#so keep using that word if it makes you happy

[npookie0]

Rap Your Way To His Soul

In a world where hunters fight demons every day and try to keep the Honmoon strong with their songs, you are a demon different than any other - instead of stealing souls and working for Gwi Ma, you are a niche soloist rapper who found another way to not die from starvation and block his voice. One day, the world shifts and a new boys band appears our of thin air, a demon boy band. You tried to keep away from the conflict between Huntrix and the Saja Boys, until one day you've been paired with the boys band's rapper who discovered your secret. "But Gwi Ma never mentioned another demon being on surface…?" "Yeah? Well he never said that he'd build a boys band either."

Words: [ 2954 ]

Tropes: forced proximity, you help him discover something about himself

cws: scenes of fighting, spoilers for Kpop Demon Hunters

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So I'll give you a heads up for my idea about Baby's personality before you read it! To me Baby is a unbothered king basically, he doesn't really care (his face when they're at the signing with Huntrix) but he can also be a cunning bastard when he needs to be (Your Idol rap moment the faces he makes there, the way he's smirking at Huntrix when Saja Boys takes their leave) but since his band archetype is being the baby of the group (his name is literally Baby) so I will assume that he's the Maknae and is the youngest so he will also be childish in a way, please accept my interpretation of that guy

You were a niche rapper in the Korean music industry, sometimes you were invited to some variety shows, either doing some rap challenges, do things that were supposed to bring entertained to the viewer like trying to sing a popular song that didn't include any rap, or, rarely, had an opportunity to talk about yourself.

You enjoyed these moments, interacting with your fans, performing for them, even if there weren't that many people you were still excited to give them a chance to see you again and grow a bigger audience.

Even a demon like yourself was weak to the charm of happy fans.

Though, you would hardly call yourself a demon. Besides the patterns and abilities you used for special effects you weren't that demonic. Not after you found yourself on the surface at least.

At first, you were like any other demon, trying to devour human souls, you heard Gwi Ma, you felt shame and misery. Yet, after finding your love for music everything changed, you started your small rapper career, gained fans and most importantly of all, got your soul back. Thanks to regaining your soul you were able to stop feeding off the energy stealing souls gave you, instead you got energy from your fans singing your songs with you.

You knew about Huntrix and their identity as demon hunters so you avoided them at all costs, you didn't want to fight them and lose the life you built for yourself. Every time you were invited to an event for idols, no matter how tempted you were to go, if you knew that Huntrix would be there too you would make up an excuse to not go and politely refused the introductions.

Other than Huntrix, you didn't follow any news from the high ranked pop groups, so you were unaware of the Saja Boys blow up and their rivalry with the three hunters, to you they were a boys band that you didn't really care about.

So meeting one of them on a variety show was a surprise to say the least. Especially after you saw what he was.

But, let's start from the beginning.

You got a call from Play Games With Us, they invited you to take part in a new game they came up with "Rapper Wars", since you are a soloist rapper yourself you accepted their invitation.

"Hi Y/n! It's good to see you after so long!" The host greeted you when you entered the stage. Your fans screamed and clapped when they saw you, chanting your name.

"Hi everybody! It's good to see y'all after so long!" You replied, waving at your fans.

The TV crew fixed up your and a few others rappers' make up, while that was happening you looked around the stage. You knew all the rappers present there, with some you even made songs together.

You know all of them, except one. A guy with teal hair, wearing a pink baggy sweater, yellow beanie, skinny jeans and sneakers. He had a lollipop in his mouth, he had a thoughtless expression, like he didn't really care about being there. But where the lights turned on he suddenly became all sweet, sending hearts to the camera and smiling.

Sure, a lot of idols have two personas, that wasn't a shocker, but at least they pretended to be nice and sweet if the cameras were off too.

"Hello, hello! We hope you're excited because today we have prepared a special game for everyone!" Said one of the hosts.

The other host chimed in with a big beaming smile. "The game is "Rapper Wars!" But our favourite handsome host, what is the game about? You all are probably asking yourself and don't worry, we will explain it now!"

"Yes, yes, yes. Explanation time! So, as you guys can see we have all our favourite rappers; Chaeyoung from Twice..." The host introduced each guests, while camera pointed at them to smile and wave. "And finally we have our newest rap stage star, Baby Saja from Saja Boys and our beloved soloist Y/n!"

Baby? That's an.... interesting name....

"So, in our game these talented artists will make teams of two and will have to perform together, the duo who wins with all other contestants will perform a song they have to write together in the next episode of Play Games With Us!"

After some more explanation everyone started to pair up and soon you and the guy from Saja Boys were the only people left. You made your way over to him and outstretched your hand to him.

"Guess that we'll work together now." You said with a gentle smile. You had no reason to not like him so you could be friendly.

He looked at your hand and then at your face, he squeezed your hand. "Yeah." Was his only response. Well that was definitely a start.

You two were asked to sit down in one of the "rap thinking zone" areas that the hosts prepared for all of you.

When you two sat down you took a closer look at Baby and noticed a weird shift on his skin, you focused on his neck and then you saw them; the patterns.

The same patters you had. That guy's weird behaviour and name made sense now, he's a demon. But why would a demon be in a boys band? Were the rest of them demons too? Was it Gwi Ma's idea? What if they discover you too?

You were so lost in thought that you didn't realise that Baby was calling you until he started poking you with a pen. "Hey. Hey, hey! We have to win this, so work." He pointed at the papers in front of you.

"What? Oh. Yeah, right. Sorry." You coughed and picked up the papers filled with song lyrics.

You were glad that the demonic rapper wasn't really paying attention to you so he wouldn't notice the patterns you had to bear on your own skin. Maybe having your soul helped you seeming more human to the demon.

The two of you worked, silently rapping the lines you assigned to each other. You had to admit that for a demon he was pretty good, even better than most people you worked with before.

"Do you want to perform with a choreography or just focus on rapping?" You asked.

"I don't really care." He had a similar reply to most questions you asked. You started to notice that he was lacking in dealing with interactions. Sure, maybe he was a good rapper and had some acting skills, he barely spoke and couldn't keep up the sweet act all the time. It was almost funny to look at.

"Now Baby and Y/n will be fighting Syngwon and Joel! Let's see who wins!" The host annouced and all lights turned at you, Baby and your opponents.

You shared glances with Baby, who was still unaware of your secret, and the performance began.

You felt energy fill you when the show's fans joined in, chanting and singing. You didn't pay attention to anything other than the feeling of freedom and love that filled you. You performed perfectly, interacting with the fans and encouraging them to join in.

You won. This round and then five more. You won the event.

You were filled with excitement to the brim, a mix of your own feelings and the emotions you absorbed from the fans. It felt great, you didn't even care about the weird looks Baby gave you when you stood together on the stage and said goodbye to the viewers.

"Didn't know that demons walked so freely amongst humans." You stopped in your tracks when you heard an ominous and monotone voice coming from behind you.

You were on your way back home, groceries in your hand. You slowly turned around and there he was, Baby in his full glory. Instead of cute clothes he was wearing black robes and a gat, his hair was darker, his skin was greyshly-blue with darker patterns all over it and his eyes, piercing deep into your own, were yellow. He looked similar to how you looked in your demon form.

"You didn't have to sneak up to me, y'know?" You groaned. "So, you found me out, huh?"

He smirked, circling a lollipop in his hand. "Wasn't at all hard, I saw the souls that shared their energy with you, I saw your patterns." He pushed himself of the wall and teleported right in front of you. "it's really interesting."

"What is?" You looked at him, unimpressed with his confidence.

"Y'know," he took your hand in his and your patterns showed, "the fact that a demon has a music career and doesn't eat souls." He raised an eyebrow. "Why's that Gwi Ma didn't receive any soul."

"I don't work for the tragic king of demons." You shrugged and started walking, if he wanted to talk to you he could follow you.

"Wait, what?" He asked confused, going after you.

"That. I don't do anything for Gwi Ma, I don't send him souls, I don't hear him. He doesn't know that I'm here."

He chuckled, amused by your words. "Don't joke around, we all hear Gwi Ma, it's impossible not to hear him!"

You turned to him and sighed. "Yeah? Guess I'm a human then."

Your pace fastened suddenly and teleported away from him, creating a longer distance with you.

Baby caught up to you and grabbed you by your wrist. "How did you... how did you get your soul back?" He suddenly sounded serious, there was a tinge of hope in his eyes.

You looked at his hand holding your wrist and pulled it away from his embrace. "I can tell you about it later. We have to work on a song together anyway, so why not figure each other out while we do that. hm?"

"Hah, you could rival Mystery with your secrecy. Sure, sure, demon soloist, I'll see you." He saluted you before teleporting away.

You shook your head and made your way back to your apartament. Looks like you've got yourself a very interesting artist to work with.

"So, what's the deal with you and the cute appearance?" You asked once you and Baby were in your recording studio. It was secluded so no one would hear your demon related discussion and you knew it well enough to be safe if he tried anything.

Baby looked at you from over the lyrics you were writing. "Jinu came up with the whole boys band idea, we're supposed to steal the hunters' fans and destroy the Honmoon." He shrugged.

"Destroy Honmood to feed the dying king?"

"Something like that, yeah. I don't really care, I just want to get a reward for suffering like this."

You chuckled. "Really, what a terrible fate you must be living. Wearing cute clothes and beign adored by all. What a nightmare."

Baby looked offended with your reply, just scoffed and suddenly was very eager to work on the lyrics.

"I'm so glad that this whole suffering is done for me, no more Gwi Ma, no more killing humans."

"About that, how do you not starve?"

"Hm? Oh, that." You leaned back in your chair. "Basically it's about people willingly sharing their love with me, if they share it, it flows into me like river water into the sea and that's my main source of energy."

"So that's why you went for music huh?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of?" He titled his head, confused.

"Yeah, kind of. I love singing, always did, even with my broken demon voice. I love the adoration I receive and the fans. This is why I'm still stuck in Korea even if I know that Huntrix could find me at any moment." You looked at him. "You don't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The happiness coming from love. Your fans love you, adore you."

Baby looked at you after hearing your words. He took some time to answer. "They're humans. I eat their souls and that's what matters."

"You don't believe that."

"I do!" He shouted. "I know what I believe, and humans are nothing but food to me. I sing to steal their souls."

"Whatever makes you happier, Baby Saja." You looked at the papers in front of you. "What if... I take you out tomorrow?"

"Huh? What?"

You ignored his question. "Do you like amusement parks?"

"..." He looked away. "I never was to an amusement park."

You perked up after hearing his answer. You took him by his hand and he jumped up in his chair. "Well, you'll be in one tomorrow! Cancel all your evil-world-domination plans, cause we'll be having lots of fun." You smiled beamingly and you could swear that you had a tinge of smile on Baby's face.

The following way was truly magical. You took Baby to your favourite amusement park and the fun started when you barely stepped through the main gates. Fans surrounded the two of you, asking for pictures, autographs, declaring their love and so on. You glanced at Baby between every fan interaction and you could tell that even if he felt a slight discomfort, overall he had fun. He eagerly signed every picture and even laughed when his fans recreated his famous "goo goo ga ga" from his first appearance in the variety show.

After the first big wave of fans you took him to a roller coaster and many other attractions. For you, they were somethings you already did so you had more occasions to pay attention to the growing kpop star next to you. And saying that he had was an understatement. Shooting targets, bumper cars, even the Ferris wheel.

You saw the light in his eyes, the excitement and pure emotions. He didn't look like a gloomy, tired of everything demon like the first time you met him. He was actually interested in the attraction he took part in.

You took a break on a bench before your last surprise stop. A corndog in your hand while Baby had a giant pink cotton candy. He swayed his legs back and forth as he pulled away pieces of the sweet snack and ate them.

"Enjoying yourself?" You asked, reaching your hand to wipe a piece of cotton candy from the man's cheek. He nodded energetically, his eyes glowing. "Didn't know you had such a sweet tooth." You chuckled.

You waited until the two of you were done eating and pulled him off the bench. "C'mon! There's one more place I want to show you." You rushed him and forced him to follow behind you as you led him through the crowded amusement park.

You reached it, the aquarium. You were wondering if taking him there was really that good of an idea since he seemed to like the adrenaline quickening attractions more, but your worries were washed away when you saw him glued to the glass and gently poking it with his finger while a fish tried to catch his finger. He looked like a kid who saw real fishes for the first time.

You were forced to hold his hand while you walked through the building or he'd get lost while he looks at sharks or something. You didn't really talk, Baby was busy watching and chasing fish - not really caring if he forced you to chase them with him. And you were watching him, seeing the slight shifts in his aura. He felt less hostile and negative than he did before, maybe it wasn't a big chance, but you saw potential in him.

You saw a chance for your new companion to find freedom.

"Hey, Y/n?" He asked suddenly when the two of you stood in the middle of the biggest room in the whole aquarium.

"Hm?" You hummed in response, looking at a hoard of jellyfishes swimming by.

"How does it feel... to not hear him?"

You turned around, looking at the man who's expression was now stiff and serious.

"Ah, Gwi Ma." You turned back to the jellyfishes and pointed at them. "I feel like them. Unbothered, just swimming by everything. They know that they won't be safe forever, but they live by present not future." You smiled and looked back at him. "That's how it's for me. I know that I'm stil a demon and the hunters may not be forgiving even if I wish they would, but it doesn't matter to me. I have the things I love and the people who love me, that's what I live by now and I know that there's no demon king who can take that away."

Baby didn't answer, he looked at his hand holding yours and...

There was a glow, it was slight, weak, barely there.

The blue glow of his soul.

It was warm, gentle, but still had some sharp corners.

It seemed like he didn't notice that, but maybe it was for the better. You wanted to see the progress yourself, for him to not feel terrified or pushed to do more or less, to maintain or reject that soul that came back to him.

"We should get back, we have a song to make." You squeezed his hand.

He pouted. "But it's so fun here."

"We can return after our performance, you big kid."

"Pfft, okay." He scoffed.

"I've got an idea for the title." You said when you left the amusement park.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we'll call it; Freedom."

Maybe it wasn't a very original idea, but in your mind it created a perfect image of what Baby could get if he and hid friends tried hard enough to accept their mistakes instead of living in endless misery because of them.

Okay my first ever Baby x reader fic done! Writing it was hard but I hope that you guys like it! The next ones will be better I swear <3 I just need to get a better hang on writing these handsome demon boys

See you my dear Kpop Demon Hunters fans

Nate <3

[rawme-price]

So...healer!reader pt 5, shes already healed the guys individually, where will they go from here?🤭

It becomes a bit of a routine. The guys try not to ask for ur healing too often, they value u as a genuine member of the team and would hate for u to think ur just here for that. But, you do notice they all perform much better after you heal them. Plus, it kind of gets on ur nerves when they try to 'tough out' some of the minor pain, bc u can feel it radiating from them and now that you have healed them before there's really no reason for u to be shy about it again.

So, you make sure to heal them all at least once a week, sometimes more if they actually are hurt. Ghost goes all soft and pliant, simply enjoying the fact his chronic pain is gone for a bit. Price tends to take the time to smoke, hes learned that ur healing with smoke in his lungs feels devine. Soap doesnt have much constant pain besides mild tinnitus, so he and gaz tend to work out like hell beforehand bc it feels alot better when the magic has something to focus on.

But you never seem to ask anything in return. Its frustrating. Especially considering soap has explicitly offered you to bed and all you've done is turn him down with a small smile. Needless to say, the guys are concerned. Gaz calls a team meeting between the four of them, a furrow in his brow.

"Do you think we're taking advantage?"

Its a long and serious discussion. Price thinks they are, they all have some sort of power dynamic over you (some more than others). Ghost doesnt think so, hes seen you punch a guy's lights out for looking at you the wrong way, if you didnt want to do something then you wouldnt. Soap seems mixed, he trusts your decisions, but he doesnt want to have accidentally coerced you into anything. The discussion gets them nowhere, so finally gaz calls you in.

U give them a confused look, but seem overall relaxed. "Uh- everything okay?"

Price doesnt mince words, "if you dont want to heal us. You dont have to. If you dont feel comfortable working in this team, give me the paperwork and ill approve it, no questions asked."

"What?" Youre honestly baffled, looking between them like they're crazy. "What on earth makes you think i dont want to heal you?? If I didnt then I wouldnt??"

So they explain they're reasoning, finally leading to the last point of u never seeking out ur own satisfaction. They don't want to make u heal them if u dont get some sort of satisfaction in return, it feels predatory or whatever.

You cant help it, you laugh. A bit from nerves but also from relief bc you thought you were being kicked out. "Oh my god- thats it?" You try to cover ur grin with a hand.

"the hell do you mean thats it?!" Soap retorts, a bit put off by ur sudden mirth "this is serious!"

"God! No- its- you dont understand-" you take a few deep breaths before calming down. Looking them in the eyes you shrug "im asexual. I uh- dont feel sexual desire. Like. At all."

Before they can freak out, you strike down whatever fears u know they're thinking "whatever sexual moments did occur were totally my choice. I may not get satisfaction like you guys do, but I like to see you guys happy, I like to help. Besides, all this healing has given me alot of practice with my magic, I really dont want to stop."

You and them have another, quite long discussion, and decide to keep up the arrangement. You get to practice magic, and they get to have the best damn orgasms of their lives. In fact, this probably means you can heal them more often now that you have permission to really experiment with ur methods.

(HA YALL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A FIVESOME HUH??? WRONG!! anyways happy pride to all my fellow asexuals!! Also dw guys this is NOT the end of the series lol)

[akeaaan]

If Only...

Jinu X fem.Reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my fourth fanfic of jinu and I'm going crazy someone stop me please. Also I'm losing ideas so if you have any request please do drop a note. I still have another idea of angst until I make some soft happy endings lol

Synopsis:

╰┈➤ If Only...

It was never supposed to happen.

You weren't supposed to feel this. To hesitate.

But fate — cruel, laughing fate — had always toyed with you, over and over again. And here you were, caught in its trap once more.

Your scythe had cut down hundreds of their kind. Demons had crumbled into dust at your feet, your blade unflinching, your heart colder each time.

But now?

Now you couldn't kill even one.

Why him?

You didn't belong in the spotlight. You hated it — the blinding lights, the staged smiles, the never-ending swarm of paparazzi. The fake interviews, the forced poses, the soul-sucking brand deals. You hated being told to be perfect.

So you stayed in the shadows, right where you belonged.

You let Huntrix shine in the public eye: Mira, Rumi, and Zoe — the idols, the faces, the voices. They danced in the light, while you hid behind soundproof glass.

You were their producer — the faceless fourth. The one who stayed up late tuning tracks, patching lyrics when writer's block hit, and crafting every beat that sealed away the honmoon. You wove magic into the melody, just like the ones before you.

Because this was tradition. Always three on the stage. Always one in the dark.

You were older than them — not by much, but enough to feel responsible. You were their unnie, their protector. You had more battle scars, more stories, more secrets. That's why they never worried when you went on solo missions.

And that was your greatest weapon: anonymity.

The demons thought there were only three.

There had always only been three — as far as they knew.

But behind every generation of Hunters, there was someone else. Someone offstage. Someone who wrote the songs, not to climb the charts, but to trap the shadows lurking in the echoes.

You didn't need powerful vocals.

You had powerful visions.

And now... your power betrayed you.

Your mind spiraled. A million thoughts screamed inside your skull.

Should I let my heart keep listening? Up 'til now I've walked the line—nothing lost, but something missing...

You had everything, didn't you?

A found family that never let go. Best friends who would die for you. Your parents—alive and well. A career that others only dreamed of.

So why... why did your chest ache like something had been carved out of it?

And then—you saw him.

That's when it clicked.

What you were missing wasn't something. It was someone. It was love.

The kind that doesn't knock politely—it breaks the door down and stands in your ruined threshold.

You cursed yourself, quietly, for saying yes to Bobby.

"Come on," he had begged, "You've got the lightest schedule. Just help us set up the fan sign?"

And because you were you—softhearted, capable, and impossibly easy to guilt-trip—you agreed.

Even went the extra mile.

You planned the whole event. Stayed up finalizing logistics. Then told the rest of the staff to clock out early and go home to their families.

Now here you were. Alone in the quiet morning, taping up last-minute signage outside the venue.

You were halfway through unfurling a tarp when you spotted them—four bundled shapes huddled in sleeping bags along the curb.

"...Idiots," you muttered, frowning. Fans like these were rare and reckless. Sleeping outside just to be first in line for autographs?

You shook your head and kept working—until one of them stirred. One pulled back his hood and stood, dusting off the creases from his shirt.

That's when you saw him.

Eyes still puffy from sleep. Hair a soft, tousled black. That calm, unreadable face framed by the dawn's early light.

Back then, you had no idea who he was.

You'd been off the grid for days. Locked in the studio producing songs for idols you barely knew. Huntrix had been hunting without you. You hadn't checked socials in a week.

So when he stepped forward and said—

"Uh... can I use the bathroom?"

—you didn't even blink. Just sighed, rolled your eyes, and jerked your head toward the venue.

"This way."

No thanks. No recognition. He simply nodded and followed.

You didn't think much of it. You were too busy—back to climbing a wobbly stool to hang the tarpaulin behind were the girls will be sitting .

Balancing on tiptoe, gripping the thin banner with cold fingers.

Until a quiet voice called behind you:

"You know, that thing's totally uneven."

You didn't have to look to know it was him.

"And you're going to fall if you keep shifting like that."

You gritted your teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said flatly. "At least let me help."

You finally glanced down—and your heart skipped. He was already walking toward you. Calm. Composed. His face unreadable, but his hand was outstretched, palm open like he already knew you'd take it.

You didn't.

And in that split-second—of course—you slipped.

"Shit—" you hissed as your balance gave out and gravity claimed you. The ground rushed up too fast. You braced, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for the sharp slam of wood against your back—

But it never came.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist, halting your fall mid-air like it was nothing.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you cracked one eye open—then the other.

There he was.

Smug. Too close. Too confident.

That crooked smirk on his lips practically screamed "told you so."

His dark eyes flicked over your face, glittering with something unreadable—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. The hold on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you in his grip.

He was close. Too close.

You could feel his breath against your mouth. Hear the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart. And yours—yours was stammering like it didn't know what to do with itself.

He tilted his head a little. "You always this stubborn?"

You swallowed hard. "You always this annoying?"

His smirk widened—but his eyes softened, just barely. "Only when I'm right."

Later that afternoon, the event hall buzzed with energy—fans lined up, banners waving, cameras flashing. But your focus narrowed sharply when your eyes caught a familiar face.

Him.

He was back, but not alone this time. He stood upfront at the signing table with a few others you recognized from earlier—those same guys who'd been in the sleeping bags back at the entrance. And now they were freshen up, styled, and posing as if they belonged.

The Saja Boys.

You stood stiffly near a concrete pillar, arms crossed, trying to keep your face neutral. Rumi, Mira, and Zoe exchanged less-than-thrilled glances. No one had told you this was going to be a joint fan sign. The Huntrix event you had personally organized—put your own hours into, from venue to logistics—was now sharing space with a brand new K-pop boy group?

Your eye twitched.

You caught sight of him again, seated right next to Rumi. They were speaking quietly, heads close. Something about the way he leaned in, relaxed but confident, made your skin prickle.

"Do they know each other?" you murmured to no one in particular.

You flagged down one of the event staff, your voice firm. "Who approved the seating chart? Who is that?"

She gave you a sheepish smile, clearly overwhelmed. "Oh—uh, that's Jinu. He's the leader of the Saja Boys.

Your stomach dropped.

Leader? Of course he is.

As if on cue, Jinu glanced up from the table and locked eyes with you across the venue. Recognition flickered instantly in his gaze—and then he smiled.

That same maddening, devastatingly charming smile from earlier. The one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn't bother looking back.

The moment you stepped off and slipped behind the black curtains marking the backstage area, it was like you could finally breathe again. The air felt less heavy away from the flashing cameras, squealing fans, and—most of all—him. You paced for a second, then stopped by a corner to scroll through your phone, pretending to be invested in it. Anything to not think about the way your stomach twisted when he was near.

The distant noise of the crowd faded just enough for you to hear footsteps. Lazy, heavy, tired ones. You looked up.

It was Jinu—of course it was. He stood a few feet away, sharp eyes unreadable beneath dyed bangs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, the rest of the Saja boys passed by in a blur of exhaustion—Abby tossing his bouquet dramatically into a trash bin, Mystery yawning, Baby leaning heavily on Romance's shoulder as they all disappeared toward the van.

But Jinu? He was the only one who didn't just throw the bouquet in. He placed it gently—deliberately—on top of the pile. A folded piece of paper stayed clutched in his other hand, something he didn't discard. A letter from a fan, maybe. Or something else.

You glanced back down at your phone. He didn't leave.

"So what are you to them?" he asked, voice smooth, slightly amused. "Their manager? Event organizer?"

You looked up again. He was staring at you, head slightly tilted, brows raised in quiet challenge. The others were gone now—just the two of you. You squared your stance.

"I'm their producer," you replied flatly, folding your arms. Cool. Professional.

Jinu's lips tugged into a half-smirk as he slowly folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And you planned the fan event too? Damn. All in one, huh?"

He took a few slow steps in your direction, casual but not aimless. Calculated.

"I'm a perfectionist," you said simply, holding his gaze.

"Mm. Figures," he said, voice lower now as he closed the distance just a little more, eyes scanning your face. "You've got that look. Like nothing ever passed by you."

There was something in the way he said it—less teasing, more observant. He didn't mean just the event.

You looked away first.

You always did.

And ever since that day, your lives kept tangling—deliberate or not. Jinu always seemed to be just a few steps behind you. Or ahead of you. Or waiting.

There was something about the way he smiled—just a little too slow, a little too soft. The way his eyes held yours longer than they should've, almost as if memorizing the shape of your face each time. And then there was the way his gaze would flick down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, like a secret only he knew.

It wasn't just glances. It was tension. Thick and charged, like static before a storm.

The day he reached out—his hand resting on your waist to move you gently aside in the crowded idol common room—it felt like something clicked into place. The contact lingered. Not enough to raise suspicion, but just enough to make your breath catch.

Then there were the late-night run-ins. The 24-hour convenience store closest to your apartment, where you'd both pretend surprise even though you frequented it around the same hour. That time he "accidentally" found you working late in the studio, hunched over your laptop, trying to produce a new track under deadline.

"I didn't know anyone else was here," he'd said. But his voice didn't match the words. It was too calm. Too knowing.

Neither of you made the first move right away. But one night, you both stopped pretending.

Your lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then hungry. The kiss tasted like everything you'd both been holding back. Like the first breath after drowning.

And somehow, it felt like more than just a kiss. It felt like a beginning. A fragile, burning beginning.

You were falling for him. And he was falling too.

But then you heard it.

A conversation behind closed doors—Huntrix voices lowered in warning, laced with urgency. Jinu's name. A word you weren't meant to hear.

Demon.

Your heart plummeted like it had been cut loose from your chest.

Enemy.

And now, here you stood—frozen in place, suffocating beneath the weight of everything you knew and everything you felt. Love, twisted with betrayal. Warmth, laced with danger.

I can't decide what's wrong, what's right... Which way should I go?

The lyrics echoed in your mind, torn from a memory you couldn't quite silence. A song that once comforted you—now mocking your indecision.

Your scythe's blade hovered dangerously close to Jinu's neck. Your hands trembled, not from fear, but from fury barely contained. Your jaw locked as your blurred vision clung to the shape of him. The boy you used to trust. The demon he became.

Jinu didn't move. Didn't even raise his eyes to meet yours at first.

The wind whispered across the rooftop ledge, catching the hem of his jacket and brushing through your hair like some ghost trying to push you apart. He let out a slow breath, and when he finally looked at you, it wasn't with defiance.

It was guilt. Heavy. Real. Like he'd been carrying it for lifetimes.

"I never wanted you to find out like this," he said quietly, voice low and raw.

Your grip tightened on the scythe's handle. The curved blade shimmered under the moonlight, inches from his skin.

"You lied to me," you hissed, each word heavy like it cost you something to speak them aloud. "All this time. You were one of them."

Jinu lowered his gaze again. "Four hundred years is a long time to regret something."

"Don't you dare make this poetic," you snapped. "You could've told me. You let me care about you—trust you—when you knew what you were."

He didn't defend himself. Just stood there, letting your anger land where it may.

"I'm still me," he finally said, barely louder than the wind. "Even if the past is monstrous... I never stopped being me when I was with you."

Silence stretched. Your blade didn't waver, but your heart did

You didn't know when the tears started to fall—only that they burned on the way down.

All this time, you thought he was your safe place. The quiet in the chaos. But now... now he was the very storm you'd been trying to survive.

Jinu stepped forward—slowly, cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.

"You're right," he said softly. "I should've told you. I should've let you hate me from the beginning. But I didn't want to lose you before I ever had the chance to keep you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, half-choked and broken. "So instead you let me love a lie?"

He flinched.

The scythe dropped from your hands with a metallic thud against the rooftop. You couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't hold anything anymore. Not the rage. Not the love. Not the grief curling inside your ribs like fire.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive you," you whispered.

Jinu looked like he wanted to speak, but the words never came. Maybe there weren't any left that could fix this.

And maybe... that was the point.

