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pucksandpower · 5 days

Text

Made with Love

Charles Leclerc x amateur baker!Reader

Summary: in which Charles would rather risk the entire paddock getting food poisoning (again) than break your heart by telling you that your baking is horrible

You hum to yourself as you pull a tray of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The sweet, chocolaty aroma fills Charles’ kitchen, making your mouth water.

This batch is sure to be perfect! You’ve been practicing your baking skills for months now, determined to get it just right.

Charles wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the scent. “Mmm, something smells good in here!”

He peers over your shoulder at the tray of cupcakes. They’re a bit misshapen, with cracked tops that deflated the second they were taken out of the oven. The frosting is glopped on unevenly.

To you, they look absolutely mouthwatering. To Charles, they look … well, he loves you too much to say.

“Try one!” You urge, holding out a cupcake. Charles flashes you a hesitant smile before taking it. He peels back the liner and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he forces himself to chew and swallow.

“Well? How is it?” You ask eagerly.

Charles clears his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s great. Your best batch yet,” he lies. In truth, it’s dry and dense, with a strange bitter aftertaste. But the delight on your face makes the fib worth it.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. “Yay! I can’t wait to share them with the team this weekend.”

Charles’ stomach drops. The thought of the entire paddock pretending to enjoy your baking makes him cringe internally. But he plasters on a smile. “What a nice idea! I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The two of you arrive at the circuit and you can barely contain your excitement as you carry a large container of cupcakes into the paddock. Charles trails behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your temple before you flit off to distribute your baked goods.

You first approach Max Verstappen, holding out a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “Here Max, have one!”

Max eyes the treat dubiously but accepts it with a polite smile. “Thanks Y/N, that’s really nice of you.”

You beam and turn to Charles, missing the look of apprehension on Max’s face. Charles catches Max’s eye and draws a finger across his throat in warning. Max’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Charles won’t let anything ruin your mood today.

You make your way through the paddock, handing cupcakes to mechanics, engineers, PR reps, reporters, team principals, and drivers. Charles hovers behind you, keeping a watchful eye on each recipient.

Daniel Ricciardo visibly gags on his first bite when you turn away. Charles glares and shakes his head sharply. Daniel rearranges his face into a smile and gives a thumbs up.

Lando Norris takes an overly large bite and Charles has to pound on his back as he chokes it down.

Esteban Ocon discreetly spits his cupcake into a napkin when you’re not looking. Charles lunges forward and grabs his arm, squeezing tightly until Esteban wheezes out “Delicious!”

You remain blissfully unaware of the chaos that falls over the paddock in your wake, oblivious to Charles’ desperate interventions. All you see are your friends and acquaintances enjoying your baking.

When you finally offer a cupcake to Charles, he takes it and eats the whole thing without hesitation. Because even if it tastes like sugary sawdust, the delight on your face makes it the best treat in the world.

“Wasn’t that fun?” You gush to Charles afterwards. “I can’t wait to try out a new recipe soon!”

Charles just kisses your frosting-smudged nose and says, “I can’t wait either, mon amour.” As long as you’re happy, he’ll choke down all the questionable cupcakes you offer. Because your smile is the only thing that matters.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you and Charles arrive for the next race weekend, yet another batch of fresh baked goods in hand. You’re eager to share your latest creations — classic chocolate chunk cookies. You spent hours carefully following the recipe, determined to get them just right.

As you make your rounds distributing cookies, the reactions are the usual mix of forced smiles and discreet spitting. Charles trails behind you, glaring at anyone who doesn’t immediately rave about how delicious they are. The drivers and mechanics quickly catch on, showering you with praise and shooting Charles grateful looks when he turns you away.

You finally offer a cookie to Graham, a mechanic from the Mercedes team. He takes it hesitantly, eyeing Charles standing behind you. But Graham is new to the paddock and unaware of the baked goods situation.

He takes a bite and immediately grimaces. “Ugh, these taste terrible!” He blurts out.

You gasp, stumbling back as if struck. Tears well up in your eyes. Charles is at your side in an instant, pulling you into a comforting hug. Over your shoulder, he shoots Graham a look of absolute rage.

Graham realizes his mistake too late, shame washing over his face. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean ...” he stammers. But you’re already pulling away from Charles and rushing off, sobbing.

Charles turns on Graham, eyes blazing. “How could you? All she ever wants to do is make others happy!” Graham cowers before him, other mechanics backing away nervously.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Graham says miserably.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Charles snarls. “You stay away from her, you hear me?” Graham nods shakily. Satisfied the message is received, Charles races after you.

He finds you behind the garage, face buried in your hands. “Oh mon ange,” Charles murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “Don’t listen to him, your cookies are perfect.”

You cling to Charles, sniffling. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. But I’m so horrible at baking!”

Charles tilts your chin up. “You listen to me. You have the biggest, kindest heart. It doesn’t matter if the cookies are a little, er, overdone. What matters is you put love into making them. Don’t let someone like Graham get you down.”

You smile tremulously. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

Charles grins. “Hmm, I don’t mind hearing it again.” Laughing through your tears, you tell him again, punctuating it with a kiss.

