#it’s cooking with flo bitches

[strawberryloveyyy]

Florence Pugh is the love of my life. Period. Someone please catch my breath, I’m too busy not breathing.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

I love her so much

[vunblr]

To Mend a Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Masturbation). Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Word Count: About 20k.

note: Yeah… it’s a long one. This has been sitting in my folder for a while, and I couldn’t figure out where to split it, so here we are. Please don’t hate me! 😅 If you enjoy it, I’d really appreciate it if you could share or leave a comment, it means so much.

After everything he’d been through -Hydra, Zemo, Thanos, Steve’s departure, and now therapy with Dr. Raynor- Bucky still couldn’t seem to find peace. The nightmares remained, the guilt festered, and every glance he got on the street reminded him of who he used to be, not who he was trying to become. Trusting people felt impossible, and his defenses were built like steel walls.

Sam, however, refused to let him slip further into isolation. Over the past few months, he’d watched him struggle silently, shrugging off every attempt to help him open up. But The Falcon wasn’t one to give up easily.

One evening, while they were returning from a brief mission on a plane, he finally brought it up again.

“You ever thought about alternative therapy?” he asked casually, pressing a cooling bag over his shoulder.

Bucky didn’t even look up from where he was unlacing his boots. “What, like yoga?” His voice was flat and unimpressed. “I don’t bend that way.”

“No, not yoga.” Sam’s tone was patient like he was explaining something to a stubborn child. “It’s something some veterans are trying. Heard about it from a guy at the VA.”

“Right.” Bucky snorted. “Modern mumbo jumbo. What is it? Journaling? Crystals? Hugging trees?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called rent-a-mom.”

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Rent-a-what?”

“Rent-a-mom,” Sam repeated, biting back a grin at Bucky’s incredulous expression. “It’s this service where someone -usually a nice, older lady- comes to your place for a couple of hours a week. She cooks, chats, and keeps you company. Some guys use it to feel normal again, you know? A little comfort or emotional support, whatever you need, with no judgment.”

Bucky stared at him for a beat before deadpanning, “So you’re telling me to hire a prostitute.”

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is wrong with you man? No! That’s not what this is.”

“You sure? Because whatever I need, with no judgment sounds like you’re telling me to hire someone to-”

“Stop!” Sam cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “It’s not like that, okay? She works with vets all the time. You know, people like you who don’t trust anyone and think the world’s out to get them.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Sounds like a scam.”

“It’s not a scam. I know a guy who uses her services. He says it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded some weeks. And it’s not just him. A lot of vets partaking on the program swear by it.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath, something about “modern nonsense” and “people these days.”

Sam sighed, leaning forward. “Look, man, I’m not saying it’s gonna fix all your problems. But what’s the harm in trying? One session. Worst-case scenario, you don’t like it, and you never call her again.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t need some stranger poking around in my life.”

“She’s not gonna poke,” Sam insisted. “She’s just there to help. And let’s be real, you could use it. You’ve been holed up in that apartment for weeks. When’s the last time you had a real conversation with someone who wasn’t me or that Raynor bitch?”

Bucky didn’t answer, just tightened his jaw.

“Exactly,” Sam said, leaning back with a smirk. “Plus, you owe me for Redwing. That little stunt you pulled last week? Yeah, I’m still mad about that.”

“Cheap shot,” Bucky muttered, glaring at the floor.

“Call it whatever you want. You’re doing this.”

After a long, heavy pause, Bucky sighed. “Fine. One session. But if this is a waste of my time, I’m blaming you.”

Sam grinned, already pulling out his phone. “You’re gonna thank me when it works. Just wait.”

----

Bucky sat on the edge of his couch, glaring at his phone like it had personally wronged him. Sam had texted him the woman’s contact information a few hours ago, with an obnoxious winky face at the end. He couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be reassuring or not but either way, it made his skin crawl.

“Just one session,” he muttered, running his hand down his face. Sam’s words echoed in his head: “It’s not what you think, man. She’s just… good at what she does. People trust her.” Trust. Bucky scoffed. That wasn’t something he handed out easily anymore, but after the Redwing incident, Sam wasn’t going to let him live it down unless he followed through. Grimacing, he tapped out a message.

Hi. This is James Barnes. Sam Wilson gave me your contact information. He said you… help people. I’m interested in setting up a session. Let me know if you’re available.

He stared at the screen for a good minute before hitting send. The second the message left his phone, he regretted it.

What the hell am I doing?

His internal spiral was interrupted by a response. That was fast.

Hi, James! Thanks for reaching out. I’d be happy to help. How does Tuesday at 5 PM sound?

He frowned. No small talk? No questions? Just… straight to the point. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but he appreciated it.

Fine, he replied, then immediately felt like a jerk. Then he added a Thanks.

----

Thursday came too quickly. Bucky paced his apartment, tidying up out of sheer nervous energy. He wasn’t sure what to expect. What was this woman going to do? Make him tea? Lecture him on proper nutrition? Sam had called her a “mom-for-hire,” but the idea still sounded absurd.

At exactly 5 PM, there was a knock at the door. Bucky froze. For a split second, he considered pretending he wasn’t home. But he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door, noticing two things:

First, this Mom was not an older lady. Either Sam left out that critical detail, or she was some kind of evil witch who sucked the life force out of her victims to stay young.

Second, she was… nice to look at. He quickly chastised himself for the thought.

“Hi,” she said, in a warm but professional tone, like she’d done this a hundred times before. There was no hesitation in her posture, no uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and offered a small smile. “You must be James.”

“Bucky.” he corrected gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You’re not what I expected.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Let me guess. You were expecting someone older? Maybe with glasses and a knitting basket?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, not confirming but not denying either.

She lets out a soft laugh. “I get that a lot.”

The silence stretched between them, and then he realized he was just standing there, blocking the doorway like an idiot. He stepped aside, muttering a “Come in.”

She entered the apartment, glancing around the living room as she set her bag down, taking in the stark, utilitarian setup. A couch, a small TV on a stand, and little else. The dining table was non-existent, replaced by a counter with two bar stools. “This is… cozy,” she said diplomatically, gesturing at the space.

Bucky’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “It works.”

She hummed in response, her gaze falling to the small stack of books on the coffee table. A couple of dog-eared crime novels sat next to a remote. There wasn’t much else to indicate anyone truly lived here. No photos, no clutter, just the bare essentials.

He folded his arms again, hovering near the door as if he wasn’t sure whether to close it or bolt. “Look, I don’t need the whole... whatever it is you do. Sam talked me into this, so don’t feel like you have to stick around for too long.”

She didn’t seem fazed by his awkward brusqueness. Instead, she just nodded and set the bag down on his counter. She began unpacking a few items, ingredients, it looked like.

“So,” she said, turning to him with an easy smile. “What’s on the agenda for today? You tell me what you need, and we’ll go from there.”

What he needed? Hell if he knew.

“Uh…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t… really know how this works.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “We can start small. How about I make us something warm to eat while we talk?”

Talk. Right. He could handle that. Probably. And the food didn’t sound half bad either.

“Sure,” he said, with a softer tone now. He hesitated before adding, “Thanks.”

She smiled at him again and reached into her bag, pulling out a neatly folded apron. Without hesitation, she slipped it over her summer dress, tying the strings behind her back. The casual way she moved threw him off; she already seemed at ease in his space, which was more than he could say for himself.

“Is there anything you don’t like to eat?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen.

Bucky blinked at her like she’d just asked him if he believed in unicorns. “Anything I don’t like?” His eyebrows lifted, clearly baffled by the concept.

“Yes,” she replied with a small laugh, looking back at him as if to say she was serious.

He gave a short huff, leaning against the counter, his lips twitching with faint amusement. “Doll, I grew up in the Depression. You ate what you got and licked the plate clean.”

She froze mid-step, her hands moving to her hips as she turned to face him fully. “Okay, first of all, you don’t ‘doll’ your mother,” she said, her tone firm but with a playful edge. “So let’s make it clear: that won’t be a thing between us.”

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly in mild surprise at her sudden, slightly commanding tone.

“And second,” she continued, crossing her arms as if daring him to argue, “we’re not in the Depression anymore. So, humor me and tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest hint of a smirk appearing as he quirked an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Not even close.

“Guess I’ll have to think about it,” he muttered with the faintest trace of amusement.

She rolled her eyes, tying the apron snugly around her waist. “Well, then tell me what you do like, so I can see if I can pull it off with what we’ve got.”

He hesitated, darting away his gaze as if the question required more thought than it should. Finally, he mumbled, “Potatoes?”

Her lips twitched with amusement. “Lucky for you, I brought some with me.” She nodded toward another bag she’d left near the door.

Bucky watched as she moved around his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into drawers. It was strange seeing someone else handle his things like they belonged there.

She moved to his fridge next, tugging it open, and froze. For a long moment, she just stared, her head tilting slightly. “Huh.”

Bucky frowned, leaning to the side to see what had caught her attention. “What?”

She stepped back, gesturing inside with a wooden spoon she’d plucked from the counter. “The two plums are fine, but that sad, dried-out lemon is holding on by a thread, and…” Her nose wrinkled as she peered at a container shoved in the back. “I don’t even want to guess what’s in that tupperware.”

He shifted as his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s probably still good.”

“Bucky.” She turned to him, one brow arched and her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re going to have to make a shopping list if these visits are going to continue. Unless you’re planning to survive off potatoes and mystery leftovers?”

His lips twitched again, but he didn’t say anything, just shrugged.

“I’ll take that as agreement,” she said, grabbing the potatoes she’d brought with her and setting them on the counter. “For now, I’ll work some magic with these and whatever’s actually edible in here.”

He smirked faintly, leaning against the counter as he watched her sort through his kitchen again with an air of efficiency like she’d done this a thousand times before.

At some point, she straightened up and caught his gaze. “You didn’t say anything yet,” she said, leaning a little on the counter. “but I assume you have questions about what I do?”

He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as if buying time. “Sam told me something… about cooking and talking,” he muttered hesitantly. Then he glanced away, subtly implying that he didn’t expect much beyond that.

She didn’t rush him, waiting patiently for him to finish. When he fell silent, she let out a soft chuckle and grabbed a cutting board from the counter. “I have a proper job, you know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “At a bookstore. This…” she continued, gesturing vaguely toward the room, “is just something I’ve been doing for a couple of years now. It started when a lady from the program came into the shop looking for books to read to her son before nap time.” She paused, her lips curving in a small, amused smile. “The thing is, this lady was, well… let’s just say she was quite old to have a little kid. She must have seen the look on my face because she told me about this initiative she was part of.”

Bucky tilted his head, curiosity tugging at his otherwise guarded expression. “And you signed up?”

“Eventually,” she admitted, peeling one of the potatoes with practiced ease. “I kept running into her, and she’d stop by the store to chat about how the reading sessions were going, how much her ‘kid’ enjoyed them.” She made air quotes with her fingers, smirking. “Turned out, her kid was a Vietnam vet. He was struggling with some things, and she was helping him feel more grounded.”

Bucky arched his brows.

“Exactly,” she said, laughing softly. “I thought it was strange at first, too, but the more I learned, the more I realized how much of a difference it can make for some people.” She paused, setting the peeler down and turning to fully face him, with a softer expression now. “There’s something about the kind of comfort a mother gives, something other roles just… don’t quite reach.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brow.

“You’ve probably seen it,” she continued, “Soldiers in their last moments, calling for their moms. Or when they’re delirious with fever or pain, their minds go back to a time when they felt safe, protected, and cared for. It’s not about the specific person, it’s the feeling. That deep-rooted need to know someone’s there for you, no matter what.”

His jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking back to her. She didn’t miss the shift in his expression, a flicker of recognition, a shadow of memory.

“I’m not saying I’m trying to be anyone’s mother,” she added quickly, offering him a gentle smile to lighten the mood. “But sometimes people just need a little bit of that energy in their life, you know? A chance to feel… safe.”

Bucky’s mouth pressed into a thin line, stiffening briefly before he exhaled, his relaxing his shoulders just a fraction. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of her words lingered in the air between them.

He had to admit it sounded... nice. Having someone to turn to when things got… when you couldn’t breathe. When the world felt too heavy and every corner of your mind was filled with noise you couldn’t escape. But just as that thought settled in, his defenses kicked in, sharp and automatic.

He scoffed, the sound coming out a little too rough, a little too biting. “And then what? You cuddle on the couch, singing a lullaby?”

Her hands stilled, and she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. There was no annoyance in her expression, no judgment. Just a calmness that made him feel even more off-balance.

“If that’s what you need,” she said simply, “then yes.”

For a moment, he was stunned into silence, caught off guard. There was no sarcasm, no condescension, just a sincerity that felt almost disarming.

His eyes darted away as he shifted his weight, the corners of his mouth twitched in an effort to form a response. But for once, words failed him, leaving only the quiet hum of the kitchen and the soft clatter of her returning to the potatoes.

“There are some info sheets and forms in the bag,” she said, nodding toward her tote. “If you want to read and complete them while I do this.” She gestured as she resumed working on the potatoes.

Bucky hesitated, flicking his gaze between her and the bag. “What’s the payment?” he asked gruffly, trying to keep his voice casual. “In case… in case I might be interested.”

She paused for a beat, then glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. “I don’t charge veterans,” she said simply.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Finally, he managed, “Sam didn’t… didn’t tell me that.”

“Well,” she said, setting the knife down for a moment and turning fully to face him, “to be fair, Sam told me a little about you.”

At the slight stiffness that crept into his expression, she quickly added, “Just… basic things.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m already working with someone who’s… retired now, and I wasn’t sure about having two ‘sons’ in the same department, so to speak.”

She hesitated, studying his face for a moment before continuing. “But when he told me who you were… I didn’t doubt it for a second. You’re a hero, you know?”

He seemed surprised by the statement, his brows knitting together as if trying to make sense of her words. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Finally, he grumbled, “Don’t know about that, but thanks.”

She smiled softly, “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. I’m just stating the obvious.” With that, she turned back to the cooking, leaving Bucky standing there, uncomfortably aware of the unexpected swell of gratitude threatening to creep past his defenses.

He then opened the tote bag and pulled out a neatly organized folder. Inside, there were several documents, each clipped together in its own section. He skimmed over the first page, a set of “basic rules” clearly outlined at the top.

His brow furrowed slightly as he read. Boundaries: He would only call her “Mama” or some other variant, never her name, an instruction that immediately made his stomach twist with both unease and an odd sense of reassurance. The point was clear: this wasn’t a friendship or anything else ambiguous. It was meant to define their dynamic firmly.

Further down, he saw a list of do’s and don’ts regarding acceptable forms of touching. The wording was straightforward but gentle, ensuring the rules were understood without feeling restrictive. A clause about privacy caught his attention: Everything discussed during their sessions would remain strictly confidential. Nothing said between them would be disclosed, ever.

He sighed and leaned against the counter, flipping to the next section. The forms included a series of questions: What would you expect from these sessions? What would you prefer not to happen? What are your favorite comforts? Least favorite?

The questions made him uncomfortable. What did he expect? Hell if he knew. What would he even put down for “favorite comforts”? He tapped the pen against the counter, unsure where to start.

When he finally glanced back at her, she was chopping the potatoes with practiced ease. “And what happens after I fill this out?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.

“Once the forms are completed and signed,” she said without turning around, “I’ll be in charge of the dynamic.” She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder with a small smile. “After all, Mama knows best.”

Her tone was light, teasing, but the words landed heavier than she might have realized. Bucky stared at the form again, feeling the faintest flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe trust. Maybe just exhaustion. Either way, the weight of his pen didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

“You don’t have to sign it right now,” she said, washing her hands and wiping them on a towel. Turning back to him, she added, "Maybe wait and see how this goes first?" then, she walked toward the living room and perched on the edge of the couch patting the spot next to her. “Sit. You can tell me about your week while the potatoes cook… if you want.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the couch like it might be a trap. Finally, he crossed the room, lowering himself onto the seat beside her. The couch dipped under his weight, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed a hand over his face. The silence hung between them, save for the faint sound of traffic through the window. After a moment, he started to bounce his knee.

She noticed the motion and glanced at him, her gaze drifting lower. That’s when it hit her, the long-sleeved henley and the glove on his hand. The room wasn’t exactly cold. In fact, with the oven going and the potatoes roasting, it was comfortably warm.

Her brows knitted together. “Bucky,” she started carefully, with a light tone, “you know by now that I knew who you were before I knocked on your door, right?”

He turned his head slightly, not quite meeting her eyes but acknowledging her words with a small grunt.

“So… don’t you want to change into something less... suffocating?” She gestured loosely at his shirt. “I mean, it’s hot in here.”

His knee stopped bouncing. He straightened slightly but didn’t respond right away. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked like he was weighing his next move.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. He didn’t sound angry, just… uncertain.

“It’s not fine,” she countered gently. “You’ll overheat sitting here like that. Besides, I thought we were working on this whole... trust thing since you know… the mom thing?”

Her words hung in the air, and for a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a deep breath, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, heading toward the hallway. He muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch, but the slight hunch of his shoulders told her he was uncomfortable. Still, he disappeared into the bedroom, and she heard the sound of a drawer opening.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was wearing a soft, dark gray T-shirt. He paused in the doorway, his eyes flicking to her briefly before he sat back down, this time leaning into the couch instead of perching on the edge.

“Better?” he asked, his tone dry but not harsh.

“Much better,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his shoulders seemed to relax just a fraction. The oven timer went off in the kitchen, breaking the moment, and she stood, giving him a reassuring pat on the knee as she passed by.

As she checked the food with her back turned to him, she spoke casually, “Sam said you’ve been having a rough time lately.”

Bucky frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Sam talks too much.”

Her lips quirked in a small smile, though she didn’t turn around. “He’s worried about you.”

“He doesn’t need to be,” Bucky muttered.

“Maybe not. But he is. And from what I can tell, he’s the kind of person who acts on that worry.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not here to pry.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his jaw tightened. “Then why are you here?” The question came out sharper than he intended, his voice low and clipped, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned off the stove, wiped her hands on a towel, and finally faced him.

“Why am I here?” she echoed with a calm tone. “One, because you texted. And two…” She crossed the room slowly, stopping a few feet from the couch. Her gaze softened, her head tilting slightly. “Sometimes, it helps to have someone around. Someone who’s not a therapist or a friend who knows too much. Just… someone.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the gears turning in his head. She approached the couch and sat down beside him, leaving just enough space to avoid crowding him but close enough to offer her quiet support.