You turned away from him, the wind now at your back. The skyline blurred through your tears, the city below indifferent to the war inside your chest.

Behind you, Jinu didn't move. Maybe he knew chasing you would only make it worse.

Maybe he knew he'd already lost.

Your voice broke the silence one last time, barely above a breath:

"If only I knew what my heart was telling me... Don't know what I'm feeling, is this just a dream?"

And then you were gone— leaving Jinu standing alone beneath the stars, with nothing but regret and the sound of your fading footsteps.

[firingstars]

locked in

— a sequel to match made

congressman!bucky x matchmaker!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend have been together for a strong nineteen months and counting. problem is, you’re starting to notice he’s hiding things from you.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, semi-public (?) stuffs, oral (f+m receiving), hair pulling, face grabbing, fingers in mouth, unprotected sex, backshots, fingering, window… sex…, soft dom bucky, slight sub reader, language, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, bucky is the best boyfriend ever and loves you very much

word count: 15.2k

a/n: due to popular demand, here’s a second part! this is also my formal apology for whatever happened in love, persevering <3 please accept. // also if anyone saw this get prematurely posted with NOTHING attached you didn’t fucking see it. i wasn’t made aware until EIGHT HOURS LATER and the fic wasn’t even done yet!!! 😔 i always make my fic intro template things before my fics are done for motivation

masterlist

You almost lost your fucking job. 

You expected it, honestly. With the amount of lines you crossed, boundaries broken, and toes you stepped on… Yeah. There was only so much that your boss could take from you— star employee or not. 

Thankfully, your boss kept the whole thing quiet from the rest of your coworkers to spare you the embarrassment since you had the decency to come to her and tell her the truth. 

It still meant you had to refund Sam Wilson the entire Ador Luxury Matchmaking Package, which your boss was not happy about.

Sam, on the other hand, was over the moon. 

When he received the refund transaction, he called you almost immediately. You had to go into a private conference room to answer the call, away from your coworkers.

“Mr. Wilson,” you answered the phone, trying to keep your tone light.

“Hey, Ms. Matchmaker,” he said, suspicion in his voice. “Did Buck cancel his membership?”

“That is correct,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“I thought we had an agreement. I paid you guys extra to not allow him to bully you guys into ending the program,” Sam said. You can hear the frustration in his voice. You don’t blame him. “What happened?”

“I can assure you– the refund is not due to Congressman Barnes just cancelling the service,” you said. “In fact, he is no longer in need of my services.”

“What? Then he’s been on a date?” Sam asked. “If that’s the case, then why the refund? If the date was successful, then doesn’t Bucky get the benefits or whatever?”

There was no response from your end for a good handful of moments. You were stuck, unable to respond. You couldn’t figure out how to say the words in the most professional way possible. You needed to find the right concoction, just in case there was someone walking down the hall at that exact moment,  and overheard your conversation. 

In the end, all you could think was that Bucky was a dead man walking.

You were going to kill Bucky. You weren’t sure how you were going to do that, seeing as he was the one with the years of experience of fighting between the two of you, but you would do it. You were hoping that he would’ve told his one and only friend that he had a girlfriend. 

Then again, Bucky refused to answer any of Sam’s calls. You texted Sam back most of the time when you got ahold of Bucky’s phone, pretending to be Bucky. Bucky didn’t care that you were doing that– though you wondered if Sam would be heartbroken if he ever found out. 

“Hello?” Sam asked, calling out your name. “Are you there?”

“Congressman Barnes terminated his membership with Ador as he and I have mutually decided to pursue a more personal relationship with each other,” you quickly answered him, cringing at your own words. You took a quick breath in before continuing, “The refund is due to my own oversight, and is serving as an apology to you for wasting your time on our service. I truly hope that you will forgive me for being unable to maintain a more professional connection with the client.”

It was Sam’s turn to fall silent. You had to check your phone to make sure that the call was still active. There was a slight rustle on the other end, letting you know that he was still there– that he was on the other end, dissecting your words, gears processing through his mind.

“The matchmaker I hired is dating my friend?!” he cackled. 

“Mr. Wilson, I truly apologize for the inconvenience–” 

“There is no inconvenience!” he cut you off, still laughing. “Holy shit, let me tell you– after that first meeting with you? I asked Bucky what he thought about you as his matchmaker and his only words? He thought you were pretty. Would not say anything else. Fuck, listen, let me call you back– or let’s all go to dinner. You, me, Buck, and my girl. I gotta head down to the office and harass Bucky right now.”

You went on an unpaid suspension for eight weeks after the refund transaction went through. The HQ of Ador had to undergo a full on investigation to figure out if you were worth keeping around as an employee or not, seeing as you ended up breaking client-employee conduct. 

Your boss wasn’t awful, though. In fact, she was only pissed off about the refund because she knew that headquarters back in London would have been alerted. Either way, it was still the right thing to process the transaction. She promised you that she would be your biggest advocate during the investigation, and she would try to argue for you to get the time to be paid seeing as you were the best employee in the New York branch.

The second you told Bucky– who told Sam– you found money wired into your account the next business day. It was the same exact amount that you had refunded back to Sam. It was still more money than you would’ve made if you were working those eight weeks. 

Neither man told you how they got ahold of your bank information. Neither man would look you in the eye when you questioned them. 

So, you had eight weeks of basically overpaid, free vacation to do whatever the hell you wanted, and a new boyfriend. Which meant you spent damn near every single day in his office, cosplaying as some government worker– an intern or secretary. And you were helping him. You actually were. 

“You really don’t have to do any of this, baby,” Bucky told you. You had been coming for an entire week straight at this point.

“If I stay stationary for two months, I think I might die of brain failure,” you told him, stealing a stack of his files from him. “Besides. You look like you need some help. You should really hire a secretary. Or someone to help you out. A personal assistant, maybe?”

“I can handle it on my own,” he sighed, shaking his head. Despite his words, he looked grateful as you took the files to the lounge area of his office and spread them out on the coffee table.

“Tell that to me when you sleep more than two hours a night, handsome,” you said, tucking your legs under you.

With less sensitive information that he was allowed to hand over to you, you organized and kept tabs on. You summarized documents for him perfectly that made his life easier. You helped train other onboarding interns that didn’t know what the hell they were doing. You managed his calendar when he looked like he was about to combust into flames. You got to spend time with him during his breaks, have lunch with him, eat dinner with him, and he would drive you home, and spend the night with you most nights.

Not that anyone knew that, though. They thought you were an actual employee of this official government building in New York. With the way that you walked side by side with Bucky every single day, holding files and looking down at his work phone– they really thought that you were working for him.

“Where’s your secretary today?”

You don’t know who asked the question, and you don’t really care. There’s about three other officials in this room that barged in out of nowhere, when you were on Bucky’s lap. 

Both of you had panicked, and he had shoved you into the hiding space beneath his desk before any of them could see the scandalous position he had you in. 

Unluckily for him, he had chosen the wrong place to put you. 

“At a training session with other interns,” Bucky said, tone clipped and short. He was irritated at being interrupted out of nowhere, but also at the fact that you were ignoring his warnings. 

You grinned, pressing an innocent kiss to the hand that gripped over your wrist. Tight, but not enough to hurt you. You continued to palm over his hardening length with your free hand. 

You weren’t paying attention to any of the fancy words that were being thrown around over your head, but you were certain that Bucky wasn’t either. You rested the side of your head against his thigh, feeling the muscle tense and hardened at your touch as you continued to lazily play with him over the fabric of his dress pants. 

Bucky’s metal hand slipped from your wrist to your hair, carding through it and stopping at the base of your skull– another cautionary message being sent to you as Bucky tried to focus on the sudden meeting thrown his way. Thankfully, these men loved the sound of their own voices. They couldn’t hear you slowly unzip him, and free Bucky from the confines of his slacks. 

“Your thoughts, Congressman Barnes?”

Your boyfriend cleared his throat above you as your lips kissed the tip of his cock, wrapping your hand around the base of him to keep him in place as his dick twitched in response. You fought back the small hum that threatened to come forth as you licked up the small bead of precum that leaked out.

“It’s a very… worrying matter,” Bucky said slowly, clenching his jaw as he took in a slow breath. You licked a thin strip up from the base of his cock– focusing on the thick vein that you knew was sensitive. “That is very worrisome. And we’ll get to the bottom of this uh– worrying... issue.”

You paused at his words, unable to believe what you were hearing from him for a moment. You pulled away from him for a moment, hand still wrapped around his dick as you pressed your face to his thigh, trying to hide your laugh into his flesh. 

Bucky’s hand tugged back on your hair roughly, pulling your head back and away from his thigh. Immediately, his metal hand shifted from your hair to clasp around your face, covering your mouth. His fingertips dug into the soft skin of your cheeks, daring you to make another noise. Surprise and excitement shot through your body in response.  

You could test him. You could press it. 

You decided against it, and licked his palm instead, closing your eyes. You could feel his hand twitch against your face— he told you once that his arm was calibrated to feel sensations. That he felt nerves like his other arm did. You smiled just a little, then kissed right where your tongue had just been. 

All the while, your hand was still pumping at his dick in lazy strokes. Nothing too much, nothing that would alert anyone of your presence, nothing that would make him let out noises that were only yours to hear. 

“Right,” one of the officials said slowly. “Well– we have lunch with some of the other representatives in ten minutes. You are welcome to join us, Congressman. If your secretary comes back from her training, she is more than welcome to join us as well. Lord knows we need a little more eye candy around here.”

A chorus of laughter rang around the room, but not from Bucky. In fact, he just stared at them until their laughter became uncomfortable, and they awkwardly excused themselves. 

The second the door to his office shut, Bucky’s chair was rolled back instantly, and your hands weren’t touching him anymore. 

You were still on your knees, looking up at him as Bucky stared down at you, hand still on your face to shut you up before you had been caught laughing at his inability to form proper words with your mouth on his cock.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby,” he murmured, hand shifting to cradle your face.

A metal thumb brushed against your lip slowly, a shiver running down your spine involuntarily. His touch was gentle. Reverent. He touched you like you were made of glass. Unlike the blown out, hungry look in his eyes, the gruff, low tone of his voice as he whispered to you. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw his other hand tuck himself back into his pants. When your eyebrows furrowed in response, he let out a soft chuckle.

Bucky leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. Then, he stood up tall. He rolled his shoulders back, but you couldn’t focus. Your eyes were on him, and the aching bulge above his zipper. 

“I have to go to lunch, sweetheart. When I get back, you’re going to get exactly what you wanted from me, okay?” 

Your boyfriend left you there. Left you partially under his desk, still on your knees. What was supposed to be you teasing him, quickly shifted into you being extremely hot and bothered. You didn’t know how long lunch would take, either. 

You busied yourself with literally anything else. Not that it worked. Every footstep that came down the corridor, you were jumping in attention like some rabbit in heat.

Except, Bucky moved like a ghost. You wouldn’t hear his footsteps. 

When he finally returned, you didn’t even hear him until the sound of the office door locking caught your attention. You barely had the time to turn around before he was all over you. Lips were on yours as he hoisted you upwards, wrapping your legs around his waist to carry you to his choice of christening. 

An arm swiped his desk clear of any debris so no pens or other office supplies would be digging into your skin. He bunched your skirt up to your hips, and pulled your panties to the side. Bucky bent you over his desk with fingers shoved into your mouth to keep you quiet as he did what you wanted from the beginning. He curtained you, his chest pressed against your back as he whispered sweet nothings to contrast the punishing thrust of his hips— letting you know that he still very much adored you, but was also extremely annoyed by your little game earlier.

Afterwards, Bucky cleaned you up gently. Kissed you softly, held you tightly in his arms. Then presented you with food that he brought back for you– he ordered you lunch while he was out eating since he knew you wouldn’t have left the office while he was gone. 

You almost jumped his bones again right then and there for how considerate he was of you.

So yes, you almost lost your job, but you weren’t necessarily upset about it. Not when you got to spend an entire month with Bucky, helping him out at work, cuddling with him at night, and waking up at whatever time you wanted the next morning. On the rare days that you weren’t at the office with him, it was because you were somewhere else– still with him. 

Eventually, you were called back into work.

You convinced Bucky to hire an assistant to take care of his little things— stuff that you did for him to make his life easier so he could focus on more pressing things. It managed to ease his workload just a little bit, but not by a lot. Bucky still managed to bite more than he could chew, and you knew he was stressed from how slow the process was for passing bills and getting change to happen. 

Despite it all, the two of you were content. Happy. Overjoyed, really. He was perfect, and he swore to the heavens that you were, too.

A cacophony of voices, poppers, music, and sparkles were blasted into your face as you pushed open the door to the office. Streamers were shot directly into your face, colors cascading directly before your eyes, showering you with colors of the pastel rainbow. 

Your coworkers, all dressed to the nines, were cheering. A few of them held flutes of champagne. Two of them held balloons– together making the number twelve together. One of them held a cake that read congratulations.

There was a catering table set for the party that was clearly waiting for you. You saw the table set, ready for everyone to dig into. You knew your boss didn’t hold back when it came to celebrating any kind of achievements, especially not your own. You were the best at what you did here.

Your grin wasn’t smug, even though you had every single right to be. You shrugged your blazer off as you sauntered into the room, allowing the applause and cheers to wash over you. You dropped your purse and other materials off at your desk as your boss approached you with a grin, hands going to your shoulders.

“My star employee– our number one matchmaker!” she cooed at you, everyone shouting around you in response to our praise. “Tell me, with this wedding upcoming this weekend, how many will you be responsible for?”

You paused, only for dramatic effect. The ceiling looked suddenly oh so interesting as you smiled. Then, you guessed, “Twelve?”

“Twelve!” your boss roared, the girls around you jumping up and down with excitement and cheer. 

“Do a speech, a speech!” your deskmate urged, and you only let out a small, playful sigh as everyone died down around you.

You were handed your own glass of champagne, led to the front of the room, and turned to look at all the girls. Girls that you worked with for the past six, almost seven years. Your boss had been doing this job for well over a decade now. There were a few new faces that had just started a few months ago. 

With your glass lifted into the air, you smiled, “Love is all around. It’s easy to find the perfect match for someone.”

They squealed, toasting to you. The cake was brought to you, letting you blow out the candles as if it was your birthday or something– just a tradition your company had for good luck. Something to bring more successful matches and weddings to your clients.

Your two clients, Luke and Jessica, were tying the knot after twelve months of dating, and another four months engaged. One year and four months— which was a relatively short time, but who were you to judge? They both told you they knew the other party was the one after the first date. Who were you to stand in the way of them? 

Just because you were fucking bitter, and jealous that you couldn’t spend time with your own boyfriend despite the fact that Luke and Jessica got together three months after you two did didn’t mean a thing. Not a single thing. 

You masked your growing irritation well with your clients. After all, your performance margins had been going through the roof within the last six months. Your productivity has never been better, your clients have never been happier with your performance, and you have been churning out perfect match after match like you might as well have been Cupid himself. 

Yet, you couldn’t find a single time for your own boyfriend. 

When you had a free night, he didn’t. There was a dinner that he had to get to, one that required secrecy amongst government officials. You understood that. You didn’t hold that against him– especially not when he looked pained to tell you that you couldn’t join him when you offered to come with him the first time he said he had the work dinner. Because you didn’t mind joining him for work related activity. You just wanted to spend time with him, by his side.

But you were a fucking matchmaker. You didn’t have any business being in a government setting, and you knew that. He knew that. The entire government knew that. 

Sometimes it wasn’t even dinner. Sometimes, he wasn’t even in the city. Or the state. Or even the fucking country. Bucky always let you know in advance when he had to travel for work, but there was usually never any chance for the two of you to meet for even a brief look at each other across the road. Just to see each other in person before he had to hop on the plane and head hours away from you.

On the rare occasions Bucky had a free night, you most certainly did not. You had a proposal to plan for. Not a policy or business proposal like he worked on. A marriage proposal. One that had you sneaking around parks in bushes, setting up trails of rose petals, hiring and arguing with musicians– things that you didn’t need your boyfriend around to trail you like a lost puppy asking you if there was something that you needed help with. 

If it wasn’t a proposal, you had another work event. A client on the verge of a breakdown because their date cancelled on them, or some bullshit like that. You would be so close to finally being in your boyfriend’s arms, but you would have to cancel on your own lover to play therapist even though you were severely undereducated and underpaid for the position. 

Bucky was understanding. Too understanding. So understanding that it made you want to bash your head into the wall. 

The two of you had working hours that were strenuous, strange, and demanding. 

Bucky hated his phone, but he still texted you often. Texted you good morning and good night every single day. He reminded you to eat at least twice a day knowing you were only running on the fuel of your own brain to make it through your work hours.

Absence definitely did not make the heart grow fonder. If anything, your heart was growing irritated. Angry. These happy couples around you were pissing you off. 

Each and every single one of your clients that reported to you that they were falling in love with the person that you set them up with, was like another person setting you up for failure. You were a ticking time bomb just ready to explode, and the only one who would ever be able to defuse you is currently locked away in his office with his pretty fucking secretary that you know he doesn’t care about, but spends more time with than you do. 

You’re not jealous of her perse. 

You’ve seen them work together. It’s strictly professional. You don’t know if she has a boyfriend, and you don’t really care if she does or doesn’t– you trust Bucky, bottom line. He hasn’t given you a single reason to not trust him. You know he has eyes for you and you only. What you’re envious of is the time that she gets to have with him. She sees him every single day. She handles his schedule, hands him coffee, speaks to him face to face, sits with him during meetings, and discusses his fucking policies with him. 

You’re jealous of the time that you don’t get to have with your own boyfriend. You haven’t seen him in over a week and a half by this point. Last time you saw him, it was for a brief lunch that lasted forty-two minutes before you both had to run into meetings. Before that, two weeks. 

You scratch angrily into your notebook, then rip the page out. You crumple it up, throwing the wasted piece of paper into the bin with a frustrated groan before scrubbing a hand down your face. 

The time on the clock reads 1:44am.

Bucky should be getting home by this time, you think. Your phone hasn’t rang otherwise. There’s no good night text yet. 

This was easier before. Easier before you got so attached to him. Easier before your world got shifted on its axis, and started to rotate around him, just a little bit. Easier when you didn’t love the man so fucking much. 

You couldn’t dwell on this though. Not when you had to go to sleep. You had somewhere to be tomorrow, and you couldn’t look like death itself. You sent off your own text to him, then let your sorrows and loneliness cuddle you to bed. 

As much as you wanted to wait for him to text you back, you couldn’t. You had a battlefield to get to. A networking event. A bride to maybe convince that she wanted to marry her groom. 

By the end of the wedding, your purse was full of business cards, and your lips were full of promises to call women on Monday to get them on your books as clients. Your face muscles hurt, your feet ached, and your heart was breaking.

Your phone was full of notifications, and not a single one of them was from your loving boyfriend. Did he get JFK’d somewhere? He couldn’t have. It would have been all over the news already if he did. Sam would have called you, too. Besides that, the serum in his veins would have him feeling the murderous intent from a thousand miles away.

You were pretty certain that he wasn’t joking when he said that he assassinated JFK, too. Except, you were drunk when he confessed that to you during a drinking game that you two were doing when you first started dating. You don’t know if you dreamt it. Bucky refuses to comment, like a true politician.

You make it through the rest of the wedding, get invited to the afterparty, decline, and step out into the street to wait for your Uber to arrive. A car pulls up to the curb that you know is not a silver hatchback like the app indicates, so you ignore it–

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone on a Friday night?”

Your head snaps up at the voice. Bucky’s stepping out of the driver’s side, holding a colorful arrangement of fresh summer flowers for you, wrapped in kraft paper, tied off with a bow. He’s dressed in a formal suit– bowtie and everything. You vaguely remember him telling you that there was a gala event that was happening tonight the last time that you two had a chance to speak on the phone. He must have had a chance to slip away from there. 

“Need a ride?” he asked, feet stopping just right before you.

You let out a laugh, looking up at him. You take a moment to admire him. Bucky’s smiling at you. There’s so much love in his eyes for you. There always is. In fact, it seemed as if there was more love there than there was than the last time he saw you. You were certain that there would be double the amount the next time you would meet.

“I have one,” you sighed, deciding to play coy with him. “Coming in about five more minutes.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Five minutes? That’s too long. Shouldn’t make you wait out here for even a second.”

You couldn’t fight back the grin that makes its way onto your face. You close the remaining distance between the two of you, your hand resting on his chest as you lean upwards towards him to meet his lips. Bucky’s hand wraps around your back, holding you to him to stabilize you, a small sigh escaping through his nose. 

“Hi, handsome,” you hummed, parting from him. 

Your smile only widened a little more when Bucky chased after your lips instinctively, wanting more. Wanting another kiss. You gave him just a couple more pecks before you settled the heels of your shoes back onto the cement of the sidewalk. A laugh rumbled through you at the disappointed look on his face.

“How’d you know where my wedding was, Congressman?” you asked, looking back at your phone to cancel the ride. 

“Oh you know. A birdie told me,” Bucky said, shrugging as he moved to open the passenger door for you.

“You had Redwing spy on me?’ you raised an eyebrow at him, stepping into the car..

“More like I had Sam send a trail on you tonight. Don’t know if he used Redwing,” he corrected, holding the flowers out for you to take. 

You rolled your eyes at him as you took the bouquet. He was messing with you, and you knew it. You shared your location with him on your phone a long time ago, and he only just figured out how to use the function of it a few months back. He was even shocked to find out that there was such a feature so easily accessible on regular technology. Bucky even asked you if you had his location. You didn’t, and you told him that you didn’t want it. You figured he would be weirded out by that kind of stuff as a former spy, and you were right. He was more at ease after your reassurance. 

However, he did enjoy the fact that he didn’t have to go through several satellite feeds and camera playbacks to find where you were.

In the car, the music is soft. Low. Something from the forties that you don’t really listen to unless you’re with Bucky. He’s tapping his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, and you find yourself relaxing into the comfortable leather of the seat. 

Neither of you are speaking, nor do you find the need to. 

Bucky knows you. You’re exhausted after an event like this. He used to ask you how the job went, like a mission debrief. To you, it is a mission. This was your battlefield, and you just fought against enemies and kept your cool against a thousand different obstacles that could’ve made the mission go sideways.

He learned over time that you just wanted silence, the same way that he did. Bucky used to think that you wanted to talk after these events, which wasn’t totally wrong. You talked if the event went horribly wrong and you needed to vent your frustration out to someone that wouldn’t get you fired. You talked his ear off because you couldn’t say what you wanted to in front of your own clients.

Bucky misunderstood and thought you wanted to talk after every single event. Eventually, he realized that most of the time, you enjoyed the peace and quiet of a job well done. That you wanted to sit without having to force a smile anymore, to close your eyes, and feel the weight of his hand on your thigh comfortingly as he drove. 

The sound of a text message coming through cut off the music momentarily. Your eyes cracked open, and on the center screen of Bucky’s dashboard, you saw there was a message from Bucky’s one and only friend.

Don’t Respond [12:08am]: Did she find out what you’re doing yet?

“What’s Sam talking about?” you asked, shifting to reach for Bucky’s phone that was in the cupholder. 

Bucky was faster. His hand left your thigh, grabbing the device before you could. He looked at the small screen momentarily, taking his eyes off the road for just a second. Then, you watched as he long pressed the side of his phone, turning it off completely before putting it back in the cupholder.

“Nothing, sweetheart. I’ll text him back later,” Bucky said, giving you a smile before looking back at the road. His hand returned back to its rightful place on your thigh. 

You stared at the side of his face, blinking at him. There was no more music in the car, since his phone was turned off. You were left in silence, just the low thrum of the engine and your thoughts being your only source of entertainment as Bucky turned into your apartment’s parking garage.

Bucky will text him back later? Bucky will text him back later?

No the fuck he won’t. 

As much as Bucky loves new technology like a nerd loves Star Wars, he hates it all at the same time. He thinks it’s disgusting for any sane person to spend the amount of time they do glued to their phones willingly outside of educational and work purposes. He’s a man that had zero choice in life, and he prefers to see the world. If he has free time, there is no way in hell that he will waste it typing away on a tiny screen to text back anyone. 

Except you, of course. He’ll only text and call you.

His reaction was even more strange. Bucky didn’t swat your hand away or anything like that. He didn’t scramble to get to his phone before you did– but he did react. He didn’t answer you. He deflected. He’s always answered your questions to the fullest.

Besides that, this wasn’t anything new between the two of you. You always texted Sam back through Bucky’s phone. When Sam texted, you would read it out loud, Bucky would answer, and you would type what Bucky said, but in a nicer… less aggressive way. In fact, 99% of the conversations Bucky had with Sam through text was done by you. Sam still did not know of that fact, and you were not going to be the one to tell him. 

You’re still reeling in your own thoughts by the time you get to your apartment. 

You shove your downward spiral for just a moment to accept Bucky’s extremely tempting offer to shower together– which is never anything sexual. 

Bucky enjoys the intimacy of being able to hold you, bare, and help you get cleaned from your day. It’s one of his favorite things to do. You revel in the way he takes his time, hands scrubbing at your scalp slowly to lather up the shampoo. He’ll ensure that not a single part of your body goes untouched.

You do the same for him. You take great care in every part of his body. You remember the first time you touched his scars– paid close attention to them. It looked self-inflicted. Nothing like a surgery or done by doctors or scientists, like how he said the arm was attached to him. When you saw his face, you knew you were right.

Every once in a while, you can still see the dark shadow casting over his eyes when your hands run over his shoulders. You simply move to kiss against the scars to quietly remind him that you aren’t afraid of him, and you watch as the shadows fall mercy to the light.

You finish your own skincare routine faster than he does, as per usual. 

“I don’t understand why the hell I have to do this, doll,” he grumbled as you left the bathroom. “I’m over a century old.”

“And I’m trying to make sure that you don’t look like it,” you replied over your shoulder. 

Bucky huffed, but continued with the routine that you strictly put him on. He complained, but he never went against your words. You knew that he was still following it even when he wasn’t spending the night at your place, too. He’s always been a handsome man, but you would say that he’s been leveled up even more since you came around.

While he’s distracted, you move towards his bag. 

You don’t distrust him, but you’re not stupid either. Turning off his phone, saying things out of character– yeah. Something is different. What’s even weirder is that he doesn’t have any of his usual things with him. There’s only his laptop. He doesn’t have any of his regular written notebooks or calendars that he usually carries around with him. The man loves his written, visual items. He likes to flip through pages and see things with his own eyes, to be able to edit with a pen instead of a tap of his fingers.

You hear the last cap of the bottle close, and shut his bag. You’re only left with more questions as you move his bag towards the hanger where your own purses hang.

“Ah– sorry,” Bucky apologized, seeing you move his stuff. 

“It’s alright,” you hummed, thankful you were able to play off your snooping.

The two of you move towards your bed, sliding under the sheets. You settled into his arms naturally, assuming the position that the two of you had found most comfortable in the almost two years of dating. Your head rested on his bicep like it was a pillow, his metal arm coming around you to wrap around your waist to keep you cool against his furnace of a body. 

“You ever respond to Sam?” you whispered into his chest, closing your eyes to snuggle closer into him.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, moving to grab his phone from the nightstand behind him. You immediately shifted, just slightly– to try and see the screen.

But so did he.

With one hand, he angled his phone so that it was distorted. The brightness was down low enough that you weren’t able to properly see the messages between both men. However, you saw him silence the chat. You saw the swipe of his thumb, and the icon that signified a silenced message.

Then, Bucky put his phone face down on the nightstand before returning to you.

“Good night, doll,” he murmured to you, hand moving to tilt your head up to him. He kissed you once, twice, a third time before settling back against the pillow. “I love you.”

“Night,” you whispered back, though your mind was everything but asleep. Suspicion was creeping up on you. You could feel it– the sign of something coming. You pushed your gut feeling down. “I love you, too.”

Bucky ❤︎ [2:48pm]: What days do you think are your most free days right now?

You paused, staring at the text on your screen. This is different. This isn’t a text that you normally received from Bucky. Especially not in the middle of the work day, either. Momentarily, you want to entertain the idea that someone stole his phone, but you were certain that someone would be injured or dying if they even got close to ever trying to rob Bucky.

Me [2:50pm]: Are you asking me on a date, Congressman?

Bucky ❤︎ [2:53pm]: I’m trying to plan one instead of our random spontaneous ones, yes. Can you let me know what days work best for you so I can look at my calendar?

Last time he ‘planned’ a date, the two of you went to Romania for your first year anniversary for a week. You didn’t even realize that’s what he meant by planning a date until you were at the fucking airport with no luggage. Except he packed for you, had your passport, and everything else you could possibly need. You were just completely oblivious to the entire thing. 

Me [2:54pm]: Is this a trip kinda date?

Bucky ❤︎ [2:55pm]: No, but I do need two days of your time.

Me [2:56pm]: You’re asking for a lot, handsome.

Bucky ❤︎ [3:01pm]: I promise I’ll be worth it.

You smile at your phone at his words. Of course he’ll be worth it. You take a moment to go through your calendar, flipping back and forth between all your different events. You cross check between client meetings, event plannings, meetings with your coworkers and boss, and then text him back with your response. 

