#tech gets a gf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solanastark · 1 month ago

Text

eyes on me

summary: an undercover mission with bucky barnes at a high profile auction means stolen tech, fistfights, and falling in love all over again.

pairing: bucky x reader

tags/warnings: avenger!gf, chaotic relationship, lots of banter and flirting, use of firearms and weapons, steve third wheeling, down bad bucky barnes

word count: 5.7k

A/N: just saw mission impossible in theaters and came up with this idea. ive always wanted to write about a scenario like this and having both characters act like undercover spies just scratched something in my brain. and also bucky in a suit, speaking a different language is just chef's kiss. i hope you guys enjoyy <3

It was a routine mission—at least, that’s what they called it. Steve was already in the target area, scoping out the market. Bucky sat strapped into the corner seat of the Quinjet, the low hum of the engines buzzing in his ears, the sharp scent of metal and oil filling the space.

The objective of the mission is to intercept a black-market exchange happening in Istanbul, Turkey. According to Steve, Hydra remnants are involved. During the briefing, y/n was able to hack surveillance and navigate a high stakes weapon auction. Undoubtedly as an intel specialist, with her knack for tech systems, Steve wanted her on the job.

Steve knew the risk of taking Bucky with them but he is the only one who knows HYDRA the most. With his combat prowess, he’s the backup they’ll want for a mission like this. Steve knows they work well together, even if Bucky’s still in denial about how much he enjoys it.

He kept his head down, focused on the briefing in his hands.

Or at least, he tried to.

But she was sitting just across from him.

She had her hair in a low bun, a few stray strands framing her face. A rare sight for Bucky, seeing her all sophisticated and feminine. She always sported a good messy ponytail during missions and makeup just tends to get replaced by grease or blood in her line of work.

Her sleek backless black dress clinged on to her body like it was liquid gold and the makeup Natasha taught her accentuated her eyes.The dress has a high slit for easy movement, revealing holsters under the skirt loaded with compact pistols and a knife strapped to her thigh for good measure.

And when she glanced up at him—just a quick, fleeting look.

She smiled.

That smile? It hit him like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t perfect or practiced.

It was easy, like breathing.

“Barnes,” she said softly, noticing his stare. There was no edge to her voice, just quiet amusement, like she was used to catching him off guard.

Bucky cleared his throat, gaze flicking away for a second, then back to her. “Yeah?” He straightened his tailored black suit.

She tilted her head, a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You okay over there? You’ve been staring at me like you’ve never seen a human smile before.”

He blinked, caught off guard by how right she was. “Maybe I haven’t,” he admitted, voice low and almost too honest.

Her smile softened, something tender flickering in her eyes. “Well... you’re staring. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Bucky hesitated, then huffed a quiet, breathless laugh. His voice came out rough, quiet—like he hadn’t spoken in a while and wasn’t sure if he should. “Just... thinking you make it hard to focus sometimes.”

That surprised her, just for a second. Then she smiled wider, her cheeks warming, and she leaned forward just a little, as if the space between them wasn’t enough. “Hey,” she murmured, leaning in close.

His breath caught as her fingers brushed his temple, gently tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. The touch was featherlight, but it burned all the same.

Bucky blinked, momentarily frozen. Her scent hit him, warm and soft, and for a second, all he could think about was her. The world seemed to narrow, the sounds of the jet fading, leaving only the warmth of her fingers on his skin.

His eyes flickered down to her lips, parted slightly as she concentrated and then it hit him.

She wasn’t just tucking his hair back.

With a small, focused frown, she adjusted the earpiece in his ear, the cool plastic pressing into place.

“There,” she whispered, voice low and professional but her lips were so close to his that it felt anything but. “Can you hear me okay?”

Bucky exhaled, blinking like he’d been underwater too long.

“Yeah,” he rasped, throat suddenly dry. “Loud and clear.”

She smiled, that soft little curve of her lips that hit him like a punch to the chest every time.

A whisper in the intercom disrupted his thoughts. “I’ll take it as a compliment by the way.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You should.”

Casting the city in a warm, golden glow. Bucky exhaled sharply as he unstrapped himself, every muscle in his body tight, coiled, ready for a fight. Hydra. Again. Just the name made his blood run colder, his pulse a steady drumbeat in his ears.

Steve met them on the tarmac, casual but sharp-eyed, dressed in neutral clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. He approached with a clipped nod, glancing between Bucky and the woman standing beside him, who was smoothing her sleek, black dress like she’d been born to play this part.

“Alright,” Steve said lowly, handing her a small comm and a folded dossier. “You both know the drill—high-profile buyers, flashy but not too flashy. The auction’s in two hours, hidden in a club under the Grand Bazaar. Victor Renshaw’s our guy. He’s well-known in the black market selling weapons tech disguised as antiques, so eyes sharp.”

He turned to Bucky, his gaze tightening. “You okay with this?”

Bucky nodded stiffly, jaw clenched. “Fine.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push. He turned back to her. “Y/N, you’ll do most of the talking. We’ve got eyes on you from outside, but once you’re in... you’re on your own.”

She took a steady breath, nodding. “We’ve got this.” Her voice was calm, sure, a soft contrast to the storm raging just under Bucky’s skin.

Steve gave her a firm nod, then squeezed Bucky’s shoulder in silent support before disappearing back into the shadows.

Bucky stood there, staring out at the city lights, fists clenched at his sides. His chest felt tight, breath coming too shallow, too fast. He could feel the memories clawing at the edges of his mind—cold metal tables, the sharp smell of antiseptic, voices barking orders in Russian. The old ghosts, rising again.

She watched him carefully, her expression softening.

Without a word, she reached out and laid her hand lightly on his forearm, barely a touch, really, but it grounded him like a bolt of electricity straight through his chest.

Bucky looked down at her hand, at the way her fingers curved over the scars on his arm without hesitation, without fear.

When he met her gaze, she smiled gently, a quiet, steady warmth in her eyes that spoke more than words ever could.

“We’re here together, remember?” she whispered, low and sure, like she was anchoring him to the present. Bucky swallowed hard, his shoulders dropping just a fraction, the tension bleeding out of him bit by bit.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice rough but steadier. “Together.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath, and when she turned toward the city, ready to walk into the lion’s den, he followed—because for once, he wasn’t just the soldier. He was hers.

The club under the Grand Bazaar pulsed with low, thrumming bass, shadows and colored lights casting long, shifting patterns across the walls. It smelled like expensive cologne, smoke, and something darker, something sharp, like adrenaline laced into the air itself. Men and women in sleek, tailored suits and glittering gowns moved through the space with practiced ease, champagne flutes in hand, laughter curling like smoke between red lips and sharp grins.

They were in it now.