Bucky shifted slightly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together tightly. The silence between them stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like an invitation for him to speak if he wanted to, no pressure, no expectations.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said finally, almost in a grumble.

“I know.” Her reply was soft, almost instinctive. “It’s okay.”

His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and for the first time that evening, he glanced at her directly. There was a hint of something vulnerable in his expression. Hesitation, perhaps.

“It’s just…” he started, his voice trailing off as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a lot lately. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just where you feel like it, I’ll be here to listen. And if you don’t want to talk, that is fine too, one doesn’t tell everything to their mom, hm?” she assured gently.

The timer beeped from the kitchen again, cutting through the moment. She reached over, giving his forearm a brief, reassuring squeeze before standing. “Let me get that before the potatoes burn.” As she moved toward the kitchen, she glanced back at him with a small smile. “Think about it, Bucky. No rush.”

He watched her retreat, his chest feeling a little lighter, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

When she called from the kitchen, cheerfully announcing that dinner was almost ready, he found himself answering without thinking. “Smells good.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He pushed himself off the couch with a grunt and crossed the short distance to the kitchen in a few long strides. Without a word, he started opening cabinets and drawers, pulling out a couple of plates and utensils to set up at the counter.

“Oh, such a good boy!” she teased warmly.

He paused, shooting her a look over his shoulder, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. “It’s just the right thing to do,” he muttered gruffly, his ears tinged faintly pink.

She bit back a smile as she pulled the tray of potatoes from the oven, the aroma filling the small kitchen. As she set the tray down, she reached for the fridge and produced a small bowl of creamy dip, placing it on the counter beside the potatoes.

Bucky quirked a brow with evident curiosity.

“What?” she asked playfully. “These aren’t your Depression potatoes. They’ve got a little twist.”

He snorted softly, shaking his head. “A twist, huh?”

“Just a little sour cream, and the spices are courtesy of your kitchen,” she said, ladling the potatoes onto a serving dish with practiced ease. “Trust me, they’ll still taste like home. Just… a little fancier.”

Bucky glanced at the bowl again, his lips twitching in faint amusement. “Fancy potatoes,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Hey,” she countered, setting the dish in the middle of the counter with a flourish. “Even tough guys like you deserve something nice now and then.”

He didn’t respond right away, but as he pulled out a stool at the counter and sat, there was a flicker of something lighter in his eyes. “Guess we’ll see if they live up to the hype.”

She handed him a fork, with a widening smile. “Challenge accepted.”

For the first time that evening, the atmosphere in the room felt less heavy. The clinking of utensils and the scent of roasted potatoes mingled with the faintest hum of unspoken understanding.

“Not bad,” Bucky admitted after his first bite, begrudging but carrying a hint of approval.

“Not bad?” she echoed, raising a brow. “I’ll take that as high praise.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and for a fleeting moment, it almost looked like he might smile.

They made small talk while they ate, keeping the conversation light. She asked about the crime novels on his side table, and he asked -grudgingly- what kind of twist she had planned for the next meal, implying she might want to poison him. Despite himself, Bucky found the interaction strangely… normal. He wasn’t used to normal, but he didn’t hate it.

When they finished, he stood and began gathering the dishes. She protested at first, but he waved her off. “It’s what my Ma would have expected anyway,” he said matter-of-factly.

He’d just started scrubbing the first plate when her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen, then at the clock, letting out a soft sigh. “Well, Buck, it seems our two hours are up.”

Bucky froze and his hand gripped the plate under the warm water. Then he nodded once. “I see…”

She leaned against the counter next to him, watching him carefully. “So, um… what do you want to do? Will you read the forms and consider starting this little journey together, or would you rather not see my face again?” She smiled softly. “Which I’d totally understand if that’s the case.”

He didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on rinsing the plate and setting it on the drying rack. For a moment, the only sound was the rush of water and the faint hum of the fridge. It was as if he was battling with himself, his tension was visible in the way his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched. Finally, he let out a long breath and turned to face her. His hand raked through his hair.

“I... I want this, I think,” he stated. Then, almost immediately, he added, “I can step out whenever I want, right?”

Her smile softened as she reached for his vibranium hand, her fingers resting lightly against the cool metal. “Yes, Bucky. You can step out whenever you want. No pressure, no expectations. This is for you, on your terms.”

He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking down to where her hand rested on his before shifting back to meet her gaze.

“Just take your time filling out the questionnaire, think the answers carefully” she continued, warmly but matter-of-fact. “and, whenever you’re ready, snap a picture and send it to me. No rush.”

“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Also…” She tilted her head. “How many days a week do you want me here?”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. He shifted slightly, glancing away as if considering his answer. “Uh… two, I guess?”

“Two it is,” she said with a small nod, releasing his hand and grabbing her bag from the counter. “You’re calling the shots, Buck. You just let me know if that changes.”

He didn’t respond right away, but as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the door, he called out in a low tone. “Thanks.”

She paused, glancing back at him with a smile. “Anytime.”

As the door closed behind her, Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty space she’d left behind.

Almost three minutes after she left, his phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a notification. He didn’t have to check to know who it was. Sure enough, the preview of the text confirmed it: Sam. The string of emojis accompanying the message made Bucky’s scowl deepen as he stared at the screen.

🤔💪👍👵🍲

“What the hell does that even mean?” he muttered to himself, swiping the phone off the counter and locking it without reading the full message. The last thing he needed was Sam’s smug commentaries right now.

He set the phone down a little harder than necessary and decided to distract himself the only way he knew how: by scrubbing himself clean. Grabbing a towel, he headed to the bathroom, peeling off his T-shirt on the way. The promise of a hot shower sounded like the closest thing to clarity he might find tonight.

But as the water beat down on his skin, his thoughts drifted back to the folder she’d left behind. The questionnaire seemed simple on the surface, but for a man like him, answering those kinds of questions wasn’t easy.

What comforts you?

The question alone made him bristle. Comfort wasn’t something he’d thought about in decades. Comfort was… a luxury, a distraction, a weakness. At least, that’s what they always told him and he still couldn’t shake that feeling.

The thought of filling out that damn paper felt heavier than any mission he’d been assigned. He’d rather face a bullet in his leg than sit down and figure out what he wanted.

He leaned his head against the shower tiles, the warmth of the water doing little to ease the tension coiling in his chest. Maybe he’d give himself a day. Or two. Hell, maybe a week. She’d said no rush, after all.

And if he didn’t send it? Well, it wasn’t like she’d show up uninvited. He could still back out.

He turned off the water with a sharp twist, the sudden silence leaving him alone with his thoughts. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out, glancing toward the closed door of his bedroom where the folder waited.

----

It had taken Bucky two weeks to fill out the forms. Two long, painstaking weeks of sitting at his couch, pen in hand, staring at questions that felt more like traps than prompts. He’d forced himself to be thorough, thinking carefully about each subject.

What makes you feel safe? What comforts you? What do you need from me?

How do you want to be called as an endearment?

He’d tried to approach it with an open mind, though the process made him cringe more than once. Admitting what he needed -or even what he was willing to permit- felt like baring himself in a way that left him raw.

But he finished. He signed the papers, scanned them with his phone, and sent the file off with an unceremonious text:

Here. Let me know if it’s fine.

Her reply had been immediate and cheerful: Got it! Looks perfect. See you Tuesday.

----

When Tuesday came, she arrived at his building, juggling a tote bag filled with what she liked to call her “comfort supplies.” A neighbor leaving the building had held the door open for her, a kind but overly trusting gesture.

Not a very safe thing to do, she thought as she stepped inside. But I’m not going to complain.

She reached his door, knuckles rapping lightly against it. “Bucky? It’s me.”

No answer.

She frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Bucky, you there?”

Still nothing.

She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick message: Hey, I’m here! A moment later, her phone buzzed with the dreaded notification: Message failed to deliver.

Her frown deepened. She tried calling, but the call went straight to voicemail. A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she pressed her ear to the door, listening intently.

Nothing. No footsteps. No muffled noises. Just silence.

She sighed, leaning back against the wall. Maybe something had come up. Maybe he’d changed his mind and didn’t know how to tell her.

She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed, and she still hadn’t heard a peep from him. With a reluctant shake of her head, she turned and walked toward the elevator, her footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

-----

A couple of hours later, Bucky dragged his feet through the corridor. His nose throbbed painfully, a reminder of the last few days he’d spent dealing -again- with enhanced assholes who seemed to have gotten their hands on some variant of the serum.

The faint metallic scent of dried blood clung to him, mingling with the sweat and grime of too many hours spent in the open. His brows furrowed, eyes heavy-lidded as he scanned the hallway out of habit. That’s when he spotted it, a small bag made of cloth sitting neatly at his doorstep.

He paused, taking a moment to connect the dots through the haze of exhaustion.

Fuck.

He let out a slow, frustrated exhale, running a hand over his face and wincing as the dried cut on his cheek tugged painfully. Of course, this would happen. Of course, he’d mess this up right out of the gate.

Bending down, he picked up the bag, holding it gingerly in his hands like it might scold him. The fabric was soft and patterned with small flowers, something that felt almost absurdly out of place against his bloodstained hands and the concrete walls of the hallway.

He peeked inside, and his chest tightened. A handful of sugar babies’ packages into view, the bright yellow being a jarring contrast to the dull exhaustion weighing him down.

What were your favorite sweets as a child?

The questionnaire echoed in his head, and his stomach twisted. He hadn’t even realized he’d written those down until now.

Straightening up, he glanced down the hallway toward the elevator, tightening his grip on the bag. What kind of impression was this supposed to leave? Forgetting the session entirely, not answering the door, not even leaving a message…

He groaned, leaning back against his door and glaring down at the bag like it held all the answers to his failures.

After a long moment, he nested the bag into the crook of his arm, fumbled with his keys, and let himself into the apartment.

The silence inside was deafening. He placed the bag of candies on the counter and reached for his phone, dead as expected. He plugged it into the charger with a sigh, running a hand through his hair before peeling off his ruined clothes. The bloodstained shirt landed in a heap on the floor as he pulled his knives and gun from their holsters and set them down on the counter next to the flower-patterned bag.

The juxtaposition was almost laughable. The hard edges of his weapons, worn and familiar, sat starkly against the soft, cheerful fabric of the bag.

It didn’t feel right, to see them in the same space.

But he was too tired to care for the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky leaned against the counter, lingering his gaze on the bag of candies. He reached inside and pulled out one of the packages, turning it over in his fingers like it was something fragile. For a moment, he just stood there, as the weight of the past days pressed down on him.

Finally, he tore the wrapper open, popped one caramel into his mouth, and let the sugary sweetness dissolve on his tongue. It wasn’t much. But somehow, it tasted like a small piece of something he’d forgotten he needed.

-----

It was late afternoon when her phone buzzed with a message. She picked it up from the table, brushing across the screen to read it.

Just one word: Sorry.

She stared at the message for a moment, tightening her grip on the device. Well, at least it didn’t seem like he’d changed his mind entirely. That was something.

Are you okay?

The reply didn’t come right away. The minutes stretched, and she found herself glancing at the screen every few moments. Finally, the phone buzzed again, and she read his response:

I don’t know.

Her chest ached at the honesty of those three words. Biting her lip, she typed her reply carefully.

Do you want me to come over?

The dots indicating he was typing blinked, disappeared, and then reappeared. His answer came back after what felt like an eternity.

You don’t have to.

She frowned, her thumbs flew across the keyboard.

That is not what I asked, Bucky.

Another pause. This one was longer. The late afternoon sun painted her walls in streaks of orange and gold, but she barely noticed, since her attention was fixed on the phone in her hands.

Finally, he replied.

Yes.

Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bag, slid her phone into her pocket, and headed for the door.

-----

Her gaze widened when she saw Bucky’s face as he opened the door. A nasty cut marred the already purpled skin of his cheek, his nose looked bruised, his lower lip was split, and scrapes littered his flesh arm. His expression and the slump of his shoulders only added to the picture of someone who’d been through a lot.

He must have noticed her stare because the first thing out of his mouth was, “You should see the other guys.”

She clicked her tongue in exasperation, her hand motioning firmly toward him. “Move. Let me in.”

Bucky stepped aside, his expression hovered somewhere between guilt and defiance. She entered without waiting for another invitation, her sharp eyes already scanning the room. “Did you clean the wounds?”

He shrugged nonchalantly as if it weren’t worth mentioning. “I took a shower…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, deliberate sigh. “That’s not… no. That doesn’t count. Where is your first aid kit?”

He looked at her like she’d grown another head. “Doll, all this is going away in three days, tops. Courtesy of the serum.”

Her gaze snapped to his, sharp enough to freeze hell over. “Where. Is. It. And how did you just call me?”

Bucky’s mouth opened, then shut, and he swallowed audibly. “M-ma,” he mumbled, his eyes darting to the floor like a chastised child.

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, with a tone that brooked no argument. “I assume you have that thing in the bathroom.”

“I told you, it’s not neces-”

That look again. He stopped mid-sentence, his shoulders slumping as he relented. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said briskly, already heading toward the bathroom without waiting for further direction. “Stay put. I’ll handle this.”

Bucky stared after her, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. With a quiet groan, he leaned against the counter, muttering under his breath, “You should really see the other guys…”

But even as he said it, he found himself oddly relieved that she was there.

“Sit on the chair so I can see you better”, her voice came calm but firm from his side as she gestured to the single chair against the wall.

Bucky hesitated for half a second before complying, dragging the chair forward slightly and lowering himself onto it.

She knelt slightly in front of him, brushing her fingers lightly over the bruised and battered skin of his face. “This surely must hurt,” she said softly. “You don’t have to act all rough with me.”

He didn’t answer, clenching his jaw ever so slightly. Not to brush off the pain, not to admit that it hurt. He just stayed silent, with his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her shoulder.

With gentle care, she dabbed at his cheek with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. The sharp, chemical smell hit the air immediately, and Bucky flinched, pressing his lips into a thin line.

She paused, knitting her brows in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.

Her gaze stayed patient but unyielding. “Bucky.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes flicking away from hers before returning. “I don’t like the smell,” he admitted, almost in a whisper.

She stilled, hovering her hand in midair. “Why?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze grew distant, and his expression went clouded as if he were somewhere else entirely. When he finally spoke, his voice was even quieter, tinged with something raw and broken.

“Spent a lot of years smelling that shit,” he said, with words that carried too much weight. “Couldn’t drink a glass of water without a command. Couldn’t… do anything. And that smell… it was always there. Always.”

Her heart ached at the admission, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she lowered the cotton ball, letting him see her hands move it out of the way. “Okay,” she said softly. “We’ll rinse the cuts with water instead. No more of this stuff.”

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at her. “You don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t,” she interrupted gently. “But I’m here to help you, honey, not to make things harder.”

He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

By the time she finished tending to his wounds, Bucky was leaning heavily against the chair, with drooping eyelids. The tension in his frame had loosened ever so slightly, his exhaustion was clear in the way he blinked sluggishly at the floor.

She stood and began gathering the supplies, placing them neatly back into his first aid kit. “I’m going to make you something to eat,” she said firmly, already planning a quick meal to get something nutritious in him.

“Not now,” he murmured, barely lifting his head.

She turned toward him with a frown. “Bucky, you’ve probably gone days without eating anything that isn’t complete garbage. You need-”

“I just…” His words came out with difficulty, like they were being dragged out of him. He rubbed his flesh hand over his face “I just want you close.” his voice was quieter now, almost pleading.

Her expression softened instantly. Nodding, she stepped closer, reaching for his vibranium hand. She wrapped her fingers around the cool metal and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s sit on the couch.”

She guided him the short distance toward the living room and he followed with slow, dragging steps. Once they reached the couch, she looked at him with patience. “What do you need?”

Bucky hesitated and his throat worked as if he were trying to swallow his pride. His eyes flicked to her, then away again, his mouth opening and closing like he was fighting himself. Finally, he let out a soft, almost defeated sigh.

“I… I want to lean my head on your lap, Mama,” he admitted almost shakily.

She smiled softly, not saying anything that might make him feel more self-conscious. She just nodded and sat at one end of the couch, patting her thighs gently to indicate he should lie down.

Bucky followed, his movements stiff and hesitant as he eased himself onto the couch. He stretched out his long torso, his head tentatively resting on her lap. He stayed tense for a moment, as if bracing for something, though even he wasn’t sure what.

She started running her fingers through his short hair, brushing the strands back in slow, rhythmic motions. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay.”

The tension in his shoulders began to melt, and his breathing slowed as her fingers worked through his hair with careful, deliberate strokes. He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as his body finally surrendered to a comfort he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

-----

After two months of visits, she was surprised one day to find an old oak dining table in Bucky’s apartment. It was small but sturdy, with matching chairs tucked neatly under it. The single chair he’d once had was nowhere in sight.

She stepped closer, running her hand along the smooth wood. “This is lovely,” she said, her tone genuinely appreciative.

Bucky stood nearby, with his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. He glanced at her, then at the table, mumbling, “It was time for me to have one.”

She turned to him with a smile. “Well, it makes the place look more like a home now. You know,” she added thoughtfully, “I have a tablecloth about this size at home that I don’t use. I could bring it next time, if you’d like.”

Bucky hesitated, furrowing his brows slightly as if considering her offer. “About that…” he started, a little unsure.

She waited patiently, giving him time to express what he wanted to say.

“I want to start…” He paused, searching for the right words. “making this place more... like someone is living here.”

“Like a home?” she prompted gently.

“Y-yeah.” He looked down, scratching at the back of his neck. “Besides that hut in Wakanda… it’s been a lifetime since I had a place to… a… a home.”

Her heart ached at his admission, but she didn’t push. Instead, she stepped closer and gently rested her hand on his arm. “That sounds very hard, sweetheart.”

Bucky didn’t deny or confirm her statement, just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“I was wondering…” he began, his voice steadier now. “If next time, we could schedule an earlier time to see each other. And maybe…” He hesitated, glancing at her as if bracing for her reaction. “Maybe you could come with me to help me buy some things?”

Her smile widened, her hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That sounds great, honey.” Then, she added warmly but firmly, “Just remember, this is your home. You have to choose what you think suits you.”

