#I had two bags of bagels

[yarnings]

So, I’m not fully able bodied. I don’t really call myself disabled (physically), because most of the time I’m fine. It’s just that every now and again, one of my joints (these days it’s my ankles) will just up and tell me “nope, not now”. It doesn’t happen often enough for me even to have gone to the doctor about it (I admit, I was kind of hoping that getting my new orthotics would address it).

The problem is that one of those days was today. When I was *almost* to the bus stop, to go do a *big* grocery shop. Like, instead of my regular backpack I grabbed a hiking backpack to carry stuff that didn’t fit into the big bundle buggy home with. So here I am, coming home from the grocery store, hobbling to the courtesy seats at the front of the bus with a GIANT hiking backpack on, a 15+kilo large bundle buggy, and a bag of rice (only 8kg though) that didn’t fit into either of those.

I ended up calling a friend when I got off the bus to help me get everything home.

#my ankle was largely better by then #but I had forgotten to bring shopping bags #so in addition to the rice biting into my hands #I had two bags of bagels #that didn't fit into either the cart or the knapsack #and the combination of everything #was just too much #shit #I just remembered #I had a plastic grocery bag with me #because I carry it in case I'm going to buy meat #and I could have stuck the bagels into that #and been so much better off #oh well #now I need to decide #if I'm going to dig out my cane before school pickup #for just in case #once my ankle's better it'll stay that way #but if it's not fully better #I could have trouble #unfortunately we keep the cane in the bedroom #on the grounds that we have to keep it somewhere #and the most recent time it would have been useful #involved my husband waking up #and realising that he should have done something #about the leg he had bruised the day before #and all the canes were in the basement

[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

[chaosandmarigolds]

Dad!Simon who insisted you go on the vacation, because of course he can handle his baby girl and his six year old (almost six, but Ollie rounds up)

Simon who knew he had it in the bag....

for about two hours

Simon who made bagels for dinner; wassss this close 🤏to making Ollie eat dirt because WHAT DO YOU MEAN you don't like bagels now you were begging for them in the store!

Simon who made it about forty hours before he gave him and called Johnny

Simon who had no idea why Ollie was being so gosh darn annoying

Simon who had previously made a bet with Price that he wouldn't need help so therefore he would rather die than call Price even though Ollie idolizes his 'grandfather'

''s Johnny, missed ya but leave a message at the lil' beep."

"John MacTavish I swear to god if you don' call me back in ten minutes I will personally post thos' pictures of ya in Afgan."

two minutes later-

"ya know that's a real low blow-"

"I need you to take Oliver to th' park- Tessie isn't goin to sleep with him 'roun."

"Call the capn, he's closer to ya."

"I will not do that."

"Ugh, fine- lemme tell my girl then'll be there in twenty."

Simon who told Oliver to behave for his uncle and then happily sent them away- which finally he would be able to put the exhausted newborn to sleep

Simon was finally able to doze off on the sofa, the baby happily snoozing away on his chest and everything seemed perfect with the world

"MISTER RILEY UNCLE JOHNNY IS IS-HES-" The thundering slam of the door being swung open not only woke up Simon but the baby who aptly began to sob to the sudden change of pace, Oliver however did not care "UNCLE JOHNNY SUCKS."

Uncle Johnny told Ollie not to kick the ball into the river

Simon who is flabbergasted because even Johnny looked shook to his core, sure they had been at the park for about five hours but like-???

John MacTavish...brought down .... by Simon's six year old

Simon who, after ten minutes of the baby screaming for their mother and refusing to take their bottle with disgruntled wails of pain and Ollie so tired he can't think straight so he's also a sobbing and angry disaster and Johnny's just standing there by the door waiting for answers and everything is so loud-

"Capn?"

"Oh! Hi, sweetheart," John's wife answered the landline and he could hear her voice call for her husband, "Hi, how are you and lil' ones?"

Simon looked at Ollie who was currently in time out for stealing his sisters binkie for the tenth time, "Not great."

"O-"

"Simon." Price's voice cut in and it took about five seconds to get everything account for, "Ya already called Johnny right?"

"Yessir."

"Did you try Kyle?"

"No sir, he's on his honeymoon."

'"Ah-that's right, that's right."

Silence

"Sir I would like your help."

"Ha! Knew it! Alrighty, missus and I'll be there in...i dunno- you boys hungry? She made that-honey whatcha make?" indistinct conversation, "Ma'am said it didn't matter, she'll bring it anyway. Forty minutes?"

Simon looked at Johnny, who was on 'keep ollie in said time out' picking up the kid whenever he would try and run off. "Can you make it twenty, sir?"

Simon and Johnny who, out of habit, stood at attention as soon at the captain let himself into the house

Simon who looked a bit worse for wear, even with his non existant sleep scheulde in the military he had never looked so fatigued

Simon who had the baby out of his arms by Price's wife within two minutes of them being there

Simon who loves his son, he loves him (internal mantra) but he is making him look bad to his captain so the little twerp better get his act together.

"Riley."

"Yessir."

"How long is your block?"

"Two kilometers around."

"Two laps."

faltering silence through the house, Simon stared at the captain as he helped Ollie tie his sneakers by the door. The silence did mean Tessie had finally fallen asleep but he was- "I'm sorry?"

"Two laps, you, Johnny, and Oliver." Price looked to the kid, who looked more angry at the world than anything else, "Go. Dinner will be ready when you get back."

Simon was about to argue but Ollie beat him to it, "I don't want to run."

"You don't want to run?"

Oliver seemed a bit taken back, "No. So I'm not going to."

"Okay. You can clean the entire house- including your sisters nappy's, for a week, yeah?"

A pause.

"Fine, i'll go on the stupid run."

Simon who might as well be walking with the pace Oliver chose to keep

Johnny who took off sprinting because lord knew that man was starving and Mrs. Price's food was heaven on earth

Simon who sat down on the side of the road when the little guy was out of breath

Simon that mostly ran in silence until Ollie broke it

"Why did mom leave?"

huh?

"What?"

"Mom she-she just...she left us, wh-"

"Whoa-whoa whoa, mum didn't leave-mum didn't leave us wh-whoa, Olls," he had collapsed to his knee when the boy started to speak just to look at him in the eyes and he tried to read the boys expression, "Mum would never leave you, she loves you so much."

"Then where did she go?? Why didn't she say goodbye?"

"She's with her friends, and her flight left 'fore you woke up, Olls. Laddie, she wouldn't leave you."

Simon who had called you, even though there was time difference as everyone was sitting down to eat dinner

"oh...wow the gang's back together," You grumble as you rub your eyes, having been dead asleep, only for the camera angle to change suddenly and it was just a close up angle of your son's face, "Hi baby."

"Mom guess what Uncle Johnny did."

"EY, LET'S NOT TELL YER MOM BOUT THAT."

"Hey mom?" The boy was easily distracted and then looked down at the phone again.

"Yeah baby?"

"Never go on away again, dad said so."

You stay silent for a moment, blinking, because in all three years you and Simon had been together Ollie had never referred to him as 'dad' or anything remotely close. "Your...right, yeah-I'm pretty bored here anyway."

Simon, who was fine with you going on little getaways just not anymore how dare you try and leave him alone

"You sure it's okay if I stay a few more days?"

With a short laugh he looks over the living room, where Johnny and Olls were fast asleep watching some cartoon he didn't know the name of while John and His wife had chosen to stay in the guest room for the night. It would hell if you stayed for a few more days.

"Of course, luv, I got the boys an' Tessie needs to learn who they are anyway."

"I guess. Okay, the ride is here. I love you."

"I love you more."

(annnnway that's it <333 any comments you wanna leave or anything like that makes my day!)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #cod x you #cod fluff #ghost x you #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny mactavish #john price #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad simon riley #coco's chaos <3 #coco’s pre k universe! <3 #cod x reader #xfem!reader #x female reader

[pellucid-constellations]

Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n:​​​ I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. 

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties. 

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be. 

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall. 

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job. 

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

The library really needed new ceiling tiles. 

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done. 

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes. 

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. 

Your jaw ticked. “Home.” 

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon. 

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.” 

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.” 

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.” 

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?” 

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.” 

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?” 

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned. 

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window. 

He was lucky you accepted bribes. 

~~

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.” 

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?” 

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend. 

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.” 

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?” 

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?” 

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time. 

Not that that sounded the least bit grand. 

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense. 

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?” 

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.” 

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.” 

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote. 

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text. 

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over. 

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.” 

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?” 

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.” 

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.” 

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible. 

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you. 

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice. 

The duality of man. 

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.” 

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.” 

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.” 

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.” 

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way. 

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.” 

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.” 

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips. 

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite. 

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back. 

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.” 

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?” 

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier. 

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small. 

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.” 

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks. 

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.” 

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.” 

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more. 

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.  

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.” 

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.” 

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?” 

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.” 

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had. 

~~

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend. 

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes. 

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing. 

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met. 

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan. 

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house. 

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.” 

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore. 

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission. 

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went. 

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face. 

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?” 

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.” 

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.” 

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?” 

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection. 

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat. 

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.” 

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.” 

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied. 

He asked again how much you’d had to drink. 

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments. 

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.” 

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.” 

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.” 

“M’not even that drunk!” 

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.” 

“Maybe I want to be in your room.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” 

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.” 

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?” 

“So much.” 

“How much?” 

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed. 

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat. 

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum. 

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.” 

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.” 

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.” 

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” 

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—” 

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.” 

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?” 

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.” 

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met. 

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating. 

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them? 

“Would you let me?” he responds. 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you. 

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore. 

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted. 

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work. 

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered. 

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.” 

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out. 

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up. 

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating. 

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

~~

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming 

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one. 

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it. 

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it. 

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one. 

From: University Peer Assistance Program 

Dear Y/n Y/l/n, 

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours. 

Thank you, 

University Peer Assistance 

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on. 

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you. 

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible? 

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls. 

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you? 

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine. 

His mistake. 

That word felt wrong. 

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs. 

Ice cream would fix this. 

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off. 

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head. 

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register. 

“Nice outfit.” 

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good. 

“Thanks,” you quietly replied. 

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?” 

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.” 

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.” 

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked. 

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort. 

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.” 

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist. 

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels. 

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip. 

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.” 

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight. 

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine. 

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.” 

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again. 

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist. 

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.” 

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work. 

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again. 

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking. 

“Please let go of me.” 

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it. 

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes. 

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled. 

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.” 

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?” 

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting. 

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither. 

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking? 

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor. 

“Look at me, y/n.” 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. 

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed. 

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too. 

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?” 

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine. 

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form. 

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.” 

“Of course.” 

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high. 

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him. 

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.” 

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?” 

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.” 

“You get harassed all the time too?” 

“No…” 

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.” 

“Bucky—” 

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.” 

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go. 

“I’m not following,” you finally relented. 

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off. 

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.” 

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks. 

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less. 

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.” 

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful. 

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about” 

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.” 

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—” 

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?” 

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring. 

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway. 

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.” 

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that. 

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.” 

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground. 

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.” 

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.” 

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache. 

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.” 

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.” 

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.” 

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #college!bucky #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #college AU #frat!bucky #marvel imagine

[toppersjeep]

Landos Girl ~ Lando Norris X Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I got this idea while watching ginge’s and landos new video. so basically you show up to landos when he’s filming with ginge and you join in on the fun. you’ve been dating Lando for a while now. you work with him at McLaren as a pr manger. that’s how you two met!

(a little fluff, mentions of smut but no actual)

Your POV

I opened the door to Lando’s apartment with my key. I set my bag down and took my shoes off. Knowing I’d be staying for a while.

“Lan” I said. “In the kitchen” Lando said. “Oh hello are you filming” I said. “Yeah a quadrant video I meant to text you” Lando said. “All good I had a major McLaren meeting so” I said. “No way is that the Y/N in the flesh” Ginge said. “Ginge” I said.

“Guys I’m shaking Lando’s girl in person” Ginge said I laughed. “It’s nice to officially meet you” I said shaking his hand. “Don’t worry I won’t try to take your man yet” Ginge said. “Oh you won’t even get a try” I said. “Oh shit she is a bit scary huh” Ginge said.

“So.. I’ll let you guys film then because I am not eating whatever he eats for breakfast” I said. “What she doesn’t have to eat it” Ginge said. “She should” lando said. “No thanks I had a bagel earlier” I said going to sit on the couch.

“Damn and you couldn’t bring us any the hell” Ginge said. “Ooops” I said. “She doesn’t share her food you know” Lando said. “Well that’s rude” Ginge said.

A little while later…

I got up off the couch. I then saw Lando and Ginge working out. I stood in the doorway.

“Have her try the head pull thingy” Ethan said.“I think she does that with Lando off camera” Ginge said. “Oh my god” I said laughing. “Jeez mate” Lando said. “What we know you do” Ginge said.

“What’s next” I said. “Uhh landos turn” Ethan said. “I wanna see you guys pull him I’m intrigued” I said sitting on the floor. “As long as you do it too” Lando said. “Fine” I said. Ginge went first and pulled Lando. “My god he’s not even flinching” Ginge said.

“It feels quite nice” Lando said I laughed. “Really your weird mate” Ginge said. Ethan then did it. “Come on slow and hard” Ginge said. I laughed. “Oh be quiet over there with your dirty mind” Ethan said. “I didn’t say anything yet” I said.

“Keyword is yet” Lando said. Ethan the pulled the bands back. “What the heck so you even feel that” Ethan said. “It just feels nice” Lando said. “Alright your turn” Ethan said I got up. “Come on baby” Lando said. “I have like no muscles” I said. “You got it love” Lando said. I pulled it a little bit.

“No muscles my ass” Ginge said. “That’s good” Lando said. “Okay” I said stopping. “He’s flexing his jaw muscles now” Ethan said. “That’s so hot” Ginge said we all laughed.

We then went to eat some lunch.

“This is like rabbit food” Ginge said. “I just want some pizza” I said. “Don’t start pizza sounds good” Lando said. After we finished eating we went to show Ginge and Ethan around Monaco.

“I’m getting shotgun by the way” I said. “Ughhh fine” Ginge said getting in the backseat with Ethan. “So how long have you two been dating” Ethan asked. As Lando drove.

“Uhhh like a year almost two” I said. “Met her at McLaren well I kinda knew of her before” Lando said. “Oh really” Ginge said. “I worked at Willam’s with George but I wasn’t very social” I said. “Really you not social” Ethan said.

“Ughhh I guess I was just anxious about making friends” I said. “But then I did make friends and got a new job” I said. “I guess I brought out her fun side as she says” Lando said. “That’s nice” Ethan said. “Well you two do seem perfect but I’m still jealous” Ginge said.

“He’s mine Ginge” I said. “You win you win” Ginge said jokingly. “Hope everyone is hungry” Lando said. We all ate dinner and shared stories. I sat beside Lando. “Desert was so good” Ginge said. “You two go out every night or no” Ethan asked.

“Not too often it’s quite expensive” I said. Lando then licked the plate clean. “Oh my god” Ginge said. “Damn I really wish I was that plate right now” I said. Everyone laughed. “Oh my and she says she’s shy” Ethan said. Lando just looked at me all red.

“What” I said looking at Lando. “You got him all flustered” Ginge said. “You can be the plate later” Lando said. “Oh lord” Ethan said. “Get these two love birds a room” Ginge said. “Oh I’ll get one later on” Lando said. “Lord” I said.

