#i don’t want to be mean. i really don’t. but as Soon as i get overwhelmed that goes flying out the fucking window

[gojosprettyprincess]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI!

Tw - STEPCEST, cheating, age-gap(early 20s n early 40s), anal play, daddy/dad kink, oral, some really inappropriate and gross stuff. Stepcest isn’t blood related. Not proofread.

A/n - “Toji wouldn’t do th-“ I don’t give a shit, goodnight.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who secretly rubs your little pussy through your thin cotton panties from underneath the blanket while you're having a movie night with your family in the living room.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who tells your clueless mother that he’s taking you on a daddy-and-daughter bonding trip for a few days so the two of you can spend more time together and get to know each other more which only ends up with his hefty cock being stuffed deep into your innocent pussy— filling you up to the brim in some random hotel not too far from your house.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who instantly gets rock hard whenever you'd call him “dad” or “daddy”. He just can’t help when a sweet young thing like you is innocently batting your eyelashes up at him and asking him for his assistance. God, you’re so helpless, you can’t do anything without the help from your dad, not even cumming. :(

Which is why he has to sneak into your bedroom dead at night and skillfully poke his stepdaughter’s g-spot with his fat tip till you can finally cum and make a big mess on his cock.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who's obsessed with you sitting on his face, your warm dripping pussy nestled in his mouth while his eager tongue skillfully laps at the essence of your arousal from your glistening entrance. His nose presses into your rim purposefully, causing your adorable hole to wink against his nose in playful response to his inhales and breathing. He needs you on his face at least once a day :(

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who you coincidentally encounter in the bathroom, late at night while he’s pissing so that quickly escalated with his girthy cock now being shoved down your throat and he's thrusting it rhythmically in and out your mouth. Your eyes begin to well up with tears which only fuels him even more to use your mouth to his favor as he deviously grins down at you when he notices how you're helplessly playing with your drenched pussy with your fingers.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who gets off from being risky, especially when your mom is dozing off on the couch and he has you forcefully bent over the cold marble kitchen counter with one of his muscular hands pressed firmly against your lower back so you won't escape from his hold. His fat thumb is clogging your ass and his veiny cock is stretching your little pussy apart around his shaft while his angry tip is exploring the depths of your cunt.

He'd be such a mean man and force his thumb deeper and deeper into your asshole just so he can get a cute reaction from you and hear you whine while you desperately claw at his beefy forearm for him to stop :( He only chuckles and laughs at how scared you are as if you don't love it as much as he does.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who loves referring to himself as Daddy while he's balls deep into your slippery hole. Your trembling knees are knocking against your soft, bouncing tits and you're desperately gasping for air while your nails are sinking into his strong hand that's encircling your neck. "Shh shh c'mon be a good little step-kid f'daddy and take my cock". He whispers, trailing a thumb up to your glossy lips before inserting it into your mouth for you to suck on.

His cock is crammed into your tight pussy, and the way you keep sucking him in deeper and deeper every hazy second makes him not want to pull out anytime soon. He just can't get enough of your pussy. "That's it, that's baby, yer making daddy feel sooo good".

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who has developed a habit of sniffing your cunt and ass, he just can't help it :( he just loves your natural scent and can't get enough of you when he's bending down behind your small figure while you're engrossed in cooking dinner for the family and pulls your shorts down to bury his pointy nose in your moist pussy.

A plague of worries clouds your head when you feel his nose prodding into your tight entrance in the open. "T-toji! n-not here, she'll see!", you pleaded as you attempted to push his head away from your rear only for him to clasp both of your hands into his larger ones with just a chuckle rumbling against your cunny. soft whimpers escape your lips when you hear his loud whiffs of your pussy.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who loves nothing more than licking his step-daughter’s little pussy at any given chance he gets :(

It's so prohibited and “taboo” and the older man is very much aware of that but he just can't help it when he's quietly slipping into your bedroom late at night to run his salivating tongue over the sapping mound— He’s been practically thinking about it the entire day.

His clothed cock immediately starts twitching uncontrollably every time his grimy thoughts clouded his vivid imagination, all he could do at work was discreetly palm his hardened bulge and give it a hard squeeze for friction and temporary relief.

He barely could wait till everyone was asleep to taste your delicious pussy again.

A deep involuntary groan leaves his lips from the taste of your creamy pussy melting on his tastebuds. The sensation of the sticky slick clinging onto his tongue stirred a desperate throbbing in his cock, yearning for more. God, every fiber of his being ached to plunge his hard cockhead into your warm, virgin pussy and ravish you until you painted his shaft with your cream but he won't... at least not yet.

Luckily for him, you were sleeping on your stomach and the tranquility of your slumber allowed him to cautiously lower your adorable panties down, gently resting it at your lower thighs, and parted your plush cheeks using his thumbs to peek at your delicate pussy. The glossy sheen veiling your folds glistened in the dim light, making his fat cock throb with urgency.

“Fuck, so pretty” he whispered breathlessly, sticking his tongue out to lap at your messy folds, his tongue flickers back and forth, licking up at your wetness and replacing it with his spit and intertwining saliva. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t a heavy sleeper so the sensation of his soft, wet tongue wiggling against your most intimate place was enough to stir you awake.

Your eyelids flutter open weakly, giving way to the heavy fog of slumber that still clung to your countenance. Sleep is evident in your features as your tummy tingles from the continuous sensation of the stimulation. Your vision was clouded with fuzziness but you could still make out the muscular silhouette of your step-father.

He was huge and muscular, he wasn’t built like some ordinary man so there was no mistake that it was him.

“Daddy?”You mumbled innocently, rubbing your eyes in hopes of having a clearer view after.

“W-hat are you doing?”

“Shh shh, go back to sleep doll. Dad’s gonna take care of ya” he lightly chuckled before caressing your ass and placing a few wet kisses on your soft cheeks.

[pacofprunes]

THANOS & NAMGYU NONCON HEADCANONS

WARNINGS — noncon fucking everything, drugging, i mean it’s fucked up obviously, thanos & namgyu seperate headcanons

THANOS

never in a million years did he think he’d end up in a scenario like this. he’s had tiny thoughts of doing such things when he’s gotten rejected, but now that he’s actually doing it, oh he fucking loves it.

loves to manhandle you. holding your wrists tightly in one hand, forcing your legs around his neck, having the absolute tightest grip on your hair, he absolutely lives for it.

whispers sweet nothings into your ear like this is all normal. cooing at the tears spilling from your eyes.

“no need to cry, i’ll make ya’ feel realllll good.”

marks you up everywhere. hickeys, bites, bites that draw blood, marks and scratches on your hips from his grip on you when trying to keep you from getting away…

definitely slips a pill into your mouth when he kisses you, not pulling away until he knows you’ve swallowed it.

he would love to be able to make you ride him. holding your wrists behind your back while you bounce on him. if you refuse to do so however, he’ll take his other hand and grip your hair, pulling it up as high as possible so you have to make yourself move up to stop the pain and then he just pulls your hair right back down so you smack against his balls. after he’s done that a couple times, he’s sure you’ll decide to just bounce on him without his help.

he takes pictures and videos as a souvenir. presses a deep kiss against you and snaps a picture. he snaps a picture of you on top of him while he has the tightest grip on your wrists. films a slow video showcasing all of the marks littering your body before debating weather or not to post it to his highlights or his private story.

loves slapping your pussy and cupping it in his hands. it makes you flinch away from his dick and right back down on it, doing the work for him. makes his dick twitch so much.

occasionally he likes to let go and let you try to push him away, knowing all of your efforts will be futile. it makes him laugh. but don’t push him too much. if you hit him too hard, he might loose that playful fucked up persona and just be straight fucked up, quickly becoming insanely mean. if you slap him a little too hard on the face, oh, you better believe he’s slapping you ten times harder. and as soon as he’s done and the tears slip from your eyes, he cups the red spot on your cheek, giving you a pouty lip.

“baby, shouldn’t have hit me, don’t cry at something you did! you shouldn’t live with regrets.”

this won’t be a one time thing. in fact, he wants to be with you in a relationship. it’ll probably end after like three months until he misses the times like this and forces you back in him, but this is not the last time you’ll see him. he might even rent out a hotel for a week and force you to stay there with him within those days. he’ll let you leave after the weeks up and his moneys all out, but he’s still going to stay glued to your side. makes you introduce him to your parents like he’s this perfect boyfriend when really he’s made your life a living hell and you want nothing more than to get away from him. if you tell anybody what he’s doing, the next time that he takes a quick photo with his hands wrapped around your throat, he’ll be sure to keep them there instead of letting go. you won’t even get to tell your poor family goodbye.

NAMGYU

he doesn’t particularly have fantasies of doing shit like this, but he can’t handle rejection. he’s thinking of you the rest of the night, thinking about how much of a bitch you were for saying no to him and pushing him away, his friends teasing him and pissing him off even more causes him to go through and fuck you out of your mind weather you want him to or not.

he definitely drugs you. slipping a pill that he honestly barely knows what it is into your drink. the moment he notices you have a bit of a wobble in your step he pulls you away from everyone around, leaving you oh so vulnerable to him.

he has a hand on your mouth the entire time (or his dick in it.) he doesn’t feel like listening to you bitch.

loves seeing your tears and the fear in your eyes. he hopes he fucks you up for the rest of your life. hoping that if a guy you hate asks you out, you’ll think twice about rejecting them and saying no, remembering this moment.

he doesn’t feel like having to hold you down. he wants to press his hand into your hips while the other remains on your lips, so he just gives you a simple threat.

“there’s a knife in my back pocket, i’m sure you don’t want me to use it, right? right, so i’d suggest you don’t hit me or push me away and we’re all good.”

sure he knows with the drugs in your system that your hits will do no harm to him, but he doesn’t care. don’t piss him off and maybe you’ll live and give him another chance to do this to you. also, he probably doesn’t even have a knife in his back pocket, but you didn’t need to know that.

tauntingly licks every tear that rolls down your cheek and onto his hand as he slams his hips against you, sending a taunting smirk your way.

also takes pictures and videos as a little souvenir. shoves the camera all in your face, making sure the flash is on while he adds commentary in the back.

“look at this dirty slut cryin’ all over my dick,”

“pulled me away from my friends and begged me to fuck her brains out, ain’t that right?”

of course you couldn’t respond, but so what? he simply starts laughing when you try to shake your head no. but he easily puts an end to that as he presses his palm even harder against your face, practically putting all his weight on it, threatening to break a tooth to keep you from moving your head an inch. it makes you want to reach out and stop him by grabbing his arms, but what if he really had a knife in his pocket? he told you not to touch him…

he’s a dick usually because his friends are around and he wants to impress them, but now he’s a dick to prove something to himself, to prove something to you. if you had just said yes, he’s sure he would’ve been nicer, and he lets you know that, throwing all the blame onto you.

“this is your fault you know? i asked you nicely, but you just had to be a giant bitch about it. those tears ain’t for me, they’re for your stupid decisions.”

definitely chokes you as he starts to cum in you, the end of your assault nearing. you poor thing, still so scared he’s gonna kill you that the moment you reach your hands up to stop him, you let them droop back down to your sides. the drugs already clouded your vision, the choking just darkened it even more.

when he’s done he zips his pants up before pulling yours up and dragging you to stand. he pulls you back inside the club to where his friends were, pressing a kiss against your neck in front of them.

“just had the time of our lives, didn’t we baby?”

you just nod your head as well as you can, it getting heavier and heavier by the minute. bragging to his friends about how they clearly shouldn’t have doubted him. he throws you on a chair somewhere and goes about his night. if some other guy wanted to have a turn with you, he gave them all the tools they needed. wasn’t his problem any longer!

he expects that next time he sees you at a party (or somehow in public) and he asks to fuck, you won’t say no. don’t make it any harder than it needs to be.

[quarterlifekitty]

okok i havr a req for ljke a blurb and its kinda angsty but not really. can you maybe do like a reader asks the guys if they want kids and they react negitvly....but readers already pregant.....

You shrink a little next to Simon. He notices, but doesn’t prod. He never does. He waits for you to build up the courage, for your boldness to well up and spill over in a rare moment.

“Simon, do you ever think about having kids?”

It wasn’t a question he’d counted on coming from you for at least another few months, but he knew it was just a matter of time. Birds always ask about this kinda shite.

“Men like me ain’t fit to be fathers. Blood’s no good. Thing’d probably turn out just as rotten as me.” It’s not the most tactful answer, he knows. But he wants the topic left in no uncertain terms. Hope sours into resentment faster than wet strawberries mold in the fridge. A distant, self flagellating part of him wondered when he’d be forced to pick over the hallowed carcass of this relationship, try to salvage a few splintering bones and move on. 

You suck in a quick lungful of breath, expertly willing the tears to stay in their warm ducts. You’d done it a thousand times before you’d met Simon, and you’d probably do it a hundred thousand times more after he left you.

You’d met his captain, John Price, a handful of times. Spoken to him privately only once, in warning.

“Simon is a good man. One of the best. But I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to really give himself to someone else. He’s been through… more than most.”

You’d told yourself and him that that was fine. That you’d be happy with whatever small piece of him you could manage to get away with. That was before you realized how little of yourself you had to begin with. And suddenly he had all of it. What did that leave you with?

A pregnancy test double wrapped in paper towels before it’s thrown in the kitchen trash, as it happens. You’d heard once that people who believed they were in possession of haunted photographs would stuff them in layers of envelopes and wrap them in twine, which did nothing but help them feel better.

And as if he could smell the acrid blood brewing in the parasite inside you, Simon leaves soon after. What little he’d brought into your home is gone one day, wordlessly. You know him well enough to realize that if he wants to disappear, he will, and trying to chase him would be tantamount to falling into a grain silo– agonizing and tragic in a way that grants no closure.

You were by no means in a position to be a single mother. But you couldn’t bring yourself to give up the one piece of Simon you’d managed to keep.

[procrastiel]

You just proved my point. I never once said I agree with the Republicans, or that Trump “isn’t that bad”. Listening to someone with an open mind doesn’t mean you accept or excuse their behaviors. You can still arrive at the conclusion that they’re full of shit. What I’m saying is this: I may not agree with what you have to say, but I will fight for your right to say it. And that goes for you as well as Trump, even if I don’t like it. It’s not about me, it’s about respect, and free speech.

You can’t expect a fascist to accept you if you aren’t willing to accept their right to say whatever the fuck they want to say. Does that mean you shouldn’t fight for your rights? Absolutely not, quite the opposite! You should stand for what you believe in! Just like I stand for what I believe in. But turning people from “the other side” into monsters is a horrible idea. All nazis were humans, and if you understand that all humans have the capacity to do evil, then it will be a lot easier for you to spot the red flags.

Also, it is possible for people to change. Someone can go from conservative to democrat. And someone can move from a liberal perspective to a radicalized mindset. People’s opinions aren’t set in stone.

Listening to someone who hates you is never easy. I have experienced that, I know. But you still live on a planet with Trump et al. at the end of the day. If you’re saying that being civil is the wrong approach, then what would you suggest instead? Kill Trump? Stop talking to someone as soon as they mention a conservative or uneducated opinion like “I don’t see how a man can become a woman”? I see that as an opportunity for dialogue.

If someone was to kill Trump now, don’t you think that another guy will take his place immediately, and spew the same crap, like a hydra?

It sounds like you’re at the point where you think violence is the only answer, because the Republican agenda is aggressive. I agree that you have to meet a force with the same force. But I disagree with closing yourself off to other people’s opinions, just because they go against yours. That is the one of the first steps of fascism, as others have pointed out above.

Reading the beginning of the thread again, if it’s true that “art should be wholesome” is a sign of fascism, then so would be statements like “anyone can be trans even without transitioning” if you put yourself into the shoes of a conservative thinking person. The question is: what do you want to focus on? Do you want to focus on hating x group of people for their x beliefs or do you want to dismantle the premise of hate in general?

Hate begets hate. They hate you. If you hate them back, do you think they’ll stop hating you, or do you think they will hate you even more? I assume you can see how easily this way of thinking can lead to a war.

Also, listening to someone’s concerns underneath the hate they spew is important if you really want to make a difference. I absolutely respect your opinion, even if you are being rude about it.

There’s a great video that might help illustrate my point a bit better, but it’s 2 1/2h long. If you don’t have the time, it’s about a black man, Daryl Davis, who befriended a KKK member. And in the end? The white man left the KKK. But Daryl had to endure some intensely disrespectful behavior to get to that point.

And I’m afraid not a lot of people have the strength of character it takes to do that, and thus affect real change.

Compromise means that no one will be entirely satisfied, but also no one will be entirely left out.

it's true and you should say it.

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 3

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 3 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky.

a/n4: Also timelines? Never heard of them. This is set in 2024 but I’ve moved Miami to before Australia

a/n5: I’m pretending that the race schedule is known more then a year in advance so…

Part 1 Part 2

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,284,124 others

y/n: loving the tour, missing the simple days

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user1: never seen someone so fucking pretty

↳user2: absolutely jaw dropping

user3: adding several things to my bucket list

↳user4: same!

↳user5: I just want to add her cloths to my closet

not_oscar: this is gonna cause so much trouble oh my god y/n

↳not_y/n: 😂🤭😂😉

↳not_oscar: i give it minutes before those losers start posting vaguely similar photos…

↳not_logan: no bet dude. It’s gonna happen

alexandrasaintmleux: Tu es aussi magnifique que les œuvres d'art sur les murs. You're just as stunning as the art on the walls.

↳charles_leclerc: Comme tu l'as dit, mon amour. As you said, my love.

↳user6: bringing in reinforcements??

↳user7: well at least it’s not cheating now I guess 😂😂

pierregasly: On ne devrait jamais avoir à porter ses propres sacs pour faire ses courses! One should never have to carry their own bags when shopping!

↳francisca.cgomes: Je t'ai bien appris. I’ve taught you well.

↳user8: oh boy the desperation…

georgerussell63: what’s you current read? I’ve been looking for some recommendations!

↳user9: How Not to Flirt with Someone Not your Girlfriend and Dumbassery 101

↳user10: 😂😂

alex_albon: do you offer horse riding lessons?

↳user11: don’t…don’t you own a horse???

↳user12: I think the drivers have passed from desperate into just being sad…

landonorris: visiting New York soon — any suggestions?

↳user13: getting a life maybe?

georgerussell63

liked by carmenmmundt, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 1,283,123 others

georgerussell63: Love those London days

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user14: …so this is blatant y/n bait right?

↳user15: absolutely!

↳user16: I think my favorite part of the season so far is how fucking stupid these drivers turn in the face of y/n…

↳user17: it has been funny to watch

oscarpiastri: why are you posting London photos? We’re in Japan?

↳georgerussell63: its call a photo dump Oscar

↳oscarpiastri: I think it’s actually called stupidity…

↳not_logan: 😂😂 please continue to call them out

↳not_oscar: well someone has to and it’s obviously not gonna be you…

↳not_y/n: not yet at least…

↳not_logan: the next part of your plan??

↳not_y/n: 🤭

↳not_oscar: you mean to tell me you actually have a plan for this madness?!???

user18: call him out Oscar!

↳user19: fighting for his best friend really…

user20: you can tell these aren’t recent because it’s still FUCK ASS cold in London right now

↳user21: oh my god I didn’t even notice that…🤣🤣

sargeantnation

liked by not_y/n, user, user, and 834,244 others

sargeantnation: not the weekend that Logan wanted but boy did he look good while he was there

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user22: made it further than his teammate did…

↳user23: barely

user24: you’ll get it next week Logan!

user25: did you see the look on vowles’ face??

↳user26: he definitely need acting lessons

↳user25: right? Like dude can you try and act like you actually like both of your drivers?

↳user26: I fear for Logan…it took so long for his contract renewal and vowles all but said he would have gone with someone else if they were an option…

↳user25: do not even speak that into existence!!!

user27: such a let down after last week…

↳user28: not everyone is max verstappen!

↳user27: going from a podium to last place though…

↳user26: and remember how lackluster vowles congratulations were for it??

↳user25: 😬😬😬 not. good.

Private Messages

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, user2 and 1,928,223 others

pierregasly: Missing those summer days and beach dates 🩷

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user29: hmmmm…not liking this

↳user30: the blatant attempt to shoot his shot at y/n completely overlooking his gorgeous girlfriend? liked by francisca.cgomes

↳user29: yeah that 😂

oscarpiastri: this is…not it

↳pierregasly: you’re supposed to be Norris’ problem — not mine

↳oscarpiastri: I’ll be everyone’s problem

↳user31: show them how it’s done Oscar!

charles_leclerc: enjoying that sunset? 🌅

↳pierregasly: enjoying the company more 🩷

↳user32: hopefully it’s Kika!

y/n_nation

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad, and 11,124,135 others

y/n_gossip: Weeks into her tour, y/n has brought out multiple new outfits for her highly talked about Eras tour. Here’s a carousel of some our favorites!

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iamrebeccad: she could be a model…

↳carlossainz55: ¡Sabrías hermosa! You would know beautiful!

↳user33: girl go back to your actual boyfriend and leave y/n alone 😭😭

user34: is this a safe space? Can I say something?