Her words were a reminder of the boundaries they’d set, of the balance they were working toward. Still, they carried enough warmth to let him know she’d be there for him.

After discussing the table and his plans to make the apartment feel more like a home, she glanced around the space and tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know,” she said lightly, “a good table deserves a little cleanup around it. How about we tidy up a bit?”

Bucky frowned, sweeping his gaze over the room. “It’s not that bad.”

She gave him a pointed look, walking toward a pile of mail and random odds and ends stacked on the counter. “It’s not terrible, but a little organizing wouldn’t hurt. Come on, help me out.”

He followed her reluctantly, muttering something under his breath about bossy moms.

She smirked but didn’t rise to the bait, handing him a small stack of papers. “Sort these, bills, junk, whatever doesn’t need to be here,” she instructed, already reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter.

As they worked, the task settled into an easy rhythm. She asked him about the books he’d been reading, and he surprised her by asking if she had any recommendations. It was small talk, but it felt comfortable and natural like it had been almost since the beginning.

After the living room and kitchen looked noticeably tidier, she wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced toward the hallway leading to his bedroom. Motioning toward the door, she said, “Alright, let’s check out the bedroom next.”

Bucky froze, tightening his shoulders visibly. “Bedroom’s fine,” he said quickly, the edge of reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m already on a roll, Buck. Might as well see the whole place.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he reluctantly trailed behind her. “It’s not much to look at,” he muttered, more resigned than defiant.

“Then it won’t take long,” she quipped, throwing him a reassuring smile before disappearing through the doorway. Her brows furrowed at the sight before her. The bed was buried under a haphazard pile of boxes, and scattered clothes dotted the floor. The mattress didn’t even have sheets on it, and the faint layer of dust on the headboard told her it hadn’t been used in a while.

She turned to him, crossing her arms. “What’s going on here? Where do these boxes go?”

Bucky shifted awkwardly in the doorway, avoiding her gaze. “They’re fine where they are.”

“Bucky…” Her voice softened, concern creeping into her tone. “Where are you sleeping?”

He clenched his jaw, and after a long pause, he mumbled, “On the floor. In the living room.”

Her eyes widened. “The floor?

He nodded, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

She stepped closer, keeping her voice calm but firm. “Why?”

His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The bed’s too… soft.” He paused, struggling with the words. “It doesn’t feel safe,” he continued, with a low voice. “When I’m on the floor, I can feel the room. Hear things better. I… know what’s going on and can act in case something happens.” His gaze dropped to the pile of boxes on the bed. “And the bed… it’s just not right. Too soft, too confining. It feels like a trap.”

She nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and quiet sadness. “That makes sense,” she said gently. “But, honey, that’s no way to live. I get why you feel that way, but you deserve to rest somewhere that doesn’t hurt your back.”

He gave her a faint shrug, the corner of his mouth pulling downward. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” she replied, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on his arm. “How about we start small? Let’s clear off the bed today. No pressure to use it yet, but maybe we can make it feel a little less… wrong. Less like a trap.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes flicking back toward the cluttered bed. She could see the hesitation in his face, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting an internal battle.

Finally, he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Alright.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Good. So, where do these boxes go?”

“Closet,” he muttered, stepping forward to help her.

Together, they cleared the bed, tucking the boxes away and folding the stray clothes. She didn’t push or prod, keeping the conversation light as they worked. She mentioned ideas for making the bed more comfortable, maybe firmer pillows or a thinner mattress topper to make it feel less suffocating.

By the time they were done, the room already looked less like a storage space and more like a place where someone could rest.

“There,” she said, dusting her hands off and turning to him. “A step in the right direction.”

Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, staring at it like it was something foreign. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess so.”

“You don’t have to use it right away,” she gently. “But when you’re ready, it’ll be here for you.”

He nodded again, loosening his shoulders slightly.

As they returned to the main area, she expected Bucky to suggest starting dinner, but instead, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Can we… sit for a bit? On the couch?”

“Of course,” she said with an easy smile, leading the way. She settled into her usual spot at one end, patting her thighs lightly.

Bucky sat and shifted, lying down until his head rested on her lap. When her fingers began threading gently through his hair, he let out a quiet exhale. They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the apartment punctuated only by the soft rhythm of her fingers against his scalp and the occasional hum of traffic outside.

“Anything you want to talk about?” she asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but leaving the door open for him.

Bucky closed his eyes, his voice low and drowsy. “Not yet. Just this. This is… enough.”

After a while of lying on the couch, Bucky's body had grown heavier against her lap. His breathing became slower, and his voice was groggy when he finally spoke. “Hey… can we go shopping on Saturday instead of Friday?”

Her fingers stilled briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “Saturday?”

“Yeah…” He trailed off, blinking sluggishly up at the ceiling. “I’ve got some stuff to deal with on Friday. Nothing big. Just easier if it’s Saturday.”

She hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at him. “I can’t,” she said gently.

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to meet her gaze.

“I have a date.”

The weight in the room shifted immediately and his body stiffened under her touch. “Like… with your other ‘son’?” he asked, the words tumbling out awkwardly before he could stop himself.

She blinked, then laughed softly. “No, Bucky. Like with a man. A real date.”

Her fingers resumed their lazy rhythm through his hair, but she could feel the way his shoulders tensed further, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t respond right away, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Sensing his unease, she chuckled. “Don’t worry. You won’t meet him, and you definitely won’t have to call him Dad.”

Bucky let out a faint huff, something caught between a snort and a sigh, but he didn’t relax. “Didn’t say I was worried,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

She smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair again with deliberate care. He closed his eyes again, letting her touch ground him as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.

After a moment of silence, Bucky shifted slightly against her lap. His lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something back, but finally, the question slipped out. “Where… where did you meet this guy?”

Her fingers paused briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “At the bookstore,” she said lightly. “He comes in pretty often. We’ve had a few nice conversations over the past couple of months.”

Bucky frowned, his brows knitting together as he stared at the ceiling. “You’ve gone out with him before?”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “No, this will be the first time.”

He mulled that over, his gaze flickering with something unreadable before he glanced up at her. “So… what do you like about him?”

The question came out gruff, almost begrudging, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity -or maybe hesitation- in his voice.

Her lips twitched with amusement as she considered the question. “Well,” she began, “he’s polite, for once. Always says hello and takes the time to ask how my day is going.”

Bucky huffed lightly, a soft sound of dismissal.

“And he’s thoughtful,” she continued. “One time, he brought me coffee because he noticed I was swamped with a shipment of books. Didn’t even stay to chat, just handed it to me and said he thought I might need it.”

“Sounds like a Boy Scout,” Bucky muttered, his tone laced with faint skepticism.

She chuckled softly, brushing her fingers lightly over his temple. “Maybe. But I like that he pays attention. He’s kind without expecting anything in return.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on some invisible point far away. Finally, he murmured, “So, you’re serious about him?”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “It’s just one date, Buck,” she said gently. “I’m not planning a wedding.” Her voice carried a reassuring warmth, softening the weight of his question. “I don’t even know if there’s anything there yet.”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his tone softer now, though the small frown on his face lingered. “Guess you’ll find out.”

“I guess I will,” she replied. After a pause, she added with a playful glint in her eyes, “But no matter what happens, it won’t change anything between us. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

Bucky’s lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile breaking through his lingering tension. “Yeah… I remember.”

Her fingers slid through his hair again with deliberate care, and the corners of his mouth relaxed, even if his eyes remained shadowed. Whatever the storm in his mind, her presence was enough to keep it at bay for now.

“Speaking of dates,” she said, lightly but curious, “you didn’t tell me how your date went with the woman from the grocery store. The one you told me about the last time we saw each other.”

Bucky shifted against her lap, suddenly looking a lot less relaxed. “I… kind of left in the middle of it,” he admitted, uncomfortable.

“Oh, you didn’t,” her eyebrows lifted in mock reproach as she tugged softly at his hair, as a playful reprimand.

He huffed, pressing his lips into a thin line. “She was… noisy,” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he struggled to explain. “Talked too much, and it wasn’t even about anything interesting. Kept asking questions, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “She didn’t actually care about the answers. Just wanted to fill the silence.”

Her fingers paused briefly, then resumed their soothing rhythm through his hair. “That sounds exhausting,” she said softly, her tone full of understanding. “But that’s not the whole reason, is it?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “She was touchy,” he said finally. “Kept leaning in, grabbing my arm, laughing like… like it was supposed to make me feel good or something.”

“Did it?” she asked gently.

“No.” His response was firm, and his hands flexed at his sides as though the memory left him uneasy. “I wasn’t comfortable with her being so close. I don’t even think she noticed. Or cared.”

She sighed softly, her touch steady as she brushed her fingers through his hair again. “You’ll find someone who gets you. Someone who’ll respect your pace and what you need.”

His lips twitched faintly, like he wanted to smile but wasn’t quite sure how. “What if there’s not?” he muttered, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t catch it.

“There will be,” she reassured him. “You just have to be patient. And picky. Nothing wrong with that.”

For a moment, he was silent, the tension in his body softening just a little under her touch. Then, almost shyly, he murmured, “Thanks… Mama.”

She smiled warmly, leaning back into the couch as her hand continued to comb gently through his hair. “Anytime, honey.”

-----

Time had a way of slipping by, and before he knew it, Bucky found himself sitting across from another date. This one wasn’t noisy or overly touchy, and the small brewery they’d chosen wasn’t bad, either. He nursed a beer in one hand, his vibranium arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his Henley, as the woman across from him laughed at something he’d said, a low, cautious laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

Her eyes drifted to his wrist, where the dark leather bracelet he always wore peeked out from his sleeve. “I like that,” she said, nodding toward it. “The bracelet. It’s nice.”

He glanced at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks. My mom gave it to me.”

Her expression faltered slightly, the smile on her lips growing a bit stiff. “Oh, that’s… sweet,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you, uh, live with your mom?”

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking at her like she’d just asked if the sky was purple. “No. Why?”

She shifted in her seat, her fingers toying with the edge of her glass. “Well, then you must be very… close to her. Are you the youngest son?”

“No.” His tone was sharper now, though he didn’t mean it to be. “Why?”

The woman hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her drink. Finally, she gestured vaguely toward him, her voice dropping as though she were trying to be delicate. “Well… you’ve brought her up a lot. And, no offense, but it’s kind of… weird for a man your age. On a date, I mean.”

Bucky froze, his beer halfway to his lips. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue gaze narrowing slightly as he processed what she’d just said. Then, slowly, he set the bottle down, and his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. A familiar sense of unease churned in his chest, accompanied by the ache of frustration.

“Right,” he said finally with an even voice, though there was a subtle edge to it. “I guess that is weird.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, her awkward smile faltering completely. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. His expression was blank, his tone cool, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

For the rest of the date, the conversation limped along, each attempt at salvaging it falling flat. Bucky found himself withdrawing, offering short, polite responses but little else. The spark of curiosity or connection -if there had ever been one- had fizzled out entirely.

When the check came, he paid for their drinks, refusing her offer to split it with a quiet but firm “Don’t worry about it.”

As they stepped outside, he offered a polite goodbye, but his tone was distant, and he didn’t wait for her to respond before walking off into the night.

He didn’t bring her up that much, did he? The thought came gruffly as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment, but deep down, he already knew the answer. Should’ve just stayed home.

His gaze fell to the leather bracelet again, and he sighed, slowing his footsteps.

‘Mom’ wouldn’t have made me feel like that.

He shook his head as he entered, the faint metallic clink of keys landing in the small ceramic bowl echoed through the quiet space. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze lingered on it. The damn bowl she picked because I couldn’t decide. He let out a low, frustrated growl, kicking off his boots near the door and running a hand through his hair.

His nose wrinkled as a faint scent clung to him, cigarettes, from his date. She must have smoked earlier, and now it lingered in his jacket, his shirt, even his hair. His brows furrowed. He didn’t like it. The realization was sharp, irritating, and only added to his foul mood as he stripped off his clothes while walking toward the bathroom.

The shower hissed to life, steam filling the room as he stepped under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over his shoulders. He rested his palms against the tile wall, hanging his head forward, dampening his hair.

The date replayed in his head in vivid detail: her awkward comments, the tight smile when she’d tried to backpedal, the judgment laced in her words. Weird for a man your age. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening against the slick tiles.

She wasn’t wrong, he did bring up Mama more than he realized. But was that a crime? She was one of the few constants in his life that didn’t feel… hollow.

The thought only made the pit in his stomach grow heavier. The way she’d looked at him like he was some awkward, broken man who couldn’t function properly… it stung.

Before he knew it, his thoughts wandered to her instead. Not the woman from the date, but the one helping him put his life back together piece by piece. The one who’d picked out that damn bowl. The one who had sat on his couch, combing her fingers through his hair when he’d been too exhausted to speak.

His breathing hitched slightly as he remembered her touch, soft and unhurried, calming him in a way no one else ever had. He could almost feel the ghost of her fingers brushing through his hair, skimming over his temple with a care he didn’t deserve.

His hand slid down his chest, trailing over the wet planes of his torso, and he exhaled shakily, furrowing his brow. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. It was wrong -so wrong- but his body didn’t seem to care.

His grip tightened on himself, and his head thunked lightly against the tile as a groan slipped past his lips. The hot water beat against his back, but it couldn’t drown out the traitorous images flooding his mind. Her smile, the warmth of her voice, the way she’d called him “honey” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his strokes becoming sharper, more desperate as if he could exorcise the feelings clawing their way to the surface. He shouldn’t be doing this, he admonished himself again. Not with Mama. Not the one person who made him feel safe.

And yet, the warmth of her imagined touch, the thought of her fingers tracing the scars on his skin or resting lightly against his jaw, was enough to push him over the edge. His release came with a choked groan, and his forehead pressed harder against the tile as his body shuddered.

For a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the water and his ragged breathing.

And then the guilt hit him.

His hands clenched into fists, as his chest tightened. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he whispered harshly, his voice cracking under the weight of his self-reproach.

He braced himself against the wall, shaking his head slightly. He felt disgusting, his stomach twisted as shame crept in his mind. She trusted him -cared for him- and this was how he repaid that?

With a low, bitter laugh, he reached for the soap, scrubbing furiously at his skin as if he could wash away the evidence of what he’d just done. But no amount of scrubbing could cleanse the storm of emotions raging inside him.

It was wrong. He was wrong. And yet, deep down, a part of him couldn’t stop wanting.

Goddammit.

-----

When Sam hinted that week about needing him for a little thing in Kuala Lumpur, Bucky didn’t hesitate. It didn’t seem like something Wilson could handle solo, and besides, a mission was the perfect way to blow off some steam. Anything to quiet the thoughts that had been clawing at the back of his mind since the date -and especially- since that shower.

He sent a quick text to Mama, keeping it short and simple, their usual code for missions.

Taking a vacation this week. Won’t make Friday.

Her reply came quickly: Take care of yourself. Don’t engage in crazy fun.

Bucky huffed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the screen. Ok, Mom, he typed back, his lips twitching faintly despite himself.

Her response came almost immediately: I mean it, Jamie.

Fuck. His jaw tightened, and he locked the phone without answering. She always had a way of cutting through him, even with a couple of words. He shoved the phone into his pocket and headed to pack, grumbling under his breath.

When Sam picked him up a day later, Bucky was already in mission mode: focused, stoic, and bracing himself for whatever chaos Wilson was about to drag him into. But despite his best efforts to push her words aside, they echoed faintly in his mind.

Take care of yourself.

He’d try. For her.

-----

Things went slightly fine the first day, if you ignored the shooting, falling from a 15-story building into a trash container, and the broken shower in the safehouse. Bucky stood shirtless in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, grimacing as he splashed cold water over his chest and shoulders. The sink barely worked, sputtering like it might give up entirely, and the dingy tiles on the walls didn’t do much to make him feel clean.

“Man, this place is a dump,” Sam said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Better than the street,” Bucky grunted, grabbing a threadbare towel to dry off.

Sam hummed noncommittally, watching as Bucky fumbled with the faucet. “So, how’s it going with her?”

Bucky froze briefly before answering. “Things are good.”

“Glad you finally listened to me.” Sam’s voice carried just a hint of smugness. “I mean, you’re still a pain in the ass, but at least your mood’s improved a lot these past months.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You want me to thank you or something?”

“Nah,” Sam replied, grinning. “But I’ll take it as a win anyway.”

Bucky muttered something unintelligible under his breath and pushed past him, heading to the small, creaky bed in the corner of the cramped space.

That night, like most nights, sleep evaded him. He lay on his back, staring at the water-stained ceiling of the safehouse, while his mind spun with too many thoughts. Missions were supposed to clear his head, burn off the restlessness that kept him awake. But tonight, even exhaustion didn’t help.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat up and grabbed the disposable phone Sam had handed him earlier. He knew it was a bad idea, knew he should just put it away and try to rest, but his fingers moved on their own, pulling up her profile.

Her social media was usually quiet: cozy book displays from her job, pictures of the plants she was trying to keep alive, and the occasional funny meme. It was soothing, like a peek into a normal life that he could never fully touch.

But tonight, it wasn’t soothing.

His stomach dropped as he stared at the most recent photo, uploaded just a few hours ago. It was a close-up of two hands holding Sharpies, coloring a detailed mandala. One of the hands was hers, he recognized the delicate curve of her fingers, and the faint scar near her thumb. The other one was clearly male, broader and rougher.

The tags hit him like a punch to the gut:

#SoProudOfYou #AlmostAllByYourself

Bucky stared at the screen, and his chest tightened as the meaning sank in his brain.

Her other son.

It had to be him, the other veteran she worked with, the one she’d mentioned months ago. The one responsible for her being “unsure” about taking him in when Sam first approached her.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. He could still picture the hands, the caption, the pride in her words. And it twisted in his chest, an uncomfortable, raw feeling he couldn’t shake.

He rubbed his hand over his face, groaning softly. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t his. She’d never been his, not in that way. He told himself that over and over, but the ache in his chest didn’t care. The idea of her giving someone else that same care, that same warmth, felt like a betrayal, even though he had no right to feel that way.

With a frustrated growl, Bucky tossed the phone onto the nightstand and dropped his head into his hands. For all the chaos of the mission, for all the bullets and explosions and pain, nothing had hit him harder than that damn photo.