Me [3:12pm]: Weekends are really bad right now. Mondays, too. Wednesdays are also surprisingly bad… Tuesdays and Thursdays are the best. Fridays are a hit and miss.

Bucky ❤︎ [3:25pm]: Tuesdays are bad for me. Rep. dinners on Tuesday nights and Wednesday morning debriefs. Can you block out Thursday and Friday for me two months from now? The 17th and 18th. I’ll give you more details about our date when it comes closer.

Two months? That’s more than enough time to block out. You’ll even take the weekend off for good measure, just in case. Still, two months is a long time to prepare for just a date. You can’t help but tease him a little bit.

Me [3:27pm]: You don’t plan on seeing me for two months? :( 

Bucky ❤︎ [3:30pm]: You’re funny. We’ll still have our random and spontaneous dates. Like tonight. I’m picking you up for dinner. Don’t call a ride after work.

Excitement flutters in your chest. You saw him four days ago, but you’re still happy. 

Time is thankfully on your side today, and he’s waiting for you outside your company’s building. You’re starved for food, for his affection, attention, and everything in between. 

Except all of that dies once his phone rings in the middle of dinner. Bucky silences it, and you see the screen. It has a name that you don’t recognize, then his phone goes faced down onto the table. A few moments later, it buzzes, indicating there was a voicemail left. Bucky swipes the device, pocketing it safely away. 

You’re really trying to not let this bother you. But change doesn’t just happen overnight, and this is Bucky’s personal phone. This isn’t even his work phone. He leaves his work phone in his bag, permanently silenced when he’s not working. This is his phone that he carries with him that he purposely ignores, that is only supposed to have two contacts in it– yours and Sams.

Bucky drove back to your apartment, even though his apartment is closer to the restaurant that he chose for the two of you to eat at tonight. 

You’re lying awake in his arms that night, listening to the sounds of Bucky’s soft snores as he sleeps beside you. It took him a long time to be able to sleep first between the two of you. You used to see how long you could stay up, to see if you could fall asleep after him. The first time he fell asleep on your lap, you almost cried.

Now, you’re staring at his sleeping face wondering if he thinks you’re a fucking idiot. 

The signs are right there. All the blaring signs are screaming in your face, loud and angry. The hidden phone screen, calls, and texts. Hiding his calendar, and all his written notes from you. The sudden trip planning, even though there was nothing special about two months from now. Two months was your twenty third month together. Not even the second year anniversary. 

Yeah, Bucky thought you were stupid.

The biggest sign? You’re currently sleeping in your own bed, and not in his. He’s hiding something in his apartment that he doesn’t want you to find—

An engagement ring. 

You go through Bucky’s drawers like those are your own clothes to wear because they are, and he loves to see you in his shirts. You once spent an entire weekend properly organizing his apartment in a way that made sense because his junk drawer consisted of bullets and lego pieces from when Sam’s nephews came over.

You once found guns and daggers in his apartment just by dropping pens and searching for them. There’s absolutely no way that Bucky can hide a velvet box anywhere in his apartment from you that you won’t accidentally stumble across. Hell– you found a loaded nine millimeter in your own apartment, and asked what the hell it was doing there. 

“Safety,” is all he answered with.

This was your job. This is what you did for a living. You helped other boyfriends hide proposals from girlfriends like this. This is exactly what you did– this is how you told them to do it, though you were a little more slick with it. You definitely made sure your clients weren’t hiding their phones from their potential fiance’s, that’s for sure. 

You made sure that your clients did not know that they were being proposed to. It was your mission, honestly. You saw enough of those TikTok’s where women truly had that gut feeling where they knew it was happening. You refused. It needed to be a surprise. You scouted out every single person in your client’s lives to ensure that every single moment would come to be a surprise. From ensuring that their nails would be done to the ring itself- everything would be perfect. 

Your boyfriend of almost two years was planning on proposing to you in two months, and he thought you wouldn’t find out? Jesus Christ– what were you going to do with him?

Marry him, you supposed.

If you were anyone else, if you were any less stable in your emotions, you would’ve thought he was cheating on you. Hiding his phone definitely made your eyebrow twitch for half a second, if you were being honest. Thankfully, you were able to maintain a rational and sane mind.

Sane was an overstatement. You were now planning an entire wedding in your head without the engagement ring on your finger. You were anything but sane. Insanity was taking over every single cell in your brain as you stared at Bucky, imagining your future. The thought made you extremely giddy. 

A smile crept up on the corner of your lips as you moved into the warmth of his embrace. His arms tightened around you instinctively, and he let out a soft, contented sigh.

You can’t keep it to yourself as the date starts coming closer and closer. 

Mel, who has graduated as your client and now has become your friend, is sitting in your apartment, telling you about her most recent date with her boyfriend of six months. Not in a way that she would when you were her matchmaker, but as friends would. You find yourself liking this arrangement much, much more.

“Enough about me though,” she grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Tell me about you and Bucky. How are things going?”

“You really wanna talk about the guy that your boss hates?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her as you take a sip out of your own glass.

“I can separate work from girl talk,” Mel said, smiling at you. 

“Well,” you said, smiling at her, “If you’re free the rest of the evening, I was wondering if you wanted to get your nails done with me?”

“Nails?” Mel repeated, raising her eyebrows at you as she brought the glass to her lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I think Bucky’s gonna propose to me on Thursday.”

Her eyes widened as she choked on her wine, the alcohol spluttering back into the glass. You couldn’t hold back a laugh before you jumped to your feet. You turned, rushing to grab paper towels from your kitchen to wipe off her face before it dripped, and stained her clothes. 

“Shit– shit! I’m so sorry,” she coughed, patting her face. 

“It’s okay,” you said between laughter, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Do you– do you want more wine?”

“Do I want– No! What? We need to go to the salon now! One of us needs to drive! Why the hell don’t you have a car again?!”

“Uh… I just… order a ride everywhere, or Bucky drives me,” you answered her, sheepish. “I’ll just order us a ride, we’ve both had a glass already. We don’t need to drive there, Mel.”

“Must be nice–”

A knock on your door makes you both pause. You move, going to check the peephole and find your boyfriend standing there with a box in his hands. You rip the door open, shocked.

“Bucky?” you asked, surprised. “Don’t you have a dinner to get to soon? It’s Tuesday.” 

“Yes, but I wanted to drop this off to you,” he said, giving you a smile. He leaned over the box, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Just a present. Saw it, thought it would look nice on you.”

“What is it?” you asked as he transferred over the gift box to you.

“A dress,” he shrugged. “What are you up to today?”

“Mel’s here,” you said, opening the door further so he could see her. He looked past you, giving her a small wave that you’re certain that she returned back. “We’re about to go get our nails done. I was about to order a ride.”

“Oh? Don’t do that. I’ll just drop you two off. You’ll go the place you always do, right? It’s on the way to the dining hall,” he said.

“What? I don’t want you to be late,” you said, frowning at him. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky insisted, shaking his head. “They can start without me. Talbot is late more than a few times anyways.”

“It’s true,” Mel said from behind you. You turned around to look at her, finding that she was gathering her jacket and purse. “Talbot is always late.”

“See? Thank you, Mel.” There’s a bit of a gloating tone to his voice that makes you smack his arm. Bucky chuckled in response, a smile settling over his face. “Come on now, grab your stuff so we can get down to the car so I’m not too late for the meeting.”

You sighed, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to change his mind and get him to leave you. You put the box on the counter to inspect once you return later, and snatch your purse from where it’s resting on the table. Both you and Mel follow Bucky down to the car. He holds open the back door for both of you to climb into the backseat like he’s your chauffeur, and not your boyfriend.

Bucky drives in silence, you and Mel scrolling through pinterest hurriedly during the car ride for inspiration pictures for your nails while trying to be subtle about the fact that you know that you’re getting proposed to. Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice that you know, though.

Once he pulls up to the salon, Mel thanks him for the ride and slides out. You lean over the console to give him a kiss, and he grabs your hand, stopping you.

His card is slid into your palm, and his lips are pressed against your knuckles.

“I’ll pay for you and Mel,” he said, giving you one more smile.

You want to race down the aisle right at that moment. 

Instead, you get your nails done with Mel, swallow down butterflies that are forcing their way up your throat, and get to the restaurant that Bucky told you to meet him at while he runs late at his last meeting before your date. 

It’s a beautiful skyline restaurant in the middle of New York that your own company can’t even secure a date at. You’ve tried multiple times. In fact, your own clients have wanted to get proposals done at this restaurant. It just couldn’t be done. Reservations were booked out at least a year in advance, and somehow Bucky was able to secure the two of you a spot with two months to spare. 

There’s live music playing here by world renowned musicians. The chefs are even more well known. The lighting was low so that it wouldn’t take away from the view outside the windows. The time of night that Bucky chose was perfect– New York was lit up like stars on the ground from the table that you were sitting at. 

You were dressed in the gift Bucky bought for you. A backless, square neckline gown. The straps came up and wrapped around your neck like a halter top would, and tied around the back in a thin bow, the long straps kissing down your bare spine. It was soft and airy against your skin. 

Bucky arrived earlier than you expected, but you were sure he was still later than he wanted to be. Either way, he still had another bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands for you that you two had placed under the table. Of course, he didn’t take a seat before giving you a kiss for a greeting, and murmuring his apology for not being able to pick you up.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling at you. “I didn’t think you would wear it tonight.”

“I thought you bought it for me to wear tonight?” you asked as he placed the flowers under the table. You watched as he sat down across from you. 

“Mm… Well, I bought it for you to wear,” he said, reaching his hand across the table. You easily slipped your hand into his, watching him bring your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. “When you wear it doesn’t matter to me. I just wanted to get you a present.”

“A present?” you echoed, unable to stop smiling. “Even though you already do so much for me?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t want to do more for you, sweetheart,” he hummed. 

The waiter came by not a moment later, letting you know that the first course would be coming out momentarily. You both thanked him, and returned back to each other. 

“I feel like I don’t see you as much these days,” Bucky said, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. 

“It’s been really busy for the two of us,” you agreed, releasing a soft sigh. 

“I even contemplated hiring you as a matchmaker again, just so I could block out meetings and have you in my office again,” he joked, making you laugh. 

“That would be fraudulent, Congressman,” you teased, shaking your head. “For you and me.”

“What are they gonna do? Threaten to fire you again?” 

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face is firmly planted, and isn’t moving anytime soon. 

“You know our dates don’t always have to be somewhere big or fancy, right?” you tell him, your voice softer.

“So you keep telling me,” he hummed, squeezing your hand a little bit. “I know, sweetheart. You said this to me. Several times. I just want to do this for you. For me, too.”

You soften a little bit at his words. You’re gently reminded of a previous confession he told you from when you first started dating. 

You told him that you were more than happy to just get takeout with him on busier days. To get fast food or something quick, if it meant that you two would have more time to spend together. You didn’t always have to sit down and eat somewhere nice. He said that he knew that, and he liked doing that, too. But as a kid in the forties, he always wanted to be the kind of man that was able to spoil his girl rotten– to bring his woman to the best places and sign the check without batting an eye.

This kind of thing was healing for him, too.

“We can get burgers tomorrow,” Bucky said, giving you a smile. 

“Deal,” you grinned at him. 

The first course of your meal was brought out to the two of you. You two never spoke about work over food. It was your rule. You talked about everything else. Sam. Mel. Your parents and siblings. The conversation Bucky overheard while he was in line getting coffee the other day. 

There was always a lot to talk about when you two never saw each other. Then again, you were certain that you would ever run out of words even if you spent every waking moment with him. If there ever came to be a time when that was the case, you were more than happy to spend the rest of eternity in a peaceful silence with him, as long as you were able to hold him. 

Topics never ran dry between the two of you. More than once, you two needed to remind yourselves to shut the fuck up in this fancy establishment because there were sophisticated people around you having very nice meals. 

“I’ll book a private room next time,” Bucky said under his breath.

“I don’t think they’ll let us come back, babe,” you whispered between soft, gasping laughs. “The host is glaring at us.”

That only made Bucky snort, which made you have to cover your own mouth in return before another fit of giggles wrecked through your body. It took everything in the both of you to compose yourselves before dessert was brought out. 

Once your table was cleared off, and you were left with just your wine glasses and the centerpiece on the table, you and Bucky smiled at each other. You were strangely reminded of your first date with him. So you told him that.

“This reminds you of our first date?” he said, his nose crinkling just slightly. “How so?”

“Mm… The ambiance,” you said, shrugging just a bit. You rested your chin in your palm. “You. Me.”

“It’s always you and me on our dates, sweethearts. Who else would it be?” he sarcastically joked, rolling his eyes at you.

“You know what I mean,” you scoffed at him, watching him smile a bit. “I just… feel a bit nostalgic. Just a… who knew, kinda thing.”

“I knew,” Bucky said, making you pause for a second.

“You knew?” you repeated his words, raising an eyebrow at him. Your heart picked up speed just a little bit. This felt like the start of a speech– the start to the speech.

Bucky cleared his throat, and your chest grew tighter at the sound. He shifted in his seat, and you watched as his hand dipped into his pocket. Oh, shit. It’s coming. Your eyes shot back to his face, and your mouth went dry.

“I thought you were the matchmaker, sweetheart. You didn’t know that we would end up together?” he clicked his tongue at you. “I knew I couldn’t trust a matchmaker that didn’t have a boyfriend of her own.”

“I have a boyfriend now, don’t I?” you asked, but thought– Not for long.

He smiled, eyes meeting yours. Then, a velvet box is produced. Placed right on the table in front of you. You can’t bring yourself to look down at it, not when Bucky is still looking at you.

“I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And it’s getting really fucking hard when I can’t see you all the time because we both live on opposite sides of the city, and have awful work schedules that keep us apart. Even so, I love you so much and I can’t imagine being with anyone else,” he confessed to you. Bucky takes in a deep breath that slightly shakes before he whispers out your name, nervous, “Will you move in with me?”

You freeze.

What the fuck?

“Move in with you?” you echoed, blinking.

Bucky opens the box. It’s a key. A shiny, silver key.

“I bought a penthouse in Manhattan,” Bucky said, sliding the box over to you to inspect the key even closer. “I want to see you more often. Not just the random dates when we both have time– I want to sleep next to you every night, and wake up to you in the mornings.”

“A penthouse… In Manhattan,” you said slowly. 

Your brain was short circuiting. In fact, it was fried. Gone.  You were still staring at the key, lips parted. He… wasn’t proposing to you tonight?

“I’m sorry. Am I– Are we moving too fast?” Bucky suddenly asked you, and you could hear the panic in his voice. 

Your head snapped up to look at him. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, eyes scanning all over your face. You slapped yourself mentally. You could only imagine how you looked just now– staring at him and the key with a blank look on your face, and giving him no answer.

“What? No! No, Bucky– we’re not moving too fast at all,” you reassured him, hands darting across the table to take his hands in yours. “Most couples our age move in together by the first year or so. Mel and her boyfriend are already planning on moving in together when Mel’s lease breaks in a couple months.”

Bucky lets out a breath of relief, and you watch as his shoulders drop. You feel guilt surge through you at the pure stress that is released from his body at that moment.

“God– I just… You know, the penthouse… It’s fully furnished. I’ve been– Sam has been helping me out, actually. He helped me meet with some realtors, get the place fully furnished and decorated,” Bucky said, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ve been living there for the past two and a half months while waiting for all the furniture to come in, and it’s finally all finished as of yesterday and it never occurred to me that you could possibly say no until just now.”

“You’ve been– Is that why you take me back to my apartment after our dates? Instead of yours?” you asked, surprised.

“I already got rid of my other place, sweetheart,” he said, giving you a small, anxious smile. You can see him bouncing his leg up and down just slightly. “Got the penthouse so that we could have enough space for your stuff and mine.”

“You took me out to a fancy dinner, and prepared a speech for me to ask me to move in with you?” you whispered, your heart feeling fuller by the minute.

“I grew up in a time where couples didn’t move in together until after they were married, doll,” Bucky reminded you, his voice small and soft. 

You’re speechless, for just a moment. You take your eyes off of him, to look down at the key in the box, a smile finding its way on your face. You look back up at him, watching as he mirrors your own smile.

“I think it’s time to head home, Congressman.”

Bucky trails behind you quietly as you step into the penthouse. The elevator directly leads to your home– something that you had only ever seen in movies before. You barely took a step into the rest of the home before you were running numbers into your head.

“What’s my share of the bills?” you asked, heart racing as you look up at the high ceilings. “And don’t you dare tell me not to worry about it, Bucky. If we’re living together, then we’re splitting bills. I don’t care that you make more money than me–”

“We’ll talk about finances later, baby,” he cut you off, hands rubbing your shoulders to soothe you. “We’ll split it equally based on our incomes. Just go explore for right now.”

“I don’t know if I can afford this, Bucky,” you said, turning around to look at him. You were freaking out.

“Your salary was put into play when I got this place,” he said, cradling your face. “Sam and I met with the banks. We met with financial advisors to ensure that this would be feasible for both you and me. Please don’t ask how we got your information.”

“Is there a loan–”

“There’s no loan,” he assured you. “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” you answered instantly. 

Bucky gave you a smile, then pressed a kiss to your lips. You melted into his embrace, feeling your worries wash away with just one touch. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back comfortingly. When he pulled away, another kiss was pressed to your forehead. 

“I’ll give you all the documents later to look over. If you still hate it, then we’ll break the lease, and we’ll find somewhere else. I don’t care where we live. I just want to be somewhere that’s with you,” he promised. 

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding. 

Bucky’s hands leave your body, and he steps away from you. He’s quietly urging you to take a look around. 

You had two floors to explore. The elevator opened up the first floor, where there was an open concept condo. You were staring at a living room, kitchen, floor to ceiling windows, and there were built-in shelves on the wall that held Bucky’s books– and had empty spaces for your own books. Down here, there were two doors– one leading to a half bath and the other leading to a home office. 

You saw two desks, separated by a bookshelf. Bucky’s desk was already occupied with his things, while yours was empty and waiting to be used. On the shelf were pictures and other momentos collected by Bucky over the duration of your relationship so far. There was space for you to decorate with whatever you pleased. On the other end of the room was a daybed and some other furniture to cozy up the area. 

Upstairs, there was a platform for another lounge area. Also furnished to hang out in case the two of you ever had any guests come over. Here, your bedroom was behind a closed door. 

A king sized bed was in the middle of the room, along with two nightstands on either side of it. There was a full walk in closet, Bucky already having his stuff hanging on his side with yours waiting to be filled. The windows are touching the floor just like they are outside, and Bucky has the curtains pulled back so you can see the city lights from your bedroom window. 

“What if I get fired?” you whispered, Bucky’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind. “I won’t be able to pay my share of the bills.”

“I’ll pay then,” he said, pressing kisses to your bare shoulder and neck.

“What if you get fired? Or what if you quit? Join Sam and return back to action?” you asked, heart racing. 

Bucky chuckled against your neck, squeezing you against him. 

“Iron Man’s late wife donates a large portion every year to the heroes that do the work. If that’s me, then we’ll be fine,” he promised you. “It’s how Sam gets paid right now.”

“Oh,” you breathed, nodding a little dumbly. You tilted your head to the side, allowing him more access to more skin. You felt him smile against you. 

“You like the place then?”

“I can’t believe you hid this from me.”

“I hide you from the entire American government so you can continue to walk the streets of New York without being asked about politics that you don’t care about. I hid Romania from you. I think I can hide an apartment,” he listed off, scoffing softly at the end.

All of your hair is gathered in one of his hands to get it out of his way as he continues to press dizzying, nipping kisses against your body.

“A penthouse,” you managed to correct.

“Same thing,” he muttered, and you felt him tug on the string of your dress. A moment later, the soft fabric was sliding down your body, and pooling at your feet, “C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta christen the place.”

You’re being turned around to face him, and your arms move to slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. Bucky’s lips met yours in an opened mouthed kiss halfway, tongue gliding over yours easily. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you sighed into his mouth, feeling his hands glide up and down the sides of your body. Something about him being fully dressed, and you with nearly nothing at all did something to the both of you.

Your fingers grabbed onto the collar of his dress shirt, tugging him into a deeper, needier kiss. Bucky groaned into your mouth in response, hands finding purchase on the flesh of your ass. His fingers dug into the supple skin, making you moan softly as he groped you.

Your boyfriend gently pushed you until your back was pressed against the window. Once you were situated where he wanted you, Bucky parted from your lips, only to attach himself to your neck once again. He kept shifting, moving down to your collarbones, your chest, your sternum. Lower. 

You watched helplessly, every inch of you thrumming with desire and need as Bucky slowly shifted to his knees in front of you. His hands moved down your body, dragging your underwear down your legs as he positioned himself to sit back on his feet, thighs spread just a bit for comfort. You’re certain your breathing was erratic as you stared at him.

Usually, you were the one on your knees for Bucky. This was different– this was new. You were more than certain that you would still be the one at his mercy.

“Don’t your feet hurt in these heels?” Bucky asked, hand closing around one of your ankles to lift your foot off the ground slightly. “They look uncomfortable. Very tall.”

“It’s not too bad,” you whispered, unable to trust your voice to speak any louder. “I like these shoes.”

“I bought them for you,” he said, tilting his head as he examined the design a little closer.

“That’s why I like them,” you murmured.

Bucky chuckled just a little bit, shaking his head. He moved slowly on purpose, undoing the strap around your ankle and slowly pulling it off of your foot like you were some sort of princess. He gently led your foot back down to the floor, keeping an eye on your posture to make sure you didn’t suddenly fall from the shift in height. When he was certain that you were stable, he switched over to the next foot, repeating the same process.

Except, he didn’t put your foot back onto the ground. Bucky lifted your leg higher, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle, eyes closing as he did. When they opened, he met your gaze, never looking away as his kisses went higher and higher up your leg. He settled your knee to hook around his shoulder, moving to fully kneel before you as his hands went to grab your waist, keeping you pressed against the glass behind you. A firm, tight grip. 

You wouldn’t be able to run from whatever he was about to do to you. Not that you would ever want to.

If he wasn’t holding you up, you were certain you would’ve folded over and collapsed the second his tongue met your heat. The vibrations from the groan sent shockwaves through your entire body that made you tremble above him, hands darting to grab onto his shoulders for an extra form of stability as his tongue parted your folds and flattened against you.

“Shit, Bucky,” you moaned, your mind going blank. All you could feel was him. 

His tongue dipping just slightly in and out of your aching hole, only to drag up to your sensitive clit to swirl figure eights around the nub. Bucky’s hands on your torso, his thumbs  drawing circles into your skin to soothe you against the stimulation he was giving you. The heat of his body radiating against yours from where he was positioned beneath you. 

“Your pussy is squeezing around nothing, baby,” he murmured, pulling away from your core for just a moment, a whine ripping through your throat in response. Bucky clicked his tongue at you, and kissed the inside of your thigh to subdue you. “Have I been neglecting you? Not fucking you enough for you to be so needy?”

Definitely not. Maybe it was the fact that everything was crashing down on you. The fact Bucky went so far to secure the two of you an entire home without you knowing, furnishing the whole place, meeting with financial advisors– all of it made you incredibly desperate for him. 

It was like that one time when you watched him do the dishes for the first time at the beginning of your relationship. He was at your apartment, doing your dishes that you were too lazy to do before he came over. You don’t know what the hell happened to you at that moment, but you just watched him. The second the water turned off, you were unzipping his pants and giving him head. It confused him, but he also wasn’t complaining. 

“I’m always needy for you,” you barely managed to answer him.

Bucky’s lips parted, eyes scanning your figure above him for a few moments. Then, one of his hands left your waist, and two fingers were shoved into you without a single warning. 

A moan ripped through your throat, and you weren’t given a chance to even recover before his mouth was back on your clit, sucking and flicking at the sensitive nub. His fingers entered and exited you at a delicious speed, and he could feel you coming apart around him. Your body was beginning to tremble, walls beginning to shake– and he curled his fingers the way he knew you liked.

You came undone, Bucky’s hand moving to press against your stomach to keep you from collapsing forward. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you whimpered his name, tugging on his hair weakly to pull away from your overstimulated body. 

Reluctantly, he released you. Bucky’s hands never left you as he stood, keeping you upright. Your legs were still shaking when you had both feet on the ground, but fuck if you were going to let Bucky stay dressed. 

You had every intention of returning the favor once Bucky was just as bare as you were. Bucky saw it in your eyes, too. The way your gaze dropped down his torso to his cock that was stiff and high up against his stomach, waiting for you. You barely moved your hair to the side before you were being spun back around, chest pressed to the glass– eyes to the view of the New York city skyline. 

“Next time, doll,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade that made you shiver. You let out a small moan as you felt him drag the length of his dick through your folds, coating himself in your slick to get him ready to enter. “Gotta be inside you right now or I might go insane.”

“Hurry up, then,” you whined to him, pressing your ass back further into him. A mistake, and you knew it. Not that it really was a mistake on your end though.

His hand came around from your stomach, gripping your throat and jaw, pulling you back into him. Your back was arched, hands resting on the glass for some sort of security in the position he had you in. Bucky forced your head to turn, to look at him. 

Bucky wanted to watch your face contort with pleasure as he finally slid in, watch as you fell apart as he speared you full with his cock. There was a look of satisfaction and fucking arrogance in his eyes with the way your mouth fell open in a noiseless moan. Bucky took advantage of it, shoving his tongue into your mouth to swallow up any of the noises that he knew would start coming once his hips started moving.

You couldn’t keep up– not with his kiss, not with the pacing– not with anything that was happening right now. His hips were snapping into yours at such a brutal pace, his metal hand gripping your hip to keep you in place, and you barely managed to pull away from his lips to breathe. 

“So good– so good,” he groaned as you turned back to the glass, chin falling to your chest for a moment as you moaned in response. 

Bucky didn’t let your head hang for too much longer. He pulled your head back up to look out the window, and you could feel his breath against your ear as he continued to pound his hips from behind you.

“Isn’t the view so nice, baby?” he whispered to you.

“Wh… what?” you moaned, mind spiraling for just a moment.

“It’s so nice,” he continued, grunting behind you, “I know your pussy loves it– loves it when I fuck you in front of all of New York to see.”

Excitement shoots through you, and you unexpectedly clamped around him. Bucky’s hips stuttered as he cursed softly. You were close– again– and Bucky wasn’t making this any better for you. Then again, you almost just brought Bucky over the edge with you.

“Shit. I knew you were a fucking freak when you tried giving me head in front of my coworkers,” Bucky muttered, a small laugh falling from his lips.

“Bucky,” you whimpered. “I’m so close–”

“It’s too bad. New York can’t have you,” he cut you off, pulling out of you. 

The sense of loss is immediate, but not for long. Once more, he’s spinning you around. This time, he’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing at all. Your legs are wrapping around his waist immediately, and he’s sinking you back down on his length within seconds. 

Your lips are collided with Bucky as he’s fucking you against the window now, holding you up in his arms as you hang onto him for dear life. Your fingernails are digging into the muscles of his shoulders, scratching down his chest in a way that he once admitted that he loves, and you’re moaning into each other’s mouths.

The thrusts are growing sloppier as the kiss grows messier– there’s no need for words between the two of you anymore. You both know your tells at this point.

Bucky angles his hips just slightly to hit that one spot in you, forcing you over the edge as his own orgasm threatens to take him. Your body seizes, and you can’t kiss him back anymore. Bucky busies himself with your neck, leaving marks on your skin as he fucks you through your high, chasing his own that comes just moments later, coating your walls and dripping down onto the new floors of your new room together.

You’re still panting and trying to catch your breath, head dropped onto his shoulder when Bucky moves, carrying you to the bathroom to clean up. His kisses are softer as he walks over, his words more gentle. His body separates from yours as he rests you on the edge of the bathtub so he can start the water to fill the tub.

“How’s the view?” Bucky asked you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

A soft laugh rips through you, and you can feel him smile against your skin.

“The view is perfect, handsome.”

You didn’t find a single number out of place in the documents he presented you either. You took an entire weekend going over the numbers while Bucky watched you quietly. He didn’t bother you while you did so. In fact, he just stayed nearby and took the days off work, too. Bucky answered any questions that you possibly could’ve had for him, already knowing what you would’ve thrown his way.

Which only made your heart grow fonder for him, if you were being honest. He knew you like the back of his hand.

Once you were satisfied with everything, he helped you move all your stuff from your previous apartment over to your new home. Bucky timed the move in perfectly– your lease was about to break the following month, so you had just the right amount of time to tie up all your loose ends. 

All you really had to move over to the new place was your wardrobe, books, and sentimentals. You found out very quickly that during your random dates where Bucky would come home with you, he started taking stock of all your little things around the house. Anything that was running low, he just went ahead and bought so it was already at your new home, ready for you to use.

The last couple weeks were spent with you listing all your unneeded furniture up on the marketplace for an extra few bucks. Things like your dining table, sofa, coffee table– everything that Bucky had already bought and decorated for your home together. 

“You know this couch?” Sam asked you as he flopped down on it. “And the coffee table? The rug? Those barstools? The fucking light fixtures?”

You and Bucky invited him and his girlfriend over for dinner for a small celebration– a little get together to commemorate the fact that you and Bucky were officially fully moved in together now. 

“What about it?” you asked, handing him a bottle of beer.