Bucky stood tall beside her, looking every bit the brooding, dangerous man with a sharp suit that strained across his shoulders. His hair was slicked back, his expression a perfect mask of stoic indifference. But his eyes? They never stopped scanning, tracking every movement, every face. Hydra. They were here—he could feel it.

She, on the other hand, slipped into character with terrifying ease.

Her dress shimmered under the lights, she smiled at him once—small, sharp, and utterly confident—before turning her gaze to the crowd, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm as they walked in.

Bucky was trying—trying—to focus on the mission, but his gaze kept pulling back to her.

She was... something else. The way she moved, the way she smiled, the effortless way she slipped between languages as she charmed information from men who didn’t even realize they were giving it away. Her laugh, a soft, polished thing, practiced for the crowd sent a cold shiver down his spine. But it wasn’t fake. Not really. There was a warmth to it, something real she couldn’t quite hide.

And when she leaned in closer to a smirking buyer, Bucky’s jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack.

She was magnetic. Every eye in the room was drawn to her, and Bucky couldn’t blame them. The men wanted her. The women envied her. And Bucky? He... he just wanted to keep her safe. To get her out of here. To hold her close and tell her she didn’t have to do any of this.

But she was so damn good at it.

Every time she spoke, it was like the world shifted around her. She was fluent in four different languages tonight—French, Turkish, Russian, Arabic—slipping between them like water. When she leaned in close to the auctioneer, murmuring something in Turkish with a sly, conspiratorial smile, Bucky could practically see the man melting under her gaze.

But when her eyes darted back to him just for a second, just a flicker and her smile softened, just for him... Bucky knew. She might have been wearing a mask tonight, but underneath it, she was his.

And that was the only thing keeping him from punching a hole through the nearest wall.

He watched the way she shifted her weight, the way her fingers trailed over the stem of her champagne glass, the way she leaned in, feigning interest while subtly slipping a listening device under the tablecloth.

The auctioneer was a tall, sharp-jawed man with graying temples and cold eyes that seemed to cut through the noise and glitter of the room. His suit was crisp, but the way his gaze lingered too long, the subtle twitch in his fingers as they tapped the catalog, told her he wasn’t just here for business. He was watching—calculating.

She leaned in slightly, her voice low and smooth, her Turkish fluent and almost musical. “Bu parça ne kadar nadir? Ailem yıllardır böyle bir şey arıyor. Biliyorsunuz, babam koleksiyonları için ölebilir.” (How rare is this piece? My family’s been looking for something like this for years. You know, my father would die for a piece like this.)

The auctioneer’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something darker passing over his face. His gaze sharpened, flicking from her face to her dress, her jewelry, and back to her eyes lingering a beat too long. His posture shifted, subtly more closed off, and in that moment, she knew: He doesn’t believe me.

His next words were slow, deliberate. Still in Turkish, but now with a sharper edge.

“Babanız mı? Hangi işte çalışıyordu, dediniz?” (Your father? What did you say he did again?)

Her heart skipped. She covered it with a soft smile, tilting her head, but her fingers tensed slightly against the stem of her glass. “Oh, he’s in textiles,” she said smoothly, still in Turkish, her voice warm but her brain racing.

But the auctioneer didn’t smile. His eyes darkened, suspicious.

Before she could pivot, before she could steer the conversation back to safer waters, a shadow moved beside her. A presence, solid and grounding.

Bucky.

He stepped in, his body language effortless but imposing, a casual hand resting at the small of her back, his other hand reaching out to the auctioneer’s shoulder like they were old friends.

“Afedersiniz,” Bucky cut in, his Turkish thick with an accent but passable. (Excuse me.) His tone was low, almost lazy, but there was steel underneath. “Kusura bakmayın, hanımefendi için biraz fazla soruyorsunuz.” (You’re asking the lady a few too many questions, don’t you think?)

The auctioneer stiffened, eyes darting between Bucky’s size, the gleam of metal at his wrist, the subtle threat in his posture.

“I think we’re done here,” Bucky added in English, voice quiet but firm. He didn’t glare—not quite—but his stare was steady, unblinking, until the man backed off with a forced, brittle smile.

As the auctioneer walked away, still glancing over his shoulder, Bucky’s hand lingered just a second longer at her back, his voice a low murmur near her ear.

“You okay?”

Her heart was racing, but she exhaled softly, letting the tension bleed out through her fingertips where they brushed his sleeve.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she whispered, her voice barely audible under the noise.

“Hey.” He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her ear, his words for her alone.

“You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

The plan was in motion.

They’d placed the tiny trackers hidden in cufflinks, earrings, even the subtle engraving on a brooch on key pieces set to be smuggled out after the auction. Each one a breadcrumb leading straight to the Hydra network they were here to dismantle.

But there was a problem: Victor Renshaw wasn’t in the auction room.

She caught Bucky’s eye across the room, a subtle flick of her hand brushing her earring, their silent signal. He nodded, staying in position by the bar, while she gracefully excused herself and slipped down the hall.

Inside the dim, marble-lined bathroom, she tapped her comm and whispered, voice low and urgent, “Steve, I’m in. Patching into the surveillance feed now.” Her fingers flew over the tablet she’d smuggled in under the cover of her clutch, eyes scanning the grainy footage.

“Got it. Third floor, west wing. Looks like he’s holed up in a private suite—guard detail’s heavy.” She relayed the information quickly, heart pounding in her chest.

Her hands moved fast, pulling out the slim tablet from her clutch and connecting it to a hidden jack in the wall. Lines of code spilled across the screen in a blur.

She muttered to herself, tapping through surveillance feeds and blueprints, eyes narrowing as she scanned the auction inventory. Then she paused, brows furrowing when a schematic flashed on the screen.

“What the hell…?” she whispered.

A few of the weapons hidden beneath the antique cases… the wiring diagrams, the encryption patterns… They matched Stark tech. Not just inspired by—it was Stark tech. Old designs, repurposed and twisted into something lethal.

Her heart hammered, adrenaline spiking, but before she could dig deeper—

Bucky shifted his weight, eyes sweeping the room like a wolf in a ballroom. His nerves buzzed. He hated this part. The waiting. The pretending. The mask.

That’s when she approached.

Tall, statuesque, wearing a red dress that shimmered like a serpent’s scales. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto Bucky with a knowing smirk. Her voice was low, her accent thick as she purred in Russian-accented English, “You look tense, handsome. Enjoying the show?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His gut twisted. Hydra. He knew it before she even reached for his wrist.

She moved fast. Too fast. Her hand darting for the button on his cufflink, the tracker. Bucky grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply, but she retaliated, slashing at him with a blade hidden in her ring.

The room blurred. The music swelled. They twisted through the crowd in a silent fight, Bucky ducking low to avoid a swing, grabbing a champagne bottle off a table to block the next strike. Glass shattered—someone screamed, but the music kept going, the auctioneer’s voice droning over it all like nothing had happened.

