recognized the footsteps in the room, three distinct sets, one lighter than the others—Kate’s, one with a bit of a wider stance and a slight sway as if their feet weren’t firmly planted on the floor—Joaquin’s, and finally, one that was louder, steps heavier—Sam’s. 

They hadn’t noticed you at first, not until the lights were turned on. Thankfully they were dim, not the typical bright fluorescents that would have driven you into a state of rage. Then the three of them saw you, seated on the large black sectional, a green knit blanket wrapped around your figure as your computer rested in your lap and one of the side tables had been pulled to your side, covered in files, paperwork, and pens. 

“Jesus kid, late night?” 

You sighed, nodding your head, not even bothering to turn and face Sam.“Working for the U.S. government is exhausting in an inexplicable way. But I’m glad you guys got in safe.”

Sam nodded at that “I’m gonna hit the hay, we’ll debrief in the morning? Actually, maybe in the afternoon. Gives you some time to sleep, I know you’ll be up for a while. Don’t worry about Buck either.”

You finally turned to look at him, a small smile on your face while you nodded at that. “I’d get up to hug you but I’m finally comfortable.” 

Kate laughed at that, moving to the couch, leaning over the back of it, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a warm embrace. “I missed you! We’ll catch up tomorrow or the day after! But I gotta go find Yel. Pretty sure she waited up for me.” 

You used your right arm to hug her back.“Yeah, she’s on the eighth floor, go down the corridor, last door to the left. She’s most definitely waiting on you, earlier today she was talking Bob’s ear off about you, Bishop.” You both laughed at that, then she kissed the top of your head, a dramatic ‘mwah’ leaving her lips as she gathered her things and left the room.

Sam followed suit, saying his ‘goodnight’s’. It made you contemplate packing things up and trying to head back to sleep.

Truthfully, you’d fallen asleep at around seven, a distinct lack of sleep the night before causing you to crash. But of course, you weren’t able to sleep peacefully through the night, rather you jolted awake in a cold sweat at 11:23pm, eyes wide as you processed the very explicit dream about Bucky. Not only was it explicit, but it left a noticeable damp spot in your panties.

That pissed you off.

The cold shower that followed also ticked you off.

You wanted to stay in your room, however it was too hot in there, and you couldn’t figure out how to work the air conditioner, which led to you migrating to one of the living room-esque common spaces on the floor that held several guestrooms.

It was always cold.

“Well hello to you too!” Joaquin smiled as he rounded the couch, opting to sit right beside you, leaning into your space while he looked at the laptop screen, brows raised at the side-by-side page display showcasing a numerical outline with different bolded headings, subheadings, and specific details regarding each categorized issue. 

“Damn, sometimes I forget how smart you are.” 

You yawned while nodding. “This is literally my own personal hell. I hate organizing my notes, but I can’t just force everyone to read my scribbles. I only force Buck to do that.”

He elbowed you, earning your attention as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down, signature smirk on his face. “So…you call him Buck now I see?” 

You groaned, lightly shoving Joaquin. “Don’t even start! He’s my boss! That’s it.” You felt the heat in your cheeks as you attempted to lie to Joaquin. It didn’t help that the man was one of your closest friends, and could see right through you. He was quick to scoff, lightly elbowing you again, over and over.

“Yeah right, just your boss my ass! That’s like when I said my physical therapist was just my therapist. You’re full of shit and you know it!” 

You sighed, saving the document you were working on before shutting the laptop, placing it on the table in front of you, s.hoving him away to get comfortable again, you now face Joaquin with your legs criss-crossed on the large sofa cushion. “That is not the same thing!”

He nodded his head, scooting back some to face you, the positioning very familiar to you both. When you first started working with Sam, Joaquin had welcomed you with open arms. He hadn’t judged you, not after hearing your story, and after witnessing your peaceful surrender. Well, it was somewhat peaceful, you’d fought Bucky first, eventually managing to take him down—but that wasn’t important.

It was easy to bond with Joaquin, mainly because he never stopped talking. He’d easily gone from being just your co-worker to your friend, and now one of your best friends.

“Uh yes it is, we literally went back and forth for like years. Pretty sure I fell in love with her the moment I laid my eyes on her, then had to do the whole ‘this is strictly professional’ thing forever. Bullshited reasons to be around her, fought with her constantly, but in the end she was right—still is right most of the time, and we’re completely and utterly in love. Plus the sex is great? Wait—have you and him hooked up yet?” 

Your jaw dropped, eyes wide as shock painted your features. Then you were leaning towards him, smacking him on the bicep a few times.“Hell no! Once again he’s my literal boss. What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Joaquin raised a single brow at that. “So something did happen. Your left eye twitched a little! What aren’t you telling me? Wait, are you still jealous of that other assistant that he talks to sometimes?”

You smacked him again.“Joaquin Torres, keep your freaking voice down! Jesus! And no I’m not jealous of Mel. What’s there to be jealous of?!” You were being too defensive, and your voice had gone up an octave.

“Stop bullshitting me! You’re so into him and you hate how caring he sounds when he talks to her, or do I need to pull the series of spam texts you sent me telling me how much you hated her and hated him. Or the drunken voicemail?” He held his phone up, staring at you while your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.“Now, tell me what happened between the both of you!”

You sighed, nodding your head, running a hand over your face before giving in and divulging him on everything that had gone on in the past forty-eight hours. Even letting him know about the car kiss, followed by the sexual tension that you knew was obvious, and finally, the most embarrassing detail being your wet dream about him.

Of course you didn’t go into detail about the dream.

“Damn, you’re more whipped than I am, and I’m in an actual relationship.” That earned another smack. “Hey! Okay, shit! Stop hitting me woman! Wait—what’s that—” he pointed to his neck, then to yours.

Your eyes widened as you reached a hand up, the blanket had fallen off of one of your shoulders, exposing the loose U Miami crewneck that you had on, except you’d cut the neckline so it sat off of your shoulder. It hadn’t occurred to you that you still had Bucky’s dog tags on. Then you felt around your neck and upper chest, hands finally grasping the tags.

“No way in hell he gave you those and you’re ‘strictly professional’.” He spoke with air quotations while watching you grasp the tags in one hand. “Yeah, that’s definitely your man, are you kidding me? The only person I’d ever trust with my tags is my girl. Here's some advice though, when you two finally go at it, and you’re on top of him make sure they’re in his fac-” 

He was hit in the face by a throw pillow. 

The two of you spent the next hour and a half talking. Joaquin kept trying to convince you that you were clearly in love with Bucky and vice versa. Meanwhile, you argued the entire time, and tried to turn the subject towards anything else.Eventually, the both of you settled on his current relationship, and it was nice to see him gush over his physical therapist turned girlfriend. 

You even told him that you were proud he’d managed to find someone who loved that he never shut up, the two of you in a fit of laughter after that.

The next afternoon had passed by fairly quickly, mostly because you were extremely busy.

You’d barely seen Bucky, only speaking with him during your debrief on the current galactic issues, but that hour and a half was mostly focused on answering Yelena and Sam’s questions based on the information provided by the U.S. government.

Sure, some of it was technically top secret, but you all technically were employed by the government, and did also hold the security clearance to know about the ongoing monitoring. 

He wasn’t in a suit again and you weren’t in your heels. Actually, you’d foregone any professional attire. It was a rare sight for everyone to see you in a t-shirt and sweats, not to mention the white fuzzy slippers. Your hair was pulled into two braids and you lacked any makeup, even wearing your prescription glasses that you usually left at home.

Bucky didn’t focus on a single thing you said during the briefing. His gaze was fixated on you and all he could think about was how comfortable and casual you looked, and that flooded his mind with domestic fantasies about you. Said fantasies almost spiraled into the thought of you with a ring on your left hand, a round belly, and a baby on your hip with eyes as blue as the clear sky.

He had to snap himself out of it several times. The fantasy was just that, a fantasy. You were still his assistant, and you’d already made it plenty clear that you were not interested in any semblance of a romantic relationship with him. Things were strictly professional, and once his term was over, you’d go your separate ways.

You’d practically sprinted out of the conference room once the hour and a half had passed, and he knew you were supposed to be helping in preparations for the fundraiser with Sam and Joaquin. He didn’t care that you and Joaquin were ‘just friends’, the thought of you spending your time with him irritated Bucky in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

By the time the fundraiser itself was starting, you were nowhere to be found and he was stuck making small talk with local politicians. Most of what they discussed surrounded Bucky’s future plans once the term had settled, he’d made a few comments about running for re-election and being an Avenger, stating that it might clash, doing his best to warm people up to the idea of him having to choose one over the other.

It was an obvious choice for him.

Well obvious outside of the fact that if he chose to be an Avenger, he might lose you, but then again, you were also technically an Avenger, whether you liked it or not. You’d been there that day in Manhattan, you were in the void, and you were at the conference, standing right beside him.

Then Mel had finally tracked him down, pulling him into a more secluded area, showing him a series of top-secret footage that Valentina had been trying to fully erase regarding the Sentry project. She was giving him useful information that would not only help Bob better understand who and what he was, but information that could be leveraged over Valentina if needed.

It was classic blackmail, something that you often shrugged off. It wasn’t that you were blackmailing people all the time, but you said it was part of politics, and he fully allowed you to do whatever you wanted. He trusted you to make the right decisions for both of your careers, and time and time again, you did.

“Oh, hey Y/n, you look beautiful tonight!” Mel’s chipper voice irritated you. 

You’d stumbled across them accidentally. You’d been looking for Sam, and instead you managed to find Mel and Bucky, leaning close together, in a quiet dimly lit area. You could clearly see the phone in her hand that she was showing to him, but she was too close to Bucky.

He turned away from Mel, gaze now on you, his brows raised a bit while his lips parted, eyes practically burning a hole into you while he took in every inch of your appearance from head to toe.

Your hair was voluminous and clearly curled, the now loose-waves framing your face perfectly and cascading along your shoulders and back. Your makeup was minimal, almost identical to your typical look, except your lips were a deep crimson and your waterline was emphasized with a black smoked-out eyeshadow look (courtesy of Yelena).