↳user35: do it regardless

↳user34: I’m starting to believe user19…

↳user19: HAHA

↳user35: you summoned them

↳user34: brb putting on my clown hat 🤡

alexandrasaintmleux: Des couleurs si magnifiques ! Sur un magnifique modèle 💕 Such gorgeous colors! On a gorgeous model 💕

↳charles_leclerc: Presque aussi magnifique que toi. Almost as stunning as you.

↳user36: …👎🏻

user19: i have more proof for you people if that’s something that you need

↳user53: how??? Neither of them have posted anything even vaguely related to them being in a relationship

↳user19: after all this time you still doubt me??

↳user53: of course not but really?

↳user37: I’m gonna start my own crazy train — you guys are dating

↳user19: I’m gonna block you

↳user37: MORE PROOF

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly, user, and 2,145,924 others

charles_leclerc: I’m laughing on the car ride home with you ♥️

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user38: oh so now we’re blatantly quoting y/n’s songs now?

↳user39: well she’s been ignoring her apparently many boyfriends 😂

alexandrasaintmleux: Toujours, mon amour Always, my love

↳user40: girl he’s trying to cheat on you

this comment has been deleted

↳user41: anyone else catch that?

↳user40: 😑😑😑

oscarpiastri: oh it’s so good you and Alex are taking time together

↳not_y/n: thank you for your service 🫡

↳not_oscar: I expect something for this

↳not_y/n: summer break with me and Logan?

↳not_oscar: sure

↳user42: thank you king for your continued service

alex_albon: going shirtless? For free?

↳charles_leclerc: anything for the fans

↳alex_albon: is that what we’re calling it nowadays?

↳logansargeant: 😂😂

user43: user19 can you give us more proof please

↳user19: I WOULD LOVE TO

↳user53: please stop screaming

Bluesky

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,284,923 others

logansargeant: a full heart and a full living room

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user44: I need more photos of boyfriend Logan in my life

↳user48: I just need Logan as a boyfriend

not_y/n: 🥰🥰🥰 I love you so much Logan

↳not_logan: I love you too. More then I can ever say

oscarpiastri: thanks for the sleeping place

↳logansargeant: it’s always open for you

↳user19: ☝🏻☝🏻 LOVER CODED

alex_albon: when am I gonna get an introduction?

↳logansargeant: soon I promise — but she has a plan

↳alex_albon: can’t argue with that I guess 😂

↳logansargeant: oh I never argue with her…

↳user53: user19 they have a plan???

↳user19: well she’s a mastermind liked by logansargeant

user49: THATS NEW YORK, PARIS, LONDON

↳user19: I TOLF YOJ

↳user19: Welcome to New York, Paris, London Boy, and Lover! All in one post!

iamrebeccad

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, and 2,334,235 others

iamrebeccad: race dates and date dates 🩶

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carlossainz55: Chicas impresionantes! Stunning girls!

↳iamrebeccad: thank you my love

↳user50: 🤮

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user51: user12 was right…it didn’t take long at all for the wags to jump on the y/n train…

↳user12: ok but I am seeing a vision

↳user52: is the vision a Carlos-y/n-rebecca threesome? liked by carlossainz55, iamrebeccad

↳user12: yes it is

alexandrasaintmleux: lunch tomorrow?

↳iamrebeccad: sorry plans tomorrow! Day after?

↳alexandrasaintmleux: plans or plans 😂

↳iamrebeccad: plans

y/n_gossip

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 18,234,023 others

y/n_gossip: y/n and y/n_nation has been posting videos and teasers of these vaults — thoughts?

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user54: music video?

user55: merchandise? It’s been awhile since they’ve dropped anything new!

maxverstappen1: new music?

↳user56: car boy I know you’re used to being fast but we don’t demand new music around here

↳user57: we’re gonna have put together a pamphlet on how to act aren’t we…

↳user58: not a bad idea actually…

not_oscar: why do you keep doing this y/n???

↳not_y/n: sorry not sorry 😂

↳not_lilyz: ohhh new music??

↳not_y/n: yes!

↳not_lilyz: oh my god i can’t wait!

↳not_y/n: I’ll send some voice notes for you my love 🩵

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad, user and 1,192,469 others

alexandrasaintmleux: Voir l’art, c’est connaître l’amour. To see art is to know love.

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user59: stunning

↳user60: she really is

↳user61: can charles fight?

user12: user52 ok this or the other?

↳user52: definitely charles-y/n-alex liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: Alors j'ai été béni tous les jours. Then I’ve been blessed everyday

↳user63: i am begging at this point…

↳user64: no I get it 🤤🤤

↳user63: what? Eww no. I’m begging them to realize they’re promoting cheating…

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, williamsracing, and 923,824 others

logansargeant: Not how I expected Australia to go but we preserve — let’s go Alex!

comments have been limited on this post

alex_albon: thanks for the support!

↳logansargeant: of course!

oscarpiastri: mom said to plan on dinner at our place this weekend

↳logansargeant: yum!

y/n

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y/n: it’s time to open the vault — and release all the secrets. Tomorrow — 26 new tracks

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Private Messages

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby

[kaisaerinlover]

if you could describe kaiser in two words you would be forced to use the words mean and conniving, if you even dared to speak any bad about him that is. you darent even have a bad thought about him recently though, because he’s been ignoring you. he was so nice before? what happened? why doesn’t he like you anymore? is he too scared to break up? what’s going on?

kaiser can guess your thought process exactly, it’s funny really. funny how predictable and dense you are; it’s fine though. he doesn’t care, he likes you this way, panicky and anxious that he doesn’t like you anymore. he likes you a lot, that’s why he’s doing this, you know? after all, relationships don’t work for him unless he plays a little dirty with the other. manipulation is a staple of any relationship actually, or any sort of abuse. no one stays without toxicity, that’s not the way of the world. not the way of his world - and as far as he’s concerned, his world morphs into your world. when you choose to date him you unknowingly choose to abide by the laws of life he lived and continues to live by.

i mean, it’s not like he wants to ignore you (he does), it’s not like he wants to see how disgustingly despair filled you are every time he brushes you off like you’re nothing more than a stranger to him (he does), it’s not like he has a choice in any of this, he has to manipulate you, it’s just how life works (it’s not). if you were half as intellectual as he is, you would realise what he’s doing, but he thinks you should be thankful. thankful that he’s putting in this effort and going to these lengths just to ensure you won’t leave him anytime soon. he just loves you too much to let you go now. he let himself get attached to you, so this is your punishment. human emotions and attachments are the bane of his very existence, he hates them. he doesn’t like being so dependant on someone else, doesn’t like the way you affect him and his mood, hates feeling loved and hates knowing he has to give love in return; it’s difficult to learn after everything he’s experienced in life. this is your punishment for getting him so entranced with you. deal with it now, if you wanna date him this is what you get.

he’s a pretentious man, he won’t even label emotions as, well, just that: emotions. he labels them human emotions. he really thinks he’s way above them, knows himself as a god. but then again; it’s the opposite. he’s a subhuman piece of shit. what a complicated mind; any psychology student, therapist or simply just psychology interested freak would have a field day with him. but here he is instead with you. punishing you with his indifference for engraving yourself so deeply within his soul.

poor you, when he dismisses you the last time and goes to leave the house you break and cry. you cry like a baby, and he almost feels bad. only almost, not quite there yet, the face you make when you cry is quite beautiful, isn’t it? why does he do this to you? if he leaves you will he even come back? you can’t take it and you can’t risk it.

when kaiser feels you tug on his arm and hears your crying he smirks to himself before turning around. you’re easy; far too easy. he won. he turns around and stares at you, a stare so hard you swear it pierces right through you like a blade. “come on, d-don’t leave me-“ you somehow manage to sputter out between your arousing sobs. only a sicko like him could find something like this arousing, gross. his mask of nonchalance never slips though, what a crazy man he is, able to control and maintain everything; even his stimuli. control for the most part anyway. “hm?” he doesn’t even bother to give you a real worded answer, you’re not worth it are you?

kaiser is awfully good at mind games, he knows it, he’s enjoying playing with you. messing with your head, it’s even funner when he knows exactly what you’re thinking. you’re in shambles, to say the very least. all you can see in his eyes is contempt towards you. why is he leaving you? you don’t want that, is leaving you really so simple? so easy? such a mundane and effortless task? are you that unimportant he can disregard you and treat you like this without a second thought? is it because other girls are better? they have a knack for something that you just quite never grasped? how is that fair? he’s your whole world, hell you’re struggling right now with him being cold towards you for, in retrospect, a short amount of time. and he is yet to even bat an eyelash at the mistreatment he’s giving you.

his tone is brimming with derision when he opens his mouth next; “what are you talking about? dumb girl?” you feel so embarrassed, what does he mean? no, maybe he’s testing you, it’s a test isn’t it? to see if you’ll beg? you will, you would, you can, you’re going to, you’d do everything to ensure he stays. even if it’s degrading. dehumanising. even if anyone who found out how hard you begged for his love and affection would be disgusted with your desperation and drop you. you would do anything. “j-jus’ don’t leave me micha- i-i don’t even know what i did- please-“ you beg. and you plead. you’re so cute when you’re this desperate, playing right into his hands like putty. you’re priceless, adorable really. he has to put effort in to hide the smirk that wants to show on his face so badly. but then you say something that he’s heard a million times before. he’s heard you say it before too. but right now it pisses him off and makes him sick. makes him angry when you choke out through your tears a weak declaration of love.

“i l-love you-“ he hates it. he’s heard it so many times, from fans and empty headed fangirls, from you as well. but right now it makes him want to vomit. he’s angry, doesn’t know how to react to it in this situation. and it shows on his face. shows in his actions when he grabs you so roughly and smashes his lips into yours. when he pulls away, he’s looking into your eyes so deeply. you’re an idiot, you should know what loving him entails. he thinks you should shut your mouth. your admission made him feel guilty. god he wishes you’d just shut the fuck up; but his eyes are telling you differently. silently pleading for something he’s never allowed himself to want. and you can tell too, stupid as you are, you’re somehow able to read what he desires in the moment from his eyes alone. “micha i l-love you” you sputter out again. he licks his lips as he watches a tear roll down your cheek and feels his insides churn, flutter, disintegrate and whatever else as you confess to him again.

it’s rare, that he feels this way i mean, totally and utterly rare. he feels sickened at your words. filled with guilt. you really love him and he really loves you too, he can’t fathom why he insists on treating you in this way. he really can’t. and he can’t fathom why he feels so much guilt over it, because everything he does is for himself. he’s a self indulgent man; that’s why he’s even more confused when he instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear running down your cheek away. he lives for himself and to make himself feel alive, tending to you doesn’t exactly fit into the equation most of the time, so he’s not sure why is body is subconsciously moving to aid you. he’s not sure why he’s suddenly aching to comfort you. he’s not sure why he’s reconsidering what he did by now. manipulating isn’t nice, only an idiot doesn’t know that, and he’s no idiot. he’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet in your life.

and you, sweet you, you’re hardly a victim of this anymore. you’re letting it happen, sitting and letting him do whatever he wishes with you. you’re as disgusting as he is in a way. he might have you wrapped around his thumb; he might be a master of manipulation, but you’ve had so many chances to leave yet you haven’t. because you’re dumb deep down. dumber than what he takes you for. as he dotes on you in a manner that he perceives is against his free will, you instantly feel at ease and better. you forget everything bad he just did to you. forget the weeks you spent having to play guessing games to work out why he’s suddenly giving you the icy cold treatment, you give in to his whims and relish in the attention he’s suddenly showering you in. it’s not that you’re entirely lacking in self awareness, no, quite the opposite actually. you’re just convinced he’s not all that bad, that deep down he’s not mean at all, he’s not evil to the core. and as much as even he would like that to be true, he knows it’s not. he had a rough start in life, a rough childhood, a rough few years. he’s never had it easy - but he can’t pretend that he hasn’t had any chances to change.

as he strokes your hair and feels you lean into his touch, he ponders all of the opportunities handed to him on a platter to rebuild himself into something better. remembers how all he’s ever wanted is to be loved, yet he pushes away or straight up abuses the ones who adore him the most. in a weird self loathing way, but also a display of superiority, to show how everyone around him is disposable, how important he is compared to everybody else. he’s convinced he’s evil down to the very blood courses through him, every cell in his body, and you’re convinced he’s not bad at all. that this is all some weird ploy. you’re not entirely sure, you just don’t want to believe he’s mean.

neither of you are wrong. he’s not as kindhearted as you’d like to believe he is and he’s not as cruel as he hates believing he is. the truth is that you’ve rubbed off on each other deeply. that your empathy and grace has moved him and shaped his person into something new entirely, and how his narcissistic tendencies and manipulative nature have made you more susceptible to his, well, his something. malice? shenanigans? there’s simply not a word in english to describe this man. whatever goes on in the brain of michael kaiser is complicated.

and as he holds you, rubs his hand up and down your back as he finds himself holding you so tightly, he realises he almost regrets ignoring you for all of that time. making you believe he really doesn’t love you anymore when he really loves you more than anything in the world. only almost though, because he enjoys having you like this. vulnerable and cute in his lap, longing for his attention. his beloved girl, only for him, all his. he knows it’s wrong but he has to keep doing what he’s doing to you. needs to keep up the cycle of nonstop manipulation, or you might leave. he doesn’t want you to become self aware and leave him.

and as you listen to his heartbeat whilst leaning your head against his toned chest, feeling some of his hair fall atop your head, you feel content. even if you’re self aware already, even though you know it’s so disturbing and messed up to even feel anything except contempt about this dynamic, you feel at peace. you and kaiser deserve each other after all, you’re just too stupid to realise it. kaiser remembers your earlier affections, the ones he left unreturned. you’re an idiot, he thinks. saying you love him, it has dark connotations. it doesn’t bestow anything but misfortune upon you, but you say it anyway. “meine geliebte, i love you so much” he whispers into your ear, nipping at it. he can feel his heart beating against your soft cheek. he lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he was holding in. he feels tranquil too. this and soccer, this and hurting others, this and hurting you; this is what makes him feel alive. he feels alive. he knows he’s alive.

“love you too micha” you confess back, not like it’s much of a confession anyway, nor a secret. and as he strokes your hair gently and kisses your forehead, gives you these small gestures of love and tenderness in a rare moment of uncharacteristic softness, does these things for you as you confess back; he knows he’s alive.

he knows he’s alive because his heartbeat sped up a bit and he feels tingly inside. because of your words and your devote to him. he wonders if this is how you feel too. being gentle isn’t all so bad, but don’t get used to it.

you know not to get used to it, but even you can’t help but to fantasise about being a normal couple with kaiser.

not that either of you mind this, though. you thrive on the toxicity and uncertainty this dynamic provides, as twisted as it is. and at least you love each other. at least you’re pampered and provided with attention. at least kaiser found someone that makes him feel really and truly alive. someone he knows he can ensure won’t leave.

[markleessodalite]

What Scares Them About Love: NCT Dream

Haedcanon: what are the dreamies most scared of when it comes to falling in (or out of) love?

content: mentions of general insecurity, but nothing specific... i don't think there's anything specific to warn about here but lmk if i miss something!!

Mark:

 Mark is scared of being a fool for love. Mark likes to think of himself as a clever guy, quick on his feet, nothing and no one can get the better of him. On the other hand, though, he knows how he gets when he’s in love. Its like any finesse or composure he has flies out the window as soon as that certain someone appears. Yeah, its cute and charming, a usually cool and collected guy suddenly becoming a bumbling, rambling mess– unless a lovesick Mark lands in the hands of the wrong person. Mark knows he’d be so easy, too easy to take advantage of if he’s in love. And he’s terrified of being the fool who gets his heart played with, just because he was too dumb to notice the game.

Renjun:

Renjun is scared of not being enough. So much of his life is already under scrutiny, the very nature of his career is dependent on millions of people watching his every move, every performance, every look on his face at every second. You might think that with him being judged so often, he would become immune to it– but its different when Renjun is in love. People talk about love making you feel light and secure, safe, like nothing in the world could hurt you now. For Renjun, love just makes him remember all the things he’s insecure about, and all the ways someone might be dissatisfied with him. He’s scared of wanting to be everything for someone, but not being able to amount to anything.

Jeno:

Jeno is scared of exposing himself. He’s most comfortable when he can keep others at arm’s length, and there’s a very, very select few people in his life who actually get to see Jeno’s true self. Yes, he’s a member of one of the most popular idol groups, he performs to thousands of people on a regular basis who completely adore him, he posts a selfie that he took two seconds to snap and the comments are flooded with praise and affection. But he's in control of all of that– he knows exactly what to say and do to get the exact reaction he wants from others. When it comes to love, its an entirely different story. He knows that for a relationship to truly grow, he must show his true self to someone. And he knows that when he shows his true self, his most vulnerable insecurities and transparently naked thoughts, he loses all control over how that someone thinks of him. Jeno is so afraid of someone seeing him in such an exposed state, and deciding that they don’t like what they see.

Haechan:

 Haechan is afraid of effort. Not in the sense that he’s lazy– in fact, its the exact opposite. Haechan might just be the busiest man on the planet, and he puts an extreme amount of care and effort into everything he does. He’s constantly moving, constantly thinking, he’s not sure he even knows how to stop moving or thinking. But there’s only so far he can stretch himself without tearing apart at the seams. So really, what Haechan is afraid of is giving what little of himself he has left to somebody, and it ends up not being enough. He doesn’t have enough time, enough focus, enough energy to really give to someone. His biggest fear about love is losing it altogether because the effort he puts in just isn’t enough.

Jaemin:

Nothing about love scares Jaemin. The only thing he’s afraid of is seeing his love story end. Jaemin is a romantic at heart, he loves the very idea of love, and love truly means something very special and important to him. So, he doesn’t give his love easily to just anybody. He’s picky, because to him, his love story is meant to be the only love story he’ll experience, and it’s supposed to last until the end of time. He’s built to love someone until his last breath; he is not built to suffer through love fading, to go through a break up with someone he thought he’d be with forever, to watch everything he hoped and worked for dissolve into dust. When Jaemin’s incredibly high standards prevent him from finding someone, its not because he has an aversion to love. Jaemin is just terrified of what happens when love ceases to exist.

Chenle:

Chenle is afraid of backing down. Chenle is a prideful man, confident and sure. So confident and sure that he’s sometimes uncompromising, and a successful relationship is all about compromise. Chenle is perfectly aware of how important compromise is, yet there’s just something in him that refuses to let go, refuses to give up, refuses to compromise when he knows that he’s in the right. In a way, Chenle knows that a potential roadblock on his journey to love is his tendency to sabotage himself. He’s not just afraid of conceding defeat, he’s afraid that his stubbornness will be the death of his love.

Jisung:

Jisung is afraid of what love might mean for him. Jisung is still so young. Not to mention with how busy he is, how much stuff he has going on in every aspect of his life, how he’s still trying to fit into his own skin and figure out who he is… he just knows that if he were to fall in love at this stage in his life, it wouldn’t last. It would result in some sort of heartbreak that would change him in some way, and Jisung is terrified of what that change could be. He doesn’t want to become someone hardened and bitter, he doesn’t want to be heartbroken and sad all the time. He’s so scared of feeling all the emotions that come with love and the end of it, that for him, it seems better to avoid it altogether.

[saeslove]

🕸️ 013 . the silent touch

synopsis when the star football player Michael Kaiser shows up at your window injured, you tend to his wounds and uncover a deeper side to him. as secrets unfold and emotions rise, you find yourself questioning your growing feelings for him. wc 1.8k

as you skimmed through your textbook for the calculus exam you were struggling with, doubts swirled in your mind. you couldn’t shake the unease about inviting a stranger into your house. your study lamp was the only source of light in the dim room.

your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the window.

you glanced over and saw a silhouette of a man outside. hesitant at first, you received a text “i’m here.” it was from kaiser. as soon as you opened the window, a gust of wind rushed in, followed by the sight of a shivering Michael Kaiser.

"did you really climb up a 15-story apartment? you could’ve just come through the front door."

you stepped aside, letting him in as he walked around your room, inspecting your bedroom. “nice room.”

“yeah, it’s nothing special, though.”

his gaze fell on your study table, where papers were scattered everywhere. “oh, what’s this? calculus? you’re struggling with this?” he hid a smirk behind his smile.

“hey! this is the only chapter i need help with, and my exam is soon”

as he stepped closer to the light, his face was illuminated, and for the first time today, you saw his features clearly.

“what’s that on your face?”

his eyes met yours, but before he could respond, you stepped closer, brushing your fingers over his cheek. you felt the cut and bruise.

he quickly pulled away, looking down, hiding behind his hoodie. “it’s nothing. just a cut from football.”

“no, it’s not nothing,” you insisted. “let me help you. i’ll go get it the first aid outside.”

as you carefully tended to his wounds, you couldn’t ignore how close his face was to yours. just as you were finishing up, he winced, and a rush of sympathy just hit you. this bruise seemed to cut deeper than just the surface.

“you know, normal people use the door,” you said, attempting to ease the awkward tension hanging in the air.

“yeah, but then i wouldn’t get to see that look on your face. totally worth it,” he replied with a faint grin.

you opened your mouth to respond but decided against it, letting the words hang in the silence. his eyes, however, never left yours.