And he hated himself for how much it hurt.

-----

The mission wrapped up in a flurry of controlled chaos. The intel had been secured, the enhanced assholes neutralized, and while Sam emerged with only a few scratches, Bucky sported a fresh bruise on his jaw and a deep gash on his forearm, not that he cared.

The flight back was quiet, the hum of the jet’s engines filling the cabin as Bucky sat slumped in one of the seats, staring a blank point in front of him. His vibranium fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, the only outward sign of the storm brewing in his head.

Across the aisle, Sam noticed. He always noticed.

At first, he let it be, figuring Bucky’s mood would even out once they hit the ground. But as the hours dragged on, and the Winter Sulker stayed silent, Sam couldn’t help himself.

“You’re quiet,” Sam said, leaning back in his seat.

Bucky didn’t respond, his gaze kept fixed on the clouds outside.

Sam tried again, his tone a little sharper this time. “You gonna sit there brooding the whole way, or are you gonna tell me what’s eating you?”

Still, nothing.

Sam let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But let me guess: You’re pissed off because someone scratched your arm? Or wait, maybe you’re mad because someone didn’t say ‘thank you sir’ after you saved their life?”

Bucky’s fingers stilled on the armrest, tightening his jaw.

That was all the opening Sam needed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, man, I’m not blind. You’ve been sulking since day one of this mission. You want to talk about it, or do I have to guess some more?”

Bucky’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing. “Just drop it, Wilson.”

“See, now you’ve got me curious,” Sam said, grinning in a way that only made Bucky’s irritation spike. “What’s got the great James Buchanan Barnes in such a mood? Did Mama scold you over text?”

That did it. Bucky shot out of his seat, towering over Sam with a scowl. “I said drop it!” he barked, his voice echoed in the small cabin.

Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stared up at Bucky. “So it is about her.”

Bucky froze, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Man, you’ve been walking around like someone kicked your dog,” Sam continued, with a softer tone. “And I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ve got to get it out before it eats you alive.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before sitting back down with a heavy thud. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and muttered, “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Sam pointed out.

“It’s fine,” Bucky snapped tiredly.

Sam watched him for a moment before sighing and leaning back. “Alright. Keep it to yourself if you want. But I’m telling you now, whatever’s got you in this mood, you better work it out before it gets worse.

Bucky didn’t answer, turning his gaze back to the blank point. The rest of the flight passed in tense silence, as the weight of Sam’s words pressed down on him more than he wanted to admit.

----

He entered his apartment, dragging his feet like every step took more effort than it should. The mission had taken more out of him than he cared to admit, though it wasn’t the physical strain, it was the weight in his chest that seemed to grow heavier every time he returned to this quiet, empty space.

He grabbed his dead phone from the counter and plugged into the charger, barely glancing at the notifications, and made his way to the bed. The mattress was thin, and the pillows hard, as she’d suggested. “A good way to transition from the floor,” she’d said, and damned if she hadn’t been right. He’d hated it at first, but now… now it felt like his.

He dropped onto it without bothering to change, his eyes closing almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was so tired. So fucking tired.

That night, the nightmares came back.

And the next night.

And the next.

-----

Several days later, she was pacing her living room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Whatever Bucky was into, it must have been over by now. She was sure of it, or at least, she hoped so. The radio silence was starting to worry her.

He wasn’t one to check in often -God knew that- but after all these months, she’d learned his rhythms. This wasn’t like him, not entirely. Not answering her, staying quiet this long? That wasn’t just distance. That was something else.

Finally, she typed a quick, casual message:

Still at the resort, hun?

His reply came faster than she’d expected, but it was curt.

No.

Her brows furrowed. Oh, okay, she thought, frowning at the screen. Something felt off. She typed again.

Everything alright? Did you have more fun than intended?

The dots in the chat appeared, blinked, and then disappeared.

Okay, she thought, waiting. Then they blinked again. And disappeared.

Bucky, are you hurt? she finally wrote with concern.

This time, the message was read almost instantly, but no reply came.

She sighed, deepening her frown. She knew this pattern all too well. When Bucky didn’t answer, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was because he didn’t know how.

“Alright, Buck,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her bag. “Time for a visit.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, dropping everything to pull him out of whatever dark place he’d retreated to. He’d let her in, little by little, trusting her with parts of himself no one else saw. She’d told herself it was about helping him, being there for him in the way he needed.

But it was more than that.

The truth, the one she kept swallowing down, was that her care for him didn’t fit neatly into the boundaries of their arrangement. It wasn’t maternal, not entirely. It was something more, something deeper. She shoved the thought aside, tightening her grip on her bag. Principles, she reminded herself firmly. Getting involved with him like that would be wrong. He deserved better.

But she couldn’t stop herself from caring.

She grabbed the key off the hook by her door and headed out. Not answering the door wasn’t going to be an option this time.

Not for her.

As expected, her knocks were met with silence. She sighed with resignation and slipped the key into the lock.

The door creaked open, and she wrinkled her nose as the stale, charged air of the apartment hit her. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen it, but it was far from the neat, semi-organized space they’d worked on together. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the scattered clothes on the floor and a small pile of takeout containers on the counter.

At least he’s been eating, she thought, a small relief in the face of the mess.

The faint sound of water running led her to the source: the bathroom. The shower.

She turned her focus back to the living room, her lips pressing into a line as she slid the window open to let in some fresh air. The cool breeze offered a small reprieve from the heaviness of the space.

Spotting a roll of garbage bags near the counter, she grabbed one and started tidying up. The crumpled clothes went into a hamper, the empty takeout boxes into the bag. She wiped at the counter absently, and her mind drifted to the last time he’d gone radio silent like this.

Whatever this is, we’ll get through it, she told herself.

She was so focused on her task, that she didn’t notice when the sound of the shower stopped, or when Bucky emerged from the hallway.

He stood there, quiet and guarded, with a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water clung to his skin, rolling down the faint scars on his flesh arm and chest. His stare was intense and unreadable as he watched her move around his apartment as if she belonged there.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice startled her, low and edged with exhaustion. She turned sharply, the garbage bag crinkling in her hands as her eyes met his.

“Oh,” she said, recovering quickly. Her gaze flicked briefly over him before landing firmly on his face. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.” She gestured toward the bag in her hands. “Figured I’d help you out a little.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“No,” she replied evenly, setting the bag down and crossing her arms. “But I wasn’t about to leave you stewing in here like this.”

His jaw worked as he shifted his weight. “I’m fine.”

She raised an skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah? Because this,” she gestured to the room, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine,’ Buck.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Good,” she shot back, her tone soft but firm. “Because I’m not giving you one. I’m here because I care about you, and you clearly need someone right now. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, and his guarded expression wavered slightly. Then, with a tired sigh, he stepped further into the room, slumping his shoulders. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted with a soft gaze. “But I’m here now. So let me help.”

He didn’t respond, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders loosened, and he dropped into a chair near the counter, fixing his gaze somewhere on the floor.

She picked up the garbage bag again, resuming her quiet cleanup. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to coax him out of his own head, and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last. But as she moved around the room, she noticed the faintest crack in his armor, proof that he was letting her in, even if he didn’t have the words to say it yet.

“So… what’s going on?” she asked, as she picked up a wrinkled pair of boxers from one of the chairs.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the offending garment, then back to her face. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. He was tired, tired of pretending, tired of holding back.

“I’m… jealous.” he admitted reluctantly.

She paused, her fingers tightened around the fabric before dropping it into the laundry pile. “Jealous?” she echoed, her brows furrowing. “Of who?”

His jaw tensed, and his gaze darted away before he muttered, “I saw it. The Sharpies picture.”

Her lips parted slightly in understanding. “Oh,” she said softly. “And?”

“And…” He sighed again, the frustration etched into every line of his face. “You never did that with me.”

“Coloring?” she asked, tilting her head. “I didn’t think you’d be into it, babe.”

“Not coloring,” he said sharply, running a hand through his damp hair again. Then his voice softened, but his words carried a heavy weight. “The… the picture.”

Oh.

“Well,” she started gently, “you’re not exactly a fan of social media. And you always grump when I try to take one of us.”

“It’s not that,” he said, shaking his head. His blue eyes finally met hers, raw and vulnerable in a way that made her chest tighten. “It’s… I forget sometimes that I’m not your only son.”

Oh.

He leaned back in the chair, running his hand over his face as if to hide the emotions flickering across it. “I don’t like the idea of sharing you,” he admitted, in a low, almost bitter tone.

She swallowed hard. “Well, it happens all the time,” she said cautiously, trying to keep her tone light. “Brothers usually don’t like-”

“He’s not my brother,” Bucky interrupted firmly, snapping his gaze to hers.

The air in the room shifted. His next words came softer, but they hit like a thunderclap.

“And you… you’re not my ma.”

The room seemed to still, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the background.

She stared at him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. “Bucky…”

“I hate it,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap as he looked at her with a mix of anger and desperation. “I hate that I look forward to seeing you more than I’ve looked forward to anything in years. I hate that I can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting what I get. And I hate that I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed as she searched for the right words. “Bucky,” she said softly, leaning toward him, “this… this doesn’t have to be something you hate.”

“I know,” he said, his voice was raw and strained. “But I can’t manage my feelings toward you.”

Her breath caught, and her heart twisted painfully as she absorbed the weight of his confession. She leaned back slightly, clenching her hands together in her lap and sighed.

“Bucky,” she started softly, “this bond we’ve built… it’s compromised. It’s not what it’s supposed to be anymore. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to continue mothering you.”

His head snapped up, his blue eyes went wide and glassy with panic. The look on his face made her chest ache. He looked utterly wrecked, his lips parted as if to argue, but no words came at first.

“No,” he finally stammered, his voice shaky and uneven. “No, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’ll stop. I’ll never bring it up again, I swear.” His breath hitched, and he shook his head as if trying to find the right words. “Just… don’t leave me, Mama.”

He reached for her hand, firmly but also trembling. His vibranium fingers brushed against her wrist, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch. “I need you,” he said, his voice breaking.

Her heart shattered at the sheer desperation in his voice, in the way his thumb nervously rubbed over the back of her hand like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

With her free hand, she reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek, softly brushing her thumb over a scar near his jawline. His breath hitched again, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily, as though her touch was calming him.

“This ordeal isn’t right, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s not fair to you. Or to me.”

“But-” His hand tightened around hers, his body leaned closer to her as though proximity alone could keep her from slipping away. “I’ll do better. I’ll keep it together. Just… please, don’t go. Don’t give up on me.”

“Bucky,” she whispered, tracing soothing circles on his cheek. “It’s not about giving up on you. It’s about what’s right. What’s healthy.”

“I don’t care about right,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I just… I can’t lose you too.”

Her hand trembled slightly where it rested against his cheek, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Bucky,” she began softly, tentative but growing steadier as she continued, “I also have feelings for you. I’ve been having them for a while now.”

His breath hitched, his wide eyes searching hers desperately, but before he could speak, she pushed forward.

“I was never going to act on it,” she said firmly. “Because it would mean taking advantage of you.”

His brows furrowed deeply, and he shook his head, rising his voice with frustration and disbelief. “I’m a grown man. You can’t take advantage of me.”

“You know that’s not true,” she countered gently but unyieldingly.“You trust me, Bucky. You let me in, more than anyone else. And that’s why we can’t do this dynamic anymore.”

Her words hit him like a physical blow. His grip on her hand tightened, and his shoulders hunched as his head dipped forward slightly. For a moment, he was silent, breathing heavily as he tried to process her words.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head, his voice broke as he looked back up at her with unshed tears brightening his eyes. “No… Ma… you can’t just-”

“Bucky,” she said softly, cutting him off with a tenderness that nearly undid him. Her fingers brushed his cheek again, tracing soothing circles as her heart ached at the devastation written across his face. “The contract we made, the boundaries we agreed on, it doesn’t fit us anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be something I’m not.”

His breath hitched, the knot in his throat tightened as he struggled to find words. “But you’re not-” he started, voice trembling.

She shook her head gently, stopping him again. “I’m not your mom, Bucky. You said it yourself.” Her voice wavered just enough to betray the conflict she felt.

His lips parted, but no sound came as he searched her face, desperate for something -anything-that might keep her close.

“That being said…” she murmured after a beat, her thumb still brushing gently against his cheek. Her eyes softened as they searched for his. “We can try… dating. To see how and where this might go, because that’s something completely different.”

His mind blanked for a moment, as her words hit him. Dating?

The word echoed in his head, feeling too big and too small all at once. He blinked, his mouth opening slightly as he struggled to process what she’d just said. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out, his breath caught somewhere between confusion and longing.

Dating… her?

His heart twisted, caught in the crossfire of disbelief and a yearning he’d buried for so long it felt foreign. She wasn’t pulling back. She wasn’t brushing this off or deflecting like he’d feared. Instead, she was offering something he hadn’t dared to hope for.

Does she mean it?

For so long, he’d kept his feelings locked away, hidden in the shadows of his mind where they couldn’t hurt him -or anyone else-. But now, here she was, standing in front of him, dragging those feelings into the light with words that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

“…What?” he finally managed, the word slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was rough, strained, tangled somewhere between confusion and desperation.

Her expression didn’t falter, but there was a faint glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes, just enough to make his chest ache. “Dating, Bucky,” she repeated. “Not as your mom. Not as anyone else. Just… as us.”

Us.

His throat tightened, and his hands flexed against hers. The knot in his chest twisted painfully, caught between fear and something that felt dangerously close to relief.

Could there even be an us?

“Bucky, you’re doing the staring thing,” she said softly, her voice tinged with amusement, though her eyes remained serious as if willing him to believe her.

The corner of his mouth twitched, a faint huff of air escaped his nose as he ducked his head slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I thought it was just me. You’re… sure about me?

Her thumb brushed gently along his jaw, and a small, reassuring smile tugged at her lips. “I wouldn’t be here saying this if I wasn’t sure, Buck.”

He glanced at her lips, the desire to close the space between them was almost overwhelming, but he hesitated. “You’re not… scared?”

“Of you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Never.” Her smile grew just a bit, as she added, “You’re not as intimidating as you think, you know.”

That earned a faint chuckle, though it was weighed down by the uncertainty still lingering in his chest. “I just… I’m not exactly easy, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m complicated. Messed up.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand gently. “Bucky, all these months I’ve been coming here to be with you, you’ve opened up to me in ways I don’t think you’ve done with anyone else. You’ve trusted me with parts of yourself that I know aren’t easy to share.”

Her voice softened, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I know what I’m dealing with. And I can promise you, you’re not a mess. Not to me.”

His chest tightened at her words. He exhaled slowly, his blue eyes flicking between hers as if searching for any trace of doubt but all he saw was warmth. “Then,” he began, his tone was low but went higher as he steadied himself. “Let’s-let’s go. On a date.”

Her lips twitched, and she glanced down briefly, with a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, to go right now, you should probably put some clothes on first, don’t you think?”

For a moment, he blinked, caught off guard by the shift, until her words sank in. His gaze darted down to the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, and the faintest flush crept up his neck.

“I didn’t mean right now, Ma-” He caught himself, his jaw tightened as he quickly corrected, “Doll.” The word came out gruff, almost embarrassed, as he scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking away for a second.

Her brow arched at the slip, but she didn’t comment, though the faint smile tugging at her lips didn’t go unnoticed.

Bucky shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, and for once, the knowledge that she wanted this too -wanted him- settled something inside him. The usual discomfort of being caught off guard wasn’t there. Instead, he felt a spark of confidence, small but growing.

She leaned back in her chair, deciding to give him the space to take the lead. Considering his old-fashioned upbringing, it felt right to let him set the tone, not just to give him control, but to help him feel steady.

“So,” she said lightly, playful but encouraging, “pick a place and a time, and we’ll see.”

He nodded slowly, flexing his fingers against his knee before leaning back slightly in his seat. The movement shifted the towel around his hips just enough to make her painfully aware of the fact that he was still half-naked.

Her eyes traced the line of his shoulders, and the slight curve of his jaw as he glanced down in thought. Then her wandering gaze dipped against her better judgment, tracing the line of his chest, the faint curve of muscle at his stomach, and the scars she’d never quite let herself linger on before.

When her eyes flicked back up to his face, his sharp blue gaze was already on her, a flicker of amusement sparking in his expression. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, “Okay,” he said, more confident now. “I’ll… figure it out.”

Her cheeks warmed faintly, and she quickly forced a smile, hoping it would cover her flustering. “Take your time, Bucky. Just not too long.”

He tipped his head slightly, and his smirk deepened with an easy confidence in his posture that was now unmistakable. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

----

True to his word, her phone buzzed with a message a couple of days later.

Dinner? Friday at 7. That place you mentioned once, Marcellino’s.

She blinked at the screen, parting her lips in surprise. Marcellino’s? The Italian place she’d mentioned months ago, almost offhandedly, as a “bucket list” spot she’d love to visit someday? How had he even remembered?

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Seriously? I’ve been dying to go there. How’d you manage reservations so fast?

On the other side of town, Bucky stared at her message, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reclined on his couch. It had been a pain finding a reservation on such short notice; apparently, Marcellino’s had been booked solid for weeks. But hacking into their system had been child’s play, a few keystrokes, some backdoor access, and voilà: table for two, Friday at 7.

She would never know, of course.

He typed back simply.

I’ve got my ways.

Her reply came quickly, punctuated with a laughing emoji.

Mysterious, huh? Alright, Bucky. I’ll see you on Friday.

Bucky exhaled slowly, setting his phone down and leaning back against the couch. A small, quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. It wasn’t just the date, it was the effort, the planning, and the decision to put himself out there in a way he hadn’t in decades.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

----

When the cab pulled up to the curb, she spotted him immediately. He was standing just outside the restaurant, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark suit pants. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was distracted, fixed on something across the street.

She rarely saw him out of his usual Henleys and jeans, but God help her, he cleaned up well. The suit was perfectly tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and tapering at his waist. His hair, usually left to its own devices, was slicked back neatly, the sharp lines of his jawline even more striking under the glow of the streetlights.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

Bucky, oblivious to her arrival, shifted his weight slightly, his vibranium fingers flexing in his pocket as his flesh hand adjusted his tie. She smiled to herself, taking the opportunity to appreciate him while his guard was down. He was so effortlessly striking, yet she knew he’d put thought into it. He really wanted this to go right.

