Adorable Ending 💜💛💚

the honorary WAG - cl16

summary: yn has always been known as 'the honorary wag', since she's kika's best friend and adored by all the other wags, but what happens when the girls want her to become an official wag? a bet to get her and charles together before kika and pierre's wedding sounds like a plan.

word count: 6.9k + social media posts

folkie radio: i saw that video of alex and charles dancing at a wedding and i felt like i NEEDED to write something that involved charles and weddings, this was the result ! i really hope you like it (if you do please leave a reblog)

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 2,037,465 others

pierregasly Last night I proposed to the love of my life and she said yes. @/francisca.cgomes I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, I love you ❤️

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username1 OMFG

username2 NO WAAAAYYYYYYY

lilymhe CRYING RIGHT NOW 😭😭🥺💗

↳ username1 AHHH THE WAGS NEED TO BE BRIDESMAIDS

alex_albon Amazing news ❤️ ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc Wow I can’t believe my childhood best friend is getting married, you both deserve all the happiness in the world and I’m so happy for you ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 CRYING AGAIN

↳ username3 he needs to be the best man idc

username3 this wedding is going to be out of this world

francisca.cgomes IM STILL OVER THE MOON. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ♥︎ by author

↳ username5 KIKA IS GOING TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BRIDE EVER

landonorris YOO I CANT WAIT FOR THIS PARTY ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, yourinstagram, lewishamilton, iamrebeccad, oscarpiastri

↳ username1 LANDOOOO PLEASE

↳ username2 and i can’t wait to see him absolutely wasted

yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND IS GETTING MARRIED 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM CRYING AGAIN ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes

↳ username3 yn and kika are the it girls

↳ username4 she’s probably going to be the maid of honor im crying over people who don’t know me

liked by francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer and 65,826 others

yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD IS GETTING MARRIED 🥺 im so happy for you both @/francisca.cgomes @/pierregasly (even if that means that you finally stole her from me) let the wedding planning begin 🕺

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username1 congrats kika and pierre !!

username2 it girls ❤️‍🔥

carmenmmundt This wedding will be the best thing ever ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, iamrebeccad

↳ lilymhe I KNOW

↳ username3 i love that yn is not a wag but she’s loved among the wags anyway

username4 oh to be a guest at this wedding

landonorris Can I be a bridesmaid too?

↳ pierregasly No

↳ francisca.cgomes No

↳ username1 HEEEELP poor little lando norris 😭

francisca.cgomes I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SISSY 🥺 you’ll always be my wifey even if i’m married to someone else ♥︎ by author

↳ pierregasly That hurt

↳ yourinstagram OOPS

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gasly - gomes wedding 💍💍 groupchat

the bridesmaids 👯‍♀️ groupchat

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INSTAGRAM

liked by username1, username2 and 54,837 others

womenofthepaddock Kika Gomes (soon to be Mrs. Gasly), Carmen Montero (Spain’s national treasure) and YN (the honorary WAG) have arrived to the Paddock #SpainGP

view all 5,048 comments

username1 SLAYYY

username2 they’re all so stunning omg

username3 oh to be one of them

username4 i love how yn is really the honorary wag

↳ username1 she should just date someone from the grid atp ♥︎ by lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe, iamrebeccad

↳ username2 ALL THE WAGS LIKING THIS COMMENT 😭

username5 i NEED yn’s outfit

username6 get yourself a bestfriend like kika gomes who takes you to formula one races

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📍BARCELONA, SPAIN.

Every time you agreed to join Kika for her boyfriend's (and now, fiancé) races, the same question came to your mind: "Why is the paddock so confusing?"

You were currently trying to make your way back to Alpine hospitality, where you're supposed to watch the race from, but you kept getting lost. The maze of motorhomes, garages, and bustling activity was overwhelming. The constant hum of mechanics working, team members rushing around, and fans hoping for a glimpse of their favorite driver made it all more chaotic.

"YN, hey!" you heard a voice call out for you, turning around, you saw Rebecca and Carlos walking your way.

"Hey guys," you greeted them with a small hug once they approached you.