After ensuring you’re okay, Charles seeks out Graham. “I trust you’ll be more considerate going forward?” Graham nods meekly. “Good. But just so we’re clear, if you upset her again, you’ll be out of this paddock for good.”

The next day, the news breaks that Graham has been dismissed from the Mercedes team for “attitude issues.” You feel a bit guilty, hoping your cookies didn’t cause him to lose his job. But Charles seems strangely satisfied, so you don’t dwell on it.

From then on, Charles redoubles his efforts to protect your feelings whenever you provide baked goods. The paddock falls in line, fawning over your overly salty pretzels and dry banana bread.

The brightness of your smile makes it all worth it to Charles. Because keeping that joy and kindness shining in you is what matters most to him.

***

You step out of Charles’ Ferrari, the engine purring as he puts it in park. Taking his hand, you smile excitedly — today is another fan meetup organized by the team, and you can’t wait to connect with Charles’ supporters again.

“Are you ready, mon cœur?” Charles asks, squeezing your hand gently. His green eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you adoringly.

“Absolutely!” You chirp, patting the large picnic basket hanging off your arm. “I made lots of treats to share today!”

Charles grins and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sure they will love everything you made, as always.”

You beam, bolstered by his encouragement as you both make your way to the event. The meetup is being held in a local park, with tents and tables set up amongst the lush green grass and towering trees. You spot a long line of fans waiting eagerly for Charles’ arrival. Most are dressed in the familiar rosso corsa of Ferrari, holding posters and memorabilia for him to sign.

“Charles! Charles!” They chant excitedly when they see him. You hang back happily, letting him have his moment with his dedicated supporters. Charles takes selfies, signs autographs, and chats animatedly in Italian, French, and English. The fans are thrilled to interact with their racing idol.

After some time, Charles waves you over. “I would like you all to meet someone very special to me,” he announces, wrapping an arm around you. The fans erupt into cheers and applause. “This is Y/N, my love.”

You blush at the attention but manage to give a little wave. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to be here today.”

Charles addresses the crowd again. “As some of you know, Y/N loves to bake and has brought some special treats to share with you all today.”

This is met with more enthusiastic cheers. Though none of them particularly enjoy your baked goods, the fans appreciate the effort and know Charles likes to reward them for humoring you.

You open up your large picnic basket, beaming with pride. “I made my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies, some lemon squares, and my famous rocky road fudge!”

The fans try not to visibly cringe, lining up politely with plates held out. You happily distribute your overly dry, burnt cookies and gooey, cloying fudge. The lemon squares are mushy and saccharine. But the fans accept it all with smiles and encouragement.

“Mmm, delicious!” One teenage girl forces out through a mouthful of your fudge.

An older man gives you a thumbs up as he chokes down a cookie, eyes watering. “So good!”

You beam, pleased that they enjoy your baking so much. As you chat with each person, you don’t notice Charles discreetly handing out autographed photos, caps, and other prized memorabilia to reward the fans for their efforts.

After you’ve handed out all your baked goods, Charles suggests a stroll through the park gardens. As you walk hand-in-hand admiring the flowers, he says softly, “You have such a big heart, Y/N. The way you care so much about connecting with the fans means the world to me.”

You squeeze his hand gratefully. “It’s the least I can do — they support you in everything, so I want to support them too.”

Charles stops and turns to you, his expression tender. “You are amazing, truly. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your heart flutters just like the first time your lips met.

When you return from your walk, the event is winding down. You say goodbye to the fans, who thank you profusely for the treats and making their day so special. You tell them you can’t wait to bake for them again soon!

After the last fan leaves, it’s just you and Charles. The late afternoon sun casts golden light on the empty picnic tables.

“Did you have fun, mon amour?” Charles asks, caressing your cheek.

“The best time!” You say enthusiastically. “I just love baking for your wonderful fans and seeing how it makes them smile.”

Charles’ eyes are full of love. He kisses the top of your head. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

You snuggle into his chest happily. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“I don’t think so,” Charles teases. “Why don’t you remind me again?”

You grin up at him. “I’ll tell you over dinner … I have a new donut recipe I want to try out.”

Charles fights down a grimace as he reminds himself that your love is more than worth suffering through another dreadful dessert. “I can’t wait!”

***

“Mate, you have to stop her before she poisons someone,” Max whispers urgently to Charles as you step out of the room.

Charles furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. Her baking. It’s … it’s just terrible. I’m sorry, but it has to be said.”

Charles lets out a dismissive chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Max raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I chipped a tooth on her brownie last week!”

Charles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he avoids making eye contact.

“Look, I get that you don’t want to upset her,” Max continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “But we can’t keep lying and pretending it’s good! One of these days, someone is going to end up in the hospital.”

Charles sighs deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want me to do? If I tell her the truth, she’ll be devastated.”

You return to the room then, a bright smile on your face as you carry a plate of freshly baked apple tarts. “Who wants one?”

Max cringes almost imperceptibly while Charles shoots him a warning look. “They look great, ma belle!” He says with forced enthusiasm, taking one and bringing it to his lips.

The apple filling is gelatinous and tastes faintly of soap. Charles forces himself to swallow it with a strained smile. Max quickly declines when you offer him one.

