#i was bringing snacks from the kitchen at the time and i was like oh we've had mainstream bollywood movies now

[partiallysame]

Being Price’s lil wife

-Task force 141 knew Price was married. Man wore his ring religiously, always putting it back on the second they were in the helicopter/plane/whatever after each mission

-He’d come to work with a lunch packed with a cute lil heart note

-To be honest they all assumed you were the same age as Price (old) He always said he’d been “married for years” (3)

-They never knew your name, Price only ever referred to you as The Missus

-Gaz swore Price had a photo of you in his wallet (he did) but they never knew what you looked like untilllllllll

-You called your husband simply to complain. The AC had gone out and the repair man wouldn't be able to get there for a couple days. No no this simply would not do, his perfect lil lady could not be uncomfortable in her own home he wouldn’t have it but fuck he’s out of the country for a few more days. His team however is not and while stupid, they do know how to do maintenance work (why? Just because.)

-He called his team for a very important mission. Gave them the address, accompanied with “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing about you causing any trouble or being disrespectful to the Missus you hear?” The boys were absolutely giddy to finally see the ever so important Missus.

-The second you opened the door Soap was apologizing for having the wrong house and oh so politely asked if you knew where the Price household was. This had to be the wrong one because there you stood, pretty young thing, big doe eyes. Standing in just a big shirt ending at the very tops of your thighs, lashes batting at the three soldiers standing at your door.

-“You’ve got the right place. John told me you were coming, please come in.” You had to hold in a giggle, watching all of their eyes go wide. Gaz immediately looking at the sky, the floor, anywhere but the wife of his captain that he was just undressing with his eyes.

-When you turned to guide them into the house they all saw PRICE printed on the back of the large tshirt just barely covering your ass (this is your own home pants are never required and its hot as hell without the ac). Now it was Ghost’s turn to look anywhere but at you.

-As they worked you’d bring them water or snacks. They now understood why Price kept you hidden from them. The perfect lil housewife. The woman of all of their dreams already taken.

-When they were finished they went to the kitchen to inform you they were done only to find a full meal set on the table waiting for them but worst of all? There you were reaching up to the top cabinet. On your tippy toes, your shirt (Price’s shirt) riding up enough to expose the bottom of your ass and lacey pink panties. Soap had to bite his knuckle to keep from groaning. Ghost grabbing the tops of his teammates heads, turning them away from the incredible sight in front of them.

-Price was right to keep you hidden from them

-They might just have to sneak in and break something every time Price was out of town if it meant this is what they got to see.

[mommyslittlebird]

It Felt Like Coming Home

WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After being strong for so long, the veil starts to slip.

CW: Dissociation, Crying, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Gang, I don't know how long this slow burn is gonna last. I might have to adjust to a medium paced burn, cause I apparently don't know how to write a blossoming relationship in a compelling way. For that reason, this one is kinda short.

Chapter 3 of A Room of Your Own

The next morning you found yourself awake earlier than usual. Again. You had a habit of not sleeping well when adjusting to new environments. So you once again made your way to the kitchen before sunrise, where you once again found Wanda leaned up against the counter in the same silk robe from yesterday.

She smiled over her coffee mug when she saw you. “Good morning! Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

You nodded, taking a seat on a stool at the island. 

“Same as yesterday? With my creamer?” 

“Yes please,” you yawned. 

She slid the mug across the island and leaned forward against the counter. “Did you sleep okay?”

You took a sip of coffee and nodded. You hadn’t really slept okay, but you didn’t have any desire to share that with Wanda. She was clearly trying very hard to make you comfortable. She wasn’t buying it. There was clearly something under the surface that didn’t escape her notice. She let the silence sit for a long moment, hoping you would say something. There was a warm glimmer in her green eyes urging you to speak up. You looked down into your mug, idly tapping the mug with your pointer finger. 

Realizing you were going to need more prompting, Wanda spoke again. “How are you feeling? About everything.”

You shrugged, not looking back up at her. You felt surprisingly fine, aside from not sleeping much. But there was another feeling too. One you couldn’t quite describe. It felt like you were stuck in a perpetual hypnopompic state, trapped in the liminal space between being asleep and awake. You were probably just tired. “I’m alright. Just tired, I think. I always have a bit of trouble sleeping in new places.”

Wanda nodded, not entirely satisfied with your answer, but unwilling to press you any further. 

You both turned your head as a very tired looking Natasha came through the doorway. Even with bedhead and tired eyes, she was beautiful. And the smile that spread across Wanda's face as her wife approached was breathtaking. They were picturesque: a type of beauty you could see even through your grief. You had a good feeling about them. Naive as it may be, you were compelled to trust them.

“Morning Y/N,” she yawned, wrapping her arm around Wanda’s waist. “I trust Wanda is taking care of you?” 

You nodded and smiled at them both. “She is.”

“Mmm, she always does,” she hummed, kissing her wife’s cheek. Natasha poured herself a cup of coffee, setting up next to you on the island. She slid you a pen and a pad of paper. “Wands and I are gonna go to the store in a bit. If you’re up for it, you can write down a list of the things you want. Favorite foods, snacks, school supplies, whatever you want.”

You cautiously took the pen. “Oh you all don’t have to go shopping for me or anything just because I’m staying here.”

Natasha leaned against the island, bracing her elbows against the marble. “What if I want to?” She asked in a low, almost testing tone before straightening back up. “It’s really no problem. We’re going to the store anyway. No reason to have you make a separate trip.”

You smiled. You really did hate the grocery store, so you weren’t going to argue. “Careful,” you said lightheartedly. “I might get used to you spoiling me. Then you’ll really have to kick me out.”

Wanda chuckled. She loved seeing this witty, playful side of you peak out beneath your shy, meek exterior. Natasha seemed to bring it out of you. Natasha seemed to bring it out of a lot of people. You couldn’t see the mischievous smirk that spread across her face. “Oh don’t worry. By the time Nat and I let you go you’ll be so high maintenance you won’t settle for anything less. I think you’re due for a good spoiling.” 

A faint blush rose to your cheeks as you finished your list and slid it back to Natasha. “Five items. Woah. I tell you what Wanda, this kid really pushes the limits,” Natasha teased, setting the pen and paper back down in front of you. “Make it ten and I’ll promise to reign in Wanda when it comes to spoiling.” She gives you a wink as you quickly scribble down a few more things. 

************

After a quick trip upstairs to get dressed and ready, they both headed off to the store, leaving you alone to explore the house. The house wasn’t necessarily a “mansion”, per se, but it was certainly bigger than any house you’d ever lived in. Every room had its own special charm. You carefully perused all the repurposed bedrooms and storage spaces you came across, thoroughly exploring all of your surroundings.

Your favorite room, though, was Wanda’s office. It appeared to be a repurposed bedroom on the top floor with a massive window lining the wall and a huge L-shaped desk. It was cluttered, but in a way that made it look more lived-in than messy. Best of all, there was a small indentation in the wall where you guessed there used to be a closet that Wanda had fashioned into a reading nook. The nook sat, pristine and unused, but you could see yourself curling up there for hours. Maybe Wanda would let you sit here and read while she worked. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t even hear the front door click open as Wanda and Natasha returned from the store. 

“Y/N? We’re back!” You heard Natasha call from the foyer. You quickly left the office, closing the door as if you were scared they would catch you. You weren’t sure why the idea made you so nervous. They made it clear you were free to explore. You just naturally felt like an intruder, despite being a welcome guest.

“And we have a surprise for you!” Wanda sang as you came down the steps. 

She sat down a number of paper bags before pulling a mossy green blanket from one of them and handing you the silky soft material. You smiled and took it from her, rubbing the soft material against your cheek. 

“I know we’re still getting to know each other, but I noticed yesterday how much you love soft material and I thought you might like a new blanket for your new bed,” she explained, swaying nervously on her feet. She was worried you weren’t going to like it. 

You hummed contently, unwrapping the blanket and throwing it over your shoulders. It was so incredibly soft and it was big enough to cover your whole bed. Much more suitable than the throw blankets you’d brought with you. “Thank you so much. It’s so nice and soft.”

“And we got some popcorn and ice cream because we were thinking about having a little movie night,” Natasha added. “What do you think? We could gather up all the softest blankets and build you a little nest.”

You stood still, shocked by the suggestion. You thought in staying with them, you’d just be a roommate, coming and going with a few scattered interactions. But this wasn’t just a passing interaction like morning coffee was. They were proposing that you spend the evening together. They wanted to hang out with you.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Wanda blurted out after a long moment of silence. “You’ve had a rough couple of days. If it’s more beneficial to just take some time to yourself, hang out in your room, that’s absolutely fine. It’s just a suggestion. If you wanted company.” 

“A movie sounds nice,” you said quietly, pulling the blanket tight over your shoulders. 

Wanda visibly relaxed and smiled softly. “Then I’ll put these groceries away while you two find some blankets.”

“I found one!” Natasha shouted playfully, picking up your blanket wrapped form and carrying you to the corner of the couch where she gently set you down. “You stay here and get comfortable. I’ll go round up some more soft things.”

Both women returned a few minutes later, Wanda with a big bowl of buttery popcorn, and Natasha with a random amalgamation of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that she promptly dropped directly on top of you, burying you in the heap. 

“Natalia Alinovna Romanoff!” Wanda shouted disapprovingly, setting down the popcorn bowl and rushing to dig you out. You emerged with a giddy, content smile, snuggled up with a fuzzy body pillow. “She could’ve suffocated.”

Natasha jokingly rolled her eyes, which earned her a playful slap on the bicep from Wanda. She couldn’t possibly stay mad at Natasha after watching you happily wiggle under the comforting weight of the soft blankets. You twisted and flopped around like a puppy walking in circles and scratching its pillow so it could lay in its bed just right. The women smiled and giggled affectionately. 

After a few minutes, you finally settled, surrounded in a nest of blankets. 

“Do you have something in particular you’d like to watch?” Wanda asked, grabbing the remote and settling in next to Natasha on one end of the large couch. 

You shrugged but they couldn’t see it under all the blankets. “I don’t know. Maybe Robin Hood or The Aristocats. Something lighthearted and old.”

Wanda clicked the remote, waving her arm in different directions to try to get the TV to respond. After a moment, Natasha took the remote and easily found an old movie on Disney +. Wanda sneered and scrunched up her face. Natasha kissed her nose. 

The movie played in the background, but you spent more time paying attention to the women curled up on the end of the couch. They weren’t “cuddling”, per se, but their bodies weren’t pressed tightly together with their legs nearly intertwined. They both looked so at peace with each other. You yearned for that feeling. 

“You wanna join us?” Natasha asked almost playfully when she caught you staring. 

Wanda, who was closer to you, opened her arm and beckoned you over. 

You paused for a moment before emerging from your blanket nest, crawling up and laying hesitantly beside her. You rested your head in the crook of her arm, but kept your hands curled up against your own chest. 

“Well hang on now, I want some cuddles too. Get over here,” Natasha said with a mischievous smile before pulling you in between them. You giggled as you were gently pulled over Wanda plopped into a small spot on the couch in between them. You nearly head butted Natasha in the process. Wanda pulled your new blanket from the heap and tucked it around the three of you. Natasha wrapped her arm around you and smiled. “Much better.”

You settled into Natasha's chest with your back pressed up against Wanda while she ran her hand gently up and down your spine. You sighed, content in their cocoon of warmth. You felt so supported and loved, affectionately squished between the two women. 

“Are you alright, honey? You're shaking,” Natasha asked, looking down at you with a hint of concern. You furrowed your brow in confusion. You weren’t shaking. But as you started to pay more attention to your body, you noticed she was right. There was a small, almost imperceivable tremble in your muscles. Almost imperceivable unless you happen to be laying on top of someone, of course. 

“And your muscles are so tight. Like you're constricting your entire body,” Wanda added, sitting up to look at your face. “If this is making you uncomfortable we don’t have to…”

“No,” you interrupted. “No it’s not that. It’s just…” You were suddenly aware of your body in a way you hadn’t been in quite some time. It felt like returning to a home you didn’t remember leaving. It was like when you’re going somewhere and you get to your destination, and you can’t remember the drive. You were just… home.

Before you even recognized it, the shield you had unintentionally built started to crumble. Tears fell from your eyes, wetting Natasha’s shirt. “Oh poor baby, you must be exhausted, living with your body so… activated all the time,” Wanda cooed sympathetically.

Neither of them were surprised. In fact, both women acted as if they had anticipated this. Natasha pulled you closer, cradling your head under her chin and gently rocking you. “It’s okay. You're safe now, baby. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you. We’re gonna protect you.”

Their words only made you cry harder, but in a freeing, cathartic way. Wanda rubbed the back of your head gently, leaning over to say “Let it out. We’ve got you, angel. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Their words seeped into your bones, giving you permission to crumble as you sobbed into Natasha’s chest. They both continue to soothe you, rubbing your back and stroking your hair. Neither of them chided or rushed you, giving you time to adjust. Wanda brought you some water. Natasha helped you sit up as she pressed the cool glass to your lips. 

As your sobs faded to sniffles and your eyes started to droop, Natasha whispered “It’s alright. You can fall asleep here. We’ll get you to bed.” You drifted off, finally relaxed and at peace.

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Cater

If there’s anything that Cater loves more than MagiCam, it’s being able to use social media for school projects. The professor assigns students to incorporate how astrology can relate to the daily lives of people? Cater will cut this like a slice of freshly made cake.

Cater wants to hold a sleepover with his fellow third years, but not everyone is keen on the idea. It’s a shame. But then, Cater gets a new idea.

“Prefecty!” he cheers when you pick up his call. “Listen, I’m a bit of a bind. I got this assignment for Astrology class, and I need a place to hang to get it done. You’re not busy this weekend, are you?”

As far as you know, you’re not. Also, what’s the harm in having Cater over, especially if it’s for classwork? You permit him to stay.

“OMG! You’re the best, bestie! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

Whatever that means.

The evening comes just as fast as Cater’s assignment arrangement. Speaking of Cater, he’s not a moment late when he arrives on Ramshackle’s doorsteps. You’re astonished at the amount of things he’s brought with him from his own room at Heartslabyul. Not only that, but his selfie stick is in recording mode for his phone, charger attached, too.

“Hey, boo! Let’s get this party started! Oh, don’t worry. This is not a livestream. That ruins the whole point of the project.”

“Which is what exactly?” you question.

“So Trein wants us to relate the night sky to our everyday activities. What better way to do that than to have a party involving the night? True, it’s a little early for stars, but what’s the point of waiting for the fun to happen, right, Prefect?”

“I guess so.”

“And unlike my dorm’s Unbirthday Parties, we got some of my faves to munch on.” Cater plops the cooler onto the Ramshackle kitchen counter.

“Oh, I already got some--”

“Don���t worry. We’ll add those, too. You wanna help me make some buffalo wings?”

Grim’s ears perk at “buffalo wings,” and you’ll live to regret not saying yes to Cater’s offer as far as the little cat beast is concerned. Granted, the wings have been bought frozen from the Foothill Town market, but at least your oven can hold them all enough for the party of three. As the wings cook, it’s sour and sweet smell fills the air space of the dorm. It makes Grim melt into the floorboards. Half an hour later, the wings are fully cooked, drizzled with sauce by you and Cater, and ready to eat. You two bring out the other snacks, and it becomes a banquet.

“See, besties? There’s nothing better than a sleepover pici-nic!” Cater says to the phone camera. Thankfully, for you, Cater’s not entirely wrapped up in the screen. He sticks the selfie stick in the cushions, facing it towards you and him. He smirks as he holds up a wing to your mouth. “Nom, nom, Prefecty. Have a bite.”

Your cheeks flush. “Do I have to?”

“If Prefect doesn’t wanna, I will!” cheers Grim. “I’m always up for food.”

Cater’s face drops. “Sorry, Grim, but I need a cute face for this one.”

“What? How dare you call me not cute!”

“Come on, Prefect. One shot is all I need. I’m not asking for any fan service.”

You heavily sigh and give in. Cater holds up the wing to your lips, smirking. You take the bite out of the buffalo wing, but the ripping of the meat off the bone isn’t graceful. This only makes Cater laugh.

Click! goes the camera.

“And that’s how you know when a wing is at peak deliciousness,” he says, winking at his phone. He takes another screenshot.

You feel lightheaded knowing that this footage is going to be used in his assignment somehow. Even Grim is snickering. You knock the little monster’s head into the pudding.

After filling their stomachs with tastiness, the sun is setting in the horizon. Cater indicates that it’s time to finally dress up for the occasion, so they can have more fun, comfort style. You come out of your room in your baggy Ramshackle supplied pajamas and walk down the stairs to find Cater not there. Doesn’t he want to do more sleepover stuff? What is he doing and where is he?

You call for Cater back upstairs. He doesn’t respond. The guest room door is open. You peek in to only find it empty. Yes, Cater’s belongings are scattered about, but he’s not there. You notice that the washroom door is open with steam coming out of it. Are you really going to check if he’s in there? What if he’s still dressing?

You approach the room and lean against the wall on the outside. You can hear him talking, and you know for sure it’s to no one except the camera. “Cater?” you call out.

He stops talking to himself. “Hey, Prefect! Do you need something?”

“I was wondering if you were dressed yet.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry about that. You can come in! I’m decent.”

You peek through the doorway, and there Cater is, standing in front of the mirror in the most multi-shade of brown pajamas you’ve ever seen. You admit to yourself that this is the last kind of nightwear you expected from influence-obsessed Cay Cay. “Don’t tell me you went live in my washroom.”

“Of course not,” he replies. “Sorry, Prefecty. I was taking some selfies in here for the assignment. Then, I turned the video back on when I started drying my hair. I forgot how much time passed.”

You suppose that’s a relief.

“Well, now that my hair is dry, let’s go look at the stars together.”

Oh, that’s right. He’s supposed to relate his lessons to this event he decided to throw. Cater takes you by the hand and pulls you to the guest room, where the curtains are apart enough to see the cloudless sky. “Yas! The stars are out!” He switches the camera from selfie view to the opposite as the lens catches the white dots in the sky. “Yeah, partying is fun and all, but there’s nothing better than chilling with your besties in the quiet. See, all of the bright lights up there are all friends, and they love shining in place, bringing peace to the world. That’s all they need to do. We should take inspiration from them and remember the quiet moments, too.”

“Do you believe that, Cater?”

“Aw, you’re trying to make me cry, aren’t you, bestie? Of course, I do.”

The quiet swirls around you both like fireflies on a summer evening. Cater whispers out his constellation knowledge, pointing to every little light in the night sky. The round of ASMR starts out with you nodding and saying the words “cool” and “amazing.” A minute goes by, and it has you going, “Mmhmm.” A few more minutes go by, and your eyes can barely stay open. Cater’s voice is so soothing that you end up falling onto his shoulder for support. You forget that this is slightly caught on camera, but will you even care anyway? What’s Cater gonna do? Embarrass you in front of his third year class?

He does find this “too adorbs” to ignore, and a few selfies are caught of this. However, he respects you enough to put you under the covers of the guest bed to have you rest. When Cater is ready to hit the hay, he takes the other half, above the sheets. He whispers to the video his project conclusion, puts all of his equipment to the side, and he joins you in dreamland. He’s sure that this is an A+ in the hole, not only for grades, but perhaps in human connection, too.

[metamatar]

saw my mother hold her own against some guests gossiping about someone's son coming out as gay and it being a huge disappointment to the family by being like ohh its normal. if you go out talk to people and hear them share their experiences you'll realise. which ykw it could be worse, i've never seen her get passive aggressive and imply people are shut ins before.

[nochepsicodelica]

Just thoughts of Toji being the most clingy, obsessed, bear boyfriend ever. You could be getting up from the couch to go get something to snack on from the kitchen and he'll hum and click his tongue like that's a no no, not even looking up at you when you stand, as he asks "where are you going?" in his deep voice. It makes you sit down again, but if he feels you're even an inch off from where you sat before, he'll fix that so quickly, bringing you right back to where you were, thigh to thigh with him.

Even when you're sleeping he likes to keep you attached to him. He either tangles his legs with yours or puts his leg over your hip when he's spooning you. If you're sleeping facing him, he keeps a hand on your back and digs his palm in so that you're pressed as close as you can comfortably be against him.

Oh, but mornings are a task and a half with him. It's hard enough to escape his arms because when you do manage to get out, he catches you by the hem of your shirt, not caring if it gets stretched out, and pulls you right back into his arms and doubles down on strapping you tightly in his hold by wrapping his forearm around your bare waist and keeping one of your legs locked between his. He grunts when you successfully escape, and roll out of bed. He's squinting, barely opening his sleep ridden eyes to look at you, yet he's dead set on luring you back into bed with him. He taps his hand on the space directly in front of him and mumbles a low "Come back" that brings you back, even if it made you roll your eyes. If you don't get back into bed, he follows you around all grumpy and groggy. Rests his chin in his palm all sleepy as he sits down and watches you make breakfast.