“i know what you want to ask,” he said, breaking the quiet.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“you want to know where i got all these bruises,” he said, his tone unreadable.

“i mean, yeah but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine”

“just a rough game, tackles hit harder sometimes. it’s not a big deal.” he shrugs

“you’ve got bruises everywhere, and a broken rib the other day and i’m supposed to believe this is just soccer? what soccer have you been playing?”

he leans back slightly, smirking, “why are you so worked up over this? maybe i should get injured more often then?”

you shot him a look. “don’t even joke about that. do you think i want to keep patching you up every time you get yourself hurt?”

“i didn’t ask you to but maybe you secretly like it”

"yeah sure, i just watching you wince in pain," you teased, smacking his bicep lightly. but the way he flinched made you pause.

your brow furrowed. "wait are you hurt somewhere else?"

"no" he said quickly, but the way his hand instinctively clutched his arm betrayed him.

you shot him a pointed look, and he sighed in defeat. "fine."

slowly, he pulled off his hoodie, revealing a nasty injury on his arm. you breath hitched as you took in the sight—though it wasn’t just the wound that caught your attention.

this was your first time seeing his tattoo up close. the intricate blue rose tattoo on his arm was impossible to ignore, the way it seemed to almost bloom under the light. as you gently cleaned the wound, your fingers brushed against his skin, and your eyes lingered a second too long.

"cool, right?" his voice was softer now, almost playful.

you glanced up at him. "yeah but why a blue rose?"

he hesitated, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "honestly? i don’t really know. i got it after i started playing football. it just felt right."

there was something unspoken in his words, something that made your heart beat a little faster. but before you could press further, a loud knock echoed through the house, snapping the moment like a twig underfoot.

“oh no that’s my dad! you have to hide! and don’t leave this room”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “your dad? is he one of those ‘clean my shotgun while i meet your friends type?”

you glared at him, shoving him toward your closet. “don’t test it. now go!”

“fine, fine relax schatz.” he scrambled to his feet, wincing slightly as he moved. “but if he asks, i came through the door like a normal person.” surrendering his hands in the air.

“just hide!” you hissed, practically shoving him inside. he ducked into the cramped space, grumbling under his breath about how tight it was.

the knock sounded again, louder this time. taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hair and rushed to open the door.

your dad stood there, holding a set of car keys. “hey, i left my keys at home and just wanted to let you know i’m heading out to work again. need anything when i come home?”

you forced a smile, trying to steady your heartbeat. “nope, i’m good! thanks.”

he frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as he glanced past you into your room. “are you okay? you seem... jumpy.”

“nope, not at all. actually, i was just doing yoga” you leaned casually against the doorframe, praying he wouldn’t notice the slightly ajar closet door.

“in the dark?” he asked calmly but still suspicious.

“yeah it’s just a girls thing hehe”

after a long moment, he shrugged. “alright. i’ll be back tomorrow morning, love you.”

as soon as the door closed behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. turning back to the closet, you yanked the door open.

“coast is clear”

he was sitting on the floor of your closet, holding one of your old basketball trophies. “didn’t know you played. pretty impressive.”

you grabbed the trophy from him, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. “just a past time hobby.”

you sat beside him despite the small space, the silence between you heavy but not unwelcome. for a moment, it was just the two of you, the closeness offering a strange sort of comfort.

“you have a nice dad,” he said softly, breaking the quiet.

“thank you,” you replied, glancing at him. “he works really hard, and i try my best to make him proud.”

he hummed in acknowledgment, leaning his head back against the wall. his gaze seemed far away, as if the room had disappeared around him. “my dad used to beat me up for every little thing i did, especially when we didn’t have any food.”

he words hit like a brick, cutting through the air with quiet devastation. your breath caught, and you turned to him, studying the way his expression stayed oddly calm, like he’d come to terms with it long ago or maybe just buried it deep.

“that’s awful i’m so sorry,” you whispered, unsure if anything you said could even begin to be enough.

je shrugged, offering a faint, bitter smile. “it was what it was. i guess some people aren’t meant to be dads.”

you hesitated, the weight of his words sinking into you. “but you turned out different. you’re not like him.”

he finally looked at you, his eyes softer now, as if your words had reached a part of him he didn’t let people see. “i try” he murmured, his voice almost inaudible.

“your calculus, let me help you with it” he whispered.

you blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, confusion written all over your face. “my calculus? are you seriously using my math homework as a distraction right now?”

“yeah as a reward for patching me up, i’ll help you. you can’t say no because i’m not leaving here until you understand derivatives.”

he sat up, and walked over to your the notes you spread out on the table.

in the past hour he has taught you, you catch yourself watching him more than your notes. the way his brows furrow in concentration, the way his voice softens when he's explaining something challenging.

"see? it’s not that hard," he says, leaning back and grinning.

shaking your head. "yeah, easy for you to say. you ace everything without trying."

"that’s not true," he counters, his tone lighter now. "i’ve got a lot going on, just like you."

you hesitate, noticing the way his grin fades slightly as he speaks. for a brief moment, his vulnerability peeks through again, and it stirs something unfamiliar in your chest.

"you know you’re not what i expected” you say without thinking.

he looks at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "what did you expect?"

you shrug, trying to play it off, trying to not get on his nerves “i don’t know. some overconfident star athlete who only cares about himself. but! you’re different."

he smirks, “glad to know i’m not a total cliché."

you find your heart beating faster, your mind racing with the realisation that maybe this isn’t just some casual friendship.

"why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, breaking the moment.

you blink, heat rushing to your cheeks. "looking at you like what”

he smirks, leaning closer. there it was, undenying gaze— intense, unflinching, and impossible to look away from. It was as though he could see right through you. you swallow hard, unaware of how close he is.

"maybe i should go," he says, but there’s hesitation in his voice.

and for the first time, you find yourself not wanting him to leave.

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : my fever went down so i decided to just post this, hope u enjoy & thank you for waiting!

i know kaiser didn’t really go to school but i feel like if he did then he would’ve been smart at everything…

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @sof888a @livelaughloveshidou @swagkittybear @axquella @passw-0-rd @hwaassaa @bbladie @tofumiarchives @justanotherweeb666 @metaphorically-here @ravenbc @levihanmyotp @rybunnie @adrnmyknight @etherealrin @shosuki @90s-belladonna @wwastro @shr00mfairy [tell me if i missed out anyone’s name]

comments & reblogs appreciated!

@ saeslove 2025 do not plagiarize, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (i) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky’s birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa….

word count: 6.6k

warnings: its just fluff, secret birthday planning & a lot of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. i’m thinking of making it a three part series.

masterlist | next part

Steve Rogers looked across the table at you, arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. The room felt warm and quiet despite the weight of the conversation, the faint hum of Stark Tech monitors filling the silence as your words lingered in the air.

Sam Wilson sat across from you, leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in mild skepticism, but there was something softer in his expression—something almost amused.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sam began, tilting his head toward you. “Your brilliant idea for Bucky’s birthday is to—what—borrow Tony’s time machine, go back to the 1940s, and hang out with his family?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the edge of the table. Your voice had a determined edge, but your eyes betrayed a flicker of nervous energy. “I mean… think about it, Sam. When was the last time Bucky had a real family celebration? A moment where he wasn’t running from Hydra or fighting for his life or—” you paused, chewing your bottom lip—“feeling like he’s some kind of burden on the people around him?”

Steve straightened in his chair, his sharp blue eyes shifting from Sam to you. There was a stillness to him, like he was processing your words as if they were mission intel. “You’re not wrong,” he said finally, his voice calm but measured. “But it’s not exactly simple. Time travel isn’t… well, it’s not just a weekend getaway.”

“I know that,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he could build up steam. “I know it’s not simple, Steve, but it’s worth it. You know what this would mean to him. To see his mom & sisters, Steve. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as well, as a slow grin spread across his face. “Y’know,” he said, pointing a finger at you, “I thought this idea was crazy at first, but now I’m starting to think you’re just crazy enough to pull it off. The question is, how do you convince Stark to hand over the keys to his fancy time machine?”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan for that,” you said, brushing off Sam’s teasing tone with a wave of your hand. “Tony owes me. Big time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” You smirked, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression. “Let’s just say it involves a highly classified Avengers mission, a stray cat, and one very expensive pair of Tony’s sunglasses.”

Sam barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Okay, now I definitely want to know.”

“It’s not important!” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. “The point is, I can get Tony on board. But I need you two to back me up. He’s not going to go for this unless he knows it’s not just some ‘sentimental whim.’” You air-quoted the words dramatically, your voice dropping into a passable imitation of Stark’s dry tone.

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that said he was almost convinced but still holding out for the catch. “Let’s say you get Tony to agree. How exactly are you planning to make this work? The timeline has rules. You can’t just drop in on the 1940s like it’s a costume party.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that. Look, I’ve been thinking this through. We’d be careful. In and out, no interference with the timeline. Just… a quiet visit with his family. Maybe a week, max. Enough time for him to have a real birthday celebration. I mean, wouldn’t you want that if you were in his shoes?”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze settling on a spot on the wall. For a moment, the room went quiet. Sam exchanged a glance with you, his humor softening into something more thoughtful. Steve’s voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but firm. “Yeah. I would.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out across the table, your hand brushing against Steve’s. “Then you understand why this is so important. He’s been through so much, Steve. We all know that. He deserves to feel important.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re laying it on thick. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re whipped for the guy.”

Your face went red, but you didn’t back down. “Of course I’m whipped for him Sam, I’m in love with him. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Steve and Sam both froze, their expressions caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

Steve blinked, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, his voice low, “I can’t argue with that.”

Sam recovered first, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re really pulling the romance card, huh?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your voice. “Are you in or not?”

Sam laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m in, I’m in. You had me at ‘time machine.’”

Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “But we do this by the book. No cutting corners, no unnecessary risks. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said quickly, your eyes bright with excitement. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.”

“Alright, so what’s the next step? Do we just march into Stark Tower and ask Tony for a favour.” Sam clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Because I’ve gotta say, I don’t think the guy’s gonna go for it without some serious persuasion.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’ve got a plan.”

Later that evening, the three of you stood in Tony’s lab, the soft glow of holographic displays casting blue light across the room. Tony Stark was pacing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” he said, stopping mid-stride to look at you. “You want me to loan you my multi-billion-dollar time travel machine so you can throw a birthday party in the 1940s?”

“Not just a party,” you corrected, your tone matter-of-fact. “A family reunion. For Bucky.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You know, when I built this thing, I had slightly higher ambitions in mind. Like, oh, I don’t know, saving the universe?”

“This is saving the universe,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “His universe.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s important, Tony. For Bucky. He hasn’t seen his family since the war. This would mean everything to him.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You people really know how to tug at the ol’ heartstrings, don’t you?”

Sam smirked. “Comes with the territory.”

There was a long pause, and then Tony shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But if you break it, you buy it. And by ‘it,’ I mean the space-time continuum.”

You beamed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room had brightened. “Thank you, Tony. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving you off. “Just don’t make me regret it. And keep Rogers out of trouble while you’re at it. Don’t want him to end up fighting someone in the alley.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He had a feeling this was going to be one birthday Bucky would never forget.

That evening, the living room of the Avengers Compound had never felt so cramped. Steve sat in his usual spot, his arms stretched over the back of the couch, trying to look casual while his stomach twisted with the weight of your not-so-secretive plan.

Next to him, you perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, your knee bouncing nervously as your eyes flicked between the TV and Sam. The movie playing on the screen was some action flick that none of you were actually watching—except maybe Bucky, who was obliviously sprawled out on the recliner, munching on popcorn.

Steve couldn’t help but glance at Bucky every few seconds, half expecting him to suddenly leap up and call their bluff. It was a ridiculous fear, considering how utterly relaxed Bucky seemed, but it didn’t stop Steve’s heart from racing every time Bucky so much as turned his head.

Sam, seated on the armrest of the couch, leaned over toward you and murmured under his breath, his tone just loud enough for Steve to catch. “So, what’s the next move, mastermind?”

Your lips twitched into a quick, nervous smile as you shot him a sideways glance. “We need to talk to Strange,” you whispered, your voice low but brimming with determination. “But we have to be careful. Bucky can’t know. Not even a hint.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and slouched slightly, doing his best impression of someone who actually cared about the car chase on the screen.

“Can you two stop whispering?” Steve whispered yelled, though his voice lacked any real authority. He reached for the remote, fiddling with the volume button and turned it up. “If you’re going to conspire, at least don’t do it two feet away from him.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “What do you want us to do, Steve? Write notes and pass them like we’re in fifth grade?”

Sam smirked, leaning closer to you. “I mean, it might be safer. He’s got super-hearing. For all we know, he’s—”

“Sam,” Steve cut in, his tone warning, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not helping.”

Bucky, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him, let out a low chuckle at something on the screen. Steve froze, his eyes darting to you, and you looked like you were about to jump out of your skin. Your eyes flicked back to Sam, then to Steve, your expression screaming this is impossible.

“Alright, alright,” Sam said quietly, lifting his hands in surrender. “Let’s just get out of here before you two have a nervous breakdown. We can go talk to Strange.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the excuse to move things along. “Good idea,” he said, standing and stretching like he’d just remembered an urgent errand. “We’ll, uh, be back in a bit, Buck.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked casually, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You froze, your face an open book of panic, and Steve jumped in before you could flounder. “Oh, uh… just running an errand. These two are just tagging along for backup.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, finally turning his attention away from the movie to look at you. “Backup? For what?”

“Moral support?” you stated hesitantly.

Sam snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement before he covered it up with a cough.

Bucky gave you all a skeptical once-over but eventually shrugged, settling back into his chair. “Whatever. Just don’t die out there.”

“Got it,” you blurted, grabbing Sam’s arm and practically dragging him toward the door. Steve followed, his stomach knotting tighter with every step.

The three of you didn’t speak until you were outside and halfway to Steve’s SUV.

Sam finally broke the silence with a low whistle. “That was smooth. Real smooth.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks still flushed. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Sam replied, grinning as he climbed into the back seat.

Steve rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door for you to get in & sit, his patience already wearing thin.

Once you were on the road, the tension in the car started to ease, though Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line. You sat beside him, fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you stared out the window. You looked nervous but determined, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Steve studied you for a moment, his mind drifting to all the times he’d seen that same look on your face. It was the look you got when you were planning something big—something you believed in with your whole heart. He couldn’t help but admire you for it, even if it made him nervous.

“So,” Sam said, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his seat, “what’s the game plan with Strange? You gonna sweet-talk him like you did with Stark?”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the window to look at Sam. “I don’t think Strange is the ‘sweet-talk’ type.”

“Good point,” Sam said with a grin. “So what’s the backup plan? Bribery? Begging? Threats?”

“None of the above,” you said firmly. “I’m just going to explain the plan and hope he understands.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No clever strategy? No emotional appeals? You’re really putting all your eggs in the ‘logic and reason’ basket?”

Steve cut in before you could retort. “She’s right. Strange isn’t the kind of guy you can manipulate. He’ll respect honesty.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. You were stubborn, sure, but you were also smart—smarter than you gave yourself credit for sometimes.

When you arrived outside the Sanctum Sanctorum, you were the first to get out of the car, despite the nervous energy radiating off you. Steve followed close behind, with Sam bringing up the rear, muttering something under his breath about “mystical nonsense.”

Stephan Strange greeted you at the door, his expression unreadable as always. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, the red of his cloak catching the door light in a way that made him look almost regal.

“This better be important,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I don’t have time for casual visits.”

You stepped forward, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. “It is important. I promise.”

Strange raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the two men behind you. “Alright. Come in.”

The inside of the Sanctum was just as strange and imposing as Steve remembered. You seemed unfazed, though he noticed you glancing around with a mix of curiosity and awe.

“So,” Strange said once you were seated in his study, “what’s this all about?”

You took a deep breath, your hands resting in your lap. “I want to use the time travel machine Tony built to take Bucky back to the 1940s for his birthday.”

Strange blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “That’s… specific.”

“It’s important,” you said quickly, leaning forward slightly. “I just want him to have a chance to see his family again. To know they’re okay. And I promise we won’t do anything to change the timeline. No interference, no big disruptions. Just… a visit.”

Strange studied you for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re asking me to approve a plan that involves traveling to the past and interacting with people who are supposed to remain unaware of future events. Do you understand how delicate this is?”

“I do,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’ve thought it through. The only thing I plan to do is explain to his family what happened to him—why he disappeared. They deserve to know he’s okay, even if they never see him again. And when I bring him there, it’ll just be for a week. A chance for him to see his family once.”

Strange’s gaze flicked to Steve, then to Sam, as if gauging their reactions. “And you’re both on board with this?”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my birthday, but if it makes Bucky happy, I’m all for it.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It’s risky, but I trust her. She won’t let anything happen to the timeline.”

“You’re lucky I’ve seen weirder requests.” Strange said letting out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. As long as you stick to your word and don’t try to rewrite history, I won’t stop you.”

Your face lit up, and Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. Strange wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, but he’d clearly seen something in your determination that convinced him.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Strange waved you off, his tone dry as usual. “Just don’t make me regret it. And for the love of all things sacred, don’t try to save Barnes from falling of the train in the past. You’ll just make things worse.”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly. “This is about giving him something good now, not changing what’s already happened.”

“Good,” Strange said, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Now get out of my Sanctum before I change my mind.”

As you walked back to the car, your steps were lighter, almost bouncing. You turned to Steve and Sam, a wide grin on your face. “That went better than I expected.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, thanks to your sales pitch.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t lose your smile. For the first time all day, you felt a genuine sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this plan was going to work.

Okay, see the thing was Steve had witnessed his fair share of devotion in his lifetime. He had seen love in wartime letters clutched tightly in trembling hands, in quiet glances exchanged across rooms, and even in the sacrifices people made for each other on the battlefield.

But nothing—not in the 1940s, not in the decades since—compared to the sheer, shameless fervor of your love for Bucky Barnes.

He leaned back against the counter of the kitchen, arms crossed, as he watched you chatter animatedly with Sam and Natasha, your eyes alight with that unmistakable spark. You had this way of talking about Bucky that made it impossible not to notice the utter adoration woven into your every word.

It wasn’t just love; it was full-blown, unapologetic obsession.

“And then,” you said, your hands moving wildly as you recounted some small, undoubtedly inconsequential moment, “he just sat there, all broody, like he was single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. And I said, ‘Bucky, you don’t have to pretend to be a tortured poet every time it rains!’” You grinned, clearly delighted with your own story. “He didn’t laugh, of course, but I swear I saw his lip twitch.”

Natasha smirked, sipping her coffee. “Sounds like a real charmer.”

“Oh, he is,” you said, beaming as though Nat’s comment had been an actual compliment. “You just have to get past the murdery vibe, you know? It’s all part of his charm.”

Sam snorted so loudly that Steve thought he might choke on his drink. “Murdery vibe? That’s the phrase you’re going with to describe your boyfriend?”

“It’s accurate!” you insisted, unbothered by the teasing. “You just don’t understand him the way I do. Beneath all that scowling and brooding, he’s—”

“A ray of sunshine?” Natasha interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” you said brightly, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, again. “He’s my sunshine.”

Steve suppressed a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved you—he really did—but hearing you wax poetic about his grumpy, perpetually unimpressed best friend was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t the first time, either. In fact, it was a near-daily occurrence.

What astounded Steve the most, though, was how far you were willing to go for Bucky.

Time Travel.

Literal time travel, just so Bucky could have one good birthday with the family he’d lost decades ago. Steve wasn’t sure if it was romantic or utterly insane—probably a mix of both. Either way, he couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“So,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “how’s the time travel plan coming along? Did Strange give you the green light?”

“Green as it gets,” you said, practically bouncing in your seat. “He said it wouldn’t mess up the timeline as long as we’re careful. I mean, no big hero moves, no trying to rewrite history, and definitely no saving Bucky in the past.” You paused, your face briefly clouding with thought. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, but you know… rules.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Man, you really would mess with the space-time continuum for him, wouldn’t you?”

You turned to him, your expression dead serious. “In a heartbeat.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the sound low and amused. “Y’know, I’ve seen people go to some crazy lengths for the people they love, but this…” He gestured vaguely, as if words couldn’t quite capture the enormity of your plan. “This might take the cake.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “Steve, if you could go back and give Peggy one more dance, wouldn’t you?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, his chest tightening as the image of Peggy Carter flickered in his mind. He didn’t answer right away, but you didn’t push him. You just gave him a knowing look, your eyes full of understanding.

“Alright, fine,” Nat cut in, breaking the heavy silence. “Let’s not get all sentimental. You still have one problem, genius. Tony Stark. What’s the plan for getting him on board?”

“We already got Tony on board,” you said smugly, folding your arms as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You? You convinced Tony Stark to let you borrow his precious time machine?”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “I just told him it was for Bucky’s birthday, and he rolled his eyes and said, ‘Fine, but if you break it, you’re paying for it.’ Honestly, I think he secretly likes the idea. He’d never admit it, but you know how he is.”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Sam, her expression halfway between impressed and incredulous. “I can’t believe Stark fell for that.”