He bit his bottom lip while taking in your dress, the black silk practically hugging all of your curves perfectly. The swoop neckline leaving little to the imagination, and you had on his dog tags, the lengthy chain disappearing into your obvious cleavage, tags clearly in the valley between your tits.

You had on your heels again, black pointed toe stilettos with some golden designer logo for the heel. He didn’t care about the designers, all Bucky cared about in this exact moment was controlling himself. If Mel hadn’t been there he would’ve had you pinned against the wall with his lips on yours already. 

“Thanks Mel. Barnes, I’ve been looking for you” 

He slowly nodded, unsure of what to say, too focused on what not to say.

You were quick to grab Bucky’s forearm, pulling him in your direction before offering Mel a forced smile. “Mind if I borrow him? Got a few things to go over.” She nodded, giving you a tight lipped smile as you made eye contact. Then, you were dragging Bucky away from her, rolling your eyes the second you knew she couldn’t see you anymore.

“So what exactly do we need to talk about?” 

You shrugged at the question, finally letting go of his arm, then facing him.“Some district court judge told me that you’re debating on running for re-election and fully committing to the Avengers? The hell is that about?” 

You honestly didn’t care, but it was the easiest thing to come up with.

He wondered if you were jealous, but maybe he was reading too much into the situation. Usually you’d know that he was bullshitting, most of your job involved calling him on his bullshit, there was no way in hell Bucky was running for re-election.

“Gotta warm them up to the idea, you’re always saying it’s important to ease people into dramatic changes aren’t you?” he put his hands in his pants pockets, raising his brows while he waited on a response. 

“Okay…that’s actually a good point. I dunno, I just had to double check that with you. Sorry for pulling you away from Mel, feel free to go talk with her.” Then you spun around, heading in the opposite direction. 

Bucky knew you were jealous. That confirmed it. He wasn’t losing it, you were one hundred percent jealous of Mel and he had no idea why, anyone with a pair of eyes would know that he wasn’t remotely interested in the woman romantically. 

Sure Mel was pretty, but she wasn’t you. 

The open bar was a bad idea.

Two hours had passed since then, and you’d managed to do all of your networking within the first half hour. Kate and Yelena had peer pressured you into getting a drink, and one drink quickly turned into two, then three, then Joaquin was bringing you a drink, and it spiraled from there.

It took a lot to get you drunk. The whole ‘super soldier serum’ issue made your metabolism much, much faster. At the rate that you were drinking, any normal person would’ve needed their stomach pumped at the emergency room. But you weren’t a normal person, not anymore at least.

You were one hundred percent drunk. There wasn’t any debate on the matter.

Which led you to being a lot friendlier than usual, laughing and flirting with other guests, a playful aura to you while you mixed and mingled with everyone.

It wasn’t until you were laughing with Joaquin, head leaning against his shoulder while you sat near the bar, talking about his girlfriend, that Bucky had finally found you.

He knew that you were networking, what he didn’t know was that you’d been drinking. 

Then again, he’d also been drinking, and the typical spark of jealousy he felt when you mentioned Joaquin was now a raging forest fire as he took in the sight of you leaning into Joaquin, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, both of you smiling and laughing at something that Kate had said. 

Joaquin nudged you a bit, earning your full attention, a hazy smile on your face while you moved to look at him. His brows were knit together as he tried to look serious.“Your boyfriend is staring us down.” 

You blinked a few times, now glancing across the room, eyes scanning the crowd of people, only to land on Bucky who held a champagne glass in-hand while he stood in a group of four men, all of them clearly in a conversation. Except now his attention was fully on you, holding eye contact.

“Please, if he was my boyfriend we’d be having freaky sex all the time.” You both bursted into another fit of laughter, your gaze now on Joaquin, then on Kate who looked absolutely shocked.

“Wait?! What! You and Bucky?!” 

You shrugged, then shook your head at her. “There is no me and Bucky! He’s my boss who’s bones I can’t jump!” 

She laughed at that, shaking her head while sipping her long island.“Why can’t you do that again? I know he’s like technically your boss, but that man wants you girl, like, he’s always eye-fucking you. I think he’s eye-fucking you now not gonna lie.” She looked over at him, and you mirrored her.

His eyes met yours again. He didn’t care what you were talking about, nor did he care what the men around him were speaking about. The topic having gone in one ear and out of the other. 

Bucky Barnes’ sole focus was now on you.

You and that black satin dress that would look so much better on the floor.

You who sat smiling and laughing with Joaquin Torres. 

Bucky was beyond jealous, the liquor flowing through his veins easily letting his composure slip. He swore that if he watched you lean any closer to Joaquin that he’d storm over there and throw you over his shoulder.

Then you did just that, laughing again and rolling your head forward a bit, forehead resting in the crook of Joaquin’s neck while your body shook with laughter.

Bucky easily excused himself, mumbling something about having to speak with his assistant, which earned a few wolf whistles when the men noticed you across the room. Specifically, they noticed the way you sat up now, two hands on the front of your dress, grasping the fabric and adjusting it slightly-your very present cleavage now a bit more tamed.

It had taken him exactly forty-five seconds to get to you.

Joaquin noticed him first, slipping his arm away from you, offering Bucky a tight-lipped smile.

Then you made eye contact with Bucky again, his typical icey-blue eyes were a few shades darker, pupils a bit dilated while he looked directly at you.

“So, you’ve been drinking on the job I see?” His tone was laced in venom, your brows knit together at the harshness of it, sitting up a bit straighter, glancing at Kate, then Joaquin, just to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. They both gave a subtle nod, then you were standing up and grabbing Bucky’s right arm, pulling him with you.

He let you guide him, then you two were in a crowded hallway, taking a left turn, then a right, then finding the elevator that would lead you directly to your designated floor.

“What’s your problem, Barnes?” 

He scoffed at that.“Let’s see, my assistants drunk, not working. I’d say that’s enough of a reason to be irritated.” 

You blinked a few times, looking around as if you were on the Truman show, or maybe this was an episode of Punk’d and Ashton Kutcher would jump out at you.“Everyone’s drunk, what's the issue? It’s a charity fundraiser, we raised like ten million tonight. Can I not celebrate?! I’ve done my job for the night, I just want to spend the rest of it as me—not your fucking assistant.” 

You were getting loud now, angrily pressing the elevator button, a surprised gasp when the doors immediately opened. Then without any hesitation you walked right in, leaving him in the hallway. 

Bucky wasn’t having it, not tonight.

He followed right behind you. “You’ve never had an issue with being my fucking assistant before. It’s always about professionalism with you! Boundaries and shit like that!” 

You rolled your eyes again, hitting the button for your floor while shaking your head.“Because professionalism is important! We all can’t be you, Bucky! Not all of us can be America’s fucking sweetheart!” You didn’t even look at him as you shouted, gaze focused on the small digital screen above the elevator doors, the red numbers switching as the elevator ascended into the higher levels of the tower.

Then it stopped on your floor, and you were shoving past him, shoulder checking him while storming towards your room.

“Seriously?! That’s it, just gonna run away? What, suddenly all that bullshit about communication doesn’t matter?!” He ran a hand through his hair as he yelled after you, hot on your heels.

You turned on your heel, brows knit together as you stared at him, only a few feet from your room.“What the hell is the real reason you’re being a massive asshole tonight?! I know it’s not because I’ve been drinking. I’m a grown ass woman, Bucky! I’m not some little kid you get to yell at and fucking criticize and treat like shit! Or like a personal punching ba-” 

His lips were on yours. You hadn’t registered how close he actually was to you. He had a hand on your forearm, pulling you flush against his chest as he collided his lips against yours. 

Your hands were immediately on him, one hand grasping his suit, the other in his hair.

Then he was backing you up into the wall, his left hand on your jaw—holding you in place. You whimpered at the feeling, not because it bothered you, but because his vibranium hand was cold, a shock against your warm flushed skin. Bucky’s lips led yours, his head slightly tilting, giving himself the opportunity to get even closer to you, his hair brushing against your face.

His lips were soft, he tasted like champagne and mint with a hint of tobacco. 

It was almost soothing, but it also made you feel hazy.

Instead of asking for entrance, he pressed his thumb against your chin below your bottom lip, applying minimal pressure as he tugged in a downward motion. 

You easily parted your lips, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss while he swallowed your soft whimpers. 

It didn’t help that one of his thighs was directly between yours, pinning you against the wall. He felt your thighs clench around his, pulling back slightly, heavy breaths hitting your parted lips.

“Tell me to stop and I will—I swear.” He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, thankful that the Wakandan technology in his arm and shoulder actually allowed him to have a sense of feeling. It hadn’t mattered to him before this moment, watching as you looked up at him, feeling your soft, swollen, and spit-slick lip. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop,” your words were quiet while you looked at him, hand grasping against his suit even tighter. The hand that had been in his hair now slowly grazing against his cheek, fingers moving to his jawline, tracing the sharp ridges before sliding down his throat.

“Y’can’t say shit like that to me Sweetheart—makes me think you care.” He let out a deep sigh, eyes moving from yours down to your lips again.

“James, I do care.” You’d said his name so tenderly, so lovingly. Then you leaned into him, now kissing him first, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Both of his hands now on your waist, your bodies flush against one another while your lips move in sync. The kiss should’ve been angrier, should’ve had more teeth, but it was surprisingly soft, sweet, and even slow. He kissed you with passion and hunger, as if he wanted to leave the imprint of his lips against yours. 

You grinding yourself against his thigh had the both of you breaking apart, gasping for air, then he took a singular step back, doing a short half-squat, hands on the backs of your thighs before he scooped you up, holding you against his waist, lips back on yours as you locked your legs around his waist, hands in his hair.

The next few minutes involved more kissing and fumbling through your bedroom door. He kicked it shut before pressing you against it, lips moving from your own, to your jaw, planting open-mouthed wet kisses along your soft skin. 

Your entire body was on fire, and truthfully, you’d never been hornier. 