Speaking of food, he will not get out of the way when you're cooking. He's that attached to you. You're cutting vegetables and he has his arms wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head. If you cut yourself because you're trying to move too fast, he's dragging you over to the kitchen sink to rinse off the cut and wrapping your finger in a paper towel just for the time it takes him to run to the bathroom and get a bandaid. Will mumble into your ear, telling you to slow down when you start rushing your chopping again. Hums into your neck as you put all the prepped ingredients into a big pot. He ignores the stressed sighs you let out as you try to jump from space to space with him latched onto your back. King of "can I try it?" You tell him no and every five minutes he goes "can I try it now?" "How about now?" "Smells good. Now?"

Small NSFW section

During sex, he likes getting all the skin to skin he can get with you. Doggy style? He's leaning his body over your back and holding onto your tits as he rams into you. You're riding him? He has his hands on your hips, his forearms resting on your thighs. During missionary, he runs his hands all over your body, but since he wants to look at you as you lose your mind over how he fucks you, he refrains from leaning into you unless it's for the purpose of kissing or marking up your body. Loves prone bone because he gets to weigh you down and slowly make love to you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear in that honey-like voice.

Yeah... just Toji being a suffocating, clingy bear.

[celesteleoves]

hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?

“I WANNA BE YOURS.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!

a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI —

he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.

he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .

he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.

“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”

you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).

he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.

your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.

he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.

kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“you stalking y/n!”

“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…

bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.

SHOTO TODOROKI —

the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.

he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .

this boy will downright show his love for you.

we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.

that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?

cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.

you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.

meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.

your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).

he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .

once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.

starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.

“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.

“i can’t find my-”

“y/n. here.”

you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.

your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.

he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!

—

a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍🤍

[chleem]

Rest of my life

One shot: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: babysitting drew’s niece leads to the realization that you’re the one for him.  

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Warnings: so sweet u get cavities

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Which girl did you knock up?” 

Is the first thing you say upon entering Drew’s apartment, your eyes landing on Drew, who has a baby securely strapped against his stomach in a white carrier, the baby looking over at you with doe eyes. 

Drew freezes for a second, then shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he sets a large bag down on the kitchen table. "Oh, y’know, some girl I met on set."

There’s a reason why you and Drew are perfect for each other; the playful banter comes so naturally between you two that it feels like breathing, like there’s no awkwardness in this situation; finding Drew with a baby you’ve never seen before. 

Although, this baby looks oddly familiar. 

“Remember Lils?” Drew asks, as you walk over to him, setting your own bag on the table as well. 

Your eyes light up at the name, recalling the times Drew would show you pictures of his niece. “Oh hi,” you immediately pitch your voice higher, making it soft and playful. The baby, with her big, curious eyes, reaches out her tiny hand, and before you even know it, she’s grabbing onto your finger. 

Her little grip is surprisingly strong, and you can’t help but smile at how adorable she is. “She grew so big,” you comment, looking up at Drew. 

He’s got a soft smile on his lips. “I’know, and I got her for the whole day.”

Your raise an eyebrow playfully at him, “I thought we’re going to the beach today.”

“Yeah, we are,” he emphasizes on that word, his eyes bouncing back between him and Lil. 

Lil lets go of your hand, so you cross your arms at Drew. You roll your eyes, yet the grin on your face gives away your amusement. “Fine. I won’t rob you of your uncle-niece time.”

A chuckle escapes Drew’s lips, and he brings you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. “Lil says it’s okay for you to be there,” his voice, low and playful, as he plants a kiss on your jaw. “Third wheel, you okay with that?”

“Delightful,” you try to sound annoyed at that idea, but really, you looked forward to it. 

Originally, it was a beach date with Drew, but his sister must’ve had some emergency, leading to the sudden babysit. You had no idea that it was going to turn out like this, but you don’t mind. 

Besides, it gives you a chance to see what uncle Drew is like. 

“Aww, don’t be jealous,” he teases, rubbing your elbow, a habit he’s grown into since knowing you. 

“I could never compete with this girl,” you smile down at Lil, whose lips slowly forms an O. You coo at her, playing with her little adorable fingers.

Drew glances down at his watch, snapping you out of the little world you’ve absorbed yourself with Lil in only a few seconds. “Hotdog stand might close. Let’s go.”

“I’m trying the taco one!” You happily chirp, remembering how the last time you went there, a long argument between the two of you resulted in you getting the pizza flavored hot dog. 

“Alright, alright,” Drew assures, taking both of the bags off the table. 

You make an attempt to grab at least one bag from him, but he declines, carrying it all the way to the car himself. 

——

Unknowingly, the whole day at the beach has passed. 

Drew had been so focused on spending time with his niece, he didn’t even notice the way the sky changed. One moment, they were splashing in the shallow waves, building sandcastles, the next, the sun was dipping low.

He walks back to the beach with hotdogs in his hands; buying the snacks now since the crowd has disappeared. 

He replays scenes of today in his mind, thinking about how easy it’s been today. How effortless it felt, spending time with you and Lil. He’d watched you interact with his niece all afternoon—how you encouraged her to explore the sand, showing her the little crabs skittering along the shoreline etc. 

And now, as he makes his way back, he can’t shake the image of you laughing with Lil, your face lighting up when the baby made a funny sound or reached out for you.

He reaches the blanket that the two of you had spread out earlier on the sand, and he glances over your shoulder, expecting to see you playing with Lil. 

Instead, he freezes. 

There you are, holding his niece in your arms. Lil’s fast asleep, her little body relaxed against your chest. 

Drew’s first thought is how cute his niece is. 

His eyes then drift over to you; And that’s when it hits him.

The realization of this moment, the quiet way you’re holding his baby niece, strikes him. His heart skips a beat as he watches you, a quiet warmth flooding his chest. 

The sight of you with her, so natural, so right, feels more profound than anything he expected.

What is this feeling? He thinks.

He tries to shake it off. It’s not just about Lil. It’s about you, the way you make everything feel so simple, so easy. He never expected to see you like this, to see you so gentle, so present.

Is this what love feels like? He doesn’t know. But in that moment, staring at the two of you, something in him clicks. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it’s there—this pull, this feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything he thought he wanted was right here in front of him.

“Drew?” 

Your voice is gentle and soft as you call out for him, afraid to wake the baby up. 

Your gaze meets his, and for a second, the world feels smaller. His heart skips again, mind racing around as he scrambles for words in his mind. 

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out, sitting down beside you. He’s careful with his movements, even when handing you your hotdog to your free hand. His lips curl into a soft smile,  almost shy, “she’s out cold, huh?”

He watches as you completely ignore his words, biting down on the hotdog you’ve been waiting for for the whole day. His smile grows; his mind reminded of how easy it is to be around you. It’s not that you’ve said much or done anything extraordinary—just the way you seem to savor the simple things, like food, time spent together—it draws him in every time.

“Good?” Drew asks, teasing hinted in his voice, yet his eyes soften as he waits for your answer. 

“Strange. The pizza flavor’s better,” you comment through chews. 

Laughter erupts in his chest, making you look confusingly at him. You swallow, looking at him with doe eyes. “Let me take her,” he says, his hands reaching for his niece. 

You let him, mainly because of how hungry you are. The exchange is smooth; he now holds Lil in his arms, and you hold onto the two hotdogs, eating away one of them. 

“Y/n?”

You quickly finish the bite, humming at Drew continue talking. He’s looking at you with a soft gaze, almost smitten. He calls for your name, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You want a bite?” You ask, filling in the silence. 

Drew chuckles, and with his free hand, he pulls you by the back of your neck closer to him. He kisses you, slow and soft. You relax under his touch, letting the warm and bubbly feeling flow through you. 

You eventually pull away, needing to catch your breath. Drew’s lips are apart as he stares at you; the look in his eyes making it hard to steady your heartbeat. 

For seconds that felt like minutes, silence lingers between you two, eyes locked into each others’ as if any move, would disturb the calmness of this moment. 

Well, the moment is disturbed, because the smell of poop enters the air, as well as the sound of crying. 

Lil's awake, and in a stinky emergency.

You’re the first to pull away, chuckling as you glance down at Lil. “Shit.”

“Yup,” he purses his lips. You get ready to put the hotdogs down, wanting to help change her diapers, when Drew stops you. “I’ll do it.”

“Do I even have the appetite anymore?” You joke, the smile reappearing on Drew’s lips after hearing that. 

“When do you not?” He comments, setting Lil down and reaching for the diaper bag. 

You hit his arm playfully again, laughter coming out of you. You turn and look out onto the ocean waves, putting the hotdogs down to the side.

This moment right here? You want to remember it always. Remember this beach, this adorable little baby, this hotdog (just important as everything else), and this man, that you’ve found yourself to rely on more than you should. 

You hope Drew feels the same way too; that this moment right now, will forever be engraved in your heart. 

Little did you know; it's already engraved in his, as the moment he fell in love with you. 

The moment he realized, that you’re who he wants for the rest of his life. 

-------------------------------

word count: 1.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: my first time writing something of pure fluff...hope you enjoyed reading! i was in the mode for something sweet, craving a bf real bad T_T

and yes, im a creep that stalked his sister's ig to find the name of his niece. im sorry im sorry im sorry

other

[rafeandonlyrafe]

5 acts

words: 2k

warnings: soft!rafe, very fluffy, insecurity from rafe, reader is described as having curly hair, established relationship, brief nudity but very sfw (reader is topless while getting a massage but no descriptions)

5 acts of service to spark romance between you and your partner

make their morning easier: make them breakfast, or their coffee just as they like it

take care of their vehicle: get it washed, filled, and oil changed if needed. it'll feel like a weight off their shoulders

organize something meaningful for them: go through an old photo album or set up a space in the home that caters to them

pamper them after a long day: draw a bath, brush their hair, give them a massage 

set up their favorite movie night: get their favorite snacks, light some candles, and turn a simple movie night into a romantic evening

rafe frowns as he reads over the list again.

“baby!” your voice rings out, and he's quick to jump to his feet and rush down the stairs.

“oh!” you stop as he lands on the hardwood in front of you. “you came down so quickly.” you giggle. “i was just going to tell you dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“ill get the table set up.” rafe leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you to look at him in confusion as he walks away, a certain amount of pep in his step you're not used to seeing.

you get even more suspicious when you bring the dish into the dining room and see that rafe has a candle lit.

“is there a special occasion i forgot about?” you question as rafe pulls your chair out for you.

“nope, just treating my girl.” rafe swallows thickly, surprised and disappointed in himself that you're already noticing his change in behavior.

it all started last weekend when rafe overheard you talking to your girlfriends about love languages. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, truly, but he found himself quickly locked in when you said yours was acts of service and quality time, but that you couldn't think of any acts of service rafe has done recently.

you didn't sound that upset about it, and even immediately clarified that rafe makes up for it in other ways and you weren't even sure what he could do for you, but rafe was determined to change the tides of your relationship.

act 1

rafe shuts his alarm off quickly before looking over at you, making sure the beeping didn't wake you up as well.

he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes are still closed before carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room.

rafe makes it to the kitchen keeping his steps quiet as he looks around at the various cabinets. he's not sure where to start, so he begins with unloading the dishwasher and putting everything away, when he opens up a cabinet to see the waffle maker and an idea sparks.

rafe opens up the pantry, stepping in to find the mix as well as anything else he might need for the breakfast, and just like that, rafes plan sets into motion.

he makes a stack of waffles, but not before turning on the coffee machine so you can wake up to a fresh brew. he makes a good portion of eggs for you to split before checking the clock, figuring it's about time to check to see if you're awake.

rafe pours your coffee in your favorite tumbler before adding ice and syrup, smiling at himself for remembering just how you like it.

rafe is about to head out of the kitchen when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs.

“good morning ba-”

“oh my god, im so late for my nail appointment, why didn't you wake me up?” you squeal, grabbing your purse and adjusting the outfit you threw on quickly.

“i didn-”

“i got to leave, like right now, sorry babe.” you run up to rafe and press a quick kiss to his lips, about to rush away when you realize the two plates of breakfast.

“it's okay.” rafe shakes his head. “i'll make you breakfast a different day. forgot you had a nail appointment. but here-” rafe grabs the tumbler and thrusts it into your hand. “at least take the coffee i made you.”

rafe can see the conflicting emotions going on inside your head.

“hey.” he says softly. “it's okay. go. you and i both know how ridiculous those late fees are.”

“okay.” you nod, pouting and looking back at the plates as you leave.

act 2

“do you have any plans today?” rafe asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“nope. just hanging with you.” you smile up at him, snuggling closer to his side, not yet ready to leave the bed when rafe is keeping you so warm, occasionally pressing kisses to your face.

“im gonna go take your car to get it serviced.” rafe says. “since you don't have anything going on.”

“oh.” you hum. “okay.” you were secretly hoping you could just have a lazy day in bed with rafe, maybe even force him to watch some trashy reality tv, knowing it'll only take a couple minutes for him to get fully invested in whatever drama starts up between the couples.

“you stay in bed though.” rafe smiles at you, sliding out from under the covers, leaving you to pull the blanket tighter around yourself and inhale his fleeting scent.

rafe heads down the stairs, a pep in his step at getting this task done for you. he grabs your keys before heading out the door, taking it to the service center first for an oil change. it's not very dirty on the inside, but rafe decides he'll still vacuum the inside after taking it through the wash.

you really only use your car when rafe is gone or you have an appointment, so it doesn't get used often.

rafe finishes everything he wants to get done for you, filling up your tank before driving back home.

rafe is whistling and happy as he returns home and heads back up the stairs, and just like he expects, you're still in bed, but sat up, watching the television.

“hey baby.” your smile widens as you see him. “i missed you so much.”

“sorry, doll.” rafe changes quickly before climbing into the bed. “but i got everything done on your car.”

“thanks.” you hum. “really appreciate it.” you press your face into his chest, throwing one leg over his hips as you return to a lying position, no longer caring about what's on the tv now that you've got your boyfriend back.

“you don't have anything else you wanna get done today, do you?” you ask. “i thought we'd have all day together.”

rafe sighs as he looks at the clock, realizing just how long it took him to service your vehicle. “well, we have the rest of the day at least.”

act 3

“um, rafe?” you call out as you open up a drawer in your closet, expecting to see the tangled mess of necklaces and earrings just as you left it.

“honey?” rafe walks into your bedroom before realizing you’re in the closet.

“where’d all my jewelry go?” you ask confused.

“oh, i organized it for you.” rafe moves to the drawers, sliding open the two underneath to reveal jewelry displays and every piece neatly put away. “i also got you a display for your favorite necklaces but i wanted you to choose what ones go up there.”

“where at?” you ask, noticing the necklace rafe got you for your first anniversary in missing from the drawer.

rafe doesn’t respond with his words, taking your hand and guiding you out of the closet and into the main bedroom, where you notice the necklace stand shaped like a tree with two chains already hanging from them.

“oh my gosh, whats this?” you squeal, pulling the new necklace off the stand, admiring the diamonds that glitter back at you in the shape of an r.

“for you, baby.” rafe kisses your cheek.

“what has gotten into you?” you ask, but before rafe can worry too much about you figuring out he’s following a guide on how to treat you better, you turn and pull your hair off your neck for him to slot the necklace on.

act 4 

“oh right there!” you moan out as rafe rubs at your back, hands smoothing up and down against your skin, gently kneading into your muscles as he does.

“love pampering you baby.” rafe leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“you’re so sweet.” you smile and turn your head. “i’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“you already treat me better than i deserve.”

you frown and turn over onto your stomach, bringing the blanket with you to keep your chest covered. “not true. you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“thanks, doll.” rafe doesn’t want you to worry about his insecurities in this moment, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “stay there.”

you get comfortable on your back, eyes sliding shut as rafe starts some gentle music. it flows from the speakers as rafe hums along to the instrumental version of a popular song, grabbing your hairbrush from off the dresser.

you are only vaguely aware of rafes movements, when suddenly a hand is placed on the top of your head, massaging against your scalp that has you moaning out again.

you hear rafe chuckle at your reaction, the sides of your lips also quirking up, when you suddenly feel a hairbrush running through your strands.

you scrunch your face up and give it a moment, hoping rafe would stop when he suddenly brushes through a tangle, making you cry out.

“shit.” rafe drops the brush with a clatter onto the hardwood. “im sorry.”

you can hear the defeat in rafes voice and you turn over onto your stomach to face him, frowning. “baby? whats wrong?”

“i just can’t do anything right. i try to make you breakfast, you have to leave. i take your car to be serviced, and i miss out and spending time with you. i can’t even brush your hair all romantically like the guide said.”

“guide?” you question, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on as you pull rafe up to sit on the bed next to you.

“i… i read something online. about acts of service you can do for your partner. i just want to be a good boyfriend.”

you don’t mean to, but a laugh falls from your lips. “rafe, that’s ridiculous. you’re already the best boyfriend without even trying. did i say or do something to make you feel like you needed to try harder?”

“no-” rafe sighs, knowing he has to admit it. “i just heard you talking with your friend about love languages. i’m trying to make it up to you.”

“and the guide told you to brush my hair?” you scoff. “im guessing whoever wrote that did not have curls.”

“you're probably right.” rafe lets a smile come to his face.

“i love you for you, not because of the things you do for me. besides, you do enough without even trying or following some guide. you take out the trash, you stock up on my favorite treats, you get me anything i want whenever i feel the slightest bit ill.”

“so… you don’t want me to do the last thing on the guide?”

“depends what it is.” you shrug. “if it involves you leaving and doing something for me, then absolutely not. or at least you can take me with you.”

“i set up a romantic movie night in the living room.”

“that sounds much better for both of us than you brushing my hair.” you giggle.

act 5

you tuck yourself further into rafes side, smiling as your favorite scene finishes, turning your attention to rafe.

“thank you for doing all this for me.” you whisper, keeping your voice soft. “i love you so much.”

“i love you.” rafe says earnestly, ducking his head to press a kiss against the top of your head, but you’re quick to reposition so your lips can meet.

“now we have to figure out your love language so i can do things for you.” you tell rafe.

“my love language is you.” rafe says, squeezing you tightly. “my everything is you.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Damien Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: What if he become obsessed with Dick's girlfriend?

Notes: It's just a cute and funny headcanon and should not be taken seriously. Y/n obviously have no feeling for him and see him as a little brother. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You’ve been dating Dick for a while, and naturally, this means you’re in Wayne Manor a lot. It’s not that you mind, but being around the Batfamily is like trying to survive a sitcom where every character is armed.

And then there’s Damien.

Oh, sweet, little, stabby Damien.

At first, he’s a little terror. He’s always scowling at you, calling you things like “Richard’s latest concubine” or “another unnecessary attachment.”

It’s fine. You ignore him. He’s a kid. A weird kid with ninja skills and a superiority complex, but a kid nonetheless.

But then something shifts.

You don’t know when it started—maybe it was the first time you helped Damian with his homework (because, let's face it, the kid can’t count past ten without losing his temper), or maybe it was the first time you accidentally brushed his hair aside while he was brooding on the roof. Either way, the moment you paid him just a little bit of attention, you sealed your fate.

Now Damien was everywhere. Not in an obvious “he’s following you” way—no, he was stealthier than that. He would conveniently show up whenever you visited the Wayne Manor, leaning against a doorframe, pretending he hadn’t been waiting there for 45 minutes.

“Oh, it’s you again. Why are you always lurking like a feral cat, Damien?” you’d tease, and he’d scowl, muttering about how you wouldn’t understand his “intellectual pursuits.”

He starts showing up wherever you are, uninvited. Oh, you’re in the kitchen trying to make breakfast? Guess who just landed behind you, silently hovering like a tiny, murderous shadow? "I see you're using the wrong knife to cut that," he says, smugly eyeing the blade, “and you should be cutting it at a 45-degree angle. Let me handle it.”

You look over, blink a few times, and try to avoid an aneurysm. "Damian, what—"

"I’m simply trying to prevent you from making mistakes," he interrupts, already taking the knife from your hand with the confidence of someone who’s never been told ‘no’ in their entire life. Yes, he did just steal your kitchen knife.

He goes from glaring at you across the dinner table to…well, staring at you.

It’s subtle at first, but you notice. You’ll catch his eyes lingering a little too long when you’re laughing with Dick, or feel him trailing after you when you wander the manor.

You think it’s cute. Like a kid with a crush on their babysitter.

When he insists on showing you his katana skills? You humor him. “Wow, Damien, you’re so talented!” you gush. Dick thinks you’re being nice. Damien thinks you’re in love.

When he critiques your relationship with Dick? “Grayson isn’t good enough for you. He’s reckless, emotionally stunted, and too busy pretending to be a circus clown to prioritize your needs.”

You laugh it off. “I’ll keep that in mind, Damien.”

Mistake #1. He interprets this as you agreeing with him.