“Oh, he didn’t ‘fall for it,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just pretends to be all grumpy and detached, but deep down, he’s a big softie.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Man, I think you’ve got a thing for grumpy guys.”

“Only one grumpy guy,” you said, your smile softening. “And he’s worth it.”

Steve looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t used to seeing someone care about Bucky like this—someone who saw him as more than just the Winter Soldier or the guy with a past too dark to talk about.

You saw Bucky. The real Bucky. And you loved him for it.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony strolled in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “What’s all this about me being a softie?” he asked, his tone dry as he leaned against the counter.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re a grumpy softie. Big difference.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, I’d revoke your time-travel privileges.”

“Softie,” you said, waving him off.

Tony smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention to Steve. “So, Captain Sentimental, are you ready to supervise this little field trip? Because I am not cleaning up any timeline messes.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?”

Tony looked you over, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re really doing all this for Barnes?”

You nodded, your eyes shining. “He deserves it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, his usual sarcasm melting away. “Well, good luck, sunshine. Try not to get too lost in the 1940s.”

As Tony left the room, the conversation drifted to logistics—timing, equipment, and all the little details that needed to be ironed out before the mission. But even as you talked, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said.

Sunshine.

Steve glanced at you, watching as you leaned over a map on the table, your brow furrowed in concentration. You might not have realized it, but Tony was right. You really were a ray of sunshine—Bucky’s sunshine, in the darkest corners of his life.

And for that, Steve couldn’t be more grateful.

A few hours later, Steve sat on a folding chair, leaning back slightly as he gazed at the clear night sky. The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint hum of the compound below and the soft rustling of the wind.

Beside him, Bucky nursed a beer, his metal fingers absently turning the bottle in his hand, the soft clink of metal on glass barely audible. Sam was sprawled out in another chair, his legs stretched long, an empty bottle balanced precariously on his knee.

The silence was companionable, broken only by the occasional sip or the muffled sound of Sam muttering about how the stars weren’t visible like this back in D.C. Steve let himself relax for a moment, the crisp air cool against his skin. But, as usual, his thoughts wandered to you and your relentless energy over the past few weeks.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head toward Bucky, “your girlfriend is disgustingly obsessed with you.”

Bucky choked on his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed the wrong way. “What?” he said, laughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Steve smirked, taking a sip from his bottle. “I’m just saying. It’s impressive, honestly. I’ve never seen anyone so… determined to adore someone.”

“Yeah, man. She’s got it bad. Like, embarrassing bad.” Sam laughed outright, his deep chuckle rolling into the night.

Bucky leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head, the grin softening into something fonder. “She’s been like that since day one. But hey, I can’t say much—I’m just as bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Sam said, raising his bottle in mock toast. “Two of you are a real power couple of mutual obsession.”

Bucky just chuckled, his eyes flicking up toward the sky as silence fell over the group again. Steve let it linger, his thoughts wandering to how Bucky’s face softened every time you entered a room, or how his mood lifted when you were around. It was a strange thing to see—the hardened Winter Soldier so easily disarmed by one person—but Steve couldn’t deny how much you had changed Bucky.

Maybe even saved him.

After a few minutes, Bucky spoke up, his voice quieter now. “She’s planning something, isn’t she?”

Sam, mid-sip, choked on his beer, his coughing fit loud enough to make Steve wince. “What?” Sam rasped, pounding a fist against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, keeping his face neutral despite the mild panic rising in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Bucky turned to him, his expression amused. “Oh, come on, Steve. She’s been vibrating with energy for weeks. Every time she looks at me, she lights up brighter than the damn sun. She’s up to something.”

Steve fought to keep his expression steady, his mind racing for an answer. He couldn’t exactly tell Bucky the truth—that you were plotting a time-traveling birthday reunion with his long-dead family. Instead, he opted for the simplest approach: deflect. “Could be just a coincidence.”

Wow Steve well done, what a deflect. Idiot!

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, because her suddenly acting like a kid on Christmas has nothing to do with the fact that my birthday’s coming up.”

Steve’s lips twitched. He wanted to feel annoyed at how sharp Bucky could be, but mostly he was impressed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. Maybe she’s just excited.”

Sam cleared his throat, raising his hands as if in surrender. “Listen, man, I love my life, so I’m not spilling anything. But if she’s planning something, it’s probably just a good old-fashioned birthday party. Cake, candles, maybe some embarrassing speeches. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve nodded, grateful for Sam’s quick thinking. “Exactly. Nothing big. She probably just wants to make it special.”

Bucky studied them both for a moment, his blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I know she’s up to something.”

Steve exhaled, letting some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Bucky didn’t know. Not really. And as long as they kept playing it cool, he wouldn’t find out until the time was right.

That was when they heard it: your voice, ringing out from somewhere below, loud and unmistakable. “Baby! Come down, I need your help with something!”

Sam froze, his bottle halfway to his lips, before glancing at Bucky with a grin that was entirely too pleased. “Baby, huh?”

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She had to call you that now?”

Bucky’s grin stretched wide, his expression a mix of amusement and pride. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, his voice louder than yours. “I’ll be down in a minute, babydoll!”

Steve closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. A six-foot-three super soldier—grumpy, broody, intimidating Bucky Barnes—was casually calling you “babydoll” in front of them like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sam, predictably, couldn’t contain his laughter. “Babydoll?” he repeated, his voice cracking with amusement. “Man, I’ve heard it all now.”

Bucky shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “What can I say? She likes it.”

“And you like her calling you ‘baby,’” Steve added, his tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“Damn right I do,” Bucky said, standing up and stretching. “You two can sit up here and laugh all you want, but I’ve got a girl waiting for me. Try not to get too jealous.”

As he disappeared down the stairs, Sam turned to Steve, still grinning. “You know,” he said, shaking his head, “for a guy who used to be Hydra’s deadliest weapon, he’s real soft now.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got someone who loves you like she does.”

Sam nodded, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s good for him.”

Steve looked out at the stars, his mind drifting again. He couldn’t help but agree. For the first time in a long time, Bucky had someone who saw him—not as a soldier or a weapon, but as a man worth loving. And that, Steve thought, was the best gift anyone could ever give him.

Somewhere in 1946, Brooklyn.

The modest brownstone on Brooklyn’s east side stood in quiet defiance of the bustling world around it. Mrs. Winnifred Barnes—Winnie to her late husband and close friends—sat at the small kitchen table, her hands folded tightly together, a pot of tea growing cold on the counter. The house was too quiet now, emptier than it had ever been. Rebecca was at school, and though she tried to keep the chatter alive when she was home, it couldn’t fill the void left behind by James.

Her boy.

It had been several months since the letter arrived, stamped with the insignia of the United States Army. The words blurred in her mind even now, but the message was clear: Missing in Action. Presumed Dead.

Her James. Her troublemaker, her beautiful boy with his wide grin and steady blue eyes. Gone. And no one could even tell her how, or where, or if he’d suffered.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers curling tighter. Every time she thought she had no more tears left to cry, the ache returned, fresh and sharp as ever. But this time, something else lingered—a strange sense of unease, like the air had shifted. It was quiet, but not in the usual way.

Something was coming.

The knock at the door startled her. It was brisk, not hesitant like the neighbors checking in or the pastor bringing by a casserole. Winnie frowned, wiping her hands on her apron as she rose. Her steps were measured, careful, as though the visitor might vanish if she approached too quickly.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a sight that immediately threw her off balance. The young woman standing there looked as though she had stepped out of some dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

Your clothes were strange, fitted in ways Winnie couldn’t quite comprehend, and your hair was loose and flowing in a style that seemed almost scandalous. But it was your eyes that caught Winnie most—a peculiar mix of softness and urgency.

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked, your voice steady but kind.

Winnie hesitated, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Who’s asking?”

You smiled faintly, “I… I need to speak with you. It’s about James.”

Winnie’s heart clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. “James?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“May I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle but insistent. “I promise it’ll make sense. I just need a moment of your time.”

Winnie hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping aside. Something in your voice—or perhaps the way you said James’ name—demanded trust, though it made no sense at all.

The kitchen felt smaller with you standing there, your presence filling the room in a way Winnie couldn’t quite explain. She gestured toward the table, and you sat down without hesitation, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Winnie remained standing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as though bracing herself.

“What do you know about my son?” Winnie asked, her voice firmer now, tinged with suspicion. “The Army already sent their letter. Unless you’re here with new information—”

“I am. There’s something you should know.” you interrupted, your eyes meeting Winnie’s with unwavering determination. “I know this is going to come as a shock but Mrs. Barnes, James isn’t dead.”

The words landed like a bombshell, shattering the fragile quiet of the room. Winnie felt her knees threaten to buckle, but she forced herself to stand tall. “What did you say?”

“He’s alive,” you said softly. “It’s a long story, and I know it’s going to sound… unbelievable. But I promise you, every word is true.”

Winnie sank into the chair opposite you, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain you could hear it. “You’d better start talking, young lady.”

You nodded, your hands tightening briefly on the edge of the table before you began. “When James fell from the train, he survived the fall. But… he didn’t come home because Hydra found him first.”

“Hydra?” Winnie repeated, frowning.

“They were… they are… a very bad group of people,” you explained, your voice tightening. “They were part of the war, working in secret. When they found James, they… they took him. He was badly injured—he lost his left arm—but they didn’t care about helping him. They used him.”

Winnie’s throat went dry, her chest tightening painfully. “Used him? For what?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your words pressing visibly on your shoulders. “They replaced his arm with a metal one. And then… they brainwashed him. They erased who he was and turned him into someone else. They forced him to do terrible things—things he would never have done if he’d had a choice.”

Winnie stared at you, her hands trembling. “You’re telling me… my boy’s been alive all this time, and he’s been… tortured?”

“It’s worse than that,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “They put him in cryo-freeze, a kind of suspended animation. It keeps the body from aging. They would wake him up every now and then, make him do their missions, and then put him back on ice. He was never in control, Mrs. Barnes. Not once.”

The room seemed to tilt, and Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand. If all this is true, why hasn’t he come home? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

“He couldn’t,” you said softly. “Not until recently. But now… now he’s free. He’s safe. And I wanted you to know that.”

Winnie shook her head, disbelief and hope warring in her chest. “How do you know all of this? Who are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m from the future. From 2025.”

Winnie stared at you, waiting for you to laugh, to smile and admit it was all some elaborate joke. But your face remained serious, your eyes filled with an honesty Winnie couldn’t deny. “The future,” she repeated faintly.

“Yes,” you said. “I know how it sounds. But it’s true. I came back to tell you about James because… because you deserve to know.”

Winnie leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. None of it made sense, and yet something about your voice, your demeanor, made it impossible to dismiss you entirely. “If you’re from the future,” she said slowly, “then tell me something else. Tell me about… Steven Rogers.”

Your expression softened. “He’s alive too.”

Winnie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No.”

“He is,” you said, your voice gentle. “He survived when he put the plane down in the water. They found him 70 years later, frozen in the ice, but alive. Just like James.”

Winnie felt tears welling up in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. “They’re both alive,” she whispered. “My boys are alive.”

“Yes,” you said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “And they’re together. Living in Brooklyn. James is free, Mrs. Barnes. He’s been pardoned for everything Hydra made him do, and he’s a hero now. People love him.”

Winnie’s breath hitched, a sob breaking free from her chest. She clutched your hand tightly, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “He’s safe. He’s happy.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Winnie allowed herself to believe it. Her boy was alive. And somehow, impossibly, everything was going to be okay.

Winnie’s hands, now resting limply on her lap, still trembled with the weight of what she’d been told. She didn’t know where to begin. What question could possibly make sense of the impossible? How could you, so composed and confident, sit there and tell her these outlandish, earth-shattering truths as though they were simple facts?

Her James.

Alive. Free. Safe.

But at what cost?

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. Your voice was patient, a warm balm against the storm raging in Winnie’s chest. “I know this is a lot to take in. If you need me to explain anything again, I’m happy to.”

Winnie blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus. Her hands twisted together in her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “You’re telling me my son’s been alive all this time… suffering, being used like some kind of—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, unable to finish the thought. “How could anyone do that to him?”

Your face softened, your expression filled with sympathy. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “Hydra is… they were ruthless. They didn’t see him as a person. They saw him as a weapon. But he’s not like that anymore. He’s found his way back to himself.”

Winnie’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know all of this? You’ve never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

To Be Continued….

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Love To Watch You Leave: Part 6

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Bullying, Lots of Smut, Grieving, Pining, Alcohol, Military Inaccuracies, Knife Injury’s and Attempted Murder

- Part 5 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

Authors note: Sorry this part took so long! I initially wrote one version, hated it and then rewrote it completely, still not overly happy with it but heyoooo! Enjoy.

——————————




Almost as soon as Bob had left and you’d waved him down your road, your bags not even having been taken inside yet, Bradley pulled up on your drive.




“Y/N, wait, please.” He called from the front seat of the bronco.




You rolled you eyes and sighed, picking up your bags.




“Not now, Brad. I’m tired and uncomfortable and I really just wanna have a shower.”




He climbed out of the Bronco and followed you up the drive, grabbing your bags out of your hands.




“Just give me 10 minutes, please?” He asked.




“Why?” You snapped, “What is the point of all of this?”




“What do you mean what is the point of all of this? You’re just going to kiss me like that and think everything will just go away?” His voice rose an octave.




“Shh! My mom’s inside and I really really don’t wanna have to explain to her why you just said that.” You covered your face with your hands as you groaned.




“Then come over to mine, please. You can shower and we can talk.”




“No, just leave me alone Brad.”




“Y/N… please.” He was earnest, his eyes pleading.




You sighed as you considered it, biting your cheek, and eventually nodded.




“Okay, fine. Shower first, then talk.”




Bradley nodded back and you followed him to his house. He placed your bags in his bedroom and lingered by the door.




“Remember the last time you were in this room? Punched me right here.” He chuckled, patting his shoulder.




You rolled your eyes but a little chuckle did escape you.




Bradley gave you some space to get yourself refreshed. You pulled out your jeans and a tank top, some bottles of body and hair wash, and your moisturiser.




Bradley’s bathroom was small but it was all you needed, you put your clothes on the toilet seat and climbed into the shower.




You sighed as the hot water washed the dried salt from the sea off of your skin and hair.




You didn’t spend long in there, and once you’d moisturised and gotten dressed you took a deep breath and made your way out.




You were anxious, not sure you really had the emotional energy to discuss what had happened with Bradley, but you had agreed to, so you walked to the living room where he sat waiting for you.




He stood as you walked in, hands on his hips awkwardly as he gestured for you to sit.




“Brad can you just spit it out, please?” You huffed impatiently, opting to stand.




He nodded for a moment, then took a deep breath, “I have feelings for you.”




You were silent as you stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was being serious.




“Please could you say something?” He rubbed his face.




“What kind of feelings?” You asked hesitantly.




Bradley sighed, “You’re a huge pain in my ass… but all I wanna do is kiss you.”




You shuffled uncomfortably, “So you just want me to be another notch on your belt?”




He rubbed his face in frustration again, “No.” hands back on the hips, “It’s not like that.”




“Then explain it to me.” You insisted.




“Why? Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”




“No, Brad! If you were anyone else maybe I would take you at your word, but can you blame me for needing a little more reassurance from you?”




“What do you want me to say? Huh? That I’m falling for you, and that over the last week I’ve really enjoyed planning with you, and now I can’t stop thinking about you, and looking at you? That I wanna hold you and kiss you so much it hurts me? Because I do, okay? Is that what you want?” He yelled.




That was exactly what you wanted, but you wanted more.




“The kiss last night, and on the boat earlier, were they real?” You asked.




“Real? Y/N, what kind of question is that? Do you go around fake kissing people like that?” He laughed in exasperation.




“Just answer the question, Brad. Was it real or just for show?”




“It was real! Okay? I’d been trying to think of a way to kiss you ever since you made that stupid no kissing rule, and the more you did to annoy me or piss me off, the more I wanted you.” His face was red now and he was ranting. “God, and then you put on that damn dress and I nearly lost my mind, you made it so difficult to separate what was real and what was for show and-“




You grabbed Bradley by his shirt and pulled him into you, your lips pressed against his just so he would shut up.




“You talk too much.” You joked as you pulled back for air, immediately returning for more.




He groaned loudly, a little surprised, and his arm wrapped across your lower back, pulling you flush against him.




Your fingers tangled in his messy curls and he lifted you so you could wrap your legs around his waist, giving you a better angle to deepen the kiss.




“Does that mean you feel the same?” Bradley grunted between kisses.




“Just shut up and kiss me, Bradshaw.”




He did as instructed, and suddenly your back was up against a wall and his soft lips migrated south to your neck and collar bone.




You hummed at the feeling and gasped as Bradley ground his hips into yours.




“Now that…your mouth is free… tell me how you feel.” He mumbled against your skin.




You chuckled, your eyes closed as you relished in the feeling, “I think you’re alright.”




Bradley nipped your skin, “Don’t quote Shania Twain right now. The truth.”




“Fine.” You huffed, and his hands slid under your shirt, wrapping around your waste as he ground his hips again. “I… I’ve always had a crush on you… but this weekend… oh do I really need to say it?”




“Yes.” He mumbled into your skin again.




“I think I’m falling for you too…” you breathed.




Bradley immediately found your lips again, hungrily this time, and carried you to the couch, laying you on your back.




“Good girl.” Now he was kissing the skin on your stomach and rib cage, his fingers hooked into your jeans as he tugged.




You lifted your butt to help him and you were suddenly very relieved that you had grabbed your good lacy underwear before showering.




Bradley’s lips slowly edged downwards and peppered your hips, his fingers gently running along the top of your underwear.




Your hands moved to his back and you grabbed a handful of his t-shirt, pulling the garment over his head and flinging it to the floor.




You couldn’t get over how his body had changed over the years, he looked like a golden god, and you ran your fingers down the muscles on his back as Bradley kissed your lips again, his hand cupping your jaw gently.




You bucked your hips into his, desperate to feel him again, but a big hand pressed down on your belly to stop you.




“Nuh uh.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Ask nicely.”




You sat upright, Bradley still on all fours between your now bent legs. “Make me.”




He leaned forward to kiss you again, his hand grabbed your ankle and pulled you back down into a laying position. “Now, ask nicely.” He repeated.




You grinned playfully, “Please… please grow up.” You teased. Bradley quirked an eyebrow.




“Oh so that’s how you wanna play?” He growled, pressing his lips back on yours, kissing down your chin and neck. If that’s how you wanted to play, Bradley was going to show you how he could outplay you, and his thumb moved down to stroke over your clothed core gently.




You moaned at the feeling and bucked your hips again. He held you down and continued his movements over the lacy undergarment.




You clenched your teeth at the lack of control this gave you, at his teasing, at the fact that you were doing this with someone you, until very recently, couldn’t stand to be in the same room as.




You were getting very hot very quickly, so you discarded your tank top, your matching bra suddenly catching Bradley’s attention.




“Have you been wearing underwear like this the whole time?”




“Well, since after school, yeah.” You rolled your eyes as your chuckled, out of breath.




Bradley was practically salivating as he gently squeezed one of your boobs, “The matching set was a good call.”




You swatted his hand away, “I’ve taken off enough clothes now, time for you to lose the jeans, Bradshaw.”




He got up and shimmied out of his jeans, standing in just his boxers in front of you. You gulped at the size of whatever he was hiding under them, you’d felt it a few times now but it certainly looked bigger than you’d expected.




Bradley gazed down at you longingly, your beautiful form below him in your lacy underwear that was begging to be torn off of you.




Suddenly his attention was drawn to the window, and his eyes widened.




“Shit.” He hissed, dropping onto the couch and hovering over you as he ducked his head below the back of the couch.




“What?” You asked, your heart rate speeding up for an entirely different reason now.




He dipped his head just inches from yours and whispered, “It’s Angie.”




You sighed in annoyance, “Did she see you?”




Bradley shook his head, “Don’t think so.”




Then there was a loud knock on the door, and you both kept quiet as you waited, bodies pressed scandalously together, waiting impatiently for more.




Another knock followed by a frustrated voice, “I know you’re there, your car is in the drive next door.”




You waited in silence a little longer, and then Bradley carefully poked his head up over the couch when the knocking stopped.




“She’s leaving.” He whispered.




“Thank god.” You felt a sense of relief, you could not deal with more drama right now.




You and Bradley stared at each other for a moment, and then you both started laughing.




He pressed his lips to yours softly, and you relished the feeling, your legs wrapped around him again and his fingers dipped into the side of your underwear, slowly tugging them down.




Bradley lifted your legs and discarded your underwear, and you suddenly felt embarrassed to be almost naked in front of him. That was until he grunted in approval.




“Fuck, you are just perfect all over aren’t you?”




You blushed bright red, but propped yourself up on your elbows to kiss him hungrily. His hand snuck behind your back and he snapped the clasp of your bra off.




Now that you were entirely naked before him, something animalistic inside Bradley took over.




His hands pawed and grasped at your flesh as he kissed your lips hungrily, then trailing down your body like he had to cover you with searing kisses completely.