“You two are perfect honestly with those out of pocket things” Ginge said. “Oh I know” Lando said. After we dropped them off we went back to our apartment. I kicked my shoes off and attempted to lay on the couch.

But Lando grabbed my arm.

“You wanted to be the plate so badly” Lando said. “I still do” I said. “So come on then” Lando said leading me to our room.

____

#f1 imagine #x reader #love #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #f1blr #f1 x you #f1 x reader #mercedes amg f1 #f1 fic #f1 #lando norris smut

[eddiernunson]

"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.                                                                         

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

 Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it.  His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him.  Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

-

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[kaiijo]

WORK WIFE — KUROO TETSUROU

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)

you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.” 

you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer. 

you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”

“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”

“‘gentleman,’” you snort. 

kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”

“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”

he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”

“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office. 

when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”

you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”

kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”

“yeah?”

“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”

“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”

you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”

“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”

“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”

“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”

“you know i always have time for you.”

kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together. 

“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”

you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”

he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”

you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you. 

it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.

nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask. 

he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word. 

he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”

he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself. 

what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks. 

thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”

he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”

“what are you talking about?”

he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”

you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”

“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest. 

“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”

“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”

“really?” 

you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”

“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”

“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”

kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”

“good to know you’re a protective husband.”

he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”

“don’t i know it.”

as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”

your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”

a year and a half later.

nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”

“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say. 

“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”

you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”

nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”

“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”

you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”

he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”

nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”

“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

[blue-jisungs]

Hey! Loved the BTS arguing abt paying could u do it for skz??

arguing about paying ♡

author's note. thank uuu!! i hope u’ll like this one ^_^

psssst anon is talking about this thing here

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

yeah actually you won’t be able to pay for anything

like, ever

he’s just ??? using the leader card + it’s just how he is + the gentleman in him would rather die than let you pay

so even when you whine that you hate it and you can handle paying on your own

he’s cooing and shaking his head while the payment is already processed

and if you pout about it later, he’ll make sure to kiss the pout away ^_^

┆彡 MINHO [ 민호 ]

would rather bite his hand off than let you pay on a date

or bite you when you were about to pay…? totally did not happen at least twice…?

he’d get actually offended if you even offered to pay for the meal you two had

so he pays with a :] look on his face while you’re grumpy abt it

“what kind of boyfriend would i be then, hm?” asks and promises that in return, you can choose what you’re gonna have for dessert

whatever logic that is

┆彡 CHANGBIN [ 창빈 ]

you know that half amused half shocked half offended face he makes??

help idk how to explain it 😭

yeah that’s exactly the face he makes when you pay for your cosmetics

he’s like???

“you just offended my ego”

help ??

he’s SO dramatic about like ,, acts as if you shot him

he’ll have his hand on the small of your back, carrying your bags and he just pays for you with a goofy grin

“let me spoil my baby, hm?” is all he says with a handsome smile and you cave in bc he just has that effect on you…

┆彡 HYUNJIN [ 현진 ]

drama llama.

gasps like he’s running out of air as you put the card to the scanner

you and the cashier are both like 🤨

when you leave the store he’s whining and clinging onto you as if you’re dying

for your own sake pls let him pay next time,, always

will actually threaten you to hold his breath next time 🧍‍♀️

bc he just wants to spoil you >:)

┆彡 JISUNG [ 지성 ]

ji would let you pay for your makeup shopping

but then he’d feel bad :(

so next time when you’re about to pay for some clothes, he’s softly grabbing your hand and offers to pay

he literally looks like this > 🥺 so you have to agree

and that’s his trick: puppy eyes. no one can resist them :”)

┆彡 FELIX [ 필릭스 ]

“there’s naur way i’m letting you pay for all of that” is what he says when you two ordered like a half of the menu

so your response is to split the bill

he starts LAUGHING SO LOUD and refuses 😑

so he pays but “promises” you that you’ll be the one paying next time

and NEXT TIME looks literally the same

“nooo i ate most of it, i’ll pay” mhm.

he’ll come up with every excuse in the book so you don’t pay <\3

┆彡 SEUNGMIN [ 승민 ]

he’s making a poker face as soon as you even start asking if you should pay

and even when he’ll say no and you’ll STILL try

welp…

the waiter in the cafe said that your order was already payed.

and same thing happens literally everytime

seungmo somehow manages to pay in advance so um… good luck

┆彡 JEONGIN [ 정인 ]

will cry scream throw up if you say that you want to pay

eyes wide, mouth agape

“if you pay…… i’m breaking up with you!!!” he whines and adds something about his chivalry being dishonoured

um so yeah another whiny dramatic baby

and if you cave in and let him pay, he’s the happiest ever

acting as if he just saved your life and not paid for the bagel you got

masterlist <3

taglist.  @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang ,, @vnsux

#skz #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids fluff #skz stay #skz imagines #skz changbin #skz fanfic #skz felix #skz hyunjin #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #skz jeongin #jisung skz #skz minho #seungmin skz #skz reactions #skz x stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #blue jisungs’s requests #skz drabbles #skz soft hours

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Happily Never After

Part 2 of Holiday Compromise

Summary: With your company expanding and dealing with your parents trying to get a hold of you, your plan to purpose to Wanda has been put on hold.

Note: Their will be MAJOR spoilers in the warnings.

Warnings: implied sex, nudity and non sexual nudity, drinking, stalking, threatening message, kidnapping, reader is a simp for Wanda and the boys, Vision is a decent man, talk of past trauma.

Word Count: 9.7k

"Have you asked her yet?" You looked up from your computer to see Natasha enter the conference room. Her arms were filled with her travel mug, breakfast, and laptop. She sighed when everything was out of her hands. She opened the brown paper bag, pulled out a breakfast sandwich, and handed it to you. You thanked her with a smile, but her question caught up with you.

"If I asked her to marry me, wouldn't you be the first to know?" You opened your food and took a bit, moaning at the taste. "That was stupid," it was a little muffled from the bagel in your mouth. Your comment received a quick slap to the back of your head. "Ouch," you whine, mouth full of food. You slapped her back, and she was quick to attack.

"Children," Yelena warned as she entered the room, followed by Shuri and Bucky. "Enough," Natasha mumbled something you missed in Russian and angrily sipped on her coffee. You laughed at her dramatic behavior and felt a little bad for Yelena. The blonde had to deal with you and Natasha as kids. Nine times out of ten, it ended up in a fight. "Can I see the ring?"

You smiled, took it out of your pocket, and slipped it across the table for the blonde to see. You bought it two days after the vacation with the family of three while Wanda was at work and the twins were at Vision's. It was a three-diamond ring from Tiffany's. The stones were pear-shaped. The ring was simple but flashy. You wanted to woo her. That was three months ago, and it was almost May.

Once Yelena was done, she handed it to Shuri. "I'm surprised you haven't lost it," Shuri teased and gave it to Bucky.

"Not a bad ring boss," he tossed it back to you and caught it. But Shuri is right," he said, taking his usual spot by the door. "You better pop the question before you lose it, or she finds it." Your team laughed.

"Why are you all picking on me?" You groaned. "I can fire all of you." Natasha chuckled.

"Please, your name is on the building, but everyone knows we run this company," you said, flipping the redhead off.

"Right, just remember I sign your checks each week," you deadpanned. "Let's go over any last-minute changes and questions we want to ask them." Your team was meeting with Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Bruce Banner of Stark Industries. When the holidays were over, an email from Pepper was in your inbox looking to form a business deal and collaborate with you. It was a dream come true to work with the Starks, and you wanted everything to go smoothly, which is one of the reasons why the ring was still with you and not on Wanda's finger. You were busy; if this meeting went well, you would be even busier.

You loved your job—making high-tech wearable devices like smartwatches, fitness trackers, and smart clothing. But at the end of the meeting, you were hoping to create a new line with Stark's AI system—FRIDAY. Wanda was supportive through it all, making you love her even more. She would ensure you were eating, drinking enough water, and spending time away from your desk. All of her actions made the ring feel heavier each day.

*

A gentle knock on your home office's door pulled you away from your paperwork. Much needed to be done since the deal was made with Stark Industries. It was Wanda, wearing one of your button-up shirts, and the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. You were pretty sure she was speaking, but the only thought in your head was how good she looked. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her red underwear. Her bare feet closed the distance between you and her. Carefully, she maneuvered onto your desk and sat down on the space. She could have ruined months of work, but it wouldn't have mattered to you. "Darling," she cupped your face in both her hands. "I was talking."

"And I wasn't listening," you admitted and grabbed her right foot, digging your thumb in the soul as you kissed her ankle. "I was thinking how beautiful you are, but how sexy it would be for my bite marks to cover your thighs," you bite down on the inside of her thigh. A hiss turned into a quiet moan left your girlfriend's lip. "Tell me what you were saying, baby."

"The boys are finally asleep," you continued your assault, littering her thighs with hickies. "Maybe," a quiet moan left her lips so she wouldn't wake the twins. "Extreme ice cream sundaes on a school night was not a good idea," you smirked. That was your idea, wanting to celebrate the deal with them.

"I'm sorry," you stood up slowly, undoing the shirt's buttons. Groaning when you saw she wasn't wearing a bra. "Tell me how to make it up to you," you loved the goosebumps that covered her skin. She was so sensitive, you loved it. When she didn't respond, you kissed her cheek and down the column of her throat. A sharp bite sent her hands to grip your hair. "Tell me, baby, I won't ask again."

"I need," her voice shook. You could feel heat radiating off her skin. "I need you to make me cum." It was the consent you needed. You pulled her hips to the edge of your desk and knelt between her lips. The paperwork that the team required tomorrow was no longer important. All you wanted -no, all you needed was to make your woman cum. Over and over again.

*

You splashed the cold water on your face to clean off the face wash. You were trying to be quiet as Wanda was asleep in bed. She tried to stay up with you as you finished the rest of your work, but it was a battle you knew she wouldn't win. She fell asleep on the couch, and once you were done, you carried her to bed and got ready. You were exhausted. Your work was terrific and essential, but some days, it felt like your brain was melting and dripping out of your nose. Sighing, you pulled back the covers and were about to join your sleeping girlfriend until your phone rang. You quickly silenced it, jumping at the sound. Luckily, Wanda remained asleep. "Fucking hell," you whispered and looked at the caller ID.

It was a number you hadn't seen in a long time—three years, to be exact—your father. You felt frozen; all you could do was watch the call and go to voicemail. "Sweetheart," Wanda's voice brought you back to reality. Are you coming back to bed?"

"Yeah," you said, silencing your phone and plugging it back into the charger. When you lay down, Wanda immediately placed her head on your chest.

"What's wrong?" Her accent was always deeper when she was tired. You thought it was cute. "Your heart is racing." Dammit. You hated how much your family affected you.

"It's because I'm in the presence of a goddess," she pinched your side and moved to rest her chin on your chest. You seemed to get lost in the green of her eyes. "I'm okay, baby. Just got a lot on my mind at work." She squinted her eyes at you.

"We are a team, remember?" You smiled and nodded.

"I remember," she kissed you softly and placed her head in the crook of your neck. "Sleep, baby. I promise I'm okay."

*

There was only one knock on your door before it opened to reveal your secretary, Sarah. "You have a visitor," you glanced at the clock. It was around lunch, and Wanda texted you this morning to say she wanted to spend it with you. You waved her in and focused on the phone call with Tony.

"Look, all I'm saying is we could partner with Odinson and Laufeyson and cut the cost of materials. It's a win-win" It was innovative thinking, and expanding both companies with New Asgard would be amazing. You watched Wanda walk, still in her uniform and a food bag. “Brunnhilde owes me a favor. She could set up the meeting," your girlfriend sat in front of your desk. You put up one finger to tell her you were almost done. She nodded and pulled out the food she brought.

"Yeah, it's a smart idea," you glanced at your calendar. The twin's birthday was marked on it, and it was coming soon. You made a mental note to order their birthday presents so they would arrive on time. "See if you can do it in a few weeks. I'm a little swamped at the moment." you chuckled.

"I've been telling you, kid. You need to delegate and hire some interns," you rolled your eyes and pulled the phone away from your ear, sending a playful glare to Wanda as the billionaire went on a tangent. It's fair. It was on your to-do list. Wanda giggled.

"Tony, I love you and hear you," you cut him off. "But my girl is here and I want to have lunch with her. Can we table this for another time?" You liked the blush that covered Wanda's cheeks. The man laughed.

"Enjoy, kid. Remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do, which isn't saying a lot," you chuckled. The billionaire was insane, but he was also a great business partner.

"Bye, Stark," you hung up before he could say anything else. "Sorry, I think the man likes to hear himself talk." You opened the sandwich she brought for you.

"It's fine," Wanda smiled. "How's your day been?" So you told her about your day; the endless amount of meetings and phone calls was taking a toll on you. She suggested taking another short vacation, just you and her. "It would have to be after the twin's birthday. You know that is coming up, right?"

"How could I forget? It's marked in my calendar." You showed her your calendar. You wrote it in red and circled it so it would stand out, and you wouldn't forget.

"I have something to ask you," you hated her tone and the way she played with the rings on her finger. "It's on behalf of the boys." It made you feel a little better.

"Baby," you reached for her hand and squeezed it. "You can ask me anything."

"The boys want to have their birthday party at their father's house," that made sense. His house was bigger; he had a yard and a pool. It was the perfect spot for a middle school birthday party. You figured this was about spending their birthday on a different day. "They want you to come to the party," you dropped her hand in shock. They wanted you to attend a party at your current girlfriend's ex-husband's house with his girlfriend. Fuck no. Hell no. "I know it's a lot, and you do not need to make a decision now. I told them it may make you uncomfortable?"

"Does Vision know they want me there?" Wanda sighed.

"He does and," you gave her a look to continue. "He was okay with it as long as you are." You blinked at her a few times, mouth opened slightly.

"Come again. That man has not liked me from day 1." You weren't looking for his approval, but you wanted things to be civil. Unfortunately, he was the twin's father. Wanda took your hand.

"I think he's starting to realize you aren't going anywhere," Damn straight. You were here to stay. "It helps that the boys like you, and we may have had our differences, but he loves them." That you knew was true. A small part of you, the younger you, was jealous that Wanda and Vision could still be parents to the twins through their divorce. Their main priority was Billy and Tommy, unlike your parents, who prioritized themselves.

"I'll think about it," if they wanted you there, then you could consider it, but God, it would be awkward. You hated awkward situations.

"Thank you," she helped you clean up and walked her to your office door. "Are you staying late?" You nodded. She brought her fingers to your temple and rubbed them. You moaned and fell into her. Her laugh made you feel lighter. "Don't stay too late, okay? You need sleep."

"I know. I'll text you when I'm done," you kissed her softly. "I love you." It was such a simple three-letter word, but it made your heart soar every time. You wondered if you said it enough.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Please take care of yourself," she said, fixing the collar of your shirt. "The boys and I need you," you said, cupping her cheeks and brushing your nose against hers.

"I need you too. Always."

*     

It was late. So stupidly late that you were annoyed with yourself that you couldn't keep your promise to Wanda. There was one thing left to do on your to-do list. All you had to do was sign the contract Pepper sent over and send it back. However, your mind was so focused on what Wanda asked you that the words blurred today. So you opened a bottle of whiskey and poured yourself a glass. Soft jazz music played from the record player that Melina got you. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Natasha opened and closed your door. "Don't you have a woman keeping your bed warm?"

"I guess I could ask you the same thing," you said, grabbing an extra glass and filling it. "Instead of a woman, it's more like two strong and muscular men," she said, taking the full glass you offered.