Bucky caught her arm, yanked her close. She sneered, breath hot against his cheek.

“You’re too late, Soldier. Hydra always wins.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened. His grip tightened. He twisted, flipping her over his shoulder, sending her crashing to the floor with a sharp thud. The breath whooshed out of her lungs.

Bucky leaned down, voice a quiet rasp against the chaos. His words were a dagger wrapped in velvet. “Sorry, but my wife’s waiting for me.”

With a final shove, he knocked her out cold.

“Doll, you there?” Bucky’s voice crackled through her earpiece, low and tight with tension. “Hydra’s moving in. Four, maybe five coming my way. We gotta move. Now.”

Her breath caught. She turned off all connections for the surveillance cameras for less visibility. She yanked the tablet’s cord free, stuffed it back in her bag, and flipped the bathroom lock.

“Copy that, I’m on my way.”

She smoothed her hair in the mirror, schooling her features into something calm, unbothered before slipping back into the auction room like she hadn’t just uncovered something that could change everything.

With a deep breath, her heels clicked softly against the marble floor. She paused for half a second to adjust the clasp on her necklace, another subtle signal to Bucky.

He was already watching.

Bucky leaned casually against the bar, straightening his cufflinks like nothing had happened. A single lock of hair fell across his forehead, but there was a sharp glint in his eye when he caught her gaze, an unspoken I handled it.

She returned the look with a small, knowing smile, slipping seamlessly into character as she rejoined him. Their cover was intact. No one would suspect a thing.

“Did you really just call me your wife?” she teased, eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and challenge. Bucky blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before he schooled his expression into something casual. “What? I was just in character.”

Her smirk deepened, leaning in close as she whispered in his ear, “Uh huh. Sure, Barnes.”

Steve’s voice crackled in their earpieces, quiet and clipped. “Alright, you two. Third floor, west wing. That’s where they’re holding Renshaw. Be careful, there’s heavy security, and they’re jumpy.”

“Copy,” Bucky whispered, shifting beside her, his posture tense, his breath shallow. She could feel the storm brewing inside him. Y/N’s eyes flicking around the room, noting the exits, the guards, the cameras. Her hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining beneath the table, a subtle anchor. She didn’t have to say anything. He felt the warmth of her touch, steady and grounding.

Bucky exhaled slowly, nodding once. His voice, barely a whisper:

“Let’s finish this.”

They moved, smooth and practiced. She did the talking, posing as the wealthy buyer, all charm and soft smiles, her Turkish flawless as she asked a guard about a private viewing upstairs. Bucky stayed close, the quiet, watchful protector, his hand always ready, always near his concealed weapon.

They were almost there. They were just a few steps away from the stairs when another guard blocked their path, suspicious.

Her voice didn’t waver. “Is there a problem?” she asked, tilting her head with a polite smile. The guard frowned, eyeing Bucky’s rigid posture, something clearly off. His hand moved toward his earpiece.

Bucky’s eyes darkened, a subtle shift and she could tell: it was about to escalate.

She squeezed Bucky’s hand, quick and firm, her voice soft and laced with quiet command. “Stay with me. Eyes on me.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, but he locked his gaze onto her, letting her lead.

She turned back to the guard, her smile unwavering, her voice smooth as silk.

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”

She said with a tilt of her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. A subtle shift in her stance, a crackle of danger in her voice that wasn’t there before.

The guard barely had time to blink.

With a fluid motion, she stepped in too fast, too sharp. A sharp elbow to the gut, a twist of the wrist that snapped the comms out of his ear, a precise kick that sent him crashing into a display of ancient vases. He slumped, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She turned on her heel like it was nothing, smoothing her dress as if she hadn’t just dropped a trained Hydra agent like a rag doll. She met Bucky’s gaze, that familiar spark dancing in her eyes, and arched a brow.

“You coming, honey?”

They made their way up the grand staircase, the tension thick in the air like static before a storm. Through the ornate doors at the end of the hall was Victor Renshaw’s private suite, where the real deal was going down.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. She felt the weight of his gaze and reached over, brushing her fingers lightly over the back of his hand just for a second but it was enough. He relaxed, his breathing slowing, shoulders loosening as the mission-mode intensity found its anchor in her presence.

Steve’s voice crackled softly through the comms. “Alright, team, eyes up. Victor Renshaw is in the suite, flanked by four guards. You two keep him occupied. I'll take the flank.”

“Got it,” she whispered, her fingers dancing over the small device in her clutch, already queuing up her backdoor into the club’s security system.

The doors opened with a soft creak, and they stepped into a den of excess. Velvet couches, low lights, the air heavy with smoke and tension. Renshaw—an older man with slicked-back hair and a smug smile that made Bucky’s blood boil, looked up with mild disinterest.

“Ah, the lovely couple,” he purred, gesturing lazily. “Here for the auction, or for... something else?” She smiled, sweet and sharp, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Just browsing,” she replied in perfect Turkish, every syllable smooth and effortless.

But her fingers were already at work, slipping her phone from her clutch, tapping into the club’s power grid, readying to shut the whole operation down.

Renshaw leaned forward, clearly suspicious. His gaze flicked to Bucky, who met it with a cold stare that could have frozen fire. The tension snapped like a wire.

The boss flicked his hand. The guards moved in.

“Now!” Steve barked over the comms.

She jammed the command into her phone—power down initiated.

The lights snapped off, the room plunging into darkness. Shouts echoed, and before anyone could recover, she was moving. Slipping behind a pillar, fingers dancing on her tablet.

“Got eyes on the vehicle systems,” she muttered. Her code flickered across the screen, locking car doors, killing ignitions, blocking any chance of escape.

Bucky and Steve burst into action. Bucky launched into the guards like a human wrecking ball, metal fist swinging with brutal precision, while Steve moved with his shield, a blur of motion.

One of the guards lunged for her, but she didn’t miss a beat. With a sharp pivot, she grabbed a chair and slammed it into his midsection, sending him sprawling. Then she ducked low, delivering a swift kick that knocked the breath out of another.

“On your left!” Steve called.

“Thanks!” she replied, sweeping a leg out and catching another attacker by the ankles. They went down hard, and she moved to cover Bucky’s flank, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Bucky glanced at her in the chaos, saw the spark in her eyes—the fury, the focus, the fire. A grin broke across his face, wild and unrestrained. “You’re incredible,” he muttered, breathless as he took down another.

She smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. “Flatter me later, Barnes. We’ve got a boss to catch.”

“Renshaw is making a break for it!” Steve’s voice rang out.

“I’m on it,” she said, already back on her device, locking down the exits and cutting the building’s external power grid, ensuring there was nowhere left to run.