His lips were getting dangerously close to your sensitive area but he was taking his time teasing you, peppering kisses along your abdomen and thighs.




You bit your lip as he got closer, closer, and suddenly his tongue flattened against your core and he licked a long, slow stripe through your lips.




Your back arched and your head dug back into the pillow as you moaned loudly. He did that two more times, and then his soft lips moved to suck gently at your sensitive bundle of nerves.




His eyes never leaving your beautiful, arching form, his tongue darted back out to dip into you, his thumb now rubbing circles expertly against your clit as his tongue fucked you.




“Brad!” You gasped, “Fuck.”




He smirked, licking another slow stripe to your clit. He gave you a very short breather when he removed his mouth and sucked two of his fingers. He slid them through your folds and pressed them into you.




You gasped at the stretch as he pumped them in and out, and shook as he curled them into your g-spot, his lips and tongue returning to their place on your clit.




You were doing a bad job at containing yourself, with one hand covering your mouth and another in Bradley’s hair. Bradley grinding against the couch did little to prevent the coil building inside of you and all you could think about was him grinding into you instead.




You were so close, so painfully close, when you both jumped as you heard glass smashing and the back door to the kitchen opening.




Bradley pulled out of you carefully and you immediately covered yourself with a large pillow.




“What the fuck was that?” You panted.




Bradley motioned for you to stay where you were as he stood slowly. He picked up a paperweight from the mantelpiece and edged towards the kitchen from the hallway.




You held your breath, quickly throwing your clothes back on as best you could before following.




You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard Bradley yell and something metallic clang to the floor. The paperweight?




“Fuck! Angie, what are you doing here?” He cursed.




You let out a deflated sigh and walked into the kitchen, annoyed but relieved.




You stood just behind Bradley, and Angie’s face twisted in dismay.




“I knew it!” She spat, a large rock from Bradley’s back garden clutched in her hand.




“You broke my back door, Angie, what the fuck? You can’t just break in if I don’t answer the door!” Bradley exclaimed.




You hung back behind Bradley’s large frame, unsure of what Angie would do.




“You said there was nothing going on!” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you, tears streaming down her face.




You stepped forward carefully, hands held out as you edged around Bradley. “Angie I’m sorry, I didn’t think this would happen, I didn’t think he felt the same way about me, but-“




“I don’t care about your excuses, you said I could have him once you had played your silly game!”




“Angie, I don’t feel that way about you.” Bradley interjected, and she looked taken aback, like she’d just been punched in the face.




“But… you slept with me.”




“Yes I know, I’m sorry. I was drunk and your name was the first one in my contacts, and truth be told you were the only ex that hadn’t already blocked me. I shouldn’t have done that, we were finished and… that’s all it was Angie, it was just sex.”




You felt bad for Angie suddenly, but she was taking things way too far.




She stood for a while just looking between you and Bradley before her eyes finally settled on you.




“This is all because of you. Before you, I stood a chance.” Her voice was now low, monotone, very different to her usual high pitched treble.




You suddenly felt very uncomfortable and stood a tiny step back, Bradley stepping forward in front of you.




“I think you should leave, Angie.” Bradley stated.




She didn’t move, still staring at you through the gap in Bradley’s arm, her blue eyes intensely boring into yours.




She must have been assessing her surroundings, because suddenly, almost too quickly to react, Angie grabbed a kitchen knife from the rack and lunged at Bradley.




The knife skimmed his bicep, slicing Bradley as she directed it towards you.




Thankfully Bradley’s reflexes were too quick, and he knocked Angie’s hand away from you, the force sending her reeling backwards on the slippery kitchen floor.




“Go!” He yelled, pushing you out of the kitchen and into the hallway.




You could feel Bradley behind you, ushering you towards the front door, until suddenly you couldn’t anymore.




You glanced back over your shoulder and your heart stopped.




Bradley lay on his front, barely having made it out of the kitchen. Angie had stabbed him in his shoulder blade and was wiggling the knife out in an attempt to get up and chase you, but the knife was wedged in the bone. Bradley yelled out in pain, thrashing and trying to get her to the ground.




You immediately ran back, shoving her shoulders hard and sending her flying off of his back. Unfortunately this also dislodged the knife, and as she flew back she swung through the air and the knife caught your shoulder.




You clutched at the bleeding skin for a second, quickly realising you needed to get Bradley up and out of the house before she regained her balance.




You helped him up and you both ran for the door as quick as you could. Bradley grabbed the handle and pulled.




“Fuck!” Bradley slammed his fists into the door as he realised he’d locked it out of habit and the keys were on the living room coffee table.




He turned to face Angie who stood between you and the living room door, the one beautiful red head now deranged and terrifying. Panic sweeped over you as you considered your options.




“Brad, as soon as she turns around, go get the keys and get help.” You stated very quietly as you stared her down.




“What are you taking about?” Bradley asked.




You quickly lunged towards Angie and she swung the knife.




“Y/N!” Bradley yelled, reaching out to grab you and pull you back. You were already too far and out of his reach. Bradleys heart stopped as the knife missed your jugular by mere millimetres, and you dropped to your knees and crawled past her.




She screamed in frustration, whipping around.




You quickly stood to your feet and ran down the hall and around the corner to the bedrooms.




Bradley took the opportunity to grab the keys from the living room, and quickly unlocked the front door, leaving it ajar before running back towards the bedrooms to find you.




The door to his room was now closed, but neither you nor Angie were in sight. He tried the door handle but the door was locked.




“Y/N?” He called, panicked, wiggling the handle as hard as he could.




Suddenly a scream from inside the bedroom echoed through the house, so loud and shrill it made Bradley’s blood run cold.




He threw his body against the door once, twice, and the third time the door flew open.




Bradley stood and stared at the scene unfolding before him, before a ringing in his hears took over his senses and he dropped to his knees.




——————————

Fatal Attraction vibes much?

- Final Part Coming Soon -

Taglist:

@dizzybee03 @cheyrenee @flowery-mess @wildxwidow @residentb1tch @championemmie @mycrofthomlesumbrella @sydneejean @milegonzalez96 @minnie-rae

[vodika-vibes]

Hiding An Injury - Pt. 1 - Thorn

Summary: After a speeder accident lands you with a broken leg that you need surgery to repair, you decide that the smartest thing to do is hide it from Thorn. He’s away on a mission anyway, and surely, by the time he returns, you’d be healed. You really, really should have known better.

Pairing: Commander Thorn x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1184

Warnings: Reader got hit by a drunk driver and needed surgery, and it just not having a good time.

A/N: So I had this idea for a while, I'm planning a mini-series with several different clones and their cyare hiding injuries/illnesses from them. Also, I think I managed to keep this gender neutral, but I'm not for sure.

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You’re not healing well.

Or, to be more specific, you’re healing a lot slower than you and your doctors would prefer. And it’s threatening to become a problem.

Not medically speaking. Your doctor is adamant that your slow healing won’t be a problem in the long run, though it does mean that you’ll probably need Physical Therapy to help strengthen your leg after it’s been immobilized for so long.

No.

The problem is that you didn’t tell Thorn that you got hurt.

You didn’t mention the speeder accident, the long list of injuries, or surgery.

You’ve even managed to keep your injuries a secret from his brothers in the guard. In truth, you’re still not sure how you managed to do that, outside of the fact that the only people who know about your relationship with Thorn are Fox and Stone.

Your reasoning was sound, at the time. He was away on a mission, and the last thing you wanted to do was distract him and cause him to get hurt.

The plan was just that you wouldn’t mention it. The rods would be gone. And Thorn would never find out.

Ever.

Only, he’s coming back. Tonight. And you’re still in a cast.

He’s going to be so…not mad. Never mad. But disappointed. And hurt.

You glare at the rods sewn into your leg. It, really, is the cause of all of your problems right now. But even removing the rods right this moment wouldn’t help…because you still need them to heal properly.

Maybe he won’t notice?

Your gaze lingers on the rods for a moment, and you sigh. There’s no way that he won’t notice. He’s not that oblivious. Not when it comes to you.

So, it sounds like you’re just going to have to accept that your lie of omission isn’t going to stay a secret.

It’s fine.

Probably.

Several hours later, while you’re curled up on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, you hear the sound of the door code being entered, and the sound of the door sliding open with a quiet squeal.

“Cyare?” Thorn calls from the front hall, “I’m home!”

You shift, uncomfortable, and then you release a silent sigh. “Welcome back!” You call as you slowly set your bowl on the side table and carefully use your crutches to get to your feet.

The stupid things are so unwieldy and even now you struggle with them. As soon as you don’t need them anymore, you’re going to burn them. Who cares if they’re metal and won’t burn? You’ll find a way.

You hobble into the front hallway, and a tiny smile crosses your face when you see Thorn standing there. His back is turned to you, as he removes his armor and sets it on the stand by the front door, but he looks fine.

There’s no obvious injuries that you can see.

And it’s like a massive weight lifts from your shoulders. It might not have been an easy deployment, but your Thorn came back to you in one piece. That’s enough for you.

“Welcome back,” You repeat, a smile in your voice as you watch him stretch as he removes the last bit of armor. 

“Sorry, I’m so late, cyare. I had to report to Fox.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” Your smile widens, “There’s leftover curry in the fridge, I ate a bit ago.”

“You made curry?”

“I ordered curry. When it looked like you weren’t going to be home for dinner I took the easy way out.”

He laughs, “You’re so lazy, bab—” Thorn finally turns his head to look at you, and he stops talking midsentence as he takes in the rods in and on your leg, and the crutches holding you up.

You watch as his gaze immediately sharpens, and he straightens to stare at you. His gaze is searching, likely looking for any additional injuries, but when he speaks, his voice is light.

“Those are new accessories.” There’s no accusation in his voice, just worry.

You shift your weight slightly, “Yeah, well…it’s a funny story—” It’s not, not really.

“I’d love to hear it.”

“...I was hit by a drunk driver.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “Based on the lack of injuries you have, I’m guessing it was a while ago?”

You make a face, “About five weeks.”

“And you’re still on crutches?”

“There was an issue with the metal in my leg,” You admit, “I had an allergic reaction to the nickel and it…well…basically, I had to restart the healing process in my leg about two weeks ago.”

Thorn is quiet again, for even longer this time, but then his hands settle, gently, on your cheeks. “Are you okay, cyare?”

“Yeah. I hate the crutches, but I’m okay.”

“Getting hit by a drunk driver sounds painful—”

“...oh. Yeah. That.” You pause, “In truth, I don’t remember that part. I don’t remember most of that week.”

Thorn looks pained, “Baby.”

“But, look. I’m okay. My concussion healed, and my bruises healed, and all that’s left is my broken leg.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…what if I distracted you? What if you got hurt because you were too busy being worried about me?”

“Do you have that little faith in my abilities?”

“No, of course not.” You counter immediately, “Just…the idea of you getting hurt because I distracted you at the wrong time makes me feel sick.”

He sighs and smooths his hand over your head, “Why didn’t Fox tell me?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know. I’m not entirely sure how he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t.”

A strange look crosses his face, “You’ve been dealing with this alone?”

“Mother was here for the first two weeks. She rearranged the kitchen. I haven’t had the energy to deal with it yet.”

Thorn sighs again, and you feel a surge of guilt at how tired he sounds. Then he leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “Next time, cyare, just tell me. Please?”

“Ideally, there won’t be a next time.”

“I know, but if it does happen again, I want to be the first person to know. Or one of the first people to know.” He presses a light kiss to your lips, “Also, I’m telling all of the guard about us when I go to work in two days.”

“...why?”

“That way you’ll have a support system that isn’t your mother if this happens again.” Thorn kisses you again, “Now, how about we go back into the living room, and I warm up dinner for myself, and you tell me what you’ve been doing these last couple of weeks.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“How could I possibly be mad at the love of my life?” Thorn kisses you quickly, “I am mad at the drunk driver, though.” He presses feather-light kisses all over your face, and you start to giggle, pulling a fond smile to his face. “Love you, cyare.”

You beam at him, “Love you too.” You carefully lean against him and reach up to press your hand against his cheek, “Welcome home, Thorn.”

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[priceoftheduchess]

oh, father! where art thou?

part one.

highschool au, long lost lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint, grumpy and sunshine-esque dynamics, simon riley & fem!reader.

cw) angst, use of 2nd person, allusions/vague depictions to intimacy eventually, drinking eventually, breakdowns, motherhood, simon riley is father, un-canon lore! all of it eventually

also! credits to the artists of the drawings and rendering used in the banner. they were reposted when i found them without credit, but i want to acknowledge them nonetheless. :(

also! to the one who started this all. @girl-lostconnection , everything i do , i do for you! entire thing inspired by this lovely person! :)

Simon Riley and committal didn’t exist in the same sentence. Not when he was a young lad — too underfed and too damn lanky with too many rough edges. Simon had never craved a permanent presence. As sad (and maybe a bit horrible) as it sounds, Simon wanted no one.

Even as his mother’s last wish was to meet her first daughter-in-law, and to meet her only son’s children.

I’m sorry, Tommy. She’d love you if she could bring herself to remember.

Even as he heard his mother’s last wish, he knew it was just another thing he couldn’t follow through with. Another thing he’d have chipping into his shoulder. I mean, Jesus, who’d want to marry and reproduce with the fucking freak that he is? Jesus.

So, at the ripe age of eighteen, after he’d buried his brother, and lost his father to the bottom of the bottle — like they’d never even fucking existed — he buried his mother.

Eleanor Riley. Gone too soon. Loving wife and mother.

Simon stared blankly as her body was lowered; the fact that he was the only one in attendance besides that fucking priest who will not stop talking burns like pure acid down Simon’s throat. Did she love no one? Was she loved by none, except this poor malnourished teenager, too stoic for his circumstances? Fuck.

Simon miraculously makes his way out of the cemetery, bile rising in his throat. His father was not home when he got there. Unsurprising.

Simon was unsure how to feel. But it seemed most logical to just . . . keep going?

And that, he did. He awoke to a silent home the next morning, all items untouched. His mother’s lipstick still on her wine glass in the sink. His father’s half empty bottle of scotch tipped over onto fabric, staining the couch. His brother’s room, unshaken by the sands of time. Toys strewn on the floor, action figures on the window sill, and comic books haphazardly strewn on the desk.

Let bygones be bygones, Simon.

Simon waited for the bus like normal. Well, like he usually would at this time of day. He didn’t even remember getting dressed.

When he got on the bus, he got nauseous again. Why was everyone looking like they knew? Like they were there, to see her blood dripping from the porcelain? Like they saw how Simon’s ribs were way too obvious to be normal? Like they knew where his father was? Fuck. There is suffering too terrible to name.

But he gets off the bus, and he’s aimlessly roaming the halls — trying to conjure where his first lesson was. Or, any lesson really.

And there you are, walking to orchestra. Dorky, round glasses perched on your nose and your violin clasped tightly in his hand. Buried in your own thoughts, just as Simon was, you two collide.

Your glasses fall onto the ground, clattering around somewhere and you clutch your violin case to yourself in the midst of the fall. Simon is almost unmoved by the collision, save for the backpack strap gone awry.

Apologize, Simon, you need to focus where you’re going. This wasn’t her fault, you were walking too fast and you need to apologize, hand her her glasses, Simon, do something. He thinks frantically.

“Seems like your glasses don’t work too well,” Simon snarks. No, not that something. He scolds himself for not apologizing or even handing you your glasses, and he doesn’t eat lunch that day to punish himself. Weeping over his own fucking lap in the bathroom. Grief is a fickle mistress.

But you are there. He saw your eyes when you stared up at him. Big, glossy and so beautifully colored. He couldn’t even describe it. And your cheeks. So pink, so full of embarrassment. And your legs as you leaned against the wall, trying to compose yourself. You are the sweetest girl in Year 11, and Simon has made a damn fool of himself.

Somehow, perhaps divine intervention, you find yourself at his lunch table a week later. And emphasis on his, because who would ever share a space with this man? You observe him, unabashedly, and ignore your friends as they give you strange looks because again, why are you sitting with him?

His eyes are sunken in, and he’s deathly pale. His arms are stick thin, and it’s a soul-crushing sight within itself. You roll him an apple. Why does he look so angry? You slide a granola bar across the table. His expression softens, but he is still apprehensive.

“Eat,” you order him. And disregarding what you’ve just said, he is sure you’ve spoken gospel with how soft your voice is. He shakes his head, however. Simon doesn’t take orders. He rolls the apple back to you, noticing your lack of any other food.

“Says you.” He says. But his voice is too gruff, and too weak for itself. He’s made a fool of himself again. You roll your eyes and roll the apple back.

“I’m fine. Eat.” You order again, but the bell for third lesson has rung and he’s gone. Leaving the fucking apple and the granola bar.

How will you ever get through to him?

You seem to answer your own question when you get to school thirty minutes earlier than usual, and you catch Simon smoking outside of the orchestra building. What the Hell?

You walk up to him, way too riled up for this early in the morning, and shove the granola bar against his chest.

“Look, I excused you runnin’ in’a me ‘cause maybe you were just zoned out. ‘N’ I excused your l’ttle snarky fucking comment ‘cause I felt bad for you, but don’t reject my food, mate. Bit disrespectful, innit?” You’re nearly as fucking British and Manchurian as he is.

Simon is almost bewildered. He takes the granola bar and shoves it into his pocket after a few beats of silence. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he chuffs, stomping his cigarette beneath his ratty shoe. “I’ll go ‘n’ eat the blasted thing, yeah?” He says before walking off.

Unbelievable.

next part

[quarterlifekitty]

The Gaz secret baby post was sooo delicious. He totally would go "oh fuck yeah a baby it’s baby time". You've infected my brain with this trope and the doctors are saying it's incurable 🤒 I keep thinking of Nikolai in this trope!

He's not made his attraction to you any secret – you dismiss any reciprocated feelings because it's just not realistic with both of your jobs. The task force finishes a gruelling but successful op with him, and everybody decides to let loose for a night. After a few many rounds of drinks… you inevitably fall into his bed.

Cut to 5 weeks later, you're staring at a positive test and wondering how long you can keep this a secret. You resolve to never let Nik know he's the dad. Someone who loves his job, disappearing for months… you decide it's best for your child to have at least one present parent and maybe you're scared of the rejection.

I’m so ashamed I haven’t done this trope for Nikolai!!! I love the idea of you trying actively to hide it— it’s not just a one night stand thing, you really know each other and you’re still trying to get away with it.

At first, when he sees the baby— he just assumes it can’t be his, because you would’ve told him, wouldn’t you? Surely you wouldn’t think he didn’t want anything to do with a perfect, chubby baby made from both you and him. So when he’s questioning, it’s about the timelines. He knows there wasn’t anything labeled between you— it was one night, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but the beast inside him still bares its teeth at the idea that you fucked someone right after he fucked you.

Price, for all that Nik is his best mate, promised to be your confidant as your captain, and he wouldn’t betray that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a messy bitch who will start making a whole load of implications. Some of them are pretty crude, too, because he’s trying to goad Nik into confronting you. Saying things like “You should dick ‘er down again soon, last time it settled her down like you wouldn’t believe.”

It makes Nik more and more sure that there wasn’t anyone else. You were never really the type. Which means the baby must be his, and for some reason, you don’t want him to know.

That makes his blood hot. The idea that you don’t want him to father his own baby. You’ve always been a bit bristly to him, and he’s never known exactly why— he was hoping to find out the morning after you fell into bed together, but you ran out first thing, and he was contracted in a job soon after.

So he hangs over you more than before, watching from a distance, the gears turning as he considers what the fuck to say to get you to fess up. He wants to hear you say it. He doesn’t want to just ask and have you confirm or deny.

It hurts that you don’t want to tell him. That you don’t feel it’s safe for him to know. That you’re trying to protect yourself and the cub from him knowing. And despite the support from your own squad— it can’t have been easy for you.

But he also doesn’t want to miss out on another second of fatherhood. There’s an impatient roiling in his gut about it. Seeing your fat little baby, his fat little baby, and not being able to wordlessly lift it from your arms and hold it close to his chest and kiss its head.

So he’s conflicted, to say the least.

[jazziejax]

𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC, Aaron Pierre x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which the invisible string finally tightens, bringing some back together for reuniting and others close to form a bond that’ll last a life time.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - cursing/swearing, mentions of a break up??, idk fr….

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - This is actually the beginning of my ‘Cozy Nights and Soft Mornings’ universe. This and following chapters will be giving the backstory and other storylines to the couples. Yes, I made a lion OC so this all could make sense. Yes, I know yall are tried of seeing OC stories. And NO, you don’t have to use the pictures of the OC’s I picked, when it comes to description, I really only do skin color and outfit, I could care less about what they actually look like beyond that. I got bored and the Bad Boys AU so taking too long to get to the good stuff and I have an essay due at 11:59 that I haven’t started on. Sorry for any grammar issues and spelling errors!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,163+

| 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚 | 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 |

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Was the only sound that could be heard in the separate apartments of the two women. The lighter-skinned woman was jumping up and down in her bed, screaming into the phone in her hands. She could barely hear the other woman over the phone, who was excitedly stomping her feet as she sat on her couch, her laptop a few feet away from her.