“Buck—as much as I want to go slow with you—I need you to fuck me.”

He laughed against your skin, teeth nipping a mark in the crook of your neck, earning a whimper. Then he licked a flat stripe along your pulse point, making you shiver.

“You’re always so mean and demanding, now you’re needy? C’mon, Sweetheart, you’ve gotta throw an old dog a bone.” His tone was so flirty, voice gruff and deep as he spoke between kisses. His hands sliding from your upper thighs to your ass, using his lower body to help stabilize you.

Then he was moving one hand, slipping it between your legs, below your bunched up gown. His rough fingertips moved against your inner thighs as he sucked on your pulsepoint. Then his fingers paused, lightly brushing against your clothed core, the motion making you whine, your hands tugging on his hair while he remained still.

“Ask nicely, baby.” He smirked against your skin.

You groaned, now looking at him, tugging harshly on his hair, practically ripping him away from your throat so you could look at him. Holding eye contact as you spoke. “Please fuck me, with your fingers, your tongue, your cock—I don’t give a shit—just please fucking fuck me.” 

He bit his bottom lip, still smirking at your request, then his fingers were gliding along the damp fabric of your panties, up and down—over and over again. Bucky was clearly teasing you, and it was driving you insane. But he caved when you moaned his name—not Bucky—no you moaned a low pitched ‘James-please’.

Bucky didn’t let anyone call him James, you were the only one that had ever really used his first name and usually it was on rare occasions, but clearly the liquid confidence and horniness brought out a different side of you. 

His hand slipped below your panties, finding your slick folds, two thick fingers teasing you, sliding along your cunt, spreading your wetness from your sopping hole to your sensitive clit, then back down again. The sounds of your moans were music to his ears, that in combination with your hands tugging at his hair and your hips grinding against his hand was sending him into overdrive.

Eventually he stopped teasing you, lips back on your own, swallowing your moans while his fingers rapidly fucked into you, two thick digits stretching you perfectly, the feeling had your toes curling, one of your heels already on the floor behind him. It wasn’t long until you were kicking the other one off as well.

You were rolling your hips into his hand, whimpering his name like a prayer while his fingers curled inside of you, reaching the spot that usually made you see stars. A spot that you could never quite hit on your own, meanwhile it took Bucky little to no effort to get to it. 

“Just like that Sweetheart, c’mon give it to me, I deserve it.” His voice was deeper than usual as he spoke.

You nodded desperately, back arching while your head leaned against the wall, loudly whining as your orgasm crashed through your body, all of your nerve endings practically on fire.

“That’s it baby, gonna have you creaming on my cock next.” He went back to kissing along your throat and any exposed skin he had access to, fingers still fucking into you, prolonging your orgasm and ushering in a wave of oversensitivity.

“Fuck me, please,” your breathy words were quieter than usual as you looked at him, one hand toying with the hair closest to the base of his neck, the other gripping his suit again. 

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, in seconds you were laying flat on your bed as he unbuttoned his jacket, tossing it aside, then undid the buttons of his shirt. Your stare was driving him mad.

Then you were sitting up, now standing right in front of him, taking a moment to appreciate your height difference before shoving him onto the bed. He looked shocked at the motion, blinking a few times as he watched you slip out of the dress, the black fabric now nothing more than a pile at your feet. 

His eyes trailed your figure, practically memorizing every single detail of your bare body. 

The moment was much more intimate than either of you had expected.

Well, until you were practically climbing on top of him, straddling his waist and pulling him into a sloppy drunk kiss. This time it was all teeth and tongue, your mind already hazy enough from the first orgasm and all hesitation had been thrown away. Your hands were all over him, sliding along his bare chest, feeling the faint definitions of muscle along his abdomen.

He let out a strangled moan the second your hand moved into his pants, now palming his thick cock for a few seconds before sliding it out of his pants. His hips instinctively bucked into your hand, and for a second you debated on taking his girthy length down your throat.

“Fuck-don’t even try it-need to be inside you.” His words were strained, pulling away from the kiss slightly as you pumped your hand on his shaft, thumb spreading the beads of precum around his tip, smiling against his lips while he moaned.

Then you were pulling away, biting his bottom lip and tugging at it. “But I wanna taste you.” You trailed your tongue along his jaw before lightly biting against it, then trailing kisses down his throat. 

He watched as you kissed along his exposed chest and abdomen, eventually slotting yourself between his thighs. You were going to be the death of him, his eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of you arching your back, ass in the air, face inches from his throbbing cock. 

You spit on it, biting your bottom lip as you used both of your hands to jerk him off, moving in a twisting motion, spreading the mixture of your saliva and his precum along his veiny cock. 

“You’re so big Buck—or would you prefer Congressman? Since you want me to be your little secretary forever.” 

He moaned, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath and control himself. It’d been a while since he’d had sex, and at this rate, he was about to cum all over your face if you kept your mean facade up.

“Can’t wait to feel you inside of me Congressman Barnes.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, how you managed to sound so demeaning while fisting his cock was beyond his comprehension. He let out a choked moan the second your mouth wrapped around the flushed red head of his cock.

Then you were moaning around him, taking more and more of him into your warm, wet mouth. His metal hand was now in your hair, grasping the frizzy strands, pulling them away from your face as you hollowed your cheeks in and started to bob your head—only really taking half of him at once.

Your tongue swirled around his cock as you sucked him off, moaning at the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue. This was downright sinful, and it was everything you’d wanted over the past few months. When you finally decided to take him out of your mouth, you laughed, smiling as you caught your breath, a string of spit connecting his cock to your lips.

The sight had him moaning your name like a prayer.

“Shit baby—fuck you gotta stop ‘m gonna cum.” 

You bite your swollen bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes for a few seconds. Then you were pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, using the head to spread his precum along your lips before wrapping your lips back around it. One hand slowly moving along his thick shaft while you focused on the most sensitive part of his cock.

The way he was pulling your hair burned in the best way, the sting from your scalp plus the taste of his cock had you moaning and whimpering against him.

“Shit—fuck—oh shit, Sweetheart.” He was practically whimpering as he came, cum coating your tongue and mouth, and you swallowed, then moved back, now sticking your tongue out, jacking him off with one hand as thick ropes of cum shot from his cock onto your tongue. A few missing slightly, painting parts of your face.

This was downright sinful. Sure Bucky knew that if Heaven truly did exist then he’d most certainly be going to Hell, but this? This earned him a spot in the deepest layer of Hell.

He moaned your name as he came, watching as you drunkenly giggled and let him give you a partial facial. This was straight out of a porno, if you were a pornstar he wouldn’t be surprised.

You smiled at him, taking your thumbs and index fingers, dragging them along your cum-stained face, gathering his spend before licking it off, one by one. 

He’d sat up so fast he hadn’t registered it, not until he was pulling you further into his lap, his metal hand squishing the bottom of your face slightly as he grasped your chin, pulling you into a rough, sloppy kiss. 

“You’re fuckin filthy,” he spoke against your lips, hand now on your throat, the cold vibranium a stark contrast to your warm skin. It made your head fuzzy. 

One thing Bucky was thankful for was his stamina, he’d always had pretty good stamina, but post-serum some days he felt like he could fuck for hours on end.

He hadn’t registered your movement until your hand was grasping the base of his cock and you were easing yourself onto him, gasping against his lips. He bit down on your bottom lip, and he knew he’d broken a bit of the skin based on the taste of iron in his mouth. But you were so tight around him, if he hadn’t been drunk before, he sure as hell was now.

“F-fuck ‘ts so big,” your words had a slight slur to them as you sat flush against him, forehead now leaning against his shoulder while you let yourself adjust to his sheer size. After a few seconds you started grinding your hips on him, back and forth, whimpering against his skin.

“C’mon, Sweetheart, I know you can do better than that.” His hands were on your waist now, loosely holding you, slowly guiding your movements, helping you build a rhythm.

You nodded, now sitting up a bit straighter, slowly pulling your hips off of him, then sliding back, taking each inch of his cock until you were filled to the brim. 

He bit his bottom lip as he looked at you, then he was nipping and sucking marks into your chest, focusing on each of your tits as they started to move more and more the faster you bounced on his cock.

“Just like that, keep going baby, know you can take it.” 

You nodded, your head leaning back slightly as you placed your hands on his thighs, back arching even more, using his body for leverage to help ground yourself and build your pace. 

The mixture of your moans practically echoed off of the walls, alongside the sloshing wetness of your cunt and the sound of skin slapping as you continued to take his cock. All you could focus on was the feeling of his thick shaft deep inside of you, stretching you deliciously, and the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, not exactly bruising, but the pressure added another level to your pleasure that you hadn’t experienced in the past.

His lips were parted as he held onto your waist, hands moving down to your hips, fingers bruisingly tight as he kept your movements up, not letting you falter for even a second. Bucky’s eyes focused on your cunt taking him, a ring of your wetness evident on his girthy length each time you moved up, then slammed your hips back down.

It had him salivating. 

Bucky’s eyes were stuck on you, fixated on your every movement, but what really got to him was the sight of you in his tags, the thin metal moving with you, and in this exact moment he knew you were it for him.

“You’re so fuckin beautiful,” his voice was gruff and strained while, he felt himself teetering closer and closer to the edge, meanwhile you were lost in your own world of pleasure, taking everything you could from him—using him.

It made him delirious in a way he couldn’t describe.

“‘M gonna cum-fuck Bucky—oh my god-” you moaned and whimpered, words coming out as a high pitched whine. Your rhythm was faltering, but he kept you moving, your hands now leaving his thighs, instead they were overtop his own that were holding your hips. Your fingers gripped his hands, nails practically digging into his skin as you moaned his name.

“Bucky…Bucky…oh shit…Bucky!”

It was music to his ears. Then he felt you fluttering against him, clenching down on his cock, tight walls practically milking him as you gushed against him. Your body trembling slightly, still moaning a mixture between his name and curse words.

Then you said it, “Oh fuck—right there—James!” 