Bucky and Steve surged forward, chasing down Renshaw, while she covered them, hands a blur on the keys and when one of the last guards lunged at her from the side, she swung her heel into his gut, sending him sprawling, and went right back to her work like nothing had happened.

Together, they were unstoppable.

Amid the chaos, one of the Hydra agents lunged toward her, grabbing the delicate hem of her dress just as she spun away from another attacker. The fabric caught, threatening to pull her off balance.

Before she could react, Bucky’s metal arm shot out, gripping the agent’s wrist with a sharp twist. With a quick, powerful tug, he tore the fabric free.

She glanced down at the torn edge of her dress, raising a perfectly arched brow. “Hey,” she said, voice equal parts amused and annoyed, “do you have any idea how much this cost?”

Bucky smirked, eyes flashing with a rare lightness. “Less than your life I’m guessing.”

Renshaw tore through the back corridors, cursing in Turkish under his breath. His guards had been taken out one by one, and now the only thing standing between him and capture was a steel door at the end of the hall. He bolted, only to find the door locked.

From behind him, footsteps thundered closer. Renshaw whirled, pulling a gun from inside his jacket, desperation flashing in his eyes.

She rounded the corner first, breath ragged, tablet still in hand. The boss aimed at her chest.

“No!” Bucky’s voice roared, raw and explosive.

Before he could squeeze the trigger, Bucky slammed into him like a freight train, his metal arm catching the man’s wrist and crushing the weapon beneath his grip. The gun crumpled like paper, the sound sharp and final.

Renshaw tried to fight back, clawing, swinging wildly. But Bucky’s metal fist caught him square in the jaw, sending him crashing into the wall with a thud. He slumped, unconscious, at Bucky’s feet.

She stood frozen for a heartbeat, chest heaving, staring at the scene. Bucky, towering over the boss like a dark, furious storm, his metal arm gleaming in the dim light, that protective fire in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, voice hoarse, eyes scanning her like she might break right in front of him.

“Yeah,” she breathed, still catching her breath. “I’m okay.”

But then—click.

Another guard stepped out of the shadows, raising a gun at her back. Bucky didn’t hesitate.

“Down!”

She hit the floor, just as Bucky lunged, his metal arm snapping up like a shield, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly off the vibranium with a sharp ping.

Bucky tackled the guard, disarming him in one swift, brutal motion, and then turned, hauling her up by the hand.

“You good?” he asked again, voice softer this time, but no less intense.

She nodded, her heart hammering, eyes wide.

His jaw flexed, and for a moment, they just stood there, hands clasped, breathing hard, the adrenaline still thick in their veins.

The club was chaotic—Hydra guards scrambled, civilians screaming and ducking under tables as the firefight broke out.

Bucky pressed his back to a column, shielding her as bullets pinged off the walls.

Y/N opened one of the backdoors, snapping into action. Her voice cut through the panic, sharp, commanding, urgent. “Get out of here! Move!”

She waved a hand toward the exit, covering them with her pistol. A few stragglers hesitated, wide-eyed, but the sheer force in her voice sent them running. “Go, now!” she barked, firing off a precise shot at a guard trying to flank them. He dropped like a stone.

Bucky felt a flicker of awe—not just at her skill, but at the way she owned the chaos, controlled it, even as the world exploded around them.

Then—movement behind him.

“Bucky, left!” she shouted.

He pivoted, blocking the incoming blow with his metal arm, the impact clanging like a bell.

She moved like lightning—knife drawn, spinning under Bucky’s guard as she plunged the blade into a guard’s thigh, dropping him with brutal efficiency. He barely had time to react before she was back at his side, reloading her pistol with a sharp, practiced click.

“You okay?” she panted, eyes scanning the room.

“Yeah,” Bucky grunted, “you?”

“Fine. Just a scratch.” She wiped a smear of blood from her cheek and cocked her head towards Renshaw retreating up the stairs.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “He’s mine.”

“Not without me, he’s not,” she shot back, fierce and determined.

Together, they moved like a unit.

As Bucky advanced toward him, she hung back just long enough to finish the job with her tech. A Hydra SUV outside roared to life, headlights cutting through the smoke—only to grind to a halt as she hacked into the vehicle system, killing the engine remotely.

“Not going anywhere,” she muttered, smirking as she stuffed the tablet away and slipped her knife back into its sheath.

Together, they surged forward. Her, knife gleaming and pistol barking in sharp bursts; him, fists flying, metal arm smashing through weapons and guards alike.

When they finally cornered Renshaw, he was breathing hard, panic all over his face.

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said coolly, her gun raised.

The boss smirked, cocky, like maybe he still had the upper hand. “Misunderstanding?” he repeated, stepping closer.

But before he could speak again, she kicked him square in the chest hard. He hit the floor with a grunt, and she turned to Bucky with a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

And when Steve finally burst in from the side entrance, he took in the scene. Bodies down, tech hacked, boss subdued and just shook his head.

“Nice work, lovebirds,” he muttered, radioing the extraction team.

The fight was over, but the tension lingered.

The three of them moved quickly through the wreckage, stepping over unconscious guards and shattered glass. Her pulse was still racing, but her focus was sharp—get out clean, get back to the quinjet.

Bucky, though... he wasn’t moving like the fight was over. His breath was ragged, shoulders tense, eyes darting around like he was still in it. His hands, one flesh, one metal, were flexing at his sides, twitching like they were waiting for another strike.

She noticed it immediately. “Bucky?” she called gently, her voice soft but steady as she slipped up beside him.

He didn’t answer at first, too locked in. “Bucky,” she repeated, lightly touching his wrist. “Hey. It’s over.”

His head snapped to her like a cornered animal, and for a second, it wasn’t Bucky’s warm gaze. It was him, the Winter Soldier.

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t back down. Steve caught the moment too. “Buck,” Steve said carefully, moving closer, hands raised in a quiet show of support. “You good?”

Bucky’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. His jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” he bit out, but it sounded anything but fine.

His eyes dropped to her hand on his wrist, and something shifted—like the world realigned in an instant. His features softened, just barely, but she could see it: the moment he realized he was safe. That they were safe.

“You sure?” she asked, gentler now. “Because if you need a second—”

“I’m sure,” he said gruffly, voice rough like sandpaper. He exhaled hard, shaking out his hands. Still, she watched him closely, worried knitting her brow.

“I just want these damn heels off,” she finally muttered, breaking the tension with a breathless, almost sheepish laugh. That startled a soft huff from him, almost a laugh if she dared to call it that.

She reached down, wincing as she tugged one shoe off, then the other, standing barefoot on the cracked marble floor. Bucky’s gaze swept over her quickly, his hand brushing her side in an instinctive check for injuries.

“You’re not hurt?” he asked quietly, voice still tight. “No,” she promised, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath. “I’m okay, Bucky. We’re okay.”