“Oh my gosh, this is so insane!” She shouted as she plopped down in her bed, and she was shocked the old thing didn’t collapse under her weight. Her sudden fall caused her slightly loose bonnet to slide down her face, the girl pushing it up as she laid down on her bed out of breath. “I can’t believe this.” She sighed, her chest steadily rising and falling in her loose top. The sun was peaking through her bedroom window, the glass pulled up to let in the wind from the outside. She could feel the heat from the sun on her bare legs as she listened to the giddy girl on the other side of the phone.

“I can’t believe this either!” Nala cheered into her phone with a large smile on her face. “I don’t want to speak too soon but shits really starting to look up for us, Eve.” She said as she moved to angle herself back to her laptop, looking at the confirmation email the pair got. Evette sighed again, her gaze focused on the loud ceiling fan above her. Her mouth was open as she tried to find words to convey her whirlwind of thoughts, but it was like she was stuck in a daze as she realized what her life could become after this flashed before her eyes.

Nala cocked her head away from the phone, looking down at her screen to see the call was still connected. “Girl, hello? You there?” She asked, looking awkwardly around her own place due to the silence she was now enveloped in.

Her voice snapped Evette out of her thoughts. “Yeah. yeah, I hear you.” She said. “I’m just…shocked.” She began as she sat up from her bed again, scooting herself off the mattress to make her way out of her room. “I mean, we just booked a Disney Production.” She stated, her hand rubbing against her forehead after she opened her door, still taking in everything. “A fucking Live Action Disney movie! Together!” She shouted as the excitement all came back to her, now standing in the small division between her kitchen and her living room. “This is the second role we’ve gotten together!”

“It’s fate, Eve! I’m telling you!” Nala grinned her gaze back on her laptop, rereading through the emails of her new life. She heard Evette sigh through the speaker as she scrolled her screen. “I’m just…at a loss of words.” She sighed, her eyes skimming over the names within the casting email.

“You know, I’m proud of us,” Evette spoke up, moving over to her small living room and plopping herself down on her couch, lying her legs on the seat cushions as she relaxed into the arm of the couch. “We’ve come so far in only a couple of years. Hell, I remember when we used the share this place.” She said, letting out a small laugh as she gestured around to the small, one-bedroom Atlanta apartment, thinking of all the memories the girls shared in the space as they navigated their dreams together. “Do you think this is it? I mean, I know we haven’t necessarily made it, but…Do you think this is the start?”

“Uh, hell yeah!” Nala scoffed from the other end of the phone, momentarily taking her eyes away from the screen that was beginning to hurt her eyes from squinting at the tiny font. “I told you that things are only going up from here when I first met you on set as an extra when I needed a place to stay and you needed a roommate for rent.”

“That was, like, five years ago,” Evette mumbled, blinking at what her friend was trying to convey.

“And look at us now! I’m finally getting booked for roles and you’re busy!” She could practically hear Nala’s grin. She couldn’t help but smile again, a warm feeling spreading through her at her friend’s happiness. After so many years of hard work and grinding, Nala was finally achieving her dream, and she couldn’t be happier for the girl.

She was about to speak, acknowledging her gratitude and admiration for the major changes that her ‘industry baby’ companion was about to experience before she was cut off.

“And stop trying to get all deep and sentimental on me, you know I hate that shit,” Nala mumbled as she went back to reading the multiple emails she’d gotten. She furrowed her brows at one of the names on the list for the movie the pair would be in, while Evette continued over the phone.

“Damn, a girl can’t be proud? This is really big for you, ya know? You never forget your first real big acting gig. But no, I guess you can’t even be nice to bitches no more.” She said. She crossed her arms in her lying position, still holding the phone up to her ear.

When she received no response, she furrowed her brows, knowing that Nala would usually keep the argumentative banter going. “Hello?” She said, only to be met with silence. She pulled the phone from her ear, looking down to see the call was no longer connected and she’d just been talking to the air, her home screen pressed against her ear.

“This bitch.” She mumbled to herself, just when her front door burst open. She let out a small scream, quickly sitting up and looking back at her open apartment door to see said friend in her pajamas still, laptop in hand.

“What the hell?!” Evette screamed, her hand clenched around her phone in fear at the commotion Nala caused. The girl just continued to huff, coming into the apartment and closing the door behind her, as well as locking it. Evette stood up from the couch, her arms spread in confusion as she stared at the other woman in shock.

Nala waved the girl off, still trying to catch her breath from how she got here. “No girl, you’re gonna want to sit down for this.” She breathed out, stumbling her way over to the couch with her open laptop in her arms. Her words only caused Evette’s face to morph more into pure confusion, eyes squinted and brows drawn closer together as she looked at Nala.

“Nanali, what the hell are you talking about? What’s going on? Why are you barging into my house like the fucking feds?! How did you even get in here, and why are you out of breath?!” She yelled as she watched Nala come over to the couch and plop down, meshing her body into the dark green corduroy as finally shanked her breathing.

“I have a key.” She said, holding up the bundle of keys that dangled off of her middle finger and poked through one of the many rings, an assortment of charms and keys clinging together. She let her arm drop back down with a clink before adjusting herself in her seat, placing her back against the back pillows of the couch and her laptop on top of her legs. “And I barged in because it’s an emergency.”

“What could possibly be so bad that you couldn’t say over the—.”

“And I’m out of breath because I ran up here. The elevator was occupied.”

This caused Evette’s face to drop, quickly sitting on the available spot on the couch next to her. “You took the stairwell? Oh wow, it really is an emergency.” She said, her face contorting into a wince at the thought of the stairwell. That place was like ground zero for anything you could think of in an apartment complex like theirs. From persistent crackheads that tended to get violent sometimes to a spot often used by corner girls trying to make a quick buck. The drug swaps were occasional now since the place got busted a few months back.

It was especially with Nala staying on the second floor. The first two floors were considered off-limits for most of the people in the building if you didn’t indulge in anything that it offered.

Nanali nodded as she looked at her friend, pursing her lips.

“So, what is it?” Evette asked, looking at the girl. Nala nervously nipped at her bottom lip with her sharp canines as her eyes darted between the laptop screen and her waiting friend. When Evette quirked an eyebrow, Nala let out a small sigh. She scooted over, awkwardly placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You know I love you right?” She said, squinting her eyes at her blonde friend next to her.

“What the hell is going on?” Evette snapped, scrunching her brows at her looked at Nanali.

“And you know that I care about you. And that we share a mutual feeling of…uncomfortability when it comes to delivering bad news.” She continued, ignoring the woman’s words as she tried to deliver the news. “So, just imagine how hard this is for me,” Nala said, a silent wince in her face. Evette groaned, bringing her hand up to rub harshly at her eyes.

“Just spit it out, Nanali, you’re giving me a damn headache.” She spat.

“Hey! I’m just trying to be considerate of feelings here because I know you feel your emotions very deeply. I don’t want you breaking my laptop or crying a damn river!” Nanali snapped back, finally breaking out of her odd therapist-esque approach that made the two of them uncomfortable.

“I’m gonna break the damn thing anyway if you don’t just spit it out!” Evette snapped back, her gaze hard as she looked at the woman next to her. The suspense of it all was killing, and not even in a metaphorical sense because her heart was still beating erratically and she’s been sitting down for almost five minutes now with no movement, plus she had a headache all of a sudden. Her mind was racing with the anticipation of whatever Nala held on that laptop and if she had some condition that’s finally peeked its way through symptom-wise due to her friends' insistent behavior.

Nanali paused, staring at her intensely as she analyzed her.

“Well, now I don’t feel comfortable giving you my laptop.”

“Give me this damn laptop!” Evette gritted through her teeth, reaching and snagging the device off of Nala’s lap before she could even think about holding it longer. Nala let out a small gasp as the laptop left her possession, watching Evette’s eyes flicker all around the screen.

“This is just the casting email. What am I supposed to be looking at?” She asked. Nanali pursed her lips as she scooted closer to her, looking at the laptop that sat on her lap. She moved her finger to the mousepad and scrolled down, before pointing at the names at the end of the email. Her eyes flicked between the one name she knew from word of mouth and the mouth she heard it from, watching her as she read the names.

Evette paused at the familiar name on the list. The name that flooded her mind with a plethora of memories, some good, some bad. A name that caused her heart to skip a beat and her breath to catch in her throat. A name that caused her stomach to flutter as she froze as if his very presence lingered in the room.

It was a name she spoke to Nanali about often, especially after having downed a few drinks and being all nostalgic. A name that sometimes made her want to tear up at the mere utterance, being flooded with all the times they had together and how much life and first-time experiences they truly got to live together. The name weighed heavy on her shoulders, forcing her to remember the very details of how they first met, and how it all ended.

It was the name of the man she didn’t like to think about, a man that she still left love for.

Aaron Pierre as ‘Mufasa’, Kelvin Harrison Jr. as ‘Taka’, Nanali Campbell as ‘Sarabi’, Evette Hampton as ‘Lela’, Blue Ivy Carter as ‘Kiara’, Beyoncé as ‘Nala’, Donald Glover as ‘Simba’.” The names carried on, listing more and more actors and the characters that they voiced. But that one name was the only one she could pay attention to. The only one that she gave a damn about, which was shocking to her because Beyoncé was on the list. She could only let out a small breath at the sight of it, blinking.

Nanali let out a sigh as well, looking solemnly at her friend. Not even thinking about it, she brought her arm around the girl's back, rubbing her hand against the arm it landed on. “Are you okay?” She asked softly, not taking her gaze off the side of Evette’s face.

The sound of her voice caused Evette to snap out of her trance, blooming away her daze but keeping her eyes on the screen. “Yeah.” She said, although her voice was low and full of uncertainty. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Nanali didn’t believe her one bit, among her head down to look into the girls' eyes. Evette still didn’t move her gaze from the laptop, her face subconsciously morphed into a slight frown. “I know this is a lot for you. Especially now.” She began. “And…I—I don’t even know where to begin to make this any better.” She mumbled near the end, more so taking to herself now. “But look on the bright side, it’s animated and nothing but voice acting. We’ll probably never even have to see them in person. Which sucks because Beyoncé’s in this movie.” She said with a small frown, beginning to ramble to herself with her arm still wrapped around the girl.

“Maybe we can see her at the premiere. Even just a glance is fine with me because I don’t know if I can handle speaking to Beyoncé.” She continued before a thought crossed her mind, causing her to let out a small gasp and cover her mouth. “But that would mean we’d also have to see the others at the premiere. And maybe even a press tour, because it is a Disney film after all, which means it might be a huge press tour. I mean, it’s The Lion King, that’s, like, the best Disney film of all time and the first one did super well.” As she continued to ramble about the movie and its preceding environment after it was all over, Evette’s head slowly turned her way, contempt written on her face as she watched Nala’s mind work over her features.

“You’re not helping.” She cut in, causing Nala to halt and look over at her.

“I mean, I did say I wasn’t going to be any help.” She shrugged, causing Evette to let out a small sigh, but couldn’t help the small grin that graced her lips. Nala cheesed, looking at her friend’s face. “Ahh! Look who’s smiling!” She said, flexing the arm she had around the woman to squeeze her. “I’m not smiling,” Evette said with a clear view of her grin. Nanali’s face dropped as she released her grip from around her but kept her arm in its place. “Don’t lie to my face, you know I’m gaslit easily.”

“No, you’re just very gullible,” Evette said as she let out a small chortle. Nala just squinted her eyes at the girl suspiciously. “And how do I know you’re not still gaslighting me, huh?” She joked, causing Evette to let out a small laugh. Nala smiled at the sight of her friend smiling. “And there’s a laugh. Could’ e been better, needs more heart, but it was aight.” She said, only getting another laugh from the blonde, who was in need of a root touch-up, as a response.

“You’re good at cheering people up,” Evette said as she sat up a little straighter and leaned into her friend’s embrace, placing her head on Nala’s shoulder. Nala placed her head on top of hers, bringing her closer with the arm she still had wrapped around her. “Nah, I’m just really good at deflecting from situations that require too much effort.” She said nonchalantly, causing Evette to chuckle. “But you know what I’m not going to deflect from?”

“What?” Evette questioned, still in the girl's embrace.

“How you called me a bitch earlier.” She said before smacking the girl upside her cover head. Evette flinched, bringing her hand up to rub at the spot. “You heard that?” She questioned, face contorted into one of confusion since she could’ve sworn the call had ended by the time she said that.

“Yeah, I did,” Nala stated sharply before taming her again. “I have the ears of a snow owl hunting for its prey in a blizzard.” She said dramatically. Evette paused, frowning although Nala couldn’t see it.

“You have to stop binge watching those animal planet.”Nala then hit her again, this time in the back, causing Evette to let out a small yell in pain. “Now what was that for?” She asked, moving to sit up but Nala tightened her girl around the girl, keeping her in palace against her shoulder. “That was for the ‘bitch’ you said in that little rant of yours about me not wanting to get sentimental. Now look at me, hugged up on your couch while you’re in a time of need. It doesn’t get more sentimental than that, boo.” She said.

“I am not in a time of need.” Evette was quick to add, trying to take her mind off of the new information she’s had to face at some point. Now Amit wasn’t the time.

Nala rolled her eyes at the girl. “Girl, please. Just appreciate this hug while you can. You’re not gonna get another until this movie comes out.” She said, her head still on atop of hers. “And speaking of the premiere, I know this is all months, hell maybe even years in advance in this fucked up economic and social climate, but I’m gonna need the hookup with your stylist. You know I don’t have one of those and I do not want to look like a bum on the red carpet. I’d never live it down and if I see one tweet about what I have on, someone will drop dead in the preceding three days. I know people.”

“Here you go with this voodoo shit. Whatever happened to the heifer I needed turned into a goat?”

“Well, which is it? A heifer or a goat? You were never clear.”

“You’re a year late to clear that up.”

[livingformintyoongi]

🪷: Our Jimin and for the AU.... he works at an animal shelter and MC volunteered once- or she was supposed to- but she finds herself there anytime she's free these days

Just Another Good Deed | Park Jimin

Author’s note: Hello, my dearest husband's partner! Thank you so much for making the request, I really loved the idea <3 I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it ^^ (Really my favorite part was the moodboard, I loved it, patted myself on the back and everything). Pairing: Veterinarian!Jimin x Volunteer!Reader Word count: 1.8k Warnings/tags: Little appearance of big brother Yoongi because he is my bias wrecker and if I can get him in, I will :), and that's all, it's all very fluffy. Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthoughts Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You glanced one last time at the rearview mirror in Yoongi’s car, adjusting your hair for the fourth time. It was hard to decide which side looked better.

"Yoongi, quick, which looks better? Over my ears or tucked behind them?" you turned to him, arranging your hair both ways so he could carefully consider his options.

“It looks the same to me,” he mumbled in the same monotone voice he used, well, almost every day he spent time with you. “Besides, why does it matter? We’re going to an animal shelter, not a double date.”

You rolled your eyes, finally deciding on leaving your hair over your ears; it framed your face more beautifully, and the soft waves made it stand out even more that way. “I can look nice for the shelter if I want to. I don’t need some hidden agenda, you know?”

Ignoring your comment, Yoongi pulled out his car keys and stepped out. You weren’t surprised to see him coming around to your side of the car to open the door and help you out. Your brother might have been a man of very few words—and expressions—but your mom had raised him to be a true gentleman.

“Alright, come on, let’s move. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” you grabbed his arm and pulled him along, slightly slowing his pace as you approached the entrance. Just a few more steps, and you’d see him again. You had to bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from smiling too soon.

Yoongi, keeping up with your pace with his usual calm expression, couldn’t help but notice the strange look on your face. He could understand you wanting to dress up to go out—that was fine, everyone liked to look good—but the fact that you’d been smiling the whole way here and that you’d been visiting this shelter every week—or any chance you got—made him think that maybe...

“Oh! Y/N, it’s you,” a cheerful voice said. The man wore a white shirt and black jeans—a terrible choice for working with animals, but that wasn’t his problem, so he ignored it. His dark hair fell gracefully over his forehead, and his plump lips gave him a sweet image that would definitely charm any woman—or man—who crossed his path.

Now everything made sense.

“Jimin, hi!” you quickly let go of Yoongi’s arm, giving the man in front of you the brightest smile you could muster. “It’s so nice to see you here—I mean, obviously you’re here, you work here, but you know, it’s always great running into you,” you said awkwardly, ending with a nervous laugh.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were the strangest creature in the world. It was the first time he’d seen you so nervous around a guy, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or get mad. What was a big brother supposed to do in these situations? Get jealous?

“Likewise, it’s really great to see you here so often. I’m grateful to have someone like you supporting the shelter,” Jimin said with a soft, charming smile. If you hadn’t been holding onto your brother’s arm, you might have collapsed right there. Were you being dramatic? Absolutely. Were you lying about it? Absolutely not. His simple gaze already made your legs weak, and his smile? Don’t even mention it.

The small gesture of your hands wrapped around Yoongi’s arm immediately caught Jimin’s attention. You’d never mentioned having a boyfriend, and you’d never come to the shelter with someone before. It was only natural to be curious, right? “And… who’s he...?”

“Yoongi,” your brother answered, straightening his back to appear taller and lowering his voice a few tones deeper than usual. “I’m her older brother. And you are?”

“Oh, sorry, how rude of me,” Jimin gave a slight bow before returning to his original stance, not without first running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. Yoongi swore he heard you squeal. “I’m Park Jimin. I work here.”

“Yoongi, why don’t you go check out the cats?” you laughed nervously, wishing your brother would disappear so you could be alone with Jimin. “I heard Unnie mention she’d really like to have a cat at home.”

“She said that?” Yoongi turned to you so quickly that it startled you; you knew his girlfriend was his soft spot, and you would use it against him as often as necessary if it meant he would drop his overprotective older brother act. Plus, you knew enough about his girlfriend to be sure she’d love to have a cat.

“Yes, she says it all the time,” you nodded quickly, pushing him toward where you knew the cats were. You hoped that would keep him distracted for a few minutes. “Now go, hurry, don’t waste time.”

Both you and Jimin watched as Yoongi walked off, confused, looking for someone he could ask about the cats. Only when he disappeared from your sight did you turn back to Jimin.

“So… how can I help today?” you asked with a smile, feeling your chest flutter as he looked at you with those kind, gentle eyes. You probably needed to calm down if you didn’t want to get caught just yet.

“I didn’t know you had a brother; I thought he was your boyfriend or something,” Jimin said softly, chuckling as he watched the cat in front of them shake itself vigorously to get the water off its fur. It was cute—its coat was light-toned, and its blue eyes were so bright and big that it was impossible not to fall in love with it. This little cat had arrived at the shelter the same day you did; it was skittish, wouldn’t let anyone touch or feed it, and it was crucial to give it a check-up due to a possible infection in its left eye. Jimin had been the only one able to keep it calm and treat it properly so the infection could heal effectively.

Maybe that was the moment when you fell for him. There was something about the sweet and caring way he handled animals that made your heart race and your stomach churn.

“Well, I don’t talk much about my family when we’re together,” you said with a slight smile, preparing the towel to cover the cat and dry it. It was still cold outside, and it wasn’t ideal for the cat to get sick at this time of year.

“I’d like to know more about them,” he murmured softly, gently cleaning the cat’s ears. The cat—who still didn’t have an official name but whom you had called Taemin in your mind from day one—closed its big eyes and started purring, rubbing its head against Jimin’s soft touch. Ah, how much you wished you were a cat. “And more about you in general.”

You turned to look at him, feeling a wave of warmth rise to your face as you realized he had been looking at you all along. Damn Park Jimin, why did he have to be so handsome? You felt like throwing the stupid towel in his face.

“O-oh, really? Why would you want that? I mean, my life’s not that interesting and—”

“But I’m interested,” he said, taking the towel from your hands and letting his fingers brush against yours in a way that definitely wasn’t accidental. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, and his damn lips were curved into a smile the whole time.

Calm down, Y/N, you can’t just go around kissing people without their permission—that’s not okay.

“Anything that has to do with you interests me. I thought that was obvious by now,” he said. After an intense staring match—which he obviously won—he wrapped Taemin in the towel and picked him up in his arms, one hand holding the cat’s weight to cradle him like a baby while the other rested on his furry head.

“Well, no, it wasn’t,” you replied awkwardly, trying to fully process whatever he was trying to tell you. Wasn’t it a bit presumptuous to think that meant he wanted something more with you? Had being single finally driven you crazy, making you see things that weren’t there? “Just so there’s no misunderstanding…” You rubbed your hands against your pants and looked at him expectantly. “Does that mean that…?”

Jimin let out a laugh before looking at you with his eyes turning into crescents from his smile. “It means I’d love to finally get your number.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Y-yes! Sure, g-give me your phone, and I’ll write it down right now,” you said, extending your hands toward him, trying to stop them from trembling so much and revealing how nervous you were. Too bad your body never obeyed your brain.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and handing it to you. His constant gaze on you made you even more nervous. You had to rewrite your number more than four times because you kept making mistakes. Both of you smiled when you called your number from his phone, and your ringtone sounded almost instantly.

Oh, shit. You had his number now.