“I picked it. Me. Bucky just swiped his card. You’re so fucking lucky, matchmaker. Your boyfriend sucks. If I wasn’t there– shit. You would’ve had clashing colors and patterns in this luxury penthouse,” Sam scoffed, taking a long swig. “I had a fucking headache just standing there. The sales associate thought we were married the way I was arguing with him in the store.”

“You two basically are,” you said, grinning against the rim of your own bottle.

“Don’t say that,” Bucky muttered, a shudder running through his body. “I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life with that idiot.”

“God, I’m glad we agree,” Sam groaned, shaking his head. 

“We picked more neutral stuff,” Bucky told you, sitting beside you on the couch. An arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. “We thought it would be easier for you to add whatever additions or colors you’d want in the future.”

“Oh, so you did think about me when you purchased an entire penthouse and furnished the whole damn thing without telling me,” you teased. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “Yes, sweetheart. I thought of you.”

With the two of you living together now, it was easier for you both to see each other. You reveled in the fact you could fall asleep every night in his arms, even if you went to bed first. He didn’t want you waiting for him if he had an event that had him staying out late, but you would often wake up to him pulling you into his embrace.

In the mornings, Bucky would usually be the one to wake up and leave first. 

You no longer set an alarm on your phone. Bucky’s sweet kisses were your wake up call every morning. He wouldn’t leave until you kissed him back, no matter how long it took you to wake up. 

“Morning,” you would whisper to him.

“Morning,” he’d reply, kissing you one more time for good measure. “I made you breakfast. It’s on the table.”

“Wake me up earlier tomorrow so I can eat with you,” you whined to him, though you just rolled over on your side, closing your eyes again.

Bucky chuckled, leaning over your body to press a kiss to your temple. You sighed, letting the morning wash over you for just one more moment before you pushed up off the bed. You’d follow him downstairs, watch him grab his blazer off the seat of the dining table, and you’d tie his tie for him at the door.

“I’ll be home early tonight. I don’t have any events today,” you said, smoothing out the fabric on his chest.

“You’ve been coming home early every night,” he said, raising his eyebrow at you.

“So have you, Congressman. Almost like there’s something you’re running from. Something you’re avoiding at work?” you teased, smiling at him.

“No. Just trying to get home to you,” he hummed, smoothing out your bedhead with both hands before he held your face gently to kiss you one more time before he went off into the world.

This was your new daily morning routine. 

The trade off on coming home early meant that you still had to do work when you came home. Both of you. However, Bucky seemed to plan for that, which is why he had a room specifically made for a home office for the two of you. 

You two would spend your evenings there before dinner for a few hours, finishing up any work that you weren’t able to do at your respective offices. You two would be silently working on your own jobs.

You, researching your clients preferences and trying to match them up based on their profiles. You would also be looking up the best date spots, trying to keep up with the latest trends for dating, and making sure that you weren’t falling behind on anything else.

Bucky would be going through packets upon packets of different meetings that he would have attended. There were several different duties that he had acquired since you first started dating, and there were a lot of responsibilities that he had started shouldering. You were certain that he was also helping Sam on the side, though he couldn’t tell you full details as per usual. 

Usually, you would stop working when you heard Bucky stop working and open the door to the office. He normally ordered food for the two of you, and would go out to the lobby to pick it up, and bring it back for you two to eat.

It was your signal to put everything down, and relax with him for the rest of the night.

You heard him close his binder, heard the wheels of his chair roll backwards, but you didn’t hear the elevator open and close to signify his departure down. You shook it off– wondering if he just went off to the bathroom or something.

Then, you felt him behind you. 

Bucky’s chest was pressed against your back, enveloping you in his warmth. His hands were on your shoulders, and as always, the left side of your body was colder from the touch of his metal prosthetic. 

“Hi, handsome,” you said, a smile coming onto your face. “Is it time for dinner?”

“Almost. Delivery is on its way,” he answered you.

His hands slid down your shoulders, goosebumps rising on your bare skin as his hands moved all the way down to cover your own hands. He left his hands on top of yours, and you hummed, happy to feel him all over you for just a moment. Bucky’s head pressed against the side of yours, then he dropped his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to give him more space to rest. He took it, burrowing deeper into you.

“Yeah. Just a little nervous,” he murmured into your skin, taking a breath. 

You were about to ask him what he was talking about, to turn around and look at him properly. Then, you felt his hands slide up just a little bit, resting now on your wrists instead of covering your hands completely. Except, there was a weight he left behind that wasn’t there before. Your eyes shifted downwards, and your breath caught in your throat at the ring he slipped onto your finger– the cool metal that he masked with the metal of his own arm.

Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes widened at the sparkling star on your finger. Bucky plucked this thing out of the fucking sky– he had to. There was no way. 

“Marry me, sweetheart?” he asked softly. There was a slight tremor to his voice that you caught. A slight shaking in his right hand that you could feel. 

You couldn’t repeat what you did at the restaurant, make him freak out with worry over your quiet shock and silence.

Your sudden jolt into standing surprised him, but he didn’t seem to mind when you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, then his cheeks, his eyes– everywhere you could as tears were beginning to well up and spill over. You couldn’t help it. You felt Bucky’s anxiety release with each kiss, his hands resting on your waist to hold you against him.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, smiling at you.

“Why would I ever say no to you?” you demanded, making him laugh. “Fuck– I thought you were going to propose to me at the restaurant when you asked me to move in with you!”

“The restaurant?” Bucky asked, blinking. “What– really?”

“Yes!” you nodded, wiping your tears away roughly. Bucky caught your hands, putting them down to your sides so he could wipe your tears away in a more gentle way with his thumbs.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said, looking appalled. “Do you know how many times you have ranted to me about the fact you hate restaurant proposals? You hate planning them, and you hate watching them. Why would I ever propose to you in a restaurant?”

“If it was you, then I would have changed my mind about it right away!” you argued with him, stubborn. “If it was you, you could’ve proposed to me with a candy ring, and I still would have said yes! We can elope– I don’t need a fancy wedding or anything. I just– just you. I just want you, Bucky.”

You watched as his eyes softened for you as he looked all over your features. You were certain that you looked like a mess right now, but you were finding it harder to believe that with the way he was looking at you right now. He looked as if you were the one that created the universe, and solved all his problems. There was nothing but admiration, love, joy. These were eyes that only you had the privilege to see. 

A smile came onto his face, one that you adored. A smile that you were going to be able to have for the rest of your life.

“Well, I’m your fiancé now, but you’ve already had me from the beginning, doll,” he said, “I’ve had this ring for over a year now, actually.”

“A year?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to ask,” he admitted, a bit sheepish. “And just… right now. It felt right.”

“Me working in the same room as you felt right?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at your blatant sarcasm. Except, he’s still smiling. He never gives you a real attitude. He wouldn’t dare. He loves you too much to ever do that.

“The fact that we’re both able to do our own thing in silence, but still be together felt right. We don’t need to speak. We don’t need to be touching. Don’t get me wrong, I love all those things, but… When I looked over at you just now— I felt at peace. Peace that I never thought I was ever allowed to have. So yes, it felt right.”

You’re about to cry again. You’re about to start fucking ugly sobbing in your boyfriend– your fiancé’s arms. You have a thousand things to say, but you know none of them will make sense right now. So, you bury your face in his chest and hug him tight, his arms coming to hold you even closer to him. 

“I love you,” you settled with, your voice breaking slightly.

“I love you, too,” he chuckled in response.

You listened to his chest rumble with laughter under your ear, felt his head rest against the side of yours. He led your bodies in a gentle sway, rocking the two of you back and forth. He took in a breath, releasing it slowly in a contented way. 

Your mind is racing still, and you ask one single question– just one to get his opinion. 

“Where should we get married?” you whispered to him. 

Bucky’s quiet for a few moments. A few moments too long. You pull back from him to look at his face, finding a smile on his lips, and a small sparkle in his eyes.

“I have some friends that want to meet you. Do you think you’re up to traveling to Wakanda?”

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy @star-yawnznn let me know if you would like to join my general bucky taglist for whenever i post a fic!

[thisrots]

prompt: how to have sex?

jinx x fem!reader

𖦹 warnings/synopsis: study sesh with the school (virgin) nerd who has a weird obsession with you gone… right? college au, loser/perv/nerdy!jinx x fem/cheerleader/popular!reader, sub-ish!top!jinx, power-ish!bottom!reader, strap usage, squirting, size-ish kink?, some (very little) pain receiving, that’s ab it me thinks

𖦹 word count: 2.2k (i did NOT mean to make it this long💔)

“I—uh, don’t really know what to do with all… this.” Jinx poked at the hot pink member that hung between her slim thighs, cheeks painted a pretty pink as she watched it bounce back up. Her pert tits were on display, only wearing a pair of black little lace panties. Her glasses were holding on by a thread, scrunching up her nose to scooch them back up.

This was supposed to be a study session. I mean, the books were laid out all over the floor, papers and pens ready to be used. Yet somehow, someway, Jinx ended up naked and strapped up (with your strap on, keep in mind) in the middle of your room.

“Jeez, aren’t you supposed to be a smart girl, Jinx?” You mocked, taking slow steps over to her, pulling her jaw back up to you. You scoffed lightly, pushing her glasses back up for her, staring into those big baby blues. Your other hand ran down her happy trail, vanilla white skin erupting into goosebumps, gripping onto the length.

“You fuck me with it. That’s what you do.”

“Well—obviously! I-I know that,” She huffed, gulping down her nerves the best she could, gaze lingering back down to the foreign object. She’d dreamt of this day for so long, the constant stares at your plush ass and spilling-out-the-shirt boobs, sneaking into the locker room to sniff your day worn clothes while you cheered, taking it as far as creating a ritual of only imagining you late at night when she fucked herself stupid against her fingers, wishing she was knuckle deep in you instead.

Just for her to of course, like the perverted loser she was, not know what the fuck to do to you.

“Just, don’t know how to—uh, motion with the ocean, if you get what I mean, heh.”

God, was she a painful virgin. Poor thing had only ever touched herself before you. So really, how could you expect her to know what to do with someone like you? You sighed, rolling your eyes as you began to discard items of clothing one by one.

“Alright, alright…”

Jinx watched in awe, doe eyes lighting up the second your boobs bounced out of your shirt, gawking at every jiggle and movement of them. She followed your curves down, admiring every bit of you she could before you looked back at her, choking on her spit as she quickly looked away.

A sly smile formed on your lips, I mean, you weren’t oblivious. You knew full well she was completely whipped, tight around your finger like a perfectly tied ribbon.

“Guess you’ll be the one learning today, nerd.”

Sure, maybe Jinx didn’t know what she was doing, but fuck was she eager. You laid there, hands holding your thighs up and apart, giving Jinx the perfect view of your slick cunt.

You could’ve sworn her eyes popped out of her head the second you pulled your legs up, wide eyed excitement shown all across her face, slit nice and spread, glistening hole already dripping against your sheets, the head of the toy pressing against your velvet entrance.

She’d always imagined what your pussy would look like. The different angles of it, how your clit would greet her excitedly every time she spread your legs apart, sticking her tongue in between your sticky strings of arousal, having the perfect mental image of how warm and inviting those slippery, wet folds would be.

Safe to say, she’s got pretty spot on imagination.

“You breathing okay over there?” You teased, legs reaching over to rest your ankles on her shoulders, lightly tapping the side of her head with your foot. “Go ahead. Thrust your hips forward, push it inside.”

She shook her head, gulping harshly, letting out nervous giggles as her clammy hands gripped onto your thighs. “R-Right, right. Just gotta—uh, push it inside! Easy enough, right? Yeah—heh, yeah. I-I’ll count to three. One, two—”

You groaned out, eyes rolling from her slowness. “My Goooddd! Jinx, I swear if you don’t jus—” Your sentence was cut short by her pelvis slamming into your walls, whole ten incher slipping right into you, a strangled gasp caught in your throat as the tip just barely poked at your cervix. “Mhhhfff! Fuck, warn a girl, would you?!”

“Shit—‘M sorry, sorry! Are you okay? Just, thought you wanted me to get it over with! S-So I figured—”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Your lungs filled with a deep breath, collecting yourself before letting it back out through your mouth. “Y-You’re already inside. Now you have to thrust, slowly. Got it?”

Jinx nodded quickly, staring at you through her lenses, the grip around her fingers denting at your plush skin. Slowly, but surely, she pulled her hips back, bucking them forward, creating a rhythm as you instructed her with every little movement, sharp eyes watching your hole as it gripped around it, sucking her in for more.

“H-Holy shit, ‘M really fucking you—ahh!—shit, s’tight…!”

She was panting now, trying her best to not falter her pace. That was one thing about Jinx—she’s always been a fast learner. Your pussy was making obscene noises, ones she’d only heard in the porn videos she constantly rubbed her pussy raw to, completely melting against you as her lips pressed up against your calf, moaning into it with each thrust. Your jugs were bouncing with each fuck inside you, nipples hard and staring right back at her.

And you? You sounded like an angel, soft groans and cute whimpers repeatedly playing over and over in her head like a broken record. She could feel her little hole leaking out more and more by the second, painting a picture perfect memory of your fucked out expression in her brain for future usage.

This—no, you were definitely better than any porn she’d ever seen. And all you were doing was lying there, taking her cock beautifully, creating the most delectable aroma of sweat mixed with your juices—the same tang she’d savored when she stuffed her freckled button nose into your slutty little panties. You should really start using a lock, you know.

“S-Speed up a little, would you?” You commanded, biting into your bottom lip as she did so. Eager little thing looked like a dumb mutt that was humping a toy for the first time, moaning more than you were at this point, her whole body shaking from the adrenaline. She was adorable, glasses foggy and pushed up against her face as she kitten licked your calf. Bangs messily stuck onto her forehead, and you just knew her pink little clit jumped with each grind against the leather.

“That’s it, t-there we go—Nghh!—Oh, fuck—!”

Jinx, unknowingly, had just found your g-spot. Your eyes rolled back, heavenly pleasure filling your body, hands full of your sheets the second her head poked at the spongy wall. She gasped lightly, hips stuttering as she looked at you with fearful eyes.

“W-What just happened? Did that hurt? Was that too rough? I-I’m sor—”

“N-No! Don’t—don’t stop, okay? That was good, so good. Want you to fuck me right there. Can you do that, my smart girl, huh?” Your eyes gleamed with desire, making a little ‘c’mere’ motion at her, watching as her petite body hovered over yours. You pulled her glasses off, tossing them aside, cupping her flushed cheeks in your hands.

“I believe in you, ‘kay? Fuck me hard and rough. ‘Cause let’s face it,” Your thumb ran over her pouty bottom lip, smirking softly, whispering tauntingly, “You and I both know how much you’ve always wanted to fuck this pussy, pervert.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have riled the girl up like that, because as soon as those words slipped out of your mouth, you saw something switch behind her pupils. Something red, scolding hot, yet so fucking hungry for more. She suddenly pulled herself back up, pushing your thighs up against your chest, leaning over you as she began to roughly drill against that rigid and addictive spot over, and over, and over.

And oddly enough, you didn’t resist. Your body wanted this, to be used as nothing but a fuckdoll, ankles jelly like as they flopped against her shoulders. You were sure she was bruising your insides, the lanky girl being stronger than you thought. Her abs flexed with every grind, powerful hands holding your thighs in place and leaving purple marks against your skin.

This little loser of yours was fucking dangerous.

“I-I’ll—hnng!—fuck you so good, toots, s’fuckin’ good you won’t want anyone else to fuck you ever a—hah!—gain!”

Your swollen bud was twitching at her in morse code, telling her how much fucked out pleasure you were in. Your loud moans and mewls echoed in the room, Jinx’s whines and raspy grunts bouncing off of them, and who could forget the deliciously lewd sound of her hips slapping against your now cream spilling cunt?

“This is my pussy, isn’t it? Listen to her—mm!—all weepy ‘n slutty for me! Stuffin’ you up, real nice ‘n full… Yeah, yeah this is allllll mi—”

“J-Jinx! Hnnggg! Shut—the hell—up!”

Who would’ve known such a quiet, innocent looking thing would be such a goddamn blabber mouth during sex? Or worse—such an undeniable little freak? It was totally no secret that she was a porn obsessed weirdo, sounding like she’d come straight out of a badly directed scene.

Admittedly, you always wanted her too. You’d secretly wear provocative outfits because you knew damn well she’d lock eyes with your curves and blur out the world around her. Once you even wore your cheerleading uniform without under shorts, making her spill her energy drink the second you bent over because you’d ‘accidentally dropped your pencil’. It was amusing, her painful desperation, and you’d make sure to take every single last one of her virginities. But of course, you were nice enough to start off with her fantasy:

Fucking you so good you forgot your own name.

And she was doing exactly that. Your gummy walls spasmed around her, watching as the bulge of the toy disappeared only to pop back up against your abused cervix, moans choppy and ripping out from your chest. Your brain had turned into mush, whorishly fuckdrunk as your lidded eyes hazily looked up at her, watching Jinx lose herself completely inside you. Her tongue was lapped out, drool dripping along your swollen tits, her slimy wetness dampening up her panties, practically dripping at the seams.

“F-Fuck—Ugh, y-you’re totally—guhh!!—drooling all—over—me!”

She strained out a reply, just barely, too busy focusing on your jugs and sloppy pussy to really give much of a fuck. “Mmhhmm…! I know, ‘m sorry, c-can’t—help it! So hot, y-you’re so fuckin’ hot, doll face. Totally g-gonna cum from this—mmfff!”

Your head whipped up, jaw slacked from her words, scoffing as you furrowed your eyebrows at her. “Y-You’re gonna cum?! Seriously?!”

“Oh—Ohoh, fuck y-yes I am!” Jinx started, letting out tiny snickers as her puffy bundle of nerves screamed out in pleasure, sliding up and down along the harness. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, cum with me. C-Cum with me, yeah? I’m right there—!”

Your hands tugged on her messy, long braids, her face twisting up as a pathetic moan escaped her lips from the pain, guiding your sweet puppy into your climax. Your orgasm sparked deep in your lower stomach, breath coming in and out quickly, pressure building up as your walls fluttered around her length.

Fuck, was Jinx irritating. Her inexperience was annoying, the way she fucked was annoying, even the way she was about to make you absolutely gush all over her was so, undeniably, fucking hot.

Wait, what?

“Oh, that’s it! Jinx—‘m fucking coming! Coming so—hmmmgghh!—h-hard—!”

You could’ve sworn in that moment, all you saw were stars exploding all around your head. Your orgasm was shameless, brutal, gut fucking wrenchingly good. Other people had fucked you, sure, but this was the best sex you’d ever had. And you did not say that lightly, nor would you say it out loud. Ever.

Your cunt spewed out spurts of warm liquid all over Jinx, more and more drenching her cream colored skin with each buck, completely scratching up her arms as she milked every last drop of squirt you had in you.

“Yeah, yeah, y-yeah, ohhhh—fuuhhcckk yeaaahh!” Her eyes rolled back, gutturally moaning out, gaped teeth sinking into her bottom lip, filling up her poor panties with her oozing substance. It stuck onto her swollen pussy lips, painting the inside of her pretty thighs white. If this is how she came from simply fucking you, you really couldn’t imagine how she’d be once you took a turn on her.

She pulled out soon after, her dead body weight falling right onto yours, huffing loudly.

“Oh, gross! You’re all sweaty and drooly, get off!” You lightly pushed her, to which she did not budge. “Jinx! Off! Now!”

“Mm, I did a lot of work, cut me some slack!” She started, really only not wanting to get up because her face was completely stuffed in between your boobs, giggling to herself.

“You know, I can totally help you study from down here, sweets.”

(p.s. she totally snuck ur panties in her backpack n took them home with her. you know, as a keepsake <3)

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari rubbed her eyes with a soft sniffle and took a breath. Hawks words and presences had helped her calm down. Sure the pain still lingered, but it didn't hurt as much. "I... I wanna keep going. No, I need to keep going." She chirped softly after a moment. "I can't just stop now. Not yet." She informed and turned back to look over more hero logs for her father.

Training logs showing his improvement, journals that dated before Kari's birth, interviews, news reports, and so on. Eventually Kari stopped on a journal entry dated a few weeks after Kari's birth.

"August 5, I brought Kari home for the first time. She's gained a bit of weight which is good. She's such an active little girl. Kitearo was immediately so protective despite how he acted before. I guess seeing how small she was and having processed what happened helped him a lot. Therapy has been a huge help for all of them. Shade us still sneaking top shelf books when I'm not looking, last time I saw her reading Moby Dick to Kari and immediately stepped in. We made an agreement that if she didn't read these to Kari then I'd allow her to read certain top shelf books with supervision. She's enjoying spending time with Kari, reading her books while she's is in Shade's lap. Boom and Beats always love to play with Kari, running around happily with toys and including Kati in their games. Flo shows Kari a ton of different plants, mainly flowers. Fino likes to have Kari ride on his back while in a random animal form. I feel like these kids will super close when they're older. Sure they'll get into arguments and maybe even fights, but thats life. I'm just happy it looks like things are gonna be alright. Still waiting for Boom and Beats to get their quirks, I'm not sure what they'll be since Mikomi's quirk is so different. She never explained why, but I have a rough understanding. Either way, I've made up my mind and I'll help with hero work in some other way, but I'll be retiring as a pro hero before Kari's first birthday. I can't risk it right now, there is too much at stake. I'll keep doing my best for them. - Lynx Himura."

Kari gave a soft smile then went to type in her mother's hero name and began looking through the hero logs there. Eventually she came across an interview, roughly around the same time as Lynx, though it was off by a few days.

"Hello, thank you for meeting with us, Angelic."

"Of course, I'm glad I could make it work. Been super busy and all." Mikomi laughed. Her eyes, while a different color, were roughly the same shape as Kari's. Though Kari's were a bit more pointed and Mikomi's slightly more rounded. But it was easy to see the resemblance.

"Yea, you've been very busy it seems. Your already the number six hero and you're still pretty young. Any insight as to why you're working do hard?"

"Ah, going for that question already. Fair enough. Well, it's kinda has to do with my quirk being so easy to... adapt to different situations so I can help out in many areas. So I'm able to be noticed more often and so on. That and I just like helping. It feels right to me. Don't get me wrong the money is nice too but I'm not wanting for anything. I'm actually only using what I need and saving the rest for future emergencies or plans."

"You planning on starting a family?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll never let that information slip. I'm aiming high after all. If I have kids and I'm in the top three, their lives could be in danger so I'm keeping stuff like that close to my chest." Mikomi looked to the camera and smiled knowingly almost, in Kari's direction. Kari shivered a bit.

"Thats fair," the reporter hummed off camera and Mikomi looked back at the reported. "Now, about your quirk--"

"Sorry but I'm not divulging information about my quirk either." Mikomi was quick to interrupt. "I know it is different and rather weird but I'd like to keep that to myself as well."

"Ah, I see. Well, what about your relationship with Redone?"

"Oh, I--" Mikomi blushed a bit with a grin. "Well, it's a long story but after moving back from America, I had to go cuz of my mom's job, we reconnected in highschool and haven't really been apart since. He's really sweet and caring. We've been together for a while actually."

"Can we plan on a hero wedding anytime soon?"

"Ya know, I watched his interview last week and I tried asking him when he came by with the sweet buns. He just laughed and told me he'd propose when the time is right. I'm not sure when but I'm sure everyone will be made aware eventually." Mikomi chuckled softly. The interview went on, more questions, some dodged some answered. But all in all Kari got a good feel for Mikomi's personality. Kind but firm, not willing to take bullshit but not rude either. Stands her ground and proud of it.

Kari smiled and went on to find some missions, training logs, and a family tree. Kari widened her eyes. There she was with her siblings, her mother, her father, even her grandparents. There was Maica, Core, Core's father. Her whole family.

Looks like Lynx had two younger brothers one of which was deceased while the other was still alive but no where in Japan and no contact information listed and he looked to be estranged. Lynx's parents were listed too though his father passed away the same year as one if his brothers while Lynx's mother passed two years before Kari was born. Kari frowned, concluding an accident happened that took Lynx's father and brother. She shook it off and opened up a journal from her mother, taking a breath.

"I'm simply writing this so it is on record in case something happens to me and one of my children develops my quirk-" Kari perked up a bit. "I don't know if it'll come to that but dad said it's better safe than sorry. He probably knows something since we share a quirk and all. Thats besides the point. I plan on having this under heavy lock and key until I die or if one of my children requests it or whatever. I'm not the best with formal stuff but I'll try my best. Either way, I am Mikomi Himura. Mother to Kitearo Himura, wife to Lynx Himura. My quirk is called All of the Above. It is a highly adaptive quirk, able to integrate any other quirk upon seeing it, though it takes time. My DNA is very unstable for lack of a better way of putting it. My son's quirk is vastly different to mine. Well, it's going to be, he hasn't developed it yet but I already know. Sir Nighteye's quirk has been super helpful in calming the nerves of a new mother. For the most part at least, but I'm keeping that close to my chest for now."

Kari shivered a bit, having a feeling she knew what Mikomi was referring to but kept reading.

"As for the specifics of my quirk, I'm able to use a quirk I've copied with in a certain length of time after seeing it, depending on the type. A week or two for emmiter quirks, two to three weeks for transformation and accumulation quirks, and four weeks for mutation quirks. I don't just copy the quirk, but a snap shot of the person as well for lack of a better way of putting it. It can be refreshed if I see that person again but yea. Ugh this is more difficult to explain than I thought. Uh, the reason there is a snap shot is because I can call on it to help learn quirks more effectively, they take over my body and I learn through muscle memory. The quirks I have copied as well as the snap shots of the people will be passed on to which ever of my children inherits my quirk but those quirks will be locked until certain things are met, I'm not sure how that all works. Dad hasn't explained it and I haven't figured it out. It's weird to explain and better to show but I don't plan on dying so ill be able to show my kid when the time comes. Regardless, this is just a precaution and I don't plan on needing it. With that I'm closing this journal."

Kari blinked, moving to look through more journal entries. Some where around the time she was pregnant with her siblings. Then another caught Kari's eye.

"It's July 20th today. I'm feeling pretty weak from this pregnancy. Little Kari is really sapping me, but that's fine. I've had six kids before her so I'll be okay. But I'm not gonna lie this one has been rougher than all the others so I'm a bit worried. My due date isn't for another two month so it's fine."

"July 25th, something isn't right. I asked Lynx to take me to the hospital to have a check up. I might need emergency surgery. Kari might be born sooner than expected."

After that journal entry Kari found an obituary for her mother. "Number 3 hero dies for unspecified reasons." It lists the funeral date as well as other information.

Kari sighed softly, going over to Hawks and clinging to him, shaking and crying in weak sobs. She just needed a moment to process it all. "I... I know it's not my fault... but a part... A part if me still... still hurts." Kari hiccuped, nuzzling into Hawks' leg, just letting it all out. "I wanna know her. Who would she have been? What would be going on right now if she were alive? Why did she have to die cuz of me? It's not fair." The child cried, trying to hold back a bit but still needing to let out some emotions before continuing, if she even wanted to.

Hawks stood beside Kari the whole time, his usual laid-back expression softened into something quiet and pained. He didn’t say much while she clicked through the files—he didn’t need to. His hand gripped hers back just enough to remind her he was there, grounding her, steady and real in a space full of shadows from the past.

When Kari tried to lighten the mood at the end, Hawks crouched down a little to her level and gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His expression didn’t shift into pity—it never did. Instead, it was the expression of someone who understood, who had lived through too many ghosts of his own.

“Two pounds, huh?” he murmured with a gentle smile. “And now look at you. Tough enough to face all this head-on, brave enough to want answers even when you knew they’d hurt. That kind of strength? That’s rare, Kari. That’s hero stuff.”

He let the words settle before continuing, his thumb brushing over her knuckles where their hands were still locked together.

“Your dad loved you. All of you. You can feel it in every word he wrote—even when things were falling apart, his thoughts were on keeping you safe. That’s not something a lot of kids get to grow up knowing. But you? You’ve got that. You’ve got him with you every time you use your quirk, every time you snort like he did.” Hawks grinned a little at that, trying to lift her spirit without pushing her too fast.

He then stood and offered his other hand to steady her.

“We can look for more when you’re ready—your mom’s records, maybe some old hero logs. But we don’t have to do it all today. There’s no rush. What matters is you have this now. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

He gave her hand a soft squeeze, his wings flexing slightly behind him.

“You wanna keep going? Or you want a break, maybe get something warm to drink, clear your head?” he asked gently, letting her take the lead again. “Whatever you choose, I’m here, little bird.”

[melodyofmbaku]

What You Spit, I Swallowed (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Ya'll gon' feel some things.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N - I realized I could only edit this for so long and I actually had to post it 🤪 I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘

My Masterlist ___

Smoke watched from the living room as Annie bustled around the house making sure everything was just right. The kitchen. The powder room. The cellar which nobody would see. Everything needed to be just right. 

The roast was in the oven. Table set. Wine poured. Annie stood at the counter, smoothing her hands down the front of her apron, then across the napkins again, though they didn’t need fixing.

“Can y’all just be civil? Please?” she said without turning. “For me. I just want to have  a nice dinner tonight. As a family.”