Later that evening, Charles finds Max alone outside his apartment building. “I need your help,” he admits defeatedly.

Max looks at him expectantly.

“With Y/N’s baking … how do I get her to stop without completely crushing her?”

His friend contemplates this for a moment. “Well … you could try convincing her to take up a new hobby instead?”

Charles shakes his head. “I’ve suggested that before, but she’s dead set on baking. It’s her biggest passion.”

“Okay, then you’ll have to take a different approach.” Max strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if … you told her a bunch of us were going vegan or something, so she couldn’t bake for us anymore?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but then slowly nods. “You know, that could actually work …”

The next day, you eagerly bring a fresh batch of blueberry muffins to the paddock to share with everyone. Charles takes a deep breath before pulling you aside gently.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He starts, trying to keep his expression neutral.

You blink up at him curiously. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well …” He clears his throat. “I was talking to the guys and … Lewis has actually convinced a bunch of them to go vegan. Lando, Max …”

He lists off a dozen more names, watching as realization dawns on your face. Your shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh … I see.” You glance down at the muffins in your hands. “I guess that means I can’t really bake for them anymore.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt at the disappointment in your eyes. But then, your expression brightens again.

“I’ll just have to start baking vegan treats instead!” You declare happily. “This is so exciting, I’ve been wanting to experiment with more plant-based ingredients!”

Charles’s shoulders tense as the plan epically backfires. Of course you’d take this as an opportunity to bake even more.

Over the next few weeks, you gleefully embrace the vegan baking lifestyle. Charles has to smother his laughter when Max nearly chokes biting into one of your “chewy” vegan brownies. Lando spits out a mouthful of your gritty vegan chocolate cake when you’re not looking.

You, however, remain blissfully unaware of how dreadful your creations are. No matter how many hints Charles tries to drop, the problem only seems to be getting worse.

One evening, you set a plate of fresh-from-the-oven vegan peanut butter cookies on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch next to Charles with a proud grin.

“Try one!” You insist, picking a cookie up and holding it in front of his lips.

Charles hesitates for just a second too long. Your face falls and he scrambles to take a bite, barely suppressing a wince as he chews on what feels like a solid lump of chalk mixed with peanut shavings. He forces himself to swallow it down with an enthusiastic grin.

“Wow, these are incredible!” He lies through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

You perk up immediately, the dejected look vanishing. “You really think so? I tried a new recipe I found online.”

“Definitely a winner,” Charles affirms, trying his best to sound convincing. “We should bring some to the paddock for everyone to try.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion and guilt twists in Charles’s gut. The last thing he wants is for the other drivers to have to suffer through these … confections. But he could never be the one to shatter your baking dreams.

The next day at the track, you eagerly pass around the plate of peanut butter hockey pucks to the drivers and crew. Charles discreetly pulls Max aside with a pained look.

“Please, I’m begging you …” he murmurs under his breath. “Just smile and nod, no matter how bad they are.”

Max grimaces as he takes an experimental bite of one of the cookies, his expression doing little to mask his revulsion. But he meets Charles’s pleading gaze and forces out a strangled, “Mmm … great!”

One by one, the others follow suit — fake smiles and strained praises as they choke down your baked atrocities. You remain obliviously pleased, unaware of their suffering.

Over the next few weeks, the vegan baking experiments only seem to get worse and worse. The paddock has become a silent circle of culinary martyrs — all sworn to an unspoken code to preserve your feelings at all costs.

You proudly present a tray of charcoal-colored muffins that leave the entire garage coughing from the plume of burnt flour. “Tried a new recipe for dark chocolate avocado muffins!” You explain brightly.

“Can’t wait to dig in,” Lando is close to crying, his eyes already watering.

Charles has to bite back a laugh as Max takes a heroic bite, barely managing to keep it together. He pats the Dutchman on the back firmly as the poor guy fights back a gag reflex.

“Two more words about her baking and you’ll be racing with three wheels next season,” he warns Carlos in a low mutter after witnessing the Spaniard nearly vomit up a slice of your “moist” vegan zucchini bread.

The sheer willpower it takes for the entire crew to maintain the facade is almost impressive. Technique and strategy meetings have now become immense displays of unspoken fortitude — everyone driven by the simple goal of not letting you catch on that your baked goods are, in fact, completely inedible.

Charles has started bringing backup protein bars and shakes to every race just to make sure nobody accidentally lapses into baked good-induced delirium.

He really has no idea how much longer this can possibly be sustained. But he also has no idea how to safely extract the situation without demolishing your passion and self-confidence in the process.

For now, his main objective is to ensure your bright smile and cheerfulness remain unchanged — no matter how many mouths he has to personally silence to make that happen.

At the end of the day, having you by his side, radiating that infectious joy and following your heart’s desire, is worth enduring all the subpar vegan muffins in the world.

He’ll take a bite of your latest abomination with an adoring grin, because that’s what partners who truly love each other do — they support each other through the good, the bad, and the burnt-to-a-crisp.

***

It’s the start of a new season, and Charles has been racking his brain for a solution to the ongoing baking saga. As much as he loves indulging your passion, the charade is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The entire paddock is at their wits’ end trying to choke down your vegan torture devices week after week.