For a moment, they just stood there. Her bare feet against the cold floor, him still vibrating with adrenaline.

Steve watched them quietly, then spoke up. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll finish debriefing on the jet.” Bucky nodded once, jaw still tight, but his hand stayed firmly on her back as they moved toward the exit.

The hum of the quinjet filled the cabin, but the air was still charged from the mission.

Steve sat across from them, arms crossed but a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Bucky sat beside her, his metal arm resting on the back of the seat, his other hand tapping lightly against his knee. She leaned forward, hair slightly mussed, bare feet tucked beneath her, still clutching a tablet she’d pulled from the Hydra base.

“I’m telling you, they’re using modified Stark tech—old prototypes, maybe from the archives,” she said, flipping through the schematics she’d hacked. “Someone’s been reverse-engineering the designs, adding… stuff that shouldn’t exist anymore.” Her voice was steady, but Bucky could feel the fire simmering just beneath the surface.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked over the data. “Shield’s already sweeping through the site. They’ll clean it up, confiscate the weapons, and track down whoever’s left behind.” He sounded confident, like a leader who’d seen the worst and knew how to handle it.

But she still looked tense, biting her lip as her fingers hovered over the tablet’s screen. Bucky nudged her lightly with his knee. “Hey,” he said quietly, and when she glanced up, he gave her that small, soft look he didn’t give to many. “You did good. We got it done.”

She relaxed just a little, leaning back into the seat with a small sigh. That’s when Steve grinned, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Told you guys you work well together,” he teased, a glint of amusement in his voice.

She groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. She muttered something sharp in Turkish under her breath. Quiet, fast, and laced with a lot of spice.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a grin as he glanced at Steve. “She just told you to fuck off,” Bucky translated smoothly.

“Oh, I know,” Steve shot back with a mock glare, arms still crossed but a grin tugging at his mouth.

Bucky smirked, and they spoke in near-perfect unison—his voice gravelly, hers biting:

“Shut the hell up, Steve.”

That cracked the tension, the cabin filling with quiet, relieved laughter. As the quinjet soared through the clouds, Bucky caught her gaze, his fingers brushing hers. They didn’t say much after that, words weren’t necessary.

For now, they had each other. And that was enough.

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kimarii-00 · 1 year ago

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Honey would please write something like when Armando left his gf she is a hacker and a weapon specialist without saying anything turned out that's not the only person he left behind. ( Tiny a baby girl who like to hold a wooden spoon ) They meet again when they going to the ammo squad in bad boys for . Her Kelly are besties . Very very angst.

(I accidentally deleted the ask, but I wrote it down before I did so above is the prompt for this, asked by anonymous)

Regrets and Punishments

❥Summary: Armando knows he made a mistake. He knew when he decided that his mother was more important than his girlfriend. But he planned to return to her, he did. He never could’ve anticipated being gone for as long as he was. Seeing her face again was like getting shot: You get that adrenaline rush, yet the pain ends up biting you in the ass later on. Especially when he discovers what, or dare I say, who he also left behind all that time ago.

❥Warnings: Slow burn, kidnapping, language

❥Word Count: 2.7k

❥Part 1/2

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AN: I’m ngl I’m not sure if you meant that you wanted them to have a kid or not, but I wrote it just in case, let me know if that's not what you wanted and I’ll rewrite it! (I also gave the kid a name)

I think I’m going to make this a two parter because I kinda took this prompt and ran with it lol

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He never thought he’d see you again. As much as he didn’t want to, he accepted the fact that he’d fucked up your relationship when he decided to leave you in favor of helping his mothers’ dirty work. He didn’t even give you so much as a call after he’d left to let you know that he was even alive. He only hoped that you were doing fine on your own.

Nonchalantly, Armando walked through the door to the house of the people Mike and Marcus knew, not giving a damn about the warning to stay outside like Mike had told him to. No wonder a gun was drawn and pointed at him as soon as he stepped foot in the home.

“Woah, woah! Kelly-” Mike began his attempt to mediate the situation, “I asked you to wait outside for a second… Alright, Kelly, he’s with us.” Standing in between the gun and his son.

“He can’t be here.” Kelly retorted, keeping her gaze on the wanted criminal standing before her.

“This is my son, Armando.”

“I know who he is and that’s why he can’t be here,” The gun never faltered as she spoke with a solid, demanding voice, “I trust you with my life, but I sure as shit don’t trust him.”

“I trust him,” Mike confirmed.

“Then take him to your house.”

Dorn cleared his throat, trying to release some of the tension that had built in the room. Armando said nothing as Dorn came over to try to calm his girlfriend, and Mike took his son to the opposite side of the room.

Marcus sat down on the couch in the middle of the room and snatched up a bag of chips, “This is some dysfunctional shit.” He said, looking back and forth between the two duos.

They came back together after a minute or two. “She’s fine,” Dorn said.

“She don’t look fine…” Marcus expressed, taking in the obvious irritation and discomfort on her face.

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are.” Everyone turned in the direction of Armando, where he only opened the fridge to grab a drink.

“It’s the language barrier,” Marcus explained to Dorn.

“It was English!”

“It was definitely English.”

“I have to call someone. I’ll be back,” Kelly said, picking up her phone and already beginning to dial, “If I’m going to do this I’m gonna need another girl here. She’ll be able to help with the tech stuff too.”

“Is it–” Dorn began, but cut himself off when Kelly nodded, “Tell her to leave Demi at home, we don’t know what kind of shit we’re getting into.”

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When you got the call from Kelly, you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. She told you she needed you to come over, but when you asked her why, she only said something about “emotional support”. You’d tried to press her for more details but she only mentioned having some people over and needing your tech skills. After a while, you just decided you’d go, but not before you handled your own business.

“Demi, come here please!” You called out while folding another shirt, making a nice crease and adding it to your pile of similar neatly folded shirts.

The aggressive pitter-patter of small feet hitting your hardwood floors alerted you that the person you’d called for was on their way.

“Mama!” You felt the bed on which you were folding clothes dip a bit as a weight threw itself into the soft mattress. You smile when you set your eyes on the girl who is smiling to herself contently—your daughter.

“Mimi, mama has to leave soon,” You said as you picked her up and set her on your hip so you could continue to fold while holding your toddler, “Tiara should be here soon to look after you, okay?” You say, referring to your babysitter that you should probably be paying more considering how many times you’ve called her in the past week or so.

“Mama leaving… again?” Your heart dropped when you watched the smile fade from your daughter's face when she realized you were going to be gone and she was going to be left with the babysitter for what felt like the hundredth time. You always felt bad when things like this came up but… you couldn’t just blow Kelly off. Not after all she’s done for you.