She used that word a lot. Family. Said it like a prayer, a promise. Like saying it out loud might turn it true.

The boys knew better.

Stack was leaning against the archway, a little too relaxed, wine already heavy in his hand.

“I’m always civil,” he grinned. “I’m a delight.”

Smoke didn’t say anything at first. Just sat back at the table, stiff as iron, nursing a glass of whisky like medicine. He’d need it tonight. They both would.

“I ain’t lying to nobody,” he muttered, low.

Annie sighed. Not because she disagreed — but because she understood.

They weren’t happy about this. Never had been. Melody had a way of turning Annie into someone else — smaller, unsure. And the boys hated that. Hated watching the bold, beautiful woman they loved contort herself to keep the peace. To keep her peace.

So when Annie told them that Melody was gonna be in town and wanted to visit, the news wasn’t met with enthusiasm.  When they protested she had shut them down, said that special word — family — and the boys knew they didn’t have a chance at dissuading her. 

She laid down the final plate and crossed the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel that didn’t need cleaning. Her shoulders were tight. Her smile too practiced.

Melody was Annie’s half-sister. Same father, different everything else. Product of an affair that tore Annie’s whole world sideways and maybe even took her mother to the grave.

She was pretty, and soft-spoken when it served her. But she had a way of reaching back into Annie’s life like she had a claim to it. Like their shared blood gave her a right to rewrite things. Rewrite her.

Melody said things like they’d grown up hand-in-hand. Like Annie hadn’t spent her real childhood alone, and Melody hadn’t moved in only after her world fell apart. 

She touched too casually. Said too much. Knew too little.

And yet… Annie kept trying. Trying to stitch something together out of all the scraps they’d been handed. Trying to make a family out of splinters.

There was a knock at the door.

The roast was carved. Greens passed. Biscuits buttered and cooling fast.

On the surface, everything looked like a proper supper. But Smoke hadn’t touched much of his food, and Stack had started drinking like the only way through the night was to float on top of it.

Melody leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass like she had something wise to say. Her gaze landed on the cornbread.

“Reminds me of when Mama used to burn the bottoms,” she said with a giggle. “She’d scrape off the black parts with a knife and pretend it was on purpose. Said it ‘kept you humble.’”

Annie’s fork paused mid-air.

Stack didn’t look up, but his mouth twitched.

“You remember that, don’t you?” Melody added, too quick. “That little yellow-handled knife she used for everything?”

Annie swallowed. Set her fork down quiet.

“She wasn’t my mama.”

Melody blinked, like she hadn’t expected that to sting.

“Well—no, obviously,” she said, waving a hand like it was silly to be so exact. “I just meant… your most recent mama. I mean, she was in the house.”

“She was in the house,” Annie said evenly. 

Melody laughed, high and a little breathless, like she could laugh her way out of what just happened.

“Well,” she said, putting her glass down, “family’s funny like that, huh?” She added before placing a hand on Annie’s forearm.

Smoke’s eyes followed the movement with precision.

“So,” Melody said brightly, trying to start a conversation “y’all ever thought about kids?”

The question hung there, syrupy sweet with expectation.

Annie blinked. “We— We’ll know when we’re ready.”

Melody’s husband Frank leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show.

The man chuckled, low and grating. “Ain’t it about time though? Clock don’t wait forever. ‘Specially for women.”

Smoke’s knuckles tightened around his fork.

“I gotta admit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest, “I didn’t know what to expect, comin’ out here. Lotta stories floatin’ ‘round town.”

Stack’s eyes flicked up from his plate. Smoke didn’t move.

“Oh yeah?” Annie said, keeping her voice polite. “And what kinda stories are those?”

The man shrugged, like he was being reasonable.

“Just… folks wondering how something like this works. Three people under one roof. Two men sharin’ a woman —brothers at that. Sounds more like trouble than a marriage.”

Smoke still didn’t look up. But Annie could feel the shift. Like pressure building under floorboards.

“I mean, hell. Where I’m from, we call that a love triangle, not a household.”

Annie opened her mouth, but Stack beat her to it — voice easy, even playful.

“Well lucky for us, you ain’t from here.”

Melody gave her husband a look — the kind that meant you’re doin’ too much — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I just think kids need structure,” he said, “Two fathers under one roof? That’s confusion, not discipline.”

Now Smoke looked up. Real slow.

“You do a lot of childrearing yourself?” he asked.

The man blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“You talkin’ like you got a full house somewhere. How many you got?” the man had a menacing smile plastered on his face.

“…None yet.”

“Then hush.”

The man frowned. Then Frank reached across the table — not for the biscuits, not for the salt. For the gravy boat.

But instead of asking, he leaned in close, placing a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder as he reached.

His thumb brushed against the strap of her dress.

Too familiar. Too firm.

“’Scuse me, darlin’,” he said, casual like he did it all the time.

It wasn’t the touch — it was the way he didn’t rush to remove it.

Smoke saw it. So did Stack.

And Annie flinched — just slightly — but enough to be noticed.

That should’ve been enough. But Melody’s hand went out — again — brushing Annie’s arm like they were girls sharing secrets instead of strangers dressed in matching last names.

"Mama used to say, ‘Ain’t no shame in wantin’ a real man.’ Guess you took that to heart, huh, sis? You went and got yourself two!"

Annie winced once more. It was soft, but Smoke saw it. And that was the last straw.

Smoke set his glass down. Quiet. Too quiet.

“You need to stop touchin’ her so casually.” he said pointing at the woman.

Melody’s hand stilled against Annie’s arm. Her smile wavered.

“Excuse me?”

“Smoke,” Annie said quickly, trying to smile, trying to control the room. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t blink. “It ain’t.”

Stack leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed but not joking anymore. “He’s right. You don’t know her like that. You ain’t earned the right.”

Melody’s brows arched, scandalized.

Annie stepped in faster this time, voice low but firm.

“Enough.”

She turned toward Smoke, hand light on his shoulder. His muscles were rigid beneath her palm.

“She’s family,” she said softly. “Let’s not do this right now.”

Stack leaned back, sucked his teeth, clearly biting something back. Smoke didn’t move at all.

“She ain’t family to me,” Smoke muttered.

“She is to me,” Annie snapped. “And that should be enough.”

That silenced the table — just long enough for Melody’s husband to break it again.

“Well,” he said, with a smirk, “nice to see someone wearing the pants in this house.”

Stack’s jaw tightened.

“Stack,” Annie warned, before he could speak.

He didn’t. But the damage was done.

Melody giggled, smoothing her napkin on her lap like nothing had happened.

Annie went to gather the plates.

“Dinner’s done,” she said. “Why don’t we move to the sitting room? I’ll bring coffee.”

She didn’t look at Smoke. Didn’t look at Stack either. She just carried the dishes to the kitchen, heart pounding, wishing it all felt less like a lie.

_

The front door clicked shut.

Silence.

Not the quiet kind, but the loaded kind. The kind that rattled inside your chest and made your ears ring.

Annie stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight, like she was bracing for impact.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack didn’t move.

For a beat, nobody breathed.

Annie exhaled, hard. “Don’t start.”

“I ain’t startin’. I’m finishin’. The hell was that?” Smoke’s voice cut through the kitchen.

She turned, dish towel clenched tight in her hands. “What was what, Smoke?”

“You told me to stand down. You just about told Stack to shut up. While they sat at our table, runnin’ they mouths and touchin’ you like they know you.”

“They’re family.”

“No,” he snapped. “They’re not. That man disrespected you. And her? She touched you like she’s the one that tucks you in at night.”

“Stop it.”

Stack stepped in carefully, voice low. “She made you flinch, baby. We saw it. You don’t flinch with us.”

Annie bit her lip. Hard.

“I just wanted one peaceful night. I didn’t want a scene.”

“You wanted peace—so you offered us up like sacrificial lambs,” Smoke said, voice growing sharp.

“That ain’t fair.”

“No? You let her talk like y’all shared a childhood. Let that man spit on our marriage with a smile. Then told me to hush?”

“You think I don’t know who she is?” Annie’s voice cracked “I lived with her. She slept in my mama’s bed two weeks after she was buried. She was Daddy’s second chance and my reminder that I’d already lost.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry.

“I was just trying to keep the damn evening from fallin’ apart. You think I liked it? You think I didn’t hear every little dig, every look, every word?”

“Then why the hell ain’t you say somethin’?” Stack asked. 

“Because I’m tired!” she shouted. “Tired of everything bein’ a fight. Tired of defendin’ my choices, my house, my men. I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

Smoke’s voice dropped cold. “Then don’t invite people who only show up to remind you that you alone.”

Annie’s shoulders pulled back like he’d struck her. 

“Alone?”

“You got us. But when they’re here, you act like you don’t.”

The room felt smaller. Angrier. Like the walls were listening.

“I ain’t the one you should be mad at, Annie,” Smoke said.

“No. You’re just the one who wants to be mad for me.” Annie didn’t look at him.

He leaned back. Only slightly. But Stack caught it. Smoke prided himself on taking care of his family. He’d be the bad guy if it meant that they were ok. So for Annie to throw that in his face? It was low. 

Annie turned on him. “What? Go on then. Call me out my name. You been waitin’ all night.”

“I been waitin’ for you to stop pretendin’ you owe that woman somethin’. Stop shrinkin’ yourself so she can feel taller.”

“And I been waitin’ for you to realize the world don’t revolve around your damn temper!”

“Y’all—” Stack tried.

“Elias, stay out of it.” She pointed at him.

That did it. Stack’s hands dropped. He stepped back, mouth flat.

Smoke’s voice turned dangerously soft. “You tellin’ him to stay out, but you let them strangers walk right in and put hands on what’s mine?”

Annie’s nostrils flared. She stepped in close.

“Don’t talk to me about ownership. I’m not some bitch you can pull by the leash when I embarrass you.”

Stacks head whipped around. Shock coloured his face. 

“Annie. Don’t,” Stack warned softly — they didn’t talk like this to each other. 

Smoke’s voice dropped low and clipped. “You gon’ wanna be real careful with me right now, woman.”

“Or what?” Annie challenged. “You gon’ bark louder? Show me why everybody outside scared of you?”

He stepped forward. Stack moved fast, blocking him.

“Enough.” Stack said. “We don’t do this shit. This ain’t us.”

“No,” Annie said. “This is exactly who we are. Pretendin’ this ain’t built on shaky ground.”

Looked like Frank’s words had planted a seed. 

Stack moved like she’d slapped him.

“You think it’s shaky?” Smoke’s voice shook. “You think we ain’t holdin’ you up every day? Lovin’ you, buildin’ you back from the goddamn inside?”

His voice cracked — just slightly.

“I would burn this house down to protect you,” he said, softer now. “And you out here handin’ matches to people who never cared whether you froze.”

“She disrespected you, Annie,” Stack said, voice stiff. “Right to your face. And you smiled through it. Made us smile through it too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Annie laughed bitterly. “Was I supposed to let y’all growl and swing your dicks like dogs markin’ a tree?”

“Watch your mouth,” Smoke said slowly.

“No—you watch yours. I let you bark, posture. The minute I asked you to sit like a man, you sulked like a whipped boy.”

There it was. The heat. The disrespect.

“Annie…” Stack said, quiet, alarmed. 

“I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

“Elijah—they’re family.” she tried to plead.

“So you gotta put up with disrespect?”

Annie threw her hands up, all syrup and sass. “The Moores got morals tonight!”

Stack cursed under his breath. Smoke went still as death.

“Fix them lips to say somethin’ crazy again, Annie,” Smoke warned. “See if I don’t remind you why you call me daddy.”

She tilted her head. “You sassin’?”

“C’mon now y’all…” Stack said half-terrified.

Smoke stepped closer, his voice dropping into something dark and dangerous. “It’s gon’ be real hard to take you serious if you got my seed drippin’ from your hole. Test me.”

Annie’s throat bobbed. She was gonna take that bait.

“Do not,” Stack said, sharp and urgent.

Too late.

“Annie’s sorry — ain’t ya, baby?” he tried, reaching for a lifeline.

“The hell I am,” she snapped.

“Don’t be a hero,” Stack warned, tension threading through his voice. “He gon’ turn you out, and I’ma join him.”

Annie looked at him, eyes glittering. Daring them both.

Smoke started up once more, “We’ll paint your insides white just how you like it. Remind you you the property of the Moores — no one else’s.”

“Property? That’s what I am to you?” she shot back. “A place to plant your damn flag?”

He shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“I ain’t land. You don’t own me.”

“You act like disrespectin’ us is rent you pay,” he shot back, voice cold. 

That line came from somewhere deep — deeper than Smoke usually let show.

“If I’m so damn disrespectful,” Annie stepped in close, venom curling her words, “why you still crawlin’ back to this disrespectful pussy every night?”

Stack looked away. Smoke didn’t blink.

“That’s right,” she pressed. “You talk all this mine mine mine shit, but you only feel like a man when I’m on my knees, beggin’ for it.”

“Fix them lips, woman,” he said, low and mean.

“What? You don’t like it when I talk back? Only like me with your dick down my throat?”

“It make a fine picture.” Stack muttered from the side. 

“I like it when you remember who’s keepin’ you safe. Lovin’ you every goddamn day while you spit in our faces.” Smoke reasoned.

“I’m done talking to you.” she spoke lowly. 

“C’mon now,” Smoke said, voice soft and twisted. “Say somethin’ real filthy. You good at that when your jaw’s slack and your legs spread.”

“Smoke,” Stack snapped. “You know what you doin’. Stop provokin’ her.”

“Nah,” Smoke said without even looking at him. “She a big girl. She can take whatever daddy dish out, right?”

Stack stepped in. “It ain’t fair, Smoke. You know it ain’t fair.”

Smoke paused. Just a second. There were two of them. One of her. It was unbalanced. Always would be.

He sighed, started to lift a hand — maybe to apologize.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Annie spat in his face.

It hit his cheek and stuck.

For one sharp breath, nobody moved.

Annie stood perfectly still, chest rising hard. Her jaw clenched, eyes shining—not with tears, but with fury. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

Then Smoke cracked.

Stack caught him hard at the chest, shoving him back.

“Don’t.”

Smoke went still.

The spit clung to his cheek, hot and humiliating. He didn’t wipe it. Just stared — right at her.

Annie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her spine was stiff, posture defiant. But there was something flickering in her eyes now. 

“I wanna fuck that disrespect right outta her,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

He stepped toward her — not to strike, but to claim, to punish her with the only kind of control he knew wouldn’t break her.

Annie’s breath caught. Just barely.

Stack stepped in fast — arm out, body angled between them.

“And we don’t do things that way,” he snapped, sharp and firm.

Their eyes locked. For a long, brittle second, it felt like something might break.

“You want her like that? Broken?” Stack asked his brother. 

The picture he painted with that statement stung. 

He didn’t want her like that. Giving in because she didn’t have a choice. Because he “bested” her. 

He wanted it offered to him, because she felt like he deserved it. He didn’t wanna take it. 

“You keep pushin’, you gon’ scare her,” Stack said, quieter now. “And she don’t deserve that from you.”

That stopped him.

Smoke’s jaw ticked hard, and he deflated. 

Behind Stack, Annie was still frozen in place—arms locked at her sides, as if afraid any movement might shatter the silence.

“Take a walk,” Stack added. “Right now. Before you say somethin’ you can’t unsay.”

Smoke didn’t move.

“I got her,” Stack said, gentler now. “You… go cool off.”

Finally, Smoke blinked. Swallowed. His eyes never left Annie.

“You make sure she’s okay,” he said, hoarse.

“I got her.”

Then he turned and walked out — quiet, controlled, like a storm bottled in a man.

Annie stood frozen.

Then sat — slow and stiff — like someone letting herself fall without a net.

Stack stayed standing, chest heaving like he’d just run a race.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer.

He dropped to a knee beside her.

“He lost his temper. He shouldn’t’ve. You know that.”

She nodded — barely.

“I made him,” she said.

“No,” Stack replied. “You matched him. That’s different.”

A beat passed. He reached for her hand.

“You still ours,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ shifted in that.”

She squeezed once. 

“He didn’t even flinch,” she whispered. “But his eyes… they changed.”

Stack squeezed her hand. “He was mad. That don’t mean he stopped carin’.”

“He’s scared. Same as you,” Stack said. “That’s what it is—fear dressed up as fire.”

She exhaled hard, like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You meant it,” he cut in gently but firm. “Don’t lie to me.”

That shut her up. Her mouth pressed into a hard line.

“You meant it,” Stack said again, softer this time, “and that’s what’s eatin’ him up.”

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Thick with things they couldn’t take back.

She looked toward the door, then back at Stack.

“You mad at me too?”

He sighed. “Don’t matter what I’m feelin’. You’re my wife. My family. I stand with you—even when I don’t like how it went down.”

“I’m sorry, Stack,” she whispered.

He gave a small shrug. “Don’t be sorry. Be sure.”

Then he stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

“I'm gon’ fix my plate again,” he murmured. “If I don’t eat, I get mean.”

That earned him the smallest laugh. But it was what he needed to hear. Enough to know she was still with him.

“I set aside your favourite,” she murmured, voice rough but soft. “Kept it warm in the oven… in that little dish with the blue trim. Knew you’d want a snack later.”

He paused, and his eyes flicked to hers — just for a second. That did something to him.

“Always lookin’ out,” he said, almost to himself.

Then, quieter: “Love you, baby.”

One more kiss to her head. Then he turned for the kitchen, shoulders squared a little taller than before.

__

The door creaked open.

Smoke stood in the threshold like he wasn’t sure he had the right to come back in. Smoke looked different. Not unraveled — not quite. But quieted. Like whatever storm had rolled through him had lost its bite, leaving behind a man instead of a tempest.

Annie didn’t turn. She sat curled on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, her hand still in Stack’s. The fire had burned low, its glow casting soft shadows across the room. Silence pressed in like fog.

Smoke stepped inside, slow and cautious, like a man testing floorboards for landmines. His eyes found her first. She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t look up, either.

“I scared you,” he said, voice low.

No one answered.

He stood there a beat longer, hat in hand, shoulders heavy.

“I talked about ownin’ you. Fuckin’ the disrespect outta you,” he went on, his voice thick. “That ain’t love talk. That’s not somethin’ you say to the woman you love.”

Annie shifted slightly. Stack’s thumb moved gently over her knuckles.

“I ain’t proud of it,” Smoke murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Still, neither of them spoke.

Smoke let out a breath through his nose, rough around the edges.

“I was mad you shut us down,” he said. “Mad you didn’t let us defend you. But I didn’t come at you like a husband. I came at you like a man who forgot what kind of woman he had.”

That made her look up.

Her eyes were still red, but she met his gaze steady.

“You did scare me,” she said softly.

Stack’s jaw ticked, but Annie gave his hand a squeeze—like she was okay.

“And I hurt y’all too,” she added. “Shut you down in your own home. Made you feel unheard. That wasn’t right.”

She stood, slow and deliberate. Smoke didn’t move.

“You and Stack… you’re my peace,” she said. “My anchor. And tonight I treated you like a storm. All ‘cause I let my past talk louder than the two men who actually built something with me.”

She stepped toward Smoke now, close enough her chest brushed his.

“I’m sorry I spit,” she said, quieter still. “That was… uncalled for. And beneath me.”

Smoke’s brow furrowed, something soft and pained flickering in his eyes. His hand came up, cradling her jaw.

“You still ours?” he asked.

She nodded once.

“Yours. Always.”

Behind them, Stack smiled to himself. 

Then Annie turned to Stack.

The man looked caught off guard—his brows lifted, lips parting like he wasn’t expecting the spotlight.

“I’m sorry I made you feel secondary today, baby,” she said. “Like your opinion didn’t matter. Like you were less than.”

“Whoa, now—I ain’t say all that,” Stack replied, lifting a hand.

“You didn’t have to,” she murmured. “I see now what I was doing. And it was wrong. You’re every bit a part of this, and I treated you like a bystander. I’m sorry, Elias. Truly.”

Stack blinked. For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

Smoke chimed in, voice low. “And thank you.”

Stack looked over.

“I was losin’ my head in here,” Smoke said. “And you got me right. You always do.”

“Well,” Stack drawled, clearing his throat and smoothing down his collar. “Now that y’all mention it… you right. I am the star of today’s show. Glad that’s been properly acknowledged.”

That earned him a chuckle from both Annie and Smoke.

He folded his arms and leaned back, cocky as ever. He thrusted his chin at Annie “You can show me your gratitude in peach cobbler.”

Annie arched a brow. “Peach cobbler?”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t cheap out it either. I need hella peaches in there.” he said dead serious. 

“And you—” he looked at Smoke, “you can take stock at the juke for the next week.”

“Three days,” Smoke countered.

“Five.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, solemn as preachers. 

Annie laughed—quiet, but real—and turned to glance over her shoulder.

“Well,” Stack said, breaking the lingering tension with a dry drawl, “now that everyone’s sorry… can we go back to actin’ like Melody’s husband don’t eat with his damn mouth open and ask questions like ‘what y’all do for money’ like he ain’t got food crumbs in his mustache?”

Annie barked a laugh. Smoke cracked a grin despite himself.

“Mm,” Annie said, eyes dancing, “maybe I’ll go spit on him next time.”

Smoke raised a brow. “You better not. I’m the only one gettin’ that kind of disrespect.”

She smirked. “So… the ‘fuckin’ the disrespect outta me’ thing… that still on the table, or?”

Stack groaned, loud and dramatic, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m leavin’ the room.”

“No, no,” Annie said quickly, reaching out to stop him. Her voice softened. “I want all my boys,” she murmured. “My family. With me tonight.”

Stack froze.

Smoke looked up at her—really looked.

Smoke’s lips brushed her temple. Stack kissed her shoulder.

The house, so loud just an hour ago, fell to hush.

Just heartbeats.

Just them.

And the slow, quiet burn of still belonging to one another.

__

A/N Thought I'd give ya'll a variation of some angst for the trio but I'd actually end it off so I don't leave you in perpetual pain like I did in Touch of a Woman 🤪 For those curious about what fic in this AU would come after this... you'd enjoy Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash 💰

Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think 🥰

____

My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

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[sailingintothenight]

"The girl in his eyes." Bob Reynolds Imagine.

(Not my gif but give a prize to the people who make them)

Summary: Time together created feelings in the two of you, until the group tries to get him and you to talk, with John urging Bob to talk about "the girl in his eyes." And that creates a big misunderstanding.

A/N: Just a kind of short imagine (around 4K words) cause I'm new here and I don't want to go on too long and bore you all in case this is boring. I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors. But something I always knew but I accepted today is that some of us write the kind of love we'd like to receive, right? The kind we sometimes can't find, though other did find, I hope. However, in the meantime, don't forget to love yourself please. As a warning, a little angst(?) but with a happy ending! and the word "drug." I think that's all, thanks!

“Lena, did you see (Y/N)—”

The last letter of your name drops to a whisper as Bob stops in front of the long couch, Yelena’s finger pressed against her own lips to silence him, a potato chip sandwiched between her other two before she pops it into her mouth, the bag in her lap, and her full attention back on the phone in her other hand.

She’s sitting diagonally, her back between the cushion behind her and the armrest, her left knee bent down as it falls off the edge to the floor, but it’s the other one that has Bob pressing his lips together as he films this version of you with his bluest gaze, the memory searing itself into his mind. You’re there, asleep, lying sideways on the comfy, fluffy cushions, part of your head on the outside of Yelena’s thigh, a front strand of your hair now falling over your closed eyelids and the border of your nose.

And it's soft for Bob, that image of you, and overwhelming only in the way it forces him to swallow the lump forming in his throat as his feelings pile up inside.

"You need anything, Bob?" Yelena's pointed gaze moves from the paused TikTok video (a cat staring at the camera, a flashbulb fired in right in its face), chuckling as the animal's expression still lingers in her mind, frozen on her phone—the white feline silhouette and wide–open eyes—and she shows it to him. "Have you watched this video?"

Bob nods, and the sound of him trying to clear his throat (so his words don't falter mid–sentence like he knows they will) accompanies the action.

"Yeah, (Y/N) sent it to me a few days ago."

"It's so funny." She laughs softly, and her full attention returns to the device, finger sliding across the screen after saving it to favorites, bringing another chip to her mouth. “That cat is so silly.”

But like a cry, Bob whimpers softly, the tiniest sound in the silence.

“You’re dropping crumbs in her hair, Lena.”

Yelena stops, her gaze sliding from her phone to him and then back down to you, and her slightly oily hand catches the crispy piece that had gotten caught in the strands.

“Relax, Bob. This is the price (Y/N) is paying for using me. She knows it. We shook hands. Now, do you need anything? Or someone, maybe?”

There’s a hint of healthy mockery in her smile, a silent challenge in her tone of voice that’s urging him to answer only with the truth everyone already sees, but the featherweight of her joke feels like lead in his chest and in his nervous hands, covered by a layer of clothing one size too big for Bob.

“No, just… I finished reading a book and thought (Y/N) would be here ready to—”

But there was nothing afterward, just lying there together, in the same bed before sleeping, on extreme sides so as not to cross boundaries but to keep each other company before loneliness settled in every room, when it sometimes forced him to wake up with a gasp and a foggy mind filled with traumatic experiences, talking about books or things.  

But perhaps it was the words left unspoken between you before sleeping (hidden among the ones you did say: goodnight and sleep well), the ones you two avoided saying and pushed aside, along with the feelings that lived dormant in the darkness and accumulated inside each other—the things you both were dying to say but neither of you dared for fear that the already solid pillars of your friendship would crumble because of something as unstable as love.

Yelena waits a second longer, but there is no response from the other end.

“The team and I were talking about you tw—”

Bob knows what it is, the favorite topic on everyone's lips.

“You guys talk a lot, maybe you should shut up for a while. Silence is good sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes, an exasperated look following her action.

“Help me out here for a while, will you? I have a cramp and need to stretch.”

Bob swallows, eyes slightly wide at the prospect of feeling that kind of closeness with you, the kind that comes so quickly it makes him dizzy and ignites the heat in his cheeks sharply. The warmth of your hand, he felt it before, many times, a casual or intentional touch, and it was scorching (when the supermarket was crowded and the crush of people unnerved him sometimes, for example, your fingers would close around his and his hand would squeeze yours), as if it could ignite a forest fire inside him, so wild it seemed it could burn everything—the enemy in his thoughts, his insecurities, his fears, his nightmares.

He didn't even want to think about what it would feel like to feel the heat of your cheek.

But he did.

Bob had imagined it several times already. In a burst of bravery, his heart beating faster than a drug high, his thumb would slide down your cheek, fingers hooking softly around the edge of your jaw.

"Bob?"

"What?"

Yelena drops her things into the armrest, her hand cupping the bottom of your head.

“Put your leg here, Bob.”

He shakes his head, his own heartbeat increasing with the fear and excitement that mix, so close that the line between them blurs, and his somewhat messy, wild hair moves with him.

“I don’t think—”

“Three…”

“What are you—?”

“Two…”

“Lena—”

“One.”

Bob takes a step forward, hands outstretched to stop her without a word, a silent plea in his eyes for her to do nothing, even though Yelena hadn't moved an inch and wasn't planning to either. And with a deep inhalation and exhalation, a failed attempt to fill his lungs with cold air and soothe the heat settling in his chest, Bob switches places with her, even more gentle as you shift in your sleep, your hands close to your face and your cheek now on his leg, covered by his gray sleep pants, but which seem like the finest fabric in the world when Bob feels your heat radiate through your skin until it meets his, every nerve ending.

"You're adorable, Bob." Yelena laughs quietly, but there's not a hint of cruel mockery in her words—never with him—and she leans back on the second–long sofa, phone in her hand again. "Like those boys in her books. Such a gentleman. I know why she likes you so much."

Likes you, being in love—two different scenarios if the feelings on either side were unequal. Either a chasm separated those two feelings, or the first could be the path to get to the other.

“Did I do something wrong to make her not like me anymore?”

The weight of self–doubt about a topic as distant and still foreign to him as love (next to his insecurities) try to bring down the confidence Bob was still trying to build little by little, and Yelena can see them shining clearly in his gaze as he finally holds hers, even in the dim living room light at night, searching for an answer he can't find within himself, not when there's a thick fog between the truth and him.

“What do you mean?”

Bob shrugs.

“(Y/N) is always here with me, but absent at the same time, as if something has suddenly changed between us.”

“You’re overthinking things, Bob.”

There’s affection in Yelena’s words, warm in their attempt to reassure him of a truth hidden among his fears, but he lets out a small sound, something like a laugh without a hint of humor. Just an empty noise.

“Overthinking sometimes allows you to see the smallest things.”

“Like what?”

Bob can see it in his sometimes fragmented mind, every moment together and the way you changed, finding solitude where there was only company, a touch of emptiness when there was always life in your eyes.

But he doesn't know exactly how to explain it, and Yelena nods thoughtfully.

"Why don't you try to think about what exactly you did then? We have a while until the losers arrive with dinner. I'm going to be here with you, but ignoring you at the same time, okay?"

Catching his slight nod, Yelena turns on the couch, face close to the cushion and her phone in between, indistinct sounds from the videos, set to low volume, floating around him so the absolute silence doesn't completely consume him with the severity of his thoughts.