That’s when he has an idea — one he hopes will be a win-win for everyone involved.

“Surprise!” He says with an excited grin, presenting you with the envelopes. “I got us signed up for this baking course. I thought it could be fun for us to take some classes together!”

You’re beaming as you throw your arms around his neck. “That’s such a thoughtful idea! I would love nothing more.”

Of course, Charles being Charles is hardly fully forthright about his motivations. “To be honest, I’m the one who really needs the help,” he fibs sheepishly. “We all know I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But with your talents guiding me, maybe there’s hope!”

Over the next few weeks, you and Charles diligently show up for your baking classes. The instructor walks you through fundamentals like properly measuring ingredients, controlling oven temperatures, and mastering technical skills. Slowly but surely, your creations start emerging looking (and smelling) better and better.

One evening, you return home with a fresh tray of beautifully baked chocolate chip cookies — the first delicacy you’ve felt confident enough to bake since the lessons. You present them to Charles with bated breath.

He takes one tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. These are actually ... edible! More than edible — they are legitimately delicious! The dough-to-chip ratio is perfect, the texture is chewy but not dry or crumbly. He quickly stuffs two more into his mouth with an appreciative moan.

“Ma belle … these are incredible!” He gasps out between bites.

You clap your hands over your mouth, eyes shining with glee. “Oh my gosh, you really think so? I was so nervous!”

“Are you kidding? I could eat this entire tray all by myself!”

The two of you dissolve into celebratory laughter and hugs, the sweet taste of success quite literally on your tongues.

“I think it’s time for the real taste test,” you declare one day, rolling up your sleeves as you start prepping an array of fresh baked goods. “We’re taking these bad boys to the paddock!”

The next race weekend, you stride in carrying bakery boxes of your fresh chocolate chip cookies as well as some decadent fudge brownies.

“Fresh out of the oven!” You announce proudly, setting them down with a bright grin. “Who’s hungry?”

For a long beat, nobody moves. The drivers exchange wary glances, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they recall the many baking debacles of the past. Lando bravely reaches for a brownie first, his face scrunched up preemptively-

Only to blink in surprise as the rich, fudgy flavor hits his taste buds. His eyes widen comically as he takes another bite. “Bloody hell ... this is actually good!”

The words seem to shatter the suspended tension. Soon the entire paddock is swarming the trays, devouring the fresh baked goods with delight. Charles watches on in disbelief, his own taste buds experiencing flavors he didn’t even know were possible from your former creations.

He sees Max take a bite of one of the cookies, freezing in place as his eyes slip closed with an expression of pure bliss. When they open again, Charles is alarmed to see they’re glistening with unshed tears.

The Dutchman wordlessly holds up the cookie, gazing at Charles reverently as a lone tear trails down his cheek. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he brings the baked good to his lips and takes another sensual bite, savoring it like it’s the first good thing he’s ever tasted.

From then on, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The paddock that once dreaded your baking now seemingly can’t get enough of it. Every race weekend, they await your fresh creations with unrestrained enthusiasm, like kids on a sugar bender.

Charles has lost count of how many times he’s caught drivers and crew sneaking off to wherever you’re prepping the latest batch, nostrils flaring as they try to scout out that heavenly aroma.

It’s gotten to the point where Max’s performance coach has had to implement strict rules about his treat consumption to prevent indulgences from derailing his season.

“Easy there, Max!” Rupert calls in a booming tone, swooping in to physically restrain the Dutchman as he makes a mad dash toward where you’re unpacking that week’s fresh delivery. “You know you have a limit on those.”

Max strains against his performance coach’s grip, eyes zeroing in on the platter of goodies being unloaded with unrestrained longing. “I don’t care, she brought triple chocolate cookie dough brownies this time! Let me go!”

Rupert grunts in exertion, struggling to keep his driver in check. “This is for your own good! Think of your diet!”

“That’s irrelevant!” Max practically snarls, pupils blown wide like an addict suffering from withdrawals. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to have real baked goods again?”

It’s a battle of wills and metabolism that quickly becomes a weekly sight. Charles can’t help but chuckle fondly as he watches Max and Rupert’s familiar tug-of-war happen like clockwork every Sunday.

As much as he’d love to intervene, he knows better than to come between Max and your heavenly baked creations. He’s just thrilled that this baking journey took such a delicious turn — both for your invigorated culinary passion and for the safety of everyone’s tastebuds.

Honestly, he’ll take the sight of a feverish Max drooling over freshly baked goods any day over having to choke down burnt muffins and brittle biscuits. This is the sweet upgrade everyone had been dreaming about.

The true recipe for happiness was sticking by each other’s side through all those halfbaked stumbles.