"Are you jealous?" you cringed. Dating and sleeping with men were not your thing. "Come on, tell Mama Nat all of your troubles and how she can help," she sat down on your couch and flopped on the spot next to her.

"You can never say that in my presence. Keep that in the bedroom," the redhead threw her head back in a laugh.

"Come on, boss, what's going on?' You joined her on the couch with the bottle and your glass."

"My mind is all over the place. With the deal with Starks, Wanda asked me something, and-" You took a sip of your drink, stopping yourself from telling her about the phone call from your father.

"What happened between you and Wanda?" You sighed.

"The twin's birthday is coming up. No, you can not get them anything," she pouted in protest. "I'm still apologizing for the Christmas mess," she shrugged. "The party is at Vision's house, and they want me to go."

"Oh," Natasha let out a slow breath. "Shit," you laughed, finished your drink, and poured yourself another one. "So, do the boys want you there or Wanda?"

"The boys asked Wanda to ask me," you simplified. The redhead nodded. She was biting the inside of her cheek and moving the liquor in her glass.

"So you go," she shrugged. Your jaw dropped. Was she serious? She knew you hated awkward situations; you avoided them like the plague. "Look, it's huge. The boys want you there. It speaks volumes that they want you there to celebrate with them. You go for them."

"You make it sound so easy," you groaned, throwing your head back.

"Because it is," she flicked you on your cheek. "The twins love you. Everyone sees it. It's no surprise they want you there. Besides, if Vision gets on your nerves, throw him in the pool," she tried to hide her smile in her glass. "He uncanny acts like a robot; it may short-circuit his motherboard or something." You laughed hard. It made your stomach begin to hurt. The red joined in, and you fell against each other. Natasha always knew how to make you feel better. You were grateful for her.

Your phone ringing caught the laughter between you and your friend. "It's probably the misuses," you fished the phone out of your pocket as Natasha picked up the two dirty glasses. It was not Wanda. Oh, how you wished it was. "Who is it?" You forgot Natasha was still in your office. She ripped the phone out of your hand when you refused to answer. That snapped you out of it. "Your fucking mother. What the fuck does that cunt want?"

"I don't know because I didn't answer it," you deadpanned. She ignored the call and threw it on the couch next to you. You caught it before it bounced off.

"How long has seen been trying to reach you?" Her green eyes turned stormy, and you felt yourself shrink under her intense stare. It was impossible to lie to her. You used to joke that she was a Russian spy in her past life.

"Not long," you mumbled. "My father called me a few days ago. It's the first time she's called me," she huffed and threw her arms up, then on her hips.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not that big of a deal," your phone beeped, and you saw she left a voicemail. "Nat, you know how they are. They call when they need money. I ignore them, and when they find the money through someone else, they stop calling. It's the same way every time."

"I'm calling Melina."

"No!" You said suddenly and stood up. She raised an eyebrow at you with her phone in her hand. "I do not need the Russian mob going after my deadbeat parents. It will blow over."

"My parents aren't in the mob," you weren't 100% sure you believed her. Alexei had tattoos that would make any criminal go running. But she placed her phone back in her pocket. "I don't like this." You knew she wouldn't. It was another reason why you didn't tell her. She was very protective over you when it came to your parents. She had to mend a lot of the broken pieces caused by them.

"I know," you stood up, walked over to her, and placed your hands on her arms. "But they can't hurt me anymore." Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her noise.

"Promise me you will not give them anything. They don't deserve it," you nodded. "And promise me, if you don't feel safe, you call Maria or Melina." You nodded again. "I need to hear you say it."

"I promise." You knew they wouldn't intentionally hurt you, but to ease her nerves, you made the promise. Natasha pulled you into a hug, and you slumped against her. You felt safe. You felt like everything was going to be okay."

*

"Now, where are you off to?" Sarah asked when you stepped out of your office.

"I'm going to surprise Wanda at work," you smiled. "Can you transfer all calls to my personal? Oh! Do you want anything? I know you like their Ruben." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and get me a slice of their cheesecake." Now that was a brilliant idea. She reached for her purse.

"If you hand me money, so help me, woman, I will slap you," she threw a piece of paper at you. Before you could retaliate, your phone rang. You stuck your tongue at her and answered it. "Hey, Wands, I was about to come see you."

"Actually," your smile dropped, and you stepped away from Sarah. "I need a favor." You hated how fast your heart started to beat. "Tommy and Billy have a half day that Vision and I forgot about. Can you pick them up? Vision will get them from you when he can."

"Of course. Jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack," she laughed. "I'll leave right now. I love you. See you tonight?" You questioned.

"Yes, and I love you too," you smiled and hung up. You faced Sarah.

"Duty calls," you gave her a salute. "I'll get you food whenever the boys want to go." Sarah laughed with a wave of her hand.

"Enjoy your time with them. We'll hold down the fort here."

Picking up the twins was always a walk in the park since your name was on the approved pickup list. The only annoying thing was the receptionist, who liked to flirt with you. You clarified that you were seeing someone, but she didn't care. The twins loved to tease you over it, much to Wanda's dismay.

You brought them to The Western Flavor for lunch. "Okay, we need to establish some rules," you said as they opened their menus. "Real food first, then desserts or your mother may break up with me." Billy laughed.

"It would take a lot for Mom to leave you."

"Yeah, I think you are stuck with us." You were more than okay with that. As you decided what to order, the twins updated you on all the school gossip. You forgot how crazy it was to be in middle school. Once the waitress brought your food, you noticed a change in their behavior. "Alright," you took a sip of your drink. "What's going on? Why are you acting weird?"

"Puberty," Tommy answered. You glared at them both. Billy rolled his eyes.

"Has Mom asked you about our birthday party?" Shit. Wanda asked you three days ago; the party was in a week.

"She did," you answered slowly.

"And?" Billy asked.

"Boys-," you sighed.

"Please, we really want you there," Tommy pleaded. "You are the only adult who will play with us in the pool." You laughed at that. He wasn't wrong. The weather was in that weird phase of not spring but winter. You looked at the weather for next week, and it was supposed to be in the mid-70s to early 80s.

"Plus, we asked Dad, and he said it was fine." Billy took a French fry from your plate. "Well, we didn't ask Tiffany, but it's not her house, so her opinion doesn't matter." Tommy nodded along with his brother. The twins' clear dislike of their father's girlfriend made you snort, which caused them to laugh at you.

"Okay, fine, I'll go," they cheered, and you couldn't help but smile at how excited they were. "However, if I find myself in one awkward encounter with him, I will use you two as my decoy."

"Aye, aye, captain," Tommy said.

"Sir, yes, sir," you rolled your eyes and threw your straw wrapper at them. They discussed everything that was going to happen at their party. You made a mental note to ask Wanda how you could help. You groaned when your phone started to ring. The boys laughed at your displeasure. Glancing at it, you saw it was your mother. They could not take a hint. You silenced the ringer and focused on figuring out what milkshake you wanted.

"Who was that?" Billy asked.

"No one important," you answered and stole a look at the twins. They were staring at each other. It reminded you of Wanda's look when she didn't believe the story the boys tried to spin. It was a little uncanny how similar the look was. "It was my mother. We don't have the best relationships?"

"Is that why you spend holidays with us instead of your mom and dad?" Billy asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Yes, before you guys, I would celebrate them with my coworkers or Natasha and Yelena." You spent a lot of Christmas and Thanksgiving at the Russian household. The last holiday you spent with your parents was when you were 11.

"Why don't you like them?" Tommy questioned.

"You don't have to answer that," Billy quickly added, glaring at his brother. You smiled. Kids were curious by nature, but it was okay. Besides, you've spoken about your relationship with your parents in therapy. It was easier.

"My parents divorced when I was around your age, but unlike your parents, they don't care about me," Billy frowned at your confession. "So they only call me when they need money or something from me."

"Parents shouldn't do that," you agreed with Billy, but sometimes, that wasn't the case. The waitress came by to collect your plates and asked if you wanted dessert. The twins wanted a milkshake, and you got a fudge sundae. She left with your order.

"Tiffany says that about mom," Tommy said. "That she is just with you for the money."

"Tommy," his brother hissed, slapping his brother under the table. So it was supposed to be a secret. You wanted to have a few words with Tiffany.

"You know that's not true, right?" They nodded.

"Trust me, we know," Billy said. "If mom were with you for the money, we wouldn't still live in our small apartment." You laughed, shaking your head.

"I don't like Tiffany," Tommy cringed, twitching his nose like Wanda when she said or tasted something she didn't like.

"Tommy!" Billy said again.

"What? Stop trying to be all high and mighty. You don't like her either," you smiled as Billy slumped in the booth.

"Your secret is safe with me," you promised.

"She's just so-" Billy groaned, unable to find the right words. "There is something about her we don't like." The waitress brought you the desserts.

"Maybe because she's dating your dad," you suggested and ate a spoonful of ice cream. It was weird; you liked the feeling of the brain freeze. Tommy shook his head.

"You are dating our mom, and we like you," he said. It was always nice to hear that. Anyway, what are you getting us for our birthday?" You laughed. You loved these boys so much.

*

"Pop a squat, boys," you told them when you entered your office after you dropped off Sarah's food. "Your dad will pick you up when he's done with work. So homework than video games."

"Awe, come on," Tommy whined. "Aren't you supposed to be the fun parent?" Parent. He called you the fun parent. It was so strange how that single word could fill you with butterflies.

"Homework while I do my job, then we can play Mario Kart," you compromised. They seemed content, and they got to work on your couch. You figured you had 45 minutes to tack your to-do list. So you followed their lead and got to work. You were 15 minutes off, and 30 minutes later, they were standing in front of your desk with their homework done. You glared at the boys and ignored the smiles on their faces.

"You promised," Billy said. Sighing, you reorganized the papers on your desk.

"Come on, boys. It's time for me to kick your butts in Mario Kart." They cheered and followed you to the conference room. You kept a few game consoles set up in there. So you set up the game and began to play.

You loved this time with the boys. When you first started dating Wanda, you were worried about the twins not liking you. They were a little standoffish, but you bonded with them over video games.

You were gifted an early copy of "Edge of Vengeance: Retribution," the second game in the franchise, by the developers. The first one was okay but not your favorite. So when you were at dinner with Wanda and the boys, you overheard the twins talking about it. You gifted it to them the next day. The smile on their face was something that would stick with you forever.

"No fair!" Tommy wined and dropped the controller onto the table. "You have to be cheating." You crossed the finish line, once again in first place.

"I'm sorry, little man, I'm just better than you," you teased and dusted off your shoulders. Billy laughed. He gave up trying to beat you a few rounds ago. You laughed as the door opened. It was Sarah.

"Their father is here," she told you. You nodded and paused the game.

"Alright. Grab your stuff," they put their controllers away without asking them.

"I almost beat you in the race before the last one," Tommy said. You stood between them as you walked to the elevator and into the lobby. "It was so unfair you used that shortcut." You smiled.

"Then you should have said we couldn't use short cuts," you said as the door closed and descended. "It's your fault." Billy laughed.

"She's got you there,"

"You are supposed to be on my side, jerk," Tommy lunged for this brother, but you grabbed his backpack and pulled him back.

"Enough," you told him. "The last thing I need is for you to break the elevator." The doors opened, and you walked out with your arms around your shoulders. "You'll get me one day, buddy; just don't give up." You found Vision as soon as you entered the lobby. Dressed in a suit and his arms crossed, he seemed a little out of place.

"Hi, Dad," Billy walked over to him and hugged him.

"Hello, boys. Did you have fun?"

"We did!" Tommy smiled. "Y/n, let us play Mario Kart." Their father looked at you.

"I made sure they did their homework first," you weren't completely useless when it came to kids.

"Thank you for picking them up. It slipped our minds."

"It's no big deal," you told him and shrugged. "I know my schedule is more flexible, so whenever you guys need me to pick them up, I can," he nodded.

"Dad, dad," Tommy pulled on Vision's arm. "She said she'll come to our birthday party."

"If that's okay," you added on quickly. "I don't want to intrude." The man must have given himself whiplash on how fast he looked at you and his son.

"You won't be," he said, even though his voice sounded strained. "You are always welcome." Your jaw almost dropped. What was happening right now? "Come on, boys. Let's get out of her hair. You can be quite a handful," he teased and ruffled their hair. The boys said goodbye, and you waved after them, unable to find any words after that bizarre encounter with your girlfriend's ex-husband.

"Are you okay, boss?" Bucky asked, walking over to you from his post.

"I think I need a drink after that," the veteran laughed.

"You are so dramatic," he said. You stuck your tongue at him and walked back to the elevator. After a few more hours of work, you will be home with Wanda. 

*  

"Smells good," you smiled over your shoulder as Wanda entered the kitchen after her shower. Once Wanda's shift ended, you met her at the diner and drove you back to your house. While she showered away the day, you started on dinner. "Do you need help?" You shook your head.

"If you want to pick a wine to go with this, go right ahead," you had a pretty impressive wine collection and knew Wanda loved pairing a bottle with whatever dish. When she quit the diner, you would push her to culinary school. Once you placed the food, you carried the plates to the table, and Wanda brought the wine. She thanked you for cooking with a kiss. You spoke about nothing and everything. She caught you up on the latest drama at the diner and you gave her updates on work. Most of the time, you ate in a comfortable silence. It was one of your favorite things. There was no need to talk and fill the silence.

"So," you sipped on the wine. "I talked to the twins about their party." She nodded slowly and poured more wine from the bottle into her glass. "I will be going," you watched the relief wash over her. "If you wanted me to go so bad, you should have said so," you chuckled.

"I didn't want to put you in a situation you weren't comfortable in. I can deal with Vision. I don't like Tiffany," her nose scrunched in disgust. You laughed. Mother like son.

"What do you need help with?"

"Nothing," you glared at her. "I'm serious," she laughed. "Vision hired a catering service so I don't have to cook, and he rented extra chairs and tables from a party company. I may decorate the backyard, but everything is taken care of," your eyebrows went to your hairline. "I was shocked too, but all you have to do is show up," she stood up and picked up the dirty plates. "And look hot while you swim." You laughed and joined her in the kitchen. She was rinsing the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. You wrapped your arms around her waist.

"Are you ready for all the horny moms to eye fuck me the entire time?" Your girlfriend tensed up. You chuckled and pushed her hair out of the way to attack her neck with your lips. "Don't worry, baby. I only have eyes for you," you moved your hand underneath her shirt and felt goosebumps that appeared on her skin. "So sensitive," you teased. She dropped the plate in the sink and spun around quickly. Her lips attached to yours.

"You are mind," she mumbled against your lips. You picked her up with your hands underneath her things. The dishes could wait a little longer.

*

"When are you going to be home? I miss you." You chuckled. "What? Can I not miss my girlfriend leaving me alone in a cold bed."

"That bed is not cold because you like the house at 79 degrees," your girlfriend huffed. "Not even an even number when you know I hate odds," the woman had the audacity to laugh at you. "I miss you too, by the way. You know I'd rather be there with you than here."

"I know," she sighed. "How much longer are you going to be?" You looked at the stack of mail on your desk Sarah brought in before she left.

"30 minutes, an hour tops," you answered and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I have a headache," you whined.

"Drink some water and wear your glasses," you groaned. "I'll try to stay up and wait for you."

"Don't worry about it, baby," you leaned back in your chair. You need your sleep. I'll try not to wake you when I get home." Wanda was pulling a double shift tomorrow, and the ring on your desk seemed to tease you.