Bob lowers his head and his gaze rests on you, barely listening to the sound of your slow breathing as, in your sleep, your body relaxed, at peace. The curve of your lips is tempting, and he lifts the hand resting in his lap to push that strand of hair away from your face and place it where it belongs.

There, above your eyebrow and with nothing covering it, Bob can see the only physical reminder of the fall of a whole building when your self–control overflowed at the edge of your anger. And like a tiny crack in a surface, the small scar has a slightly different hue than your skin, but it was an imperfection that only makes you more perfect, more real, a whole person and not like a cruel dream from which Bob always wakes up before reaching.

Just like that, your presence in his life became a need.

You were the proof that he was still alive after the unbearable pain, (knowing all have been worth it because he met you) and that his heart hadn't turned to tin. He was still breathing, his heart was still beating, and he'd finally felt the nervous tingle, the fluttering of being in love.

Love, so silent you don't even know you have it until you're full of it.

Love, a silent feeling in a room full of euphoria, and at the same time, it's like an alarm that goes off and no one but him and you can hear.

To be close to you, with you, every day, that’s all Bob wanted at the beginning. But almost selfishly, the passage of time together made him greedy, wanting more from you, a different smile than you had for others, a new kind of laugh, escalating until all his thoughts were about you, daydreaming about how to shake off that title of friend and crown himself with a different one.

It was a silent plea, a hope. It became a desire that made him company through his sleepless nights…

“You need to be direct with her.” Alexei had said weeks ago in the kitchen, when the hands of the clock showed it was too late at night. “Your words must be deep enough to cut like a knife in the heart.”

Bob didn’t even know how he’d ended up in that secret meeting, when all he’d wanted to do was grab a late–night snack from the fridge to leave on your nightstand after you’d joked embarrassingly that you did that sometimes. But, confused and slightly scared, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise as the rest of the men stared at the red guardian and his constantly failing attempt to explain himself properly.

“Maybe not so direct.” Walker shook his head, the usual mocking tone on the edge of his voice. “How about you just tell her in small hints instead of trying to draw blood? You can hint that you like her, but without actually saying I like you.”

Bob blinked, confused, the information coming in too fast as he tried to take it all in.

“Like what?”

Bucky wag his head softly.

“Ask her to teach you how to do things you know she likes. She will feel that you are interested in her.”

And that was exactly what Bob did.

Now, when the doors of the elevator open and some really loud voices pierce the room, his natural protective instinct, (the one that was born the first time he took care of his father after witnessing his first blackout) makes his hand, a second after the resounding sound, move fast to press it against your ear, blocking out the laugh coming from the men.

As a reflex, your body moves in your sleep, but your awakening is less abrupt with his help.

You get up slowly, your mind and gaze blurred as Yelena leaves the living room, patting Bob on the shoulder on her way to the dining room. The edges of your gaze darken after rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, the pleasant sting creeping around as you chuckle.

“Did I sleep so much I forgot I was lying on your leg?”

Bob chuckles too, and an invisible thread pulls the corner of his lip upward.

“You slept so long that Lena’s leg went numb. Just like mine.”

You let out a surprised laugh, your body slumping back against the backrest.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you know I’m always here for you.”

“Kids, dinner!”

Alexei’s voice fills the room.

At the same time, as a reflection that you both can’t avoid in time when instinct wins, Bob and you move your bodies to look over your shoulders, heads turning in the same direction, finding yourselves at what your mother used to call, at the perfect distance of a kiss. Bob is so close you can almost drink his breath, stopping yours when his blue gaze holds yours for an eternal second that finish quickly but that feels endless, watching each other's eyes before you both separate, looking forward as a nervous feeling fills your heart.

You walk away first, finding an empty spot next to Ava.

“Dad, will you stop calling us to the table like we’re real kids?” Yelena complains, sitting at one of the heads of the food–laden table as Bob sits in the chair across from you. “Someone here is older than life.”

The rest chuckle, not too loudly.

“But you’re my kids. Now, let’s have dinner like family.”

At some point, there is a back—and—forth conversation around, about a past relationship for some of them, somehow empty, never too deep because talking once about the future they hoped and never got to feel is enough for everybody, but always accompanied by soft laughter that makes the tower feel like a real home after some lost it or never had it in the first place.

“So… what’s your type of man, (Y/N)?” Yelena chuckles, and the sound is full of genuine affection for you, but it hides her desire to steer the conversation in a way that Bob can be included in your words. “You’re always reading, so you must have a type. Maybe someone here is like that.”

The others feign innocence, but the possibility stirs in Bob’s body with a heartbeat that’s too fast, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion, and a certain weight of worry about not hearing a promising answer.

“Who?” Ava laughs also knowingly, with a certain disdain at thinking of the others and you that way too, and her finger points at Alexei. “Too old.” Then at Bucky. “Way too old.” Finally, at John. “Too much of an idiot. That leaves just Bob.”

Bob swallows at the sound of his name, so abruptly that the food in his mouth makes his expression twist slightly in pain.

The others, expectant, continue waiting.

You clear your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as if it were seeking its own freedom and a way out of a situation that seems unlikely to end well.

“The usual, I guess, just… a nice guy.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not fun.” John grins, malice bubbling up as if he needs to embarrass someone at least once a day to survive. “You could be more specific, like Bob. Right now there is a girl in his eyes so he could tell us what she’s like, describe her so much until we’re bored.”

Bob's gaze meets yours, barely a second before you look away when Bucky speaks.

“I think that’s enough with the jokes, huh?”

But then, to everyone’s surprise and his own, Bob speaks, and with a touch of nervousness bordering on anxiety, he starts talking about her. Just a little, not quite to the point of boring the rest of you.

And you listen, your heart a little cold around the edges. Like a brutal change in the season, the tempest of his words threatens to hurt you without hesitation or guilt, but you listen, because you always tried to be a good friend to Bob, a person he could trust when he didn't even trust his own shadow. And even when he was always full of doubt about himself, about the truth, he seemed to trust your voice more than the enemy within, the one that whispered only cruelty. Even when he became cloudy, pulling the blanket off his head when you asked him to, because that was always the only promise for him that it would all end eventually.

For all those months together, it had been you, and between heartbeats, it had always been him. Until you confused things, apparently.

Until the girl in his eyes arrived.

And it hurts, it burns to think about it, that reality that creeps up on you, that of always being just a friend. And it's like having an empty stomach, an empty mind, an empty heart.

When he's finished, you excuse yourself to leave with a smile and your head held high, leaving the deathly silence behind and missing the way Bob follows you with his eyes, even after you disappear from the room.

"I think we blew this." Ava lets out a small sound, like a worried laugh at possible defeat as she looks at the rest.

"Did you have to go on so long, genius?" A semi–hard object hits the side of Bob's head and bounces off it, without erasing his terrified expression as he looks at Bucky. "We told you you had to flatter her a little, not write her a Shakespearean sonnet."

Yelena frowns.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Some weeks ago we told Bob to try to hint to (Y/N) that he likes her without telling her he likes her.”

“And?”

“And nothing else. (Y/N) came into the kitchen to get something from the fridge, and the conversation ended there.”

“Did she hear you talking about this ingenious plan?” Ava’s hard gaze landed on Bob, and he blinked, innocent eyes set in a look of terror. “Did (Y/N) hear you talking about her, or did she hear you being told by the smartest men in this place how to get your girl?”

As night fell and sent the rest of the team to sleep, the endless talk finished when you had entered the kitchen, a soft sound from your throat announcing your presence first.

“What are you doing up so late, darling?”

“I came to get something to eat.” Bucky’s gaze rested on you, all the way until you closed the fridge door. “Sorry to interrupt your boys’ sleepover.”

“It’s not a boys’ sleepover, (Y/N).” John frowned, slightly offended.

“Men’ sleepover is better.” Alexei smiled, and you laughed with him, his innocence fluttering as the others sighed in defeat.

“Of course, my mistake. Sleep well, everybody.”

“You too.”

The others' voices were an echo, except for Bob's, lips closed as your eyes fell on him in your farewell.

He never said your name, and neither did the others. But from then on, there was only half a life in your eyes, whereas before they had always been full of it every time you looked at him.

The seconds of understanding end when Bob stands up, so fast he pushes his chair back with a dry sound against the polished floor.

His own breathing becomes labored, but he tries to calm his anxious heart.

"You always have to ruin things—"

"Not this time. Not with her." Bob murmurs softly, and when he finally reaches your room, your door is always open for anyone who wants to enter and exist, and that's a mixed relief. "(Y/N)?"

You look over your shoulder, your body facing away from him as you continue to sit in front of your laptop on the desk.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Bob closes the door behind him, barely making a noise as he ventures inside, feeling the place like untapped territory even though he's been there since his life merged with yours. The sound of his sneakers on the floor is almost nonexistent, but it feels heavy like lead in his pockets as Bob sits next to you, listening to the almost ghostly volume of the video playing in front of you.

"You okay, Bob?"

Your attention is on the screen and your voice is a whisper, but it is an overwhelming force that hits his chest, even harder than bullets in the past.

"Are you?"

You chuckle.

"I asked you first."

Bob hums a reply.

"Do you want to lie down for a while? I finished a new book today and think I can convince you to read it."

You shake your head, but there's a slight, honest smile on your lips.

"I'm not sleepy yet. Maybe later or tomorrow."

Neither of you says anything for a moment, your eyes straight ahead like Bob's gaze lingers on your profile.

Bob knew that you, too, were still learning to use your voice like him, to find the right words—always hidden—so scattered across different galaxies, so far from each other that you still struggled to put them together to say something eloquent, to say what you both truly wanted to say, what you truly felt. Silence had always been your ally and an imposition for him. And that had been his curse throughout his life and yours, always in solitude, until it created his inability to speak.

But not today, not ever again.

“We’re feeling a little much apathetic today, huh?”

It’s not an accusation, but his tone tinges with his sassiness, the kind he used to make direct comments and respond to other people’s jokes, to John’s sarcasm and sometimes Bucky’s condescension. Today, however, his words make you frown sharply as you turn to look at him.

“Excuse me?” His gaze threatens to falter and leave yours when you narrow your eyes at him, but Bob stands firm when what he's said is free to the world, saying out loud what he wants to say instead of letting it perish inside and ducking his head to pretend it never happened. "You're quite bold sometimes, Bob."

“And you’re quite clueless.” He smiles, softly, firmly planted on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest. The electricity, the tingling at his fingertips as the result of this brave act is addictive, like a drug, but ultimately a healthy one, one he wants to get hooked on. “I was talking about you, silly. How can you be so smart and not realize that every word I said was about you, (Y/N)?”

Your frown relaxes, and the gnawing feeling of annoyance at his forwardness is replaced by confusion. His hands cup the sides of your chair, and Bob pulls you closer, gently, not roughly, taking in the way your body has stopped tensing, being brave when he sees your eyes light up with affection again, completely—a little scared around the edges, but finally not halfway.

“When I asked you to teach me how to braid your hair, it was for you—for that loose braid you always have. Your mom did it for you, didn’t she? Every day.” You nod, feeling the heat from his knees radiating against yours. “When I asked you to teach me how to dance to those old ballads Bucky loves so much, I didn’t do it to dance with someone else. I did it because I saw the way he spun you around one night and saw you laugh, and I wanted so badly to be him that I could feel my body vibrate. The things I said in the kitchen, about her hair and her laugh and everything—it was all about you, okay? Can you believe me? Please?”

You nod again, and Bob can see the hope, right next to that desire of a soul crying out for the exact same thing as his, silent but fervent.

His hands cup your face, soft skin over slightly calloused fingers on your cheek and the underside, thumbs gliding to make his dreams (asleep and awake) come true, a touch so tender you feel nothing but warmth at the tips—his face so close his breath mingles with yours.

Your own hands clutch at his arms, searching for something to hold you steady as well.

“I’m sorry. I… I got scared. This is my first time feeling like this.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, I never meant to make you feel like there was someone else there because ever since I met you, it’s always been you. And if you have any doubts, you are the girl in my eyes.”

Bob leans forward, closing the small space between his existence and yours.

And behind his closed eyelids, like yours, the darkness ceases to be terrifying and becomes pleasurable, for the first time in his life. Time, life itself, the past and future are suspended, unimportant and in an eternal pause in the seconds his lips linger against yours. It's an unspoken conversation, a confession of love without even having to say those three letters. A connection, strength and gentleness, melting away any fear or doubt. The kiss is soft like him, a little shy like you, but real and perfect after every moment you imagined him in your head.

And in a synchronized movement, the two of you separate, breathing in each other's air.

"I'll be back, okay? I won't be long." He whispers, his lips touch yours with the promise of many more shared kisses, before Bob stands.

"Where are you going?"

He stops halfway across the room and turns around, those strands of hair on either side of his face bouncing with the movement.

“I'm going to get you some midnight snacks so you won't have to get up, and that book I was talking about.”

You laugh softly.

“And you're going to tell the others, aren't you?”

“No.” His shoulders slump. “Yes. I have to, honey. Lena and Ava were about to hurt me really bad.”

A nervous but genuine smile appears on that sweet face of him before Bob turns away.

[captainpriceslilwife]

price with a sensitive little bird who cries too easily (me)!!!! let's think about it....

Maybe you've worked so hard to always be so tough for everyone else :( stiffening your lip every time you get even an inkling that you might cry, running off to the nearest bathroom to gather yourself so you can come back out with the pretty smile that everyone else seems to love so much.

And maybe you do the same thing with john when you first meet him - hiding yourself away the moment you get even the tiniest bit emotional because you don't want to scare him off with your 'dramatics,' as everyone else calls it. You just want him to like you! And you just assume he'll be like everyone else - rolling his eyes and telling you to get over it if you ever cry in front of him. It works for a while, and he seems happy with you, so you make sure to keep it up for months.

But one day, you have nowhere to run.

The two of you are driving home after a night out together - John in the driver's seat as your head lolls against the passenger window, eyes blinking heavily as you try not to fall asleep with John's thumb rubbing small circles on your thigh. You're about to give in to the heaviness pooling behind your eyelids when you see it on the side of the road - a tuft of feathers from what used to be a happy little duck, now flattened by some driver who couldn't get out of the way fast enough, or someone who just didn't care to.

The calm, sleepy energy in the car suddenly shifts, and John steals a glance over at you only to take a double-take when he sees your lip wobbling as your eyes grow glassy. You try to tilt your head away from him to hide yourself from his view, but he's quick to gently squeeze your leg to try to pull your gaze over to him.

"Sweetheart? Hey, what's wrong, love?"

His tender coo is enough to send you over the edge, making your shoulders shake as a soft whimper escapes your lips. You try to choke out the words, but you're so ashamed to be crying in front of him that you can't even speak - so you just point lamely out the window before you bury your face into your hands and let out a sob.

"What?" His brows furrow in concern as he tries to discern what it is that's upset you. He tries to glance in the rearview mirror as he continues driving, but he's at a loss as you continue to let out the most heart-breaking sobs he's ever heard. "Love, what's happened?"

"T-The d-duck...." You manage to blubber out between tears, growing more and more embarrassed with each tear that rolls down your cheek. You're just waiting for him to degrade you, to tell her how silly you are for crying over something so stupid.

"Duck?" He doesn't seem annoyed with you, though - just confused. His hand hasn't once left your thigh, and he only pulls his eyes away from you to keep his attention on the road as he tries to soothe you with his touch. "What duck, my love?"

"S-Someone hit the-" Another little sob escapes from your lips, and he swears he feels his heart break when you bring your teary eyes up to look at him. "-the d-duck. On the road."

Oh, you soft, sweet little thing. His poor girl with an aching heart that harbors so much love and care that it can't help but spill over - making those pretty tears slip down your cheeks as you cling to his hand. The same hand that has spent its life torturing and killing, trained to hold a gun like it's second nature for the past two decades. Yet you still hold onto it like it holds the comfort you seek. And John? He'll do anything to give it to you.

He spends the rest of the night soothing you, trying to comfort you as you cry to him about how 'he must've been so scared, crossing the road all by himself. What if he has a duck family out there waiting for him? Maybe he was crossing the street to get to them...

And John never once teases you or criticizes you - he just holds you a bit closer as he brushes your tears away. It breaks his heart to see you so upset, but a part of him preens at the thought that you finally felt comfortable enough with him to show him the soft, vulnerable parts of you that you had hidden away forever.

The next day, he takes you to the park so you can feed the ducks in honor of their poor, fallen soldier - and he makes sure to hold you again when you start crying about the cute, baby ducklings trailing after their mom.

"They're just so cute...and small...and I can't help them! They could get hurt!" You blubber quietly, tucking your face into his shoulder as he runs his hands down your back to calm you. "I know, my love. I know. But mama's watching them, yeah? They'll be alright."

It's like you've broken a dam. Because now you can't seem to stop crying about every little thing around him. Broken plates, sad news articles, stained laundry, an empty restaurant with a 'grand opening' sign in the front. All of it sends you over the edge in an instant, and you always end up seeking John out for him to soothe you.

You're just waiting for the moment that he tells you that you're too much. He comes home after a hard day of work just to have to take care of you the second he gets back - of course he'd get tired of you at some point! Nobody has ever been kind to you when you showed them such an unguarded version of yourself, and you've just thrusted it upon him with no warning.

But he seems to revel in it. The thought of being the only one that you trust to see you in such a vulnerable state - soft belly exposed for him to take care of - it's like a drug he never knew he could get addicted to. You're a soft, sensitive thing, and he's more than happy to be the one to protect you from the harshness of the world, even if that means he has to soften himself up to meet you at your level.

He's never spoken to someone so gently in his life - kissing your tears away and cooing sweet words at you as he holds you on his lap, making up stuff about whatever you're upset about just so you can calm down - no, love...fish don't feel any pain, so fishing is alright. How do I know?....I read about it...yeah. See? They're fine...no need to cry, love.

And him being soft with you makes you cry, too. But those are his favorite tears to see - red rimmed eyes filled with relief and glistening like glass as you curl yourself closer to him, grateful to have finally found someone who will catch you when you fall into your feelings.

He'll never admit to it, but sometimes he sets you up to fall just so he can be there to catch you. He'd never make you sad on purpose, of course not, but when you come to him in tears because he left you a little love note on your favorite coffee mug before he went to work? Well, what kind of man would he be if he didn't kiss your damp, splotchy cheeks until you tire yourself out and fall asleep in his arms?

Not one he'd want to be, that's for sure.

[revelboo]

I saw your hc where the mechs use bits of themselves to make things for their mates

What if reader was a crafter, like they decide to make a really long scarf with their favorite color and their mechs color. So the scarf depending on its length could be used a bracket or ring, when the mech is full sized.

Idc which mech are used, just domestic fluff

-crafter

That’s cute!

Gift

Ratchet x Reader

• Servos sliding against the soft material in his colors, Ratchet glances at you in puzzlement. And he just freezes at the uncertain, almost shy look on your face. “You made this for me?” Even though he doesn’t need coverings like you do, his spark warms that you’d made him something with your own hands. From out of nowhere he thinks of conjunx gifts. A courting gift meant to represent a commitment, a desire to make a permanent bond. This isn’t the same, but maybe it’s done in the same spirit? Doesn’t know enough about humans to guess. Are you flirting with him?

• Embarrassed as he just keeps rubbing his servos against the scarf, his expression is so guarded that you can’t get a read on him. Can’t tell if he likes it or thinks it’s stupid. “You don’t have to wear it,” you manage, face heating. Know he doesn’t get cold like you do, that he doesn’t wear clothes, but you’d wanted to give him something. Thank him for taking care of you, being your friend. Even if you’re now stuck in the hell of the friend zone when you want something more. You’ve seen a few of the other Cybertronians being lovey and romantic with their humans in the rec area and maybe you’d resented it a tiny bit. Maybe you like him and want more than to just be friends. Sighing, you know there’s no maybe about it. You’re crushing hard.

• You hold out a hand like you’re wanting to take the scarf back from him and he pointedly drapes it around his neck, feeling the softness against his mesh to make him think of the softness of you. “You can’t just give a gift and then ask for it back,” he growls, servos pressing possessively against it. Pretending it’s a conjunx gift you’d made with those little hands for him. If it was and he’d accepted it, he’d be leading you to his berth. Spend the recharge cycle tangled in you. Optics hooded, he knows that’s not what you’re doing. Or want.

• He’s wearing it and your face heats even as you smile. Know he’s probably just humoring you, but he’s sweet to try just to make you happy. “It’s suits you. Very stylish,” you tease as he flips the end of the scarf dramatically over his shoulder. And he reaches, a big hand cupping your cheek as your breath hitches. Those blue optics serious as he slides a servo against you and you can’t say a word, breathless with anticipation. Thinking he has to lean down, has to kiss you now. That it’s inevitable.

• “Thank you, little one,” he says. Leaning down to gently bump his helm against you, and he watches you frown slightly. Why do you look almost disappointed? Your smile strained. Can feel your warm breath on him, smell the coffee you’ve been drinking and your hands land on his chassis. Before you go up on tiptoe, mouth brushing his. It’s electric, unexpected and over far too soon as you smile hesitantly. ‘You’re welcome,’ you whisper as he stares at you, lips parted. Wait. Was that a conjunx gift, then? Are you asking him to claim you? Growling he drags you back to him and kisses you.

[boy-eater11]

ℳ𝒶𝓀ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒹 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

Volt x reader x Eddie- Smut

- You come to them late at night unable to sleep. The breaker box boys have a fun idea to fix that issue, and you're more than happy to participate.

CW: Polyamory, Nsfw, Praise, Threesome, Eiffel Tower, Oral M! receiving, Gn reader but AFAB anatomy, Hair pulling, insomnia,

It was late. Ridiculously late. But, you had already spent several hours laying in bed staring aimlessly at the ceiling, and you hadn't managed to make any more progress towards actually sleeping.

That's how you wound up nervously standing outside of the upstairs hallway closet, still wrapped in your blanket, anxiously debating whether or not your insomnia was troubling enough to bother your boyfriends.

You knew they would come to your aide, although Eddie would likely be reluctant, they would likely do whatever they could to comfort you. You also knew how important it was that both of them got plenty of time to relax. Running the breaker box was draining for both of them, and you had regularly been the one insisting that they needed to rest.

Sighing deeply, you opened the closet door, knocking on the small metal door of the breaker box and rubbing your eyes. Next thing you knew, you were in the empty club, two tired and concerned faces looking back at you.

"It's awfully late live wire." Volt said, placing a gentle arm around your shoulder. "Is something the matter?" He planted a soft kiss on your temple.

You shook your head slightly and sighed. "I'm alright... just couldn't sleep...' you said, frowning slightly.

"Aren't you the one who always tells us to get more sleep?" Eddie huffed out, although his voice was still soft and laced with concern.

"I am...I'm really sorry to bother you I just-" you mumbled out.

"I'm just teasing live wire...I'm glad you came to us." Eddie said, smiling softly and taking his place on the other side of you.

"What's keeping you up? Anxiety? Too much Caffeine? Stress? Lay it all on us my dear.' Volt said softly, rubbing gentle circles onto your lower back.

You shake your head softly, letting your shoulders relax and pulling the blanket draped across them tighter to your chest. "Too much energy I guess..."

Eddie chuckled, rustling your hair affectionately. "Well, you're welcome to cozy up with us for the night."

You could almost hear the slight smirk grow on Volt's face at the suggestion. He leaned down slightly, his lips hovering slightly above your ear. "We could always...make you tired..." His deep seductive voice sent shivers down your spine.

Your cheeks warmed as your mind quickly became flooded with less than holy imagery. The words loomed in the air for a moment, before you softly turned to meet Volt's suggestive gaze. "Do you....have anything in mind?"

The boys exchanged knowing looks before turning their attention back to you. Suddenly making you realize, they did in fact have something in mind.

"We've been wanting to try something new. We understand if you don't want to but...we were wondering if we could... Eiffel Tower you." Eddie mumbled out, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

Your jaw might as well have been on the floor. You had considered the idea before, although you had never expected the two of them to bring it up so plainly. "Are you serious?" You say, your eyes wide with shock.

Volt nodded, smiling sweetly. "We love you live wire, so if it's not something you want we will drop it immediately but-"

Without a second thought, you pulled his lips against yours. Eddie chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing himself up against your back. As you pulled away from Volt, you were greeted by the dazed but excited expression on his face.

"You sure about this live wire?" Eddie said softly, leaving a trail of gentle kisses across the side of your neck. You nodded limply, a dopey smile growing on your face. "Yes... absolutely..."

Volt smirked, slamming his lips back into you. He slotted his leg between yours, pushing you even further against Eddie, who gave a soft groan that vibrated against his neck.

Your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself fully melt into the feeling of the two men pressed against you. You felt Eddie's hands begin to wander, slowly pulling the blanket off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

As soon as it hit the floor, their hands were on you. Volt had one reassuring hand on your cheek and the other resting on your hip. Eddie's arms were wrapped around you, one slowly shaking it's way underneath the hem of your top and resting against your lower stomach.

You whined softly, causing Volt to pull himself off your lips and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. "Oh live wire... you're so needy aren't you?" His voice sent shivers through you.

Eddie chuckled at his words, finally pulling his lips from your neck and smirking proudly at the already visible dark blotches littering your skin. "So fucking gorgeous...makes it hard to contain myself." He muttered, his voice dropping slightly.

You whimpered softly, a shiver running down your spine as you felt his fingers gently hook into the waistband of your pajama pants. "You're still 100% sure about this right?" Volt said, his hand releasing from your hip to grip onto his belt.

"Mhm...god yes please." you whine, meeting his gaze with a desperate intensity. In response he kissed you again, and in one motion unbuckled and removed his belt, tossing it off to the side.

As he pulled away from the kiss, you made the next move. Very swiftly removing his pants and letting them drop to the floor. He groaned softly in response, and Eddie chuckled. "Oh damn, you're even more desperate than I thought."

Eddie slowly pulled at the hem of your pants and panties, teasingly slowly sliding them over your hips and letting them fall, leaving you exposed to the two men. You let out a soft moan as his fingers slipped between your thighs, teasing running over your lips before sliding his hand out again, revealing the thick coat of wetness coating them.

Volt chuckled deeply at the sight, palming himself softly through his boxers. "Fuck...this is going to be amazing..." His voice trailed. You then slid his boxers over his hips, letting his hard cock spring out proudly. You felt Eddie's hand push on your upper back, as he pulled your bare hips against him. Forcing you into position between them.

You wrapped a hand tentatively around Volt's cock, pulling him into your mouth. He gave a deep groan, letting his head roll back slightly. Eddie ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel his hard cock though his pants.

You let out a needy moan, sending vibrations through Volt that made him shiver, causing him to wrap his fingers into your hair. You heard Eddie undo his belt, letting his pants fall to the ground as he slid off his boxers. He pressed himself back up against you, letting his hardness press up against your exposed wetness.

You moaned again, and Volt tightened his grip on your hair, Guiding your head to take him deeper into your mouth. You gagged softly, which caused him to let out a rough growl. "Shit... Eddie please fuck her already. I don't know if I can take this much longer."

Without another word, Eddie slipped himself between your folds, plunging himself into you. You moaned again, and he did too. You whimpered softly at the feeling, but continued to suck on Volt's cock eagerly.

Eddie very quickly established a pace, rocking his hips against yours and grunting as he felt your insides clench around him. You, similarly matched his pace against Volt's cock, feeling the hard tip slam against the back of your throat with each thrust.

With every rough thrust from Eddie, you let out a desperate moan around Volt, who groaned in response. Eddie grunted softly with each movement, his grip on your hips tightening as he slammed himself deeper into you.

"F-fuck live wire....we would have done this sooner if we knew you were gonna be so fuckin good for us." Eddie grunted out, gripping even tighter onto your hips. Volt let out a shaky chuckle in responding, tugging softly at your hair.

"You're doing so so well for us." Volt said, his voice coarse and shaky. You took him even deeper into the back of your throat, gagging slightly around his cock. Eddie groaned, feeling you tighten around him as you gagged.

"Shit... you're gonna make us both cum if you keep that up" Eddie huffed out, his cock twitching slightly as he quickened his pace. You moaned again, unable to respond but feeling your undoing similarly approaching.

Volt's head rolled back again, biting down hard onto his lip. "S-shit I might not be able to go much longer..." He whined out as you continued to take him deep into your mouth, his cock slamming into the back of your throat with each thrust.

Eddie chuckled, pushing himself harder into you, chasing his own release. "Neither will I...and I don't think they're gonna make it much much longer either." He groaned, feeling you twitch around him.

You shuddered slightly, your core tightening more and more with each second. You felt so full, your entire body felt enveloped by pleasure. You could hardly think, your mind almost completely empty.

Volt moaned, tugging on your hair again. "Mhn...how bout we all release at once?" His voice sent shivers through you. "You can be good and cum with us right live wire?"

You tried to respond, although your response came out as another moan as your mouth was still completely full of Volt's now pulsing cock. Eddie grunted again, his fingers almost digging into your hips as he continued to fill you.

"F-fuck...I'm almost there..." Eddie grunted out, his cock twitching inside you, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you that settled in your core. You felt yourself teetering over the edge, the knot in your stomach unbelievably tight.