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donatellawritings · 28 days

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Would you ever do a part 2 to sweetheart reader and rafe’s breakup? I wanna see how they get back together 🥰

it had been about three months, since rafe had let you go, his oh-so doting sweetheart, the apple of his very eye. with the news of rafe cameron no longer having his latin sweetheart under his arm spreading around the island like a rancid wildfire, it didn’t take long for rafe to find himself regretting his decision. but make no mistake, rafe had made it his business to keep a watchful eye on your every move, and making sure to remain undetected while doing so. i mean, at the end of the day, you would always be his sweet girl and what kind of a man would he be, if he didn’t watch over you.

and sure, it took you a few weeks to find your footing as a now single and absolute knockout of a woman, yet you stood your ground — remaining tooth-achingly sweet to everyone who came your way, even when you’d politely reject their shameless advances towards you. and boy, did you make rafe’s sick little heart swell with pride as you made sure to keep a piece of him around you at all times, your gifted tiffany & co tennis bracelet constantly glinting against the north carolina sun with each passing day.

but, you were always such an emotional and overly-sensitive doll — and today just happened to be one of those days where you couldn’t seem to get your papi, rafe out of your pretty little head.

“i just — i want him with me!” you sobbed, streaky and watery black tinged tears rolling down your blush and concealer-enhanced cheeks as you pursed your puffy lips into a tearful pout, “he’s supposed to be mine!” you whined, your swollen tits stretching and heaving against rafe’s prized collegiate t-shirt as you took hiccuping breaths.

you poor cousin, kiara could only take so much of your incessant sobs and heartfelt rambles, until she’d taken the liberty of personally contacting rafe, a task that she wouldn’t even dream of doing, if it were for any person, aside from you, her doting and oh-so lovesick cousin.

you see, today was supposed to be a simple sleepover, the two of you had made it a tradition to spend one night together, where you could catch up on the latest gossip, prance around in nothing but pathetically poor excuses for panties and oversized t-shirts, while pampering each other with messily applied clay face masks and smeared mani-pedis. and sure, kiara missed those cherished moments with you, but she was painfully aware that you had been keeping up a facade since the moment rafe brought you back home. and she had to give you credit for it, you made it a point to keep your cool in public, you didn’t want to be a bother so you maintained your doll-like appearance and poise mannerisms.

yet, she couldn’t ignore the way you cried yourself to sleep at night — the walls that separated your bedrooms were far too thin.

it didn’t take long for rafe to respond to your concerned cousin — and it was crystal clear to him that it was time to bring you back home. the anxious young man had paid his dues, hell, the pain of not having you around was nearly enough to have him cave after the first twenty-four hours of him breaking things off. but, he had to make good on his promise — he had to become a man, not only for you, but for the sake of his own sanity, or what was left of it.

after about fifteen minutes of you struggling to put together a coherent sentence, you rubbed the tip of your button nose, with a defeated sniffle, licking over you dried lips as you wiped your watery bambi eyes with the back of your hand. you had cried yourself to exhaustion, your pretty little head throbbing from your hysterics as you dozed into a light sleep. you were so out of it, you didn’t even realize that kiara had left your bedroom.

rafe was careful with his footsteps as he entered your bedroom, dressed in a crisp button-up and ironed slacks as he sighed at the sight of you sound asleep. his bright blues didn’t miss the streaks of dried tears that clung to your cherub cheeks, your swollen lips slightly parted as crouched at your bedside, a soft smile on his pink lips as he ran a gentle hand over your messy hair.

letting his greed get the best of him, rafe pressed his eager lips to the apple of your cheek, his fingernails lightly scratching at your scalp as he soothingly lulled you out of your sleep, “hi, baby,” he mumbled, loud enough for your doe eyes to widen as your lips pursed into a wobbly pout, warm tears burning at your waterline.

bringing your small hand to knuckle away the troublesome tears that threatened to spill, you let out a needy whimper, “m-missed you,” you mewled, wispy lashes now clumpy with tears.

“hey-hey, c’mon mama, please don’t start cryin’,” rafe breathes out, pulling your hands away from your flushed face as the two of you finally lock eyes for the first time in months, “fuck — m’so sorry, my princess,” rafe sighs, each and every ounce of his resolve dissipating as he brings your knuckles to his lips, peppering soft kisses to the bony skin.

biting down into the fat of your bottom lip, you leaned up towards rafe, nudging his nose with yours, “can we go home,” you mutter, allowing your palms to cradle both sides of rafe’s chiseled face as his hold on your fists drop to your wrists, “w-we can talk about everything later, i just- i just missed you, papi,” you assure rafe, a soft smile tugging on your lips as he raises his glazed eyes to meet yours.

“yes, baby, we can go home,” rafe’s shoulders soften, his forehead leaning flushed against yours as he lets out a shaky breath, “i kept my promise, baby — i kept my promise,” he speaks, more so to himself than to you as you nod at his words.

rafe deserved to be heard, and you’d always be a listening ear for him.

“i stopped using, a-and i got that boat y’liked so much, i got it just for you, mama — gonna take you wherever y’wanna go,” rafe rambles, leaving you a smiley mess as you simply gaze into his eyes with nothing, but naive love and adoration, “m’gonna be home more, and i—” rafe continued, getting lost in his own thoughts.

“i love you,” you cut in, a giddy smile now playing on your pretty face as rafe can’t help but blush at your words.