"Got lost again?" Carlos asked, and you remembered the time he found you in the same situation a couple of years ago.

"Yeah, this place is like a labyrinth. I have no idea how you guys navigate it so easily."

"Years of practice," Carlos chuckled, "Come on, We'll walk you to Alpine. It's not too far from here."

"Wait," Rebecca said before you could even start walking, "Why don't you come to Ferrari with us a bit, I'm sure Kika and Pierre won't mind."

Your eyebrows immediately raised at Rebecca's suggestion, noticing the teasing smirk on her face. She wanted to carry on with her (and the girl's) plan of making you like Charles.

Charles Leclerc, loved by millions, but you weren't quite one of them.

It's not that you actively disliked him, but there was something about him that didn't sit right with you.

Maybe it was the fact that every single time you've interacted with him ever since you started joining Kika for F1 stuff, he was somehow rude to you.

The last thing you wanted was to have an awkward interaction with him at the Ferrari garage, but you knew Rebecca wouldn't let you go that easily.

"Okay, fine," you sighed, "I'll come with you guys.

"Great! Let's go then." Rebecca's face lit up with a smile.

The three of you walked towards the Ferrari garage, the race wasn't starting for another few hours so you knew you were inevitably running into Charles once you got there.

"This is the perfect opportunity to clear the air between you and Charles," Rebecca elbowed you, almost making you roll your eyes, "Who knows? Maybe you have more in common that you realize."

"You and Charles don't like each other?" Carlos asked you, reaching out to hold his girlfriend's hand.

"Stop, It's not like that," you said, almost throwing your head back in frustration, "Every time we've interacted, he's been... dismissive. Rude, even. I don't know if it's just me or if he's like that with everyone."

"Charles can be a bit intense sometimes, especially on race weekends," Carlos pointed out, "But he's a good guy. Maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot."

"Maybe," you muttered, not entirely convinced.

You eventually reached the Ferrari garage, Rebecca and Carlos led the way, weaving through the throngs of people with ease. You tried to keep up, feeling a bit like a fish out of water in the sea of red uniforms.

You spotted Charles almost immediately, deep in conversation with one of his engineers and not even noticing that the three of you entered the room.

"Charles, hey!" Rebecca called out for him, you really admired her determination on the matter.

"Hey guys," Charles approached you, and you couldn't help but get a good look at him.

He might not be your favorite on the grid, but you couldn't deny that he was really handsome.

"You remember YN, right?" Rebecca asked with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Of course," Charles replied, a small smirk playing on his lips, "You're going to be Kika's maid of honor, right?"

"That's right," you nodded, a bit surprised he remembered.

Rebecca and Carlos exchanged a knowing glance before Carlos spoke up, "We need to go check on something. You two, catch up."

You shot them a look of disbelief, but they were already walking away, leaving you and Charles alone.

"So, what have you been up to?" Charles asked, leaning casually against the wall. "It's been a while since I've seen you around."

"Yeah, I haven't really been able to come to any races, I'm moving to Monaco, so that has been keeping me busy," you said, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Really? Which area?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

You told him the name of the neighborhood, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No way. I live there too. Are you the one who's been making all those moving noises two houses away from mine?"

"I fear that would be me," you laughed, feeling some of the awkwardness melt away, "I didn't know you lived there."

"Small world, huh?" he chuckled, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of the Charles that everyone else seemed to adore.

"Yeah, it is," you agreed, still a bit cautious but warming up to him. "Guess we'll be seeing more of each other."

"Looks like it," he said with a smile, "I mean, at least you'll have someone you can ask for a cup of milk when you run out."

As you continued to chat with Charles, you found yourself genuinely enjoying the conversation. It was a stark contrast to your previous encounters with him, and it made you question your initial judgment. His smile was warm, his laugh infectious, and the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rebecca and Carlos across the garage, watching the two of you with satisfied smiles and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at them. You were already expecting the girls groupchat to explode with messages about you and Charles.

"Looks like your plan is working," Carlos said to Rebecca, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Told you it would," Rebecca grinned, "The rest of the girls and I even made a bet."