When he starts bringing you tea? Complimenting your outfit choices? Sitting way too close to you during movie night?

“Aww, he’s opening up to me!” you think.

Damien is so dramatic about it. Every time Dick kisses you, hugs you, or just breathes in your direction, Damien is in the background like a Shakespearean villain.

He walks into the room, sees you cuddling with Dick, and immediately storms out with a loud, "Tt. Disgusting."

Alfred offers him cookies to calm him down. Damien refuses because he’s too furious to snack.

Mistake #2. You’re feeding the monster.

Damien moves from “weirdly attached” to “what the hell is happening” alarmingly fast.

He wasn’t subtle. He decided to prove his superiority over Dick by painting your portrait. At midnight.

“Damien,” you said when you caught him, holding a brush like he was Da Vinci reincarnated, “why are you painting me?”

“Because no one else can capture your essence,” he replied, dead serious.

You left before he could explain that he was also building a shrine in his closet.

He doesn’t interrupt your date... at first, not directly. He doesn’t need to. Damian’s signature passive-aggressive commentary will follow you home, like a ghost. "I saw you let Dick drive. You know his driving skills are subpar at best, right? I wouldn’t trust him with a paper airplane." You’re not even sure how he knew you two were driving, but the comment lands, and it cuts like a knife.

You try to confront him. “Damian, stop following me around like a puppy! You’re a child. A literal child. Go play with toys or something.”

Damian’s face twists with a mix of indignation and disgust. “I do not play with toys, Y/N. I train. Unlike some people.”

And the best part? Damian doesn't even hide his feelings for you. One night, after you and Dick have spent a quiet evening watching movies, Damian barges in, wearing his usual scowl, and just points at you. "I’ve decided," he declares dramatically. "You’re mine now."

You almost choke on your popcorn. "Excuse me??"

"That’s right. You’ve been chosen." He’s so serious, like this is some ancient prophecy he’s about to fulfill.

He starts referring to you as his beloved in casual conversation.

“Father, inform Grayson he’s no longer allowed to monopolize my beloved’s time.”

“Your what?!” Dick is confused.

At first, you thought it was a joke. “That’s cute, Damien, but I’m pretty sure you learned that from a Victorian novel.”

But he wasn’t joking. He never joked. He’d say it with all the seriousness of someone discussing global diplomacy. “One day, you’ll understand why I call you that, Beloved.”

One day, you accidentally called him a kid in front of everyone. “Relax, kiddo.”

You’d barely finished the sentence before he stormed off, muttering about how ungrateful you were for his “protection.”

Later, Alfred informed you that Damien spent the evening sulking on the roof. “It’s not sulking, Pennyworth. It’s strategizing.”

The moment Damien saw how you look at Dick, something inside him snapped. Why does Grayson get everything? he thought bitterly, watching from the shadows like a gremlin.

From then on, he started… intervening.

He’d interrupt your dates by calling Dick with “emergencies.” (“Richard, Gotham is on fire. I require your assistance.”)

Or other ways.

Dick: “Sorry I’m late. My motorcycle suddenly lost all its tires.”

You: “Wow, weird coincidence. Damien’s been in the garage all day.”

Damien innocently: “You should’ve asked me for a ride, beloved.”

He’d conveniently sit between you on the couch during movie nights, arms crossed, glaring at the screen like he wanted to kill the romantic lead just for existing.

Once, when Dick brought you flowers, Damien helpfully reminded you that roses often carried pests. You gave him a side-eye but thanked him for the warning.

One time, you catch him trying to slip his number into your phone.

“Damien, what are you doing?”

“Ensuring you can contact someone competent in emergencies.”

“That’s what Dick is for?”

“Grayson couldn’t competently fold a bedsheet.”

It all comes to a head when you find Damien casually trying to poison Dick.

You walk into the kitchen and there he is, sprinkling something suspicious into a smoothie.

“Damien, what the hell?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “It’s non-lethal. He’ll just feel weak enough to stay in bed for a few days. That way, we can spend quality time together.”

“QUALITY TIME?!”

He tilts his head, genuinely confused. “Don’t you want that?”

One day, you accidentally brought up his height. “Wow, Damien, have you grown an inch?”

That was it. That was the moment he vowed to become taller than Dick at any cost. He spent weeks researching growth supplements, adjusting his diet, and hanging upside down from the training bars in the Batcave.

Mistake #3. You don’t run immediately.

He “accidentally” breaks the bracelet Dick gave you (oops, it was an inferior material anyway).

Your favorite coffee cup disappears, and suddenly Damien has one just like it. "Strange coincidence, isn’t it?"

Damien starts “correcting” everything Dick tells you, from battle tactics to what kind of wine pairs best with dinner.

He trains Titus to growl whenever Dick comes near you. "Good boy, Titus. Show him who’s unworthy."

He steals your phone to block Dick’s number. "We should eliminate distractions."

You once made the mistake of jokingly calling him "cute," and now he’s convinced you’re secretly in love with him.

Dick, bless his heart, is completely oblivious.

“I think it’s great how well you and Damien are getting along,” he says, grinning like a golden retriever. Meanwhile, Damien is plotting your future wedding.

"I’m humoring her for your sake," Damien lies through his teeth while handing you a handmade sword engraved with your initials.

Damien constantly tries to prove he’s a better option than Dick:

“Richard is reckless. I, however, would never put you in harm’s way.” (Meanwhile, Damien drags you into an actual rooftop stakeout just so he can show off.)

“He can’t even cook. Did you know I can make authentic Middle Eastern cuisine?”

“You deserve someone who values you.”

You find a locked box in your room one day. Inside is a collection of…disturbingly Damien things.

A pressed flower you don’t remember receiving.

A strand of your hair.

A list titled “Reasons Why I’m Better Than Richard” (it’s very thorough).

A draft of a love letter in calligraphy that starts with “Dearest light of my tortured soul…”

You finally sit him down for a talk.

“Damien, you’re like a little brother to me.”

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m not your brother. Nor will I ever be.”

“Damien, you’re sweet, but—”

“I’m not sweet.”

“Okay, you’re terrifying, but you’re also 13.”

He stared at you, eyes narrowing. “I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For you to realize that I’m the only one worthy of your affection.”

“Damien…”

“The age gap will be irrelevant in five years.”

“And when that day comes, I’ll be ready.”

When you reject him (because obviously), he tries to play it cool but fails miserably.

“Tt. I wasn’t serious anyway. Your taste is terrible.”

Proceeds to storm off, but not before stealing your scarf.

You find it later in his room draped over a practice dummy he definitely punched several times while muttering Dick’s name.

Bruce gets involved after Damien “accidentally” pushes Dick off a rooftop.

“You need therapy,” Bruce says bluntly.

“You’re just upset I succeeded where you failed,” Damien snaps back.

He does go to therapy but somehow convinces his therapist he’s completely normal. (Because of course he does.)

Alfred is the real MVP.

“Perhaps you’d like to consider not obsessing over your brother’s partner, Master Damien.”

“You don’t understand, Pennyworth. She needs to be protected.”

“From what, sir? A happy relationship?”

Everything become worse when Damien starts sparring with Dick for no reason other than to “test his worthiness.” You have to physically drag him away while Dick just stands there, confused and bleeding.

“He’s weak,” Damien hisses as you shove him into a chair.

“He’s your brother!”

“And yet, he’s undeserving.”

In the end, Damien doesn’t give up. He’s stubborn like that.

Part 2. Part 3.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[krosiefics]

his hoodie • bang chan

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: chan goes to surprise you at your apartment but catches you touching yourself, in his hoodie…moaning out his name.

WC: 1.4k

Tags: smut, afab!reader, bsf!chan, perv!chan kinda, softdom!chan, best friends to lovers, piv, unprotected sex (plz be careful), masturbation, oral sex (f receiving), pet names (baby, pretty), praise kink, fingering (f receiving), mutual pinning, lwk pwp (little plot)…probably forgetting some sorry

The door to your apartment creaked open, your best friend, Chan, peeking his head through the door, hoping you hadn’t noticed him enter. He pushed the door open, wide enough for his body to slip through. In his hands were two bags of random snacks and drinks he knew you liked.

A sudden noise from your bedroom made your presence known to him. The curly haired boy quietly places the plastic bags on your kitchen counter before making his way to your bedroom door giddily, excitement filling up his body. Chan’s always loved the way you smiled, he loved it even more when he was the reason behind your smile.

He noticed that the door was slightly open already so he reached for the doorknob, a soft smile on his lips, but just as his fingers grazed the knob he heard it…a soft moan of his name. The smile he so proudly wore fell, his brows furrowing with confusion. ‘The fuck was that?’ Chan thinks to himself. He gets closer to the door and hears the noise again. Adjusting his gaze to the slight crack, he scans the room for you. There he sees you propped up in your bed resting against the headrest, knees bent open, no underwear, your fingers trailing between your legs as your face scrunched in pleasure.

The sight alone made a rush of arousal go straight to Chan’s cock, his face heating up at the situation he just found himself in. Chan knows he should look away, but he can’t bring himself to, not when you whimper his name so sweetly. Fuck you’re whimpering his name. Chan subconsciously rubs his bulge with his hand, watching you through your door. He feels like a pervert, guilt flooding his body, but another one of your moans washes that guilt out.

“Mm, Chan.” You whine out, your face flushed and your lip caught between your teeth. He can’t take it anymore, Chan pushes the door open softly, leaning against the doorframe. “This isn’t something I expected to walk into.” He cocks his head to the side. Finally noticing your best friend’s presence, you yelp, face paling before grabbing a nearby pillow for coverage. Chan tsks before nearing you.

“Shit you’re in my hoodie too.” Chan practically groans, now he has a good view of you, he sees you in his black hoodie, one that he left here a few days ago. “Oh c’mon. Don’t be shy baby, what happened to the girl who was moaning my name a few seconds ago?” You turn you face away, avoiding eye contact with him.

Chan taps your knee, you glance over at him as he offers you a look, a look that’s asking if what he’s doing is okay. Only then do you realize that his other hand is slowly removing the pillow from your lap.

“This okay?” He asks verbally this time. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your ears. ‘Is this really happening?!’ You scream internally. You nod again allowing him to reveal yourself to him- again.

Once Chan moved the pillow, throwing it somewhere to the side, his eyes fixated on what had been covered. You glistening cunt that throbbed, yearning to be touched. Chan cursed under his breath as he saw you, exposed and splayed out. He brings his hands to the side of your head, leaning down to your ear before asking, “Can I be the one to make you moan my name, not your fingers.”

“Please.” An instinctive moan erupts from you as his hands trail along your thighs, squeezing them every now and then. “God, you’re so pretty.” Chan grunts as his fingers glide along the edge of your wet folds, making your toes curl in pleasure. He moves his fram lower so that his face is up close to your pussy, he watches as it clenches around nothing, waiting to be filled.

You stare down at him with doe eyes, your face flushed a pink shade, your brows furrowed ever so slightly. Chan shifted his gaze to you, he could feel his heart hammering against his chest, he never wanted this moment to end. He leans in and places a kiss on your clit, suckling and licking at it as you squirm underneath him. Your hands entangle themselves in his curls, hips threatening to grind into his mouth. Chan stabilizes your movement by holding down your hips.

His tongue did wonders, you never wanted him to stop. “Chan, ugh fuck!” You whimpered as his free hand circled your entrance. His fingers worked their way in and out of you, stretching you out, hitting all the right spots. Chan suddenly pulls away from your cunt, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re so pretty love, fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long you have no idea.” Chan buries his face into your neck out of embarrassment of his confession. “Channie,” Your hands cup his face, pulling him away from your neck, “I love you so much…love you so much more than a friend.” You say before being cut off with a kiss. You moan into Chan’s mouth as his fingers rut into you at a faster pace, Chan licks at your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter.

“I love you too baby,” Chan grunts, moving away from the kiss, “lemme show you how much, yeah?”

He says, his hands rubbing at his sweatpants, you could see the outline of his hard bulge. “Fuck yeah.” You breath out shakily. Chan pulls the waistband of his sweats and boxers down, leaving him equally exposed. His hands wrap around his torso, hooking at the hem of his black t-shirt, sliding it over his head and onto the floor somewhere.

You practically drool at the sight of his abs, muscles flexing under your touch as you caress his abdomen with your hands. “Fuck.” You sigh, running your hands up and down his chest. Chan lolls his head back as you feel him up. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your legs hook around his waist, prompting him to grind his cock onto your bare cunt.

His cock sliding easily against your slick, his head poking at your clit makes you throw your head back in pleasure. You make a move to pull his your hoodie off, but Chan’s hands block your own, “Leave the hoodie. Wanna fuck you in my hoodie.” He says as he bites his lower lip.

“Channie, please hurry and fuck me then.” You whine, growing impatient. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Chan chuckles, lining himself up with your entrance before pushing himself into your pussy, which envelopes him so well.

Chan rolls his hips slowly into you so that you can adjust to his size, he’s not too big but definitely above average. You give him a small nod, a quiet squeak escaping your lips as a go-ahead for him. Chan starts rutting his hips at a slow speed, speeding up when you whine for more stimulation.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, so fucking sexy.” Chan grunts at each snap of his hips, thrusts hitting you directly at your g-spot. You moan erotically at his praises, clenching around his throbbing cock.

“S’good Channie,” You manage to say between moans, “Imma cum, holy shit, fuck-“ The sounds of your moans, squelching noises, and slapping of skin echoing off your bedroom wall. You were so glad your apartment has somewhat thicker walls than usual. Your hands dig into the skin of his back, but Chan didn’t mind, if anything it turned him on more, the thought of waking up to marks from the night before excited him. “God I love you.” Chan groans into your ear, thrust becoming sloppy as he nears his high.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming.” You cry out, warm cum spilling out of your cunt onto Chan’s cock. The feeling of your warmth, your cum, and your orgasmic clenching, overwhelmed Chan. As he began to pull out, you were quick with pulling him closer with your legs, “I want it inside.” You groan, the overstimulation starting to be uncomfortable. With your words Chan spilled inside of you with a low moan, his head falling into the crevice of your neck, leaving small kisses there.

A few minutes later after Chan pulled out of you, the two of you cleaned yourselves and the bed up, turned on the tv and cuddled. Chan held you as you laid on his chest, you could hear his heart beating against his ribcage. “I love you,” Chan suddenly breaks the silence over the tv, you turn your head facing him, “I love you too.” a soft smile rests on his lips, “I guess I’ve gotta give you more of my hoodies.”

[vunblr]

The Memory Remains

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Word Count: About 13k.

note: Let’s pretend the incident with Renata never happened. Bucky's presence at Pierce’s house is a bit more lenient for the sake of this story.

The Winter Soldier moved through his assignments like a shadow. So, when he was stationed at Pierce's home for a week, he was given explicit instructions: remain masked, both arms concealed under a layer of clothing and stay out of sight as much as possible, but if seen, remain silent, a faceless piece of security.

On his first day, he heard voices down the hall before he saw them, a child’s laughter, paired with a softer, patient tone. The child -a boy around five or six- bounded into view, dragging a toy truck and blissfully oblivious to the stranger cloaked in shadows. But the woman with him was different; she immediately caught sight of him. She looked surprised but quickly cast her eyes down as she guided the boy past.

Pierce’s strict warning echoed in her mind. He explained that his guest was part of a high-security detail, trained to avoid all unnecessary contact, just another eccentric demand of his government work.

New to America, Y/n had recently left her home country after a severe burnout as a lawyer and the lingering shadow of an abusive relationship. She managed to pay a year’s rent in advance with her savings, but reality quickly slapped her in the face when she began looking for a job. Now in her late twenties, she had no experience outside a desk or courtroom with foreign laws.

This job as a nanny was the first real opportunity she’d found, and she took it. The pay was excellent, and the boy’s parents were kind. With an arrangement between Pierce and his son, she spent part of each day with the child at Pierce’s apartment after kindergarten until his parents picked him up after work, which was conveniently close by. In the two months she’d worked for the Pierces, she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary in the house, so the appearance of a security guard was an unexpected twist.

She understood the "no interaction" rule well enough; her brother had worked in federal law enforcement before he passed, so she knew about the necessity of concealing the asset's identity and the formality of the job. Yet, habit got the best of her. She’d nod or offer a polite “good afternoon” when she arrived and a quiet “see you” when she left. Sometimes she’d even throw out a casual comment about the weather or crack a joke, knowing she wouldn’t get a response. His silence was a norm, his blue gaze drilled into an inexistent point in the horizon. By the third day, she found herself relaxing into the new routine, no longer unnerved by the silent figure lurking in the house. She resumed her usual activities while the child napped: baking small snacks for when he woke up, or sitting at the kitchen table with her crochet project in hand. She even started putting on a playlist mostly with songs from her home country, the soft, lively tunes filling the quiet rooms.

Sometimes, when she baked treats for the boy, she’d make a few extras, placing them on a surface near the man in the shadows. Her brother had told her enough stories about hours on guard, the hunger and thirst that crept in with the silence. This was her small way of saying I know the circumstances -Though she didn’t. Oh, she didn’t even scratch the surface of his circumstances.- “You can take it later when you are alone.” She had offered quietly.

The first time, the food sat untouched for hours, and she thought he’d rejected the gesture entirely. But eventually, the plate was empty, and she could swear the right pocket of his tactical pants looked slightly stuffed. Taking it as a sign, she continued doing it, sometimes offering a simple piece of fruit, or a chocolate if she hadn’t bake. Each time, the plate ended up empty, and his pocket looked just a little bulkier.

Unbeknownst to her, one song in her playlist seemed to provoke a reaction in the stoic custody. Its melody -a blend of mid-1900s music with a modern twist- stirred something faint and unreachable within him, persistent enough to catch his attention. Each time the tune played on shuffle, his gaze would flicker in her direction, his brows knitting slightly as if he were straining to recall a memory just out of reach. And yet, she remained blissfully unaware, humming along.

After a week, he was gone. The masked figure had simply vanished from Pierce’s house as if he’d never been there at all.

-----

Nearly nine years had passed since that afternoon when Bucky threw himself from the helicarrier into the water to rescue Steve, somehow re-emerging as a fugitive from Hydra’s grasp. Since then, there had been one chaotic chapter after another, ending in a shaky kind of freedom and a conditional pardon. He’d been granted the basics of a civilian life -even if he wasn’t sure what to do with it-, a place to live, and the requirement to attend therapy sessions. 

One night, after a familiar nightmare left him panting, staring hollow-eyed into the bathroom mirror, his gaze settled on his hair. It hung long and unkempt, framing his face with shadows from another life, a reminder of missions in the dead of night, of orders he’d had no choice but to follow. His reflection stared back, haunted, tethered to the past.

Cut it, a voice urged inside him, low and insistent. Shedding the hair felt like severing the ties still binding him to memories and missions he wanted gone. His hand moved instinctively, reaching for the familiar weight of his knife, the same one he’d carried for years, an extension of who he’d once been. But he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the blade. If he was serious about moving forward, this had to be more than just an impulsive cut in the dead of night. It had to be his choice, deliberate and clear, reclaiming himself one small step at a time. He’d find a hairdresser, endure the closeness, the touching, the vulnerability of someone holding sharp scissors near him, and let it be a test. A small, tangible proof that he could start anew, piece by piece.

The next morning, he stood outside a shop, the nearest to his apartment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, wrestling with the urge to turn and walk away.

He lingered on the sidewalk, eyeing the parlor's weathered sign and chipped paint. Its old, familiar look was oddly reassuring as if the place had been untouched by time. That decided it for him. He scratched his beard and stepped forward, and as the door chimed overhead, he knew there was no going back now. Behind the chair, an old man was trimming the hair of a customer nearly as old, both with the unmistakable air of a veteran. The barber gave him a polite nod, but Bucky didn’t miss the shared look between the two: a quick, appraising glance that seemed to mutter, hippie motherfucker.

“Y/n!” the old barber called, his voice rising as he looked toward the back room. “You have a customer.”

The moment Bucky heard a woman’s name, he froze. An image of an elderly lady popped into his mind: chatty, distracted, and maybe with a knack for giving creative haircuts. He could already hear Sam’s laughter echoing in his head if he came out of this with some uneven cut or something worse.

“Well, actually…” he began, trying to backpedal, but his retreat stalled when she appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t old, far from it. And attractive. Very attractive. His mind blanked as he stood there, frozen, just staring.

The old man caught his hesitation and cast a pointed look his way, a touch more disapproving than before. The customer in the chair joined in, nodding in silent agreement.

“Well, young man?” the barber asked, his voice gruffer now. “You gonna stand there or sit?”

Bucky cleared his throat, murmuring, “I… thought you were the barber.” His voice was low, almost defensive, as he looked between the old man and the woman.

Her eyebrow quirked high, clearly amused, while the old barber scoffed. “What? because she’s a woman?” he huffed, crossing his arms. “Kid, I’m pretty sure she can handle that hippie mane of yours better than I ever could.”