Finally, she stepped out of the cab, and her heels clicked softly against the pavement. “Hey, handsome,” she called out.

Bucky’s head snapped toward her, his distracted expression melting into something softer. His lips parted slightly, raking his gaze over her from head to toe. “Wow,” he murmured, low and rough. “You look…” He trailed off, his mouth twitching like he couldn’t find the right word.

“Good?” she offered with a smirk, stepping closer.

“Better than good,” he corrected, “Way better.”

Her cheeks warmed under his gaze, but she managed to keep her tone casual. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, Buck. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do this sort of thing all the time.”

He huffed a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck, though the faint pink dusting his ears didn’t go unnoticed. “Guess I clean up okay.”

“Okay?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Try amazing.”

He ducked his head slightly, a rare but genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered, holding out his arm. “You ready?”

She looped her hand through his, letting him lead her toward the entrance. As they stepped inside, she couldn’t help but think this was already shaping up to be the best first date she’d ever had.

The table was in a prime spot near a window overlooking the city lights. Bucky pulled out her chair smoothly, motioning for her to sit confidently, making her heart flutter.

He settled across her with fluid movements. Despite the nerves buzzing in his chest, they were the good kind of nerves, normal ones. The kind that came with wanting to impress someone without feeling like he had to prove his worth.

He already knew her.

That made everything easier. There was no need to rack his brain for icebreakers, no awkward pauses to fill, no second-guessing every little thing he said. Instead, he could focus entirely on her: the soft curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, the way she twisted her hands together on the table when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And, maybe, on seducing her. Not aggressively, but in the easy, intentional way he remembered from a lifetime ago. A brush of his fingers here, a lingering glance there, the kind of thing that built tension without needing words.

If he was rusty, it didn’t show.

She, on the other hand, was a wreck.

Her posture was perfect, her smile warm, but underneath the table, her knees bounced faintly, betraying the swirl of emotions coursing through her. This was -and wasn’t- her Bucky.

The man sitting across from her wasn’t the grumpy, guarded man she’d coaxed out of his shell with patience and care. This Bucky was confident, deliberate. The way his piercing gaze lingered just a second too long, the faint smirk tugging at his lips when he caught her fidgeting, he wasn’t shy about letting her know she had his full attention.

And it was overwhelming. Not in a bad way -it was thrilling- but it left her feeling completely off balance.

She wasn’t in charge anymore.

The realization sent a wave of warmth through her body, leaving her acutely aware of every little detail: the way he leaned forward slightly when she spoke, the way his hand rested on the table, close enough to brush hers if she dared to reach out.

God help her, she thought faintly, swallowing hard. If this was Bucky now, she couldn’t imagine what Sergeant Barnes of the 1940s must have been like. A menace, no doubt. A walking, talking heartbreaker wrapped in charm and good manners.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and he gave her a slow, knowing smile, one that sent her pulse skittering.

She tightened her grip on the edge of her napkin, trying to will herself to relax. This was Bucky. And yet, sitting across from him like this, with the weight of his attention focused entirely on her, it felt like seeing him for the first time all over again.

When the food arrived, Bucky’s face was a masterclass of self-control. His expression remained completely neutral as the waiter arranged the plates with what could only be described as an air of reverence. He nodded politely when the man finished, even offering a quiet “thank you,” though inside he was already questioning his life choices.

Once the waiter walked away, he let his eyes shift to her, raising a brow to see if she was thinking the same thing he was.

Her lips twitched, struggling to suppress a laugh as she glanced down at her plate. The elegant presentation might have fooled someone else, but all she could see was what appeared to be a tiny portion of gnocchi, barely enough to feed a toddler.

Bucky’s plate wasn’t much better: three perfectly arranged sorrentinos, sitting proudly in the center of an artfully swirled sauce. It was the most stylish and inviting minimalist plate he’d ever seen.

He glanced back up at her, his lips twitching as her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“This…” she started, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle a giggle, “…this is it?”

Bucky huffed, leaning back in his chair as he gave his plate a long, scrutinizing look. “Guess we’re supposed to savor it,” he said dryly.

She bit her lip, trying and failing to stifle another laugh. “It seems they’re encouraging portion control.”

He scowled. “Didn’t know I’d be eating an appetizer disguised as dinner, goddammit.”

“I’m… I’m sorry! I didn’t know… they have such great feedback!” she groaned still chuckling.

“It’s my fault,” he muttered, spearing one of the sorrentinos with his fork and eyeing it as if it had personally insulted him. “For not checking the place out better.”

He couldn’t believe he’d hacked their system for this. He’d spent nearly an hour working around firewalls and reservations, all to secure a table at this supposedly renowned spot. It hadn’t even occurred to him to scout the menu or check the portion sizes.

This wouldn’t have happened to the old me, he thought bitterly, chewing slowly on his second overpriced sorrentino. His jaw tightened as the familiar ache of inadequacy crept into his chest.

She must have noticed the subtle shift in his expression because, without a word, she reached across the table and rested her hand over his.

“Bucky,” she said softly, her voice laced with gentle authority. “Don’t you dare take a ride on the self-deprecation train.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers with surprise, before relaxing his features.

“This,” she continued, squeezing his hand lightly, “is just an anecdote. Something to laugh about later, hm? It doesn’t mean anything except that we picked a fancy place with tiny portions. That’s it.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, flexing his fingers slightly under hers. Then, reluctantly, his lips twitched into a faint smirk. “An anecdote, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling now, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Something to tell people one day, how you bravely faced off against a plate of minimalist pasta. Now finish your last bite so we can leave and find something less fancy but more substantial,” she stated with amusement.

Bucky poked at the last piece of pasta with his fork, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Even the breadbasket was sad,” he grumbled, as he signaled for the waiter to bring the bill.

The waiter approached, and with a politely confused expression, he noted their early departure. “Would you like to see the dessert menu, perhaps?” he offered, his tone gracious but hoping to redeem the situation.

“No, thank you,” Bucky replied smoothly, his voice polite but final. He slid his card across the table before she could even think about reaching for her wallet.

“Bucky-” she started, but he cut her off with a quick shake of his head.

“Don’t even try,” he said firmly but light enough to soften the refusal.

She huffed but didn’t argue further, leaning back in her chair as he settled the bill. Once it was taken care of, Bucky stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with ease.

As they made their way toward the exit, he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door he opened for her.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, as she stepped outside into the cool night air.

“Only for you, doll” he murmured, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk as he shifted slightly to shield her from a passing breeze.

She stepped beside him, automatically taking the inner spot on the sidewalk as he steered her toward it and slipped her hand easily onto his offered arm

“So,” he said after a moment, “Any ideas where we’re finding this substantial food? Or am I winging it?”

She laughed softly, squeezing his arm. “Let’s see what’s nearby. Maybe we’ll find a place with a breadbasket that doesn’t make you sad.”

“That’s a low bar,” he muttered, earning another laugh that made his chest feel lighter than it had all night.

They ended up at a small, no-frills pizza place, tucked into the corner of a quiet street. The neon sign in the window flickered faintly, and the smell of melted cheese and fresh dough hit them the moment they stepped inside.

Sliding onto the high bar stools at a tiny plastic table, they both seemed keenly aware of how out of place they looked. Her dress shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights, and his perfectly tailored suit drew more than a few curious glances from the other patrons, who were clad in hoodies and jeans.

Bucky sat a little stiffly at first, as he glanced around. The contrast between this place and the upscale restaurant they’d just left wasn’t lost on him, but the casual atmosphere somehow felt more... right. Still, the attention made him uneasy, and he shifted slightly, brushing his vibranium hand on the edge of the table.

But then he looked at her.

She had a slice in her hand, the cheese stretching almost comically as she took a bite. Her shoulders relaxed as she chewed, and then she closed her eyes, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, locking his gaze on her as a faint flush crept up his neck. He watched her savor the bite, her fingers tapping lightly on the table to emphasize her approval.

In that moment, every awkward glance from the other patrons, every thought about his appearance or how ridiculous they looked, melted away.

All he could think about was her.

“Good?” he asked, unable to stop staring.

She opened her eyes, blinking like she’d momentarily forgotten where she was. “So good,” she said, curling her lips into a satisfied smile. “I needed this.”

“Glad I could deliver,” he teased, taking a bite of his slice after winking at her.

She shook her head with a small laugh, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “You know… I don’t get it. How did all your last dates go so bad, Bucky?”

He paused mid-bite, chewing slower as the thought crossed his mind. Maybe because I couldn’t stop bringing up my ‘mom’ in conversations like some kind of creep.

“Because they weren’t you.”

The answer came easily, effortlessly, but the way her eyes widened told him she hadn’t expected it.

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in his voice. For once, she was the one scrambling for words, the usual balance between them tipping in a way that made her pulse quicken. “Bucky…”

He held her gaze. “I mean it.”

She blinked, the teasing light in her eyes dimming as something warmer and softer, replaced it. Slowly, her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, fiddling her fingers with the edge of her napkin as she tried to gather herself.

“Well,” she murmured playfully, “I guess they didn’t stand a chance, huh?”

“Not even close,” he agreed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back slightly on the barstool. The suit jacket he wore pulled just enough to highlight the sharp lines of his shoulders, and for a brief moment, she found herself really looking at him. The paper napkin in his hand felt absurdly out of place against the polished, confident image he presented, but somehow, it only made him more endearing.

She reached for another slice of pizza as if that would help her steady herself. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t, because what could she possibly say to that? Instead, she glanced down quickly, busying herself with her plate and hoping he didn’t notice the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

When her eyes flicked back up, he was still watching her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. It wasn’t teasing or overconfident, just… him.

As they finished their meal, the buzz of the restaurant began to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them in their little corner of the world. Bucky leaned back, draining the last of his drink before standing and adjusting his jacket. He offered her his hand, his vibranium fingers catching the soft light. “Come on,” he said in an inviting voice.

“Where?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

“Just… a walk,” he replied, almost tentative “Unless you’re in a hurry to call it a night.”

“Not at all.” She promptly answered as she rose to meet him.

They wandered down the sidewalk unhurriedly as the night wrapped around them. The streetlights cast long shadows, and their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by the occasional laugh or lingering glance. For a while, neither seemed to notice the passing of time. But then a cool breeze rolled in, and he felt her shiver slightly beside him.

He stopped, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly, “I’m calling you a cab.”

She blinked, furrowing her brow . “What? Why?”

“You’re cold,” he said simply, his tone firm despite the regret in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” she argued, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her words.

“Doll,” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile, “you’re shivering. I’m not letting you walk around all night freezing.”

Her lips curved into a teasing smirk. “You could just lend me your jacket, you know. Like they do in the movies. Then I’d nuzzle into it because it smells like you, the usual cliché.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk widened into something distinctly playful. “You know, if you want to smell me, you can do it whenever you want.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, her cheeks burning as her witty comeback disappeared from her brain.

He chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction, but his expression softened as he continued. “You’re shivering,” he repeated. “I’m not about to let you freeze out here.”

She folded her arms, attempting to regain her composure. “I’m really fine.”

“Trust me,” he said, pulling out his phone, “if I gave you my jacket, I’d have to carry you home. You’d drown in it.”

She let out a small huff, quirking her lips into a reluctant smile. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I don’t want you giving me that sad, guilty look all night.”

“Guilty?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow as he tapped at his screen.

“Yeah,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “Like you’re already blaming yourself for the weather.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he finished ordering the cab. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

-----

As they waited, he guided her toward the side of the building, resting his hand instinctively on her lower back as he steered her out of the breeze.

“Thanks for tonight, Bucky,” she said softly, leaning slightly into him, guided by the warmth of his hand.

Bucky froze for half a second, as the closeness of her body sent his heart into overdrive. She tilted her head to look up at him, and she smiled, not quite shy but not entirely bold either.

For a moment, he struggled. His old-fashioned nature tugged at him, warning him to hold back, to wait. He wasn’t sure how these things worked anymore, not when it came to her. Did he ask? Did he wait for her to make the first move?

But then her gaze dipped just for a second, to his lips.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned down, giving her time to pull away.

She didn’t, parting her lips ever so slightly, and it was all the reassurance he needed.

Their lips met, and the world seemed to still. The kiss was soft, tentative, but filled with all the emotions he hadn’t known how to put into words. His vibranium hand slid gently up her upper back, steadying her, while his flesh fingers brushed the curve of her jaw.

She leaned into him, resting her hands lightly on the lapels of his suit jacket and the kiss deepened, just enough to send a pleasant warmth humming through them both before they slowly pulled back.

Her eyes fluttered open, and a small smile played at her lips as she whispered, “Took you long enough.”

He huffed out a low laugh as his hand lingered at her back. “Guess I’m a little rusty.”

“Not bad for rusty,” she teased, curling her fingers slightly against his jacket.

He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair. “You’re good for me, you know that?”

Her smile widened, and she nudged him gently. “I try.”

He bit his lip, glancing down briefly before meeting her gaze again. “Even without trying, these past months, they’ve been…” He paused, the words catching in his throat as he searched for the right way to say it.

“Good… in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Because of you.” He managed to finish the best he could.

Her heart swelled at the raw honesty of his voice. She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his chest. “You’ve done a lot of that yourself, you know,” she said softly. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

“Maybe,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost shy smile. “But you were there. That made all the difference.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over the lapel of his jacket. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he murmured, “Because I’m not letting you.”

They just stood there, the hum of the city fading into the background. The night was cool, but the warmth between them was enough to keep the chill at bay. Finally, he tilted his head. “Ready to go?”

“No,” she pouted softly, looping her arm through his with a playful glint in her eyes.

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, dipping his gaze to her lips again before he acted on impulse. His hand slid around her waist, gently pulling her closer as he leaned in.

This kiss was different, more sure, deliberate. His lips pressed against hers with a tenderness that made her knees feel weak, and she melted into him without hesitation.

When he finally pulled back, he let his lips brush against her cheek, trailing softly upward until they rested near her temple.

“Don’t make it difficult, Ma,” he teased lowly against her skin.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, as she leaned into him. “Not my fault you’re irresistible, sweetheart.”

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile against her temple before he sighed softly, resting his hand lightly on her lower back. With an easy motion, he guided her toward the waiting cab at the curb.

When they reached it, he opened the door for her without a word. She stepped in, pausing briefly to glance back at him. Her lips were still curved, and her warm smile made his chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” she said softly.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, a little rough around the edges. His gaze lingered on her, flexing his fingers slightly as if reluctant to let go of the door. Finally, he shut it gently, stepping back as the cab pulled away.

For a long moment, he stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching as the car merged into the traffic and disappeared into the city lights. Finally, he turned slowly heading home, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at his lips. For once, the night didn’t weigh so heavily on him, as he carried the lingering warmth of her smile and the memory of her kiss.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[mattslolita]

bitch from da souf - c. sturniolo

black!fem reader x chris, backshots, oral ( fem receving )

do not interact if you're a minor!

"i throw that ass back to see if he gon catch it."

"hello everyone, today we're filming-"

"it's the deaf, mute, and blind baking challenge, period!" y/n grins at the camera, causing nick to glare at her playfully and slap her arm, "nick, what the fuck?"

"that was supposed to be my line," nick said, a fake annoyed tone, causing y/n to roll her eyes playfully.

"anyway!" matt begins, already sensing an oncoming play fight between the two best friends, "we need to decide who's what."

"i call deaf!" y/n grinned, holding her hand up as she looked at the three triplets, "i have the best music taste, let's not even lie."

"facts," nick agrees, pointing at y/n, "let's be mute together."

"you both just want an excuse to listen to music and not do shit," matt muses as he crosses his arms, causing y/n to nudge him playfully.

"you just mad cause you not gon be my deaf twin," y/n shrugs comically, causing matt and chris to roll their eyes.

"i guess i'll be mute then," chris says, and y/n snorts, causing him to glare at her, "what was that about?"

y/n just shrugged, a small smirk on her lips as she helped set up the ingredients. "it's just about time yo ass is finally gon be shut up."

matt's eyes go wide and nick holds back a laugh, whilst chris pokes his tongue inside his cheek and shakes his head at y/n, going to stand next to her as he bends down in her ear. "i can think of a million ways to shut you up, ma."

y/n cheeks heat up, giving chris's shoulder a smack as she gestures to the camera that was currently recording them — he just smirks and goes to get a blindfold while nick hands y/n a set of headphones.

y/n and nick grin at each other as the both of them have their headphones on, chris giving them a look as he's helping tie the blindfold around matt's eyes.

"OKAY, LET'S START!" y/n shouts, clapping her hands together, as she moves to lean on the counter next to chris, "yo matt, open this shit up!"

"oh my gosh, it's our song!" nick says to y/n excitedly, causing the girl's eyes to widen as she grins widely.

"oh bitch, period!" y/n says, beginning to dance as in the party by flo milli is playing in her ears, "yeah bitch i got yo man, since you bad hoe, come catch him if you can!"

matt taps on y/n shoulders as the girl begins dancing. "Y/N, HELP ME WITH THIS!"

y/n turns to matt with a grin, still dancing as she's trying to read his lips. "NO MATT, WE NOT COOKING FISH!"

chris shakes his head as he watches the girl, ultimately deciding to go and help matt once he sees matt throw his hands up in frustration.

"DICKS UP WHEN I STEP IN THE PARTY, YO MAIN DUDE WANNA FEEL ON MY BODY!" y/n and nick sing, dancing with each other, "AND IF I TAKE HIM BITCH, I WON'T SAY I'M SORRY!"

"i do what i want, don't report to nobody!" y/n sings, dancing next to chris, shooting the boy a grin as he's trying to help matt with the batter.

"nick, preheat the fucking oven!" matt yells at the oldest triplet, causing him to look at y/n in confusion as he's still singing.

y/n goes and playfully pushes chris to side, beginning to help matt with the batter. "MATT, I'M GONNA HELP YOU WITH THIS BATTER!"

"i've been telling you to do that for five fucking minutes!" matt yells back to her, and oblivious to his obvious annoyed tone, y/n just smiles at him and gives him a thumbs up.

y/n's eyes go wide as she points at nick again, a big grin taking over her face. "THIS IS MY SHIT, STOP PLAYING!"

"PERIOD!" nick yells, pointing back at y/n, as she starts dancing rather provacatively.