"I love you, sweetheart," you smiled at Wanda's sleepy voice.

"I love you too, baby," you said as you hung up and picked up the jewelry box. You were so busy. Thor and Loki agreed to work with you and Stark Industries, so that meant more paperwork, deadlines, and headaches for you. You wanted to get as much done before the birthday party as possible before the short weekend getaway you and Wanda planned.

You didn't have enough brainpower to plan a proposal. You wanted to involve the boys, but that's all you had figured out.

Sighing, you put the box down and picked up the stack of mail. A lot of it was junk, a few letters from organizations thanking you for your donations and a magazine subscription you don't remember signing up for. However, an envelope caught your attention. There was no return address and no postage mark as if someone had just dropped the letter off. Carefully, you opened it up and pulled out the letter.

Your stomach dropped immediately. The letter was created by cutting out maginze letters and gluing them together. It was something you saw out of an actual crime show. It read: 'Pay us what you owe, or they will get it.' A snake wrapped around your heart. It was difficult for you to breathe. You ran your hands over your face. As your hands shook, you picked up your phone and called an old friend.

"Why do I smell trouble?" Maria answered on the second ring. "Do I need to bail you and Natasha out of jail again?" You could have laughed if bile wasn't forming in your throat.

"Maria, I need you to come to my office," you said. "It's an emergency." Could she hear the shake in your voice? Fuck, your heart was pounding against your ribs. You were going to have a panic attack. "Ria, I need you."

"Shit," you heard movement on her side. "I'll be right there. Do I need to stay on the phone with you?"

"No," you said. "I'll be fine. Just hurry, please."

"I'll be right there. Do your breathing exercises for me, okay? You're no use to me if you pass out," she managed to make you chuckle.

"Thanks, Ria. I'll see you soon," she hung up. You stood up and walked away from your desk. You needed to get away from that letter. So you paced—5 steps one way, turn around 5 steps the other way, and repeat and repeat. It helped lessen the tension in your chest, and you began to breathe normally. It was going to be okay. You kept repeating that mantra in your head.

* 

You opened the door before Maria could knock. "I heard you," you answered your unasked question.

"If you didn't sound so flustered on the phone, I'd joke about how creepy that is," she got you to smile. "Alright, what is it?" You waved her over to your desk and pointed to the letter. She put gloves on and picked it up. She read it over a few times. "Has anyone else touched this?" You shook your head.

"I was the only one to touch the letter, but Sarah may have touched the envelope." She nodded and placed the letter in an evidence bag.

"Okay, your fingerprints should still be in the system, so we can cross-reference yours on the letter," you rolled your eyes.

"You get arrested once, and it's all anybody talks about." The agent smirked.

"If I remember correctly, it was four times, and Fury was the first one to arrest you." You smiled and sat down on the couch.

"How's the big man? Still causing you headaches." Maria sat beside you, throwing her feet on the small table.

"Always. He misses you. Had to handcuff him to his chair when I told him you called and needed something." Now, that would have been a sight. You missed the man, too. There was a part of your childhood where you rebelled; not even Natasha's family could ring you in. It was a desperate attempt to get your parent's attention. Instead of getting their attention, you got the attention of Nick Fury. The man arrested you for breaking into an abandoned building and vandalism. You liked tagging buildings when you were younger. Since it was your first offense, you were sentenced to community service, which Fury oversaw.

He saw something in you that not a lot of people did. A young girl who was looking for someone to believe in. So when his agents brought you in three more times, he kept it off your record and became a mentor to you. If it wasn't for him and Natasha's family, you would not be the CEO of your own company. You owed them a lot.

"So, who do you owe money to?" You gasped at the accusation. "Look, you know I have to ask and look at every angel." You knew that but still it hurt.

"I don't own anybody anything," your headache was coming back full force.

"When was the last time you spoke to your parents?" You sighed, crossing your arms.

"3 years ago, almost 4. It was about the boat incident on Oneida." Maria nodded. "They've been calling me the past week, but I've ignored them."

"I will get a judge to sign off on your phone records and security camera. Hopefully, we can catch who dropped this off," she placed her hand on the back of your neck and squeezed it. "We'll figure out who did this," she promised. "It could also be a competitor. The deal you made with Stark has made headline news. Do you want me to assign agents to Wanda and the boys?" You shook your head.

"I don't want to worry them. I'll," you sighed and rubbed your hands across your face. I'll talk to them about it." She nodded, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Maria was similar to you. Her home life was not ideal, and it seemed Fury had the tendency to adopt strays and keep them underneath his wing. Unfortunately, she had to bail you and Natasha out of trouble every once in a while.

"How long have you been here?" She softly asked. You closed your eyes.

"I got in around 9," you answered. It would have been earlier, but Wanda held you hostage in bed, and it was very hard to say no to sleepy Wanda.

"You realize it's 11:30, right?" you groaned and nodded. "Go home, bean," she said. "Go home to Wanda and the boys. We'll take care of everything." You believed her. She was the deputy director and the leader of an impressive team. You trusted her with your life.

*    

When you closed the door to your house, you felt the weight on your shoulders leave. It felt easier to breathe. You threw your bag on the couch, took off your shoes, and made sure to set the house alarm. Walking to your room, you checked on the boys, who were fast asleep. Good. You kept walking and found Wanda fast asleep. Her hair framed around her head. The blankets were pulled up to her chin. The sight made you smile, and you stripped out of your clothes and climbed into bed beside her. Usually, you would shower and change into pajamas, but you wanted to be in the safety of your shared bed.

Trying to avoid waking her, you pulled back the covers and laid yourself next to Wanda. Your head in the crock of her neck, inhaling her sent. She smelt of lavender and soothed your throbbing headache. On instinct, she wrapped her arms around you. Most nights you held her, you loved the feeling of her in your arms. Sometimes you needed to be held. "My baby," she mumbled, still clearly asleep. You smiled and kissed her shoulder.

"Yours, my love," you whispered. "Yours now and forever." You weren't going to let anyone hurt your family.

*  

Oh, you were going to throw up. You desperately wanted to arrive with Wanda, but a video call with Tony, Shuri, and Thor was scheduled, and you could not reschedule it. The party officially started in two hours, but you wanted to show up early and help. Pumping yourself up, you knocked on the door with your free hand. The presents for the twins were in one hand, and your swimsuit, change of clothes, and a bottle of wine were in your backpack. The door opened. "Y/n," Vision said. Was he smiling at you?

"Vision," you forced a smile of your own.

"You're here!" You heard the thundering footsteps of the twins racing towards you.

"I'll take these," he took the presents right before Billy and Tommy threw themselves at you. "They've been on a sugar rush all morning." The man looked fondly at his sons, who were crushing you. Damn, where are they always this strong? They may break a rib. "Alright, boys," Vision chuckled. "Let her breathe." What the fuck was happening? Did you walk into a different timeline? Billy let go of you first, but Tommy kept hugging you.

"Happy birthday, boys," you ruffled Tommy's hair. "Are you excited for the party?"

"Yes!" Tommy said. "Let's go swimming." He grabbed onto your hand and began to drag you to the pool.

"Tommy," the boy froze at his father's tone. "You promised to help Tiffany in the kitchen. Go help her with your brother, then you can go in the pool." Tommy groaned and headed towards the kitchen, dragging his feet behind him. Billy rolled his eyes and followed his brother. Vision sighed. "They may send me to an early grave," There was a smile on his face.

"Oh, I can take these back," you reached for the presents, but he shook his head.

"I can take these to the table. Wanda is outside," you stared at the man as he left you in the entryway. You shook your head and walked over to the back door. Vision was right. Wanda was putting together a banner. Her back was to you. Quietly, you opened the door and walked over to her. She jumped when you wrapped your arms around her waist. The smell of her perfume helped you relax. Soon she relaxed in your arms.

"Hi baby," you whispered and kissed her cheek.

"How was the meeting?" She asked as she worked on the banner. You sighed.

"It was okay," you threw your bag in a chair and began to help her. "I think Thor has more energy than Tony." Wanda chuckled. You continued to place the letters together to spell 'Happy Birthday' in silence. Until a question was burning on your lips. You glanced at the house. "Is Vision okay?" You asked slowly. "He's acting strange, like Tommy hit him in the back of the head with a football." A smile slowly crept onto Wanda's face.

"No," she laughed. "He's been in a good mood since I got here," she shrugged. "I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth." You narrowed your eyes at the house. Something strange was happening here.

You hated to admit how much fun the party was. You spent a lot of your time being dragged around by the twins and involved in whatever game they wanted to play. They somehow convinced their father to play a game of chicken with you in the pool. You learned that the man would do anything to make his boys smile. It was annoyingly adorable.

The only issue you had was Tiffany. She cornered you in the kitchen when you made another pitcher of lemonade. Well, corned was a strong word, but she was interrogating you about your work and family.

Besides that, you enjoyed spending time with Wanda and meeting the parents of the twins' friends. It felt like you were part of the family. You sang Happy Birthday, ate cake, watched them open presents, and cuddled with Wanda while you watched Tommy and Billy run around with their friends.

Once the party was over and the last guest left, you grabbed a trash can and began picking up the backyard. It wasn't long till Vision joined. You held open the bag for him as he picked up bottles that missed the trash can. "You made their day by coming," he said, breaking the silence. I think they'll be talking about it all year." You stared at him, eyes squinting. Did I say something?"

"Vision, what the fuck is going on?" He seemed startled by your sudden outburst. "This is the most you've spoken to me since Wanda and I started dating." The man sighed. He walked over to the cooler and opened it. Returning to you, he handed you a beer. You watched him open it and offer you the bottle. You hit yours against his and opened it. You've never seen this man drink before. You really were in a weird timeline.

"I did not like you when you first started dating Wanda," you chuckled. Everyone with eyes knew that. "It was mostly my fault our marriage fell apart. I became complacent and did not realize what I had, and then she was gone." You frowned. Vision took another sip from the bottle. "And Billy and Tommy loved you. On my weekends, they would not stop talking about you." You understand now.

"I'm not here to steal your family, Vision," the man sighed.

"Well, I know that now," he said. "Billy helped me realize how unfair I was treating you. You always thought that boy was wise beyond his years. "So I am sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me." You weren't one to hold grudges, especially when the person was open and vulnerable with you.

"Water under the bridge, Vis," you said. "But thank you for being honest with me." He smiled and began to take down the remaining tables. Since it was a day full of confessions, you had one of your own. You took a sip of your beer. "I have a hypothetical question," he glanced at you while he laid the table on the grass. "How difficult is getting an Order of Protection in New York?" The man froze. "Hypothetically," you said again. Vision was a lawyer and part of the team for the district attorney. If anyone knew the process, it would be him.

"Am I that bad?" He joked. You rolled your eyes and mumbled, 'Jackass.' He chuckled and sipped his beer. "Hypothetically speaking, it can be filed in a criminal case or family court. Would this hypothetical order of protection be against a family member?" You crossed your arms.

"Hypothetically, yes," he sighed, watching his eyes look you up and down.

"Then hypothetically, you would need to file a petition that tells the judge and respondent what you would want," you nodded and took a step forward. "This hypothetical order of protection," you rolled your eyes. "Are Wanda and my sons in danger?"

"No," he gave you a look that he wasn't convinced. "No," you repeated. "Nothing will happen to them. I promise."

"Have you spoken to Wanda about this hypothetical order of protection?" You looked at the house and saw Wanda trying to get the twins to help clean up and put their toys away. She caught you staring, and she waved, but you saw the question in her gaze; 'Are you okay?' You nodded and waved back.

"I have not," he hummed.

"A little advice," you looked back at the man. "Tell her. She hates being lied to. She rather know the truth no matter how bad it is," you knew that. Sighing, you rang your hand through your hair. You felt his hand on your shoulder. "You are good for her."

"Thanks, Vis," you smiled. He nodded and began the original task of cleaning up. You finished your beer and threw the empty bottle in the trash. You placed your hands on your hips and looked around the backyard. Today was good. You hated to ruin it with your family bullshit.

*

"I am tired," Wanda slumped on the couch, not bothering to take off her shoes. You smiled, dropped your bag, and toed off your sneakers. Sitting by her feet, you unclipped her heels and dropped them to the floor. You massaged her calves and thighs. She groaned and flipped onto her back, letting her hair down from the ponytail braid.

"You did good, mama," you whispered. "A successful party if I say so." Wanda climbed onto your lap, her hands behind your head, playing with the hair. It was relaxing, and you felt your eyes closed.

"What were you and Vision talking about?" Your eyes snapped open, and you cringed.

"Can you not say your ex-husband's name while on my lap and the less-than-PG thoughts running through my head?" She laughed and rested her head in the crook of your neck. You ran her hand down her back, and she slumped against you. "I wanted some legal advice regarding my parents." The mention of your parents caused your girlfriend to tense up. She leaned back to look at you.

"Why ask Vision and not your lawyer?" Well, your lawyer was Melina, and you did not want to tell her what was happening. For the company, it was Carol. You learned very early on that mixing business and personal was messy.

"Because I was just looking for advice," she narrowed her eyes at you. "They've been calling me a lot."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You hated her tone. It made you feel like you were in trouble. You winced.

"They do this all the time when they want money," you said, feeling major deja vu when you were having a similar conversation with Natasha. You laid her down on the couch and hovered above her. "And I didn't want to worry you," Wanda sighed.

"What do you tell me all the time?" It was your turn to sigh.

"We are a team," you mumbled, kissed her cheek, and rested your forehead against hers. "I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Her eyes filled with worry and concern. You nodded. It was the truth. You were okay. "Is there anything else?"

"No," you said right away. The lie felt bitter on your tongue. She put her arms around your back and pulled you closer. When she first did this, you worried you would crush her. But she loved having you close. It was a physical reminder that you were hers, and she was yours. You kissed her shoulder. This was perfect. The little bubble of peace you both created was everything to you. You wouldn't change it for the world.

*    

"Wanda," she looked up from her notepad while she took her table's order. It was her manager, while another server was walking over to her. "It's your son's school," Wanda's heart plummeted. She apologized to her table and walked to her manager's office.

"Hello," she said once she was alone.

"Hi Wanda, it's Amanda." Oh, Wanda knew who she was. It was the receptionist who kept flirting with you. "Billy and Tommy haven't gotten picked up yet. We tried calling Vision, but it went right to voice mail."

"They are still at school," Wanda said slowly as if Amanda spoke a foreign language.

"Yes, ma'am. They are in the office, perfectly safe. Will you be in to pick them up, or will you send in someone else?" Wanda didn't miss her flirtatious tone but she was so stuck on the fact her sons weren't picked up from school on the day you said you would do it.

"I'll be right there," she told her and hung up before Amanda could respond. What was going on?

*   

When she frantically walked into the building, Wanda knew her boys were behind her. Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow but buzzed her through. It was rather comical when she ran right into Natasha. The collision caused the redhead to drop all her papers. "Wands, where is the fire?" She chuckled. "Isn't this how you fell in love with the boss? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm spoken for." The memory always brought a smile to her face, but it tugged at her heart. Wanda and the boys helped pick up the papers. "Wait, I thought it was Y/n's day to pick up the little gremlins." She winked at the boys.

"It was, and clearly she didn't," Wanda handed her the papers she had picked up. So where is she?" Wanda hoped you forgot—that you got dragged into another meeting. Natasha's green eyes said something different. Her green eyes flickered to the trio in front of her and then to Bucky, who joined the group.

"She left about 45 minutes ago," she looked at Bucky, who nodded to confirm her story.