The man in the chair gave a quiet chuckle, nodding in agreement, and Bucky’s mouth went dry. This was not the quick, anonymous cut he’d imagined. But there was no turning back now; he could feel three sets of eyes on him, each waiting for his move.

So, with a quick breath, he took off his jacket, walked over, and sank into the chair, stealing a glance at her reflection in the mirror.

She got closer from behind, amused by the fact that he already sat on the chair. “So, what are we doing today?” her tone was professional, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of curiosity.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the seat. “Just… cut it short. Something easy to manage.” He answered gruffly.

She nodded, assessing the length of his hair. “Alright, but I must wash it first since it's this long. Sprinkling it with water won’t be enough.”

He blinked, a hint of tension flashing across his face. The thought of sitting there, head tilted back, felt almost unbearably vulnerable, especially with her so close, and her hands threading through his hair. He nearly reconsidered, but the not-so-subtly narrowed gazes of the two older men lingering on him kept him in place.

With a quiet sigh, he managed to make a nod. “Fine.” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She gestured for him to follow, and he found himself standing and trailing behind her to the hair-washing station in the back. Every instinct screamed to keep his guard up, but his need to change this physical marker of his past kept him moving.

As they reached the back, Bucky’s eyes landed on her phone, resting near a small speaker that hummed with soft, melodic tunes. At first, he barely noticed the music since he was too focused on the discomfort of the situation and strengthening his resolve to not get up and leave. His shoulders stayed tense as he sat, hovering on the edge of the chair, every part of him coiled with instinctive caution.

Then, the warmth of the water broke over his scalp, and against his will, he felt the tension start to dissolve, just a little. Her touch was gentle, no sudden movements, just a calm, practiced rhythm as she applied the shampoo, working it through his hair. She didn’t say a word, either; it was as though she understood something of the guarded edge to him, or maybe she sensed that he wouldn’t welcome small talk.

A few beats into the quiet, the song changed. It was still low and unassuming, just background noise. But then the melody drifted in, a tune with an old rhythm and a foreign lyric, hauntingly familiar, and his attention flickered, drawn in by the music without him fully understanding why. His eyes closed briefly, and fragments of memory teased at the edges of his mind: a dim hallway, shadows, the scent of baking, and the quiet hum of a woman’s voice.

Before he could grasp it, the memory slipped away, leaving only the echo of familiarity, a ghost of something he almost remembered.

As she massaged his scalp, the tension that had gripped Bucky’s shoulders melted away. The steady, gentle pressure lulled him into a rare calm, his body betraying him with a warmth that crept over him like a slow wave. For the first time in a long time, he felt close to letting his guard down entirely, the comfort of her touch drawing him into an almost sleepy haze.

Then she reached for the conditioner, her hands moving with the same unhurried ease, but this time, she couldn’t quite keep from humming along to the song that played softly from the speaker nearby. Her voice was low, almost shy, as though she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. But as she sang, each note seemed to tighten a thread in his chest, snapping him out of the drowsy trance.

Then it hit him like a punch to the gut.

The music, her voice, the way her fingers worked through his hair, it all brought him back to Pierce’s household, to those days he spent stationed in the shadows, monitoring everything in silence before the events of his escape. The faint aroma of something sweet drifting through the house, of cookies, or bread, something good, something he hadn’t expected to find. He could still feel the strange weight of those illicit traits in his pocket, things she’d left out in silent offering, her small, unspoken kindness filling a gap he hadn’t known was there.

This woman... could it be?

His breathing grew shallow, each breath catching in his chest as a faint tremor ran through him. His gloved hands twitched against the armrests, fingers curling and uncurling as he fought the urge to reach up, to pull himself upright and turn, to really look at her. He needed to see her face, to study her features and search for that glimpse of familiarity, to confirm that this wasn’t just some blurred, mismatched memory dredged up by the lull of her voice and the warmth of her hands. Worse yet, he needed to know this wasn’t some fragment of imagination, a scene conjured by his mind to taunt him with memories he couldn’t piece together. But before he could move, she stopped singing, her hands paused in his hair and he felt her hesitate, as if sensing his restlessness even though he hadn’t said a word.

“The wash is almost done,” she murmured, her voice quiet but steady, as if offering reassurance.

She inwardly groaned, mortified. Why on earth did she start singing? Way to scare off a customer, she scolded herself when she sensed his body tense beneath her hands. And of course, it happened with a handsome customer. She could feel the rush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, flooding her cheeks. Taking a steady breath, she forced herself to refocus, working to rinse the last of the conditioner as quickly as she could, her hands moving just a bit more briskly than before. Okay, finish up and keep it professional, she coached herself, feeling the sting of humiliation all over again.

As she finished rinsing the conditioner from his hair, she reached for a nearby towel. Without a second thought, still reliving the horror of exposing herself like that, she wrapped it around his head, gently pressing to soak up the excess water. Bucky barely registered the texture, just the warmth that enveloped him, and the unspoken relief of having her hands finally out of his hair.

“Alright,” she said softly, stepping back. “We’re done here. Just head back to the front, and I’ll set you up for the cut.”

He rose from the chair a bit unsteadily, as though waking from a daze, and started toward the front of the shop, acutely aware of every step. He glanced sideways at her once, catching a hint of embarrassment lingering on her face, her gaze darting away when she noticed him looking. Something about her bashful expression twisted a new thread of familiarity through his mind, but he shook it off, trying to steady himself.

As he reached the main area, he caught his reflection in the mirror opposite the chair and froze. Wrapped around his head, neatly turbaned and unmistakably bright, was a fluffy pink towel.

The old barber glanced up from the new customer he was tending to, his gaze settling on Bucky’s reflection with poorly concealed bemusement. "Good lord, Cecil, look how things have changed," he muttered dryly only for the other old man to hear, unaware of Bucky’s enhanced hearing.

The other old man, Cecil, leaned back, shaking his head with a smirk. “Used to be, folks would at least keep that kind of thing under wraps,” he muttered, his voice low but pointed. “Remember Karen’s brother? Now there was a guy who kept things to himself, blended right in,” he muttered with a knowing glance at Bucky.

Bucky gritted his teeth, faintly aware of heat climbing up his neck, but he forced himself to keep a straight face. He was determined to get through this without snapping. His reflection caught his attention again, and he let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Behind him, Y/n approached, unaware of the old men ranting. She held a bunch of hairpins in one hand and a comb in the other, gesturing toward the chair in front of the mirror. “Whenever you’re ready”.

As Bucky settled into the chair, his gaze drifted to the handful of hairpins she was holding, and cleared his throat, struggling to keep his tone steady. “Uh, I thought I asked for it short,” he murmured, nodding toward the pins and comb with a faint frown.

She didn’t miss a beat, propping a hand on her hip with a half-smile. “And I thought you might like it to look decent,” she quipped, raising a brow in the mirror. “To get it even, I’ve got to section it out first, or you’ll end up with a patchy disaster.”

She worked with quiet focus, her fingers weaving through his hair, clipping sections with colorful pins until his head was dotted with bright little half-buns. Bucky’s jaw clenched as his gaze drifted somewhere distant, the rhythmic tug of the comb stirring faint, elusive memories. He barely registered the chime of the door until the soft shuffle of footsteps and murmured greetings filled the air.

Two more elderly men ambled in, one clutching a checkers game under his arm. They greeted Frank the old barber, then his client casually, and lastly waved affectionately toward Y/n, who acknowledged them with a smile. As their eyes landed on Bucky, they paused, taking in his partially pinned-up hair, the bright clips dotting his head. They shared a wordless look of faint, unspoken disapproval, the kind only those with a few extra decades under their belts could master.

Bucky tightened his jaw again, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek, as he caught the old men’s exchanged looks. What, was this some kind of veteran association headquarters or something? He’d endured enough stares over the years, but the situation's absurdity hit a new level. If only they knew he was older than all of them. The irony almost made him laugh -or maybe just get up and walk out.- But he forced himself to stay put, keeping his gaze fixed on his reflection as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary, while she worked steadily, oblivious to the silent standoff between him and the retirement brigade.

As she started to cut with the scissors, couldn't resist trying to break the tension that clung to him like a second skin. “So, how long did it take you to grow this out?” she ventured, her tone light, eyes focused on his hair.

Bucky made a vague grunt, somewhere between polite acknowledgment and indifference. “Couple years,” he muttered, the words barely escaping his mouth as his gaze flicked to her face again.

Trying not to stare, he let his eyes drift down, but they always found their way back to her. As she moved around him, carefully and practiced, the cadence of her movements, and the subtle kindness in her tone, all painted a picture in his mind. The woman from Pierce’s household, he was certain of it now.

She tilted her head thoughtfully as she continued cutting, her eyes briefly meeting his in the mirror. “Going short can feel like a fresh start,” she remarked, her voice casual yet reassuring. “Sometimes, it’s about more than just hair, it’s like letting go of whatever it held onto. It happens a lot.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked up, catching her gaze in the mirror before he could stop himself. There was a beat of silence as her words seemed to settle over him, hitting a little closer than he’d expected.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low, almost as if speaking to himself. “That’s… kind of the point.”

She met his gaze again, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes, but she didn’t press him. She just nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting into a gentle smile. “Well,” she said softly, her hands resuming their steady rhythm with the scissors, “then let’s make sure we do it right.”

Eventually, she paused the trimming, assessing the hair’s new length with a critical eye. “Alright,” she said, lifting the electric clipper with a raised brow. “Any specific style you want, or…?”

Bucky met her gaze in the mirror, hesitating just for a moment. If he knew anything about styles, he might’ve had an opinion, but all he cared about was the fresh start he’d come here for. “Just… short,” he replied, his tone firm but with a hint of uncertainty.

She nodded, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Got it,” she said, setting to work. The clippers buzzed to life, and as she deftly worked them through the remaining length, Bucky let himself drift, trusting her to handle the rest. By the time she stepped back to survey her work, he barely recognized his own reflection; shorter, cleaner, a stark shift from the man he’d tried so hard to leave behind.

As she brushed his shoulders for stray hairs, the old men ambled back to the front, their voices rising in a familiar, lively argument about the weapons used in the Vietnam War.

“I’m telling you, the M16 was practically useless in those conditions,” one of them grumbled, shaking his head as if reliving the frustration.

“Oh, don’t start with that again,” the other scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “The M14 was a good rifle but couldn’t match the firepower.”

Bucky couldn’t help himself. “There were issues with both models,” he interjected, his voice steady and sure. The men turned, eyebrows raised as he continued, “M16’s jamming problems, and the M14’s recoil, that didn’t make it any easier in the jungle.”

One of them raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “So, you a collector or something, son? Not many people remember those details.”

Bucky paused, weighing his words. He shot them a sideways glance, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

“Nah,” he replied, his voice low. “Just... good memory.”

It was all he said, but the weight behind it was enough to hold their gaze for a moment longer than either man expected.

She watched them leave, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she turned back to Bucky, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, would you look at that,” she said, amused yet curious. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you join in the shop banters so soon. Well, there you go,” she said, stepping back. “Sharp as ever.” She reached over to grab his jacket from the hook, handing it to him with a small, encouraging smile that held a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages.

Bucky gave her a faint nod and took his jacket, slipping it on. “Thanks,” he muttered, feeling her eyes on him as he reached for the door.

As Bucky left the parlor after his haircut, the chill in the evening air prickled against his skin, grounding him in the present but doing little to quiet the memories that kept surfacing. Each step felt like shaking off a shadow of something long gone, something buried. He told himself, firmly, that she was just another person from his past, a woman who once showed him kindness in a place that had none. It shouldn’t mean anything.

But over the next few days, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d left something unresolved. Her presence haunted him in a way, not in the sharp, painful fragments of his past but in small, lingering echoes. He remembered the sound of her quiet humming when she thought no one was listening, the soft click of plates, and the surprising warmth of the treats she’d left for him, knowing he might never touch them. She had looked at him, masked and silent, like he was a person, not just a thing covered in shadows.

A few days later, in session, his therapist caught on to his distracted state. She didn’t exactly push, but she revisited the topic they’d been circling for weeks: reconnecting with people, finding his place outside the shadows of his past. Her advice was calm, grounded, and compassionate, but it nagged at him as much as it reassured him. Connection. Yeah, right.

Then, one afternoon, his phone buzzed. It was Sam. He was doing outreach work in the neighborhood, trying to connect local veterans with PTSD resources. “Look, I could use a hand with some pamphlets,” Sam said, in a way that didn’t leave much room for negotiation. “Some old-timers hang around that parlor you mentioned. I think they’d be more open to it if you dropped these off.”

Despite his reluctance, Bucky ended up agreeing. Maybe he needed to see her again to put the memories finally to rest.

When Bucky stepped back into the parlor, pamphlets clutched in his hand, the faint scent of aftershave and coffee grounded hit him. Frank was busy with a client, and Y/n was at the counter, writing something down in a small notebook. She looked up when the door chimed, her gaze settling on him with a flicker of recognition, the kind that carries just a hint of surprise.

Bucky cleared his throat and handed some pamphlets to Frank, who glanced at them with a barely concealed frown. “What is this, some new-age help group thing?” Frank muttered though he took them anyway.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam walked in behind him, a wide grin plastered on his face. He slapped Bucky on the shoulder with an ease that Bucky envied. “Hey, pal, didn’t know you’d actually do it,” Sam said, casting a friendly nod to the old-timers who regarded him with wary interest.

The veterans, having heard the conversation, perk up. “What’s this?” one of them asked, and Sam jumped in, explaining with his usual charm about the outreach work for veterans, PTSD resources, and community support. Bucky stood back, feeling the walls around him starting to rise, the familiar urge to retreat coming over him. But then he caught her watching him. He returned her gaze, and suddenly it was as if no time had passed. She was the same woman who used to hum softly in a house that held no warmth.

Before he knew it, Frank was muttering about “newfangled therapy and pamphlets” while the veterans grumbled, though one of them eventually accepted a flyer with a shrug. The moment felt absurd, but then, with a quiet laugh, she came to Bucky’s side. “Welcome back,” she says, with a soft voice and a suspicious pink tone on her cheeks.

Bucky cleared his throat, barely meeting her gaze. "Hi. Just, uh, helping Sam here with these pamphlets." He gestured awkwardly at the handful still clutched in his grip as if that alone explained his return. But before he could slide into silence, she tilted her head, her brow creasing in curiosity.

"So… were you in the service, too?"

The question caught him off guard. His body stiffened, and for a moment, he considered deflecting. But then he took a short breath, steadying himself before speaking.

"Yeah. Sergeant… a long time ago.” The words came out almost hollow like he was not even talking about himself. “Feels like it, anyway.”

Her eyes roamed his face as if she was noticing the wear and ache behind his expression for the first time, but she didn’t press him for more.

Behind them, Frank’s sharp gaze flicked over Bucky, his usual squint softening just a touch. He straightened, nodding with something closer to respect, his gruffness replaced by a rare moment of understanding. Bucky felt it, too, the unspoken acknowledgment from one who’s seen their kind wear the years like scars. “Well,” Frank said, his voice a little less brusque, “good on you for helpin’ out.” He didn’t look directly at Bucky as he said it, but the words were meant for him all the same.

He nodded, unsure of what to say. The discomfort sat heavy, but there was a strange ease to it too, this small, unanticipated connection in a place that felt both foreign and familiar.

Her smile grew softer as she met his gaze again “Guess we’ll be seeing you around, then, visiting the boys?”

Bucky shifted, glancing down with a faint nod. “Yeah. Maybe,” he muttered. Then he glanced back at Sam, who was deep in conversation with the veterans, seemingly in no rush to leave. He noticed the way Sam’s gaze occasionally flickered their way and caught the subtle grin playing at the corner of his mouth. To anyone else, it’d seem so, so casual, but he knew better, Sam was doing it on purpose.

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam kept his focus on the other vets, though his eyes flickered with barely concealed amusement when he glanced back.

The silence stretched a little too long, and she cleared her throat, slipping behind the counter with practiced ease. “You know,” she said lightly, “if you’re waiting on your friend, might as well have a coffee. It’s on the house.”

Bucky’s eyes fell to the floor, and he hesitated just a second before nodding. “Sure. Thanks.”

As she moved to make the coffee, he leaned on the counter, his gloved hands resting awkwardly on its surface as she prepared a mug for him. Then, without warning, she reached under the counter and pulled out a green tupperware, popping the lid to reveal neatly cut slices of pasta frola. The sight caught him off guard, his brows furrowing as a faint but vivid memory flickered to life, the faint smell of jam in the kitchen, the delicate pastry offered to him wrapped in a paper napkin, so his pocket wouldn’t get stained.

She noticed his look and chuckled lightly, misreading his reaction. “Don’t worry, it’s just a family recipe. I swear it’s not poisoned.” She gave him a half-smile, nudging the container closer. “It’s filled with quince jam, it’s tangy but sweet. Hard to come by here in the States, I know. But... it’s worth a try.”

Bucky blinked, the memory lingering in his mind as he glanced from her to the slice of tart. Her familiar, easy demeanor was almost too much to brush off. “I’ve had it before,” he said quietly, more to himself than her, before reaching over and picking up a slice. The taste was startlingly similar, he didn’t realize how vividly he remembered it. “Pretty good,” he murmured, almost begrudgingly. But before he could stop himself, a flicker of raw emotion tightened in his chest, and he felt the familiar sting of tears prickling at his eyes.

He turned away quickly, bracing himself against the counter, willing for the feeling to pass. He couldn’t explain it if he tried, not to her, not even to himself. A stray laugh reached him from across the room, and he forced himself to breathe, grounding his focus back on the sound of Sam’s voice, on the distant grunting of the men, anything to steady him.

Her voice broke through the moment, her tone warm and light as she cleaned up the counter beside him. “Well, if you like it, there’s plenty more where that came from,” she said with a playful smile. “The ‘boys’ practically fight over the last slice every time. You should see them, it’s like watching kids in a schoolyard,” she laughed softly, wiping down the counter. “I swear, I’ve had to start hiding an extra plate in the back just to keep up the peace.”

She glanced over at him, still unaware of his reaction, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “So, no pressure, but if you plan on sticking around here, you’ll have to stake your claim early.” Her voice was so light and easy, almost teasing as if sharing a small, harmless secret. It was as if she’d drawn him into some familiar, warm rhythm without even realizing it.

Bucky managed to make a nod, keeping his face averted until he was sure he was composed. Only then did he turn back, giving her a quick, curt nod. “Thanks. It… brings back memories,” he said, his voice steadier now, though the weight of those memories lingered in the quiet pause that followed.

“Oh?” She tilted her head, her eyes bright with curiosity. “I hope good memories?” Her smile was warm, perhaps imagining a grandmother’s kitchen or a friendly neighbor’s table, after all, it was rare for an American to have tried this kind of tart.

Bucky’s mouth curved into a faint, thin smile as he met her gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away again. “Something like that,” he replied, with a carefully neutral tone, edged with something unreadable. He lifted the coffee mug, taking a slow sip, hoping the gesture would gently close the conversation.

Before she could respond, the door chime sounded, and a man in his late thirties strolled into the shop with an air of easy familiarity. His gaze landed on her, his expression shifting into something smug and self-assured as he greeted her by name. His eyes lingered a little too long, sliding over her outfit in a way that barely bothered to conceal his interest.

Her posture stiffened, but she managed to smile, nodding his way. “Hey, Brian. Frank will be back in a few if you’d rather wait.”

Brian chuckled dismissively as he made his way to the chair. “Nah, it’s just a maintenance cut. I don’t need Frank for that.” He settled in, leaning back with a casual grin. “Besides, I’d much rather have you take care of me. Your hands are way more skilled.”

“Right…” She gave him a thin smile. Glancing at Bucky, she excuses herself from his side and heads over to tend to Brian.

As she set up her tools, Brian leaned back in the chair, angling himself to keep her in his line of sight. “Looking good today,” he said, his tone dropping slightly as he studied her reflection in the mirror. “Gotta say, it makes my day to come in and see you here.”

She responded with a brief, neutral laugh, brushing off his comment as she began trimming his hair. “Just here to make sure you’re looking sharp.”

Bucky stayed a little longer by the counter, pretending to be absorbed in his coffee. But his eyes flicked up occasionally, catching the exchange in the mirror’s reflection.

Watching him quietly eating the last bite of tart at the counter, Brian smirked, leaning back in the chair with a lazy grin. “You know,” he drawled, gazing at her intently, “One of these days, I’ll have to get my mouth on that pie of yours.” The words were laced with an unmistakable undertone, his gaze lingering on her as if testing the waters.

Her hand stopped just for a fraction of a second before she responded, a quick, professional smile in place. “Well, I’ll let you know if I ever start taking special orders.” Her words were smooth and dismissive, sidestepping his implication with practiced ease.