"A bet?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yep," Rebecca confirmed, a playful glint in her eyes. "We bet on getting them together before Pierre and Kika's wedding. We all agree they'd make a great match."

"You and your schemes, amor," Carlos chuckled, shaking his head, "But I have to admit, you might be onto something."

Rebecca leaned her head on Carlos's shoulder, watching you and Charles laugh together. "Trust me, Carlos. Sometimes people just need a little nudge in the right direction."

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INSTAGTAM

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 70,002 others

yourinstagram back on the f1 gig and reunited with my girls 🤍 the last slide shows how much the soon to be married couple loves each other

tagged: francisca.cgomes, pierregasly, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and iamrebeccad

view all 3,987 comments

username1 SLAYYY

username2 the honorary WAG for real

carmenmmundt I missed you so much 🫶 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram same here 🥲

f1gossip We love the WAGS (and yn) being besties

↳ username1 they need a masterplan to make yn a wag ♥︎ by iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes

pierregasly My fiancée loves me 🥰

↳ francisca.cgomes more like tolerates

↳ yourinstagram she’ll always love me more

lilymhe bridesmaids gang 👯‍♀️ ♥︎ by author

↳ landonorris Am I still not allowed in the gc?

↳ francisca.cgomes exactly

↳ username2 HEEEEEELP

charles_leclerc Lovely to catch up. See you around in Monaco 😉 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram likewise 😊

↳ username1 HELLOOOO???

↳ username2 SOMEONE DECODE THIS

↳ username3 i think this is the first time i see charles and yn interact 😭😭

iamrebeccad My job here is done

↳ carlossainz55 😂😂😂

↳ yourinstagram never trust the sainz-donaldson couple…

↳ username1 WHATS GOING ON HERE

↳ username2 lord i’m so nosy i need to be part of their friendgroup

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📍MONTE CARLO, MONACO

Living alone it's all fun and games until you get locked out of your house after a quick run to the store for some late night snacks.

You stood there, staring at your sophisticated security system installed in all the houses in your upscale Monaco neighborhood —one that was definitely too expensive for you, but you were grateful the company you worked for paid for your rent — feeling utterly defeated.

The high-tech lock had its advantages, but it also meant that once you were locked out, getting back in without a key was next to impossible.

Sighing, you pulled out your phone and texted Kika, hoping she might be able to help.

You frowned at the suggestion. Asking Charles for help wasn’t your first choice, especially given your rocky interactions in the past. And yes, maybe you had a great conversation in Barcelona but that didn't mean that he suddenly liked you and would be willing to help you.

What if he's busy? Or thinks you're stupid for locking yourself out of your own house? What if this is all part of the girl's plan of setting you up with a driver?

Were some thoughts that ran through your head as you stood in your porch. But with no other options, you pushed them away and sent him a message.

You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. Asking Charles, someone who you disliked from time to time and thought he hated you just a few weeks ago for help wasn't on your bingo card, but there you were waiting for him to show up.

True to his word, Charles arrived shortly, wearing a casual outfit that made him look really comfy, and you prayed that you didn't disturb him too much with your antics.

"Locked out, huh?" he said with a grin.

"Yeah, stupid me forgot the keys inside," you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"No worries, happens to the best of us," he said, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket. "I actually learned a trick for these locks. All the houses here have the same system, and I’ve had my fair share of lockouts."

You watched as he worked with the keys and the lock, not sure of what he was doing but trusting his word that he knew how to unlock it. After what it seemed like a minute, your door unlocked with ease.

"Thank you so much, Charles. You saved me," you said, letting out a sigh of relief, "And I'm really sorry that I bothered you, you must've been busy or just resting and I made you get out of the house."

"Hey, It's okay," he said, flashing you a warm smile, "Told you could shout if you needed a spare cup of milk, or in this case, a way into your house."

"Thank you a lot, really."

You smiled softly as you both stood on your porch, and he mirrored your gesture. You looked at his features for a moment, his eyes were soft and a beautiful shade of green and blue, he looked extremely cozy clad in his hoodie and joggers.