"Her phone is going right to voicemail," Billy added. Wanda watched your best friend's eyes turn stormy.

"Nat, what's wrong?" Natasha let out a shaky breath.

"Why don't we take the boys to the conference room?" she smiled. "I think the switch is still hooked up." The twins cheered and walked towards the conference room, leading the way. Natasha pulled out her phone and began to follow her sons, but Wanda stopped her.

"Who are you calling?" She glanced at the twins, who Bucky was now following.

"Maria Hill. She's-"

"An agent over at SHIELD," you spent one drunken night recanting all your stories with the agent and the red head. At the time it was funny but hearing Natasha say the agent's name made Wanda realize something terrible was happening. "Nat, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she put the phone to her ear. "But Maria will be our best bet." Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?

* 

It was the pain radiating from your neck and the side of your head that woke you up. Black dots covered your Vision, and you blinked a few times for them to disappear. You were bound to the chair in a room you didn't recognize. You yanked at the restraints, but they weren't moving. "I'd save your strength," the voice came from the corner of the room. You knew that voice.

"Tiffany," your throat was so dry. "What the fuck?" Vision's girlfriend walked out of the corner. She looked different from the party. Her hair was pinned up in a bun. No hair seemed to be out of place. Instead of her dress at the party, she wore black slacks and a red body suit. You remembered her face was dolled up with makeup, not bare. She gripped your chin and forced your head back. You winced. "What are you doing?" You hated how much your voice shook.

"How good is your Greek mythology?" Was she speaking with an accent? It felt like there was cotton in your eyes. "What is the mythological creature that is a serpent with nine heads?" You racked your brain for the answer. "Come on, sweetheart. Do you need another hint?" You tried to swallow, but you couldn't. Fuck, you needed water. "If you cut the head off two more, grow it back." It clicked. Tiffany smiled. "Say it."

"H-HYDRA," you whispered.

"Say it louder," she demanded, nails dug into your skin.

"HYDRA," you said. She dropped her hand, and your head fell forward. "What do you want with me?" You kept your head down.

"In due time, darling. Rest. The real fun will begin soon."

-

Don't worry Part 3 will be out next week :D

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff one shot #marvel oneshot #marvel au

[dilfl0v3rss]

Basketball player ony x cheerleader reader?

coming right up boooo🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

tonight was game night, but not only for your boyfriend. as a cheerleader games were just at important to you as they were to ony. “mama you seen my socks?” he yelled from the living room as he dug in his bag for the third time looking for these damn socks. though it was nine in the morning and the game was at 8 in the afternoon, you and ony both had prep to be at by eleven. usually the two of you would still be in bed at this time on a saturday regardless of the game, but due to your recent activities last night neither of you prepared anything for the morning.

“in the dryer baby. they might be a little damp cause i just put em in ten minutes ago.” you yelled from the bathroom. words muffled as you leaned over the sink with your toothbrush still in your mouth. “shit” he mumbled as he ran towards the dryer. still in just his boxers and durag as he opened the still running dryer to feel for any water still in his socks. “shit!!” you had just finished brushing your teeth. pink scarf wrapped around your ponytail as you ran towards your bag to double check your uniform.

“papa you seen my bow? s’not in my bag!” you walked towards the door to find your boyfriend when you were met with his hard chest. face in a pout at he held pink socks in his hand. “babyyyy loookk” he whined as he showed you his usually white compression shirt that was now pink as well. “shit!!” you yelled. “what we gon dooo?” you sucked your teeth before running to your dresser. pulling out a pair of fresh socks. “cant do nun about the shirt so you gon have to play with just the jersey on, but you can wear these and i’ll get you some more tomorrow.”

ony quickly kissed your cheek before pointing towards his bedside drawer. “ian know where to put it so i just put it in my drawer” you gave him a quiet ‘okay’ before quickly walking to his side of the bed, pulling the bow out of his drawer before putting it in your bag. you took a deep breath before you looked up at your still half naked boyfriend leaving the room. “ony?” he walked back in the room with his bag on his shoulder. “hmm?” “where your clothes at?”

panic began to set in his mind as he thought of the last place he seen his team sweatsuit. eyes glued on the ceiling as he was deep in thought. “aww hell nah. baby where is it? you literally can’t leave without it on.” ony lifted his hand, cutting you off. “i know mama, i know. i’ll find it. you got yours?” you immediately closed your mouth. where did you leave that sweatsuit? “see?! look at you in my business and you don’t even know where your shit at.”

now it was your turn to wave your hand to cut him off before you walked out of the room in search of your cheerleading warmup. you ended up finding them both folded up on the dryer. at least you got one thing done last night. you gave ony his clothes and the both of you got dressed. before you got in the car the two of you made sure to double and triple check your bags before leaving your apartment.

“what you getting for breakfast?” ony mumbled as he made his journey to the starbucks that was just two minutes away from campus. “whatever i get we gon have to share cause we don’t got time to wait for two orders.” he nodded in agreement as he parallel parked right in front of the store. before you left the car you felt a light tug on your arm. “none of that healthy shit mama. i’m a big boy i want sum wit meat in it.” you rolled your eyes as you pulled his arm off of yours.

“you gon eat what i bring lil boy.” ony sucked his teeth before watching you walk into the starbucks. you ended up coming back with a bagel with avocado spread, which your boyfriend wasn’t happy about, but he didn’t have the time to argue with you so he sucked it up and ate his half as he drove the two of you back to campus. you were making good time since it was just hitting 10:15 when you got there. as the two of you approached the locker rooms you gave ony a kiss.

his large hands gripped your ass as he slid his tongue in your mouth. deepening the kiss to the point where you felt like if you didn’t stop him soon the both of you would end up in the locker room getting each other in trouble. “nuh uhh papa save it for after you win.” his lips curved into a smirk as he slid his hand off your ass, putting his finger under your chin so he can look in your eyes. “make sure you give daddy a show during halftime aight? ion get to watch the whole thing, but for the little part i do watch make it real sexy f’me”

you roll your eyes as you nod at his request, giving him another quick kiss. “i love you mama” he pulled you into a tight hug, breathing in your scent as much as he can before he’s separated from you for the rest of the day. “i love you more baby. good luckkk!!” as you released each other you gave your boyfriend two more quick pecks before he put his hand on the doorknob to his locker room.

“ion need luck when i got you”

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot #onyankopon x black!reader #aot smut #basketball player!ony

[luveline]

could you please write an early!roan fic where maybe she thinks Y/N is actually just coming around to spend time with her and then she finds out that it’s actually cause of her eddie, and gets all grumpy like “i thought you loved me” and Y/N comforts her “i do love you, but i also love your dad!”

thank u for requesting!! eddie and roan 1k, fem

There's a distinct smell of burned toast coming from the trailer. You trust Eddie but you rush up the steps anyhow, alarmed to find him coughing in the kitchen, window thrown open. 

"Will you take her?" he asks you immediately. 

You spy Roan sitting at the kitchen table and swap her for your bag of groceries. She gasps and giggles at your sudden appearance, quick to wrap her arms around your neck when you offer your embrace. You walk her to the open door and stand there sucking in clean breaths as Eddie fans a dish towel around under the smoke alarm. "What's dad burning?" you ask. 

"Um. Bagels?" 

You rub her shoulder. "Hey, I missed you, huh? It's been a long time since I saw you." 

"I missed you too!" Roan says quickly, eager, wrapping her arms tighter around your neck to squish your cheeks together. 

You smile into her hug. You and Eddie have been busy once again, and when you did manage to steal a date night, Ro was at Wayne's. You really have missed the little girl and you intend to show it, stroking your fingers through her hair gently. She dissolves like always. 

"Shit," Eddie says, throwing two blackened bagels into the sink and running the water. "Shit, fuck. I'm sorry, girls, I don't know where my head's at." 

"Cream cheese can't fix that." 

"It's okay, dad," Roan says. "We can get burgers." 

"I can't always feed you burgers, babe, it's not good for you." Eddie rubs his hair out of his face. "And Y/N just got here from work, she doesn't wanna go out again." You're dying to flop on their couch, but if she wants a burger for dinner, who are you to stop her? Still, Eddie puts his foot down. "No, bub. I'll make some more bagels. It'll be yummy. We have salami and everything." 

"Uh," she whines, laying back in your arms. You nearly drop her. You laugh at her dramatics as she slowly drags herself back up, her eyes practically sparkling with an idea. "Me and you can go get burgers," she whispers. 

"I really am tired. Let's get burgers on the weekend, maybe." You don't like letting her down but you have to be a united front with Eddie. Usurping his authority helps no one, especially when she wants something she isn't going to get today. "And I'd miss dad." 

"Who cares about dad?" she says. 

You laugh. "I do! He's my boyfriend." 

"He's your what?" 

Eddie looks up from where he's cleaning. The burned bagels have been disposed of, the kitchen sink washed out and the toaster cleared of scorched crumbs. "You knew that, Ro." He sounds puzzled. 

"He's my prince," you say. "You know? The prince to my princess Polly." 

"What?" Roan stares at you with an extremely amusing expression, her eyebrows tugged in betrayal. 

"Sweetheart, you know me and daddy are together, don't you?" you ask, hosting her higher on your hip. "That's why we go on dates and stuff. And why he brings me flowers, why we had that anniversary dinner, remember, with the melted chocolate?" 

"I thought you loved me." 

"I love you so much," you say, looking to Eddie for assistance. He seems as lost as you feel. "Like, so much. But I love dad too. He's hard not to love, isn't he? He's handsome and funny, and he makes great grilled cheese–" 

Roan does not look happy. She pushes at your chest to be put down and sprints out of the kitchen to her bedroom, where you hear a clattering of things being pushed over and a whine filled to the brim with attitude. 

"Should I…" 

Eddie shakes his head. "In a minute. Let her be angry for a bit. This is her first heartbreak." 

You meander into him and pinch his waist. "Don't say that to me, that's awful. Poor baby, did she really not know we were dating?" 

"Of course she knows. She just forgets, 'cos she loves you and she thinks you're best friends" He wraps an arm over your shoulders. "Wow. I wonder if she thinks of me as the third wheel when we hang out." 

You take the bread knife out of his hand. "Don't bother with that. We're getting burgers." 

Eddie's laugh is more of a girly, cute giggle, like he's just had a shot. You elbow him in the stomach until he cuts it out, and beg forgiveness for being grouchy with a hug. You press your face into his neck and huff. "I missed you before you got me in trouble," you mumble. 

"Nuh-uh, that had nothing to do with me." He kisses your temple. "She loves you. It's nice. It's… You're awesome. It's great that she thinks you love her more than you love me, even if she's wrong." 

"I do love her more than I love you." 

"Are you trying to piss us both off? You can go get burgers by yourself." 

Roan is face down in her bed when you knock on her door a couple of minutes later, completely still. You pick up the plushies she's flung off her bed and sit them up in pride of place against the wall. "Princess, you know I love you," you say. "Don't you?" 

"Yeah." 

"But you know I love daddy too?" 

"Ugh." She shakes her head in disgust. 

"Ugh," you say agreeably. "You're my favourite, though." 

She turns very slightly to peek at you. "I am?" 

"Obviously. That's why I just told dad we were going for burgers whether he wanted to or not." You tickle her side until she laughs and turns on her back to escape you. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, I wasn't trying to. We're still friends, right?" 

"We're best friends." 

"That's what daddy said." You scoop her up into your side for a squish. "We're best friends forever," you whisper. 

She leans up to rub her nose against yours. 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[holylulusworld]

Big grumpy bear (1)

Summary: He’s grumpy. You are sweet. A match made in heaven.

Pairing: Alpha!Walter Marshall x OmegaReader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, grumpy alpha, scenting, fluff

Big grumpy bear masterlist

“Here’s your coffee, and I got you bagels and cookies too,” you smile sweetly at the new detective. “I thought you were hungry after interrogating the suspect for so long.”

“What?” Walter furrows his brows. He was engrossed in reading the pathology report again. “I didn’t ask you to bring me cookies.”

Your smile never falters. Walter is a big grumpy alpha, but you are not going to let him starve only because he’s too proud to accept your help and the food you got him.

“Your blood sugar is too low,” you tut and place the coffee on his desk. Walter knits his brows together. He huffs and grabs the coffee. “Let me unpack the bagels and cookies for you.”

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” He questions while surveilling your every move. Walter shakes his head as you get a pink Hello Kitty plate out of your bag. “Why are you carrying plates in your bag?”

Walter grunts as his colleagues stop working and start watching you hover over him like a mother hen.

“For emergencies,” you shrug and continue. You place the plate in front of him. You open a food container and place two bagels, an apple, and a few cookies on his plate. “Eat up. You’ll need the energy for the interrogation. If you need more, just holler.”

“Do you want to brush my hair and change my sheets too?” He cocks his head to look you up and down before grabbing one of the bagels and taking a huge bite. Walter hums as the bagel is the best he ever had. “Not bad. Where did you buy it?”

“Uh-it’s homemade. Do you like it? It’s smoked salmon, cream cheese, and dill.” You grin as Walter wolfs down the first bagel. He munches loudly but acts as if he doesn’t enjoy your food. “I got more if you are still hungry. You’re a tall alpha and need enough food.”

“Enough…what?” He rolls his eyes. You hum and close the food container to carry it toward your office. “What are you up to?”

“I’m only taking care of you. You don’t take good care of yourself. So, I’ll do it for you,” you smile and pat his shoulder. “I’m at my office, to analyze the video surveillance.”

“Fuck,” Walter curses as you grab the food container to walk toward your office. “What has gotten into her?” He watches you close the door behind you. “She’s always so cheerful and annoyingly sweet.”

“Morning,” you chirp as Walter walks inside your office without knocking. He looks at your desk, rolling his eyes at all the nick-nacks you placed on your desk. “What can I do for you detective?”

“I-uh,” he glances at your pink mouse and keyboard. “I need you to check on the witness evidence for me. Here’s the paperwork.” Walter hands you the papers but doesn’t leave as usual. He takes his time to walk around your office and sniffs in all directions.

“You can have a seat if you want to,” You dip your head to watch him inhale deeply, he purrs and turns back around to look at you. “Or do you want a cookie or snack? I always got something in my secret dash.”

He sighs deeply as he plops down onto your desk, making the wood creek under his weight. “You have been courting me for weeks, didn’t you?”

Walter looks at you, fighting the smile wanting to creep onto his face as you nod slowly.

“I was worried about your eating habits at first, but then…” You trail off. “You looked so lost, and I knew you needed someone to take care of you.”

You get up from your swivel chair to pat his cheek. Walter huffs but allows you to stand between his legs. “Go ahead, tell me how you got the idea that I’m lost and in need of an omega taking care of me.”

You touch his chest, index finger pointing at the hole in his sweater.

“We should start with your sleeping habits, and then I’ll help you eat healthier. Oh, and no more running around in torn clothes. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He smirks as you run your hand over his chest. “Fine, under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You let me take care of you from now on too,” he cups your face with his large hands. “In any way…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #Big grumpy bear #alpha!Walter Marshall x Omega!Reader #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐤

Fairy Tales and stories always had one ending, that the prince would find his princess and all would be well; a masterful, happily ever after. You had never believed that would be you, not in your wildest dreams. Until the day that two knights in inked armour walked through the door of your castle and made themselves at home in your heart.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 6.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, light show of dom/sub

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𖠺 I sincerely blame my hype squad for this, but a very special thank you to SC for her genius mind for helping me build this world, and to @sebstanwhore for putting up with my screaming about it constantly. 𖠺 This is officially my longest published fic as of September 2023!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 𖠺 So This Is Love by Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas 𖠺 I See The Light by Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 𖠺 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗚𝟰 — Tattoo Shop AU (September Adoptable) — Masterlist 𖠺 @allcapsbingo 𝗕𝟰 — Old Married Couple — Masterlist 𖠺 @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗕𝟭 — Florist AU — Masterlist 𖠺 @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟱 — Poly Relationship Negotiation — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sunlight streamed through the window as you stood behind the shop counter. It was a bright, clear day, and the possibilities that a new day could bring excited you. 