“Yes… Mama’s leaving, I’m sorry baby but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?” You tried to cheer her up by giving her stomach a few tickles but your daughter was as stubborn as they come, her pout seemingly permanently stuck to her face.

The doorbell stole your attention and you gently set your daughter down. She followed you to the front door, and when you opened it her permanent pout was replaced with nothing but… confusion. You joined her in sporting this facial expression when you both looked at the stranger at your doorstep.

“Can I.. help you?” You ask the woman. She had a soft smile on her face, but for some reason, it didn’t seem welcoming.

“I’m your babysitter.” The woman replied.

“Um… I’m sorry there must be some mistake. My usual babysitter’s name is Tiara, I called her a while ago-”

“Tiara asked me to come here in her stead, she isn’t feeling too well, unfortunately. I’m a coworker of hers.” The woman explained, but you weren’t convinced. Tiara hadn’t mentioned any of this to you when you called her-

Just then, as you were about to make up your mind about whether or not you wanted to slam the door on the lady, you received a message from… Tiara.

3:34 Tiara (Babysitter): Hey, so sorry for the inconvenience but I’m not feeling good today, I sent over my coworker because I know you needed a sitter ASAP! Her name is Sara.

“What was your name again?” You asked, slowly taking your eyes off of your phone and to the lady, still wearing that smile on her face.

“Sara.”

You look her up and down once more before stepping to the side to let the woman inside. Your daughter hid behind and clung to your leg, only peeking out when she was sure the strange woman was not looking at her.

“Um… This is Demi,” You gesture to the girl who has glued herself to your right leg. You try to get her to say hello but she refuses. Sara stoops down to your daughter's level and tries to wave at her but Demi only scooches further out of sight. “The fridge is fully stocked, there are only a few weres, really: Don’t invite anyone else over, no drinking, oh and her bedtime is 8:30.”

“Please do not worry, I’m sure me and Demi will have a great time together.” Sara expresses, that damn smile still plastered on her face. There’s something about this lady that you just don’t like, but if Tiara sent her then it’s probably just you overreacting, right?

“Right… Could I get your phone number, just in case?” You say. She recites her number to you and you quickly enter it into your phone and save the contact, just in case of an emergency. You then turn around and kneel to look your daughter in the face.

“Be good, okay Mimi? I promise I’ll be back soon,” You say, giving her a quick peck on the forehead and a hug. She looks extremely hesitant and to be honest, so are you, but you’re already running late… “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Demi says meekly.

You smile and turn to leave.

If Tiara sent her, there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

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You parked in front of the house that your best friend and her boyfriend lived in. You had no guesses as to why she called you here, but if your technology skills could be useful to her, you’d want to help in any way you can.

You knock on the door and after a while, Kelly answers but stops you before you can go inside. “We kind of got ourselves in some shit, we’ll fill you in.”

She grabs your wrist, pulls you inside, and closes the door shut. The first thing that you lay your eyes on is the monitors that Dorn was sifting through. Pulling up various pictures of people and files that look confidential.

Should I even be here right now…?

“What's the situation?” You ask as you move towards Dorn.

“Remember when we told you all that stuff about Captain Conrad–”

“(Name)?”

You pause when you hear your name. The voice sounds so familiar you're almost scared to turn around and see who it was that called you. You think you know who it was that called, which is probably another reason as to why it takes you so very long to fully turn and face the man that has broken your heart time and time again.

It’s like the world stopped. All of a sudden, everyone in that room except for the man in front of you was irrelevant. There were so many things you wanted to say, yet no words left your mouth.

What is he doing here?

Why is he here?

All of the emotions flowing through you quickly became too much. Without a word, your feet guided you to the nearest room in which you could be alone.

“Do yall know each other?” Mike asked, but received no answer when his son went after the girl, “Do they know each other?” He asked in a more general way, but was met with nothing. The tension silenced everyone.

You ripped your arm out of the hand that had caught it when you reached the empty room. “Get the fuck off of me! What the hell are you doing here?” You exclaimed angrily. All of a sudden, all of those feelings you felt were entirely replaced by rage. Anger, directed at the man who’d left you without a second thought.

“I–” Armando began, but was cut off.

“Y’know what, I don’t care! Get the hell out of my face!”

“(Name), wait– stop,” He said, grabbing hold of your bicep when you tried to turn away from him again.

“You have some fucking nerve!” You growled, entirely in shock of the fact that he thinks he’ll just have a nice chat with you, “I haven’t seen your ass in years! Not a fucking call, or even a damn text! Nothing!”

“I know, I know, I didn’t plan on it being like that,” he pointed out. In actuality, he had no clue or reason as to why he followed you here. He knew he fucked up their relationship and a few words wasn’t going to change that fact. So why was he so desperate to get you to hear him out? He was never like this. It’s been years, why do you still have this weird affect on him?

“Yeah? Well I never planned on being abandoned by you, but look where we fuckin’ are now. Get the hell away from me,” You seethed. He had no clue how hard you were trying not to cry, “I said get the hell off of me!”

You snatch your arm from his grip. Deep down, underneath all of the anger that had boiled up to the surface, you’d missed Armando. You really did. Dealing with the pain of losing him, and never hearing from him until, well now. Taking care of Demi–

Does he even know about Demi? Does he know he’s a…

“Guys, so sorry to interrupt but we have a problem,” Kelly announced from around a corner. You hold eye contact with Armando for a few more seconds, trying to read his face but ultimately giving up. You didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. You stomp out of the room, and he lags behind you.

Upon entering the room where everyone was gathering around Dorn and his monitors, you see he is tapped into someone's security feed, which you quickly find out is Marcus’ and Mikes’ homes where their families were. Dorn was notifying the police to send backup and you realize that there are people attempting to break into the homes. Does this have something to do with their investigation with Captain Conrad?

Mike and Marcus grab their phones and quickly make calls, telling their people to hide, and leave their houses. You watch the cameras and watch as the masked men make their way into the two guys’ respective houses.

“Fuck, fuck!” Marcus says when he watches someone from his house grab a gun from a safe and hide the rest of the family in a closet. You can only home that whoever Marcus decided to trust with his family’s safety was skilled.

Everyone watches and commentates on the man's performance in the security feed, taking down the trespassers one by one until he is able to safely transport the rest of the family out of the house, but not before saluting to the security camera for us onlookers to see.

Mike is not so lucky, as he is not able to reach his wife in time to warn her and the girl who was with her at the time. We all have to watch when she’s easily overpowered and tied up. Mike is still on the phone with her, able to hear everything that’s going on.

A sudden devious voice sounds through the phone, one that was definitely not his wife, “Mr. Lowrey.”

“Who am I speaking to?” Mike lowers his voice and says in a serious tone.