“i love you too, let’s go home,” rafe brings his lips to your forehead, allowing his tired eyes to flutter close as he soaks in the kiss for a moment, taking the time to breathe in your smell.

bringing your legs to hook around his waist, rafe keeps a secure hand over your ass as he carries you out of your bedroom, making sure to send kiara an appreciative nod as the two of you exit the home. it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep, once you were secure in the passenger seat of rafe’s truck, soft snores leaving your parted lips as your soft cheek remained mushed against rafe’s firm shoulder, your hand securely interlaced with his.

rafe couldn’t ignore the way his eyes kept flickering down to your empty ring finger, his heart swelling at the mere thought of him finally having you all to himself, forever.

and he wouldn’t fuck it up, this time.

#asks #anon #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #sweetheart!reader

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lancermylove · 2 months

Text

Only in a Towel Reversed (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demon brothers x gn!Reader

Warning: Suggestive.

Prompt: They walk into your room and see you fresh out of the shower in a towel.

A/N: Here is the flipped version (with the demons in a towel).

———————————————

Lucifer

Lucifer came to your room to discuss the upcoming event. While he knocked, you didn't respond, so he opened the door and invited himself in. Lucifer assumed you were not home but wanted to confirm. But the second he saw you fresh out of the shower with only a towel around your body, he froze.

He quickly averted his gaze and somehow managed to maintain his composure. But if you squinted, you could have seen his slightly flushed cheeks.

Lucifer politely excused himself and speed-walked out of your room, but the image of you in a towel lingered in his mind longer than he wanted.

Mammon

Mammon burst into your room without knocking to show you his latest treasure but stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the breathtaking sight of you.

Mammon stared for a while until he realized he was doing something inappropriate and stuttered a sorry. His cheeks got redder and redder.

As he turned to run out of the room, he nearly ran into the door and lost his balance. But the demon was determined to get away from there before his mind started to create scenes that would cause him discomfort.

Levi

His new figurine had just arrived, and he was excited to show you. But Levi forgot to knock and waltzed right in to find you in a short blue towel. His steps screeched to a halt as he stared at you with a completely blank mind.

His face went beet red when his mind finally registered what he was seeing. Levi squeaked an apology before bolting out of the room.

He spent the rest of the day curled up in his bathtub bed, trying to get the tempting image out of his mind. Now, how was he supposed to face you without automatically mentally seeing you in a towel?

Satan

Satan wanted to tell you about a new cat that he saw in Devildom and show you all the pictures he took; instead, he stood frozen in the doorway with his jaw dropped and eyes wide. His cheeks looked like tomatoes.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor, which was getting harder by the minute. But not as hard as keeping his eyes away from your fairly exposed skin.

Satan offered a polite apology and hurried out of your room. He completely forgot about the new cat and spent the entire day trying to force his mind to not think about you in a towel - out of respect for you, of course.

Asmo

Asmo entered your room to talk about his new modeling project and fan about some cute demons he saw earlier. But he wasn't expecting you to be fresh out of the shower, standing in the middle of your room like you were looking for attention.

He gasped dramatically and covered his eyes with his hands. But a moment later, he parted his center and ring finger to take a peek at you, which you were completely prepared for.

Asmo complimented your appearance before giggling and gracefully leaving. That was a beautiful sight that we would not forget for a LONG time.

Beel

He came to ask if you had any snacks that you were willing to give to him but didn't expect you to look like a snack. Uh, you totally didn't see him licking his lips unintentionally.

Averting his eyes, he blushed furiously, stammered out an apology, and promised to return later. He turned around and practically ran out of your room.

His appetite for food lessened, and Beel suddenly craved something else.

Belphie

Belphie lazily walked into your bedroom to take a nap with you or near you. Due to this sleepy state, he didn't think to knock. ANd he also didn't expect you to be in the middle of the room standing in a towel. Suddenly, he felt wide awake.

He grumbled a half-hearted apology with pink cheeks, before walking out of your room.

Belphie pretended that he hadn't seen anything and used his sleepy state as an excuse. But in reality, the image of you in a towel replayed on a loop in his mind.

———————————————

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navybrat817 · 4 months

Text

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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ozzgin · 3 months

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Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)."

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock.

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message.

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

"There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days.

You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows.

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?"

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window.

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?"

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied:

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake.

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused.

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else."

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing.

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat.

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport.

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks.

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society.

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation.

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly.

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail."

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary.

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment?

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously.

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology.

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa.

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport.

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead.

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment.

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans.

Just you."

#yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere robot #yandere android #robot x human #android x reader #robot x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere imagine #yandere fic

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lok-shakti · 1 year

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जरा, एक शेर बोल दीजिए... CM योगी ने विपक्ष के सवालों से घिरे सुरेश खन्ना से धीरे से कहा तो खिलखिलाया पूरा सदन

जरा, एक शेर बोल दीजिए… CM योगी ने विपक्ष के सवालों से घिरे सुरेश खन्ना से धीरे से कहा तो खिलखिलाया पूरा सदन

लखनऊ: उत्तर प्रदेश विधानसभा सत्र के शीतकालीन सत्र के दौरान हल्का-फुल्का माहौल भी देखने को मिला। अनुपूरक बजट पर चर्चा के दौरान कैबिनेट मंत्री सुरेश खन्ना ने विपक्षी दल को जवाब देते हुए शेर सुना दिया। भाषण दे रहे सुरेश खन्ना विपक्षियों को जवाब दे ही रहे थे कि उनके बगल में बैठे मुख्यमंत्री योगी आदित्यनाथ (Yogi Adityanath) ने मुस्कुराते हुए धीरे से कहा कि अरे जरा एक शेर बोल दीजिए। सुरेश खन्ना ने…