The perfume of freshly bloomed buds and bouquets filled your senses, each petal of the flowers that surrounded you just as pretty as the last. Walking into the place you built from the ground up since botany had run in your blood for generations. The love for floristry, specifically, had been passed down from your mother, then her mother before her, and her mother before her. 

As a child, with their guidance, you grew up with such kindness and compassion for all flora and fauna, and you were an avid daydreamer. 

Your daydreams of fairy tales, of wonder and love through the petals and veins of the ages, was how you came to affectionately name your haven and shop Fantasy Floristry. 

Lanterns softly lit the way between the rows of bouquets and arrangements in the shadier corners of your store, and the walls, which were devoid of shelves with bouquets, were covered with pencil drawings of fantasy creatures and characters from many Disney movies – all signed by a local artist. That of which, was you. 

It was a slow morning, customers sparse and fairly few between. Which, in itself, was never unusual, and afforded you the opportunity to potter about. Each bud you passed had a loving caress and gentle touch before they were spritzed with a soft spray of water, and you hummed along to the music playing over the speakers, a classic, timeless Disney tune.

You smiled as you looked upon the shelves fit to burst with blooms – each bunch set to a theme of a movie. Red and yellow matched with a brown ribbon for Simba and his mane, black and white with a red ribbon for Patch and his collar, and your most popular theme, one for Rapunzel; purple and yellow, with a gold ribbon to tie it in. 

The chime of the doorbell sounded at the front of the store, and you looked up just in time to see your best friend and employee walk in, steaming to-go cups in hand. “Late again,” you scolded, and she smiled sheepishly. 

“I brought us coffees to make up for it, darling,” Wanda simpered, holding out one of the coffees and a small brown bag. “And I bought you a bagel. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

You rolled your eyes and took the coffee. “Thanks, Wands.”

“I’ll be out back,” Wanda called as she strode to the cool room. “See you later!” 

Things progressed as usual after that – customers came and went with bright smiles as they left with small or big bouquets. 

You were behind the counter working away on the store’s social media when the bell chimed loudly, followed by two sets of heavy footfalls and low voices. “She’s off with Ma, you know that, punk,” one of them said, almost as though they were exasperated. “It’ll be nice for them to come back to something, don’t you think?”

“Alright, alright,” the other voice replied placatingly. The door closed behind the newcomers with another chime, and their boots thumped quietly over the tiled floor. “Which do you think- Oh, wow. They’re beautiful.”

You looked up from your phone just in time to see two men approaching, only they had stopped at the Rapunzel and Simba bouquets, the blond one of the two pointing at the purple roses and yellow lilies. His other hand… was holding the other’s – interlocked so their tattoos aligned, and a wedding band shone brightly on his ring finger. 

They were beautiful – far more so than any bouquet you could imagine or conjure. The blond was broad and lithe, his long hair swept back and beard neatly trimmed. A black plaid shirt covered his frame, and the top two buttons were undone, revealing coloured ink creeping up his collarbones. A bright, intricate yellow sunflower was tattooed along the contours of his neck, from the back to the front of the pale skin.

It seemed to match the other man’s, who, in place of a sunflower, had a bunch of purple daisies arranged in a loosely assembled heart. His hair was dark and long, down to the top of his shoulders, and he was bigger, broader than the blond man, though they stood at the same height. His skin was covered in ink – visible under the rolled up sleeves and open collar of his navy henley. 

“Oh, lord,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to try and discern if you were dreaming. 

You were, in fact, not dreaming. 

The dark-haired man looked up at the counter and sent you a charming grin, pointing at the flowers himself. “Did you do these?” 

Don’t make a fool of yourself, you chastised silently. “Yeah, they–yeah, I did them,” you stammered in reply. 

“They’re stunning,” the blond offered, awestruck. “You’ve done an amazing job, doll.”

The two men walked to the counter, hands still interlocked as they neared, and you gulped – they were married, keep it together. 

“I’m Steve,” the blond said happily, holding his hand out to shake, which you accepted politely, with an added bonus of being able to look at his tattoos. “And this is my husband, Bucky.” He pointed at the dark-haired man who also offered his hand, only he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles – just like a prince would. Your stomach and heart swooped at the gesture when Steve continued, “We own the tattoo shop next door.”

“Oh!” you chirped, immediately cringing internally. You offered your name, then, “I’ve seen the art in the windows, and it’s all so beautiful. Have you been here long? I know I’ve only recently set up shop, but business has been so busy I haven’t had a chance to come and say hello.”

Bucky grinned. “Too long, we would say,” he chuckled and glanced at Steve. “We saw you set up shop back when you moved in, and I have to say, we were very intrigued.” Both men looked around your store before their focus was back on you. “It’s a beautiful set up, nice ‘n cosy.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, shy but proud. 

Steve smirked and nodded to the display of Rapunzel flowers. “What would a professional recommend for two hovering mother hens–just to remind them that we love ‘em.”

“Oh, that is so sweet,” you rushed before you could clamp your jaw shut, and Bucky snorted. “What? What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky rushed, still grinning. “It’s just–if you met them, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

A loud smack sounded as Steve slapped Bucky’s shoulder and shoved him away. “Stop being such an ungrateful son, honey,” he teased as Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway,” you said haltingly, making your way around the counter. More to yourself, you mumbled, “You can do this, it’s fine, they’re just handsome men, keep it together.” 

Coming to a stop at the far corner, you stopped and watched both of them as they bickered, much like an old married couple, “You know Ma would like that more. She likes teddies and shit-” Bucky emphasised, but Steve raised a brow. 

“You’re telling me that you want to shell out for a damn bear–well, aren’t you son of the year,” Steve teased, staring at the shelf full of small, soft stuffies. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, now he agrees with me-” Bucky was cut off by Steve’s hand, who covered his mouth and held his thumb under his chin to keep his mouth shut. The display made your lips part in surprise, though it went unnoticed. Bucky’s brows furrowed, and it looked as though he was pouting. You made out a muffled but determined huff of, “Lemme go.”

“Do as you’re told then, boy,” Steve whispered harshly. 

Internally, you were screaming at the show of intimacy – albeit restrained, and you couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up your spine at the sound of Steve’s command. You shook your head and cleared your throat to get their attention. 

Both of their gazes snapped towards you as though they had forgotten where they were. “D-Do you still want–want help?” you stuttered. 

“Yes, please, doll,” Steve said happily, and he wandered over. Bucky followed soon after and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, wrapping his arms from behind – the creak of leather made you look down to see Bucky on his toes to have the slight height advantage. 

You realised a second too late that you were still staring at them because they chuckled and winked at you when you glanced back up at their faces.  

A sudden shyness blanketed your mind at their undivided attention, but you pushed through the murky waters of confused intrigue and desire – the latter a shock to your system. “So, we have these, especially for motherly bouquets,” you explained, pointing at the purple, pink, and yellow hues of petals. “Otherwise…”

The tour of the shop was an eventful encounter. Both men were enraptured and entranced by the beauty of the flowers, and each compliment to any arrangement made your heart soar with pride. It was only when you made it back to the Disney themed arrangements did Steve’s eyes light up. 

“Mom would love these,” he breathed, gently brushing the petals of a yellow lily before doing the same to a purple rose. “She loves this movie. It’s a job to convince her to watch anything else.”

You giggled and nodded in agreement. “I have to say it’s one of my favourites, too. So beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said suddenly, and you looked at him. He was already staring at you. “Really beautiful.”

The humming of Ilene Woods came over the speaker at that moment: “So this is love, so this is what makes life divine.” Steve nodded in agreement and looked at you with a fond smile.

It was surreal, and it was all you could do to hold in a squeak of shock. On autopilot, while you recovered from such an insinuation, you blurted quickly, “I saw the tattoos on your necks. What do they mean? They’re so beautiful, and I adore them.”

“Oh, these?” Bucky pointed at his and then Steve’s, the flower tattoos bright in the sunlight from the window. “My Ma loves purple daisies, loved ‘em since she was young. I always bring her some each time I visit, and since she and Steve’s Mom are best friends, it’s only natural that this punk has to get Sarah some of her own. Don’t want him lookin’ like the bad son, after all.”

Steve shoved Bucky off and sighed heavily. “Yeah, shut it, jerk.” He rubbed at the tattoo, smiling absently. “Mom loves sunflowers. Dad used to get her a bunch every Friday night.”

You smiled softly at his words, feeling the pain of them. “That’s beautiful, Steve.” Bucky’s hand found Steve’s, and you saw him squeeze once. “Would you like two Rapunzel bouquets, then? I can add a sunflower and a daisy to each at no charge–I want to make your mothers smile. They deserve it.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t ask you to do that,” Bucky interjected. Steve hummed an ascension as you grabbed a bouquet. “Seriously. Your arrangements are stunning. We can’t ask for anymore.”

“You’re not asking,” you whispered quietly, looking at the bouquet in your arms. The beat of your heart thundered as you wondered if what you were about to say would spook them off, but their presence had flourished something inside of you – a boisterous and courageous thing. “I am offering, and I want those who leave my shop to be happy, to smile. If I can do that for your mothers too? You bet I will.”

You turned your back and walked towards the counter, entirely missing the look Bucky and Steve shared – one of adoration and affection.

The bouquet sat proudly on the counter as you turned to grab the next one, when you gasped in shock. Bucky had grabbed the second one, while Steve had picked up one of the largest and most expensive arrangements. 

“Oh, Steve! Bucky, wait, I-”

“Nope,” Bucky cut in, and he placed the Rapunzel bouquet down next to the other one. Then he turned to Steve to help him lift the bigger arrangement onto the counter. “How about this–would you make us something for our shop? We want something on the front desk. This big one,” he pointed to the elaborate piece, “is going in our home–away from Alpine.”

“Alpine?” you quizzed. Steve nodded, and Bucky pulled out his phone before turning the screen to you – a photo of a fluffy white cat with piercing blue eyes as his lock screen. “They are beautiful!”

“She’s an attention whore, but she’s our baby,” Bucky said fondly, a small smile on his lips. He looked up at you and that smile morphed into a grin. “Now, how ‘bout it, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“The arrangement for our shop, doll,” Steve answered, and you started – how had you forgotten that?

“Right!” you rushed, flustered. They watched you, but their gazes were gentle, almost coaxing. “Sure–I, uh, I can do that for sure. When do you need it by?” Your trusty paper pad and pen felt comforting in your hands, and you looked between them expectantly. 

They shared a look, and then Steve spoke up, “Are you busy now, honey?”

Mentally, you catalogued the tasks for the day. There were no urgent appointments to meet nor any commissions, and Wanda was around… “No, I am–I am free, today, that is.” You cursed the softness of your voice. They’d see your shyness, your absurd ability to become flustered with the slightest push. 

Bucky grinned and then winked. “Perfect, why don’t we take you to the shop? See how quick our clever girl can whip something up.”

By heaven and earth, how you were unprepared for such a statement. Your mouth opened and closed as the words settled in the cogs of your brain, jamming them with the assurance  and praise. 

“That’s a good idea, doll. You can get a sense for the colours and contrasts.” Steve turned to you more fully. “We can walk you back–do you have someone to watch the store…?”

“Yeah–I, there’s-” You squeaked, gesturing over your shoulder. “I’ll just- Um, go get her.”

The back cooler room couldn’t have been further away at that moment. You rushed towards it, arm outstretched when you heard Steve whisper behind you, “She’s so sweet, don’t you think?”

“She is,” Bucky agreed easily. The words made your heart thump, and you didn’t linger, pushing open the door to the blast of the cool back room air.  

“There you are-” Wanda greeted, but she fell short.

You shut the door and rested against it, holding a hand over your hammering heart.

“What the–? Are you alright?” she hurriedly asked, her face pulled taut and brows furrowed. “You look like you’ve… Wait, are you-”

“I need you to watch the shop for me,” you barrelled, breathing deeply in an effort to calm your racing heart. “Please–just look.” The door creaked open to reveal a slither of the front counter where Bucky and Steve stood, conversing and looking around the store. “They want me to make a–a bouquet for their shop, the tattoo–?”

“Oh, babe,” Wanda whispered, pushing the door closed gently. There was an impish smile curling her lips. “Go on, I’ve got this. If you don’t come back tonight, I’ll close up.”

“What do you mean not come back–?” You stared at her, unable to comprehend her secret, double meaning. 

“Don’t you worry, sweet summer child,” she said, winking. “I’ll see you later.”

Before you could protest or question why everyone kept winking at you, Wanda had undone the bow of your apron, whisked it off of your uniform, and forced you out the door ahead of her. 

“There she is!” Bucky called, his signature grin curling his lips. “Are you set to go?”

Wanda stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, and she surreptitiously pushed you closer to the counter. She had that same coy smirk on her lips. Both Bucky and Steve waved and greeted her. “Just take care of my girl–she’s going to make you the best arrangement,” Wanda said. 

“We will,” Steve assured, and he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay for these now, ladies.”

After completing the transaction for the two bouquets and singular larger arrangement, Wanda’s hand found your back, and she forced you forward, closer to Bucky. “See you three later.”

Steve saluted and walked forward, and you followed, your footsteps quick compared to the heavy boot falls of your companions. As you walked behind Steve, Bucky pointed up to a canvas on the wall – a scene painted straight from the movie Tangled, the beautiful soft hues of yellow and gold of the lanterns in the sky. “Who did this?”

“A local artist,” you whispered, glancing between the canvas and Bucky. “She sells her work here–I wanted to help an old friend.”

Bucky stepped closer to the canvas, and by doing so, he stood right next to you. The smell of his cologne and close proximity made your heart skip a beat – even his voice sounded deeper this close. “Whoever she is, she’s very talented. Pass that on for us, yeah?”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I- I will pass that on for you. She would appreciate it.”

“I would be tempted to hire her,” Steve said quietly, voice awestruck. “Her colour work and ability to capture the moment is beautiful. She has a gift.”

Do not faint, you repeated in a mantra.

“Alright, c’mon,” Bucky urged. “Let’s take our Petal to the shop, or we’ll never leave.”

“Petal?” you whispered, and Bucky rested his hand on your lower back, gently encouraging you forward. 

“Yeah, that’s you,” he said softly. “Precious and pretty–jus’ like a petal of a flower.”

The outside air was a reprieve from the stifling tension of your shop, and Steve turned around and looked at you, then Bucky, and he slowed to walk beside you – opposite to Bucky. You were walking between them, and could not calm your heart’s thunderous beat. 

It was a short walk, but nonetheless, it left an impression. People had hastened to move out of your way as you walked between the two men, both brooding and you had guessed intimidating – if the shocked and double-takes of all passers by were anything to go by. 

A dark brick building came into view – black awnings and dark accents made it feel rustic, paired with the striking art on the windows of a star and a set of wings set just below the artistic calligraphy of Quartet’s Tattoo. 

“Here we are,” Steve said, gesturing at the front door. “Come on in, Petal–Buck, babe, you picked a nice one. I love the way it sounds.”