That’s all it took for him to let out a deep, guttural moan, your name slipping past his lips as he came. Warmth spilling inside of you, as he bucked his hips into you a few times, losing himself in the moment.

You both sat in a breathy silence for several minutes after. You didn’t even bother getting off of him, instead you shoved his upper body down onto the bed and laid right on top of him. You weren’t ready to leave and let the fantasy shatter. Not yet at least.

He traced small shapes into your back as you laid against him, your head resting against the right side of his chest, your fingers slowly gliding along the ridges of his arm, then you paused before hesitantly moving to the scars along his left shoulder leading into his arm. You always knew they were there, but you hadn’t ever seen them up close. 

“Did you do this to yourself?” your voice was quiet and soft, much softer than usual.

“I think so, it was so long ago, it’s all kind of fuzzy. I think I tried ripping the metal out, or digging it out of my skin. I wanted to read the records on it—on me. But I never could bring myself to do it” He let out a deep sigh at the vague memories, but before he started mentally spiraling, you moved again, this time leaving a soft kiss to his jaw.

“I’m sorry that you were put through hell and back Bucky.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I wouldn't have met you if that hadn’t happened to me.”

You didn’t respond, the intimacy of the moment finally getting to you, especially considering his cock was still inside of you. So you moved off of him, wincing at the soreness of it all. Then you were practically sprinting to your ensuite. 

He thought you’d be kicking him out, so he opted to start getting up, but when you walked out of the bathroom, hands now on your hips with an oversized grey t-shirt that read ‘ARMY’, he blinked a few times.

“Where the hell did you get my shirt?”

You shrugged, glancing down at the shirt. It had to be one of the few shirts he owned that wasn’t fitted. Honestly, you don’t remember when or where you’d gotten it, but it was most likely something that Sam had given you after a long night of sparring.

“Why are you getting dressed?” The question sounded almost meek, you internally cringed at how clingy it made you feel. If he wanted to leave, he could leave. It would hurt your feelings, but this wasn’t your boyfriend. Bucky was your boss, and you’d be internally scolding yourself for the next week about tonight.

“Uh, I assumed you wanted me to go,” he motioned towards the door.

“Don’t be an asshole and just ditch me after you fucked me.” 

His jaw dropped at your words, brows now knit together, head tilted slightly. “Don’t make it sound like this was more than just sex, Sweetheart.” Bucky knew he was being a bit harsh, but he had to keep his heart guarded, the risk of you completely rejecting him was still there, and he knew he couldn’t handle that tonight. 

You scoffed at that, arms now crossed in front of your chest as you glared at him. “Excuse me? Are you serious right now?! It’s not like I blatantly admitted to caring about you before you damn near fucked me in the hallway!” You were louder than expected, practically screaming at him. Anger coursing through your veins as you stared at him.

“You’re the one who always wants to be professional! Then you get drunk and things are different! What happens when you’re—when we’re sober! Then what?” He ran a hand through his hair, holding eye contact with you as his breathing picked up. Bucky braced himself for rejection. At least if you rejected him, he’d finally be able to move on—or that’s what he told himself.

Bucky knew for a fact he’d never be over you. Not while you worked for him, and even after his term as a Congressman ended, he knew he’d never be rid of his feelings for you.

You were a once in a lifetime kind of love, that much he knew. Anytime someone spoke about the love of their life with him, they’d ask if he knew what it felt like. If he knew what it was like to care so deeply for someone that none of their flaws mattered. It didn’t matter how angry you made him, or how annoying you could be, James Buchanan Barnes would forever be in love with you.

You’re the first woman that he’d met that had pissed him off within seconds of speaking to one another. Bucky would never forget the day that the two of you met for four distinct reasons:

The first being the long-winded chase that he and Sam had been on in attempts to takedown the Flag Smashers. They’d bickered the entire time, but it ultimately brought them much closer, to the point that Sam was family now. It also helped that they shared an equal dislike for John Walker, but that wasn’t relevant.

The second major reason was because the second he’d spotted you, he was taken aback, you stood beside Karli, attempting to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. Then you were arguing with her, and all he’d managed to catch on to was the fact that you knew Sam was right. He also realized how smart you were in that exact moment.

The third reason that he’d never forget that day—outside of you being incredibly beautiful—was the feeling of your fists colliding directly with his ribcage, followed by a swift kick to the gut that had him on his back. He tried to keep up with you, but he’d been a bit out of practice and with his ongoing struggle of making amends, the last thing he wanted to do was fight a woman he was eighty years older than.

The fourth and final reason though, was the blurry sight of you squatting next to him, asking if he was alright and apologizing profusely for knocking him to the ground. You’d grasped his face, taking in the damage, grimacing at the sight of his bruised and bloody features. You then proceeded to clean him up, calling him an ‘idiot’ for not properly fighting back.

Bucky stared directly at you, his brooding silence made your eyes water. Maybe this was it, maybe he really didn’t care as much as he let on.

That pushed you over the edge.

“I had to be fucking professional Buck! I’m so sorry that I have a job, and ambitions for a career that I don’t even think I want anymore! I’m sorry that I didn’t want to be known as the girl that fucked her way up!” Your voice was loud as you shouted at him, your voice started cracking and the tears started falling. You were quick to wipe them away, chest rapidly rising and falling as you shook your head.

“You don’t get it, Sweetheart. I know you have ambitions, I know you have goals, but I’ve spent the past year and a half swallowing my own goddamn feelings for you! I know you don’t want to be the girl that sleeps with her boss! God damnit for once—for once I just thought that tonight we could be us. Not a congressman, not a secretary, just two fucking idiots in love!” 

He was yelling back now, running both hands through his hair as he looked at you. The sight of you in tears had his heart breaking, he wanted to kick his own ass for making you cry. 

“Then why are you trying to leave?” You sounded so small, so weak. Then you looked down at the ground, avoiding his stare. You’d always struggled with vulnerability, and right now you felt as if you were about to explode.

You were so focused on the ground and tuning everything out that you hadn’t noticed him getting off of the bed and walking towards you. Not until he nudged your foot with his, even then you didn’t look at him, shaking your head a bit. “This is embarrassing, just go Bucky.”

“I need you to look at me, Sweetheart.” He was looking directly at you, ready to pour his heart out.

You slowly lifted your head, cringing at the closeness and intimacy.

He took a second to use his right hand to brush some of your tears away, now caressing the side of your face. “I don’t want to leave. I thought you’d want me out, thought this was a one night stand, never speak about it again, or as you would say ‘never circle back to this’ again.” 

Bucky tried not to laugh at you clenching your jaw, clearly cringing at your own words being used against you.

“Tonight we’re just us. You’re y/n and I’m Bucky. You’re not my secretary, I’m not your boss. We’re friends, hell we’re way more than friends. Tomorrow we can figure out the logistics of it all, but tonight—tonight I’m telling you that I’m so desperately in love with you that I go to sleep dreaming of you and wake up missing you.” 

He paused, thumb caressing your bottom lip slightly, running along the evident split he’d caused. 

“Everytime I see you with another guy I feel like I’m about to implode. That includes Joaquin and I know you feel the same way, I saw how you got with Mel. You make me crazy in the best way. I’ve never felt like this about anyone in my life—and don’t even think about interrupting me to call me an old man. I love you. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the moment you called me an idiot after kicking my ass in Germany. I loved you when Sam sent your reluctant ass to be my secretary. I love you every second of every day and I don’t care about being professional or being anything other than yours. I’m yours.”

You blinked a few times, astonished at the confession, lips slightly parted as you looked up at him. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. 

“You don’t have to feel the same way either, it won’t change anything. You’ll still be my mean, bossy, and obnoxious secretary tomorrow, and I’ll be your idiot boss that hates answering questions.”

That made you laugh, shaking your head and rolling your teary eyes. “If I’m being honest, I don’t want to be your secretary anymore—it’s not professional to be in love with your boss.”

He smiled at that, leaning into your space, connecting his lips with yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, and full of love. 

The next morning the sunlight streaming through your windows woke the both of you up, you rolled into his space, trying to bury your head on his chest, using an arm to block the sunlight. Your entire body was sore and your head was pounding.

“Morning, sunshine.” 

You blinked a few times, eyes widening at the realization that you were in bed with Bucky, the moment of shock easily wearing away at the memories of the night prior flooding in. Then you were picking your head up slightly, glancing at Bucky as he squinted, eyes adjusting to the bright light in the room before landing on you.

“I had a dream last night that would solve your professionalism debacle.” His voice was raspy and deep, it made you blush.

You nodded at him, “Okay, let’s hear it Buck.”

“You don’t need to be a Congressman’s secretary if you’re his wife.”

-

Thanks for reading sexies <3 as always feedback is appreciated!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　5 TIMES CHRIS AND Y/N WERE CAUGHT KISSING

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where a fan creates a 5-minute video with all the times that Chris and Y/N were caught kissing.

WARNING: Making-out.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Chris and Y/N sat side by side on the plush couch in the living room. They were half-watching a movie that had been playing for the past hour, but neither of them was truly invested. Chris's arm was draped lazily around Y/N's shoulders, his thumb drawing idle circles on her upper arm. It was one of those rare, peaceful evenings where they could just relax and enjoy each other's company, without the usual hustle and bustle of filming or the pressure of content creation hanging over Chris head.

Y/N was scrolling through her TikTok, a small smile playing on her lips as she came across fan edits and posts dedicated to Chris and his brothers. Her fingers stopped suddenly, her eyes widening as she stopped on a video with the caption: "Top 5 Times Chris and Y/N Were Caught Kissing in the Background." She let out a small laugh, nudging Chris's shoulder to get his attention.

"Baby, look at this." She muttered, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and shyness. She turned the phone screen towards him, and his brows shot up in surprise as he read the title.

"Are you serious?" He asked, a grin spreading across his face as he leaned closer to get a better view. "I didn't even know we were caught that many times."

Y/N pressed play, and the screen lit up with the fan edit.

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1. Baking Blind, Deaf and Mute. (Two Times)

The first clip was from a Baking Blind, Deaf, and Mute challenge, recorded when the triplets had visited their parents in Boston for their birthday.