Within seconds, you feel the knot inside you snap, accompanied by the two men filling you entirely. Volt pulled himself from your mouth, a trail of salvia and cum still leading from your now swollen lips to his cock. You swallowed eagerly, licking your lips to remove the last remnants of it as your body still shook.

Eddie's cum filled you, his cock twitching violently inside of you before slowly pulling out, leaving you suddenly feeling empty. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you back to rest against his chest and support you as you caught your breath. Volt wrapped his arms around the both of you, resting his head against Eddie's.

"Tired now?" Volt said, his voice strained and exhausted. You looked up, meeting the glazed over expressions of the two of them, no doubt matching your own.

"Completely exhausted." You remark, melting further against the two of them.

- (AN): thanks for reading! I'm working on a sub! Timothy timepiece fic rn, so check back soon if you want that! This is entirely unedited, so pls don't mind any spelling issues, I just wanted to get this out before too long.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Newlywed Solomon HCs

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: Things Solomon does now that he's officially married to you.

AN: Hi all! I'm trying to get myself out of a writing funk (my event requesters, I'm so sorry, I'm trying ☹️). Since the new app won't have the side characters until later, I decided to just make some headcanons for Solomon so my brain could un-mushify itself. Nightbringer was but a mere taste of what married life with Solomon could be like and I need more, lol.

Warnings: Reader refers to Solomon as "my love," lengthy (I got carried away), other than that, it's all fluff!

Newlywed Solomon who wakes you up in the morning with soft whispers of love in your ear. “I’m so lucky to wake up next to you. You have no idea how much I love you.” He holds you close, legs tangled, happily sharing his warmth with you as he presses soft kisses around your face, occasionally nuzzling his nose against your neck.

Newlywed Solomon who brings you coffee in bed. He knows how you like it and makes sure every measurement of milk, sugar, or creamer is perfect. It’s bitter… almost sour, despite the effort he puts in, but you’ve learned to hold your grimace as he sips his own beside you peacefully, his off hand thumbing over your knuckles.

Newlywed Solomon who sends little texts throughout the day if you’re apart. He wants to know if you’re thinking about him like he is of you. Expect anything from a meme he found, a gif of a cat, an emoji, or even a photo of himself showing what he’s up to. If you send a photo of yourself back, be prepared to have him spam you with heart reactions and words of love. He’s happy to know you’re safe and having a good day.

Newlywed Solomon who tries to keep up with housecleaning. He’s not particularly good at it, but he’s learning as he goes. You’ll find the bed sheets freshly washed and on the bed, though the fitted sheet is clinging to the corners of the mattress by a prayer. Sometimes one of his shirts ends up folded and tucked away amongst yours (you think this is on purpose so you’d see it and wear it). A lot of it he does with magic, but your kisses of encouragement make him want to do better each time without the added help.

Newlywed Solomon who mentions extending the family… in the form of cats. Easily agreeing, you both end up walking through a shelter with the hopes of rescuing a kitty in need. He stops in front of a cage with a pair of siblings inside, and after reading about how they’ve spent their lives in the shelter, he turns to you with misty eyes and a hopeful smile. That night, you bring home two kitties that are already spoiled by Solomon in the form of a large cat tower, a fluffy bed, and a bag full of toys, treats, and pretty collars.

Newlywed Solomon who loves matching with you. Matching robes hung side by side on the wall, matching mugs sitting patiently in the cabinet to be used, even matching toothbrushes that sit on either side of the bathroom sink. He’s even imbued your wedding rings with magic to connect your hearts so that every time you touch the banding, a soft pulse of the other’s heartbeat can be felt.

Newlywed Solomon who’s only allowed to watch as you prepare meals. He’ll quickly set the table before rushing over to hold you from behind. It’s the only way to keep himself from assisting, and besides, any moment holding you is a good moment. His help in the kitchen is in the form of grocery shopping, though he tends to get a little sidetracked from the list you wrote and you end up with a fully stocked inventory and random ingredients you have no idea what to do with.

Newlywed Solomon who’s devoted to your care when you’re under the weather. If you’re physically sick, he’s constantly checking your temperature, feeding you soup (that you requested he order), as well as offering some spells to cure/comfort whatever ails you. If you’re struggling mentally, he’s doing whatever he can to support you. Whether you need to be held as you cry into his shoulder or ask for a cup of tea and some space as you sort yourself out before confiding in him, consider it done. Your well-being is the most important thing to him.

Newlywed Solomon who loves spending quality time with you. Your legs rest on his lap as you sit opposite of him on the couch, watching something on TV, while he reads a book and strokes your calf mindlessly. He’s easily distracted, studying how you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re invested, the steady rise and fall of your chest, your little reactions to a sudden twist in the show. He loves how expressive you are in these calmer moments. You’re way more interesting than a thousand words on a page.

Newlywed Solomon who watches in awe as you get ready for the day. Laying against the headboard, his eyes trail along your scantly clad body while you sift through outfits. There is no lust in his eyes, just admiration for the person you are. He loves everything about you and he loves that you trust him to see you like this. He’s vocal when you ask for his opinion, but never cruel or hurtful as there’s never anything negative to say. To him, you look wonderful in any style and he hopes you’re able to see yourself the way he sees you.

Newlywed Solomon who lets himself get dragged off to bed when he stays up too late. Even when his eyes sting and neck aches, he finds it difficult to pull away from his work and finish it the next day. So, when the bed feels too big and cold, and you come looking for him, he’s grateful. Cuddled close in the bed after you generously cover him up more than yourself, fingers card through his hair, coaxing him to sleep easily. Through a crack in his droopy lids, the last thing he sees is you, smiling softly as you whisper words of love to him. “Get some sleep, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up, just like always.”

[bewitched-hours]

So umm I had an idea of reader being like a deity in the past before being forsaken. They knew Telamon and were really good friends and they both meet back in the cabin but not as gods (right because Telamon is now Shedletsky and reader is in their human form or idk how to explain that).

I don't really have a scenario in my head so write whatever you think of :D

And thank you for erlier!

Dear anon, thank you for this delicious meal- If you want, I'll make more of this but then I want to know if you want it platonic or romantic-

Reader's getting She/They, we need more goddesses-

You still remembered...

A past that made your feathers shiver.

Back when you were a goddess... Much too similar to Telamon...

But he eventually disappeared, leaving you to cover for him until you were finally taken in your mortal form.

In a way, you were even grateful to get away from it all. To start anew and make yourself less important.

You even made a couple of friends in this hellish realm! Some better, some worse.

But among your closest was Shedletsky. You saw him as just some silly guy who could bring up the mood with a simple joke and you two seemed to click pretty quickly through your similarities in humour.

You also both had wings. Neat!

It even got to the point where you'd help other take care of your wings further down, where it was hard to see by oneself.

You couldn't count on both hands how many times you've helped Shed out and vice versa. Hell, you memorized which spots make him jump the most if you ever just wanted to mess with him.

But you eventually decided to open up about your past...

"Shed... I gotta confess something but promise you won't be mad..." You began quietly, looking at the ground in front of you as he was working on your wings.

He was still all smiles, not showing a shred of concern as he nodded. "Of course! You can tell me anything!" He said cheerfully, as though you could do no wrong in his eyes.

So, you swallowed your anxiety and with a deep breath, the words simply slipped out. "I used to be a god... A cruel one..." You could feel him stop for a short while but he continued on, thanking him under your breath for not leaving right then and there.

"I regret who I was back then... I thought I was above everyone else and could do whatever. Didn't help that I managed to befriend Telamon back then..." Another pause, this time longer, but he hesitantly continued letting you talk. "Only when he disappeared did I gradually start to understand how wrong I was... I wasn't above anyone and I didn't have the spine to own up to what I did."

Silence. For seconds, minutes, and then...

"I know what you mean... Old friend."

Silence. For seconds, minutes...

"Tel?" Your voice sounded louder in the silence, staring ahead as tears pushed themselves out of your eyes.

More silence. Seconds, minutes...

"Guess we never really grow apart, do we?" He chuckled, causing a smile to form on your lips as you nodded along. "Yeah... We just keep following the same route in life..."

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[mikaylathenerd5]

Happy Birthday, Mrs. Reigns | R.R. Smut

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“You married me that night and then let him keep the wedding on the calendar.” - R

A/N: Wanted to post a birthday-themed post ❤️ Hope you enjoy it!!

Summary: It’s Asha’s first birthday as Mrs. Reigns, and nothing about it feels simple. Between complicated feelings, outside opinions, and everything left unsaid, she’s not sure how to celebrate herself—let alone this new chapter. But Roman? He always shows up when it matters most. And tonight, he has no intention of letting her forget exactly who she is… or who she belongs to.

Content Warning: This one-shot contains explicit sexual content (18+), emotionally vulnerable moments, mentions of past infidelity and relationship conflict, language, and themes of emotional tension and healing. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count: ~5.5k

The first thing Asha noticed was the silence.

Not the soft, morning kind—the one that greeted you with peace and sunbeams. No, this one was loud in its stillness. Empty. Familiar. The kind of silence that reminded you no one was coming.

Her phone screen lit up on the nightstand.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No texts. No “Happy birthday, baby” with a dozen heart emojis like he used to send when they first got engaged.

Just a silent lock screen. A picture of her and Zaire—taken at All-Star weekend. His hand on her waist, his smile perfect, his love polished.

She turned the phone over. Face-down.

Asha laid there for a while, one arm bent over her forehead, staring at the ceiling. The air was too warm. Her throat was dry. Her stomach… hollow.

She hated that feeling—expectation and disappointment getting drunk together in her chest.

But she’d told herself Zaire was the safe choice. The predictable one. The kind of man who looked good on paper and never missed a press appearance—even if he forgot her birthday. It was easier to stay than start over. Easier to pretend polished love was real love.

Her planner was still cracked open beside the bed, clinging to last week’s page.

Wedding Day – April 20th.

She crossed it out with the edge of her nail. Hard. Like that could scratch the whole thing out of her life.

Her phone buzzed again.

She grabbed it too fast—heart lurching—but it wasn’t Zaire.

ESPN.She didn’t bother opening it. Just swiped it away.

Then opened Instagram. Zaire’s story was ten minutes old.

A video. Him walking up the stairs to a plane, hoodie on, headphones over his ears. The caption:

✈️ Roadwork. See y’all tonight.

No tag. No mention. No "Happy birthday to my fiancée."

She closed the app. Locked her phone.

Her throat burned. Not from tears. From holding them in.

She used to love birthdays.

Counted down to them with giddy pride. Practiced her birthday wish like it could fix things. Like it could make people stay.

Birthdays were supposed to feel like magic. Like people waking up with you on their mind. Like candles and laughter and “I couldn’t wait to celebrate you.”

But somewhere between then and now, birthdays stopped being magic.

They just became reminders. Of who shows up. And who doesn’t.

Asha moved through the kitchen like she was underwater. Her birthday cupcakes still sat in a plastic container on the counter—three red velvet, untouched. She’d bought them herself. Stuck her own name on the label just so the cashier wouldn’t ask.

The lavender candle she meant to light was still sealed. The wine unopened.

She set both down gently. Her hand hovered over the lighter, but she didn’t reach for it.

He doesn’t even know today matters.

Asha didn’t realize she was whispering until the words caught in her throat.

Maybe he does know. And that’s worse.

The knock at the door startled her.

She froze.

Nobody just showed up.

She crossed to the door barefoot, tension in every step. One peek through the peephole—

A delivery man. Holding something round and black. Elegant.

She opened the door slowly.

“Delivery for Asha Langston,” he said with a polite nod. “Happy birthday.”

“…Thanks,” she murmured, stepping forward.

The box was heavy. She shut the door with her hip and carried it to the kitchen island.

It looked expensive. Velvet and matte. Her hands hovered over the lid for a second too long.

Then she lifted it.

Dozens of deep red roses. Arranged in a spiral, rich and velvety, full of perfume and color and care.

Tucked into the center was a small black velvet box.

She didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, she reached for it.

Inside was a delicate gold necklace, warm-toned and fine, the kind of subtle luxury that whispered. One small “R” charm curled next to a soft glint of blue-green—her birthstone. The color of ocean glass.

Her breath caught.

He remembered.

She hadn’t even remembered to wear jewelry today.

And he—

She opened the folded card pressed beneath the flowers.

To my favorite accident.Happy Birthday, Asha.You’re unforgettable.— R

Her fingers trembled.

Not from surprise. From the way it felt to be seen.

To be remembered like this. On purpose.

Zaire once told her birthstones were for horoscope girls. Said he didn’t believe in sentimental jewelry.

“Gold’s gold,” he’d said, when she told him once—quietly—that she loved pieces that felt personal.

She’d never brought it up again.

Now here she was. Holding something that felt like it had been picked just for her. Not for a crowd. Not for a caption. Just… her.

And it hurt.

Because it wasn’t Zaire who gave it to her.

Asha sank onto the couch, necklace in her palm, and stared at the flowers like they might disappear.

A memory flickered. Vegas. The hotel room. Roman’s voice in the dark:

“I notice everything about you.”

Back then, she thought it was just something men said when the lights were off. But now? With this necklace in her hand? She wasn’t so sure.

Her thumb brushed the “R” charm again.

She didn’t know what she felt. Not exactly. But it was sharp. And soft. And terrifying.

Her phone buzzed again on the counter.

This time, the name glowed across the screen:

ZURI 💅🏾 LOUD ASS.

Asha exhaled once.

Then reached for it.

“Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. I know that cupcake ain’t talking back to you.”

Asha sniffed quietly, pulling her sleeve over her hand. “I’m fine.”

“Mmhm. Get up. Café Mae. Twenty minutes. You need food, fresh air, and me. In that order.”

Click.

Asha stared at the screen for a second longer. Let herself breathe.

Then the phone buzzed again — same caller.

She picked up without saying anything.

Zuri didn’t miss a beat.

“Another thing—happy birthday, hoe. Love ya. Bye.”

Click.

This time, Asha smiled.

For real.

The café’s front windows breathed soft light onto the sidewalk. Asha leaned against the brick wall just outside the entrance, her phone still warm in her hand from Zuri’s call.

Zuri didn’t give her time to spiral. She never did.

The second Asha stepped inside, she spotted her best friend in the far booth — hair up in a clean, high puff, earrings big and bold, gold rings stacked like she’d been ready for war since sunrise. Zuri didn’t do halfway. And she didn’t pretend either.

Her eyes locked on Asha the moment she walked in, and her expression shifted. Not to pity — Zuri didn’t pity people — but to something gentler. Focused.

“You look like you been listening to Summer Walker and ignoring your vitamins,” she said, sliding a glass of pineapple juice across the table.

Asha let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. She sat down, adjusting the sleeves of her hoodie. No makeup. No jewelry—except the one thing she hadn’t been able to take off.

Zuri didn’t notice it at first. She was too busy waving the waitress over and talking about how she was gonna need extra syrup for her pancakes or else she’d flip the damn table. But eventually, as Asha reached for the honey for her tea, Zuri blinked. Then squinted. Then leaned in.

“Wait. What’s that on your neck?”

Asha froze. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That’s a gold chain. With an R. Is that your birthstone? Girl—”

“It was a gift.”

“From who? Wait—” Zuri stared at her. And then her voice dropped, quieter now. Sincere. “Did Zaire send that?”

Asha looked away. “No.”

Zuri blinked. Once. Twice. “So he didn’t even send you a text?”

“No call. No post. Just his assistant wishing me a happy birthday in our group chat.”

Zuri sat back, the humor gone now. Her brows were furrowed, her voice low. “And the man who married you drunk in Vegas sent you a necklace and remembered your birthstone?”

Asha nodded once. She didn’t have it in her to explain the roses. The note. The silence he gave her afterward so she wouldn’t feel cornered.

Zuri exhaled and leaned forward again. “So cancel the wedding.”

Asha blinked.

Zuri didn’t flinch. “You keep trying to act like you owe that man your life because he was safe. But what has safe actually done for you, Asha?”

Silence lingered between them. A waitress dropped off their plates and refilled the juice, but neither of them spoke until the clinking faded.

Then Asha finally said it. “Can you cancel the venue?”

Zuri paused, her face softening. “You serious?”

“I just… I can’t see it on my calendar anymore.”

Zuri nodded. Not dramatic. Not smug. Just Zuri. “Say less.”

Asha’s breath escaped her chest like a door had finally opened. She stared down at her plate. The syrup pooled into the corner like it didn’t want to touch anything.

“You want me to also cancel the part where you keep pretending he’s a good man?”

Asha smiled without lifting her head. “Start with the venue.”

They parted just outside the café. Zuri pulled her into a hug, tight and warm and brimming with everything Asha didn’t say out loud.

“Happy birthday, Ash. Go where the love is.”

Asha nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

She made it halfway down the block before her phone buzzed again.

ROMAN Happy birthday, Asha. I didn’t want to crowd your day… just wanted you to know you deserve to feel held, even when nobody’s watching. Hope today gave you at least a little bit of that. And if not… you know where I’m at.

She didn’t text back. But she read it twice.

And when she slipped the phone back into her coat pocket, her fingers brushed the gold “R” charm resting above her heart.

She was still smiling.

The sun had long dipped beneath the skyline by the time Asha stepped back into her apartment. The air felt heavier than usual—not stifling, but thick with the kind of stillness that came after too many thoughts had been left unspoken.

Warm light glowed from the kitchen, where her favorite candle sat on a warmer, quietly releasing the scent of vanilla and spice into the air. She didn’t light it today. Didn’t need open flame. Just wanted something soft. Something steady.

She slipped off her shoes and coat, toes curling into the floor as she poured herself a glass of wine. The stem felt cool in her hand, the weight familiar. Her gaze wandered—not on purpose—and landed on the bouquet still sitting on the dining table.

A vase of bold red roses sat near the window, fresh and dramatic. Tall black marble. Gold lettering along the base. Expensive without being loud. Thoughtful without needing to explain itself. The kind of arrangement that didn’t whisper affection—it declared it. Like Roman had known exactly what message he wanted to send without ever signing his name.

She hadn’t thrown them out.

She hadn’t even moved them.

She’d rinsed the vase. Refilled it with water. And sat them at the center of her apartment like some unspoken centerpiece to a day she didn’t know how to feel about.

The card was still beside it.

Unopened.

She took another sip of wine just as the knock came—three soft taps, deliberate and steady.

Her spine straightened. She set the glass down.

Checked the peephole.

Roman.

Black hoodie. Gray sweats. One hand in his pocket. The other carrying a matte black takeout bag with a gold emblem stamped on the side—Torenzo’s. The place she used to joke about being overhyped. Until he took her there once and she accidentally moaned over the risotto.

She opened the door slowly.

He didn’t speak.

His eyes flicked up and down, catching her at the edge of tiredness and tension, and then landing right where her collar dipped. Where the delicate gold chain glinted under the low kitchen light. Where the tiny “R” charm lay tucked beside her birthstone, warm against her skin.

“You wore it,” he said, voice low and unreadable.

She didn’t speak. Just nodded, her hand rising almost unconsciously to touch the charm. Her thumb brushed across the letter before she realized she was doing it.

Roman’s jaw flexed. He shifted slightly, the takeout bag rustling in his hand.

“Didn’t know if you’d eaten. Figured you deserved better than cold cupcakes.”

Asha blinked, something tightening in her throat. Zaire would’ve sent a text. Maybe.Roman showed up.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Not until her eyes caught the soft look on his face—restrained, but present.

She stepped aside.

He walked in—brushing past the bouquet without ever glancing at it—and set the food gently on the kitchen counter. She watched him move like he’d done it a hundred times before.

She opened her mouth, hesitated. “You didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, I did.” He paused. His voice dropped, rough at the edges. “Didn’t want you going to sleep thinking nobody showed up.”

A few seconds passed—too long, too quiet.

Then the door clicked shut behind them.

One Week Ago

The room looked like wealth. Gold-rimmed glasses, roses that had never seen a grocery store, a jazz trio tucked in the corner playing notes that didn’t dare interrupt the silence. The lighting was warm and low—not cozy, but curated. Asha sat at a table that felt more like a stage.

Zaire was beside her in a tailored dove-grey suit, quiet and unreadable, his phone face-down next to his water glass. Asha had matched the energy—sleek black dress, heels high enough to hurt, posture perfect. But none of it made the food taste better. None of it softened the knot in her stomach.

His mother had been speaking for ten minutes without a pause. The kind of woman who wielded compliments like warning shots.

“You’ve always been such a… challenge, Asha.” She said it sweetly, like a joke meant to land softer. It didn’t. “But that’s what makes things exciting, right? Keeps Zaire sharp.”

Asha blinked slowly. “Sharp must be exhausted.”

Zaire didn’t laugh. Didn’t correct his mother either. He just reached for his wine and sipped like he hadn’t heard a thing.

His father leaned back. “We’ve spoken to the planners.” Asha’s stomach tightened.

“Everything’s been pushed back. Venue. Catering. PR. It’s handled.”

He didn’t even ask. Just expected her to be thankful for the cleanup crew.

“You should be grateful,” he added, eyes locking on hers.And that was it. The line she couldn’t unhear.He looked straight at Asha. “You should be grateful.”

Her fingers tensed beneath the tablecloth.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“And yet we did. Because we clean up our son’s messes. Even when they’re not entirely his.” “You’re still planning to marry into this family, Asha. Consider what that requires.”

She caught her reflection in the polished silverware—expression still poised, chin lifted. Her silence was a skill now. But her tongue ached from biting it.

Zaire said nothing.

His mother folded her hands, eyes warm and cruel. “And hopefully, this wrestler situation doesn’t spiral. The announcement already embarrassed a few partners. But we’ll move forward.”

Asha tilted her head slightly. “Excuse me?”

His father didn’t pause. “Roman Reigns is a performer. Men like him thrive off chaos. They don’t think about how it reflects on women like you. You’re caught in the smoke of his spectacle. That’s why we stepped in.”

A slow, simmering beat passed.

Then Asha said, quiet but precise: “One of those men happens to be my brother.”

The jazz trio didn’t stop playing—but the tension in the room cut through every note.

His mother blinked. His father’s jaw moved but produced nothing. Even Zaire shifted, but only to adjust the cuff of his jacket. He didn’t say a word.

Asha folded her napkin neatly and placed it beside her plate. “So if we’re handing out gratitude, maybe offer a little back—for how long I’ve held my tongue.”She let the silence sit. “And for how much more I could say.”

Zaire looked down at his wine glass again.

Still. Nothing.

Something wilted in her chest.

“Excuse me,” she said softly, rising from the table.

She walked across the sleek marble, her heels echoing louder than any voice in the room. The bathroom door closed behind her with a soft click that felt like a slammed door.

Inside, she braced both hands on the sink.

Her breath came fast. Her chest tight. The mirror showed her the same face she’d walked in with—lipstick still sharp, lashes still full, bones still high. But her eyes...

Her eyes looked like someone who just watched a house she built burn to the ground—while the man inside refused to leave.

Her phone buzzed in her clutch.

1 Missed Call — Roman Reigns 10:14 PM

She stared at the name. Her thumb hovered.

But she didn’t press it. Didn’t call back.

She just held the phone tighter.

Present Day 

Now, that same hoodie from that night was clinging to Roman’s frame as he stood in her doorway.

Takeout bag in one hand. Silence in the other.

His eyes flicked to the necklace resting on her collarbone. “You wore it.”

She nodded. No words yet.

She felt that in her chest.

Her hand drifted unconsciously toward her ring—his ring—and then stopped.

“It was supposed to be a mistake,” she murmured.

Roman’s jaw flexed once. But his voice didn’t rise.

“You wore my name,” he said. “You’re still wearing it.”

Her throat tightened.

“That boy doesn’t have a chance,” he went on, casual but cutting. “I don’t give a fuck what that boy got to say. Or your lame-ass brother either.”

Her brow rose—but not in protest. It was the truth of it that made it hard to argue.

“He treats you like a PR move,” Roman said. “Like you’re something to bring out when he needs to look a certain way. Then he forgets you the second it’s not convenient.”

Asha looked away.

“I just wanted you to feel like someone showed up,” he finished, voice softening again. “Even if it was just me.”

She didn’t speak right away.

Roman held up the black-and-gold takeout bag. “Torenzo’s.”

Her brows shot up. “You remembered that?”

“You only said it once.” His voice was quiet but steady. “I listen when it’s you.”

Asha turned, lips parting slightly. There wasn’t a good response to that. She moved to the kitchen, pulling two plates from the cabinet. He helped unpack everything—grilled sea bass, truffle risotto, charred broccolini, still warm bread with rosemary butter.

Roman plated hers first. No rush, no instructions. Just care.

They sat down on the couch, not shoulder-to-shoulder but close enough that the tension hung between them like humidity—undeniable, heavy, waiting.

She sipped her wine. He didn’t drink.

They ate quietly at first.

Until Asha caught herself watching the way he cut his food, his shoulders relaxed for once. She swallowed hard and took a breath.

“This feels weird,” she admitted.

Roman didn’t look up. “Eating with your husband?”

Her gaze jerked to his face.

He finally met her eyes and gave the smallest smile. “Still feels real to me.”

She blinked—once, then twice—and looked down at her plate.

He reached for the bread, split it in half, and passed her a piece like it was second nature. Like they’d done it before. Like he’d always be that steady hand.

And suddenly she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t miss that kind of ease.

After dinner, Roman stood up and crossed to the counter again.

She watched him open the bakery box with practiced care, then pull out one cupcake—deep red velvet, piped high with cream cheese frosting, dusted in edible gold flakes.

From his hoodie pocket, he pulled a single candle.

He lit it using the small glass lighter sitting near her wax warmer.

Then he turned and brought the cupcake over slowly, holding it in both hands like something sacred.

“Make a wish,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “And don’t lie about what you really want.”

Asha stared at him. At the way the flame made his eyes softer. At the necklace he gave her resting against her collarbone.

She blew the candle out.

Roman didn’t move.

She reached for him first.

Her fingers curled into the front of his hoodie. She kissed him slow—no rush, no edge, just everything she hadn’t said out loud.

He tasted like dinner and quiet devotion.

When he pulled her in, his hand went to the small of her back and didn’t move. The other braced behind her on the couch—his grip tight, fingers flexing against the cushion like he was barely holding back. Asha gasped into his mouth

“You want something real?” He murmured. 

She nodded.

“Then stop pretending you don’t already have it.”

His mouth found hers again, hungrier this time. The kiss turned from soft to aching in a heartbeat.

The red velvet cupcake sat forgotten. The candle burned down in the kitchen behind them.

His knuckles brushed her bare thigh—slow, reverent. She was still in her lounge shorts and a soft, ribbed tank. Her body was tense beneath the quiet. But not pulling away.

His voice came low, almost inaudible. “Let me see you.”

Asha nodded.

Roman leaned in, mouth grazing hers with a kiss that lingered. Not rushed. Not rough. Just full. He kissed her again. And again. Until her shoulders dropped and her chest rose to meet his. Until her breath hitched and her hand found the curve of his jaw like muscle memory.

Then his hands moved—down her body, gripping the hem of her shorts. He tugged gently, knuckles grazing the underside of her thighs as he drew them down. Her panties came with them, damp from everything he’d already done to her with words alone.

He didn’t break eye contact.

Didn’t ask permission again.

Roman knelt between her legs like he belonged there.

Like she was some divine offering and he was starving on his knees.

His hands wrapped around her thighs, spreading her open with quiet reverence. His breath coasted over her center, warm and steady—teasing her without even touching. Asha felt the way her body pulsed for him, the way her thighs tried to close on instinct. Roman growled low in his throat and gripped tighter.

“Nah,” he murmured. “You been acting like this don’t belong to me.”

Then he licked her.

Long and slow.

One smooth stroke of his tongue up her slit, tasting every drop like he was collecting her on his tongue. Asha let out a trembling breath—but Roman wasn’t satisfied with that.

He flattened his tongue against her clit and held it there, not moving, just applying pressure, just waiting.

It worked.

Her hips lifted, lips parting on a sharp gasp. Roman smiled against her. “There she is…”

Then he got to work.

He licked her with slow, controlled precision, alternating between dragging his tongue up her folds and circling her clit. Every stroke was deliberate. Every motion a study in restraint. He was savoring her, not just going through the motions. Tongue firm. Mouth warm. Beard grazing her thighs just enough to make her squirm.

“Fuck, Roman—” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.

He sucked her clit into his mouth instead. Soft at first. Then harder. Then he let it pop free with a low moan that vibrated straight through her. Asha’s body jolted, fingers digging into the cushion beside her.

Roman didn’t stop.

He tilted her hips up slightly, locking one arm under her thigh while the other hand slid up to her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, slow circles that made her cry out. At the same time, his tongue flattened again, licking fast, building heat. He alternated between that and teasing flicks over her clit, stopping only to breathe her in, to taste her like he never wanted to forget.

Asha gripped the couch, her body teetering between pleasure and panic. It felt too good—too personal. Like he knew things about her she hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t know whether to run from it or fall apart.

“You shaking already?” he teased, voice hoarse. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Then he buried his face deeper.

Sucked harder.

His tongue moved with brutal control—slow when she needed fast, fast when she thought she couldn’t take more. He read her like a map, adjusting with every whimper, every arch, every time she whispered his name like a secret.

Her thighs were trembling now.