“I think you know who you’re speaking to,” the voice says ominously, “I need your boy, and whatever evidence your beloved Captain has foiled away.” You eye Armando whose eyes were flicking back and forth from the phone to Mike, “And for that, you can have your wife. I’ll call you back with instructions.”

“Ah, shit…” Mike grumbles, but the man on the other side of the phone has not yet hung up.

“Ms. (Name), I know you’re there as well.” Your heart drops to your toes. What could this man want with you? “I’d go ahead and check the security systems for your house as well.” A beep was heard as the man hung up and your eyes widened. No…

He wouldn't, right? You had nothing to do with this operation.

Nevertheless, you pushed Dorn out of the way and pulled up your homes’ cameras, and scanned for anything out of the ordinary. You spotted Demi playing with dolls in her room. The only thing was that you couldn’t spot the babysitter, but you figured she must’ve been in the bathroom.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“Who’s kid is that?” Armando spoke up. You looked over but didn’t fully turn around, fearing he’d already figured it out, and just wanted clarification. You were afraid. You were afraid that if he found out, he’d come back into your life. Demi’s life. You didn’t want to get hurt again. You don’t think you could handle him leaving you again, so you stayed silent. You left the question to hang in the air.

The breath you let out was sucked back in when you saw your front door open slightly, then all the way and three masked intruders walked in. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, snatching up your phone and dialing the phone number you’d received from the new babysitter before. She answered after one ring, which you were entirely grateful for, “Sara, grab Demi and get the hell out of there, now. Please!” You frantically spew out. You’d be surprised if she caught any of that.

There was no response on the other end until Sara spoke, “There’s people in the house?” She asked, too calm for your liking.

“Yes, so grab Demi and get the fuck out of there. Take the window if you have to, they’re searching the living room right now,” You say, watching the men search the living room and kitchen, slowly making their way down the hallway which they would find your daughter.

Again, no response. That is, until the chilling words made their way into your ears. “Finally, I was wondering when they’d arrive.” And she hung up.

Your eyes were blown wide enough to where you were sure you were going to start hearing colors and seeing sounds. You were speechless and your heart was racing a mile a minute as you watched the ‘babysitter’ pick your daughter up and… deliver her to the intruders.

You could only watch, helpless as your daughter was kidnapped.

What the hell just happened?

#armando aretas #armando aretas x reader #bad boys ride or die #bad boys ride or die x reader #bad boys x reader #armando aretas x you #kimarii-00

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codnasties · 6 months ago

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ghghhhgh hiii i have graves brainrot

graves with younger gf me who finds out about remote controlled toys and toys that you can use from a long distance

sooner or later he's invited me into his office and is playing with the remote as he works, watching me from a distance and holding back a laugh as I crumple to the ground in front of 4 shadows

or we're at home and he's trying to break me as I go about my day with the toy in my pussy, but he's not letting me cum either, he's just edging me for an entire day

fowjksjdaksn he's so MEAN and HOT I need him SO BAD

remote controlled toys w/graves 🪦 (🌽 link)

graves may be tech savvy in a lot of very specific areas. bro's literally out there operating and disarming fucking balistic missiles for a job. but the one thing he doesn't have that much knowledge on is sex toys.

so him learning about remote controlled toys? it's over for you. he may have learnt purely by chance, doing some 'studying' or after you told him, but the idea of being able to play with his pretty pussy, teasing it and make you squirm all while having full control... that's all he craves.

he now has an extensive collection of toys of this kind, and while at first he kept the playing at home, you somehow end tied up in a corner in his office. squirming trying to either stop the stimulation or get the vibe to hit that one spot you know will make you cum immediately.

philip will be absentmindedly playing with the intensity of the toy that's sitting snuggly inside of you as he works, relishing your sweet moans as he works, making you completely crumble. even in front of his shadows.

but when he once made you cum in front of a group of shadows, that's when the possesive part of him kicked in and that shit returned to being a home-only thing-

#cod #cod smut #cod x reader #cod headcanons #cod x y/n #cod x you #p!link #graves x y/n #philip graves x reader #graves x you #graves x reader #phillip graves #cod graves #graves cod #graves smut

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urlovebot · 1 year ago

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this makes me think of nerdy loser bf! sunghoon who works in tech and makes a shit load of money that he spends on his gf :(

nerdy loser bf! sunghoon makes sure to buy you a lot of skimpy skirts and tight blouses to wear since you're his secretary and its policy for you to dress like a whore for him. each time you strut in his office, his jeans get tight and he beckons you over to his desk.

nerdy loser bf! sunghoon usually ends up flipping your skirt and eating you out on top of his paperwork. he tells you to make a mess on his face and whines out while doing so. when you do finally cum in his mouth, he stands up and towers over you. his face glistening in your juices, cheeks red and pupils blown wide.

"can i fuck this pretty pussy baby?" his big hands dance down your body and cup your cunt. when your back arches into his touch, he inserts two fingers into your opening and scissors them in and out, prepping you for the size of his cock.

nerdy loser bf! sunghoon who is HUNG... his brows knit together and his lip goes between his teeth as he concentrates on not just slamming his entire length inside of you. he doesnt want to hurt you but his balls ache and he just needs to cum inside of you

cum eater nerdy loser bf! sunghoon who cums just a little too quickly and stuffs you full of him, just to pull out slurp up your combined fluids, his eyes rolling back when he gets a taste

nerdy loser bf! sunghoon who HAS to give you a sloppy kiss after cleaning you up

nerdy loser bf! sunghoon who steals your panties afterwards and tells you to get back to work with a cheeky grin

#sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enhypen #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #smut #kpop smut

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gottencents · 2 months ago

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Meddle About - Jennie Kim

main masterlist | navigation

pairing. idol!jennie x gf!reader

synopsis. After a show stopping Coachella performance, global star Jennie Kim seeks refuge in the arms of her secret girlfriend Y/N

The Coachella desert was buzzing—lights flooding the night sky, music pulsing through the ground, and thousands of voices screaming for what was easily the most anticipated set of the festival.

Jennie Kim was about to take the stage.

And Y/N could barely breathe.

She stood just behind the sound booth in the artist-only section, surrounded by crew, fellow performers, and a handful of VIP guests. Her hoodie was pulled low, sunglasses covering her eyes despite the fact that the sun had dipped long ago behind the horizon. Still, she felt exposed.

Not because of the crowd. Not because of the cameras.

But because her girlfriend—her actual girlfriend—was about to step on stage in front of the entire world, and she felt every second of Jennie’s nerves, passion, and pressure like it was her own.

Lisa stood beside her, arms crossed as she swayed to the DJ’s pre-set track, while Rosé leaned casually against the barricade with her phone half-raised, already filming the setup.

“You okay?” Lisa asked, nudging her.

“I’m fine,” Y/N mumbled, barely glancing away from the stage.