“What?” you sputtered. “I-”

‘Yeah,” Bucky breathed, then slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. His lips were suddenly on your temple, a soft kiss that left you reeling. “I agree.”

The door, artfully carved with more stars and in place of wings were skulls, opened with a creak to reveal a dark and moody waiting area. Wooden beams were visible over the ceiling where lights with black shades hung in increments, and designs were all over the walls, each as intricate as the last. Dark slats of wood lined the floor until they reached an open space towards the back of the shop where you guessed the booths were situated. 

“Take a seat, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pointing to a black leather couch that seated three, a glass table in front of it. “Do you want a drink–?”

“Water, please,” you replied, sitting down. You suspected you’d need something stronger to dull the nerves, but you refrained from mentioning that aloud. “This is beautiful.” 

Art was everywhere, in every nook and cranny. You could see four booths, and managed a peak at the names lining the walls – Steve, ‘Cap’; Bucky, ‘Sarge’; Nat, ‘Widow’; Sam, ‘Falcon’.

“Thanks, doll,” Steve said happily, and he took the seat opposite you. “It’s our pride and joy.”

Bucky appeared with a glass of water and sat on the other end of the couch, tucking his leg up so he could face you. It was silent for a moment as you took the space in. Choices flooded your mind the more you stared around – reds and burgundies to compliment the dark stained wood, but then, whites and yellows would contrast against the deep, rich hues of the mahogany.

You blinked and looked back at Bucky and Steve, only they were already watching you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you breathed, smiling nervously as you placed the glass of water on a coaster on the table. “I- I was just looking so I could, um, get a feel for the arrangement for you.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you thinking?” Bucky asked, his tone teasing. 

Frowning slightly, deep in thought, you looked around the shop once more before finally settling on the reception desk. 

The wood was stained dark, like the rest of the shop, but the accents of lightened, bleached knots and ridges caught your attention. Whites and yellows would bring that to light, and then, a fiery arrangement for the glass coffee table… “Uh- Well, I have two ideas,” you began. 

Both Bucky and Steve raised their brows, and placed their drinks on the table. Steve leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands fall between his thighs. Bucky, back still against the arm of the couch, leaned against it and put a heavily tattooed arm over the back of it. 

“Let’s hear it then,” Bucky said, his grey eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s our clever girl imagined?”

“Let her talk, Buck,” Steve chastised. 

You took a deep breath and fought against the urge to run and hide – it was strange to feel so safe and attended to by these two strangers, but they had done nothing to warrant suspicion, at least, not that you had thought. 

“Well,” you began, fidgeting in your seat as you nodded to the reception desk. “I thought a lighter arrangement would work. See how the wood is stained dark, but there are lighter streaks and knots?” You pointed at the spots you could see from your vantage point. “Whites and yellows would soften the–I think saturation is the right word?”

There was an affirming hum from one of them, and you continued. “Then it would make the entry feel lighter, as the room feels broody–it isn’t a bad thing,” you rushed to assure, looking at the two men with wide eyes. “The space is beautiful, and I love it–just, some softness might brighten it a bit.”

“Huh, you’re right, doll,” Steve considered, his hand now rubbing his chin as he stared at the desk. “I think we’d do better–maybe attract more clients. What do you think, babe?”

“It would work well, yeah,” Bucky agreed. 

He shifted closer, almost imperceptibly, but your keen, anxious senses saw it immediately. What frightened you more was the fact you were not scared of it. The thought of him being close made your body heat up from some depth that had been untouched. They were married, you intoned. They were married to one another, no less. 

“What would be even better, though,” Bucky continued, his tone impish. “Is if you told us the second idea.”

“Oranges and reds–fiery colours to bring attention to the mahogany wood and dark stain,” you said in one breath. Nerves had started to make your stomach roil and flutter with butterflies. As you stared at your hands while breathing shallowly, a tattooed hand rested over your fingers, effectively stopping your bad habit of picking at the skin. “I-”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly, squeezing your hands. “You’re alright. It’s cute that you're so shy, but trust us, you’re okay. If we are comin’ on too strong for you, we will stop.”

The world stopped. Time froze, your place in the expansive universe suddenly too much to comprehend. “Coming on too strong–?” you asked hoarsely, unable to take in the words. “Are you- You two are flirting with me?”

There was a chuckle from the seat across from you, and you looked at Steve sharply. A bright smile was on his face, one of which conveyed affection, not patronisation. “Yeah, we are, doll. Do you want us to stop?”

You blinked, looked at Bucky, then back to Steve. “But you’re married!”

“We are, happily so,” Bucky said, and he took his hand away. You suddenly missed the warmth of it. “And we know what we want. We were in your shop today for more than just flowers, sweetheart. I wasn’t lying when I said we’ve been curious–a pretty Petal like you, clever and downright beautiful, both generous and kind… Well, we were intrigued.”

The words flushed your system and left you hollow with shock, akin to an overwhelming giddiness. “I don’t understand,” you breathed, staring at Bucky. “You want- What do you want?”

“We want to take you on a date. If you are interested, and want to,” Bucky offered gently. “You can say no, and we won’t think any different of you, don’t you worry ‘bout that. Like hell would we skip on your skills as a florist, and we’d still be friends. If you wanted to be, of course.”

“A date?” 

“A date,” Steve affirmed. “We know polyamorous relationships aren’t everyone’s cup of tea-” 

Bucky snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You sound ridiculous saying that, Stevie.”

“Shut up, punk,” Steve sighed. Then he looked at you again. “As I was saying, yes, it’s not everyone’s favourite. We just- We became smitten with you, doll. So, if you would be interested, we’d like to take you on a date.”

“Oh.” 

The world, still tilted on its axis, started spinning once more, taking your insides with it as it moved. You blinked rapidly, and your hands curled and relaxed on your knees. 

Truly, the offer didn’t scare you, per se. It was the reality shaking thought that not one, but two men found you intriguing enough that they wanted to take you out on a date–a traditional date.

A truly old fashioned notion, you thought. 

Their presence seemed to bring out your reckless, wild side, and you took a deep breath. They said they would still care for you as a friend, even if you said no, and it comforted your heart and screaming, anxious mind. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky asked, brow raised. “Do you want some time-”

“I’ll go on a date with you two,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself. “I would love that.”

Bucky beamed at you while Steve rose from his seat to lean down and kiss the crown of your head. “Perfect, doll. Why don’t you do both of your ideas, and we can pick ‘em up when you’re done?”

Feeling emboldened, you grinned up at Steve and then at Bucky. “I will have them done in a few hours. Walk me back?”

“You heard the lady,” Bucky murmured, his eyes slightly wide at your eagerness. “Someone’s excited to get to work.”

“Well, you have me motivated,” you explained with a shrug and a shy smile. “I won’t let you two down.”

Steve shook his head and helped you up before leading you to the door. “You could never let us down, honey–remember that.” 

The two of them walked you back to your shop, opening and holding the door for you. “Such gentlemen,” you teased quietly. They only winked. 

“There you are,” Wanda called happily as she rounded the counter to greet you. “Have you organised a theme?”

“Two,” you supplied, chipper. Wanda’s brows raised at your enthusiasm. “I’m going to be doing a light arrangement and a fiery toned one, too. It’ll set the colours off nicely, I think.” 

Wanda nodded and grabbed your hand. “You’re the expert,” she said, leading you towards the cooler room. “See you boys later!”

“No, wait,” you rushed, looking back at Steve and Bucky as you pulled away from Wanda’s grip. “Can–can I have your number? So I can text you when they’re done–?”

The smiles on their faces could have made the toughest rose bloom, you swore. Once their numbers were in your phone, they walked from the store, arrangements in hand for their mothers. 

As you worked on the bouquets while Wanda minded the store, you thought long and hard about their proposition. They were grown men. It was not like you were dealing with the decisions and minds of growing boys – marriage was a big deal, and opening it to a stranger was even more risky. Did they truly want to risk all of what they had built? 

Thoughts spiralled, and your mind whirled with all the possibilities – rational thought long cast out of the equation. Until, “You keep pulling a face like that, babe, and it’ll get stuck.”

You looked up to see Wanda standing in the doorway, hair tied up and a soft, kind smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, glinting in the way that told you she knew something was amiss. “What’s got you all tied up, love?”

The stem of the rose was smooth against your fingers, and you considered the thorns that adorned it – helpfully comparing it to your current predicament. “I just, I don’t know. It seems so sudden–doesn’t it? Them just waltzing in here–”

“Hold on.” Wanda glanced back to the store and then stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest. “You will not second guess this. I have seen those two make heart eyes at you for the longest time.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, astonished. 

“I meant what I said,” Wanda said a little too easily, and she shrugged. “Have you not seen how those puppies look for you as they walk by the store window almost every single day?”

Your mouth parted in shock. Had they? “No…”

Wanda shook her head slowly, a slow smile pulling the corner of her lips up. It wasn’t a condescending expression, but rather, one of an older sister who cared beyond words for the one they loved. “Babe, you… You have to give this a shot. Give them a chance. I do not know them well, but I know they are kind, and gentle–gentle giants, if you will.” 

A strong feeling of ease settled in your gut and over your mind, cancelling out the cacophony of nerves that screamed and pitched their fits. If Wanda, the one you trusted the most, could see something, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it. 

You looked at the bouquets before you, one of angelic and pure white to sunny, happy yellow; the other bright, cheerful orange and fiery, passionate red. It was symbolistic of the clash in your mind; resemblances to the possible opportunities. White for the softness of your soul, and reds to Bucky and Steve’s desire. 

“Alright,” you said aloud, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll do it. I- I want this.”

Wanda grinned, a blindingly prideful smile. “‘Atta girl. Now, get to it!”

A few hours later, as the sun had started to begin its descent, you stood in the back room of your shop filled with awe. The bouquets had turned out perfect – each petal and leaf in place. You snapped a few photos with your phone and then sent a text to Bucky’s number, asking if they would come around after they closed up. 

Your ringtone made you jump in place, and Bucky’s name flashed across the screen. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky greeted, the low hum of a tattoo machine in the background with the lull of quiet music. “Did you finish the flowers?”

“Yeah, I- I did, do you think you could–?”

There was a huff of breath, a chuckle, and then a sudden yell of “Babe!” before another voice came through the speaker. 

“We’ll be round in about twenty minutes–that okay, doll?” Steve asked.

“That’s perfect,” you replied, looking at the clock. “I’ll be here–I’ll close up, so just knock when you get here.”

“Alright, see you soon.” The line clicked, and you put your phone back in your pocket. 

Closing the shop went quickly, and after you had said goodnight to Wanda, you were on your own in the office, waiting as the minutes went by until you heard a knock on the store’s door. “Coming!” 

Steve and Bucky were waiting on the sidewalk, huddled in coats as they watched you walk to the door. “Hey, come in, come in,” you rushed, stepping aside. “Thank you for coming and picking them up so late.”

“It’s nothin’, sweetheart,” Bucky yawned. “If we’re honest–we wanted to see you before we headed home.”

You smiled and looked at the floor, unable to look him in the eye after such sincerity. There was suddenly a hand gripping your chin gently, and you automatically moved in tandem with it until you were staring into Steve’s handsome face. “That we did.”

Blinking rapidly, you pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Did you guys have a good rest of your day?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, looking around happily. “Normal shit with walk-ins and then we got started on a back piece. Poor bastard had to tap out.”

“We warned him.” Bucky shrugged. “Not like the poor fool didn’t know what he was gettin’ into. Anyway–how about those flowers?”

You led the two of them to the counter, where you heard two sharp intakes of breath as the arrangements came into view. They were extraordinary, and you had gone above and beyond for them – using flowers and buds that were yet to bloom to fill the spaces, each and every one placed with care and consideration. All of the colours complimented; a true masterpiece. 

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped, and Bucky rushed forward to look at the bundles closer. “Petal– look at them!”

“You are amazing,” Bucky said quietly, his fingers brushing the petals of a white rose. “Absolutely fuckin’ amazing, look at this. You did this.”

“Oh, my gosh,” you whispered, hiding behind your hands. “It’s just two bouquets-”

Steve looked at you, aghast. “No.” 

Both of them stepped towards you, and the next thing you knew, you were between them, squished to their chests and their arms around you. “Don’t you dare discount yourself, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. “Be proud of yourself–it’s not a bad thing to be proud of what you create. And what you created is fuckin’ stunning.”

Many emotions swirled through your mind until you sniffled, pushing back against the burn of tears in your eyes. “O-Okay, thank you,” you whispered. Steve pulled away from the embrace to look at the flowers again, his face slack with awe, and Bucky held you tighter to his chest.

You felt a kiss at your temple suddenly. “Don’t you listen to those voices, alright? We’re louder and you’re gonna learn to love what you do, no matter what.” Unable to answer, you just nodded jerkily, wiping your eyes. Bucky’s thumb brushed your cheek, and he smiled softly as he pulled back. 

“Why don’t we get dinner?” Steve asked suddenly, and you looked at him. “This isn’t our date, Petal, don’t you worry. Let’s just get dinner. How do you get home–drive, walk?”

“I walk-” You tried, but Steve shook his head. 

“Not anymore, can’t have our Petal walking home on your own, okay?”

Ordinarily, you would have grimaced and grumbled at the commanding nature of such a statement, but somehow, this didn’t feel out of place. They cared, they just wanted you safe, you reasoned. “Okay, but Wanda normally walks with me, so–”

“That’s fine, we’ve got you both,” Bucky said simply, as though giving you both a lift was, in fact, not a big deal. 

“If you’re sure,” you said quietly, and Bucky squeezed your shoulder.

“Let’s go, I’m starved,” Steve said loudly, almost obnoxiously. Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. “Don’t start with me, babe. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

Bucky looked at you. “Yeah, he becomes more of a pain in my ass.”

“Literally,” Steve chortled, and you gasped in quiet shock as Bucky hit Steve on the shoulder.

“We are in polite company, you fucker!” Bucky shoved Steve, and the two of them bickered as they arranged the flowers in their arms to better carry them out of the store. 

Finally, Bucky huffed and stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Let’s get these in the shop, then we can go to that diner.”

The three of you wandered out of your store, bouquets in hand, and Bucky took them into the shop. “How about here?” he wondered aloud, placing the red bouquet on the table, and adjusting it slightly. 

You strode forward and adjusted it again, turning the vases and humming to yourself as you righted it. When you were satisfied, you stepped back and nodded. “How ‘bout that?”

Steve hummed approvingly as he placed the white arrangement on the reception desk – perfectly, you may add. Bucky looked between you and the flowers once, twice, then, “You’re decorating from now on, sweetheart.”

“If you say so.”

“We know so.” Steve’s hand was warm on your shoulder, and you briefly glanced down at the intricate designs that covered the back of his hand, the swirls stopping at the gold wedding and engagement bands. He flexed his hand and raised a brow. “What is it, doll?”

You considered your answer, and then ploughed on. “How long have you been married?”

“Feels like our whole lives at this point,” Bucky answered before Steve could open his mouth. “I’ve been with this punk since, what–college? Before that, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We’ve been partners for a lifetime, and all those before-”

“Don’t go gettin’ all poetic on me, honey,” Bucky hushed, and he kissed Steve on the lips, then the cheek. “You said you were starved.”

“Can’t I be soft on my love?” 

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “You’re a punk–c’mon, Petal, let’s go.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along – it was hard to ignore how warm his hand was or how your hand fit so perfectly in his. “And, just so you know, we’ve been married for nearly a decade now.”

“Wow,” you breathed, impressed. Neither gave the impression of being much older than yourself, but you supposed they were youthful in attitude, and that was one thing they had in abundance.