The video opened with Nick standing in the foreground with Matt by his side, leaning casually on the marble table, his hands gesturing animatedly as he explained how that video would be with the participation of Y/N. His voice was filled with that signature mix of enthusiasm and sarcasm as usual.

As Nick continued to lay out the idea, the camera caught slightly Chris and Y/N in the background, standing by the fridge. Chris was holding a spatula in the air like a sword while staring at Y/N, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a playful grin tugged at his lips.

Next to him, Y/N was meticulously reading the ingredients list, ignoring his playful manner successfully, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to memorize the steps, fully aware that she wouldn’t be able to see anything in a few minutes.

The atmosphere was light and filled with anticipation, the kind that comes with knowing things were about to descend into playful chaos. Matt and Nick were already debating loudly over what constituted a valid ingredient while picking the necessary ones from the cabinets, their voices a blend of mock seriousness and barely-contained laughter.

But then, probably with the hope of being hidden behind his brothers' back, Chris leaned closer to Y/N, his shoulder brushing against hers. The gesture was subtle, almost as if he were seeking her out in the midst of the noise, a quiet connection just for them. Y/N looked up from the list, her eyes meeting his, and a soft laugh escaped her, the sound so gentle that the camera barely picked it up.

Listening to his favorite sound, Chris, with his eyes sparkling with mischief, turned fully toward Y/N. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear that drew another quiet laugh from her - just like his goal -, her smile wide and genuine, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Chris dipped his head and pressed a quick, tender kiss to her lips. It was brief, a mere brush of lips, but the affection behind it was palpable. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she ducked her head, pretending to be engrossed in the ingredients list once more, though the small, secretive smile playing at her lips betrayed her.

Meanwhile, Matt started trying to talk to the camera, his voice raised to make sure the viewers could hear him over Nick's teasing.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. DTI

The second clip was from a particularly memorable livestream that Matt and Chris had done from Matt’s room. They had recently started playing a game called Dress to Impress, and after recording a small video for their YouTube channel where they played the game for the first time, it quickly became their newest obsession.

Y/N had been hanging out in the room during the stream, perched comfortably on Nick's chair off-camera. Although she wasn’t actively participating in the game, her presence was felt in subtle ways; every now and then, a hand would appear on the edge of the screen, holding out a bottle of water, an energy drink or a bowl of snacks for the boys. Each time, Chris would glance away from the screen just long enough to offer her a grateful smile or a quick thank you before returning to the chaos on Matt's monitor.

On this particular moment, the livestream had taken an amusing turn. Matt was deeply engrossed in a competition against another player who had, to his disbelief, apparently copied his entire outfit design. His face was a mix of shock and indignation, his voice rising with every word as he expressed his frustration.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh loudly. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he listened to his brother’s angry words, his eyes focused on the screen.

It was in this moment that Y/N leaned forward, her face suddenly appearing in the corner of the camera. She moved quietly, almost as if she was sneaking up on Chris, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned in close to him, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered softly - something about 'knowing that Matt would win either way, since he - Chris - was the creative mind who helped creating the outfit'.

Chris’s reaction was immediate. The playful grin he had been wearing just moments before softened into something warmer, more affectionate. He turned his head slightly, meeting Y/N’s gaze with a look that was full of amusement. Without a second thought, he leaned in, catching her lips in a quick, sweet kiss. The kiss was fleeting, lasting only a second before Y/N pulled back, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she disappeared back into the background.

The moment was so brief that it could have easily gone unnoticed, especially with Matt’s voice still rising as he ranted about the blatant theft of his outfit. But their fans were nothing if not observant. The chat lit up almost instantly, viewers flooding the comments with a mixture of excitement and teasing.

Despite his attempts to play it cool, Chris couldn’t help the faint blush that crept up his cheeks. The tips of his ears turned pink as he tried to brush off the attention, focusing back on the game with a slightly embarrassed laugh.

"Alright, alright, focus on Matt, not me." He said, trying to redirect the conversation, though his smile never wavered.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Fortnite Late Night

The third clip captured a moment during one of Matt and Chris's late-night gaming streams, "Fortnite Late Night." Each brother was in his own bedroom, Chris’s camera angled perfectly to frame his upper body, revealing a glimpse of his bed in the background, the soft light from his monitor casting a cool, blue glow over the room.

Meanwhile, Y/N had been upstairs, finishing up in the kitchen. The quiet house amplified the sound of her soft footsteps as she went to the stairs, heading towards the room she shared with Chris.

When Y/N reached the end of the steps and stepped into their bedroom, she found Chris completely engrossed in the game. His posture was tense, shoulders slightly hunched forward, eyes fixed on the screen with an intense concentration. The dim lighting highlighted his features - his lips were slightly parted, pink and plump, forming a small, unintentional pout, and his dark brown eyebrows were knitted together in focus.

He didn’t notice her at first, his mind fully absorbed in the game, but Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked in his concentrated state.

She was ready to crawl into bed, exhausted from the day, but there was one thing she had to do before she could even think about sleep. It was a nightly ritual at this point. No matter how tired she was, Y/N couldn’t fall asleep without saying goodnight to Chris.

Moving with sleepy steps, she walked over to where he sat. Chris didn’t need to look up to know she was there; he could sense her presence. As she leaned over the back of his chair, he could feel the soft brush of her hair against his neck, a comforting sensation that made him momentarily forget about the game.

"Goodnight, honey." Y/N whispered softly, her voice low and gentle, meant only for his ears. But her words, though quiet, were picked up by his sensitive microphone, echoing faintly through the livestream, reaching the ears of the hundreds of fans watching.

Without hesitation, and without any regard for the live audience, Chris tilted his head back, silently asking for his goodnight kiss. It was an instinctual, almost automatic gesture. Y/N, smiling at his adorable demand, obliged him, leaning down to press her lips against his in a tender, familiar kiss.

The angle was a bit awkward, the kiss upside down, but it didn’t matter, it was soft and unhurried.

On the other end of the game, Matt was fully aware of what had just happened. The sudden silence from Chris’s side was enough of a giveaway, and when he glanced at the small preview screen showing Chris’s camera, he saw it all. Matt smirked but kept his eyes on the game, unfazed by the interruption - he had grown used to these moments.

"Dude." Matt finally spoke up after Y/N’s figure disappeared behind Chris’s back, his tone dripping with teasing exasperation. "Can’t you keep your PDA for when we’re not live?"

Chris didn’t even flinch. With a lazy grin spreading across his face, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic.

"Sorry, couldn’t help it." He replied, his voice light and carefree. The grin on his face said it all - he wasn’t sorry at all.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4. hello world

It had been a late-night gaming session - again -, one of those times when Chris and Matt were fully immersed in it, talking to fans while navigating through Dress to Impress. The energy in Chris’s room was electric, with his monitors casting a blue glow that bathed everything in a dim light. His headset was on, and he was deeply focused, his eyes glued to the screen.

But the concentration was constantly broken by Chris’s rumbling stomach and the string of complaints that followed.

"Ugh, I’m so hungry." He groaned into the mic, making a face. "Seriously, I could eat a whole pizza right now."

Matt laughed on the other end of the line, his voice crackling through the headphones.

"Dude, we just had dinner like three hours ago."

"Yeah, and?" Chris shot back, pausing for a second to take a sip of his energy drink. "That was hours ago. I’m starving. Hey chat, send food!" He laughed at his own joke, glancing over at the live comments.

Little did Chris know, Y/N was watching the livestream from the living room. She’d been lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone, when she heard his complaints. A smile spread across her face as an idea formed in her mind. She knew Chris’s favorite takeout place just down the street and decided to surprise him.

She slipped on a pair of sneakers, grabbed her keys, and headed out. The whole trip took barely fifteen minutes. When she returned, the aroma of Chris’s favorite meal wafted through the bag she was carrying, and she made her way quietly up the stairs to their room.

Chris was still completely absorbed in his game, his back to the door. He didn’t notice when she slipped in, the door clicking softly behind her. Y/N could hear him talking to his brother, still complaining about his hunger, completely oblivious to her presence.

She smiled to herself, holding back a giggle as she crept closer. She set the bag down on his desk next to his keyboard, the movement catching his attention. Chris looked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Y/N standing there, holding out the takeout bag with a grin.

"Hey." She whispered, leaning in close so the mic wouldn’t pick up her voice - unsuccessfully. "I heard you were hungry."

Chris’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He pulled off his headset, letting it hang around his neck, and stretched out his arms to catch the bag from her.

"Oh my God, you’re the best." He said, his voice low and filled with genuine affection. He opened the bag, inhaling deeply, and let out a content sigh. "You got my favorite!"

Y/N nodded, her smile growing wider.

"I know you too well."

Without another word, Chris set the bag down and reached out, pulling Y/N into his arms, forcing her to bent her upper body. He didn’t care that the stream was still going or that his brother and the fans were waiting. In that moment, all he could think about was how thoughtful and sweet she was. He tilted his head up, capturing her lips in a deep, grateful kiss.

Y/N kissed him back, her hands resting on his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sweatpants.

It wasn’t until they broke apart that Chris remembered they were still live. He glanced over at his screen, the chat scrolling so fast it was a blur, and he could see the comments exploding.

Chris laughed, picking up his headset and sliding it back on.

"Sorry, guys." He said into the mic, a huge grin on his face. "Got a little distracted there. Y/N just brought me food, so, uh, I’m gonna eat while we keep playing."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

5. We became dad's for 24 hours!!! (to eggs)

The last clip was one of a quiet, intimate moment captured during one of the boys' more absurd challenges: taking care of an egg as if it were their own child for 24 hours.

It was the middle of the early morning, the clock barely ticking past 3 AM, when the sound of three simultaneous alarms pierced the stillness of the house. The sharp, grating beeps echoed through the rooms, signaling that it was time for them to wake up and "feed" their eggs.

The absurdity of the situation was only amplified by the ungodly hour, the boys' groggy voices muttering incoherently as they stumbled around, trying to remember where they had left their fragile "children".