Bucky’s fingers tightened around his mug. Was this modern flirting? He found himself suppressing the urge to remind Brian of a little respect. But with what right exactly? Some possessive urge rooted over a long-ago act of kindness? They’d barely exchanged a handful of words, words that, by the way, he could hardly string. Still, he couldn’t shake a barely contained irritation that crept inside him, a feeling both unfamiliar and too familiar all at once.

Brian’s flirting continued, his tone growing bolder as he lounged in the chair, eyes fixed on her as she tried to maintain her professional composure. Eventually, Bucky’s patience snapped.

He placed his mug down with a soft clink, rising to his full height and striding over, casting a long shadow across the two of them.

With a calm, steely edge to his voice, he focused his gaze on her. “Well, sweetheart, I’ve got some things to take care of with Sam. But I can’t wait to see you in that dress later.”

She blinked, her scissors pausing mid-snip as she processed what he’d just said. Then, catching on to the improvisation, she broke into a warm smile, tilting her head with a look of mock apology toward Brian before turning fully to Bucky.

“Oh, of course! Can’t wait to see you too, handsome.” she replied, adding a playful lilt to her voice. And without missing a beat, she tiptoed up, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, her hand resting on his shoulder for a bit of extra effect.

Brian’s smile faltered, his expression shifting to one of discomfort as he glanced away, the bravado vanishing from his eyes.

Bucky turned smoothly, not sparing Brian a single glance as he made his way over to Sam, his steps calm and unhurried. The entire shop seemed to hold its breath, caught in the aftermath of the exchange. Sam looked at him with a quirked brow, and Frank… just narrowed his gaze. Has something been going on under his nose with this redeemed hippie and he didn’t know about it?

Meanwhile, she could barely keep her thoughts straight. Her heart pounded wildly, a thousand questions firing off in her mind as she mentally replayed what had just happened. First, the shock that Bucky had stepped in at all, with that calm authority that had left Brian squirming. Then, there was how effortlessly he’d delivered his line, so convincingly she almost believed it herself. And finally... God, the way he smelled when she leaned up to kiss him. Cedar, leather, and masculinity. She could still feel the trace warmth of his lean, muscular shoulder beneath her hand.

Had she overdone it? The kissing, the touching… she wasn’t sure, though part of her almost wished it had been real. She bit her lip, determined to focus on the task at hand as Brian shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his earlier smugness replaced by an awkward silence.

Bucky reached Sam, who glanced up with a grin as he passed over the stack of pamphlets. “So… all this time you had a girlfriend and didn’t say a word, Tinman? That is low, even for you” Sam teased under his breath, low enough that only Bucky could hear.

“No, I didn’t.” Bucky muttered; his jaw tight but the faintest hint of a smirk breaking through. He didn’t meet Sam’s gaze, he kept his eyes on the pamphlets, straightening them a bit too intently.

-----

A month had passed since that unusual afternoon in the shop. Today, with the sun warm and inviting, she had settled on a park bench, her fingers skillfully crocheting yarn into neat, colorful granny squares. The sunlight caught the vivid hues, making them seem to glow against her lap, and she was fully absorbed in her work.

Bucky was passing through the park on his way home, hands stuffed in his pockets, mind preoccupied with thoughts stirred up from a grueling therapy session. But then he saw her, sitting just across the path. The sight brought him to a sudden halt. There she was, peaceful and intent on her project, just as she’d been all those years ago. Back then, he’d only dared to steal quick, curious glances, a silent observer bound by his handler’s whims. But today, seeing her absorbed in those same small stitches, he felt an undeniable urge to bridge the distance between them. It took him a moment to remind himself that he was free to walk over, to break the silence himself. He took a breath, then walked toward her.

When his shadow fell over her work, she looked up, eyes widening with recognition. “Oh!” she said, surprised, but quickly smiled, recovering from the initial shock. “Hey, stranger.”

He felt a small, tentative smile come through despite himself. “Hey,” he murmured. His gaze flickered down to the granny squares arranged on her lap. “I’m interrupting? You just looked focused.”

She chuckled, lifting the half-formed square to show him. “Not at all; it’s my therapy, I guess. Helps me unwind.” Then, after a beat, she patted the space beside her. “Want to join me for a bit?”

He hesitated briefly before nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that.” He sat down, the air between them comfortable but charged, a quiet warmth settling over them.

For a moment, neither spoke, just content to share the quiet. Then, she glanced over at him. “You know, I never got the chance to thank you properly… for that day at the parlor, it meant a lot.”

He looked up, a hint of surprise in his expression, then shrugged slightly, a modest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t need thanking. But… you’re welcome.”

She smiled back, and that gesture eased something tense in his chest. He swallowed, gathering his thoughts, his fingers tracing the line of his glove. The moment felt right, and finally, he broke the silence, his voice a little hoarse. “There’s, uh… something I’ve been wanting to tell you.” He glanced down at his hands, his thumb stilling over his gloved palm. “If… if you’ve got some time.”

She paused, looking at him with a hint of curiosity, her hands resting on her project. “Of course.”

He sighed, the sound heavy as if exhaling years of hesitation. Slowly, deliberately, he began tugging at the glove on his left hand, peeling it off to reveal the metallic gleam beneath. The sun's soft light caught on the intricate panels and joints, giving the hand an almost otherworldly sheen.

Her hands stilled, the yarn forgotten in her lap. Her eyes widened briefly as she took it in. At first, she assumed it was just a particularly advanced prosthesis. But then he flexed his fingers, the subtle, fluid movement far too precise, too seamless for any ordinary piece of tech. And then everything clicked. She’d seen that hand -arm- before, on news reports and grainy footage, the infamous name whispered in fear, The Winter Soldier. But alongside that news had been another truth: the revelation that he’d been a victim, conditioned to act against his will. A mere puppet of Hydra’s schemes. A human pet trained to secure their darkest ambitions.

Her gaze softened, a mix of understanding and quiet sorrow replacing her initial shock. She didn’t flinch or retreat. Instead, she studied his face, the way his jaw tensed, his shoulders bracing as if he expected her to pull away. She hesitated, her hand hovering over his for a moment before gently resting on his vibranium fingers. “Why are you showing me this?”

He stared at her hand, where it lay against his as if the touch was foreign to him, something he didn’t know how to accept. Finally, he sighed, the weight of the confession evident in the way his shoulders slumped. “Because,” he began, his voice low, “almost nine years ago, you worked as a nanny for a family that went by Pierce.”

Her brow furrowed, surprised that he’d brought up something from so long ago, and puzzled by how he could possibly know. Only a handful of people had ever been in that apartment, and none of them had been a man with a metal arm.

“How… how do you know that?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, though a thousand questions began swirling in her mind.

“They told you I was security detail,” he said, watching her closely. “Some faceless bodyguard lurking in the shadows. Except it wasn’t exactly… just that.” His voice softened, a hint of remorse lacing each word.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to connect the dots. She then remembered the quiet figure who’d kept to the periphery, masked, his posture rigid and controlled, his entire presence veiled in secrecy. His silence had unnerved her at first, but soon, it had become as much a part of the background as the furniture in the apartment. “You’re… that was… you were…” The realization dawned slowly, her hand involuntarily covering her mouth as the pieces slid into place.

He nodded, not breaking eye contact. “I couldn’t say anything back then. Couldn’t even… react on my own accord. But I remember you. I remember the little things you did. The treats you left, the music… your hobby.” His gaze fell briefly to her hands, where her current project lay forgotten. “It was… one of the only kindnesses I knew, back then.”

She stared, absorbing the weight of his confession, piecing together the faint memories of that silent figure in the shadows, the one she’d tried to reach in small, gentle ways. The realization that the man in front of her, the Winter Soldier, was him left her feeling as though a veil had lifted, revealing a hidden, tragic depth.

“So… you were there, but you weren’t allowed to… be you,” she said softly, the words tumbling out as she tried to grasp it all.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost a sigh. “There’s a lot of shit I’m still sorting through, but… I couldn’t shake the thought of telling you. What you did back then,” he paused, his voice dipping to a whisper, “it meant more to me than you know.”

She looked down, her heart catching at the sincerity in his words. Before she could respond, he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with a bit of hesitation.

“Look,” he started, and she noticed his ears had turned a faint shade of red. “I, uh… don’t want to scare you off here. I get it if you think I’m coming on too strong, or if this seems… creepy.” He shifted, his gaze uncertain but still holding hers. “But I wanted to ask if maybe you’d like to… if you’d want to get a coffee sometime… or, I don’t know, maybe dinner?” A hint of nervousness flickered in his blue eyes, and he broke into a self-conscious grin. “Unless that sounds like a terrible idea, in which case, we could also just… feed some ducks in the park or something,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping him. ‘Feeding ducks? Do people still even do that?’

Seeing him tripping over his words made her heart skip. Smiling, she let the silence linger for just a moment before nodding. “I’d like that, whatever you’d prefer, coffee, dinner… or even feeding the ducks.”

Relief flooded his face, his shoulders relaxing. He chuckled, and for the first time, she saw a glimpse of someone who had spent far too long hidden behind walls, someone who was finally allowing himself a chance to live.

----------

Saturday’s sunset hadn’t even fully settled in when Bucky found himself pacing toward the parlor, nerves buzzing under his skin. This was his first proper date since 1943, and he felt like a high school boy. An awkward, brooding, traumatized, and scarred high school boy. Great, he thought, glancing up at the swirling clouds that promised rain, thunder echoing faintly from afar. He checked his reflection in a nearby window, adjusting his collar, brushing a hand through his hair. The frown he caught staring back only made him feel more ridiculous.

He stepped into the shop and spotted her immediately, busying herself around the place, her brow knit in concentration. She didn’t notice him at first, but when she finally looked up, her eyes lit up in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” she said, smiling wide as she took him in.

“Hey,” he replied, a little awkwardly, realizing he’d arrived early. Clearing his throat, he lifted the small bouquet he’d brought, feeling hopeful and self-conscious as he handed them over. “Uh… these are for you.”

She blinked, clearly touched. “Bucky… thank you. They’re beautiful.” She inhaled the scent, and he could have sworn he saw a soft glow in her cheeks. The simple gesture seemed to have landed, warming him from the inside out.

Frank, from behind the counter, watched the whole exchange, his usual skeptical gaze softening just a little at the sight of the flowers. For a moment, Bucky felt like he’d earned a point of approval from the old man.

Just then, another roll of thunder echoed in the distance, making her glance up at him with a teasing smile. “You think we’ll beat the storm?”

He held out his arm, “Guess we’ll find out,” he said with a lopsided grin, trying to keep his cool despite the nerves.

And with that, they headed out, stepping into the evening together, the storm chasing them as they walked to the nearby bistro.

The rain came down fast and thick, a relentless curtain that left them drenched within seconds. They huddled together under a small awning, Bucky grimacing as he realized he hadn’t even thought of bringing an umbrella -not that he owned one, anyway-. He glanced over at her, taking in the way her dress clung to her, soaked through, her hair starting to curl from the dampness. He raked a hand through his dripping hair, sighing.

“Didn’t see this coming,” he muttered, half to himself, half to her. “I’m… sorry.”

She blinked up at him, eyes wide and surprised. “Why are you apologizing for the weather?”

He shrugged, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Guess I feel like I should’ve been prepared.” He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little foolish for not planning better. “I could… call you a cab? We can try for another night.”

She gave him a tentative smile, her cheeks a little pink. “Or… if you want, my place is just upstairs from the parlor. You’re already here, and it’s warm. We could dry off and… watch a movie? Order some dinner?”

Bucky blinked, a bit taken aback. The invitation tugged at something deep and old-fashioned inside him. A woman who lived alone, inviting her date to her house at night. But then again, times had changed, and so had he. He could feel the pull, that quiet, magnetic urge to spend a little more time in her company, and really, wasn’t that the whole point of tonight?

With a flicker of a smile, he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds nice,” he said, relaxing just a bit. He followed her through the rain-drenched streets, his boots splashing lightly in the shallow puddles until they reached the stairwell beside the parlor that led up to her apartment. She fumbled with her keys, glancing over her shoulder to flash him a quick, almost conspiratorial grin.

As they stepped inside, she chuckled, eyeing his soaked clothes. “I can get you some of Frank’s stuff to change into,” she offered, giving his drenched jacket a sympathetic look. “I do his laundry, so I’m sure we’ll find something that fits you. Just… don’t tell him.” She winked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Despite the cold clothes sticking to his skin, Bucky felt a warm chuckle bubble up. “I think I can keep a secret,” he said, playing along, his gaze lingering on her smile a second longer than he meant to. There, surrounded by warm, mismatched furniture and soft, inviting blankets, he felt something uncoil, like he was being welcomed into a place that felt… real, lived on.

"Sorry about the mess," she murmured, disappearing toward a small laundry room tucked around the corner.

Bucky gave a noncommittal grunt, his gaze following her despite himself. He tried to focus on anything else, but the soaked dress clung to every inch of her, tracing her silhouette in a way that made it impossible to look away. He found himself rooted to the spot, too aware of his heartbeat drumming harder than it should. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. Get a grip, he told himself. Standing there in a small puddle, he felt more out of place than ever, and yet, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anywhere else.

She returned a moment later with a bundle of clothes in her hands, a pair of worn pants that looked like they’d sit loose and just shy of his ankles, along with a white tank top and a blue flannel. “It’ll do for now, though, fair warning, he’s got about half your shoulders, so don’t blame me if the fit’s a bit... weird.”

Bucky accepted the clothes, glancing at the pants with a wry smile. “Weird’s fine,” he mumbled, grateful for anything dry but wondering if he’d end up looking like he’d raided a teenager’s closet.

Her laughter was light as she stepped back. “I’ll give you a minute to get changed,” she said, nodding toward a corner of the room. Then, she grabbed a set of fresh clothes for herself, giving him a quick nod before slipping off to the bathroom.

Once alone, Bucky looked down at the makeshift outfit, a mixture of humor and nerves settling in. It was strange how easy she made things feel, and stranger still how much he found himself wanting to fit, if only for this evening.

Eventually, she emerged from the bathroom with a casual skirt and a matching blouse, feeling more at ease, until her gaze landed on Bucky. He was leaning against the window, looking out at the rain-soaked street, lost in thought. The borrowed pants hung low on his hips, but it was the white tank top that made her brain stutter. It clung to him in a way that left little to the imagination, stretched taut across his broad chest, outlining every defined line of muscle. She could even make out the slight press of his nipples through the fabric, a testament to the strain his frame put on the shirt that was clearly never made for him. She noticed the blue shirt he’d left folded on the table, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Couldn’t make the flannel work?”

Bucky glanced over, the corner of his mouth lifting in a self-conscious smirk. “Yeah… tried it,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t quite fit.”

She quickly averted her gaze, trying to mask the impure thoughts racing through her mind as she gestured toward the bulky cabinet under the TV. “So… movie or board game?”

Bucky’s gaze lingered on her for a beat, soaking in the warmth of her place, the easy coziness of being alone here with her. He felt a soft pull again, something that made him want to take another step closer, to reach out and… “Let’s play,” he murmured, his voice a bit rough. He gave her a slight smile. “Show me what you’ve got.”

They fell into the games as if nothing else existed. The hours slipped by unnoticed, each turn they took erasing a little more of the self-consciousness they’d started with. Laughter broke through the usual stillness of her living room, punctuated by playful jabs and shameless victory dances as they bickered over the rules and accused each other of cheating with an ease that felt familiar and comfortable.

At some point, she stopped worrying about how much she was watching him. It didn’t matter if her gaze lingered on the way his shoulders hunched with focus, or if she found herself distracted by the rare, soft chuckle he let slip when she pulled a fast one on him. And Bucky, for his part, began to let go of his usual reservations. Here, in her warm, cluttered living room with mismatched furniture and board game boxes stacked by the couch, he felt no need to carry the weight of conversation or second-guess every gesture. He didn’t need to measure himself against the usual question of what was “normal” or “appropriate.” He just… existed, slipping into her rhythm like it was second nature.

As the night wore on, they were sitting on the floor, engrossed in another game, the coffee table cluttered with pieces and cards. The mood had shifted from playful to fiercely competitive. Both of them were leaning forward, so focused on the game that they barely noticed how close they’d become.

Amid a particularly tense round, she reached forward quickly to snatch one of his pieces. Bucky, acting on pure instinct, grabbed her wrist to stop her. But when doing so, his grip was a little too forceful, and before either of them could react, she lost her balance. She lurched forward, crashing into the coffee table, her hands scrambling for purchase as she toppled over, knocking the game pieces everywhere.

Bucky froze, his eyes wide with shock as he realized what had happened. His heart raced as guilt and embarrassment washed over him.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, his voice rough with panic. His hand hovered near her, unsure whether to touch her or give her space. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t think… are you okay?”

She sat up, a little dazed but unharmed. Her face flushed with the surprise of the fall, but she managed to smile softly, trying to ease the tension. “I’m fine. Really. Just… caught off guard.”

Bucky didn’t move from his spot, his entire body taut with self-reproach. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze as he muttered more apologies. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to grab you like that.” His words tumbled over each other in a hurried mess.

Her eyes softened, and she quickly tried to reassure him, though she could see the genuine discomfort in his posture. “It’s fine,” she said calmly. “I’m alright, seriously. You didn’t hurt me.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening. The self-reproach was already spiraling in his mind, the usual inner monologue of guilt and doubt taking over. “I’m a fucking mess,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I can’t even…”

She reached out slowly, touching his arm lightly to ground him. “It’s okay,” she said again, but she saw it happening, his retreat, and it made her heart sink. He was going to pull away. She could see it in his posture, the way his gaze avoided hers, the tension in his shoulders as if he was already preparing to leave.

Without thinking, without any plan, she blurted out the only thing that had been swirling around in her head since the moment they started this strange, unpredictable connection. "I really like you."

The words hung in the air, louder than anything she’d ever said before, a sudden bomb dropped in the middle of their awkward standoff. Her breath caught in her throat as soon as they left her mouth, and her heart skipped a beat, the rush of adrenaline almost as strong as the surge of fear. She could already feel her cheeks flushing, the vulnerability creeping in, but she couldn’t take it back now.

Bucky’s head snapped up at her words, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he looked at her, stunned. For a moment, all he could do was stare, as if he were trying to make sense of what she’d just said. His mind had been racing, ready to bolt, but her confession grounded him, holding him in place.

“You… like me.” he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper, still slightly skeptical.

She smiled in a way that was both reassuring and a bit teasing. “Well, that was the whole point of going on a date, right?” His gaze flickered up, surprised, as she continued, “Why do you think I’d say yes to your invitation in the first place? I was even down to feed ducks with you.” Her smile widened, trying to lighten the mood, and a bit of that earlier sparkle returned to his eyes.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he shook his head, a mix of relief and amusement in his expression. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. Maybe you’d just be nice, humor me a little.”

She straightened up, putting on her best impression of an old-fashioned debutante. “Excuse you, but I don’t feed ducks with just anyone, what kind of woman do you think I am?” The statement had him laughing, a deep, hearty laugh that made his eyes crinkle and his nose wrinkle in an adorably unguarded way, making her knees feel like jelly.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t realize I was asking for such an honor. Guess I’ll have to work my way up to that level of duck-feeding trust.”

Her heart pounded as she met his steady, unflinching gaze, and managed to find her voice. “So… if you’re serious about making up for that offense,” she teased, “I might be open to… one little act of apology.”

He paused, his eyes widening just a fraction as he took in her words, understanding dawning across his features. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze softened as he reached up, almost on instinct, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear with a featherlight touch.

“I… think I can manage that,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. His thumb skimmed her cheek, his fingers brushing along her jaw as he leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to stop him. Then, finally, his lips touched hers, gentle and chaste. When they broke apart, they stayed close, foreheads nearly touching, neither quite ready to pull away. Bucky’s hand lingered on her face, his thumb still grazing her cheek as he whispered, “Is that enough to earn back your trust, or do I still have some work to do?”

She laughed softly, the sound carrying the last traces of nervousness and turning into pure warmth. “I think… that was a pretty good start.” Then she bit her lip, leaning further into his touch, “Though, maybe…” she whispered, her voice dropping to a daring, playful note, “you might have to put in a bit more effort to repair the affront on my reputation.”

He didn’t need any further invitation. His hand slipped around the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her close, capturing her mouth with an intensity that made her knees feel weak. This wasn’t the gentle, tentative kiss from before; this was raw, heated, as though he was pouring all the things he couldn’t say into the way his lips moved against hers.

His mouth parted, his tongue sliding against hers, drawing a soft, involuntary gasp from her. She melted against him, her hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight, grounding herself against the overwhelming rush of sensation. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, his thumb brushing the back of her neck as he sensually assaulted her mouth.

When he finally broke away, his breathing ragged, he kept his hand on the back of her head. His burning gaze met hers, and he managed a rough, breathless murmur, “Was that… enough effort?”