View On WordPress

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killuintense · 4 months

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leon and his lazy touches !

it's usually quite common to be in that position with Leon when you're both in bed. after a long day of work, both on his part and yours, you both end up lazily lying in bed not wanting to do much, just with your social battery completely discharged looking for silent company with each other with your bodies glued together providing warmth to each other.

this was more common than it seemed: him on his cell phone scrolling through the latest news, or memes with really bad jokes that made him giggle, and you watching silly relaxing videos on your cell phone. every once in a while one of you would leave the silence and show the other the cell phone. "oh my god, look at this video..." you'd say, or he'd put the phone in front of your face while laughing like a fool at some meme he got from the most neglected social network on the internet (facebook, from a group of older wives, all complaining about their husbands) but apparently that was the epitome of comedy for your boyfriend. and you sometimes made fun of him, or laughed more because of that complicity he had with you to show you anything and bother you, hiding in your neck while you made fun of his poor taste for humor. sometimes he would pout falsely and you would let him, ending up letting go of your cell phone and placing it on your chest to gently cuddle his hair until he fell asleep.

sometimes he was too immersed reading news on his cell phone, any shit about the current politics of the country, or about news from all over the world about the rulings of justice and those things that he was already so used to but that, beyond that, was what he was dedicated to and interested in. that's why he didn't notice the little tricks he had when his mind was wandering in another dimension. like he inevitably sought to be the big spoon, at all costs. he would hog your whole body with his body sticking his chest to your back as you cowered and followed without paying much attention to him. sometimes his free hand is on your butt, he loves to squeeze something while he's focused on something else, and sometimes your butt became his favorite stim toy. when that stops being enough, he reaches for your boobs.

you giggle, it's quite tender because it's not a sexual touch, at least not at that moment, but he does need to fondle them, knead them, gently scratch the moldable skin of your breasts and that relaxes you, you're not going to lie. it even makes you let out soft giggles when he puts down his cell phone and starts his light chats of what you did in the day... and his hand is still there. almost like marking territory with gentle squeezes that you let be, you know that was something he loved and relaxed him, and in your eyes, he deserved every little thing from you, just as you did from him. you couldn't deny it, especially when he squeezed your chest again and again under your shirt making you laugh while he kept chattering about his job. only then did he realize it and apologize, but he blatantly kept his hand. "it's just that they're soft..." he excused himself, kissing your hair and sinking into it enthusiastically.

your whole body was his temple of rest, he couldn't simply rest in bed if he didn't have you by his side. it was no use if he couldn't touch you, feel you, kiss you every time he wanted to. there was no need for them to talk, each one would be in his own little world for a while, but that habit of having your body next to him he would love for the rest of his life. because thanks to you, he can rest.

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firstbytetv · 1 year

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babyleostuff · 23 days

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today was (not) a fairytale

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!mingyu x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k

. . . mingyu forgets about your anniversary

mingyu was a busy guy, that was obvious. but one thing he was never too busy for was you. it didn’t matter if it was just a can you couldn’t open, or a spider that had to be killed - mingyu was always there for you, no questions asked. to be honest, you could call him and tell him you wanted a hug, and he’d drop whatever he was doing just so he could trap you in a bear hug for the rest of the evening. that was how whipped he was.

and now he was late. two hours.

at first you thought something had happened - you texted some of the boys to ask if they knew where he was, you called his mom - you even checked the latest news, worried to see any updates about a car accident.

nothing.

sitting at an expensive restaurant full of people by yourself was humiliating enough, but what bothered you even more was that it was supposed to be your anniversary dinner. mingyu never missed any milestones of your relationship, he even bought you small gifts on the date you had your first kiss.

then it hit you - his location. quickly pulling your phone out of your bag, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

he was at seungcheol’s place.

not bothering to call your boyfriend - it wasn’t like he was answering any of your calls before, so why bother - you called the oldest boy, fiddling with your napkin that you wouldn’t be probably using tonight either way.

“hey, is everything okay?” seungcheol asked immediately. it wasn’t often that you called him, especially at such a late hour, so he figured something must have happened.

“is mingyu with you?” you heard some shuffling in the background, and noises that sounded a lot like your boyfriend and hoshi.

“um, yeah. you want me to pass him the phone?” you could clearly hear seungcheol’s confusion in his voice, but you weren’t in the “shitting rainbows and unicorns” mood, so you didn’t even bother with hiding your annoyance.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

you couldn’t believe he actually forgot about your anniversary. you had been planning this date for such a long time now. getting a reservation at this restaurant wasn’t easy, even mingyu had to pull a few strings and flash a couple of polite smiles, so you could come here on the exact day of your milestone. you prepared matching outfits for god’s sake. how could have he forgotten?