Y/N, who had been curled up in bed, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep, found herself jolted awake by the noise. Her eyelids were heavy, barely lifting as she pushed herself up from the bed.

Dressed in one of Chris's oversized T-shirt that hung loosely over her frame and a pair of soft pajama shorts, she looked the very picture of someone who had been dragged from sleep far too early. Her hair was tousled, a wild halo around her face, and her eyes were half-closed as she shuffled out of the room.

She used the commotion as an excuse to get a drink of water, her feet moving on autopilot as she padded quietly into the kitchen. The house was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of the moon filtering through the big window and the faint blue light of the fridge as she pulled it open.

The boys’ sleepy voices floated to her from the living room, muffled but distinct, each of them trying to outdo the other in their groggy banter about their "kids".

Chris was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, his body sinking into the cushions, looking cozy yet disheveled. His legs were stretched out, feet propped up on the coffee table, and his head was tilted back, his eyes blinking slowly as he tried to stay awake. He was mumbling something about the challenge, his words barely coherent.

Y/N, still in her sleepy haze, wandered toward them, her footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. The coolness of the water bottle in her hand provided a small comfort as she made her way toward Chris, passing by Matt’s legs, narrowly avoiding his outstretched foot, and maneuvered around the coffee table until she stood in front of her boyfriend.

Chris’s gaze followed her movements, his tired eyes lighting up slightly as he watched her approach. His arms opened wide, almost instinctively, inviting her into his embrace without needing to say a word. There was a small, sleepy smile on his lips, one that matched the one Y/N gave him as she stepped closer. The moment was quiet, almost dreamlike, the world around them fading into the background as she climbed over his legs and nestled into his lap.

She settled herself against him, her legs folded up on the couch as her body molded against his. The right side of her body pressed against his chest, and she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her. Her head found its place on his shoulder, her nose nuzzling gently against the exposed skin of his neck.

Chris’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, causing Y/N to smile against his neck, feeling the warmth of his breath on her skin, and she tilted her head back just enough to look up at him.

Almost automatically, Chris leaned down again, their lips meeting in a soft, lazy kiss. It was gentle, a mere brush of lips, but it was enough to make Y/N’s heart flutter.

When they pulled back, Y/N let out a small sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she nestled back into the curve of his neck. Chris held her close, his hand resting on her back, his thumb stroking gently up and down in a soothing rhythm, letting his brothers finish what they wanted to say before going to bed again.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The video ended, and Y/N hit pause before it replayed again by itself, looking up at Chris, who was leaning back with a satisfied smile.

"Wow." She started, dragging out the word. "Look at you, Mister Romantic."

Chris shrugged, unabashed.

"What can I say? When you've got a girlfriend as amazing as you, you just... can't help yourself."

Y/N, sitting up and adjusting her position, rolled her eyes but smiled, her cheeks tinged pink.

"You’re such a dork." She muttered, but there was affection in her voice.

"And you love it." Chris shot back, leaning down, pressing a kiss to her temple, and Y/N couldn't help but smile, leaning into his touch.

"I really do."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"this compilation was the perfect one to prove what the boys said about chris being the only one who would make-out with his girlfriend in front of everyone 😭"

"stop, the way chris looks at Y/N in every clip???? ugh, I NEED this 😩"

"forget the baking, chris and Y/N's little kiss right there? too cute omg"

"okay but that livestream moment when Y/N brings chris food 😭 she's so thoughtful and caring ;(("

"chris and Y/N in the background just being all lovey-dovey while matt and nick are doing their thing is EVERYTHING!!! they’re so in love it hurts 🥺"

"honestly, I’m all here for how they’re always caught kissing like they forget the cameras are on 😞"

"chris couldn't even focus on the game anymore after Y/N kissed him LMAOOO, he's down bad, guys"

"STOP IT RIGHT NOW!! Y/N laying on chris lap while they do their thing with their eggs omg 🤧🤧 they're so precious"

[hanniebaeee]

Hold My Hand

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing much!

Genre: classmates to lovers, fluff

Summary: Your life was a straight line. Graduate top of your class. Marry Minho. Take over your family business. But then there's Han Jisung - the sweet geeky genius, who has completely stolen your heart.

a/n: Needs another round of editing which I'll do soon.

Bonus

You were terrible at this. Numbers? Fine. Business strategy? More than fine. But Python? It might as well have been ancient hieroglyphs. You sighed, trying to remain calm even though all you wanted to do was scream.

Your life was a straight line - graduate top of your class (questionable, considering you may or may not fail your coding class), marry Minho (your father’s friend’s son and your closest friend - because your fathers promised you to each other) and take over your family business. It was a plan carved in marble. No deviations allowed.

But then there was him. Han Jisung. The scholarship guy from a world that was exactly opposite to yours - completely chaotic. He was all messy hair, glasses slipping down his nose, and thrifted hoodies, making your pulse raise for reasons unknown to you.

You weren't supposed to want someone like Jisung. He wasn't part of the plan. But yet, seeing him stumble into the library with his laptop in hand, your traitorous heart stuttered shamelessly. Exactly like how it had, when he lent you a pen during the first week of class, during an emergency pen situation.

You tried to focus on your screen, but your eyes betrayed you, watching as he looked around for somewhere to sit.

Get it together, you scolded yourself.

But Jisung had noticed you, and it was like watching a cartoon character short-circuit. His eyes widened, his foot caught on a chair, and he nearly faceplanted into a table.

“Oh, uh…h-hey, Y/N!” he stammered, pushing his glasses up with a shaky finger.

His voice cracked, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. He was such a mess, and it was so unfairly hot.

“Hi, Jisung,” you said, your tone cool and measured, though your heart was doing cartwheels.

You crossed your legs under the table, hoping he didn’t notice how your hands were trembling. Well, he wouldn't, since he just stood there, frozen. His hands clutched his laptop like a lifeline.

“You, uh, working on the coding assignment? The one due Friday?” His voice was too loud for the library, and a nearby student shushed him.

He winced, mouthing a silent 'sorry', before taking the seat next to you.

“Yes,” you said, glancing at your screen. “It’s… challenging.”

“Challenging?” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s one way to put it. Um, do you need help? With the coding, I mean! Not that you’re bad at it! You’re probably great! I just…uh…”

He was spiraling, and it was absolutely adorable.

You tilted your head, considering. This was a bad idea. Getting close to Jisung was like playing with fire when your life was already a perfectly curated museum exhibit. But your assignment was due in three days, and you were drowning.

“If you’re offering,” you said carefully, “I wouldn’t mind some assistance.”

His eyes went wide, like you just handed him the keys to a Ferrari.

“Really? Okay, cool, cool, I can do that. Totally chill.” He was not chill.

He vibrated with nervous energy as he dropped his laptop on the table and slid his chair closer to you.

Too close. His knee brushed yours under the table, and you both froze. He quickly jerked his leg back, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, oh god -,” while you stared at your laptop, trying to ignore the electric jolt that shot through you.

“It’s fine,” you said, pointing at the screen. “I don’t understand why my code keeps crashing.”

Jisung leaned in, squinting at your laptop. His arm brushed yours, and you caught the faint scent of his shampoo - something citrusy, that shouldn’t be this sexy, but was. He was muttering about syntax errors and missing semicolons, but you were barely listening, too distracted by the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“See, here’s the problem,” he said, pointing at a line of code.

His glasses slipped down again, and he pushed them up with a pout. His fingers flew over your keyboard as he fixed the error like it was nothing, and you were mesmerized by how confident he was when he was in his element.

This was a different Jisung - not the flustered mess he was a second ago, but a geeky genius.

He finished typing and turned to you, grinning.

“Try running it now,” he said.

You hit the execute button, and - miracle of miracles - it worked.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, genuinely impressed. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Jisung beamed, but before he could say something, another voice boomed through the silent room, disturbing its peace.

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your head snapped up as Minho walked over with his designer coat and smug grin.

“Didn’t expect to see you slumming it in the library.”

Jisung shrank back into his chair, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. You sat up straighter, slipping back into your polished persona.

“Minho,” you said coolly. “I was studying.”

Minho’s eyes flicked to Jisung, and he smirked.

“With him? What, you are hiring tutors from the thrift store now?” he asked, but there was no real bite in his words. Minho was always joking around, and that was just his nature.

Jisung’s face flamed, but he muttered, “At least I don’t need daddy’s money to pass my classes.”

Minho’s smirk faltered, and you bit back a laugh.

“Enough,” you said, standing. “Jisung was helping me with an assignment. But we're done here.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being dismissed.

“Whatever. Let's get going. We have to be at the dinner party in 2 hours, babe.” he said, waiting for you to gather your things, while his eyes lingered on Jisung.

Jisung stared at the table, picking at the edge of his laptop looking like a kicked puppy.

You hated these business parties that your father forced you to attend. But you had to play your part to perfection - Y/N, the poised heiress, future CEO. Your arm looped through Minho’s as he navigated the crowd, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly.

He was all charm tonight, flashing his sharp grin, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You’ve kind of known since you were teenagers that he would most probably be your future husband - the final piece of your carefully curated life.

But tonight, it felt so off. Your mind kept drifting to Jisung and his nervous laugh. And you were mentally preparing yourself to talk to Minho. To ask him that one question that has been haunting you for more than a year now.

You two have been friends since forever. But this friendship has been nothing but a friendship from then. The most platonic one ever. Even after your parents casually mentioned that you'd marry Minho one day - there was literally no spark between you two.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Minho murmured, leaning in.

His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your gown.

“What’s got you so distracted?”

You forced a smile, tilting your head to meet his gaze, which was playful, but there was an edge to it, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It's nothing,” You lied quickly and Minho hummed, a frown taking over his face.

He stepped closer, his chest brushing yours as he maneuvered you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

“What is it?” he asked again, his hand still resting on your waist.

You were used to this - Minho has always been handsy, and you’ve let him get away with it before, chalking it up to familiarity, to the inevitability of your future together. Even though you two weren't actually together. Or engaged. Just stuck in the purgatory of the in-between situation. Unwilling to say the least.