Ugh why are you even thinking about Charles Leclerc like that? The voice inside your head came out again. And you didn't have an answer for it, but you pushed the thought away and focused on the present moment.

"So, how's the unpacking going?" Charles said after a minute of silence.

"It's getting there. Still a lot to do," you shrugged.

"Well, if you need any help, just let me know," he offered. "I'm pretty handy with setting up furniture and stuff."

"I might take you up on that," you said, and you fell into silence again.

And that's when you realized that for some reason, you didn't want the interaction to end, and something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he didn't want it either.

"How about you come in for a cup of tea?" you suggested without even taking a spare second to think about it, "As a thank you for helping me out, I mean."

He looked pleasantly surprised. "I'd really like that. Thanks."

You led him inside, quickly tidying up a few stray boxes before boiling water for tea. Once it was ready, you both sat down with steaming cups of tea, and you started talking about the topic that was inevitable among the grid and friends: Pierre and Kika's upcoming wedding.

"Can you believe they're getting married?" you asked, stirring your tea.

"I know, right?" Charles replied with a chuckle. "Pierre's been so excited. He talks about it all the time."

"They're such a great couple," you said, smiling. "Kika has been my best friend for years. I couldn't be happier for her."

"Yeah, Pierre is like a brother to me," Charles added, his expression softening. "He deserves all the happiness in the world."

You took a sip of your tea, feeling the warmth spread through you, "They deserve each other."

"By the way," Charles said, setting down his cup, "have you thought about what you’re going to wear?"

"I’ve been stressing over it," you laughed, "I want to find something perfect, and I feel like I'm running out of time."

"I’m sure whatever you choose will be great," he said reassuringly. "You have good taste."

"Thanks," you said, feeling a bit flustered by the compliment. "What about you? Got your outfit ready?"

"Not at all," he replied with a grin. "You know, since you're the maid of honor and I'm the best man, we should coordinate our outfits," he suggested with a playful smile. "Imagine how great we'll look standing next to Pierre and Kika if we match."

You laughed at the idea. "Maybe we should. It would make for some great photos."

"I can already see it now," Charles chuckled, "The perfect duo."

The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying Charles's company. He was funny, engaging, and far from the dismissive person you initially thought he was. You talked about everything from the wedding to your favorite places in Monaco, your work, his feelings about the F1 season so far and you couldn't help but think about how much the girls would freak out if they saw you talking and engaging the way you were.

Maybe they were right about you and Charles getting along well, but they're wrong about you possibly dating him, because you weren't looking for that, you thought to yourself again.

As the night drew to a close, Charles stood up to leave. "Thanks for the tea and the company, YN. I’m surprised we never got to talk like this before."

"Me too," you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt for your previous judgments about him. "I'm glad we did, though. And thank you again for helping me tonight, you were kind of my savior."

"Stop thanking me, you already did it like ten times," he said as you both walked to the door. "Are you going to the race in Austria this weekend?"

"I wasn’t planning on it," you said, "Kika's not going, and I usually go with her."

"Well, you could be my guest this time," he offered, a hopeful look in his eyes. "It could be fun."

You blinked, taken aback by his offer. "Are you serious?" you asked, needing to be sure you heard him right.

"Absolutely," Charles said, his tone sincere, "I know you're good friends with the girls and you love hanging out with them. It would be fun, and I'd love to have you there."

Your mind raced. When you left your house a few hours ago you never expected to get locked out which would lead to end your night with an invitation from Charles Leclerc to the Austrian Grand Prix, offering you a chance to spend time together at a race.

The wheels in your brain turned, making you unsure of your answer, when deep down you knew you wanted to take on his offer and go to Austria. You loved attending races and being around everyone in the F1 world, at first it was just something you did with Kika because of her boyfriend, but now it was something you enjoyed a lot.

Plus, you had to admit, the idea of spending more time with Charles was becoming increasingly appealing.

On the other hand, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt in the back of your mind. Was this just Charles being nice? Or what if the girls had put him up to this in another attempt to set you two up? You didn't want to complicate things somehow, especially with Pierre and Kika's wedding on the horizon.