“Y/N, let’s go!” Yoongi’s voice called from a few meters away. You were genuinely surprised to see that he actually had a small carrier in his hands, from which you could see two tiny green eyes staring at you from the darkness inside.

Its gaze looked a lot like Yoongi’s.

“Well, I guess you have to go,” Jimin said, adjusting Taemin in his arms as he watched Yoongi waiting for you near the exit. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to leave yet, but he understood he wasn’t in a position to ask you to stay, especially since you had come with your brother.

“Yeah, it seems like it,” you murmured, glancing briefly at your brother before putting all your attention back on Jimin. He had indirectly said he liked you, at least a little, right? And you had known each other for quite some time now… Well, you only live once, and you didn’t like living with regrets. You stepped closer to him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek—quite close to his lips—before stepping back and waving softly to say goodbye.

Then, you ran toward your brother as fast as you could, internally hoping he wouldn’t mention anything about it.

Ah, if only you had taken the time to notice Jimin’s face, you would have seen the bright pink covering his cheeks and the embarrassed smile spreading across his face like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

At least Yoongi had the luck to witness it, and he would definitely tease you endlessly about it.

Masterlist

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 5

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 9,438

Summary: You and Pero have talked things through - and it's time to figure out what comes next for you.

For both of you, though, that means being open, honest ... and asking for exactly what you want.

Rating: M/E : This is a smutty one, friends. It's finally happening.

Author's Note:

The end is here, and I cannot thank you enough for the support and interest you've shown in this story. It definitely grew from what I first envisioned it to be, and I'm really happy with the outcome - I hope you are, too. It's always so intimidating to write for a new character, but to know that one of my favorite Pero writers - I'm looking at you, @oonajaeadira - has enjoyed this take on him means a TON.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

You both sat on the couch while you ate, and Pero filled you in on exactly what had happened with the power at the party. 

“Something in the kitchen overloaded the wiring.” He waved his hand in the air, fingers clutching the remnants of a sandwich. “And when they tried to reset that breaker, they tripped the whole building.” He laughed, shaking his head and swearing under his breath. “That’s how it all came back so quickly.” 

“I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious.” He nodded as he chewed. “Did they get pissed at you since you weren’t right there to protect Christina?” 

“No.” He took another bite. “The assignment was never to be right beside her at all times. William and I were further away than her team, and I just happened to be near you.” You didn’t quite think that was the truth; Pero had to have searched for you in order to be that close, since you’d purposely moved almost all the way across the party space. “And I got to where they were as soon as I could to assess the situation. I did my job.” 

“You protected me.” You took a bite of the food he’d gotten you, giving yourself a few seconds to think. “You were there to protect someone else, and you still … You were mad at me, Pero. I didn’t expect …” 

“I did. And I would do it again. I told you that.” He sipped from his cup,  lips wrapping around the straw. “Even upset, I was still worried about you.” Pero balled up the wrapper from his meal and then leaned back against the couch cushions. “I was actually going to pull you to the side at the party and apologize because I acted like an asshole. But you didn’t give me the chance.” He looked past you and his eyes widened. “It’s almost midnight.” 

You looked, too, and with a smile you realized that as soon as the clock struck 12, you could be the first person to wish Pero a Merry Christmas. I wonder if he’s ever had anyone with him for a holiday like this before. “I’m sad we don’t have our hats from the meet and greet.” You looked back at him, grinning. “Santa Pero tucking me into bed on Christmas Eve would be -” 

He groaned, covering his face with both hands as you laughed, reaching over to settle your hand between his shoulders. “You would like that, wouldn’t you.” 

“I would.” Leaning in, you let your mouth hover just above his ear. “I would like that very much, Pero Tovar.” You weren’t used to having to take such a lead with men, but until Pero truly believed that your interest was genuine - and not short term - you had no issue with being a little more forward than usual to get results. Because I don’t think it’ll be this way forever. He just needs to get comfortable.

“I kept your toothbrush.” He looked over at you, a half smile on his lips. “I hoped you’d get  to use it again.” Really? You both sat up and Pero pointed at the hallway. “I’m going to clean up out here, if you need to do anything to get ready for bed.” He stood, reaching out with one hand. “I have one request though.” Arching a brow, you waited for him to continue. “Wait… and let me help you out of those clothes.” 

It took a little while for the two of you to do what you needed to do, but the whole time, your heart was racing. 

You figured he was nervous, too, but you hoped that it was in a good way, Pero’s desire for you outweighing any lingering apprehension he felt about the situation. By the time you made your way into his bedroom, flipping the light switch on and taking a look around the space, you were determined to do whatever it took to put him at ease. It keeps me from getting into my own head, too. 

There were a few photos on the walls - mostly of Pero, Lin and William, but there were a few more, too, that looked like they’d been taken on his phone and printed out. Some of them were scenery, some of them were cityscapes, and you made a mental note to ask him about them - and where they’d been taken. Later. Not tonight. 

His room was cozy, and out of the other places in his home that you’d spent time in, it felt the most like him. It wasn’t just because it smelled like Pero - it also seemed to be the most lived in. “I like seeing you in here.” He appeared in the doorway, and then leaned against it. “It’s unexpected, but I like it.” 

“Do you?” He nodded, eyeing you up and down. I like being in here. “Your bed looks comfortable.” You pointed, leaning back and against the dresser. “Is it?” 

“You’ll find out soon.” Pero stepped forward, his motion smooth and slow, almost graceful. “Before anything happens, I …” He stopped in front of you, lifting one hand to tilt your chin up. “After what I told you earlier, I figured you might have some … concerns.” Oh. The paying for sex. I didn’t … “It’s been months since I’ve done that. I’m careful, and always use protection. And afterward…” He wet his lips. “I get tested regularly, since all of my relationships are short-lived. I haven’t been with anyone since the last time I got results, so …” He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, holding it up. “I can show you, but -”

“I trust you.” You put a hand at the center of his chest. “And I know you’re going to say that it’s stupid to trust someone with something like that, but I do.” Because trust is important. He looked confused and then the expression turned to acceptance, Pero’s gaze moving over your face. “Anything else?” 

“No.” He paused, and then frowned. “Well, yes.” You smiled at that, giving him a chance to continue. “I might need …” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Just be patient with me, please?” 

“Patient?” He nodded slowly. “Of course, Pero.” But what does that even mean? “Do you need anything else, or are we in here for the night?” He thought for a few seconds and then moved his head from side to side, eyes locked with yours. 

“I only need you.” Inhaling sharply through your nose at the confession, you didn’t even think about it before you leaned in and kissed him, the tips of your fingers curling inward and against the material of his shirt. His hands settled in at your waist to hold you close, and when Pero returned the kiss, he did it with purpose, his full lips moving with yours like it wasn’t a new thing. 

You felt his tongue probing along your lower one and parted them for him, hoping that Pero wouldn’t tease you the same way he had earlier. Seconds later, you got your wish when it slipped past your lips to meet yours, Pero’s fingers digging in and making you sigh. He stopped immediately, breaking the kiss and backing off enough that you saw the wide eyed expression on his face. This must be the patience thing. 

“That was a good noise. Please don’t stop.” You moved your hand as you spoke, sliding it over so that you could begin to undo his buttons. “This shirt is a great color for you.” Breaking eye contact, you watched the motion of your fingers and listened to each of Pero’s sharp inhales as you moved downward. “I can’t wait to see it on the floor.” 

He snorted at that and you were thankful for it, the sound confirming that he wasn’t getting too lost in his own head about what was happening. “I was thinking the same thing earlier tonight about what you are wearing.” He spoke quietly, pulling the bottom hem of your shirt free from where it was tucked in. “But I was also wondering what you have on beneath it.” 

You reached the last button before his waist and then looked back up, biting your lip. “You’re about to find out.” His smile spread slowly, the expression one you weren’t used to seeing him wear. Pero tipped his head to the right and dropped a kiss at the corner of your mouth, hands sliding up and beneath your shirt so that his palms were flush with your skin. 

It was your turn to gasp then, the warmth of his hands comforting. He continued to kiss his way across the lower half of your face, lips skating over your cheek and then toward your ear before dropping down to follow the line of your jaw. Your hands stayed busy, moving lower to the button on his pants and popping it free, which gave you a chance to pull his shirt loose, too, and finish undoing it. 

He groaned when you touched his abdomen, pushing the sides of the shirt apart, and when Pero backed away, there was a wild look in his eyes.”I like this. The … slowness? You are taking your time, and… it is new.” Glancing over his shoulder so that you could see the clock on his nightstand, your eyebrows shot up. Perfect. 

“I’m just enjoying opening my first present.” You wrinkled your nose. “Merry Christmas, by the way. According to your clock, it’s after midnight.” He turned to look, too, and then said your name when he faced you again. 

“Sorry that I am not wearing a bow.” He wet his lips, the flash of his tongue distracting you. “To make this more festive.” 

“You don’t need one.” Using one finger, you prodded at the chain around his neck. “This is shiny enough.” And. “And I think you should leave it on.” That took him by surprise, but Pero quickly agreed, the arch of one eyebrow telling you that he was intrigued by your request. “Help me out here.” You moved your hands to his shirt again, easing it back and over his shoulders. “Let go of me for a second.” 

He did. It only took you moments to remove the silvery fabric, revealing that beneath it, he had on a black v-neck t shirt that was stretched over his chest and shoulders. Holy shit look at him. “What is that look for?” 

“I… you…” Gesturing with one hand, you laughed nervously. “You’re still almost fully dressed, and …” You trailed off as he reached down and pulled the shirt up and over his head, giving you your first real glimpse of skin. 

“There. Now I have solved your problems.” He grinned, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand.

“No, you’ve given me about a million more.” That made him laugh, and when Pero reached for your hand and squeezed it, leading you the few steps toward his bed, you followed. You eyed him as you walked, mapping the way his muscles looked as they moved beneath his skin and the way his unbuttoned pants sat at his waist, hugging his hips. 

“I think,” he started, turning back to look at you and reaching for your shirt, his fingers working the buttons. “That I enjoy you looking at me this way almost as much as I enjoyed the way you spoke to Christina that first night.” He paused, palming the swell of your breast with one hand and then returned to his task. “Would you say the same thing to anyone else that talked about me like she did?”

“Would you want me to?” You were breathless as you spoke, the feeling of his touch and the heat of his gaze making it hard for you to concentrate. “Is that something that I can… oh God, Pero, please just…” You broke off mid-sentence as he finished and began to push your shirt over your shoulders, his hands sliding slowly up your body. “Keep touching me.”

The smile remained on his face as he removed your shirt, the material sliding down your arms and then onto the floor. Instead of putting his hands back on your torso he used them to cradle your face, tilting it so that when he leaned in, your mouth was perfectly lined up with his. “Yes.” He mumbled the words between kisses, one hand siding back to the nape of your neck and the other dropping to your shoulder. “I would want you to.” 

You whimpered at that, wrapping your arms around Pero and stepping forward to press yourself against him. The feeling of his bare chest pressed to your body made you almost dizzy, and when your fingers dug into his back for balance, He grunted, pulling on the strap of your bra and dragging it over your shoulder. 

As much as you wanted to slow things down and savor the first time you went to bed with Pero, you knew that as soon as he removed your bra, there’d be no going back. And that’s fine. It surprised you when he broke the kiss and spun you around, winding his arms around you from behind and then ducking his head to kiss your shoulder. Wait, what is he… 

Pero rocked his hips forward, the hand on your stomach urging you backward while the other one slipped downward, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. Tipping your head back so that you could lean it against his shoulder, you sighed, closing your eyes. He was hard beneath his own pants, the length of him pressed against you, and when you reached for the hand on your belly, guiding it upward, he let you. 

He got the hint - Pero using that hand to paw at your chest, the contrast between his skin and your bra moving against your skin almost distracting you from the fact that his other hand kept moving lower and lower, pushing your pants with it. “Pero, I -” That was all you got out before he kissed you again, the angle not the most comfortable but still welcome, as was the way he bit down on your lower lip before sucking it between his. Fuck, I am lucky. 

He pushed the lace of your bra - one of the ones you saved for special occasions - to the side and then swirled a thumb over that nipple, the motion making your back arch and pushing you into him again. Pero’s mouth moved from yours back down to your shoulder and stayed there, the scrape of his stubbled chin sharp in contrast to the way he touched you elsewhere. But I don’t want him behind me. “What is wrong?” He spoke quietly, turning his head inward and nuzzling against your jaw. “You are stiff.” 

“I want…” You hummed, reaching down to stop the movement of the hand at your waist. “I want to look at you, Pero. I want to see you, not just feel you.” Turning to face him, you nodded at the sight of the confused expression he wore. “We only get this once.” 

You hoped he understood what you meant - that after that night, you’d never get the chance to be together for the very first time again. And I want it to feel personal, not like … not like it’s just something that’s happening. “Whatever you want.” He smiled again, hands gliding down to squeeze your hips. “I cannot wait to see all of you.” 

Taking that as a sign, you reached up and behind you, unhooking your bra and then shrugging out of it before letting it drop to the ground. He watched that, lips parted, and then looked back at you, his palms following the contours of your body as they rose. Yes. Finally. You arched your back again, encouraging him to keep going, and when Pero’s hands finally made it to your chest and he touched you, you moaned, closing your eyes. 

As soon as he heard that, his touch went from light and exploratory to certain, pushing your breasts together as he leaned down and mouthed at your collarbone again. And when he moved lower, you urged him to continue with one hand in his hair, fingers tangled in his locks. 

He took one nipple between his lips and sucked on it before releasing it only to follow that with a few quick flicks of his tongue before switching to the other side. You would have been content to stand there for hours, but Pero straightened up, his eyes blazing as he met your gaze again. “I think it’s time we get into that bed.” He cleared his throat, both hands still stroking over your skin. “Do you want me to turn the lights off?” 

“No.” You answered immediately, flattening one hand against his chest. “Unless that makes you more comfortable.” 

Your answer took him by surprise, but Pero wasted no time walking you backwards the few steps it took you to reach the bed. And when your shins made contact with the frame, he stopped you, both hands moving to the button - and zipper - of your pants, undoing them swiftly. He pushed them down so that you could step out of them, but left your underwear in place. 

You were stunned that you didn’t feel self conscious standing in front of him in so little, because it hadn’t been that way with your previous partners. You sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Pero and watching as he put a hand on his hip and stared at you. A few seconds later, his smile widened and Pero reached for his waist, finishing with the zipper and easing his pants down. 

He was wearing trunks, the waistband low on his hips, and the legs stretched tight around his upper thighs. “Wow, Pero.” You licked your lips, head shaking back and forth as you eyed him, lingering on his torso - and waist. “I had no idea you were hiding that under all those clothes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” He reached down, adjusting the elastic over one hip without looking away from you. “Beautiful.” Heat rushed to your cheeks then, and you ducked your head but still heard Pero’s quiet chuckle. “You do not like compliments either, hmm?”

“I’m not used to them coming from you.” Cautiously, you looked back up and put your hands out, waiting for him to take them. “Want to get in here with me?” He nodded, taking a half step forward and standing between your legs. “C’mere, Pero.” 

He leaned down, mouth finding yours again, and the series of events that followed happened almost before you could process it. 

As you kissed, Pero put one knee on top of the mattress and balanced his weight on it, using the forward motion of his body to urge you onto your back. He let go of your hands, sliding one of his beneath your head while he flattened the other palm on the bed, allowing him to hover over you. You moved your hands over his back, exploring the expanse of muscle as it flexed beneath your touch. I can’t believe this is happening. 

When you moved them down to his waist - and then lower, palms curved to follow his contours, Pero growled into your kiss, his hips snapping forward to push his length against the front of your hip. Your fingers curled inward, holding him in place - and Pero took the hint. 

He lowered his body more, grinding against you and letting you feel the weight of him. “Pero we need to move up. I…” Sighing as he paused long enough to breathe - and kiss the column of your throat - you shivered the words out. “I want us to be comfortable, and…” He backed off, giving you an opportunity to resituate yourself - and then he was on you again. 

He straddled you, legs spread wide so that when he leaned forward, he could continue the same motion as earlier. Your hands returned to the same place they’d been before, too, but instead of just touching him, you pushed your fingers beneath the material and held onto him, guiding his hips with skin-to-skin contact for the first time. 

But Pero didn’t kiss your mouth again; instead he worked his way down your throat to your chest, lips trailing along the length of your collarbone before he bit down gently, accompanied by a thrust of his hips. You could feel the cool metal of the chain as it dragged against your skin, your mind trying to focus on that and the feeling of his mouth at the same time - and failing. You were overwhelmed by him, and he’d barely touched you. I haven’t really touched him, either. 

He dragged his tongue over your skin and kissed his way down, drawing one nipple back between his lips before releasing it with a pop. “I could do this all night.” He spoke without moving away from you, the breath from each exhale warm as it hit your damp skin. “But I am impatient, and I’m sure you are, too.” 

He moved off of you and then laid down beside you, stretching out along the length of your body. When you turned your head to look at him, you weren’t expecting him to kiss you right away, his hand laying lightly against your cheek. 

Wiggling your hips, you settled in, heartbeat rapid, even after he backed away. “So I have to be patient, but you get to be impatient? That doesn’t seem fair.” He rolled his eyes, mouth opening to reply - but you didn’t give him the chance to. “Lay back.” He did as you asked, and then you propped yourself up on one elbow, taking him in. 

You were impatient too, but the desire to remind him that you were thinking beyond that night was more important. I need to show him that I want him. Sliding your hand over his stomach, you focused on the skin beneath his navel and above his waistband, fingertips circling over the dark trail of hair there before you moved back up, dragging the edges of your nails along his skin. Pero grunted, gritting his teeth - but didn’t look away. 

You leaned forward and kissed his chest, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips to his skin. You kept your hand moving, too, covering as much of his body as you could without wavering in your attention. There were parts of him that were more sensitive than others - his body jerked when you reached a spot on his side that was about halfway up his ribcage, and he groaned at the feeling of your tongue dragging slowly over the base of his throat, the breath leaving him in a whoosh when you took the chain between your teeth and tugged. 

But when your hand moved back down at the same time you redirected your kisses to the underside of his jaw, Pero stopped you, his fingers closing around yours. “No. Stop.” You raised your head in concern, but he didn’t look angry - just overstimulated. “If you touch me now, I will not make it inside of you.” He swallowed as your eyes widened in surprise. “Next time. I promise you, but … not yet.” 

“Ok, Pero.” You took a deep breath. “I understand.” He squeezed your hand and then released it, and you used it to balance yourself as you lowered your head again, mouth returning to its previous path. Pero’s hand moved almost lazily up your side as you left a trail of kisses across his face, though you avoided his mouth. You lingered at the patch in his beard before turning your head inward and nuzzling against his nose before taking another breath and deciding that if you were in - you were all in. 

When you pressed your lips to the bottom edge of his scar for the first time, Pero’s hold on you tightened, but you didn’t let that deter you. You followed the length of it with your lips, mindful of the fact that he could tell you to stop at any time, but it wasn’t until you softly kissed his closed eyelid - and felt dampness beneath your lips - that you pulled away. “Pero? Is everything… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“No.” He moved faster than you thought was possible from his position, rolling the two of you over so that you were on your back and he was above you again. “You are … no one has ever…” He couldn’t get the words out, but you understood what he was trying to say. “You are too good for me.” His voice was unsteady, but he kissed you in the pause before he spoke again, mouth gentle. “I do not deserve someone like you after what I -” He needs to stop this. 

“You do, Pero.” Reaching up, you took his face between his hands, forcing him to look at you. “You deserve good things. You deserve to be happy. And all of those people that treated you like shit don’t matter, because the way they were to you says more about them than it does about you. And I know this is entirely too fucking much for the first time with someone, but you need to hear it. If I have to keep reminding you that that’s the truth, I’ll do it every single time we’re together, if that’s what it takes.” 

He was stunned - you saw the surprise in his eyes … but to your relief, he didn’t contradict you. “If you say so.” He gave you a small smile. “Did I ruin it?”

“No.” Biting the inside of your lip, you cocked your head to the side. “You can go ahead and find out just how much you didn’t ruin it if you want.” He looked confused, but after a few moments seemed to understand, shifting back into position next to you and then dragging his hand down the length of your body. “You can touch me, Pero. I -” 

That was as far as you got before he did as you asked. Pero’s eyes went wide as he felt the dampness of the only piece of clothing you still wore, your back arching as you reacted to his touch. “You are … this is…” He looked down, chest heaving as he watched the movement. “Shit.” 

He touched you through the thin material first, two fingers gliding along the outline of you, and when you widened the spread of your legs to give him more room, he took the opportunity to add a third finger and some pressure, his attention still on his hand. But that’s fine, you rationalized as he swirled his fingers in a slow circle. I want him to watch. 

You reached down then, lifting your hips again to push the waistband down and over your thighs. Pero helped you out, tugging them further and exposing you to him for he first time. He slid his hand back up the inside of your thigh, and when he finally touched you, you moaned at the feeling, closing your eyes and pressing your head into the pillow. “Pero.” 