But tonight, his touch felt… wrong. Like it was trespassing on something that didn’t belong to him anymore.

But before you had to act on it, your phone buzzed in your purse, the vibration cutting through the tension. You jumped back, breaking his hold, and fished it out. The screen flashed ‘Mom’, and your heart leapt with relief. Perfect timing.

“I need to take this,” you said, already turning away.

Minho’s expression clouded, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue.

“Sorry, it’s urgent. I’ll find you later.” you said, scurrying away to a safe distance.

And that's when you knew - you were screwed. Absolutely, royally screwed.

You didn’t plan to end up here. Parties weren't your scene - too loud, too messy, too uncontrolled. But your roommate dragged you along, insisting you needed to “live a little” before the stress of midterms (and an impending engagement) crushed you.

So here you were, in a simple black top and jeans, sipping a beer in a corner, trying to blend into the wallpaper. Your parents would have a heart attack if they saw you here, but for once, you weren't thinking about them. Or Minho. Or the way his face fell when you ran away.

But then you see him. Jisung. He was across the room, looking like he wandered into the wrong universe.

He was clutching a beer as talked to some guy - probably one of his nerdy Comp Sci friends - his free hand gesturing wildly as he spoke. Your heart did a stupid little flip, and you hated it.

But then his eyes caught yours, and it was like the room shrank two sizes. His smile faltered and his cheeks flushed as you raised your beer in a half-hearted greeting, and he grinned, all lopsided and shy, before making his way over.

“Y/N?” he said, like he’s shocked you’re real. “What are you doing here?”

“Needed a break. What’s your excuse?” you said, moving over to make room for him to sit.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, free beer?” He held up his drink, sloshing a bit onto his sneakers. “Oops. Shit. Pretend you didn’t see that.”

“Too late,” you teased, and he groaned, his blush deepening.

He was so himself - clumsy and sweet - and it was doing things to you. Dangerous things.

And just like that you both get into a conversation. And your cups are empty at some point. So naturally, you followed him into the kitchen, where you found a cooler stuffed with beers. You both grabbed one, popping the caps with a bottle opener someone had tied to the fridge. You leaned against the counter, and Jisung mirrored you, his shoulder brushing yours.

As you looked over at him with a soft smile on your face, and he did the same, you couldn't help but realize that you've never felt this way before. No one has ever made your heart flutter like Jisung did.

The night blurred, and one beer turned into two, then three, and soon you were both tipsy, laughing too loud at Jisung’s dumb impressions of your Comp Sci professor.

Jisung was more at ease now, his nerves dulled by alcohol, and you were not much better, your usual prim-and-proper filter slipping. You were close - too close - your knees bumping as you talked, your hand grazing his when you reached for another drink. Every touch felt like a match struck against your skin.

“God, you’re so cool,” Jisung slurred, leaning closer, his glasses fogging slightly. “Like, you’re all fancy and perfect, but you’re here, drinking shitty beer with me. It’s unreal.”

You laughed, shaking your head lightly.

“I’m not perfect, Jisung. Trust me.” you said, the words hitting even though you're drunk.

“You are,” he insisted, his voice soft, earnest. “You’re, like… you. I can’t explain it.”

Your cheeks burned as you said, “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

He gasped, clutching his chest.

“Are you flirting with me, Y/N?” He asked, and it’s so cheesy you burst out laughing, but god, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to grab his stupid hoodie and pull him close until there was no space left between you.

Until you realize that you were sitting so close. So close that you were literally half on his lap. You didn’t know how you got there - maybe you tripped, maybe he pulled you, maybe the beer made you bold. Jisung’s hands hovered over your shoulders, like he was scared to touch you, his face flushed crimson under the fairy lights.

“Y/N,” he whispered, voice shaky, “is this-”

You didn't say anything. Just rested your head on his shoulder, your lips brushing the soft skin of his neck (accidentally, to be honest). He smelled like cheap cologne and something uniquely him, and it drove you wild. Your lips lingered, and you felt him tense beside. A soft whimper escaped him, barely audible, and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You pressed closer, and he actually moaned, his hands finally settling on around your shoulder, gripping you tightly, like he was afraid you'd disappear.

You were drunk and dizzy, but at that very moment, you knew it - you were in love with Han Jisung. You didn't just want him or just crave - you loved him and his clumsy charm and geeky rants and his heart so big it spilled out of him.

But then, there was something gnawing at you from the inside. A sharp stab of realization that this was just so unfortunate. Because you were promised to someone else. Like a damn object. And it was so unfair.

Reality crashed in, cold and brutal. Minho, your almost-fiancé.

You froze, pulling back with a jerk, and Jisung gave you a confused look.

“Y/N?” he said, voice small, like he was scared he did something wrong.

“I…I can’t,” you stammered, sliding off the couch, away from his warmth, your heart pounding. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I… I have to go.”

His face fell, and it was like a knife to your chest. “Did I-?”

“No,” you said quickly, grabbing his hand. “It’s not you. It’s… complicated.”

You couldn’t explain it, not here, not now, not when you were still buzzing with alcohol and guilt and want. You squeezed his hand, then let go, standing on shaky legs.

“Y/N, wait -” he started, but you’re already moving, weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You didn’t look back. You couldn't. If you saw his face, you’d break, and you were already too close to shattering.

---

You stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting you like a slap. You leaned against a tree, catching your breath, and wiped at your eyes. A sob spilled from your lips, and at that exact moment, you heard Minho’s sharp voice, cutting through the haze like a blade.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Minho was striding toward you, his usual smug confidence replaced with something harder.

It looked a lot like annoyance, maybe, or something deeper. He stopped a few feet away, taking in your disheveled state - your flushed cheeks, the way you were clutching your arms like you’re holding yourself together.

“You’re wasted. What are you doing out here looking like… this?” he snapped and you bristled, straightening up despite the wobble in your legs.

“I’m fine,” you snapped back, though your slurred words betrayed you. “Just needed air.”

“Air?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned you. “You look like you just stumbled out of a bar fight. This isn’t you, Y/N. Getting drunk at some shitty party? What’s gotten into you?”

His tone - condescending, scolding - lights a fuse you didn’t know was burning. You were so fucking tired of it. The expectations, the control, the way everyone assumed that they could dictate your life.

Jisung’s face flashed in your mind - his soft shy smile and his hurt face from a few minutes ago, and it was like a dam breaking inside you. You pushed off the wall, swaying slightly, and pointed a finger at him.

“Tell me this, Minho. Why do you want to marry me?”

He froze, his expression shifting from annoyance to incredulity.

“What?” He laughed, short and disbelieving, like you just asked him why the sky was blue. “What’s the matter with you? You’re drunk and talking nonsense.”

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice rising, unsteady but fierce.

You took a step closer, your eyes locked with his.

“Why do you want to marry me? Because our parents decided it? Because it’s good for business? Tell me, Minho. Why?”

He faltered, his smirk slipping, and for the first time, you saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it, like he was searching for the right words and coming up empty.

“Y/N, come on,” he said finally, his voice softer. “You know why. We’re good together. We make sense. Our families -”

“That’s not an answer!” you cut him off, your hands balling into fists.

The alcohol made you bold, reckless, and you couldn't stop now.

“I don’t want to be a puppet, Minho. I don’t want to be some trophy wife you control, some box you check off for your perfect life. I’m not a thing you get to own.” you cried, and his face crumpled as the tears flowed freely down yours.

He stepped closer, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You think I see you like that? A puppet? Y/N, I -” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his composure cracking. “I’ve known you forever. I thought… I thought you wanted this too.”

His words hit harder than you expected, a pang of guilt slicing through your anger. For a moment, you saw the Minho you grew up with. The one who snuck you extra dessert at boring dinners, who teased you but never let anyone else cross you.

But it wasn't enough. Not when your heart was screaming for someone else. And it hurt more because you'd promised yourself to quietly go ahead with the engagement and the wedding if Minho told you that he loved you. You obviously would have, considering the fact that you've known him your whole life, and you would never break his heart. But now, you wanted to scream.

“It’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s not fair that I don’t get a say. I don’t want this, Minho. I don’t -”

The words spilled out before you could stop them - sharp and final, and you saw the hurt flash across his face, his eyes widening like you’ve slapped him.

“Y/N…” he was reaching for you, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

You turned and ran, stumbling toward the street. You heard him call your name, his voice raw, but you didn’t look back. The party’s noise faded, replaced by the thud of your pulse and the burn of your tears.

You hated this. Hated yourself, hated the stupid plan that chained you to a life you don’t want.

The morning came with a headache that was literally tearing your head apart. And the weight of last night’s drunken outburst crushed you.

What was worse, Minho didn’t show up to class, and it was unheard of for someone as annoyingly perfect as he was. You panicked all through the day, and felt too scared to text or call him.

The memory of his hurt expression, the way you ran off after shredding your almost-engagement, kept replaying like a bad movie in your brain. So, here you were, standing outside his door with a peace offering: his favorite black forest cake from that overpriced bakery he loved and a large iced Americano, just how he liked it.

You knocked with your heart in your throat, half-expecting him to slam the door in your face. But when he opened it, you almost dropped the cake. Minho’s usually sharp eyes were dull, his hair was a mess. And he was in a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, like he hadn't slept at all. It totally broke your heart because you've never seen him like this and you had no one but yourself to blame for this.

He sighed, long and heavy, when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said, voice flat, but his gaze flicks to the cake and coffee.

He stepped aside, taking the offerings without a word, and let you in. No snarky comment, no smirk. Just silence. That was scarier than any lecture he could’ve given you.

You hovered by the door as he shuffled to his bed, flopping onto it with the cake box and coffee in hand (picking up a fork from the little kitchen on his way). He popped open the box and started eating, not even looking at you.

The silence was deafening, and you felt like an idiot, standing there like a statue in your pristine sweater and skirt.

He finally glanced up, mid-bite, and raised an eyebrow.