“You’ve adjusted your sleeves like six times,” Rosé added without looking.

Y/N didn’t answer. Her stomach was in knots.

They hadn’t seen each other all day. Jennie had been in full rehearsal mode, locked in trailers and sound checks and dress fittings. They’d only exchanged three texts—two of them from Jennie saying, “Don’t watch if you’ll cry,” and “I’ll be looking for you.”

And then the lights shut off.

The screen on stage lit up with a countdown. The crowd roared.

Ten… nine… eight…

Y/N’s heart pounded in sync with each second. Behind her glasses, her eyes locked on the rising fog across the stage.

Three… two… one.

The beat dropped. Flames shot up from either side of the platform. And when the smoke cleared—

Jennie appeared.

Dressed in a black, gem-studded western outfit, cowboy hat tilted low, abs glistening under the stage lights, she looked like every fantasy the internet had ever whispered about her—but sharper. Realer. Hers.

Y/N blinked.

Jennie took one step forward—and the entire crowd screamed. She walked like she owned the desert. Like she wasn’t just headlining but had been born for it.

“Holy shit,” Lisa muttered under her breath.

“I’m not even attracted to women and I’m weak,” Rosé whispered.

But Y/N said nothing.

Because Jennie was looking right at her.

In the middle of “ZEN,” she broke from formation. Her eyes scanned the viewing pit—and locked.

One second. Two.

And then she smiled—soft, private—and blew Y/N a kiss before spinning right back into choreography like it never happened.

Y/N’s chest squeezed.

Lisa gasped, hitting her shoulder. “Girlfriend.”

“She’s so annoying,” Y/N muttered with a flustered grin.

“She’s in love,” Rosé said with a knowing smirk. “So are you. Don’t deny it.”

POST-PERFORMANCE – BACKSTAGE

The instant Jennie stepped off stage, her body was shaking—high from the performance, from the screams, from the adrenaline coursing through every nerve.

She barely registered the team rushing to her side—stylists with towels, a PR assistant trying to guide her toward the press line, the sound tech grabbing her mic pack. Someone was already filming. Someone else was snapping backstage pics.

“Jennie, incredible set!”

“You just broke Instagram, girl!”

She smiled politely. Thanked them. Hugged Kali Uchis with a whispered “you killed it too”—but her mind was already somewhere else.

Someone else.

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” she asked, breathless, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt.

A crew member blinked. “Uh, I think she’s with Lisa by the trailers?”

Jennie didn’t say a word. Just turned and ran.

She weaved through the maze of trailers, ignoring people calling her name, cameras trying to get shots, journalists trying to wave her down. It didn’t matter.

She needed her.

And then—

There. Hoodie. Sunglasses. Still trying to blend in even though she was glowing from a mile away.

Jennie didn’t slow down.

“Y/N,” she breathed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into her chest like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

Y/N barely had time to react before Jennie buried her face in her neck.

“I missed you,” Jennie murmured.

Y/N held her just as tightly. “You just got off stage.”

“I still missed you.”

She pulled back enough to look into her girlfriend’s eyes. There was so much love there—raw and messy and overwhelming.

“You were insane up there,” Y/N said, brushing sweaty strands of hair off Jennie’s cheek. “Like… stupidly hot.”

Jennie smirked. “I saw you watching.”

“I always watch you.”

Jennie kissed her then—quick, dizzy, before anyone could round the corner. Not the kind of kiss that begged to be seen, but the kind that promised everything in private.

“I need you,” she whispered. “Just for a few minutes. Come with me?”

Y/N nodded without hesitation. “Lead the way.”

The second the trailer door locked behind them, Jennie’s body lost all tension. The crowd’s roar was a distant hum now, muffled by thick trailer walls and the buzz of air conditioning kicking on low overhead. The mirror lights glowed softly in the background, casting warm shadows across the room.

Jennie stood there, staring at Y/N. No words. Just breathing.

Her cheeks were flushed, body glistening with sweat under her cropped stage outfit. Her lip gloss was a little smudged, hair messy from the mic and wind machines, but her eyes—God, her eyes—were so full of something only Y/N ever got to see.

Without needing a signal, Y/N stepped forward and slipped her arms around her waist, pulling Jennie close until their foreheads touched.

Jennie let out a breath—one of relief, one of exhaustion, one of complete surrender.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” Jennie whispered, voice hoarse. “It didn’t matter how many people screamed. I just wanted you.”

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through Jennie’s damp hair. “I was right here the whole time.”

Jennie leaned in and kissed her—softly, first. Just a press of lips and the familiar warmth between them. But it didn’t stay gentle for long.

The kiss deepened—Jennie’s fingers weaving into Y/N’s hair, her other hand sliding around to the small of her back, holding her closer. Y/N responded in kind, gripping Jennie’s waist and tugging her flush against her body. The heat between them ignited instantly—fueled by distance, adrenaline, and how achingly much they’d missed each other.

Jennie’s mouth opened slightly, inviting, and Y/N’s tongue slipped in. They kissed like they were starved—like the trailer was the only place in the world, and nothing existed beyond it. Jennie moaned quietly into Y/N’s mouth, and the sound made Y/N’s stomach flip.

Jennie moved them backwards, lips still locked, until Y/N’s legs bumped the edge of the small couch in the trailer. They sank into it, Jennie straddling her lap without missing a beat. The hat came off. The jacket slipped from Jennie’s shoulders. Neither of them cared where it landed.

Jennie broke the kiss for half a second, panting softly, forehead resting against Y/N’s.

“You always do this to me,” she murmured. “One look at you and I forget how to function.”

Y/N laughed breathlessly. “That makes two of us.”

Jennie’s lips were back on hers before the words even faded. This time slower—more deliberate. Her hands roamed—fingertips tracing along Y/N’s neck, her jaw, the outline of her ribs beneath her shirt. Every touch said, you’re mine. Every kiss answered, I know.

Y/N’s hands found Jennie’s thighs, gripping firmly as Jennie rolled her hips forward, not in an attempt to take things further—but just to feel. To be close. To prove this was real.

Jennie pulled back slightly, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen from kissing. Her fingers played with the hem of Y/N’s shirt.

“I want to stay here forever,” Jennie whispered. “Just like this. Just you and me.”

Y/N reached up and brushed her thumb gently over Jennie’s bottom lip. “Then stay. No one’s gonna pull you away.”

Jennie kissed her again, slower this time. She savored it. Sighed into it. Let herself melt completely into Y/N’s arms.

The world could wait. For now, this moment—them—was all that mattered.

#cents works #kpop wlw #kpop gg x reader #jennie x fem reader #jennie kim x fem reader #blackpink jennie x reader #jennie kim x reader #jennie x reader #blackpink jennie #jennie #jennie kim #blackpink x fem reader #blackpink x reader #Spotify

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