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, but it did something to Pero, who dropped his head, lips latching onto your shoulder while his fingers kept moving. He parted you with two of them, using a third to circle slowly over and over in the space between. It felt incredible, Pero’s touch not at all what you’d expected, and when he widened the circle and extended his fingers down, you curled your toes and opened your eyes - one hand fisting the blankets beside you and the other clamping down against his bare back. 

He slid one finger into you and you rocked your hips forward, Pero replacing lips with teeth as you tilted your chin down, burying your nose in his hair. One finger became two, Pero thrusting them in and out of you slowly. He was slow and methodical, entirely focused on what he was doing - and you couldn’t get enough. 

Widening the spread of your legs even more, you rolled your hips to meet each thrust, mouth open as you took and released quick, shallow breaths. You didn’t even register that he’d released your skin from between his teeth until Pero’s head rose and he spoke your name. “I think you’re ready for me. I hope you’re ready for me, because -”

“Yes. I - ohhh.” He kept his eyes on you as his hand continued to move, and even though it was difficult, you didn’t close yours. You caught the smile he gave you as he watched your reaction, Pero’s lips quirking upward and his eyes darkening. “Need you, Pero.” Reaching down, you touched his wrist, pushing on it gently. “Please.” 

He removed his fingers slowly, and you hummed as they slipped free. “Give me a second.” He brought his hand up, eyeing how slick they were - and then before you had a chance to say anything, he popped them into his mouth, eyes closing at the taste of you. You gasped, but it didn’t cover up the sound of his deep, satisfied groan. Holy fuck, I wasn’t expecting that, I didn’t… 

He rolled away from you, fingers still in his mouth, and then you heard the bedside table drawer open. It’s happening. But Pero stood up suddenly, climbing out of the bed and then tossing a condom toward you. “What are -”

“What do you want?” He glanced down as he spoke, hands at his hips and beginning to push his underwear down. “No, that is the wrong question.” He looked back up, the smile back on his face, though that time, it was more of a smirk. “How do you want this?” 

“I…” You were torn between looking him in the eye and wanting to watch the final bits of his skin come into view. “Pero, I…” He laughed, the sound low, and then stepped out of his underwear, briefly bending over before he straightened up, giving you an unobstructed view at his entire body. Wow. Ok. You wanted to touch him - wanted to know what he felt like in your hand and sliding between your fingers. You wanted to taste him, too, the thought of weight of him against your tongue and the heat of him as he came consuming you. But that’s not happening tonight. 

Pero reached down with the same hand he’d touched you with to wrap his fingers around his length, which distracted you again. Damn him. “Well?” He stroked himself lazily, and you filed the motion away for later, paying attention to the way he held himself and where he squeezed just a little extra. His hands are so goddamn big. “I need to know how -”

“Whatever you’re used to?” You rested one hand on your abdomen, turning your cheek toward the pillow without breaking eye contact. “I want the opposite.” It was yet another risk to ask Pero to consciously choose a different position and approach to sex than he usually did, but you hoped that he understood why you were asking for it - and what you hoped it would signal. “Is that alright?” 

He was surprised by your request, but it didn’t keep him immobile for long, Pero putting one knee on the mattress and climbing back into bed. He reached for the foil square with his free hand and only let go of himself when he moved to open it. “It’s more than alright.” He looked down, and then resituated his hand at his base as he rolled the condom on, nodding his head. “It is a good reminder.” 

He crawled toward you then and leaned over, using the knuckles on one hand to stroke your cheek. “A reminder?” 

“Yes.” Pero stretched out beside you, rolling onto his side and facing you. “That this is not that.” He understands. Pero closed the distance between you, his hand on your side. When he kissed you, it wasn’t quite timid but there was a slight hesitation before he fully committed to it, his full lips slotted with yours before he parted them, urging you to do the same. It’s going to be OK, Pero.

As the kiss deepened, he used the hand on your side to guide your leg into place, positioning it so that your thigh rested atop his hip. You could feel him that way - pressing against you, each shallow flex of his hips increasing the contact. 

“Are you sure?” He spoke between kisses, his damp forehead pressed to yours. “That you want this? With me?” 

“I am.” You nodded, moving your hand from the back of his head to his shoulder. “Are you?” He didn’t speak, but Pero reached between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your center again as he lined himself up. You kept eye contact with him as he inched forward, and were unable to look away, even as he used a slow thrust to push inside of you. Finally. 

You nodded after a few seconds and then Pero rocked forward again, moving his hand to the back of your thigh to pull you closer. “I need a minute.” His voice was strained, and you could see that he was gritting his teeth. “If I move, I -” You kissed him then, interrupting his words and trying to keep your own hips from moving. It’s alright. 

He didn’t need to explain to you, because you understood. You were already tightly wound from the way he’d touched you, and thanks to the way he was holding you open, you knew that once he found a rhythm, you’d be able to come from the friction of your body against his alone. And if I finish quick, he will, too. 

Pero licked into your mouth, tongue dragging over the edges of your teeth, and when he moved his hips, you did, too, meeting his motion. As he picked up speed, the kiss turned sloppier and his grip on your thigh tightened. You threaded your fingers through his hair, gripping it and tugging, mouth hanging open as you lost yourself in him. 

You stopped trying to kiss him back and instead turned your head so that you could pant into his ear, Pero’s cheek pressed against the pillow and each of his exhales hitting your throat. He kept hold of your thigh and lengthened his strokes, slowing down. What is he… 

When he rolled forward, pushing you onto your back, you went willingly, Pero angling his hips so that he could keep moving. But when he pulled all the way out of you you cried out, fingers tightening in his hair and against his shoulder. “Why did you stop?” You gasped the words out, eyes wide open as you stared up at him. “Pero, why did -”

“I did not stop.” He murmured the words, leaning down to kiss you again as he ran the hand on your thigh along your skin. “I paused so I could make us more comfortable.” After sitting up, he reached down with both hands and widened the spread of your legs so that he could kneel between them. You didn’t miss it when his gaze moved over the length of your body, or the way his jaw twitched at the sight of you, Pero’s fingers curling against your thighs. 

“You’re a fucking tease, Pero Tovar.” You covered your face with both hands. “And you know it.” He laughed, the sound low, and then you felt the mattress dip as he shifted, one of his hands releasing your leg. I want to see this. 

Propping yourself up on both elbows, you looked down and watched as he concentrated, eyes moving between himself and you as he re-aligned. Pero’s shoulders rose and fell as he took and released a deep breath… and then he was sliding into you again, the sight of his length disappearing into your body making your eyes close as you collapsed back onto the bed. 

He started with deep, slow thrusts as he leaned forward, hands moving to the blankets on either side of your body. By the time he’d stretched out enough that he could bend his elbows and rest his weight on them, those movements had quickened. He went deeper from that angle, each forward flex of his hips accompanied by a quiet grunt and met with a reflex thrust of your own. 

You flattened one foot on the bed and bent your knee, angling that leg outward while wrapping the other one around his hip again, your heel digging into the back of his calf and urging him even closer - which was next to impossible. As you closed your eyes, you raised both hands and dug your nails into his shoulders, not even trying to conceal the noises you made - and to your delight, Pero didn’t, either. 

You’d remember them forever - the way he grunted and groaned, a quiet snarl escaping his lips when you lifted your hips and met a particularly sudden thrust of his, which was followed by an equally devastating one, his head dropping so that the tip of his nose met the front of your shoulder. He kept it there for the next few minutes, his bedroom filled with the sounds both of you made, but when he spoke your name, pulling it from deep within himself, you forced your eyes open, watching as he raised his head and looked down at you. 

Pero didn’t falter in his movement, and you bit your lip at the way he gritted his teeth, nose wrinkling before he was able to speak again. “You feel incredible.” He swallowed, nodding as he continued. “Fucking perfect.” It was enough to make you shiver, and you knew he caught the motion when he actually smiled, Pero leaning down to kiss you on the mouth. “Will you come this way? Is -”

“Mmhmm.” You closed your eyes and gasped, back arching off of the bed when he swiveled his hips, the length of him buried inside you. “Oh, fuck, Pero.” He switched to shallow thrusts, giving you a chance to collect yourself. “Can you?” 

“Of course.” He licked his lips, nodding. “I am holding back, I -” 

“Don’t.” Don’t you dare. “I don’t want you to.” Moving one hand from his back to between your bodies, you nodded again, flexing your calf muscles. “Come, Pero. Let me feel you.” You dragged your hand over your skin and moved your fingers into place, making sure to graze his skin with the edges of your nails. He looked confused for a second, but when you went lower, spreading your fingers wide enough so that you could feel where he entered you, the look in his eyes changed to one of understanding. “Fuck me like you’ve waited three years to do it, Pero.”

He sped up again, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before he slammed them shut and tilted his head back. You closed yours, too, sighing. It felt good, the length of him sliding between your fingers before you moved your hand into place, two fingers pressed against your skin and gliding in a slow circle. But before you could find your own rhythm, Pero slowed down again, a growl tearing from his throat. 

“No. Not like this. Not with you.” You opened your eyes, the motion of your hand stuttering - and it stopped when you saw the way he was looking at you. He’s never looked at … oh, shit. Pero’s brow was furrowed, his lips parted, and he was staring at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted to look at again. “Let me watch you.” 

He sunk into you all the way and then paused, rotating his hips in a slow circle. It trapped your hand between the two of you, and Pero’s eyes were molten when he spoke again, voice low and full of need. 

“Let me feel you.” 

He drew his hips back, giving your hand the space it needed to begin moving again. You were hesitant. But when he nodded, arching a brow, you let out a long breath and did just that. 

Starting slow, you circled your fingers, dragging them through your slick and spreading it over your skin. You hummed at your own touch, letting your mind wander to Pero’s fingers earlier, and when he started to move again, gradually increasing his pace to match the motion of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. “Pero, it won’t…” You hummed, adding pressure and a little speed. “It’s going to be quick, and -”

“Good.” He leaned down, mouth finding yours briefly. “We have waited too long.” 

You agreed, and that was all you needed to speed up more, touching yourself the way you usually did. Eyes opening again, you found that Pero was still watching you, though his were heavy lidded - evidence of his body’s response to yours. 

As the moments passed, you felt your own body’s response - a heat in your belly, the quickening of your heartbeat, muscles tensing as you got closer and closer to a moment that hours earlier, you hadn’t imagined was possible. “Pero, I -” 

He smiled at you, nodding, and when you let go of him to drop your hand to the mattress, he grabbed for it without missing a beat, linking your fingers together and bringing both of them up next to your head. His grip tightened with your gasp, Pero’s hips flexing forward at the same time you thrust yours upward, increasing the friction. 

It was enough. 

You came with a gasp, fingers stuttering as your muscles clenched around him, Pero’s motion continuing as your toes curled and you squeezed his hand. He mumbled two words - that’s it - and you watched as his smile grew, your own mouth hanging open as you pressed your head into the pillow. Oh my god. 

You cried out as a wave of pleasure coursed through you, the feel of him moving within you prolonging the moment - and then Pero was coming, too, one last sharp thrust burying him as deep as possible as he finished. You felt him as he filled the condom, Pero’s release coming in spurts as your body pulled him in deeper and sent a second wave through you, making you shudder beneath him. Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, I… 

Your hand fell away from your body and Pero’s head dropped again, his breath ragged as he rested his forehead against your shoulder and more of his weight on you. 

Neither of you said anything for almost a minute, and to your surprise, it was Pero who opened his mouth first, head turning inward so that when he spoke, it was against the side of your neck. “I do not want to move.” He sighed and then kissed your skin, lips pressed to your pulse point. “Are you alright? You -” 

“Pero.” Unlinking your fingers, you reached up and dragged them through his hair, pulling the sweat-damp strands away from his face. “I’m more than alright.” He lifted his head to look at you, eyes wide. “And I don’t want to move either, but if we don’t, I’ll fall asleep right here, and that would be messy.” 

His lips twitched into a half smile and before you could say anything, he was kissing you, tongue dipping past your lips and into your mouth. I’ll never say no to this. He kissed you deeply, only breaking it when he needed to breathe… but the smile was still there and his eyes were bright - Pero obviously sated but still alert. “You’re right.” Without saying anything else, he reached down between you and then pulled out, rolling away and laying on his back beside you. 

You missed him immediately, and weren’t able to conceal your gasp at the way it felt to realize that, head turning to the side so that you could look at him. “Pero, I -”

“No.” Turning his head, he winked at you. “Not yet. We will talk when we are done.” 

Ten minutes later, you stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in one of his robes only to find the bedroom empty. 

Your pulse had settled and you felt calmer, though you were still reeling from what had happened between you. You hadn’t stopped smiling while you were in the bathroom - even as you washed your face and brushed your teeth again, the expression had stayed put. And it’ll be there for a long time, too. Because … that was everything I wanted. 

“Are you going to sleep in that?” He spoke from behind you, and when you turned toward the sound, you saw that he was holding two bottles of water, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe. “Because if you are, you are overdressed.” 

He’d only put on his underwear, and you didn’t even try to keep from staring at him greedily, taking in the sight of his almost naked body. “I didn’t plan on it.” You untied the belt and let it drop to the floor, the sides of the robe splitting apart to expose a strip of skin at the center of your body. “If that’s alright.” 

“It is preferred.” He moved closer, holding one of the bottles out to you. “I usually wear nothing to bed.” That was a piece of information you filed away, too, and after draining almost half of the bottle, you shrugged the robe down and over your shoulders before tossing it to the side and getting back into bed - though you climbed under the covers that time. 

He flipped the light switch off and then drank deeply from the bottle before setting it down and taking off his underwear. Even in the low light coming in through the slats in the window blinds, you could see him clearly, watching his outline before he climbed into bed and moved as close to you as he could get. “What were you going to say earlier?” He flattened his hand atop the pillow as he spoke, though he didn’t touch you. 

“I was going to say,” you started as you stroked the length of his bare arm, knuckles dragging along his skin. “That when you just … rolled away? It was … I missed …” Just say it. “It’s so stupid, Pero, but you were there and then you weren’t, and I realized that -”

“It is not stupid.” He moved his hand enough so that he could touch your face, his thumb sliding over your cheek. “I was … abrupt. I will work on that.” He inched closer, his cheek scraping across the pillow. “With you, hopefully.” He blinked slowly, and you felt as he held his breath, waiting for your response. Oh, Pero. 

“We might need a lot of practice.” Biting your lip, you also moved your head closer, though you didn’t break eye contact. “But I’m up for it.” A smile spread slowly across his face, Pero’s eyes widening slightly before he closed them, mouth finding yours in a brief - but tender - kiss. 

“Practice is the only way to improve.” Moving his hand from your face to your side, Pero curled his fingers over your hip. “I hope that tonight was what you wanted it to be.” Is he seriously questioning this? 

“It started out kind of rocky, but yeah, Pero. It was.” You paused, thinking. “It is.” It made your head spin to think about everything that had happened throughout the previous evening - and the weeks leading up to it. But it’s worth it. He’s worth it. “How do you feel about this?”

“About this or about you?” He narrowed his eyes, but then grinned. “Because the answer is the same for both: I feel good. This is what I want.” He kissed you again, nodding. “You are what I want.” 

His direct response caught you off guard. But as the kiss continued, his arm winding around you and pulling your body flush against his as you flattened your hand against his back, you understood that it shouldn’t have. If there was anything that you knew to be true about Pero, it was that when he spoke, the words had meaning. It takes him a lot to get there, though.

The kiss ended and as Pero settled back in against the pillow, he yawned, you not far behind. “It is late.” He sighed, moving his leg so that he could hook it over your calf. “We should sleep.” You agreed - you were exhausted, and the warmth and comfort of being in bed next to him was making you drowsy. 

Instead of replying, you tucked your chin and rested your forehead against his collarbone, closing your eyes. I could get used to this. He kissed the top of your head and you felt when he relaxed, the weight of his arm heavy where it laid against your body. I might already be used to this. 

You began to doze off, but were interrupted by the quiet utterance of your name, Pero’s fingers dancing over your lower back. “Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me tonight and making me listen to you.” 

“It wasn’t just me.” You didn’t move your head, speaking the words with your lips just above his skin. “Christina was -”

“She put us in there, but it was all you. You said what I needed to hear, and I know you would not have made so much of an effort if you did not mean it.” He kissed you again, that one lingering. “Please don’t stop doing that.” 

You assured him that you wouldn’t, but the steady beat of his heart was lulling you to sleep, and you didn’t even try to open your eyes. We’ll talk more later. 

The following afternoon, you pulled up in front of William and Lin’s, Pero’s fingers tightly laced with yours on the center console. 

He’d woken up before you - and woken you up with his hands and mouth, Pero trailing touches and kisses over every part of your body that he could reach without disturbing you. From there, you’d had each other again - once in the bed and then again after breakfast, Pero pulling pleasure from you with his fingers in the kitchen before leading you into back into his bedroom. 

You’d showered at his place and changed back into your clothes, which made the stop at your house short, leaving you plenty of time to get to your destination. You hadn’t talked much about what came next, or how you’d present yourselves to your friends. But the fact that they know I left with Pero and didn’t come to get my car was probably telling. 

“Pero, we need to talk about something before we go in.” Shifting in your seat, you squeezed his hand. “What will we tell them? They’re not stupid, but -”

“They are not.” He cocked his head to the side, gesturing at the house with his free hand. “But is it their business? We don’t… we don’t even know what this is, do we?” 

“I know what I’d like it to be.” Pressing your lips together, you took a deep breath. “And what I think it could be, but … it’s only been one night, so maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just say that it’s not something we’re ready to talk about.”

“Then we are on the same page.” He leaned closer, lips curving upward as he smiled. “Maybe we should just wait and see if they ask, and then we decide how to respond.” The same page? Really? It shouldn’t have surprised you, especially with the way Pero had responded to your touch that morning and the previous night. It was obvious there was more to things than just physical attraction, that it hadn’t waned between you after the first time you’d been together. 

You wanted to kiss him in reply, but instead just nodded, giving him a return smile before pulling your hand free. “Want help carrying stuff in? I know you only have a couple presents, but I might as well make myself useful.” He laughed, nodding, and moments later, you were walking side by side up the driveway and toward the door. As the two of you paused on the front step, Pero reached for the doorbell while you froze, eyes on the space just above his head. Shit. Damn you, Lin. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He frowned, and then tilted his head back, looking up, too. “Oh. Is that … what I think it is?” 

“Yes.” You chuckled, looking down and closing your eyes. “That definitely wasn’t there yesterday. I can’t believe she’d put mistletoe up after the diner. It -”

“She is clever.” Pero took a step forward, reaching out to touch your chin. “I should have known.” His gaze dropped to your lips, Pero’s expression thoughtful. “It is tradition.” Heart pounding, you parted your lips and closed the distance between you, your fingers tight around the handle of the gift bag you carried. It is. “And I did say it was not the mistletoe I was saying no to, just the timing.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Pero.” He laughed quietly but did as you asked, his lips warm against yours. You leaned into him, one hand flat against his chest, and your own heart beating wildly behind your ribcage. You meant to pull away quickly, but he didn’t let you - instead moving the hand at your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you in place while he continued to kiss you. He nipped at your lower lip, the bite of his teeth making you gasp. 

But Pero only laughed quietly and did it again before he deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing forward to meet yours and giving you a taste of the mouthwash he’d used at your place. 

“Well that worked out better than I thought it would.” With a jolt, you broke the kiss and whipped your head to the side, finding Lin and William standing in the open doorway, her phone held in her hands. Oh no. “Now I don’t have to ask how last night went.” 

She lowered the device and your attention moved to William, the man’s attempt to hold a laugh back not at all successful. “No, you don’t.” Pero cleared his throat and stepped closer to you, his arm winding around your waist. “And now we don’t have to figure out a way to tell you, either.” 

William laughed and Lin’s eyes widened as they stepped to the side to let you in. Say something. This isn’t what we just talked about. “Pero, I -”

He stopped you with a kiss to the temple as you crossed the threshold, his arm tightening. “This makes things much easier, I think.” 

He wasn’t wrong. William and Lin had seen - firsthand - what they needed to see in order to answer questions about what had happened between you the night before, and about whether or not things were resolved in regard to the contract. They’d still probably ask questions, which was fine. But maybe now they’ll do it in private. You knew you’d say much more just to Lin, and figured that Pero would be the same with William. 

After taking your coats and boots off, the four of you headed into the living room. You and Pero put your gifts beneath the tree with the others and then moved to sit on the couch while William and Lin chose an oversized chair, the woman curling up on his lap. 

Pero lowered himself onto the cushions first, and then, to your surprise, reached up to take your hand, fingers closing around yours before he pulled down on it. Oh. Is he… “Come here.” You sat next to him, leaving very little space between you. He released your hand as you got comfortable, draping his arm across your shoulders and urging you to lean against him. He is. He really… 

You couldn’t help yourself, closing your eyes as you leaned in further to kiss Pero’s stubbled cheek before whispering the words “I like this” into his ear. He hummed, fingers tightening on your shoulder. There was no containing your smile as you straightened up, moving your hand over to rest it on his thigh. I really like this. 

“So.” Lin cleared her throat and then spoke, her eyes bright as she looked between you. “Are we opening presents now, or after we eat?”