“tell him not to come back home tonight,” you said, and hung up the phone before seungcheol could say anything.

you spend the whole ride home trying to keep your tears from falling. you didn’t know what was worse - sitting in a restaurant for two hours waiting for someone who was over at his friend’s house drinking soju, or that the love of your life forgot about something so important.

the second you got inside your apartment you practically ripped off the dress you were wearing, suddenly almost disgusted by the feel of it on your skin. your shoes joined soon after, and not even five minutes after getting back home you got changed into PJs (for once not being mingyu’s shirt), and poured yourself a glass of wine.

“happy anniversary i quess.”

when you were about to turn off all of the lights in the living room for the night, you heard the door open and close with much more force than needed.

“baby? baby, where ar-,” he emerged from around the corner, stopping right in front of you. you took in his form - hair tousled from the wind, his shirt from practice still on, and shoes on his feet, which never happened - mingyu never wore shoes inside the house. huh, he must’ve been in a real hurry to get here.

“i’m so sorry, i got here as quickly as possible,” he said, a little out of breath. you had to stop the urge to laugh in his face because what the hell?

“too bad you didn’t bother to show up where you really were supposed to be, mingyu,” you snickered, anger radiating off of you. your boyfriend knew he was in deep shit the second seungcheol shot him a worried look, and how he would make it up to you, he had no idea.

“i know, baby-,”

“don’t call me that. you don’t deserve it mingyu,” you pointed a finger at his chest. just then he noticed you got your nails done to match the design on his tie, and he could swear he died a little bit at that moment. “do you have any idea how humiliated i felt sitting there like an idiot, waiting for my fucking boyfriend who decided to go out with his friends on our anniversary?”

“i called your friends, your family. i thought you got into an accident for fucks sake,” your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, as you finally felt something else than just anger. the thought of losing mingyu wasn’t something you wanted to think about on your anniversary night. “i was so excited for this, and you knew it,” you took in a shaky inhale, once again feeling the tears brimming in your eyes.

it took everything from you not to hug mingyu, he looked so… sad, and just so defeated, and that wasn’t something you were used to seeing on your boyfriend’s face.

“there are a thousand excuses on my mind right now, but none of them will excuse my behaviour,” he sighed, his lower lip trembling. please don't cry, please don’t cry. “i forgot,” he said, straightening his back a little. “i simply forgot, and nothing i do will make up for it.”

tears clouded your eyes, and you couldn’t help when they started falling down your cheeks, probably ruining the makeup you put so much effort into. if you knew you’d end up crying on your anniversary night you’d use a waterproof mascara. mingyu hesitantly raised his hand, as if he was afraid you’d run away from him, but when he saw you didn’t move an inch, he started wiping off the tears of your face with a gentle swipe of his thumb, almost as if you were about to fall apart.

“say something. no, yell at me,” he said, and put your hand against his chest. “you can even hit me,” mingyu said, pleading in his eyes. “please, just do something.”

“i don’t want to yell at you,” you sniffled, wiping off the rest of the tears yourself. “and i definitely don’t want to hit you. i just-,” you looked at him and only then noticed the dark circles under his eyes. did his face get slimmer too? “when was the last time you slept?”

he looked a bit taken aback by your question, considering he was begging you to hit him like a second ago. “to be honest, i don’t know, but i took some naps in the practice room. that’s not import-,”

“when was the last time you ate?” you interrupted him again.

his eyes softened because there was no way he just stood you up on one of the most important days of the year, and you were asking him about his well being. “i don't know.”

i don’t know. hearing those words from a person who inhaled food like a vacuum, and could never say no to a snack broke your heart. how did you not notice how exhausted he was before?

“oh, mingyu,” you said, tearing up again. “why didn’t you tell me, i would’ve brought you some food.”

“i know, but i didn’t want to burden you. i knew i’d be fine,” he said, voice gentle. “besides, that’s not important now. let’s talk about how big of an asshole i am,” he grabbed your face in both of his hands, tilting it more upwards.

“how can you say it’s not important?” you murmured, nuzzling your face further into his palm. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you without food for longer than an hour.”

“hey, i don’t eat that much,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, and seeing mingyu’s face lit up at your, albeit quiet, laughter, you felt the anger leaving you for good.

maybe you were too selfish? all you lived for for the past week was the date, but in the process you managed to somehow miss how exhausted your boyfriend was. yes, he did forget, but he was so overworked lately, you couldn’t really blame him, right? and it wasn’t like you were a saint either, you missed some dates in the past too.

“whatever you’re thinking, drop it,” he said sternly. “don’t try to make any excuses for me. i forgot, okay? it’s all my fault.”

technically you knew you had every right to be furious at him, hell - an hour you cursed him out with every curse word you knew, but maybe it wasn't the time to think straight, and just give the light of your life a second chance. “i don’t want to fight,” you said, wrapping your hands around his wrists. “and we still have,” you looked over at the clock, “two hours before midnight. we have the wine, and i think i have a pizza in the freezer.”

mingyu shook his head in disbelief. “there’s no way you’re real.” leaning in, he placed a peck on your cheek, filling your chest with a warm, fuzzy feeling. “you look beautiful by the way,” he whispered, and put his forehead against yours. “i’m really sorry.”

“i know, gyu. i know,” you whispered. “and mingyu?”

“yeah?”

“you can call me “baby” again.”

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