"i throw dat ass back to see if he gon catch it, ain't athletic but it's tennis for the necklace," y/n raps, swaying her hips back and forth.

chris suddenly stops what he's doing as he watches y/n glide her hips back and forth in the open space near the oven and sink, nick hyping her up as she does so — he's also ignored matt's pleas to help as all he can focus on is the way her ass moves up and down as she's dancing.

"ay where that cash at, i stack it like tetris!" she continues rapping, now seemingly in her own world as she continues dancing, "real gutter bitch, real plugs and connections."

chris still had his eyes on her, watching the way nick and her giggled as she continued dancing — she accidentally bumped into matt, causing the boy to groan and shake his head.

"SORRY, MATT!" y/n giggles, hugging the middle triplet then ruffling his hair, and he pushes her off of him causing her to roll her eyes.

"FIRST I MAKE HIM EAT IT TILL HE LOCK JAW," y/n continues rapping, throwing her hands up as she round the kitchen counter, "GIVE IT TO HIM GOOD, KNOCK A NIGGA SOCKS OFF!"

"i run it up, they busy runnin they mouth!" nick raps with y/n, hyping her up, as she goes back to where is, beginning to throw it back again.

"I'M A REAL ASS, RICH ASS, BITCH FROM THA SOUTH!" y/n raps, as she swaying whilst chris was next to her, the boy having had his breath caught in his throat.

chris was well aware that y/n and him were only best friends, but it was hard to look at her like that when since they had first met he'd get so sexually frustrated around her. of course, chris never knew that y/n had always found him attractive too, and would have to refrain from being around him sometimes due to this fact.

like right now, chris had the strong urge to just bend y/n over the kitchen table and fuck her from behind, making her scream his name — he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts, going back to focusing trying to clean up the mess they made.

chris watched as y/n was still bopping her head to the song as she grabbed the tray away from matt, walking over to the oven — he watched the brownskin girl as she set the tray atop, then she bent over to open the oven.

he didn't even realize what he was doing until he reached y/n, gently taking her hips and pulling her ass to him in the hit it from behind motion.

"what the fuck- CHRIS!" y/n says, her eyes wide as she turns to look at him, shock evident on her face.

"couldn't help myself ma, with that ass shaking so pretty in front of me," chris whispers in her ear, pulling his bandana down slightly so she could hear him.

he gives her a wink and slips it back on, nick having watched the two with raised eyebrows. "great, now i have to edit that cause the fans will go crazy."

y/n felt her cheeks get hot at the action chris did, and the fact that he just walked away from her like he didn't just do that — the worst part was that she liked it, she wished he would've done more than that.

"FUCK!" nick yells, causing matt to throw his hands up in irritation, "WE FORGOT TO BUY FUCKING OVEN MITTS!"

"are you kidding me?" matt says angrily, taking his blindfold from off his eyes, looking at his brothers and best friend in shock, "who was in charge of that?"

the three brothers all turned towards y/n, who had finally looked up from where she had put the batch in, giving them confused expressions. "WHAT?"

"you forgot the buy the oven mitts!" matt says, throwing his hands up at her.

"shit, you said what, matt?" y/n asks with a sweet smile, taking the headphones off.

"you- just nevermind," matt sighs, running his hand along his face, motioning to nick, "nick, let's go and buy it real quick."

"fine, whatever," nick says with an eyeroll, taking the headphones off and pausing the music, "please don't do anything stupid while we're gone!"

"the fuck would we do?" y/n asks with a confused expression, and matt shoots her a look of amusement.

soon matt and nick are headed out the door, and y/n lets out a sigh — when she turns around, chris is standing right behind her, his usual smirk on his face as he looks down at the girl with hungry eyes. y/n's breath hitches in her throat at the way he's looking at her, causing her to back into the kitchen table.

"i was serious about what i said earlier, you know," chris says in a low rasp, putting both hands on the counter behind y/n, trapping her in between, "about knowing ways to shut you up."

"then why you ain't did it yet?" y/n challenges, feeling the pool already forming in between legs, as she almost lost balance.

"as much as i want to ma, i wanna have a taste of you instead," chris growls, his large hands going to grab the shorter girl and hoisting her onto the counter.

she immediately pulls him in by the neck and attaches her lips to his hungrily, both of them battling for dominance — chris pulls away slightly, his lips already red and swollen as he eyes the girl greedily, then he reattaches his lips to her neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it.

he reaches down towards the waistband of her shorts, tugging at it as it snapped, causing a low gasp to escape her lips as she squeezes her brown thighs together. "fuck, i need you so bad."

"lean back mama, i'm gonna make you feel so good," chris whispers in her ear, pressing her stomach back.

y/n leans back and scoots back on the counter, giving him enough access to practically rip her shorts down from under her — he was immediately met with y/n's already glistening pussy, causing his cock to stiffen at the sight.

"look at you, not wearing any fuckin panties," he chuckles lowly, spreading her legs apart whilst keeping eye contact with her, "such a pretty pussy, ma."

"p-please, chris," y/n whimpers, "i need-"

without warning, chris dives in between y/n's legs, not wasting time in licking a stripe up her sensitive bundle of nerves, emitting a moan from the girl. he greedily latches his hands onto het thighs, pulling her closer to him as if she'll somehow slip from his grasp.

"fuck chris, that feels so good," y/n moans out, throwing her head back as her hands find themselves tangled into his brown locks.

he continues pleasuring her with his tongue, burying his face deep inside her pussy as he flicks his tongue on it every which way — y/n lets out moans, filling up the empty space of the kitchen.

"oh fuck, you taste so good," chris says breathlessly, pulling away, his face glistening in her juices.

he dives back in, reveling in the sweet taste of her, knowing that nobody could ever make her feel as good as he is in this moment.

"chris, i-i'm close," y/n moans out, her head still thrown back.

this causes him to finally take his face out of her pussy, a smirk on his face as he does so, which causes her to look at him in confusion. "w-why would you stop?"

"cause you're gonna cum on this cock, ma," chris said, "now bend that ass over."

y/n obliges, getting up from the counter and going to turn around — chris quickly pulls his pants down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach as it leaks with pre-cum.

he lines himself up with y/n, using her juices as lube as he strokes it once, causing a groan to escape his lips and a moan to slip out her mouth.

"just put in already!" y/n begs.

chris grins as he slowly pushes inside of her, a moan falling from both of their lips. "fuck, you're so tight."

chris begins to move in and out of her at a slow pace at first, the soft slapping of skin can be heard — y/n moans at the feeling of her best friend going in and out of her, having been waiting for this moment for forever.

chris quickly picks up his pace, now slamming into her from behind — y/n grips the kitchen counter in front of her, her breasts bouncing as he fucks into her.

"oh my gosh, fuck chris!" y/n whines out, as he goes to attach his lips to her neck, one of his hands going to cup her breast as the other stays on her waist.

"fuck ma, you feel so fucking good around my cock like this," chris pants out, squeezing her nipple in between his index and thumb fingers.

"i-i'm so close, baby," y/n moans out, throwing her head back, "i'm gonna cum..."

"cum on my cock ma, give it to me," chris rasps, still pounding into her from behind.

y/n releases her juices onto chris's cock, moaning his name as she does so — that's enough for chris too, as he shoots his loud out inside of her, moaning her name as he does.

he helps the both of them ride out their highs, then chris pulls out of y/n, both catching their breaths as the reality of what happened sets in.

"fuck, i've wanted to do that for so long," chris breathes out, helping y/n put her shorts back on.

"you ain't know how long i wanted you to," y/n giggles, looking up at chris, "is this gonna change shit between us?"

"nah," chris says, smiling down at the girl, pulling his pants up, "but let's just keep this between us, alright?"

"you right, matt gon throw a hissy fit if he ever found out," y/n laughed, grabbing some paper towels to clean up the space they occupied.

chris sent a smack to y/n's ass, causing her to gasp and turn to him with a playful glare. "didn't you touch my ass enough?"

"who says i ever got enough of it?" chris grins at her, licking his lips as he walks over to her and squeezes her ass.

"yeah, you definitely an ass dude."

@luverboychris , @mrssturnioloo , @mattsturniolosleftnut 💕 gfs ily

omgggg look who finally wrote some more smut !!😩😩😩 i got hella requests too, so im excited for y'all to read that too ! im so sorry not uploading any, i've lost a little motivation for it, but im tryna bounce back.💌

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Black Widow

Pairing: Florence Pugh × Fem!Reader

Summary: Cooking With Flo is back and you make an accidental cameo that get the entire world to know about your relationship with Florence

Disclaimer: English is not my first language

MASTERLIST

Florence took a step away from her phone to make sure it was recording the way it should, her eyes studying the screen as a smile slowly formed on her lips. It took just a second for the comments to start showing up on the screen fast enough that she barely had time to read one before it disappeared to show other ones. She stayed quiet for a few more seconds to allow more people to start watching the live on her Instagram before she actually started talking.

“Sup, bitches? Here we are with another Cooking With Flo,” she said the famous words she always used to start her lives. She opened her arms as if to show the kitchen behind her and let out her raspy laugh. “Did you guys miss me? It's been a while, I know, but I'm back and this time we're making lasagna.”

For the last five months, she had done none of the livestreams cooking in her kitchen mostly because the space was a mess. The room was being renewed and, on top of that, she barely had time to do anything other than work and make sure people were painting the walls with the right color. But now she finally had time again, so that’s how she ended up standing in the middle of her kitchen on a random Saturday night.

“It's very simple, but it was a requested dish for tonight, so that’s what we're doing,” Florence kept talking, leaning back against the counter with her elbows to read some of the comments the fans were making. She saw a few questions, dozens of hearts, and some country flags, but her eyes quickly picked someone asking if there would be any guests tonight. “No, it’s only me cooking tonight, but I'm not alone.” Florence looked around and easily spotted her dog lying down a few feet from where she was standing. She leaned down to snap her fingers at him, which made him get up and walk towards her while wiggling his tail. Chuckling, Florence picked him up with some effort because he certainly wasn’t a small dog. “Billy's here! Come on, Billy, tell people hi.” The only reaction the dog gave was a low bark before he tried to lick her face. Florence moved away the best she could laughing at the same time. “Oh, God, you're getting too heavy for me to lift you, boy,” she complained and then put the dog back on the floor, where he wasted no time walking away to lie down one more time. Florence put her hands on her waist and smiled widely. “Jeez, guys. Well, let me wash my hands and we can get started.”

Florence had just turned around to go to the sink behind her when she heard a scream piercing through the house.

"AAAAAAAAH!"

The chain reaction was instant. Forgetting about anything else, Florence turned on her feet while yelling back: “Holy fuck! Babe?!”

The live kept going on her phone but the people watching could just glance at her wide eyes and surprised expression before she ran from the frame, the phone completely forgotten. They couldn’t see her anymore, but she didn’t wander far away. Just as she was about to get out of the kitchen and run to where she heard the scream coming from, someone came running from the hallway and almost bumped into her, making her stop.

“Florence!” You screamed again, although this time you were already pressed against her.

Florence instantly put her arms around you while her eyes tried to find the reason why you were yelling. She was trying to find a bruise, a cut, or blood of any type, but there was nothing on you that caught her eyes besides the sheer panic clear in your face. “What is it?!” She asked, though she was having a hard time even keeping standing since you were pushing against her as if you were running away from something. “Babe?!”

You managed to slip past her and go further into the kitchen all while using your hands to keep grabbing Florence’s shoulders as if she was the only thing keeping you safe. “Oh, my God! There's a monster inside the bathroom!”

Upon hearing that, Florence couldn’t help but blink in surprise, tilting her head to the side and trying to understand what you meant by that. “A what?”

It was her sudden change in humor that made you look at Florence with even more urgency. She was too calm, she clearly didn’t understand how grave that was. “It almost killed me!”

Your tone had the opposite effect, though. Florence kept looking at you for a few more seconds before her signature breathless smile cut the silence that had formed between you two. Her shoulders dropped, as did her hands to your waist, and she let her head hang for a moment to bask in the relief she felt for realizing there was no imminent danger as she initially thought there was. If it was anything as bad as you were making it sound, you certainly wouldn’t be acting that dramatically.

Finally, she shook her head and looked up at you again with a smile. “I'm pretty sure there's not a monster inside our bathroom. Haven't you watched Scooby Doo?” Florence joked.

It made you whine, however, because you couldn’t believe she couldn’t see the danger you were in. “Florence,” you complained.

Florence must have noticed you were getting mad for her lack of concern because she just chuckled again and approached you to kiss your cheek. “Okay, babe, I'm going to take a look,” she conceded.

Now more relaxed and with a pout, you nodded and let go of Florence’s shoulders so she could walk away from you. “Take care!” You yelled to her retreating form.

Florence kept walking until she reached the bathroom in the hallway. The door was open and the light was still on, but she poked her head inside first. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, so she decided to ask you again, keeping her voice loud and clear for you to hear her from the kitchen. "Again, I don’t think-” Florence interrupted herself out of a sudden when her eyes finally spotted the thing that had disturbed you. “Oh,” she breathed out.

Inside the kitchen, you were biting on the pad of your thumb as you waited for her. “Do you see it? It's right there by the sink!”

Florence smiled to herself while she saw the little spider weaving her web down peacefully as if there was nothing wrong in the world. “Yeah, I see it,” she replied with amusement clear in her voice.

“Take care!” You exclaimed again, but that was what finally caught the attention of the other occupant of the house. Billy, now alert because of the commotion, got up with his ears pointing up and started to go after his owner to see what was going on, but you quickly leaned down to scoop him from the floor. “Oh, my God, Billy, don't go there!”

“Can you bring me a bowl?” Florence asked.

“What for?” You frowned and moved the big dog a bit when your arms started to get tired. Maybe you should start going to the gym, after all.

Florence’s reply came quickly. “So I can take this little guy outside.”

You gasped in shock. “You wanna touch it?!”

The other woman laughed again. “No, that's what the bowl is for!” You rolled your eyes fondly at her teasing. “Come on, babe.”

You bit your bottom lip and looked around. There were several bowls around the counters that she had put there to put the ingredients while she cooked, but there was no way you would go back to that bathroom again when the life-threatening monster was still there. “I can't get any closer than this.”

“That's okay, I will go get it,” Florence soothed your nerves and, a second later, you heard her coming back to the kitchen.

You couldn’t keep Billy on your lap for longer so you put him down gently, only to have him running to meet Florence, who was just entering the room again. Florence was smiling, although she wasn’t making fun of you - at least yet - and she walked towards you to peck your cheek. It seemed like it was just a gesture to try to hide her smile, but you weren’t going to complain about it.

She had just turned to grab one of the bowls when her eyes caught her cell phone on top of the counter and she immediately stopped in her tracks as her heart dropped to the floor. “Oh.”

You jumped away from the counter like it was catching fire. “What?! There's another one here?!”

Florence’s gaze moved to you for a brief moment though she couldn’t stop looking at the millions of comments and emojis appearing on her screen for too long. “Uh, no.”

You followed her eyes and it was your turn to feel the dread inside. In your panicked state, you forgot Florence was doing a live. You hadn’t just interrupted it, you had walked on it. Literally. You could see yourself standing in the middle of the recording, Florence just a few steps to the side looking like a deer caught in headlights as her eyes kept moving from her phone to you.

People didn’t even know you existed and there you were now. People didn’t know Florence Pugh had a girlfriend. People didn’t know she was only making lasagna tonight because you told her that’s what you were craving.

“Shit,” you mumbled. “Oh, shit. I forgot you were going live.” You took a step back and put your hands on your face to hide the deep blush that took over your cheeks. “Oh, no.”

Noticing you were a step away from going on a full-on panic attack, Florence approached you and gently pulled you closer to her body. She tilted her head to the side to give you the perfect spot to hide your face in the crook of her neck and you took full advantage of that. There was no point in trying to hide now that the cat was out of the bag. People had seen you already, they certainly heard Florence calling you “babe” and saw her kissing your cheek.

You silently reached the same decision in the few seconds you stayed in each other’s embrace. When Florence pulled away, she held your face between her hands and offered you a smile that put you at ease instantly. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry, okay?” She winked at you. “I will be right back, let me just take out the monster for you.”

Florence kissed your forehead before grabbing a bowl and walking back to the bathroom. You thought about stepping away from the camera, maybe going back to hide in your shared room as you usually did when Florence was making content when you were around, but you barely had the time to think about where to go before your girlfriend was back in the kitchen.

“I'm back, folks.” she declared to her phone while walking to put the bowl inside the sink since she couldn’t use it anymore. After that, Florence turned back to face the camera and leaned against the counter with both hands, smiling. “It wasn’t a monster, it was just a little spider,” Florence told to the people watching the live.

Standing beside her, all you could do was mumble: “It was a monster.”

Your reaction dragged another laugh from Florence - the laugh that you loved so much, deep and husky, and that made her nose scrunch in that adorable way that always made you want to kiss her. “Thank God you're dating Black Widow herself, huh?” She nudged you with her shoulder, clearly teasing you.

Affected by her smile and her expressive eyes, you easily forgot there were literally millions of people watching you two at that moment. “I don't think that would be a reason to brag considering you would kill me in the end,” you replied, amused. “Besides, I'm not dating Scarlett.”

Her gasp was so loud that even Billy barked from where he was sitting staring up at you two. “Hey, I just saved you from a terrible monster!” Florence complained, although it was obvious she wasn’t serious. “Show me some love.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored. “You're right.” You nodded and leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “Thank you, my darling savior.”

Her nose scrunched again and a low chuckle left her lips before she pulled away with a more somber expression. She looked at you as if she was trying to hold a silent conversation and, gladly, you understood what she was asking without saying a word. You only nodded and braced yourself for what was about to come.

Florence returned her attention to her phone and her smile became a more practical one. “Well, I think you guys are a little confused. That's not how I planned for you guys to find out, but that's okay. We're just going to recalculate,” she chuckled politely. “In case you hadn’t realized it since this shenanigans started, this is my girlfriend.” Florence placed her arm around your waist, pulling you closer and smiling contently with her eyes glued on you. It seemed like you couldn’t look away from each other for a while, but she eventually returned her attention to the several comments popping on her screen. “Yes, I kept it a secret until now. And yes, I was intending to keep it under the rug for a while longer, but mostly because I did not want you scaring her away,” she joked since you both knew the reason why your relationship was a secret was because you were both trying to protect your privacy and your love from prying eyes. “She was the one that said she was feeling like eating lasagna tonight, actually,” Florence added.