Her cheeks flushed, her voice barely a whisper. “That’ll… do.” But the playful smile on her lips told him she wasn’t entirely ready to let go either.

Bucky’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, whispering her name, low and reverent, as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, each warm breath sending shivers over her skin. Her fingers wove into his hair, her other hand tracing the rough line of stubble along his jaw. Slowly, she tugged him up, their lips meeting again in a heated kiss.

The world around them seemed to fade entirely, the patter of rain on the window the only sound other than their breathless murmurs. His lips were hot and demanding against hers, his hand firm on her waist as he eased them both down to the plush carpet. The scattered board game pieces were forgotten, pressing into their knees and elbows as they moved together, desperate and unrestrained.

Bucky’s vibranium fingers brushed up her side, cool and deliberate, his other hand still cupping the back of her head to angle her closer. His lips left hers, trailing down her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin just above her collarbone as his hand slid beneath her blouse, fingertips tracing patterns along her skin.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders, and his back, as she tugged him closer, her nails grazing just enough to make him hiss. His breathing was uneven, as he murmured her name against her skin, reverent and raw. “Tell me,” He rasped, his voice thick with need, “Tell me you want this.”

She reached for his face, her fingers tracing the rough line of stubble along his jaw. “I do.”

Bucky’s lips crashed onto hers, urgent yet unhurried, drinking in every soft gasp she gave him. His weight pressed her down against the plush carpet as his hand slid up the curve of her thigh beneath her skirt. The soft fabric bunched under his touch, his fingers brushing higher until the cool air met her exposed skin. She shivered, but not from the chill.

His other hand, the vibranium one, moved to the delicate buttons of her blouse.

Carefully, almost reverently, he slipped each button free, his knuckles brushing against her bare skin. When the blouse finally fell open, he pulled back just enough to drink her in, his chest rising and falling heavily.

The vibranium hand moved to the buttons of her blouse, steady but reverent. One by one, the delicate closures came undone, and as the fabric fell away, his knuckles brushed against the warm skin of her chest, drawing a quiet moan from her lips. When the blouse finally opened, he pulled back just enough to look at her, his heavy-lidded eyes dark with desire as his chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“God,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of want. The hand on her thigh squeezed gently, as if grounding himself in her, while his other hand grazed her exposed collarbone, slipping beneath the straps of her bra.

Her breath hitched as his fingers teased along the edge of the fabric before slipping it down her shoulder. His lips followed, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that made her arch beneath him. The scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin only heightened the sensation. His mouth moved lower, dragging over the curve of her breast until his lips hovered above the thin lace of her bra.

She gasped as he nipped lightly through the fabric, his tongue following to soothe the sting. “Bucky,” she whispered, her voice trembling but filled with need.

His gaze flicked up to hers as his hand came up to cup her other breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the lace, drawing a soft, breathy moan from her and then repeating the motion, this time circling the stiffened peak with a deliberate slowness that had her squirming beneath him.

Her hips shifted instinctively, brushing against his, and that’s when she felt his hardness, pressing insistently against her thigh through the loose fabric of his borrowed pants, and she arched into him, her hands slipping beneath his tank top to trace the hard planes of his chest.

“Feel what you do to me?” he rasped, his voice breaking as her fingers trailed lower, tracing the edge of his waistband.

Her answer was a breathless kiss, open and hungry, her teeth tugging lightly at his lower lip before her tongue swept into his mouth. He groaned against her, his hips pressing down against hers in a slow, deliberate grind that made them both gasp.

The friction between them built as his hand moved from her breast, sliding down her side to grip her hip. He tugged her leg higher around his waist, pressing himself more firmly against her, the thin layers of fabric between them doing little to muffle the heat of their bodies. Her nails scraped lightly down his back as he thrust his hips again, the pressure of his cock against her clothed clit sending sparks of pleasure through her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, needy.

He stilled for a heartbeat, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “I need you to use your words, doll,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and thick with desire.

Her cheeks flushed, the weight of his gaze making her shy for a moment. But the throbbing between her thighs burned hotter than her embarrassment. She licked her lips, her voice a little bolder now. “I… want you inside me.”

His smirk vanished, replaced by something darker, hungrier. He reached behind his neck to pull off his tank top in one swift motion.

The scars on his shoulder and chest caught the dim light, jagged reminders of everything he’d endured. Her fingers stilled against his chest, her breath catching as she took him in. But there wasn’t fear or pity in her gaze, only awe, tenderness, and something that made his throat tighten.

“You’re so handsome,” she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips to his collarbone. Her kisses trailed across his skin, soft and reverent, lingering on the edge of a scar.

The last of his self-consciousness melted away at her touch, and he growled softly, pushing her back down onto the carpet. His vibranium hand wrapped around her wrists, pinning them above her head with just enough pressure to make her breath hitch.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his lips brushing her ear as his free hand slid down her body. He traced the curve of her waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. Her breath hitched as his hand dipped beneath the fabric teasing her, tracing slow circles over her clit with controlled and deliberate movements, as if savoring every little sound she made.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her jaw before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “All for me, huh?”

“Bucky,” she gasped, her hips bucking against his hand.

“Patience, doll, I’m a little… rusty.” he whispered, as his fingers slid lower, parting her folds and slipping inside her. Her moan was like music to his ears, her body arching beneath him as he set a slow, maddening rhythm.

She writhed against him, her breathless gasps and whispered pleas spurring him on. He watched her intently, his gaze dark and focused, each stroke and curl inside her seeking out what made her moan, what made her gasp his name like a prayer.

Her hands twisted above her head where his metal hand kept them pinned, her thighs trembling as her body moved instinctively against his. "That's it," he murmured, his lips brushing over her neck. "Let me hear you. Tell me what feels good."

A strangled cry escaped her lips as his fingers found just the right spot, his thumb brushing over her clit in perfect tandem. Her hips bucked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he gave her. Her voice was breathless, broken as she moaned, "Bucky, right there… oh, God, right there."

His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and when he spoke, his voice was gravelly and thick. “Got you, sweetheart. Just let go for me.”

She shattered beneath him moments later, her head tipping back as the waves of her release washed over her. Her cries filled the room, mingling with the rhythm of the rain outside. Bucky felt the tight coil of his own restraint loosen at the sight of her coming undone. Any lingering self-doubt evaporated, replaced by the raw satisfaction of knowing he’d done that, he’d learned her, he’d given her this.

He slowed his movements, easing her down gently, his fingers still stroking her as she trembled beneath him. When her breathing steadied, he brought his hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers as he licked his fingers clean, savoring her taste with a low groan.

Her cheeks flushed, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Rusty, huh?” she murmured with a shaky laugh, her voice tinged with both awe and affection.

With a wicked grin, Bucky shifted, his hands fumbling to rid himself of his pants as the heat between them threatened to consume him whole. But as he pushed up onto his knees, something sharp jabbed into him, and he froze.

“Son of a…” He hissed, lifting his knee and finding a pointy plastic game piece stuck underneath it. He held it up between two fingers, glaring at the offending object like it had personally insulted him. “Seriously?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away. “That’s what happens when you’re too eager and don’t clear the battlefield first.”

“Oh, it’s a battlefield now, huh?” he grumbled, tossing the offending piece aside with a flick of his wrist. Despite his frustration, the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a suppressed grin.

He stood quickly, tugging his pants down with a low, irritated huff, but the urgency in his movements never wavered.

Her gaze lingered on him, her breath catching as her eyes traced every line of his body, every mark that told a story he didn’t always want to remember.

The heat in his expression faltered for just a second, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and his lips twitched in a self-conscious smirk. Climbing back on top of her, he didn’t hesitate as her hands slid up his arms, guiding him closer. Her lips found his pulse point, trailing lower to the curve of his collarbone. When her lips brushed over a jagged scar, he exhaled sharply, his hand catching her chin, tilting her face toward his.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he rasped, his voice a mix of awe and hunger.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief as her lips curled into a teasing smile. “I thought we’d already established this was a battlefield,” she whispered.

“Well… I’m not exactly known for doing sloppy jobs while battling sweetheart” With one swift movement he ripped the seams of her panties, then guided himself with one hand, the thick tip of his cock pressing lightly against her slick entrance. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged it up and down her folds, catching on her clit with every pass. Her hips jerked against him, a breathless moan escaping her lips. “You’re so ready for me,” he murmured, his voice thick as he pressed himself harder against her, the friction almost too much. “Think you can take all of me, doll?”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know if you don’t-”

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips before he eased into her slowly, inch by thick inch, her teasing interrupted with a gasp that turned into a long, broken moan as he filled her completely. He groaned, his forehead pressing to hers as he stilled for a moment, letting her adjust to his size.

He started slow, rolling his hips into hers with a deliberate rhythm, his breath hot against her neck as he groaned softly with each thrust. Her body arched beneath him, meeting him as best she could, though the stretch of him left her gasping.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured with roughed voice, as his lips brushed her temple.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and beneath her, the scattered cards and pieces dug into her back, but the discomfort was barely registered through the haze of pleasure coursing through her.

“Bucky…” she whimpered, her voice shaky, her nails scraping lightly against his skin as she clenched around him.

“Hold on, doll,” he rasped, his hand sliding behind her thigh, lifting her leg higher to hook it around his waist. The new angle sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through her, and she cried out, her head falling back as he thrust deeper, harder.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, his dog tags swaying with each movement. The faint metallic clink added to the symphony of their labored breaths and the rain tapping against the window.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t ground herself as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and the sharp tug sent a low, primal growl rumbling through his chest. He shifted, sliding his arm beneath her other thigh, resting the back of her knee on his inner elbow, thrusting deeper, harder, making her cry out, her back arching as he drove her closer to the edge. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice rough and commanding, his rhythm relentless now. Her nails scraped against the rug beneath her, trying desperately to find some kind of anchor as her body writhed beneath him. “You feel so damn good,” he muttered, his tone reverent yet hungry, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss as he continued to take her apart.

Sensing he wouldn’t last much longer, Bucky shifted slightly, his metal hand sneaking between their bodies. The coolness of vibranium against her overheated skin sent a jolt through her, and then his fingers found her clit. He circled it with slow, deliberate strokes, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips.

But he wasn’t done. He pressed his index finger at her entrance, sliding it inside alongside his cock. The new stretch made her gasp again, her back arching against him.

“Bucky!” she cried, her voice breaking on his name.

He froze for a fraction of a second, giving her time to adjust, before driving his finger in knuckle-deep. The motion coaxed a pleasured cry from her as he curled the digit, pressing into that spot deep inside that made her see stars.

His thumb resumed its work on her clit, circling in time with the thrust of his hips and the curling of his finger.

Her cries grew louder, each sound spurring him on. The dual sensation of his cock and his finger drove her higher, her body trembling beneath him as pleasure spiraled through her in an unrelenting wave.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath hot and uneven as he continued to work her over. “Falling apart for me.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, the only thing grounding her as she spiraled closer to the edge. The combination of his relentless thrusts, the pressure on her clit, and the maddening stretch inside her finally shattered her. She cried out, her entire body trembling as the climax ripped through her, pleasure blinding and all-consuming.

Bucky groaned deeply as he felt her tighten around him, her release dragging him over the edge. He withdrew his finger, his hand gripping her hip as he buried himself fully inside her with one final thrust, spilling his hot seed deep inside her. His breath came in heavy pants against her skin, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were their ragged breathing and the faint patter of rain against the window. He shifted slightly, resting his forehead against hers while their bodies were still entwined.

She let out a soft, contented hum, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his shoulder. “Again, you call this being rusty?” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile, but before she could tease him further, his expression shifted, a flicker of self-doubt breaking through the earlier confidence.

He ran a hand through his hair, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “That thing I did,” he started, his voice low, almost hesitant, “with… y’know, my finger…” He trailed off, his hand gesturing vaguely, the tension in his shoulders betraying his uncertainty. “Was that too much? Too… weird?”

Her lips parted in surprise, but then a small, warm smile curved them. “Weird? Bucky…” She leaned in, resting her hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. “It wasn’t too much. It was… creative.” She chuckled softly, her cheeks flushing at the memory. “Unexpected, yeah. But in the best way.”

His brow furrowed, still caught in his head. “I just didn’t know if I… I mean, it felt right at the moment, but-”

She interrupted him with a light kiss, her hand sliding to cup his jaw. “It was right,” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his. “Don’t overthink it. Just… trust me when I say you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Her lips quirked into a teasing smile, the light tone of her voice breaking the intensity. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have pointy things prickling at my ass.”

Bucky blinked, and then his eyes darted to the floor around them, suddenly remembering the scattered game pieces and cards beneath her. “Shit,” he muttered, immediately shifting off her. “Sorry, doll, hold on.”

He backed off her quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between the scattered cards and her flushed disheveled state.

“Relax. I was a little… preoccupied before to notice.” She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow.

Still, he bent to pick up every piece around her, muttering about “pointy plastic landmines.” When he finished, he straightened and extended a hand to her, pulling her gently to her feet.

“I’ll make sure next time is on a battlefield that’s… less hazardous,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, self-conscious smile.

“Next time, huh?” she teased, brushing her fingers lightly over his chest. “Confident now, are we?”

Bucky’s grin grew, a flicker of his earlier confidence returning. “I might be. If you’re not scared off by my… tactics.”

Her fingers continued to trail lightly along his chest, stopping just above his heart. “Not scared. Intrigued.”

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes darkening with a renewed spark as he slipped his hand around the back of her head. With a gentle yet insistent pull, he drew her closer, his lips capturing hers in a sensual kiss. Outside, the rain continued with its steady rhythm, soft and unrelenting, a distant soundtrack to the quiet intimacy they shared, where nothing else mattered but the heat of their kiss.

Just in case someone is interested, this is the song that inspired the story.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[slut4nicholas]

𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕 𝙒𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀…

lots and lots of cuddles

after a long and exhausting day on set, he would eagerly come home, looking forward to seeing you, embracing you, and making you feel safe and comfortable with his affectionate kisses and warm embraces.

face time calls

through out his day he would call up just to check in on you and fill you in about how his day was going and making sure you're okay especially when he's not in town

movie marathons

it's so heartwarming to see how much nicholas enjoys watching movies and finding inspiration from them, especially those featuring his favorite actors. it's lovely that he makes time to relax and enjoy some quality time with you, even if it's just a quiet evening in, ordering food and watching a movie together.

“baby look at this part you can’t miss it it’s so good”

pet names

he is an incredibly loving and caring boyfriend. the way he uses endearing names for you makes you feel so loved and gives you butterflies every time. It's heartwarming for him to see how much these little gestures mean to you, especially with the variety of names he uses throughout the week. It's clear to him that those moments are truly special to you some of his favorites are

doll

baby

lover

sweetie

darling

pda (public display of affection)

nicholas shows everyone how much he cares about you by sharing photos of your time together on Instagram, holding your hand in public, and being affectionate with you. he likes to show the world that you are together by giving you random kisses and standing behind you like your personal bodyguard

trips

you both have a shared passion for exploring the world, which is one of his favorite things to do when he has some time off from his hectic schedule. despite being booked and busy, he enjoys taking you out of the country to discover new places. seeing your smile and experiencing new cultures together warms his heart, knowing that he's bringing you joy and creating lasting memories together.

cooking together

even when you enjoy being the chef of the house and in the relationship, nicholas will always be there by your side, assisting you with chopping vegetables or handing you the seasonings. sometimes, when the weather is nice, he takes charge of the grill while you prepare the side dishes in the kitchen. afterwards, you both share some drinks and enjoy the meal that you created together.

spoiling you

nicholas enjoys taking you shopping or picking up things for you and bringing them home, which was initially a pleasant surprise. however, as it has become a daily occurrence, you've grown accustomed to it. he brings you various items, such as jewelry, roses, or your favorite snacks. uou've mentioned to him that it's not necessary for the gifts to be expensive, as it's the thought behind them that truly matters.

sex sex sex

oh boy, every morning, every day, every night when he’s not in town it’s over the phone. pictures here and there teasing him while he’s at work to the point where he has to excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to head to the car or the bathroom to get himself off. anywhere in the house the bathroom, the shower, the living room, the kitchen, the dining room table, the floor, the bed, outside, the patio area, or in the car no matter where you two are when he craves you he wants you right there and of course, you say yes as you love to please him. you two are in love there’s definitely no denying that.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hi!! i hope you like this little fic i wrote i will be writing a longer one soon don’t worry xx

remember feel free to ask or submit any requests

[artificial-transmutations]

Grunt Force Gamer

Friday evening, finally. After a rather stressful week at the office, Finn was looking forward to his favorite past-time activity, which was blasting through the missions of *Duty Force Alpha* with his buddies. He was a bit surprised though when he logged into the voice server to find only one of his teammates there, even though he was the one who was late.

"Hey Beck! Sorry I'm late. Where is everyone?" he asked.

Beck was the newest addition to the team and had only joined a few weeks ago, bringing them up to five guys, or a whole squad.

"Let's see..." the other guy answered.

"Joey has to help a friend to move, so he is out for tonight. Alex has to prepare a presentation for his work on Monday. And I haven't heard from Dave at all."

Finn groaned.

"So, probably girl trouble again." Dave had a history of disappearing without any trace for a couple of days, only to emerge again a few days later and explaining that he was on a date. It never seemed to work out in the long term, though.

"Anyway. What about you?"

"I'm game. Looks it's just the two of us tonight." said Beck, and Finn could vividly imagine the cocky grin of the other guy, even though their cams were off right now. Finn agreed and started up the game but couldn't stop his heart from beating faster. The thing about Beck was that he wasn't just the newest member of their team or a cool guy to hang out with. Beck was *also* rather hot, especially for a gamer, and every time he spoke, his voice alone was enough to send a chill down Finn's spine. In short, Finn had a hard crush on the other man, and the prospect of spending the evening alone with him - even though it was just digital proximity - was both exciting and frightening to him.

The trouble was: Finn knew borderline nothing about Beck at all. He knew they lived in the same city and his first name, but that was about it. He had no idea if Beck was into guys or if he was single - which Finn could hardly imagine either way - or what his type was. And, of course, he was way too shy to actually ask him.

Just as Finn logged onto the game server, Beck spoke up again.

"Ah fuck, I've got to go AFK for a few minutes again, sorry."

"Sure, no problem. I'll go get a snack as well."

Finn muted his microphone, but instead of going to the kitchen, he was quickly distracted by a message from the game, announcing a change in skill trees. As he was reading the patch notes, however, after some moments, he heard a strange noise from his headset. It sounded a bit like a quiet slapping sound, and while he was still trying to identify what it was, a faint moan reached his ears.

Oh. *Oh*! Finn froze as his brain connected the dots. Beck hadn't gone AFK in a broader sense. Well, his hands probably were off the keyboard, but...

His mind was racing, and his own cock was twitching. Beck was *jerking off* right now, and he had forgotten to mute his microphone. What now? He couldn't just sit here and listen to his teammate beat his meat, right? Perhaps he should give him some privacy and go get that snack.

On the other hand,... imagining the lean Beck stroking himself, probably watching some porn in his gaming chair was pretty hot, and Finn felt his own cock strain against his pants. He double checked his own microphone. Muted. Good. Finn felt his heart beating in his throat as he slowly fondled himself, not quite masturbating but listening to the increasingly labored breaths of his crush on the voice channel. He wondered what he was watching...

Suddenly, a coarse whisper joined the jerking noises and the moans.

"Oh yeah. Show me those big guns, Sarge. I bet your sexy biceps are so much bigger than your brain... Well, I wouldn't mind..."

No way! Beck wasn't just rubbing one out to a random porn video, but instead he was drooling over one of the game characters, Sarge, the meathead heavy type of the game.

But that meant...

Disappointment set in shortly after euphoria. Yes, that meant Beck was gay. But it also meant he preferred the more or less exact opposite of what Finn had to offer. He was a smart guy with a rather unimpressive physique - quite the contrast to Sarge, who was basically a meat mountain. In fact, Finn's character in *Duty Force Alpha* was the exact opposite of Sarge. It was a character class called 'Engineer', whose main feature was to build turrets to shoot down enemies.

But these were just game characters, right? A fantasy. Perhaps Beck didn't have those expectations in real life? Well, there was no way he would be able to ask him, not without giving away that he listened in on his masturbation session.

As if on cue, Beck was moaning loudly now, and with an almost grunting noise, the slapping stopped. He had finished, and Finn was hard. It took only a few seconds until the sound of his breath was gone, replaced by his normal voice.

"Hey, Finn. Did you get that snack?"

Finn decided to wait for two more minutes before unmuting his own microphone to keep up the charade.

"I'm back. Are you there, Beck?"

"Yeah, sorry man, I had to take care of something first. Anyway, let's get going!"

Taking care of something. You could say that. Beck chose his usual sniper character as if nothing had happened and Finn's mouse hovered over the engineer, but he hesitated. He knew Beck's fantasies rather well now. Perhaps if he tried to act a bit simpler... He clicked.