Her hands slipped down to his head, fingers threading through his thick curls, trying to ground herself. Roman grunted, and the vibration pushed her over the edge.

She came with a soft cry, her body locking up, thighs trying to close around his face. Roman didn’t let her. He held her open and kept licking—softer now, coaxing her through it, letting her ride the aftershocks as his lips ghosted over her sensitive clit.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth and beard were wet.

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, then sucked the taste off his fingers, eyes locked on hers.

“Better than that sorry-ass birthday text you didn’t get, huh?”

Asha could barely breathe.

Roman stood, reached for the waistband of his sweats, and freed himself with one hand. He stroked slowly, watching her squirm, the “R” charm still resting right over her heartbeat.

“You ready?” he murmured, voice deep, thick with want.

“I’ve been ready,” she breathed.

He smirked.

And that’s when he moved in closer—cock thick, heavy, lined up just right.

Roman dragged the swollen head of his cock through her slick folds—slow, deliberate. Teasing her overstimulated clit just enough to make her gasp again.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “That’s what happens when I taste what’s mine.”

Her thighs parted wider.

And Roman didn’t wait anymore.

He slid in deep.

Asha’s back arched off the couch with a gasp so sharp it knocked the wind out of her. He filled her in one long stroke, thick and pulsing, her walls stretching to take every heavy inch. It wasn’t rushed—just inevitable. Like gravity. Like a promise made flesh.

Roman groaned low in his throat, his forehead dropping to hers.

“Fuck… You’re always so warm,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Always pullin’ me in like you need me.”

He rolled his hips, grinding into her, staying deep. Asha whimpered. Her hands flew to his back, nails raking across tan skin, needing more. Needing him.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you missed me.”

She whimpered again, breath stuttering. “I missed you.”

Roman’s lips ghosted across her cheek, his hips slowly pulling back.

Then he thrust again—hard.

Her moan was sharp, raw, swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her. His thrusts picked up, fast and deep, hitting every nerve ending like a punishment wrapped in a prayer.

“You married me,” he panted. “That night… you said I do.”

She didn’t answer—not out loud.

Her legs wrapped around his waist tighter, drawing him in closer, her body giving him her truth.

Roman’s mouth crashed into hers again, rougher this time. Messier. His fingers tangled in her curls as he fucked her through the silence. Sweat formed between them. Her necklace glinted between her breasts like it belonged there.

“You still wearing my name,” he groaned. “Still letting me inside you like this—like you know nobody else can touch you like this.”

Asha cried out, her hands gripping the back of the couch. Roman’s hand slammed against it too, fingers flexing against the cushion, holding himself back by a thread.

He pulled out slightly—just enough to make her whine—and then drove back in, rougher this time.

“That boy,” he said, voice nearly breaking with frustration, “he forgets your birthday. I remember how you breathe when you come.”

His hand slid between their bodies, thumb finding her clit. She jolted. Her thighs clenched. The rhythm faltered—then deepened. She shattered beneath him, crying out his name like it was the only language she knew.

“Say it,” he grunted, lips at her ear. “Say who you belong to.”

“You—fuck—you.”

“That’s right.”

He fucked her harder, the couch creaking under them, her legs locked around his waist now.

Roman’s face hovered just above hers—eyes wild, mouth open, breath harsh. And then he slowed.

Ground his hips deep.

Rolled them.

Until Asha was sobbing beneath him, clutching at his back like she didn’t know where her body ended and his began.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers. “You hear me?”

She nodded, her voice a shaky whisper. “I hear you.”

And when she came again—body clenching, hips bucking, vision blurring—it was with his name falling from her lips like worship.

Roman followed seconds later, his moan guttural, drawn from the base of his spine as he buried himself inside her one last time.

Then silence.

Just the sound of their breathing, and the quiet weight of what couldn’t be unsaid anymore.

Roman didn’t move right away. Just brushed his thumb over her cheek, then down to the “R” charm resting on her chest.

His voice was quieter now. Still rough. Still sure.

“Happy fucking birthday, Mrs. Reigns.”

The only sounds left in the room were the rise and fall of their breathing and the occasional shift of fabric beneath their bodies. Sweat cooled on Asha’s skin as Roman eased back, chest rising with the weight of what they didn’t say.

He didn’t rush. He never did when it mattered.

Roman’s hand lingered at the dip of her waist, fingers flexing lightly like he didn’t want to lose contact yet. Like if he let go too fast, she might float away.

Without a word, he sat up, slipped off the couch, and disappeared down the hall. She heard the faucet run. When he returned, a damp towel hung from his hand, warm and fresh.

Kneeling beside her, Roman cleaned her with a reverence that didn’t need language. He moved slowly, wiping between her thighs like she was something precious, not something he’d just fucked into breathless silence.

When he looked up, his eyes weren’t clouded with lust anymore. Just clarity.

“You good?” he asked gently.

Asha nodded. But something in her eyes made him pause.

Roman leaned up, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I mean more than that.”

She didn’t answer, and he didn’t push. Instead, he stood, bare still, and crossed to grab the hoodie he’d tossed over the kitchen stool earlier. As he slipped it on, he pulled something small from the pocket—a black envelope, no larger than his palm.

He placed it down beside her. No speech. No drama.

She blinked at it. Then at him.

Roman offered her a look—steady, unreadable, heartbreakingly soft. Like he had one foot out the door, but his heart hadn’t followed.

Asha sat up, the blanket gathering at her waist. Her voice came quietly:

“…You don’t have to go.”

Roman stilled. Then turned.

She lifted her chin, eyes vulnerable but resolute. “Stay.”

There was a beat. A flicker of something fragile in his gaze.

Then, Roman nodded. Not rushed. Not smug. Just real.

He crossed back to her and slipped under the blanket without hesitation, like her body was the only place that made sense. She melted into him, head against his chest, heartbeat syncing with his. One of his arms tucked under her neck. The other wrapped around her waist, grounding her.

“You feel safe?” he asked, voice low in her hair.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

They lay like that for a long time. No noise but the city outside and the soft hum of comfort finally allowed.

A buzz broke the stillness.

Asha’s phone lit up across the table.

Zaire. Calling.

Roman looked at the screen. Then back at her. “You want me to grab it?”

“No,” she said.

He waited.

Then reached for it himself. Answering wasn’t on the table. He just pressed silence, flipped it screen-down, and returned to her.

“He doesn’t get to interrupt this,” Roman murmured. “Not after forgetting the day you were born.”

Asha didn’t reply, but her hand curled into the fabric of his hoodie. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the warmth of him, of this night, of everything she thought she didn’t deserve.

After a while, she reached for the envelope.

Inside was a single card. No gold trim. No extravagant message.

Just ink. Just him.

Let me know when you’re ready to be loved out loud. — R

Her throat tightened.

She looked down at her left hand—where the slim gold wedding band rested against her skin. Still there. Still hers. She’d never taken it off, not even when she should’ve.

The “R” charm on her necklace caught the glow, resting over her pulse like a quiet truth finally speaking.

Roman wasn’t asleep. She could feel his gaze on her even with her back turned.

“You’re not just a wish I made,” she whispered, thumb grazing the card. “You feel like the answer.”

He didn’t say anything.

But the way his arm pulled her closer, the way he kissed her shoulder, said more than words ever could.

She didn’t need to make another wish.

She was already wearing it.

Author’s Note: This one’s soft, a little messy, and full of unspoken feelings. Asha’s not sure how to celebrate herself—but Roman makes sure to always remind Asha what she deserves.

Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed this, make sure to check out the masterlist for more stories and join the taglist so you never miss an update. Your support means everything. 🤍

[judesmoonbeauty]

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

We couldn’t catch a carriage after work, so we were walking down the street at night.

(The moon’s so pretty tonight…..)

Reflecting on the Thames, the moon is a perfectly round, soft, creamy color.

The cool night breeze paired with the lovely moon made me feel both refreshed, and my steps lighter.

Not long after, I was walking a step ahead of Jude.

Jude: Ain’t helpin’ ya if take a tumble.

Kate: Pff- Yes, I know.

Having said that, I know that if I really do fall, he’ll help me.

Jude: ……Kate.

Kate: Yeah? Oh!

When I turned at my name being called, something was suddenly tossed to me.

The character for “to thow” is used. However, it can also mean “to toss.” Given the distance from each other and the setting, I feel like toss is more appropriate than throw.

Kate: What’s with the random box?

Jude looked more serious than usual.

Jude: Just open it.

Sensing that something was out of the ordinary, I gingerly opened the box given to me, and found a silver ring inside—

Kate: Jude, what is this….

When I looked up in shock, he appeared exasperated.

Jude: Daft princess, dont’cha get what it means?

Kate: Huh?

Jude: Guess not. Yer a perverted masochist who doesn’t know when to quit, who keep’s comin’ at me, ‘n who’s so foolish it makes me wanna weep.

Kate: Why are you saying mean things about me?!

However, he was looking straight at me, so his insults didn’t even register.

Jude: But yer the only one I have.

The night breeze passes between us, leaving space for one person.

Jude: Ya didn’t ridicule my dream about goin’ to the moon, ‘n ya accepted us cursin’ each other.

Jude: Yer the only woman who can laugh like an idiot, ‘n keep her resolve.

The moonlight shone upon us like we were the only ones in the universe.

Jude: My mind’s been made up since the day I started goin’ steady with ya.

Jude: To give ya my last name. Marry me, Kate.

His words strike my heart, warming my entire being and causing tears to well up in my eyes.

While I was unable to contain my sobs any longer, Jude gave me the most gentle smile I’d ever seen.

Jude: S’what’s it gonna be, Kate.

I nodded repeatedly as I wiped away my tears.

Still, they start pouring again as I clutched the ring and cried out.

Kate: Please make me your wife, Jude!

He laughed at my weepy reply.

Jude: That’s damn fine answer.

He hugged me, smiled as he wiped away my tears and kissed me—

The morning after the happy proposal, I was taking a walk while staring at the engagement ring when Ellis appeared.

Ellis: Oh, that’s...

Kate: Oh, this is...

Ellis smiled before bringing up Jude.

The line literally reads, “Ellis smiled before speaking to Jude.” However, Jude isn’t present at the time as you’ll see in the line below, and he never directly speaks to Jude, so I opted to translate the line this way.

Ellis: Jude finally gave it to you. Congratulations, Kate.

Kate: ….Finally?

As I tilt my head, Ellis whispers.

Ellis: Jude’s been preparing to give you a ring for a long time now Kate.

Kate: What…..

In astonishment I try to look at the ring again, but a hand reaches out from behind and hugs me.

Jude: The hell ya blabberin’ on about.

When Jude appeared, Ellis grinned and silently waved his hand as he walked away.

(So he’s been getting this ready for a long time….)

Jude: What’cha smilin’ fer?

Kate: Heh…..

As I smiled at the surprising fact I just learned, he grabbed my cheeks and forced me to look up.

His amethyst eyes were annoyed, but still looked at me lovingly.

(Yeah….I’m so hopelessly in love with this guy.)

I wanted to tell him just how much I love him.

Kate: Jude, I love you.

Kate: I’ll love you forever.

In both lines, Kate uses “大好き” (Daisuki), which means to “like very much.” It is holds a lot of affection, and is more commonly used to express love.

He blinked in surprise at my declaration and then instantly changed his expression.

Jude: I love you.

Jude uses the kanji “愛” (Ai). If you don’t know this is a HUGE thing to say….especially for him. It also means "I love you", but it's used very rarely. Typically only for special occasions such as proposals, weddings, deathbeds, that sort of thing. It carries the weight of unconditional or sacrificial love, and loving for the other person’s sake.

Smiling softly, he kissed my lips.

To fulfill our promise to curse each other until the very end—

I will live with you.

[Event Master List]

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[platypus-brained]

Is Linda a bad Mom?

Is this a “yes” or “no” question? Is it more complicated? Ultimately, that’s up to you!

Is she the best cartoon Mom? No, she has obvious flaws but in my opinion she’s not all bad! Especially compared to Doofenshmirtz’s Mom!!!

But I understand why some people don’t like her and viewer perspective plays a key role. A younger audience is more likely to see Linda as a bad Mom, while an older audience is more likely to see the bigger picture (and it can depend on the amount of times you’ve watched the show)

Angry that Linda doesn’t see what the boys do? Yes, it can be very annoying but it’s not really her fault because the show intentionally keeps Linda unaware if we apply real world logic, so the real blame is the “mysterious force” and the script

Also Linda’s in her 40s to 50s so it makes sense she’s struggling to believe or keep up with her hyper 15 year old daughter (16 in the revival) but she still continuously answers her phone to come home and lets Candace drag her to the backyard

Think that Linda calls Candace “crazy” or is a “dismissive” or “neglectful” Mom? Yes, there are instances that support this but think about real world logic again because we the viewers see everything but Linda doesn’t. Also think how when Candace screams at Linda that the boys have build some crazy thing EVERY single day and Linda repeatedly doesn’t see anything then those words lose all meaning

How you’d feel if you had someone who kept interrupting you every time you were shopping, cooking, watching a movie, hanging with friends, at the dentist, sleeping, etc to try to show you something you never actually see? Linda has dealt with that for months if not YEARS

You can roll your eyes at me, but admit there’s truth in the points I’ve made! If you can’t see it then you’re in denial just like how Linda’s in denial that her kids have more than “overactive imaginations”

Anyway, I’m going to go over some episodes in non-chronological order that indicate Linda is a good parent (not perfect but not bad)

Don’t like long posts? Then this isn’t for you😅

(By the way, I’m not counting what Linda does in “Phineas and Ferb get Busted” because that was a dream within a dream within a dream)

• In the episode “Mom’s Birthday” Linda is shown to love and appreciate everything that her kids do for her! And even though she's unaware that Candace’s efforts were unintentionally overshadowed by what Phineas and Ferb did, Linda does mention more than once that she doesn’t want the boys to overdo it:

“Oh, wow. You boys really outdid yourselves.”

“Oh, those boys are too much!”

“Oh, I hope the boys don’t go overboard with my present.”

And she asks where Candace is because she wants to spend time with her too: “Candace? Candace? Where’d she go?” Then later she asks Candace to sit next to her: “Candace, honey, come join us. The boys have put together a little video.”

Then Phineas and Ferb’s video reveals the song Candace wrote:

Phineas: “But a true testament to what a great Mom you are, is that your daughter would take the time to write this song.”

*The video reveals Candace practicing her “I Love You Mom” song in the music room*

Linda shreds a tear and goes over to hug Candace then says, “What a beautiful song, honey!”

And tells Lawrence on a video call: “The boys threw me the greatest party. And Candace wrote me this really amazing song.” Which brings a smile to Candace’s face!

(-> Here’s Candace’s full song on YouTube <-)

• Speaking of birthdays, in “Candace Loses Her Head” Linda makes Candace a birthday breakfast: “Happy birthday, Candace! I made you a special breakfast!” *holds a plate with a stack of pancakes with whipped cream, syrup, and a birthday candle on top*

Then the boys make them go to Mt. Rushmore and Linda offers to buy Candace anything she wants in the gift shop (at least she’s trying)

Linda: “Okay, Candace. It’s your birthday, you can pick out anything you want. Ooh, what about the Mt. Rushmore bobble head?”

Candace: “Mom, that's lame.”

But during the end credits Jeremy gifts Candace the same Mt. Rushmore bobble heads because he saw her looking at them and she immediately loves it and calls today the best birthday ever

Also before Linda can see the statue of Candace’s face it explodes with lava but Linda mistakenly believes Candace was talking about the president monument and says: “You're right! It's beautiful! *hugs her* Happy birthday, honey. *kisses Candace on the cheek* Now let's go find your father.”

• Another birthday episode is “Phineas’ Birthday Clip-O-Rama!” where Linda is shown frosting the cake for her son’s birthday party: “Where are you, Candace? You promised you’d help frost the cake after you got Phineas’s present.” And later serving it to the party guests: “All right, everybody. *standing next to a cake with a Phineas ornament on top* Who wants cake?”

• In “Out of Toon” Candace tries to call Linda and her voicemail says: “Hi, this is Mom. Leave your psychotic rant about the boys when you hear the beep.”

And before you go Ah ha! Proof Linda’s a bad Mom! listen to the voicemail Candace leaves: “Uhh! Mom, come home quick! There’s a giant mob, I’m a super fiend, I’m roasting them with laser vision! Hey, what do you mean, psychotic rant?”

Candace is talking about how Phineas and Ferb made her the super villain in their cartoon show (ironic) but her wording definitely doesn’t help her case of it not being a “psychotic rant” and at the end of the episode this exchange happens:

Linda: “Well, I’m here. Now, where’s this giant animation studio?”

Candace: “It got up and it danced away.”

Linda: “It what?”

Candace: “It got up and it danced away.”

Linda: “It got up and danced away…?”

Candace: “See? It even sounds crazy when you say it. I'll be in my room.”

• Another time Candace says something unbelievable to her Mom (that I want to bring up because it’s funny) is in “Split Personality” when Candace tells her the boys “made” her:

Busting Candace: “Mom, Phineas and Ferb made me!”

Linda: “Um, I’ve got some stretch marks that would say otherwise.”

Busting Candace: “No, I mean, they split me in half! Well, not like I’m cut in half, but they’ve made another me.”

• In “Tour de Ferb” Linda just got out of the shower and Candace picks up her up against her will and puts her Mom in her bicycle basket while Linda’s only wearing towels and a robe but instead of getting super mad about this (wouldn’t you?) Linda is glad that she picked that day to wear her bike helmet into the shower

Candace: *picks Linda up* “I know where the last obstacle is. Hee-hee-hee-hee.”

Linda: “Whoa! Whoa! *gets placed in the bicycle basket* Candace, I'm not even dressed!

Candace: “Sorry Mom, it’s an emergency!”

Linda: “Luckily, I picked today to wear my bike helmet into the shower.”

• In “Lawn Gnome Beach Party of Terror” Linda gets worried when Candace hasn’t called her like usual and leaves the spa to go see what’s wrong: “Something is very wrong. Not a single call from Candace. *checks her phone* Not even a text message. Oga hose me down. I'm going home.”

Then she calls Candace while driving home:

Linda: “Uh, Candace? Is everything okay?”

Candace: “Ohh, everything is just wonderful...”

Linda: “And...Phineas and Ferb? What are they doing?”

Candace: “Ohh, such wonderful things...”

Linda: “Candace, honey, I’m coming home.”

Candace: *breaks out of trance* “Wait, WHAT?”

Linda: “I’m right around the corner; I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Candace: “Wait! No Mom, you can’t!”

This is the first time we see Candace have fun with her brothers instead of trying to bust them, but her unusual behavior worries Linda enough that she leaves in the middle of her spa day to go home to see what’s going on to cause this change in routine. Sure, she “ruins” Candace’s time with Jeremy but it's mostly out of concern

• Something similar happens in “Tree to get ready” where Phineas and Ferb and Candace and Stacy are having a treehouse robot fight but Linda wonders why Candace hasn’t called:

Linda: “Hmm. That’s funny. I haven’t gotten the usual call from Candace.*gets phone out and calls her* Candace, honey, I’m at the car-wash, and I’m be heading home very soon. Bye bye.”

Candace: “Oh, no!”

Again Linda unintentionally “ruins” the fun but it works out in this episode since they all race back home and the treehouse robots break into normal treehouses before Linda gets there:

Linda: “Looks like you’re having fun.”

Phineas: “Well, Mom, you know what they say-” *Candace and Stacy throw a water balloon at him*

Ferb: “Fun never falls too far from the tree house.” *Also gets hit by a water balloon*

• In “It’s a Mud, Mud, Mud, Mud World” Linda goes to her cooking class and her cooking instructor breaks her phone after Lawrence called her about the boys having a monster truck in the backyard:

Chef Guilbaud: “Ahem. Madam Flynn, I have told you a hundred times, *uses meat tenderizer to break phone* No phone calls in class!”

Funny enough, his phone rings but it’s actually Candace asking to speak with Linda, implying this happened often enough that she has her Mom’s cooking instructor's contact information but Linda still picks up the phone despite being glared at and threatened

Candace: “Mom, I think the boys are building a monster truck.”

Linda: “Um, honey, I gotta go. No- B-Big chef. Big meat tenderizer in front of Mommy! Bye bye.”

• In “Ask a Foolish Question” she makes Phineas and Ferb homemade granola bars:

Linda: “Hey boys, want some fat-free whole-grain granola bars? They're still warm from the oven.”

Phineas: “Whole-grain and fat-free? *They each take a granola bar* You know us so well.”

Linda: “Yes, yes I do.”

Then the boys end up building a super computer just to ask it what’s the nicest thing they can do for Mom that day:

Phineas: “You know, Mom's always doing nice things for us. I think it's time that we did something nice for Mom!”

Then Linda goes out to use a coupon for a free hair styling from a new salon but she comes home with bags under her eyes and ugly yellow hair 

Candace: “Mom! Mom! Mom! Mo…*Stops when she sees Linda’s hair* Uhhhh....”

Linda: “I’m having a bad day.”

Candace: “Uh, never mind. Come on, come on, come on! *Pushes Linda into the backyard with eyes closed* It’s over here! It’s over here! See?”

And when Linda doesn’t see the giant super computer she complains that it’s too much that day: “You know, Candace, most days, this is just a little disturbing. But today, with the free coupon and this whole awful thing with my hair…”

But if you remember Phineas and Ferb had followed the super computer’s instructions and unknowingly fixed her hair:

Phineas: “We did something nice for Mom! We fixed her bad hairdo. Apparently.”

• In “Journey to the Center of Candace” (and in most other episodes) Linda takes an interest in what her kids plan to do that day

Linda: “What a beautiful summer day. Do you boys have anything exciting planned?”

Phineas: “We’re either gonna make this nuclear-powered submarine or this incredible shrinking ray. But for some reason, Ferb and I can't seem to make up our minds.”

Linda: “Well, I’ve made up my mind. *hugs Phineas and then hugs Ferb* You two have the most wonderful imaginations.”

But she’s in denial that her sons aren’t playing pretend so there’s a clear disconnect (too bad she’s unaware she’s a cartoon character)

Candace: “It’s real, you know.”

Linda: “What’s real, dear?”

Candace: “The submarine? The shrinking ray? They’re really gonna build that stuff.”

Phineas: “Well, actually we haven’t decided yet- *Candace uses her spoon to push Phineas away by his nose*

Candace: “Anyway, when I try to bust them, everything will just magically disappear. Always happens. you’ll see. Well, you won’t see. I'll see, trust me.”

Linda: “As usual, the imagination in this room is astounding!”

Hey, at least we know where Phineas gets his “oblivious genes” from

Also it’s hinted that her kids enjoy Linda’s cooking:

Phineas: “Ah tacos. You know who makes the best tacos? Mom!”

• In “Bee Day” Linda mentions how she and Candace played in an inflatable wading pool when she was little after seeing one: “Oh, look at that, an inflatable wading pool. Oh, it’s just like the one I used to play in with Candace when she was little. Remember, hon?”

This gives Phineas and Ferb the idea for what they’ll do that day. Then when Candace takes a teen identity magazine test and it tells her that she’s emo Linda is supportive: 

Linda: “Hi, honey. Love the new look.”

Candace: “You obviously don’t know me. Nobody does. And if somebody did, I’d just deny it.”

Linda: “Sweetie, I went through a similar phase when I was your age. Try writing some poems.”

Candace: “Whatever. I don’t care, No one gets me... Except my hair.”

Linda: “That's my girl.”

Candace is later seen writing poems under the tree, which means she followed Linda's suggestion. Bees deflate the giant inflatable wading pool before Linda comes outside to offer everyone iced tea, but she joins some kids in Candace’s old Ducky Momo one:

Linda: “Hey, kids! *Comes out with a tray with a pitcher and glasses of iced tea* Anyone up for some iced tea?”

Phineas: “Sure! Thanks, Mom!”

Linda: “Oh, look! You kids found Candace’s old wading pool! How sweet!”

Phineas: “We’re gonna have a pool party! Go ahead, wade away!”

Linda: *Dipping feet into the pool with Isabella, Holly, and Gretchen* “Aw, it’s just like old times.”

• In “Rollercoaster: The Musical!” Linda does call her “crazy” but Candace is getting in the way of her going grocery shopping for the who knows what time and she does suggest that Candace yell at the cheese in the grocery store until she feels better (which is funny since Candace is allergic to dairy and shows that Linda does care)

Candace: *Pulls Linda to where the poster used to be* “Here, look, look, look, look, look, see? I told you I'm not crazy! I told you!”

Linda: “And you’re not crazy because...?”

*Candace screams when she opens her eyes to see the poster’s gone*

Linda: “I see your point, Candace. No crazy person would scream at a post like that. I’ll be in the dairy section if you want to come yell at some cheese. *goes off-screen then comes back* Would you like that, honey? Would you like to yell at some cheese?”

Candace: “A little.” *takes Linda’s offered hand*

Linda: “Well, c’mon, then.”

• In “What A Croc!” Linda is shown trusting Candace to be in charge while she’s not home more than she trusts her husband after seeing him watching “Horse in a Bookcase” with the boys

Linda: “Alright, Candace, I’m headed out to the zoo to do my volunteer work.”

Candace: “Which means I’m in charge.”

Linda: “Well, not really, ‘cause Dad’s here. Right, honey?”

*Cuts to Lawrence, Phineas, and Ferb in the living room watching Horse in a Bookcase*

Lawrence: “That’s right, dear.”

Linda: *Looks at Candace* “You’re in charge.”

Candace: *Smiles and opens the door for Linda* “Bye, Mom! Have fun at the zoo!”

• In “Backyard Aquarium” it’s shown that Linda’s favorite author wrote the book series “You & Your High-Strung Teen” which implies that Linda reads a lot of books to try to understand her daughter (with varying degrees of success)

Linda: “I’ve gotta tell you, I read your first book and I love it.”

Bridgette Oshinomi: “Do you have a high-strung teen at home?”

Linda: “Uh, you could say that. *her phone beeps* Oh, this must be her.”

Bridgette Oshinomi: “She sent you a picture? Lemme see.”

Linda: “Well...okay.”

Bridgette Oshinomi: “How bad can it be? After all, I've been through with my own- *sees picture of Candace’s up close face while screaming* Oh. I think that maybe you need the rest of the set. *gives her two books* Uh, and why don't you take a whack at that first book again?”

Funny enough, this Bridgette Oshinomi character is also a news reporter who reported about Phineas and Ferb’s Perry the Inaction Figure in “Toy to the World”

• In “Phineas and Ferb Interrupted” Linda wants to spend the whole day with Candace:

Linda: “Hey hon, I was just reading this article about mothers and daughters, and really listening to your teen. And I realized I’ve hardly seen you all summer, so for the whole day today, it’s you and me. Whatever you want to do, I’m all yours. Anything at all.”

Although they end up sitting there watching the boys do nothing exciting after they got hit by Doof’s Dull-and-Boring Inator:

Candace: “Phineas, come on! What is wrong with you guys?”

Linda: “Candace?”

Candace: “Mom...”

Linda: “How about if I go get some lunch and bring it back for us?”

Candace: “No, no, no, stay, stay! I'm really enjoying this quality time with you.” *kisses her on the cheek*

Linda: “Me too, sweetie!”

• In “Hip Hip Parade” Linda and Candace have a girl’s day out but Linda understandably wants Candace not to try to bust or obsess over her brothers:

Linda: “Candace, you have to promise me that you won’t obsess about Phineas and Ferb.”

Candace: “Yeah, sure Mom, I promise.”

Linda: “Don’t just promise this time. Raise your right hand. Do you, Candace Gertrude Flynn, solemnly swear not to obsess about your brothers, or you’ll suffer the Pharaoh’s Curse?”

Candace: “The Pharaoh’s Curse?”

Linda: “Yes or no?”

Candace: “Okay, yes.”

Linda: “Okay, now we can have fun.”

And Linda says how she enjoys spending time with Candace!

Linda: “See Candace? Isn’t this nice to just get away and enjoy a day together?”

Candace: “You’re right Mom, this is the best. I’m not even going to think about– Mm, you know. I’m not even going to say their names.”

Linda: “That’s the spirit.”

But Candace is Candace and she can’t resist her busting instincts:

Linda: “Candace, I’m having a great time with you today. See how relaxing it is when you’re not obsessing about your brothers?”

Candace: “I can’t take it anymore! Mom, I really tried my best to give you a day, but it’s… the boys. The boys! They’re in the parade! With giant floats! So come on, you gotta bust them.”

• The whole “Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Max Modem!” episode where Candace learns her Mom was Lindana:

Candace: “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom! You never told me you were a pop star!”

Linda: “Oh yeah! Well, that was long before you were born. It was fun, but I was happy to give it up to raise a family.”

Then Candace comes with Linda to a revival concert (-> Here’s a video of that on YouTube <-) and she wants her daughter to sing with her onstage:

Linda: “I wouldn’t be here without you, honey. You backed me up all the way. So it’s only right that you should back me up onstage.”

Candace: “Me? Sing?”

Linda: “Just relax. You'll do fine.” *Candace grins and gives her a thumbs up*

Candace then had the time of her life! She and Linda even dance together during “Alien Heart”

(There are more but I’ll end this post here)