You nodded, feeling more relaxed to be standing there now. “She got her grandma's recipe, I couldn't resist.”

“Since the cat is out of the bag…” She read a few comments, deciding to answer them as she went. “We've been dating for a while, yes. This is our kitchen, actually.” Florence pointed to something behind her. “Well, it’s still coming together. We still want to make some changes,” she relented since you both know none of you were satisfied with the place the fridge was placed. “Uh, she’s not an actress, if that’s what you want to know, another reason why we didn't say anything about us.” Florence kept from telling her fans what you actually do with your life, trying to maintain any sense of privacy still. “Yes, she knows my family. Guys, I will answer two more questions before we move on. Now that I saved her life and our bathroom, I believe Y/N wanted to take a shower before dinner,” she joked.

You laughed and agreed with several nods, also licking your lips to add to the dramatization. Your attention ended up going to one of the comments that showed up and you decided to answer it. “Billy ran to me at the dog park, that’s how we met,” you explained shyly.

Florence seemed happy that you spoke up, though, and she proved that by leaning closer to kiss your cheek for the third time. She then moved on to pick the last comment she was going to reply to. “No, she’s not going to feature in the next Cooking With Flo unless she wants to. Or unless there’s another teeny tiny spider forcing her to run to me.” She poked your side at the exact spot that she knew would get you squirming away and that’s what happened, of course.

“It wasn’t small,” you argued as your body moved away from her. “I'll go so you can keep filming.” You turned around to leave, but changed your mind last minute, choosing to say: “I'm sorry to crash in.”

“Don't need to apologize, babe,” Florence assured you firmly and, before you knew what was going on, she pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I love you, okay?” She whispered against your lips, making sure no one else could hear it.

“I love you more,” you replied gladly in the same tone before walking away. “See you once you get my food ready!”

Florence laughed while she watched you disappear from her sight and then looked back at her phone to clap her hands once and say: “Well, so let's get started!”

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.15

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: Y/n is invited of cooking with Flo and gets a little drunk.

Warning: Kinda cringe (I'm sorry)/ alcohol/ Swearing/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 790 words

Florence Pugh invited her on her cooking show. She was excited to go with her, she loved to cook, and she was friends with Flo. She brought Callum with her, and Callum brought Austin. When she arrived, she hugged Florence and took the apron that she gave her. It was a white one with pomegranate all over it. ‘’I’m so excited!’’ she squeals. Y/n chuckles and kiss Callum before Florence goes live.

‘’It’s cooking with Flo, bitches!’’ she puts the knife in the cutting board. ‘’And Y/n is here!’’ Flo exclaims, hugging her again. ‘’Hey everyone! How’s everyone doing?’’ they look in the chat for the answers and then, they look at each other before laughing for no reason. ‘’Guys, today we’re going to do chicken Cajun alfredo, or whatever the order is. But for the drink, I made Y/n’s favorite, a rum n’ coke!’’ she gives her the glass and they tap their glass together before starting to pace around the kitchen to get the ingredients. ‘’By the way, if you hear people talking behind, it’s my husband and my husband’s husband’’ Y/n laughs. Austin, Callum and Florence burst out laughing, Y/n is proud of her joke, as she joins the group laughing.

‘’So now the chicken is seasoned – ‘’ Y/n impulsive thought took control as she slapped the chicken, like she would slap someone’s ass. ‘’- Mate, what the fuck’’ Florence’s smoker laugh took over her laugh, which made Y/n laugh even more. ‘’How many drinks did they have?’’ Austin asked, chuckling. ‘’I don’t know’’ Callum laughed. Y/n was out of breath from laughing so much. ‘’Okay, where were we?’’ she laughed again. Florence took a sip of her drink before looking at her friend. ‘’We have to cook the chicken’’ she explained. ‘’Oh, we should put music!’’ Y/n suggested. Florence nodded before she hit shuffle on her playlist, the first song that came to their ear was Vente Pa’ Ca by Ricky Martin ft Maluma. ‘’I love that song!’’ Y/n exclaimed as she took Florence hands to dance. ‘’The chicken is going to burn, love’’ Callum warned. As Y/n lip synced, Florence quickly took care of the piece of meat.

The pasta was almost done, so was the chicken, Florence and Y/n had about 3 drinks, Austin and Callum’s cheeks were hurting from laughing so much; Y/n was unhinged. Every thought that went through her head, she shared it. ‘’I think I would’ve been burned alive if I lived in Salem when the trial happened, because I have great tits and an opinion.’’ She said, touching the side of her tits, laughing. ‘’I’m hot, they want to make me hotter’’ she giggled. Florence face palmed as she stirred the pastas. ‘’I think you had enough to drink’’ Callum laughed. Y/n nods in agreeing with him. ‘’We’re going to take a little bit of pasta water before dumping it. That’s the secret, pasta water!’’ Y/n exclaims as she takes a scoop of the pasta water. ‘’Someone in the chat said that Callum and Austin are the parents and we’re the children’’ Florence laughs.

‘’Ok! It’s done! Look at how pretty it is!’’ Y/n says as she shows the plate to the camera. ‘’Austin, Callum, come and taste!’’ Florence says. The boys come behind the girls, Callum puts his hands on Y/n’s waist, making her giggle. ‘’That smells amazing!’’ Austin comments. ‘’Yeah, it does!’’ Callum adds. As they take a bite of the food, Y/n and Florence looks at each other. ‘’It’s so fucking good!’’ Y/n exclaims. Florence nods and chuckles. ‘’Babe, you need to come on the show more often’’ Florence says. ‘’I’ll gladly come back’’ Y/n smiles. Austin and Callum take a bite at the food and smile. ‘’That is Gordon Ramsey level’’ Austin exclaims. ‘’It’s really good, oh my! I love it’’ he smiles.

‘’Okay guys, so that was cooking with Flo and Y/n, bitches! See you next time!’’ Florence says as she stops her live. ‘’That was really fun! Thank you so much for the invite’’ Y/n hugs Flo. ‘’You’re welcome here any time. Maybe with less drinks’’ She laughs. Callum agrees as he puts his arm around Y/n’s waist. ‘’Ouh! Next time we can cook shrimp tacos!’’ Y/n proposed. Florence nods as she says goodbye to Austin.

The aftermath of the video on the internet is good. People are saying that Drunk Y/n is unhinged, the fact that Y/n called Austin her husband’s husband is funny, Florence needs to invite Y/n again, Callum’s love contact is physical touch and many more stuff. Y/n was a little bit embarrassed about things she said, but overall she had a really great time, and she wanted to do it again…

[wandafiction]

Cooking With Flo

Warning: None, just pure fluff.

“Hey bitches it’s cooking with Flo. Today we are doing it Live so send your questions and I will see how many we can answer.” 

You watch with a smile as Florence puts the tip of the knife into the wooden chopping board smiling into her phone. You are standing behind the phone, off camera leaning against the kitchen island simply watching your wife as she flutters around the kitchen getting everything she needs ready. You had always loved watching Flo in the kitchen. She always seemed so happy and free, which made you happy and the smile on your face shows it. Your smile grows when Flo looks up from her task sending you a small wink then looking down to her phone chuckling to herself.

“Yes, the other Mrs Pugh is here with us today. Baby say hello to everyone.” 

“Hello internet.” You simply speak hoping the phone picks it up, as you want to finish your coffee before making your way onto camera, which you usually do as the food is in the oven to answer any fan questions. 

“Baby I meant come around and say…You know what doesn’t matter everyone is saying hi back.” She rolls her eyes with a giggle as she grabs an onion and puts it on the chopping board. “Okay so today we are going to be cooking something real simple. Chilli con Carne. Why you may ask? Well it is Y/n’s favourite and I thought I would treat my favourite girl.”

You smile, blowing her a kiss which she pretends to catch and put in her apron pocket. Taking another sip of your coffee you simply watch as Florence answers a few comments about upcoming projects, how she is and saying thank you every time someone compliments her. 

“So with the onion you just gotta take her bottom off, then take her top off.” You hold in a laugh placing your hand over your mouth as Florence seems to realise what she has said. She points the knife to the camera with a fake look of seriousness. “Cheeky, don't think like that.”

You shake your head taking another sip of coffee before it comes back out of your nose as the laugh you were holding in finally makes an appearance. As you choke Florence breaks out into a fit of laughter, doubling over as her arm wraps under her ribs, the other placing the knife back down on the side. You fan your face, the coffee leaves a painful sting in your nose, your eyes watering as Florence slowly crouches down till she is sat on the floor in tears of laughter.

“Oh-my-god…I…Can’t be-lieve you did that.” She says between her loud laughs as you continue to cough trying to clear your throat and nose of coffee.

You make your way around the island to where the tap is, quickly running the cold water and putting most of your face under it as you try to wash away the spat up coffee, completely forgetting that Florence is Live on instagram. You remove your face from the water, cupping your hands underneath and splashing the water over your face a few times before harshly rubbing your hands against it. You turn the tap off, shaking your head and hands to try and dry them a little before turning around to see Flo still on the floor in a ball of laughter. 

You lift the bottom of your shirt up to wipe your face dry, then pull it off chucking it on the floor deciding to deal with it later. The moment your shirt hits the floor Flo is quick to stand and jump in your arms causing you to stumble back a little as you catch her. You let out a small laugh as she mumbles against the skin of your neck, not hearing a single thing she said.

“Baby, I didn't catch what you said.” 

“I said you are on camera and no one is allowed to see what's under your shirt but me.” She whines softly, making you laugh more.

“Cuddle bug, they already know what it looks like ever since that video of you stalking me in the gym got out.” Florence's face flushes a bright red at the memory of the day she was posting on her instagram story and instead of putting the video of you working out on her private story it went onto her public one. By the time she realised it was too late and most of her fanbase had already seen you in shorts and a sports bra.

“Doesn’t mean I have to share you with them now though. And that was an accident.” You carefully place Flo back on the ground with a small chuckle as she pouts so you are quick to lean down and peck her lips a few times until she smiles. You make your way to her phone looking at the comments that are flooding in.

“See, the people want me to help you cook in just my sweatpants and bra. And if the people want it then there is nothing I can do.” You laugh loudly when Flo’s hand comes into contact with your shoulder bouncing on your toes to get away from her as she goes for another hit.

“Get back here Mrs Pugh!” She quickly chases after you as you run around the island, once stopping back in front of the phone as she stops behind it eyeing you up like her prey. 

“Hey! We are not children. We are respectable adults who just…well just…just chase each other sometimes.” You answer the comments that are calling the two of you children as the comment section fills with laughing face emojis. 

“I am going to get you.” You smirk at Flo’s empty threat grabbing her phone so you can put music on knowing the one thing that will get her to not completely beat you up in front of thousands of fans. 

“Sure you will, darling. Because you, Miss Florence Pugh, are the best runner in the Pugh household.” You squeal as Flo darts around the island just as you put her phone back down and the room fills with sudden music. 

After a few minutes of trying to chase you around Flo gives up and goes back to her cooking show, apologising to her fans for the unfortunate mishap of a childish wife. Flo looks up to you with a soft smile back on her face as she starts to prepare the meal once more. You smile wide as you see Florence swaying her hips side to side in time to the music singing every few lyrics, still a bit camera shy when it comes to her voice. 

You decide to take the risk of reappearing on camera in just your sports bra and sweatpants as you move to stand behind Florence, wrapping your arms around her waist as you place your chin on her shoulder; having to bend down a little to match her height. She continues to sway a little in your arms as you watch the comments roll in, smiling softly when you hear her voice become more confident as she chops a red pepper. 

You smile wide when Dancing Queen starts playing and you peel yourself off of Flo and start dancing to the beginning of the song, swaying your hips, as you move to wash your hands knowing Flo will need a hand in a minute to get everything mixed together. You start singing as you dry off your hands causing Florence to turn around and look at you with a wide smile, she had always loved your voice and loved when you felt confident enough to sing in front of her; and at this point her fans. 

You hold your hand out for her to take, which she easily does and you quickly pull her into you. You sing to her as you spin her under your arm, her smile and laugh causing you to smile widely and spin her around again. You pull her back into you, keeping her hand in yours, your other one landing on her waist as you sway the both of you side to side playfully and definitely not in time with the music. Your goofiness pays off as Flo pushes away from you before spinning back towards you, your arm ending up wrapped around her as you continue to sway.Her back is to her phone as you shout the lyrics to one another and start jumping around the kitchen in time with the music.

“You are the dancing queen. Young and sweet. Only Seventeen.” You pick up a wooden spoon holding it up to your mouth pretending it's a mic as Flo heads back over to her phone looking through the comments that are flooding in, they must be good because the smile on her face only gets bigger.

You sway your body dancing from one foot to the other as you continue to sing, pointing at Florence as you do so. “Dancing Queen. Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah! You can dance, you can jive!”

“Go Mrs Pugh.” You dance over to Flo as she cheers you on, reading some of her comments. “That's right, my wife can sing, dance and jive. She's the whole package!”

You grab onto her waist with your free hand spinning her to look at you, holding the mic between you both as you sing the last few lyrics to each other. “Having the time of your life. Ooh, see that girl. Watch that scene. Digging the dancing queen. Digging the dancing queen.”

You both laugh with wide smiles as you wrap your arms around her waist pulling her back against your front as you walk the both of you back to her phone. Her hands land on the table as you both look at the comments that are flowing in, most of them hyping the both of you up, some just many random letters.

“What does that mean baby?” Florence points to one of the many keyboard smashes and it makes you giggle.

“That my love is a gay keyboard smash. It’s a good thing, don't you worry.” 

“Hmm, is that like the whole gay panic thing?” You chuckle with a nod.

“Yeah most of your fans are gay my love. They are very jealous of me but also proud that I managed to get to you before some man did.” You see Florence roll her eyes on the livestream, squeezing her hips in response. 

“Well I’m happy I found you when I did Mrs pugh.” She tilts her head to kiss the underside of her jaw and you see a bunch of awws race up the side of her screen.

“I love you Mrs pugh.” You look down at her as you say it, making a toothy smile appear, her nose scrunching as you bring your lips down to hers in a small kiss, this time remembering you are live streaming. 

“I love you too Mrs Pugh.” She returns easily once she pulls her lips away from yours.

“Yes we love you all too.” You say to the phone as you see a bunch of pouting emojis, which have been deemed the Florence Pugh pout, asking if you love them to.

“Yes we most definitely love all of you guys.” You squeeze her hips again making her look back up to you.

“I am going to get a shirt on, and even though I love you very much I love food just that bit more and my stomach is crying out for it.” You say it with a smile so she knows that you are only partially serious because you do not want to be sleeping on the couch.

“Okay. go get yourself sorted baby, I will call you if I need help.” She quickly pecks your lips as you remove your arms from her waist.

“Goodbye internet.” You stroll out of the kitchen, smiling when you hear Flo start her show again before she calls your name and you look around to see why.

“The internet says bye Mrs Pugh.” You chuckle at her goofy smile as she holds the camera in one hand so she can get you in the frame as her face peaks up from the bottom of the camera.

“I love you.” You shake your head blowing Florence a kiss and sending the camera a small wave, laughing when you hear Florence shout back to you.

“I looooove you too, baby!”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[saoirse-ronan]

"Hey! This is Cooking with Flo, bitches!"

[argumentativeaxolotl]

MORE CARS HUMANIZED HEADCANNONS⁉️⁉️ REAL⁉️⁉️⁉️ NOT CLICKBAIT⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

Lightning McQueen:

- my man cannot cook for the life of him. Dawg was let in the kitchen once(one time) and somehow managed to burn the water. He can only make(and is only allowed to make) cereal

- he 110% had an emo phase in highschool/middle school and it was as every bit of painful-“it’s-not-a-phase-mom”-cringe you could think of 💀💀💀

- he really really really fucking likes Cheesecake Factory for some reason. Specifically their bread(it’s bussin) and the club sandwhiches(probably reminds him of Flo)

- he is a food black-hole. Like as soon as that shit is in front of him that shit is gone. And he can and will eat up to like three times his body weight 😭

- he got a shitty tattoo of his lucky sticker when he was first starting out as a racer and would not let anybody fix it up since it meant a lot to him and still does. He eventually offered for Ramone to fix it up, showing how much he trusts the man.

- he’s actually a very very good reader and loved books until Harv(bitch) knocked the habit out of him

Chick Hicks:

- he also cannot cook for shit, but he can make a few more things than Lightning and what he CAN cook actually tastes really fucking good. Like he makes basic ass things but he gives them ✨pizzazz✨ and that shit tastes better.

- he fucking hates traveling and often wishes that his racing job didn’t have him moving all over the country during the season. He’d much rather prefer to stay at home in California.

- he gets very twitchy and nervous whenever he’s traveling and constantly double-triple-and even quadruple checks everything he has to make sure he doesn’t forget something important. He just gets super nerved up and pissier than usual.

- he’s got a phenomenal sense of hearing. Like it’s very weirdly good. Like he’ll hear a fly buzzing around in a loud-ass room. His hearing is so fucking good, it’s considered nearly super-human.

- he puts rocks in snowballs.

- he legit starts fucking tweaking whenever anybody mentions the Camel Incident.

- he adores animals. Like he’s a huge animal lover and he gets it from his mother. His favorite places to visit as a child were any aquarium or zoo, only second to a race track.

Strip Weathers:

- he has a very very long criminal record from his reckless teen years.

- he probably would’ve been a horse girl.

- he knows what My Little Pony is.

- my man watches a lot of adult swim TV shows and he particularly likes the older Simpsons stuff and South Park.

- he had a twin brother. They’re fraternal twins and said brother is Cal’s dad.

- he has so many fucking random skills that nobody would necessarily need, but could… come in handy…?(some of them). He just has a list of weird fucking shit he can do well. He can play the harp, piano, and banjo. He can throw metal sticks and axes with weirdly good aim. He can also sing with his mouth closed, spin a pen extremely well with a variety of tricks, whistle with his fingers, moonwalk very very well, and speak fluent mandarin.

- when he was younger he studied all of the speed laws in his state- and neighboring states- so he could use loopholes to get out of speeding tickets.