"No way! You're playing Sarge? What happened to your engi?" Beck's voice was surprised.

"Well, I..."

Finn cleared his throat, remembering that Beck apparently had the hots for the simple men.

"Heh, yeah, figured I'd mix things up a bit. These guys seem pretty... capable. And we need a bit of meat shield if it's just the two of us."

Adjusting his pattern of speech to what he thought was simple and cool was harder than expected. He found himself tripping over words more often than not, but if that had any effect on the other guy, he didn't show it immediately. He didn't ask further questions about his choice of character and the two of them went on their way, starting the first mission.

At first, Finn tried to play tactically, as he was used to by his engineer, but after half a mission, he reconsidered. Not only was Sarge simply not built for this playstyle, but he figured Beck would be more into another approach. So, he changed strategies completely and just charged into the enemies head-first and with blazing guns. This worked out remarkably well, and soon, Finn was having actual fun behaving like the meathead he was pretending to be. He even threw in a few grunts and battle cries for good measure that seemed to amuse Beck a lot.

"Sounds like someone is having fun with his new class!" he laughed after a particularly successful attack.

"Yeah. I'm just here to shoot and look pretty. No need to think of anything. Leave that to the smart guys. Like you. All I need is my guns."

The bit of boldness probably came from all the adrenalin, but it was getting easier to get into character now. In any case, Beck didn't seem to mind.

"Awesome man! So, what do you do when you're not gaming? Hit the gym much?"

Finn froze and almost got hit by an enemy assault as a consequence. Fuck! This was the first time Beck showed any interest in his personal life. But the honest answer to that would be 'no, never', clearly not what Beck wanted to hear. Against better judgment he had to lie.

"Uh... yeah, sometimes. Gotta stay in shape, y'know?", hoping that Beck would buy it.

"Nice! Hey, why don't you turn on your cam, show me those gains."

Crap. They sometimes played with their webcams on, that's how Finn knew how Beck looked like. However, since he had been sick and didn't want to turn on his own camera last time, Beck had not seen him before. And that was the only reason his bluff earlier could have worked.

"I don't know, I didn't clean my place..." he tried to evade, but it was no use.

"Aww, come on, man."

Beck had already turned on his camera and smiled into the lens, and Finn could see the handsome face he often dreamed of at night. That was, of course, too much for Finn to resist, and he turned on his camera, too, with a beating heart, expecting Beck to call him out on his lie.

But instead, Beck nodded approvingly.

"Yeah, nice. I can see your progress. You're looking pretty fit, man."

Finn just stared at the monitor for a moment. Given, the lighting wasn't all that good, but how on earth would Beck think he was looking *fit*? He inspected his own miniature image on the screen. Okay, yes, the shadows of the badly lit battle station worked in his favor here. With some fantasy, you could probably make out definition that Finn knew very well wasn't there in reality. Perhaps, Beck was just being polite.

"Uh, thanks." he said, before quickly adding "... bro." for the effect.

He felt a rush of excitement. Perhaps he would be really able to pull this off!

With the cams still on, he charged into the next pack of enemies, and watched Beck lean back into his gaming chair, giving Finn a good view of his own somewhat toned chest under his t-shirt.

"So, you got a girlfriend, Finn? Or are you more of a player?"

Fuck, more questions. His first impulse was to lie again, but no! If he wanted to have a shot with the other guy, he *had* to be honest here. He swallowed hard and answered with his eyes still lingering on Beck, trying to read his body language.

"N-no girlfriend. I'm... uh... not really into chicks."

That came out a lot less confident than he hoped. There was no sign of animosity in Beck, and even though thinking was somehow getting harder, rationally, Finn knew it was a good opportunity to ask him the same, exposing Becks own orientation. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, so he chickened out and tried to change the subject.

"Anyway, did I tell you about this thing that happened at work the other day? I totally saved our asses by-"

He stopped again, suddenly remembering that he's supposed to play dumb.

"Uh, I mean, I dunno, it was pretty boring office stuff. Who cares about that shit, right?"

At least the lingo came a lot more naturally by now, and sometimes, Finn had to remind himself that it was a role he was playing. It was, right?

Beck raised an eyebrow, looking curious.

"Office stuff? Didn't know you worked in an office, Finn. Thought you were more of a hands-on kind of guy."

Shit! what a slip-up.

"Uh... yeah, uh... I actually am. I'm..."

Fuck, thinking was *hard*. He had to come up with something here, but his mind drew a blank until he looked back at the screen.

"... a soldier. Yeah, I'm in the army."

"Wait, you're a soldier? For real?"

Beck sounded impressed but Finn's heart was racing as he realized what he just said. But he couldn't back down now.

"Uh, yeah, that's right," he replied, trying to sound casual. "Been in the army for a couple years now."

Beck looked impressed. "No shit? That's awesome, man! But what were you doing in an office then?"

Shit, lying was *hard*. Now he had to come up with another one, and fast.

"I... uhm... Oh, right. I was actually applying for a new job, at a private security firm. Y'know, with all the political bullshit goin' on, a lot of us are lookin' to get out and find somethin' else."

That was believable. A lot of people didn't want to stay in the army with a president like that. Heck, that's why *he* was looking for another job, right?

Wait, but wasn't that part of the lie? Finn's confusion grew and he barely registered Beck's answer:

"Yeah, I hear ya."

Finn scratched his head, trying to clear his mind. Thinking had never been his strong point - or has it? However, he was quickly distracted again by a weird feeling. As he had raised his arm, his shirt felt... tight. Constricting even. Hardly believing what he felt, he looked down at his own body and felt his solid pecs through his t-shirt. No, they weren't just solid. They were *large*. Large enough to stretch the fabric of his clothing and to limit his movements. Suddenly, he was aware of his other muscles, too. His arms were far bigger than they should be. Or was that right? Wasn't that why he went to the gym every day?

"Damn Finn, I never realized how built you are." Beck’s voice interrupted his slow train of thoughts and Finn could see Beck subconsciously licking his lips at the sight.

Something was wrong here, somehow.

"I... uh... I need to piss." he declared, the crude language coming all natural now.

He almost forgot to take off his headset and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing his face with water. The man who was staring back at him from the mirror was... not him. There was a certain similarity, of course, but *this* Finn was looking all different. He stripped down to his underwear to see better and was greeted by a much more massive body than before: a six-pack, bulging biceps, pecs, and all. His hair was also shorter than it used to be, and his features overall looked more rugged and less nerdy. He was a whole new, hot and handsome version of his former self. Even his face had squared up, and his jawline was much stronger. And his underwear... It looked positively *stuffed*, like he had pushed a sock in there. But he knew that wasn't the case. No, this was *his* package, the outline of his own cock pressing against the fabric, and it was a lot more than he remembered.

Finn stared at his reflection, and the reflection stared back. Something was wrong, but the fog around his brain was only getting denser.

Right, that was it. His big fingers brushed against his stubbly beard. He didn't shave, that's what was wrong here. Without a second thought, he grabbed the razor and started working on his upper lip, his chin and even his chest, until he was presentable again. It was only a few swipes, and once he was finished, he was satisfied with his work. Better.

He grabbed his clothes from the ground and didn't realize they, too, had changed into a pair of large olive cargo shorts and a white tank top.

"Yo, I'm back. Did I miss any action?"

He grinned for the camera and Beck shook his head.

"Cool!"

He readjusted his crotch and got back to playing, occasionally exchanging a joke with Beck. The game was getting really fun. Finn was blasting through enemy ranks without any consideration for strategy anymore. He was a simple guy now, and simple guys didn't need that kind of thing.

After an especially hard boss fight, he yanked his fist up in the air in triumph.

"Hell yeah! Did you see that?"

Beck laughed. "Yeah, I did, Finn. You were a beast out there."

Beck's praise gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

"Thanks man. One sec."

Without a second thought he pulled off his headset, followed by his tank top, leaving him bare-chested in front of his PC.

"Better. It's getting hot in here."

"Wow, you can say that... Holy shit!"

Beck’s eyes looked like they are about to pop out of his head. "You been hidin' that bod all this time? Damn, you look amazing!" The lust in his voice is clearly audible by now.

"Thanks, man. Just thought I'd get comfortable, y'know?" Finn grinned and ran a hand over his chiseled chest, feeling powerful and sexy. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Right, wanted to ask ya, since we're bein' honest and all... you got a girl? Or maybe you're into dudes like me?" He didn't get why he couldn't have asked that earlier, it really wasn't that hard, was it? Heh, hard.

Beck's cheeks flush slightly but he grins. "Yeah, I swing for the other team too, Finn. Never found a chick who could handle all this."

He gestured to his own, rather toned body, which wasn't quite as impressive as the one Finn was sporting now, bringing Finn to smirk in acknowledgement.

"Well, if you wanna get more comfortable too, feel free to lose the shirt, man. Unless you're scared to show me up."

Beck chuckled, reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Scared? Please, I'll put your buff ass to shame!"

The two of them continue to play, now with their shirts off, and their banter becomes increasingly flirty. Finn was enjoying the attention, and it was obvious that Beck was enjoying the view as well. However, after two more missions, Beck noticed a sudden drop in his teammate’s performance.

"Dude, what's up? You're playin' like shit all of a sudden." he teased, while his eyes remained glued to the difficult situation.

However, after hearing the grunted answer from Finn, he immediately looked up to the video stream again.

"It's... hard to play with one hand, y'know?"

Beck's mouth fell open as he saw Finn, grinning, with one hand still on the controller and the other tightly wrapped around the massive hard cock he had fished out of his underwear and was stroking slowly, all while maintaining eye contact with Beck.

"Woah, dude. You're... You're jackin' off right now? While we're gaming?"

Finn just grinned broader before his hazy mind produced an idea. Instead of the controller, he took his phone in his hand and typed a bit, all while slowly continuing to work his cock. Beck didn't have to wait long for the mystery to resolve itself, though, as his own phone buzzed.

"That's my address," Finn growled, his voice deep and commanding. "Get your fine ass over here and I'll show you what this soldier can really do."

"I... I'll be there in 10 minutes." Beck promises, his own voice coarse with arousal.

The last thing he saw before his webcam switched off was a lewd grin on Finn's new face.

Hey, sorry for the long silence! I've had some stressful time at work, but now I'm back writing!

[wandaslittlebird]

It Felt Like Coming Home

WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After being strong for so long, the veil starts to slip.

CW: Dissociation, Crying, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Gang, I don't know how long this slow burn is gonna last. I might have to adjust to a medium paced burn, cause I apparently don't know how to write a blossoming relationship in a compelling way. For that reason, this one is kinda short.

Chapter 3 of A Room of Your Own

———————————————————

The next morning you found yourself awake earlier than usual. Again. You had a habit of not sleeping well when adjusting to new environments. So you once again made your way to the kitchen before sunrise, where you once again found Wanda leaned up against the counter in the same silk robe from yesterday.

She smiled over her coffee mug when she saw you. “Good morning! Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

You nodded, taking a seat on a stool at the island. 

“Same as yesterday? With my creamer?” 

“Yes please,” you yawned. 

She slid the mug across the island and leaned forward against the counter. “Did you sleep okay?”

You took a sip of coffee and nodded. You hadn’t really slept okay, but you didn’t have any desire to share that with Wanda. She was clearly trying very hard to make you comfortable. She wasn’t buying it. There was clearly something under the surface that didn’t escape her notice. She let the silence sit for a long moment, hoping you would say something. There was a warm glimmer in her green eyes urging you to speak up. You looked down into your mug, idly tapping the mug with your pointer finger. 

Realizing you were going to need more prompting, Wanda spoke again. “How are you feeling? About everything.”

You shrugged, not looking back up at her. You felt surprisingly fine, aside from not sleeping much. But there was another feeling too. One you couldn’t quite describe. It felt like you were stuck in a perpetual hypnopompic state, trapped in the liminal space between being asleep and awake. You were probably just tired. “I’m alright. Just tired, I think. I always have a bit of trouble sleeping in new places.”

Wanda nodded, not entirely satisfied with your answer, but unwilling to press you any further. 

You both turned your head as a very tired looking Natasha came through the doorway. Even with bedhead and tired eyes, she was beautiful. And the smile that spread across Wanda's face as her wife approached was breathtaking. They were picturesque: a type of beauty you could see even through your grief. You had a good feeling about them. Naive as it may be, you were compelled to trust them.

“Morning Y/N,” she yawned, wrapping her arm around Wanda’s waist. “I trust Wanda is taking care of you?” 

You nodded and smiled at them both. “She is.”

“Mmm, she always does,” she hummed, kissing her wife’s cheek. Natasha poured herself a cup of coffee, setting up next to you on the island. She slid you a pen and a pad of paper. “Wands and I are gonna go to the store in a bit. If you’re up for it, you can write down a list of the things you want. Favorite foods, snacks, school supplies, whatever you want.”

You cautiously took the pen. “Oh you all don’t have to go shopping for me or anything just because I’m staying here.”

Natasha leaned against the island, bracing her elbows against the marble. “What if I want to?” She asked in a low, almost testing tone before straightening back up. “It’s really no problem. We’re going to the store anyway. No reason to have you make a separate trip.”

You smiled. You really did hate the grocery store, so you weren’t going to argue. “Careful,” you said lightheartedly. “I might get used to you spoiling me. Then you’ll really have to kick me out.”

Wanda chuckled. She loved seeing this witty, playful side of you peak out beneath your shy, meek exterior. Natasha seemed to bring it out of you. Natasha seemed to bring it out of a lot of people. You couldn’t see the mischievous smirk that spread across her face. “Oh don’t worry. By the time Nat and I let you go you’ll be so high maintenance you won’t settle for anything less. I think you’re due for a good spoiling.” 

A faint blush rose to your cheeks as you finished your list and slid it back to Natasha. “Five items. Woah. I tell you what Wanda, this kid really pushes the limits,” Natasha teased, setting the pen and paper back down in front of you. “Make it ten and I’ll promise to reign in Wanda when it comes to spoiling.” She gives you a wink as you quickly scribble down a few more things. 

************

After a quick trip upstairs to get dressed and ready, they both headed off to the store, leaving you alone to explore the house. The house wasn’t necessarily a “mansion”, per se, but it was certainly bigger than any house you’d ever lived in. Every room had its own special charm. You carefully perused all the repurposed bedrooms and storage spaces you came across, thoroughly exploring all of your surroundings.

Your favorite room, though, was Wanda’s office. It appeared to be a repurposed bedroom on the top floor with a massive window lining the wall and a huge L-shaped desk. It was cluttered, but in a way that made it look more lived-in than messy. Best of all, there was a small indentation in the wall where you guessed there used to be a closet that Wanda had fashioned into a reading nook. The nook sat, pristine and unused, but you could see yourself curling up there for hours. Maybe Wanda would let you sit here and read while she worked. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t even hear the front door click open as Wanda and Natasha returned from the store. 

“Y/N? We’re back!” You heard Natasha call from the foyer. You quickly left the office, closing the door as if you were scared they would catch you. You weren’t sure why the idea made you so nervous. They made it clear you were free to explore. You just naturally felt like an intruder, despite being a welcome guest.

“And we have a surprise for you!” Wanda sang as you came down the steps. 

She sat down a number of paper bags before pulling a mossy green blanket from one of them and handing you the silky soft material. You smiled and took it from her, rubbing the soft material against your cheek. 

“I know we’re still getting to know each other, but I noticed yesterday how much you love soft material and I thought you might like a new blanket for your new bed,” she explained, swaying nervously on her feet. She was worried you weren’t going to like it. 

You hummed contently, unwrapping the blanket and throwing it over your shoulders. It was so incredibly soft and it was big enough to cover your whole bed. Much more suitable than the throw blankets you’d brought with you. “Thank you so much. It’s so nice and soft.”

“And we got some popcorn and ice cream because we were thinking about having a little movie night,” Natasha added. “What do you think? We could gather up all the softest blankets and build you a little nest.”

You stood still, shocked by the suggestion. You thought in staying with them, you’d just be a roommate, coming and going with a few scattered interactions. But this wasn’t just a passing interaction like morning coffee was. They were proposing that you spend the evening together. They wanted to hang out with you.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Wanda blurted out after a long moment of silence. “You’ve had a rough couple of days. If it’s more beneficial to just take some time to yourself, hang out in your room, that’s absolutely fine. It’s just a suggestion. If you wanted company.” 

“A movie sounds nice,” you said quietly, pulling the blanket tight over your shoulders. 

Wanda visibly relaxed and smiled softly. “Then I’ll put these groceries away while you two find some blankets.”

“I found one!” Natasha shouted playfully, picking up your blanket wrapped form and carrying you to the corner of the couch where she gently set you down. “You stay here and get comfortable. I’ll go round up some more soft things.”

Both women returned a few minutes later, Wanda with a big bowl of buttery popcorn, and Natasha with a random amalgamation of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that she promptly dropped directly on top of you, burying you in the heap. 

“Natalia Alinovna Romanoff!” Wanda shouted disapprovingly, setting down the popcorn bowl and rushing to dig you out. You emerged with a giddy, content smile, snuggled up with a fuzzy body pillow. “She could’ve suffocated.”

Natasha jokingly rolled her eyes, which earned her a playful slap on the bicep from Wanda. She couldn’t possibly stay mad at Natasha after watching you happily wiggle under the comforting weight of the soft blankets. You twisted and flopped around like a puppy walking in circles and scratching its pillow so it could lay in its bed just right. The women smiled and giggled affectionately. 

After a few minutes, you finally settled, surrounded in a nest of blankets. 

“Do you have something in particular you’d like to watch?” Wanda asked, grabbing the remote and settling in next to Natasha on one end of the large couch. 

You shrugged but they couldn’t see it under all the blankets. “I don’t know. Maybe Robin Hood or The Aristocats. Something lighthearted and old.”

Wanda clicked the remote, waving her arm in different directions to try to get the TV to respond. After a moment, Natasha took the remote and easily found an old movie on Disney +. Wanda sneered and scrunched up her face. Natasha kissed her nose. 

The movie played in the background, but you spent more time paying attention to the women curled up on the end of the couch. They weren’t “cuddling”, per se, but their bodies weren’t pressed tightly together with their legs nearly intertwined. They both looked so at peace with each other. You yearned for that feeling. 

“You wanna join us?” Natasha asked almost playfully when she caught you staring. 

Wanda, who was closer to you, opened her arm and beckoned you over. 

You paused for a moment before emerging from your blanket nest, crawling up and laying hesitantly beside her. You rested your head in the crook of her arm, but kept your hands curled up against your own chest. 

“Well hang on now, I want some cuddles too. Get over here,” Natasha said with a mischievous smile before pulling you in between them. You giggled as you were gently pulled over Wanda plopped into a small spot on the couch in between them. You nearly head butted Natasha in the process. Wanda pulled your new blanket from the heap and tucked it around the three of you. Natasha wrapped her arm around you and smiled. “Much better.”

You settled into Natasha's chest with your back pressed up against Wanda while she ran her hand gently up and down your spine. You sighed, content in their cocoon of warmth. You felt so supported and loved, affectionately squished between the two women. 

“Are you alright, honey? You're shaking,” Natasha asked, looking down at you with a hint of concern. You furrowed your brow in confusion. You weren’t shaking. But as you started to pay more attention to your body, you noticed she was right. There was a small, almost imperceivable tremble in your muscles. Almost imperceivable unless you happen to be laying on top of someone, of course. 

“And your muscles are so tight. Like you're constricting your entire body,” Wanda added, sitting up to look at your face. “If this is making you uncomfortable we don’t have to…”

“No,” you interrupted. “No it’s not that. It’s just…” You were suddenly aware of your body in a way you hadn’t been in quite some time. It felt like returning to a home you didn’t remember leaving. It was like when you’re going somewhere and you get to your destination, and you can’t remember the drive. You were just… home.

Before you even recognized it, the shield you had unintentionally built started to crumble. Tears fell from your eyes, wetting Natasha’s shirt. “Oh poor baby, you must be exhausted, living with your body so… activated all the time,” Wanda cooed sympathetically.

Neither of them were surprised. In fact, both women acted as if they had anticipated this. Natasha pulled you closer, cradling your head under her chin and gently rocking you. “It’s okay. You're safe now, baby. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you. We’re gonna protect you.”

Their words only made you cry harder, but in a freeing, cathartic way. Wanda rubbed the back of your head gently, leaning over to say “Let it out. We’ve got you, angel. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Their words seeped into your bones, giving you permission to crumble as you sobbed into Natasha’s chest. They both continue to soothe you, rubbing your back and stroking your hair. Neither of them chided or rushed you, giving you time to adjust. Wanda brought you some water. Natasha helped you sit up as she pressed the cool glass to your lips. 

As your sobs faded to sniffles and your eyes started to droop, Natasha whispered “It’s alright. You can fall asleep here. We’ll get you to bed.” You drifted off, finally relaxed and at peace.