“So, what about that old diner on the corner–?”

“Yes!” you cried, brightening at the mention of your favourite spot to eat. “I love it there.”

Steve came up behind you and took hold of your other hand. “Alright, that’s settled then–off we go.”

They led you to a sleek, luxurious looking car parked a few feet from Quartet’s Tattoo. Bucky opened the back door for you, and you slipped into the leather seats with an awestruck gasp. The interior was immaculate and, for lack of a better word, rich. “Whoa–”

“We figured rather than letting that money sit and collect dust, we thought we should spend some of it,” Steve explained as he turned the ignition, and all the screens along the dash lit up. “Bucky spent more on his bike.”

You quickly looked at Bucky, who grinned proudly. “You have a bike?”

“Sure do, sweetheart. I’ll take you out one day,” he promised with another wink. 

Steve sighed. “That’s enough, you. Don’t want her passing out before dinner, at least.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, and Steve backed the car up before you were on your way to the diner. For dinner, with the two men that had asked you out on a date. The two married men. Wow, you thought to yourself. 

There was a slither of hesitance, but it was nothing next to the bounding hope of your heartbeat. For too long had you been shy and hesitant to take life by the reins, to take control and make something for yourself – your shop being the only proof that you could indeed take risks. 

That would end now, you intoned, promising yourself. Maybe this would be okay, maybe it would work. 

You could only try. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #stucky x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #stucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #stucky fanfiction #stucky imagine #stucky fluff #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

[spamgyu]

PRETTY BOY // College!Mingyu AU – small purses and labels

"Even if the sky's on fire. Got you here, it's alright, with me ..."

Started off as this prompt: no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable genre: tooth-aching fluff

this is based on these two requests - one of them i cant find bc i am a disorganized mess but it's from 🎀 and the other is from this anon

"Can you put my keys in your purse?" Mingyu batted his lashes at her, holding his car keys out.

Y/n glanced at his hand and then at the tiny shoulder bag in her hand – raising a brow at him. "I hope you know this literally only fits a lipgloss and my will to live."

Curse the current trend of tiny baguette bags – why must they be so cute yet so small, only able to hold far less than what she could probably stuff into her pockets.

It wasn't that her outfit needed a purse. They were simply getting bagels.

But it did make complete her look, and that was more than enough of an excuse to use it.

"Pleaseeee." He dragged his word.

It wasn't like his keys would take up much space anyways – it wasn't like hers that had multiple unneccesary key chains hanging off of it.

It was literally just his key fob, house keys, and dorm keys. It would take up 4 inches at most.

Taking the set with sigh, Y/n threw it in her purse before holding it out for him.

"What do you want me to do with that?" Mingyu blinked.

"It's heavy now and I don't want to carry it."

"Y/n," Mingyu let out a chuckle. "You can't possibly be ser— yeah okay."

Taking the black bag from her hand, Mingyu slipped the strap awkwardly up his arm – the tiny loop stopping mid-bicep.

"Am I serving?"

The girl let out a laugh, pulling out her phone to snap a picture at how ridiculous her boyf– her friend, looked. "You could have just held it."

"But am I serving?" He repeated, this time placing a hand on his jutted out hip.

"Yes. You served and ate." Y/n rolled her eyes at his antics – he never did stop with his foolishness since they began .... talking.

If anything, it persisted much more – Mingyu revealing more and more of his true self and y/n doing the same.

There wasn't a single day they were together that wasn't filled with laughter – laughs that left tears in their eyes.

"Mingyu?"

A grown woman's voice caught the two's attention – Mingyu mostly, whipping his head at the source of the familiar voice.

"Mom!" His eyes wide.

It wasn't that he was afraid, as if he was caught doing something wrong. No, never that. He was simply surprised – especially considering he lived two cities away and there was no reason for his parents to be in their college town.

"Wha- what are you guys doing here?" He leaned in to place a kiss on each of his parent's cheeks before stepping back to stand next to y/n, who was awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to another.

If he had been any one of her friends, she would have happily stuck her hand out and introduced herself to Mingyu's parents.

But their situation was different.

They were in a grey area. For now, at least.

They were much more than friends; sharing sweet hushed words in the midst of a crowd, their hands naturally gravitating to one another when they walked side by side, his lips finding a home on her forehead whenever he greeted or bid her a goodbye.

But they weren't official either. There was no label.

"This is– um–"

"You must be Mingyu's girlfriend." The older woman cut her son off with a smile. "All we've heard during calls is your name and how wonderful you are."

"Mom." Mingyu warned through his teeth, eyes just as wide as when he first heard her call out for him earlier.

Y/n bit back the smile that threatened to form on her lips.

He talked about her.

Constantly.

More importantly, he addressed her as his girlfriend.

Y/n has always been confident in herself, and she thought she would be the same when it came to dating; but to say she didn't have some doubts in her and Mingyu would be a lie. She knew she wasn't the only one with her eyes set on the six-foot charismatic basketball player; y/n was well aware there are girls dying to be at her spot.

And sure, she may have spent some nights lying awake, thinking of the worst – the blissful past few weeks possibly coming down crashing on her. She was a realist, after all.

Mingyu could have anyone, he could be with that girl in 302 – the smart dark haired girl who seemed to know more about sports than y/n did. The one girl she could have sworn Mingyu had his eyes on before they even established a friendship.

Y/n was just like any other girl. She had her insecurities; one of them including Mingyu's true feelings for her.

Despite the fact that he was very transparent with her.

"Oh, don't act all embarrassed now." His mother waved him off. "You even have her purse up your arm. Young love–"

"Alright, we're going." Mingyu spoke quickly, tugging on y/n's arm – who was now giggling.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim." Y/n stood her ground, despite the boy who was practically begging for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Likewise." His father nodded. "We usually have Sunday dinners, you should come along."

Y/n glanced at Mingyu. "I mean it's only fair, considering how much of my family dinners you've crashed."

"Mingyu!" Mrs. Kim gasped.

"Hey! I was invited by coach!" He cried. "I– I'll bring her along, can we please just be excused? I feel like I'm dying here."

The three of them laughed at the poor boy who cowered behind the girl that was practically half his height – dreading the conversation they were about to have the second they stepped away from his parents.

"Have a great rest of your day, kids." Mr. Kim chuckled.

"Thanks." Mingyu mumbled with a sigh, practically dragging y/n away from his parents.

"Girlfriend, huh?" She laughed as the finally reached the store front.

A suppressed groan was heard from Mingyu, using his hands to cover the redness that began to form on his face.

Y/n wasn't upset, not like what Mingyu thought in his head. In fact, she found the whole interaction, and revelation, to be cute – even more now that he was clearly quite embarrassed.

"Do you refer to me as your girlfriend to anyone else?" She brought her hands up to pull his away from his face – their fingers interlocking once they were at his side.

"Um– everyone?" Mingyu kept his eyes trained on his shoes.

"Sorry– what?" Y/n coughed.

"Well– I, we're heading there anyways and– I promise I do plan on asking you to be my girlfriend. I have it all planned it's romant–"

He was speaking fast.

It was a habit of his when he was either excited or nervous; either way, she found it absolutely adorable. Y/n didn't care to listen to the rest of his rambling, leaning up to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"This was romantic." She smiled up at him.

"Wha–"

"I'm your girlfriend."

Mingyu stood frozen, his brain still attempting to process the soft pillows that made contact with his lips – his fingers reaching up to touch the sticky gloss she had left behind.

Peach vanilla.

"I'm your boyfriend." His voice was small, almost as if he was saying it to reaffirm himself.

"Yes."

"I'm your boyfriend!" Mingyu repeated much louder this time, his lips stretched from ear to ear. "Oh, prepared to be so sick of me."

PERMANENT TAGLIST

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#warning this isnt edited sorry #long time no see...... #our favorite best boy is back ehehehe #ITS ALL FLUFF DONT WORRY I GOT SOME OF YALL WITH TRUST ISSUES READY TO FIGHT ME #college!mingyu au #mingyu x reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu drabble #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #spamgyu pretty boy

[bitchinbarzal]

Sunday | M Barzal

summary: sunday is your favourite.

-

Sundays were soft.

Sundays were spent at absolute bagels to get the exact order you had got every week.

Sundays were spent holding Mat’s hand while he whispered sweet words to you.

Sundays were spent in Central Park, eating bagels with the love of your life.

You loved Sundays, you loved them more with Mat.

The sun was warmer than it had been in previous weeks, early March was showing a glimpse of what spring in New York had in store.

Mat needed this, you knew that. It was getting closer to the seasons end and the islanders weren’t in a position to clinch yet.

Mat knew he had to put the effort into this team, he didn’t want to let them down.

“You know we didn’t have to do this today, I know the guys are doing a voluntary practice” you mumble, pressing a kiss to mat’s shoulder.

He smiled softly “And miss Sunday in the park with my girl? Absolutely not!”

You laughed “Another Sunday to convince you my bagel is the best…”

Mat rolls his eyes, poking at the breakfast sandwich in your hand “No! It’s not! This-“

He holds his bagel up

“This is the best!”

“I’m just glad they don’t do the Barz-agel this side of the river”

“Hey listen your boyfriend is so famous he has a bagel named after him, you’re a lucky woman”

“Har-har” you muttered, biting into your bagel “The best!”

Mat rolled his eyes again, just smiling this time at the way you smirked still with food in your mouth. Even now, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Your bagels were finished, with one more argument about whose order was best you took his wrapper and headed towards the closest trash can.

On route back to where he was standing you stopped

“Oh my god, mat have you ever noticed this?!” You screeched.

Mat frowned, walking over to see what you were looking at.

The two of you stared at the golden plaque on the park bench, leaning closer to read the inscription

“Oh that’s so cute! To my beloved Sammy… Mat they were in love” you exclaimed, watching him walk to the next bench along to read that inscription.

“This one says ‘they love this walk, this park but most of all each other” he read and you pout

“That’s so sweet! Can you imagine someone buying you a bench? I wonder how much it costs..” you wonder aloud, pulling out your phone to google it.

The two of you start walking again while you google “Ten grand! Holy shit!”

Mat laughs softly at your tone “Maybe if you’re really nice to me I’ll buy you one”

“Hmm does that mean I have to agree with your bagel choice?”

His eyes brows raise “Well now you’ve mentioned it…”

You smirk, pulling on his hand “Buy me a bench and we can talk!”

“Daddy come on!” Mat chased after the little girl through the park

“Woah slow down princess you’re gonna get lost!”

She turns to look at him with that cheeky grin “Not if you catch up”

He rolls his eyes as her sass “What are you even running for?”

“Look! The seats have words!” She exclaims, pointing to the park benches golden plaque.

Mat crouches down beside her, on her level “yeah? What do they say?”

He watched as she narrowed her eyes, standing closer to be able to read it “that one says a dirty word!”

She Saunders along the benches, reading them all one by one.

She stops abruptly and gasps “Daddy! This one has your name on it!”

Mathew smiles softly, walking to where she is “Yeah?”

“Yeah.. look! It says I love Sunday with you - Hey! That’s my name!”

Mat smiles, kissing the side of her head “It sure does babygirl”

She cocks her head to the side “Daddy read it for me, please?”

“It says, Y/N I love Sundays with you forever, Mat”

She looks at her dad, matching the sad look on his face

“Hey daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that mommy’s bench?”

“It is, that’s mommy’s bench” He nods, squeezing her hand.

“Can I sit? Be with mommy?” She points to the seat with sad eyes.

He nods “Let’s sit together baby, we’ll eat our bagels” shaking the bag.

Sunday smiles “mommy’s bagels!”

Mat rolls his eyes “My girls and their bad bagel choices…” pulling her up under his arm while she delved into the bag of breakfast food.

With the bagel in hand she looks at mat sadly “Daddy… I wish mommy was here”

“Yeah me too babygirl, me too”

Sundays were soft.

Sundays were spent holding Mat’s hand while he whispered sweet words to you.

Sundays were spent in Central Park, eating bagels with the love of your life.

Sunday was the only thing Mat had left of you.

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine

[sunny44]

All these years (Part 4)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend Reader

Warnings: none I guess.

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Wedding day.

I was sewing my dress that was inside those bags and my dad was looking at something in the car.

"We have a problem."

"Ugh, what is it, Dad?"

"You'll have to go with Charles."

"What do you mean?"

"Because something went wrong with the car, and it will take an hour to fix. You're the bridesmaid, so you have to go now."

"Can I go with his parents?"

"They're taking his grandparents. Please, darling, I know it's annoying but do it for Arthur."

"Okay."

"Thank you." He kissed my forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, seeing that he was already putting his things in the car.

"Give me that." I handed over my things, which he arranged there. "You can put the dress on top of my suit on the back seat."

"Okay." I opened the door and put it on top of his suit.

"Do you need to get anything else?"

"Just my phone and we can go." He nodded. "I'm going now, Dad."

"Alright, take care, and try not to kill him on the way," my dad said.

"I'll try. Goodbye, Mom."

"Goodbye and be nice to him."

"Oh, he will definitely receive my kindness.” I said sarcastically, and he sighed. "Look, let's forget we ever had anything and move on."

"Do you still like Starbucks?" they ask, starting the car.

"Yes, I still like it."

"Fine, I'll stop and get us something to eat."

He headed for the drive-thru along the way, turning on the radio so that there wouldn't be that awkward silence between us.

"The usual?"

"Yes."

"I'll have a strawberry Frappuccino, a caramel Frappuccino and two bacon bagels."

I was really surprised that he still remembered what I like, the bagel and the drink are my favorite things from Starbucks and I always ordered them but I didn't know he would remember.

"Are you wondering how I remember?"

"Just surprised you remember."

"I remember everything." he says and luckily the woman delivers our orders just in time. "Here."

"Thank you. I can pay for mine and..."

"I'll pay." he says and hands over the card.

We sat in silence for a long time until he decided he needed to talk about us. And the smart guy did it now that I have nowhere else to go.

"How's your life?"

"It's good."

"And the job in Milan?

"I'm still at it, I've been promoted.”

"That's incredible, I'm happy for you."

"I'm sure you are," I say wryly and he sighs. "You don't have to pretend to be proud of me because if it were up to you I wouldn't even be there."

"I've already apologized for that Y/n."

"But it doesn't change anything, your apology doesn't change what a son of a bitch you were to me. I loved you and supported you in everything, even when I thought you were only going to get into trouble, I supported you. And then when it came to me and my dreams, I’ll had to give up everything to be with you."

"I know I was selfish and I regret it, I spent all those years thinking that if you'd stayed because of me we'd be an unhappy couple. You gave up many things because of me and I should have given up everything to be with you and I didn't and I regret it every day."

"Look, let's just forget we ever had anything and move on."

He didn't say anything, only heard him sigh defeatedly and we continued the rest of the way in silence with the music playing.

Tag list: @formulas-bitch @nuggetvirgo @lndonrris @cmleitora @janeholt3 @coffeewhore18 @blueflorals @agentadhd @eviethetheatrefreak @honethatty12 @lec-16 @ariamox @boherahpsody @ssararuffoni @leilani13gc @alldaysdreamer @minmira95 @dessxoxsworld @dessxoxsworld @vellicora @meadhbhcavanagh @viramila @lightdragonrayne @morenofilm @millinorrizz @leclercdream @buendiabebeta @ironmaiden1313 @julesandro @ssararuffoni @sialexia

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc lockscreens #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc wallpaper #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc icons #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc story #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc headers #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x max verstappen #ferrari