- he’s the mom of every friend group he’s in. He’s prepared for everything.

[beetlecakes]

I’m unfortunately going through a Pixar cars hyperfixation at 19

So here’s some lightning McQueen headcanons bc i am mentally ill💅🌈✨

Bleach blond hair with dark brown roots

Grew up in a trailer park

I feel like lightning McQueen crocs would still exist and he’d always be seen wearing them after races

Constantly on Twitter

Like he’d get into an accident on the track and post sm like “I lived bitches” with a picture of him in the hospital bed giving a thumbs up

Would probably post on tiktok like grwm videos but the voice over would him being sassy the whole time

Would hide an injury not bc he’s embarrassed but bc he would literally forget to bring it up (me frfr)

Can’t swim

Skater

Will make fun of Doc for being old but will 100% love all of his music

Like he steals all of his CD’s and tapes

Loves taylor swift but won’t admit it

Cries when listening to mirrorball

Can’t cook

Takes lessons from Flo but much rather have someone cook for him

Horrible driver off the track

Always hits a curb

Gets speeding tickets constantly

Has made Doc a Father’s Day card before

[noturlondonboy]

No More Excuses//Katelena

Masterlist

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Summary: Kate Bishop enjoys a relaxed and well deserved Christmas with the Barton family and stays with them into the new year. But once she returns home to New York, she finds that someone had been waiting for her to get back from her holiday vacation. A certain Black Widow assassin.

——

Yelena Belova spends Christmas Day cold, miserable, and alone. The loss of Natasha sits heavy on her chest, and now that she has nowhere to elsewhere channel her anger and grief, Yelena has no choice but to rot in it. Or perhaps she can make an effort to befriend the newest Hawkeye.

Warnings: mental illness, medication, depression, anxiety, talk of character death, fight scenes, blood, gore, weapons, injuries, the Red Room, nightmares, angst, alcohol, harassment, intoxication, drugs, talk about/implied adult content, death, PTSD, trauma, assault, talk of overdose, talk of suicide, talk of self harm, talk of sexual assault, men being horrible, stupid lesbian pinning.

Status: ongoing

Intruder- But Wait, She’s Hot!

Déjà Vu is a Funny Thing, Funny Thing

Common Interest Between an Assassin and a Dog

The Angel of Death Made Me Bacon

Prison Sentence for Two (2)

What are You Running From?

Vodka Will Fix Us

Ice Skates Never Broke Any Hearts

When it Rears it’s Ugly Head

Knock-Knock, Boo! It’s Your Trauma

So Let’s Just Talk

Haunted and Preyed Upon

What Would She Think?

Homocide. Homosexual?

There is Room for Two Puppers in This Town

School Can Wait, Katniss Needs Cuddles

Abdominal Muscles = Kate’s Roman Empire

Leave it to Nintendo…

We Have Animals to Cross, Kate Bishop

Welcome to Cooking With Flo, Bitches!

But He’s Just Some Scrawny Irish Dude

All’s Well That Sleds Well

All Surprises are Unexpected

The Arrow Doesn’t Fly Far From the Tree

Steak Out

Bodies are Made to Bleed

Bandaids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes

Lavender Haze is a Privilege I’ve Lost

Dread- to Fear Greatly; Be in Extreme Apprehension Of

Ideals of Shame

When We Finally Blur the Lines

Honeymoon Phase

Hawkeye Adventures Montage

Tselovat’

Bare Your Teeth as You Bleed

Breaking Point

Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine

[togrowoldinv]

Cooking with Vogue

Florence Pugh x Reader

You’re there as Florence does her Vogue cooking video and photo shoot

Note: I’m just obsessed with this new video and photo shoot. Enjoy!

Florence Pugh Masterlist, Main Masterlist

“Alright Florence, let’s roll the cameras!” the director says excitedly.

You watch as Flo does her introduction. It’s your favorite thing to see her so happy and giggling as she does a variation of her famous Cooking with Flo starting line.

“Do you want to hand her the ingredients?” a woman asks you.

“Oh yes please, darling!” Florence answers for you. You agree with a smile.

As you hand her each ingredient from off the screen it takes everything in her not to turn and smile at you. She adorably puts the ingredients together and takes a break as the bread cooks in the oven. You stand next to her shoulder to shoulder.

“So, what did you think of the shoot earlier?” Flo asks you.

“The fish was a choice,” you say with a laugh.

“I knew you would comment on that!” she says through giggles. “I thought it was weird too, but the photographer was eating it up.”

You wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she leans her head onto your shoulder.

“But the gold dress in the kitchen? I know that one is going to need to be framed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. It should be framed and put on the refrigerator,” you say.

Florence chuckles once again and you love the sound. “I’ll frame it for you, sweetheart.”

Her bread is ready, and you leave her with a quick kiss to her lips.

You have to hold back laughs as she remembers her cilantro, knowing you’ll tease her later so you can see that pout and kiss it away.

“And now I’ll be dancing to stock music!” Florence says with the cute excitement she always has.

 They cut the cameras, but Florence keeps dancing.

“Come join me, my darling!” she calls for you. You grin as she dances with you and spins you around in her arms, holding your waist from behind.

“I love you and I’m so proud of you, Flossie,” you tell her, your head leaning back into her shoulder.

“I love you too, baby,” she says. She kisses your cheek. “Oh, were you videoing?”

“Yep, and it’s super adorable!” the director shows you and Florence the video of you two dancing together.

“I can’t wait to post this when the video comes out!” Florence cheers, her hand locked securely in yours.

You’re so proud of your girl and her two Vogue covers. You can’t wait to see where she goes from here.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @be-missed @mythosphere-x @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @laaurrel @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @flosbelova @ggrangerdanger @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @maia-lightwoood @xxromanoffxx @whitemanshoe19 @peanutbutterprincess @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @marie45019 @kacka84 @sammi1642 @hb8301 @the-night-owl-blr @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @red1culous @rach2602 @lovelyy-moonlight @idkjustliving2 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @belovaskitkat @itbeila @shin-conan-kun @notbornbutforged @makegoodchoices @theprinceofmarvel @blue-serendipityy @bookfrog242 @wizardofstories @karsonromanoff @natismywife @dumb-fawkin-bitch @wandamaximoff-simp

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Seeing her cooking just makes me so happy 💗

[yelenasdiary]

Hey

How about a moodboard for cooking with Flo?

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @jeyramarie | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145  | @sophie-xox | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @get-the-fuck-outta-here | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @sophie-xox | @fluffyblanketgecko | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @crescent-witch | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @a-dorkier-book-keeper | @hehehehannahthings | @blue-serendipityy | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @livresjaunes | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @shibugs | @livresjaunes | 

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Do you perhaps have any headcanons about New Mexico? I don’t see that much about him and he’s my home state so I’m desperate for any content lol (also sorry if it’s late for you cause it’s currently late for me but I don’t have a sleep schedule so-) but if you don’t, anything about Loui or Cal would be also be cool :]

Sorry m8 I don’t really have anything for New Mexico :( I do have some stuff for Cali and Loui tho :D

California:

He either was or is an e-boy. He has the f*ckin’ e-boy haircut too. :3

He’s a nerd and he loves books. Bro probably has an entire stash of books under his bed.

Cali pretends to hate Florida and Loui (mostly Flo though), but if anything bad happened to them he would never forgive himself.

This man can’t cook for sh*t. He’s okay at those microwaveable ramen bowls, but otherwise, he can’t cook and should not be allowed within 15ft of the kitchen’s entrance.

He has an orange tabby named Cassy and she is a dumb spoiled little bitch. She’s cute tho <3

LOUIIIII-[gets gunned down by marine corps] Louisiana:

Literally everybody loves Loui and tries to protect him, and what makes it funnier and cuter is that he’s completely unaware of the fact that he has an entire Loui Protection Squad™️.

Clumsy silly lil guy that always has bandages on his knees, face, and/or arms.

Florida makes it a point to tell Loui if he’s going somewhere cuz he knows that if he doesn’t tell him, he’ll panic. But nobody’s gonna know that Loui is panicking unless they look and see how shaky and fidgety he’s being. And if they bring it up, Loui will 100% deny the fact that he’s panicking. Even with tears in his eyes.

Loui doesn’t ever wish to hurt anyone, but at the same time if you hurt his loved ones, he will murder you and laugh like a psycho as he does it.

^Executing someone that hurts his loved ones? Yes. 100%. Getting revenge on the people that hurt hi- NOPE. He will NOT.

He’s gets anxious really easily, but mainly if there’s loud noise. So sometimes during meetings, if he’s not joining Florida in terrorizing Gov, he’s trying not to have an anxiety attack. I hc that Texas sits next to Loui (I think this is actually canon-), and Georgia sits across, so often they’ll be the ones trying to calm him down (Georgia holding his hands under the table and Texas hugging him a bit with his hand on Loui’s knee 😭).

[1000-year-old-virgin]

235 Best Songs of 2024

Jennifer Lopez ft. Latto - Can’t Get Enough (Remix)

X Ambassadors - No Strings

Rachel Chinouriri - Never Needed Me

IVE ft. Saweetie - All Night

VCHA - Girls of the Year

Tyga - Sensei

Camylio - High High High

Kučka - One More Night

Dua Lipa - Training Season

Artemas - Shall We Celebrate

Artemas - Ur So Special

Artemas - Too Slow

Kaliii - Bozo

Flyanna Boss - Yeaaaa

Aqyila - Bloom

Charlotte Lawrence - I Don't Wanna Dance

Charli XCX - Von Dutch

Conan Gray - Alley Rose

girl in red - Too Much

Ariana Grande - We Can't Be Friends (Wait For Your Love)

Ariana Grande ft. Troye Sivan - Supernatural (Remix)

David Hugo - Strawberry Ice Cream

Allison Ponthier - Skin

Miley Cyrus - Doctor

Flo Milli ft. SZA & Cardi B - Never Lose Me (Remix)

Halle - In Your Hands

SIA & Kylie Minogue - Dance Alone

Girli - Crush Me Up

Charli XCX ft. Addison Rae & A. G. Cook – The Von Dutch (Remix)

Flo Milli - Clap Sum

Doechii ft. JT - Alter Ego

Justice & Miguel - Saturnine

Benicio Bryant - Regina

Kiesza - I Go Dance

Inayah - Hot Sauce

Flo Milli - Tell Me What You Want

Amelia Moore ft. Timabland - Back To Him

Amelia Moore - Naked

Sasha Alex Sloan - Glad You Did

CXLOE - SHAPESHIFTER

Dylan - Perfect Revenge

Catty - Healing Out Of Spite

Amaarae ft. Aliyah's Interlude - Angels in Tibet (Remix)

Renni Rucci - Love You More

Tinashe - Nasty

Sabrina Carpenter - Espresso

Wafia - Background

Lucky Daye - HERicane

Boys World - Caught In Your Love

Flowerovlove - Boys

Conor Matthews - Burn My Bed

Leaf - Picky

BIBI & Jackson Wang - Feeling Lucky

Lay Bankz - Tell Ur Girlfriend

Rachel Chinouriri - Dumb Bitch Juice

JT - Okay

Rini - Miracle

Dua Lipa - Falling Forever

Dua Lipa - Happy For You

Dua Lipa - Anything For Love

Charli XCX - 360

Stray Kids ft. Charlie Puth - Lose My Breath

Jai Waetford - Touch

BlakeIANA ft. Moneybagg Yo - pricey

Jeremy Pope - U Lost

JT, Petey Pablo & Plies - Sideways Freek-A-Leek (jaybeatz - HVLM)

Jessica Baio - SLOW DOWN

Bazzi - FU

Normani - Candy Paint

Becky Hill - Lonely Again

Becky Hill - Never Be Alone

Becky Hill - Multiply

Max - Pinkberry

HRVY - Party In My Head

Artemas - I Like The Way You Kiss Me

Madison Beer - Make You Mine

Snow Wife - Wet Dream

Chrissy Chlapecka - Girlie Pop

Normani - Still

Kendra Jae - TTB (Top Tier B!tch)

Normani - All Yours

Normani - Lights On

Normani - Insomnia

Normani ft. Gunna - 1:59

Normani - Distance

Normani ft. James Blake - Tantrums

Normani - Little Secrets

BRONZE AVERY, Lilyisthatyou - Tiny Purse, Tiny Top

JORDY - Sex With Myself

Ice Spice - Phat Butt

Glorilla - TGIF

Dua Lipa - Whatcha Doing

UPSAHL - Summer so Hot

GloRilla ft. Megan Thee Stallion & Cardi B - Wanna Be (Remix)

Bree Runway - 2BADGYALZ

Bradley Gibson - NO ILYS

Robinson - Landslide

Flo Milli - Lay Up

Sasha Keable ft. DESTIN CONRAD - Auction

Camper ft. Ari Lennox & Jeremih - War

Coldplay - feelslikeimfallinginlove

Madison Beer - 15 Minutes

Alexander 23 - American Boy

Ariana Grande - The Boy Is Mine

Beach Weather - Hottest Summer on Record

Charli XCX - 360

Tink - Bless Me Don't Stress Me

Halsey - The End

LISA - Rockstar

Alison Goldfrapp - I Wanna Be Loved (Just A Little Better)

Griff - Anything

Griff - Hiding Alone

Lykke Li - Ring of Fire

Jordan Adetunji ft. Kehlani - KEHLANI (Remix)

Charli XCX ft. Billie Eilish - Guess (Remix)

Rachel Bochner - Groupie

Jessie Murph ft. Teddy Swims - Dirty

John Duff - Be Your Girl

Ravyn Lenae ft. Childish Gambino - One Wish

Ravyn Lenae - Bad Idea

Erika Jayne - Bounce

Kylie Minogue ft. Bebe Rexha & Tove Lo - My Oh My

Tinashe - No Broke Boys

Tinashe - Cross That Line

Tinashe - Thirsty

Meghan Trainor - Make A Move

Isabel LaRosa - Pretty Boy

Frost Children ft. Danny Brown - Shake It Like A

Kimbra - Back To You

Kimbra - Tethers

Katie Gavin - Casual Drug Use

Isaia Huron - Aisha Potter

Ice Spice ft. Travis Scott - Oh Shhh…

Flo Milli - Understand

Charli XCX - Club Classics

Charli XCX - Sympathy is a Knife

Charli XCX ft. Lorde - Girl, So Confusing (Remix)

Charli XCX ft. Ariana Grande - Sympathy is a Knife (Remix)

Charli XCX ft. Troye Sivan - Talk Talk (Remix)

Charli XCX - Apple

Charli XCX - B2b

Charli XCX ft. Kesha - Spring Breakers (Remix)

Charli XCX ft. Shygirl - 365 (Remix)

Charli XCX - Mean Girls

Latto - Settle Down

Latto ft. Megan Thee Stallion - Squeeze

Sasha Alex Sloan - Me Again

Sabrina Carpenter - Taste

Sabrina Carpenter - Good Graces

Sabrina Carpenter - Juno

GRACEY - Delirium

Megan Thee Stallion - HISS

Mallrat - Ray of Light

Ayelle x Tamaraebi - Presence

Halle - Because I Love You

Robin Thicke & DreamDoll - I Know What To Do (IKWTD) [Remix]

Katy Perry ft. JID - artificial

Katy Perry - Nirvana

Katy Perry ft. Kim Petras - Gorgeous

Katy Perry - Lifetimes

Katy Perry ft. Doechii - I'm His, He's Mine

Katy Perry - Gimme Gimme

Katy Perry - Crush

Katy Perry - Woman's World

JT - JT Coming

Tate McRae - It's OK I'm OK

Megan Thee Stallion ft. Kyle Richh - B.A.S.

Kimbra & Dawn Richard - The Moment

Isaia Huron - Smithson

Pale Waves - Not A Love Song

Nessa Barrett - DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

Biig Piig - Ponytail

Saweetie - Is It The Way

India Shawn - There Must Be a God

Culture Jam ft. Lay Bankz, Saweetie & Flo Milli - Pretty Girls Cry Too

Ari Lennox - Smoke

Phantogram - Ashes

Phantogram - Jealousy

Julia Michaels - Heaven II

Megan Thee Stallion ft. Flo Milli - Roc Steady

Mallrat & Kito - Hocus Pocus

GRACEY - Rhetorical Questions

Trevor Daniel - Tempo

Elmiene - Crystal Tears

Alice Chater - Don't Let My Boyfriend Get In Your Way

DeathbyRomy – BITCHFAMOUS

Tyla - Back to You

Latto - Brokey

Flo - How Does It Feel?

Flo - I'm Just A Girl

Khalid ft. CHLÖE - MIA

Flo - IWH2BMX

Flo ft. CHLÖE x Halle - Soft (Unlocked)

Ayesha Madon - Michelle Obama

Chappell Roan - Good Luck, Babe!

Nessa Barrett ft. Tommy Genesis - DISCO

Nessa Barrett - Passenger Princess

Omar Apollo - Spite

Omar Apollo - Dispose of Me

CHLÖE - Rose

Yseult - TUNING

Tiana Major9 - Alone

Kiana Ledé - Natural

Adam Lambert - Wet Dream

Victoria Monét ft. Usher - SOS (Sex on Sight)

BANKS ft. Doechii - I Hate Your Ex-Girlfriend

Nao - Elevate

JORDY - Drinking Of Me

Addison Rae - Aquamarine

Victoria Monét - 1900's

VITA - FADE

VITA - BUTTERFLIES

VITA - TOPS

VITA - SAYLESS

VITA - BESTOFME

Addison Rae & ARCA - Aquamarine / Arcamarine

Addison Rae - Diet Pepsi

Perrie - Forget About Us

Mabel ft. Ty Dolla $ign - Stupid Dumb

The Corrs - Breathless (2024 Warren Remix)

FKA Twigs - Eusexua (Anyma Remix)

Rebecca Black - Sugar Water Cyanide

Griff - Last Night's Mascara

Griff - Miss Me Too

Maleigh Zan - 8 Ball

Connie Diiamond - Messy

Ariana Grande - Yes, And

KATSEYE - Touch

Bree Runway - PAWZ

Emei - Rabbithole

Brooke Candy - Block

Amelia Moore ft. Absolutely, Samara Cyn & Coco Jones - See Through (Remix)

BIA, Lil Yachty - PISSED OFF

Blusher - Somebody New

Lady Gaga - Disease

Last Years (2023) List