[bee-wg]

Year 4:

Beep Beep Beep Beep

“Oh my god, uncle! You’re gonna burn the house down!” Theo yelled.

“David, What happened? Is your hand bleeding?” Mom screamed

“Ahahaha, it’s nothing Chloe, don’t worry about it. I was just trying to make everyone a surprise breakfast,” Dad said.

“It’s nothing? There’s fire on the stove!” Mom said frantically.

“I got the fire extinguisher, don’t worry. Just a little mishap,” Dad said, trying to cheer them up.

“Uncle, you’re bleeding all over the fire extinguisher! We need to get him to the hospital,” Theo said.

“Hahaha, I guess I am a little clumsy,” Dad said.

Beep Beep Beep

“Someone please turn off the fire alarm, it’s stressing me out,” Mom asked

“What’s happening?” I asked, half asleep in my Pajamas.

Sometimes life surprises you, one moment, you were having a sweet dream. Then, you’re driving your bleeding father to the hospital in Pajamas. The new SUV does feel nice to drive, at least.

“I’m fine, guys. I think it must be the sugar. If I would’ve put more in it, this wouldn’t have happened,” Dad said.

“David, I love you, but don’t you EVER pull stupid stunts like that again,” Mom said, leaning on Dad’s shoulder.

Apparently, Dad wanted to surprise us with waffles for breakfast and thank Mom for all the delicious food she made. He was also hungry for a snack, so he broke Mom's one rule: Don’t mess with her kitchen.

The doctor said he could remove the cast in two months, about the time Theo and I graduate. He already got an internship in a restaurant, bringing home some fancy leftovers. 

Mom has not let off her sight from Dad since we got back. She gave him a firm warning and pinched his cheek. Now Dad gets ice cream and meals delivered to his mouth without lifting a finger.

I wish someone would do that for me. Imagine not having to leave the bed and constantly having sweets in your mouth. That would be a dream.

My thoughts disturb me sometimes. 

Since winning the competition, I have accepted that I will never be muscular again. The original plan was to savour everything I could for a year, then go on a diet. Mom and Theo have slowed down with the food so that I won’t eat until my stomach is about to burst, but they won’t refuse if I ask for something.

Now I am close to 500 pounds with my stomach always growling for more. I guess it’s just another fat ass behaviour I would have to accept.

Since losing weight is out of the question, I have figured out a way to keep my core muscle fit enough to support the enormous belly in front of me. It’s simple, I stick an 8-inch dildo from Seven’s house to my chair, and I would sit on it when I’m playing video games or watching a movie. When the itch gets too much, I can use my core muscles to lift myself up and down. This way, I get to work out and get off. It's not good for the chair, but who cares? It’s reinforced.

***

It was a regular lunchtime when Brad broke into my house again. Usually, he would greet my parents and head straight upstairs to perform witchcraft for all I care, but today, his footsteps are leading to my door.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Brad is the kind of asshole that does not knock. I still have the dildo in me!

I panicked and pulled up my pants before getting off the dildo.

He came in right as I flopped my belly down to cover the fact that my pants were not fully pulled up.

“Sup,” I said.

“Sup, Jay,” he reached out his fist for a bump.

“So, you know our last season of football in college just ended,” he said. 

Brad walked to my left to sit on my bed.

I rotate my seat to face him so he doesn’t see my ass hanging out in the back.

“Oh, fuck!” I yelped.

Fuck, the dildo twisted in the movement, now poking my prostate. 

“You okay, dude?” Brad asked.

“Of course, continue,” I said with the best smile I could muster.

“The guys are celebrating, so it’s like the last party for the team, and I was wondering if,”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll go,” I said quickly.

“Oh, that’s it? You usually don't like to go out or like- move at all,” he said, then stood up.

His sudden movement startled me, and the dildo jerked deeper.

“Are you sure you’re okay, dude?” Brad said, walking closer.

“I’m all good bruh, don’t worry,” I said.

I can feel my hole tensing, almost swallowing the dildo whole.

“I just don’t want you to be angry at me for fucking your cousin. If you want me to stop, I will,” he said.

“You what the who?” I said, baffled.

“I’m fucking,”

“Ew no, don’t tell me. I’m fine as long as you never mention doing that with my cousin ever again,” I said.

He let out a breath.

“Well, that’s something out of my chest. I’m going up now. I’ll come here and pick you up tomorrow night,” Brad said, rushing out the door.

I let out a breath too.

The locks will never be open after this traumatic experience.

My ass is still tingling, so I quickly fuck myself with the dildo to get over with it.

***

The drive to the house has been excruciatingly slow because Brad is a cautious driver. It leaves a lot of time to think without food distracting me.

I am now extremely aware of the bright yellow Pikachu face stretching across my belly. There aren't many clothes that fit me, and it’s been a while since I went out, so I didn’t bother buying new shirts. 

I haven’t seen them in a while. They’re gonna think I’m fucking lame.

“Dude, snap out of it. Everyone there misses you. I didn’t invite the assholes,” Brad said.

“…I guess.” 

“You’re doing the arm-scratching thing again, haven’t seen you doing that in a while,” Brad said.

“I’m going to put on some music, and you’re going to stop thinking, okay?” Brad added.

“Yeah, okay,” I replied.

When we opened the door, Marcus the quarterback greeted us, and half my worries melted away. 

He is about 300 pounds, which feels skinny to me now. At least I’m not the only fat one.

Now that I look into it, not everyone has defined abs. I don’t know why I expected everyone to be runway models. Even Brad is softer around the middle.

“Dude! Where have you been?” Aiden yelled.

“Oh shit, you look humongous, my guy,” Braxton said.

We quickly got back into the groove we had two summers ago.

Brad booted up a party game, and we tried our hardest to destroy each other.

We also caught up on what each of us was up to this past year, or what to do with our future. Aiden wants to marry his girlfriend, Marcus wants to join his boyfriend’s band, and Brad wants to be a freelance artist alongside his side job.

When the night came, They ordered some Chicken wings and pizzas.

“Fuck yeah, trash food! No more diet from Coach,” Aiden said, taking away half the pizza.

“By the way, I bought extra pizzas to see how much we can push ourselves,” Brad said.

I have a bad feeling about this.

“Of course, if it’s too much, we can always count on Jay,” Brad laughed.

There are six of us, with twenty large pizzas. I am screwed.

“It’s just some pizzas, no big deal. I can beat Jay easily,” Braxton, the most muscular guy in the group, said.

“Hahaha, don’t underestimate him, my dude,” Brad replied.

Except for Marcus, all of them are wimps. They started groaning and bitching after a few slices.

“Damn it, how do you make it look so easy,” Aiden asked.

“There’s a technique to it, dumb ass. I trained for this shit,” I answered.

Aiden then passed out from the food coma after six slices. 

Two more people soon followed after him.

Brad is on his way to his second pizza. His stomach has never looked this bloated before. Marcus is trying his hardest on his fourth one, but the guy is barely hanging on.

When the seventh pizza box emptied, I was stuffed beyond belief.

The guys woke up and refocused their energy on me to finish the rest.

“There’s only two left, people. Finish it,” I said, pointing at the boxes.

“We’re not on your level, Jay. You’re like, a pro at this,” Aiden said.

“Yeah, man. Only you can do it,” Brad said.

Braxton handed the pizza box over, and they started feeding me slice by slice.

“Come on Jay, you’re better than this,” Aiden said and rubbed my belly.

These people have no personal boundaries like always.

I am beyond capacity after the eighth one.

This was most likely a fucked up plan by Brad to show they don’t care I’m a fat ass. I still believed they wouldn’t like me because of my size until a few hours ago, now it seems ridiculous to reject all those party invites last year. Well, maybe I was up to something because now they’re trying to suffocate me with pizzas.

When Aiden stuffed the last of the slices in my mouth, everyone cheered.

Tonight was absurd, but I got my friends back. When some guys were not happy for a fat guy to be on the team, they stopped hanging out with me. I thought I was a lost cause.

“Dude, you better come back next time,” Aiden said.

“I’m gonna beat you next time, Jay. Watch it,” Braxton said.

“Awesome to have you back, man,” Marcus said.

It reminds me of that summer when we hung out by the river every time the fast food party room got too suffocating, when my worries were carried away by the water. 

“Thanks, Brad. For doing this,” I told him once we got in the car.

“No problem, I’m always here,” he answered.

I must have gotten too sentimental, or pizzas are clogging my brain, but I opened my Instagram and tabbed Recent in the search bar.

It seems like he made some new decorations for the coffee shop. 

I scrolled down to see the picture of the beach.

“Stop scrolling like a creep, Jay. Just call him,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s still waiting for that coffee,” Brad said.

“You still talk to Ave?” I asked.

“This is fucking depressing to watch, Jay. You guys were best friends,” he said.

“You know, I was kinda jealous of you guys back in the day. I was the skinny guy who got bullied on the side, and you were the guy on the team who still takes the time of day to befriend me. I only had you, and you also had him. It’s frustrating seeing you throw that away,” he finishes.

He doesn’t understand though. I’m a hypocrite who ignored Ave when he got fat. I don’t deserve his attention.

***

It’s been two weeks since our graduations and Dad getting his cast off. Mom has been working full-time, trying to figure out what we could do as a family to celebrate. It’s proven to be difficult when there are two 500-pound whales in said family. We can’t fit into any amusement park ride, and we’ll sink into the bottom of the ocean if we go to the beach. So, the rational thing to do is a picnic. At least that’s what I suggested. But Mom insisted a camping trip was the best family bonding option. For two whales.

It’s fine, I thought to myself. We have done this plenty of times.

After stuffing Dad in the front seat and the emergency food boxes in the back of the SUV. Mom explained the bags of medicines she bought like a flight attendant with the safety instructions. She must have been traumatized by Dad’s injury. He’s not allowed to do anything remotely dangerous, like moving his hand to eat. Hence, the army medical packs.

Mom went through the bottles of fox spray, bear spray, mosquito spray, sun spray and pepper spray, and then we finally got moving.

On our way there, we had some intermissions at the gas stations to replenish snacks. Theo whined it, but this was all his fault anyway.  If only he hadn’t grown our monstrous appetite, and forced musical soundtracks to be played in the car for hours, I might have skipped over a few snack breaks.

Recently, my weight has stabilized at about 520 pounds. Thank God my exercises on the chair worked; otherwise, I’m going to blow up on my way to the camp. 

“Guys, Brad said safe trip, and he’ll miss us,” Theo said.

“He probably only meant you,” I replied.

Theo has been giggling for an hour straight, looking at his phone.

“I’ll miss you, Bradley. The signal’s breaking off. See you soon!” Theo said.

We set up the camp in a few hours. By the time we were done, the sun had already set, giving the mountain an orange hue. 

Today we’re going up to Sunshore Lake. It’s going to be a steep walk, but I’m ready to flex my athletic prowess.

It was not a good sign that I was already sweating before arriving at the entrance.

“David, this is a bit steeper than I remembered. Do you guys want to stay down here?” Mom said.

“Nah. Jay and I will do it. This is a piece of cake compared to what we used to do. Right, son?” Despite not having to walk for more than a year, Dad remains confident.

“Hell yeah, Dad. Let’s show them what we're made of!” I said.

I give up. We’re a third of the way through, and I can feel my belly weighing me down.

“Come on -huff, son, you -huff-can do it!” Dad said, looking worse than I do.

Theo looked at us and chuckled.

“Guys, I’m so sorry! I should’ve known this was too much,” Mom said, panicking.

“It’s- it’s all good, Chloe. Remember you married the- huff- Star athlete back in college?” Dad smiled at Mom and gave her a thumbs up.

“Need a hand?” Theo asked me.

“Isn’t that too much?” I motioned to our luggage on his back.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he swung my arm behind his shoulder and carried me.

He’s been doing that more often than not when I couldn’t get up. Probably the reason he got all those muscles under his shirt. What happened to the noodle arm ginger?

“Thanks, man. I guess I don’t have to roll back down there,” I said.

When we were halfway through, Dad told us solemnly.

“I- I don’t think I can make it.”

“Noooo, David I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for things to end this way,” Mom said with tears in her eyes.

“I love you guys. You’re the light of my life. I am honour to be a husband, a father, and a-” 

“Dad, you’re not dying. We’re almost there,” I said.

“Is it too late to call an emergency helicopter?” Mom asked.

“David, I love you, but I really don’t want to touch you right now. Can you pull through yourself, baby?” Mom said, looking at the sweat ball that was Dad.

Theo burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join too, even if I was in an equally dire situation.

When we got to the top, everyone was exhausted. 

We cleaned ourselves up with towels, and Mom went to check the Kayaking information. 

Dad and I were too big for it, as expected, so we went to find a good spot for fishing.

“I’m so excited. I have never kayaked before!” Theo said, looking as refreshed as ever.

Before we set up our fishing gear, they eagerly ditched us.

The Lake looked as calm as ever. It's boring with little going on.

Mom and Theo are probably in the middle of the lake now.

Staring at the stale water, I realized Dad was not perfect. He’s a little stubborn, clueless sometimes, but that’s what I like about him. I don’t know if anyone would find my quirks appealing. if Ave would.

I’m just a Lazy food addict who basically lives in his mom’s basement, so maybe not.

“Jay?” Dad said.

“What’s up, Dad?” I asked.

“You think too much, buddy.”

“You were always an overthinker since you were a toddler,” Dad said.

“I remember you told me you wanted to play football instead of hockey because hockey will give you frostbites, and freeze you into those Neanderthals from the museums,” Dad said.

“Oh Gosh,” he still remembers.

“You know what?” Dad said, then quickly took off his shirt.

“Let’s go for a swim,” He said with a smile.

“But the fishing,” I said.

“Don’t worry about the fish,” He said, walking back and charging towards the water.

The cannonball created a massive splash, making me completely wet.

“Mother of God, it’s freezing! Did you see that, Jay?” He said with a laugh.

“Yeah, that was pretty cool,” I chuckled. It’s not every day you see a chunky beast jumping into the water.

“Come on, Jay, take it off and jump!” he said.

I have not taken off my shirt in public since middle school, when I started to notice my flaws. Even in the locker room, I would find a bathroom stall to change.

“Don’t overthink it, Jay! Trust me!” Dad said.

Don’t overthink, I thought.

I took off my shirt and back off. When I pick up the pace, my entire body is wobbling.

With all the strength I have, I jumped.

Shit, this was a bad idea.

The cold water hit me.

First, nothing but white bubbles clouded me. Then, schools of fish surrounding me appeared in my vision, hurrying away from the meteor strike. I moved my legs slightly apart on the lakebed, so I don’t step on the tiny crabs while they take refuge in the kelp forest.

“Holy Fuck, it’s freezing!” I said as I pulled my head out of the water.

“Hahahaha, watch your mouth, Jay. You don’t want to summon your mother here,” Dad said.

The view down there was breathtaking; it was what I expected, but not. The fish looked different from a simple change of scenery. I wouldn't have known if I had never jumped.

“I’m proud of you, Jay. That was a huge splash. Aren’t the views here amazing?” he said.

“Thank you, Dad. I wouldn’t have done it without you,” I said.

“You did it all by yourself, kid,” he replied.

We kept exploring the lake until our stomachs growled in protest.

After setting up the fire, we roasted some fish in the bucket and made S’mores from caramel marshmallows. 

Theo and Mom joined and we talked about the stories we had at school or some embarrassing stories of me Dad has kept.

The next day, we packed up our stuff to leave. The mountain is beautiful and all, but Dad and I are starving for some real food.

On our way down, I realized that I had been the biggest enemy to myself. There are so many supportive people surrounding me when my self-doubt overshadows them.

The signal bars slowly appear one by one. I opened Avery’s profile picture.

If he rejects me, I’ll be embarrassed in front of a person I really care about.

I shouldn’t overthink.

There’s nothing more I can lose when I already lost his company.

So I texted.

“Hey, Ave. I know I’m late, but would you mind if I take you up on your offer for the coffee?”

“...” a text bubble appeared.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

[capquinn]

Disarm | Q. Hughes

summary: quinn is lost in a mood he can’t quite shake, but you’re determined to bring back his smile — one kiss at a time. pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: fluff, grumpy/sunshine word count: 1.1k ↪masterlist

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Quinn’s been drifting around the apartment all day, carrying an invisible weight that seems to have wrapped itself around his shoulders. He moves from room to room like a shadow, quiet and slow, casting this low hum of heaviness in his wake. It’s not the kind of mood with sharp edges; there’s no snapping, no outbursts. It’s just this unspoken gloom, dimming the usual warmth of your space.

You’ve been watching him, feeling a twinge of frustration mixed with that urge to help him shake it off. You know him so well — how he bottles things up, how rare it is for him to get lost in his own head like this, so deeply that even your usual go-to comforts don’t reach him. You’d tried everything to pull him back, from suggesting a walk in the fresh air to putting on his favourite movie. You’d even taken the time to make that one snack he devours on sight, the one that usually brings him to the kitchen in under five seconds flat. But today, he had only mumbled a quiet thanks, barely glancing up before returning to his brooding silence.

Now, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, his brow slightly furrowed. You stand there for a beat, taking him in from across the room, feeling the urge to do something to break through whatever storm is brewing in his mind. The familiar space feels oddly foreign under the weight of his mood, his silence filling it in a way that makes you want to step in, to tug him out of this fog even if it means trying something a little… different. 

You draw in a breath, your determination firming up as you cross the room, setting your mind on one last attempt to reach him, ready to try anything to bring back the warmth that’s always so natural between you.

You step right into his line of sight, tilting your head with a playful smile. “Quinny,” you drawl, stretching out the nickname just enough to catch his attention. His lips twitch, almost like he’s about to smile, but he quickly glances away.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters before you can even ask, his voice low, though there’s a trace of grumpiness he’s clearly still trying to shrug off.

“Oh, really?” You take a step closer, letting your hands settle on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You’ve barely said a word all day.” Your voice softens, teasing but gentle, hoping to coax something — anything — out of him.

When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head, searching his face, and ask, “how can I help?” Words tender, an open invitation, but he just gives a quiet shrug, his gaze still far off, his arms crossed as though he’s trying to hold onto whatever’s got him weighed down.

You can tell he’s not ready to talk, not yet willing to open up, but you’re not about to let him stay locked away in his own head. Not if you can help it.

You slide your hands up his chest, leaning in close until you’re on your toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. “What about this?” you ask, pulling back just enough to catch his eye. Still nothing — he’s holding firm, jaw set, though you can practically feel him fighting to keep up the wall he’s built around himself. “Any better?”

You don’t wait for an answer, leaning in to kiss his other cheek with just a bit more purpose this time. “Still nothing?” 

He’s working hard to stay grumpy, to hold onto whatever’s weighing on him, but you catch the faintest flicker in his eyes and the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth. You’re close.

“Oh, come on,” you murmur, tracing the line of his jaw with light kisses, feeling his skin warm under your touch. “You’re really gonna make me work for it?”

He inhales sharply, and you can tell he’s trying to resist, to keep his guard up, but his resolve is slipping little by little. And you’re determined, pressing kiss after kiss across his face — the bridge of his nose, the soft space just below his ear, the warm curve of his cheeks. Each one is light and lingering, sweet and relentless.

You’re close now, so close that your breath mingles with his, and his eyes finally meet yours. His expression has softened, his lips hovering at a not-quite-smile, just waiting to break free.

“If you don’t smile soon,” you whisper, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth, “I’m just gonna have to keep kissing every inch of your face.”

A small huff escapes him, and it’s only a matter of time before the frown softens and quiet amusement flickers in his eyes. His arms drop to his sides, shoulders easing as he gives in, the tension unwinding with each little kiss you press to his skin. After all, having you close, showering him with affection… it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Your lips brush just below his ear, and he breathes out a long, slow sigh, his eyes falling shut as he relaxes into you. Encouraged, you shift back to his jawline, letting your lips trace its sharp curve in gentle, spongy kisses, feeling his jaw slacken and his chest rise and fall against yours. You hover at the corner of his mouth, lingering there, savouring the way he’s finally melting under your touch, the edges of his guarded silence slipping away.

And then, a small grin pulls at his lips, a soft laugh tumbling out as his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him in surrender. 

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and affection as he tucks you against his chest. But the grumpiness is gone, the weight he’s carried all day dissolving into warmth that spreads through both of you.

“There it is,” you say with a triumphant smile, winding your arms around his neck, leaning in with a gentle nudge. “Knew you’d give in.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that fills the space around you as his hands settle at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s hardly any space between you.

“Guess I didn’t stand a chance,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he bends down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels as natural as breathing.

His hands splay warmly against your back, pulling you close like he never wants to let go. The kiss is gentle, steady, the kind that disarms the weight of the day, melting away every bit of tension between you until all that’s left is the soft warmth in the air, quiet breaths, and the steady rhythm of hearts.