“You coming in to share this or are you leaving?” His voice was tired, like he’s too drained to care.

You hesitated, then nodded, kicking off your shoes and climbing onto his bed, and cuddling up beside him like you always did. The familiarity of being in his space made your throat tight.

You curled up closer, tucking your legs under you, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Minho.”

He didn’t say anything, just took another bite of cake, the fork scraping softly against the box. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until he set the cake on his lap and looked at you, his eyes searching.

“Who is it?” he asked quietly, no venom, just curiosity tinged with something resigned. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You froze, your heart slamming against your ribs. You weren’t ready for this. Not now, not here, not with him looking at you like he already knew the answer and just needed to hear it.

“I…” you started, but the words stuck, your mouth dry.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Y/N. I have known you from when we were in diapers. I know this isn't some random impulsive thing. Who’s got you throwing away our whole… whatever this is?”

His voice was steady, but there was a crack in it, a hint of the hurt you saw last night.

You swallowed, your hands trembling in your lap. If there was one thing you could never do, that would be lying to Minho. So you just told him the truth.

“Han Jisung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho blinked, then leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, he was silent, and you were bracing for anger, for a fight. Or tears even. But then he started laughing. A loud, almost manic laugh that filled the room, like he was possessed.

You scowled, offended. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he gasped, wiping his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at you, still chuckling, and shook his head.

“Really? Geeky is your thing? Han Jisung? The guy who trips over his own backpack and talks to his laptop like it’s his girlfriend?” he laughed and you huffed, shoving him.

“Shut up! He’s not like that!” you argued.

Okay, maybe he was, but it’s cute, and Minho's laugh pissed you off. You cross your arms, sulking.

“He’s… he’s sweet. And smart. And -”

“Okay, okay,” Minho said, holding up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “I get it. You’re into the hot loser vibe. No judgment.”

His smile faded, and he leaned forward, his expression softening.

“It's a relief you left me for love and not for someone richer. So…there’s no use of me fighting him, is there? You’re set on Jisung?” he said, and you nodded, your throat tight.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

He exhaled, long and slow, and looked down at the cake, poking at it with the fork.

“Have you told him?” He asked.

“No.” You said, sighing. “Not without talking to you first.”

“Ok.”

“I’m so sorry, Minho,” you said, reaching for his hand, squeezing it, desperate for him to understand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I can’t keep pretending this is what I want. It’s not fair to you either.”

He looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the Minho who has been your closest friend for years.

“It’s okay,” he says finally, his voice soft. “Thanks for being honest.”

You didn’t know what possessed you - guilt, affection, the need to hold onto something familiar, because you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed, his arms looping around you tight. You buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of his cologne grounding you even as your heart aches.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your chest. “Babe, are you breaking up with me or trying to start something here? Mixed signals much?”

You pulled back, flustered, and shoved him lightly.

“Minho!” you squeaked, your face burning hot.

He laughed again, softer this time, and ruffled your hair, the gesture so familiar it hurt.

“You’re a mess, Y/N,” he said, but there was no malice in it, just sad fondness. “Go figure your shit out with Jisung. But if he breaks your heart, I’m not buying you cake to cry over him.”

---

The days that followed your break up (can you even call it that), your mother has been driving you up the wall with her dramatic crying and angry screeching and lectures.

It had become a daily ritual. Waking up to her scolding you and threatening to disown you. And then begging you to get back together with Minho. When you tell her you were never actually together in the first place, she flipped again. And it was all a loop.

You were not sorry for choosing yourself, for wanting Jisung, but the weight of your family’s disappointment was suffocating.

You spent the mornings venting, Minho listening and cracking jokes to lighten your mood. It was funny how much better your relationship with Minho was, now that you two were just friends. In the evening, he would order takeout, and you would end up cross-legged on his floor, eating dumplings and laughing at his stupid jokes.

It was the only thing helping you forget about your mother, the company, and the mess you’ve made.

---

But across campus, Jisung wasn't laughing. In fact Jisung was a walking tragedy, and he was leaning into it hard. In the days since the party, he had transformed into a melodramatic shadow of himself, moping around campus in his heartbreak.

He was in your shared Comp Sci class, slouched in the back row, his hoodie pulled up and completely heart broken. He had watched you leave the party in tears and arguing with Minho. And now he has been seeing you and Minho together, walking across the quad, you leaning into Minho’s side, lost in conversation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

To Jisung, it looked like you were something, like the party was a drunken mistake, and it’s eating him alive.

He was quiet in class, not his usual fidgety, joke-cracking self. When you tried to catch his eye, he ducked his head, pretending to focus on his laptop. You wanted to talk to him, to explain, but every time you got close, your nerves betrayed you.

What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he thought you were just some rich girl playing with his feelings?

The jealousy festered over the next few days. Jisung saw you and Minho at the campus coffee shop, your head on Minho’s shoulder as he scrolled through his phone.

He slumped over his tray, poking at a sad pile of fries, muttering to his roommate, “What’s the point of life when you’re just the guy who gets kissed and ditched?”

His roommate sighed, used to the theatrics, and slid him a soda, but Jisung just stared at it like it betrayed him too.

Then he saw Minho sling an arm around you at the library. This was proof enough for Jisung - you were Minho’s, always have been, and whatever happened at the party was a fluke.

His chest ached with it, a mix of longing and hurt that he buried under late-night coding sessions and too-loud music.

You noticed Jisung pulling away - if ever you caught his attention, his smiles were forced, his eyes avoiding yours. It hurt more than you expected, especially after the party, when you felt so sure he wanted you too. You were so in love with him, but the chaos with your family and Minho’s constant presence made it impossible to bridge the gap.

---

You’ve been psyching yourself up for this all day. Your mother’s morning tirade still rang in your ears - another lecture about ruining the family legacy by ditching Minho. But you were done letting her control you. You were here for Jisung, to clear the air, to tell him how you felt.

You knocked on his door, clutching your bag like a shield. When Jisung opened it, he looked like he'd been through a war with his own brain. He froze, one hand gripping the doorknob.

“Y/N?” he said. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

But he stepped back, letting you in. You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and the air felt charged, like you were both standing on the edge of something big.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to sound calm, but your voice wavered. “About the party. And… other stuff.”

Jisung’s face paled, then flushed red, and he started pacing, his hands flailing.

“The party? Oh, you mean the party where you…where you kissed my neck?” He pointed dramatically to the spot on his neck, where your lips had been, his finger jabbing like he was marking a crime scene. “Right here, Y/N! You did that, and I was, like, losing my mind, and then you just bolted! And now you’re, what, playing house with Minho? I see you two everywhere! Laughing, cuddling, sharing coffee like you’re married or something! What am I supposed to think? That I’m just some drunk mistake you made for fun?”

His words spilled out in a torrent, his voice rising with every sentence, and he wasn’t even looking at you now, just ranting to the air, gesturing wildly.

“I mean, I’m not an idiot, okay? I know I’m not, like, Minho. He’s all cool and rich, but I thought - god, I thought maybe you liked me, you know? Because you kissed me! Here!” He pointed to his neck again, his cheeks flaming. “And now you’re back with him, and I’m just the nerd who got too excited over nothing, and -”

“Jisung!” you tried to cut in, but he was on a roll, pacing faster, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“- and it’s fine, really, I get it! You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re not even in the same universe, but it hurt, Y/N, because I’ve been crushing on you since, like, the first day of class when you asked me for a pen, and I gave you my favorite one, and you never gave it back, by the way, but that’s not the point! The point is, you can’t just go around kissing people’s necks and then -”

You couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn't shutting up, and every word was like a knife, twisting your guilt and frustration tighter. So you did the only thing you could think of - you grabbed the front of his T-shirt, and kissed him.

It wasn't not gentle. It was desperate and messy, your lips crashing against his to silence his rant. Jisung froze, his hands hovering mid-gesture, and for a second, you thought you'd broken him. Then he melted, a soft, surprised whimper escaping his throat as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’ll vanish. His lips were warm, a little chapped, but absolutely perfect. Your heart pounded, hands sliding up to cup his face, and you poured everything into the kiss - every apology, every feeling you’ve been too scared to say.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were panting, and his eyes wide, like he’s just seen a miracle.

“W-what… what was that?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You were still catching your breath, your forehead resting against his.

“That,” you said, “was me shutting you up because you wouldn’t listen.”

You stepped back slightly, but kept your hands on his shoulders, grounding yourself.

“Jisung, I’m not with Minho. We’re not together. We never really were…not like that. It was… arranged, by our parents, and I broke it off. He’s just my friend now. A really good one, but that’s it.” you said, and Jisung blinked, processing, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Wait, so… you’re not… with him?” His voice was small, hopeful, but still wary.

“No,” you said firmly, your thumb brushing his cheek, and he leans into it, almost unconsciously. “I’m not. I broke it off with him, because I love you, Jisung. A lot. And I’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep avoiding me, and I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same -”

“Feel the same?” he interrupted, his voice rising again, but this time it was laced with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since you stole my pen! I was losing my mind at that party, thinking you’d just…ugh, I’m such an idiot!”

He groaned, tipping his head back, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. You laughed, the sound shaky with relief, and leaned into him, your arms looping around his neck.

“You’re not an idiot. Well, maybe a little. But a cute one.” You bit your lip, your heart racing. “So… you like me too, then?”

He stared at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Like you? Y/N, I’m obsessed with you. My roommate’s ready to kick me out because I won’t shut up about you,”

He cut himself off, blushing furiously, and you couldn’t help it - you kissed him again, softer this time, but just as needy.

He moaned into it, a low, soft sound that sent heat curling through you, and you’re both stumbling back until you hit his bed, collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs. His hands roamed your back, and the kiss deepened, all tongue and need, until you’re both gasping.

“Okay,” he panted, “so we’re… we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,”

“For real?”

“For real.”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

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love the fact that squirrel girl and all her friends are just at the meeting in one world under doom somehow, I like to think this is how they were invited (ignore the weird formatting errors, I’m too tired to fight my editing software atm)