Realizing you had been silent for a moment too long, you looked at Charles, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation, and maybe you were crazy, but something in his face told you that he wanted you to say yes.

"That sounds amazing, Charles," you said, a small smile playing on your lips, "But… can I think about it? It sounds fun but I want to make sure I can make it work with my schedule."

"Of course," he replied with a nod, not pushing you for an immediate answer, "Just let me know soon so I can make the arrangements if you decide to come. I'd really like to have you there."

"Thanks, Charles," you said, feeling a warmth in your chest at his genuine interest. "I'll let you know soon."

"Great," he said, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter a little. "Goodnight, YN."

"Goodnight, Charles," you replied, watching as he walked away.

As you closed the door, you had one thought running through your head: the bridesmaids groupchat is about to go crazy

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the bridesmaids 👯‍♀️ groupchat

charles and yn texts

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📍SPIELBERG, AUSTRIA

The Austrian GP weekend had been eventful so far to say the least. When you arrived on friday, you expected to catch an Uber to your hotel, or for someone sent by Charles to pick you up.

But turns out, Charles himself was standing there as you walked through the gates, waiting for you with a warm smile.

None of the girls ended up attending the GP, so you spent most of your time with Charles. It felt strange at first, since you had never spent much time interacting with him before, but you'd be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it.

Despite the friendly atmosphere off the track, it was a tough weekend for Charles competitively. His car had plenty of complications, from engine issues to problematic tires, which led him to a bad result on Sunday.

With that excuse, you suggested buying him dinner. You thought it would be a good way to cheer him up and to thank him for the weekend. It was friendly and casual.

You decided to have room service in his hotel room, neither of you in the mood to go outside, so you ordered a couple of pizzas, a bottle of wine and desert.

As the room service cart rolled in, you both laughed at how much food you had ordered. "I think our eyes were bigger than our stomachs," Charles said, eyeing the spread.

"Well, we have all night to work through it," you replied with a grin.

You both settled on the couch, the boxes of pizza open in front of you and glasses of wine in hand. If someone had told you a few months ago that you would be in this context with Charles Leclerc you'd laughed at them.

You knew the girls would have a field day when they found out.

"I'm really glad you came this weekend," Charles said after chewing on his slice of pizza, "It's been nice having you around."

"I'm glad I came too," you said, smiling back. "I didn't realize how much fun it would be. I always come to the races with Kika so this was different. Thank you again for asking me."

"I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about asking you," Charles took a sip of his wine, "I wasn't sure if you'd want to spend time with me."

You almost tensed at his words. All this time, you had assumed he disliked you because he had been rude or dismissive in your past interactions. But maybe it had all been a misunderstanding, like Kika had told you multiple times.

Damn you hated when she was right.

"Why wouldn't I?" you partially knew the answer, but you still wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I don't know. I guess I always thought you didn't like me much," he shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I thought the same thing about you," you laughed softly, "I figured you were being rude because you didn't like me."

"I never meant to be rude to you, at least not intentionally," Charles shook his head, "I'm really sorry if I ever was."

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "It's okay, Charles. I guess we both just misunderstood each other."

"I'm glad we cleared that up," Charles gave a relieved smile, "It feels good to finally talk about it. Honestly, with the wedding coming up and the roles we're playing in it, I was nervous about the entire thing being awkward."

"We're good now," you said, feeling a genuine warmth spread through you. "And now I can join you in suit shopping without it being awkward."

Charles laughed, a sound that was starting to become one of your favorites. "Oh yeah, we still have to do that. We're definitely matching."

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INSTAGTAM

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yourinstagram lots of red and lots of room service ❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc

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username1 SLAYYYY

username2 CHARLES AND YN???

lilymhe The one time we all decide to skip the GP… ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt

↳ lilyzneimer literally

↳ iamrebeccad 😭

↳ username1 WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT LET ME INNNNNNNNNN

pierregasly I guess you don’t need me for paddock passes anymore ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram i’ve never needed you that was always kika

username3 wait are her and charles together ??

↳ username4 they could be friends chill

username5 yn finally becoming a wag??? the masterplan worked ♥︎ by iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe

↳ username1 ALL OF THE WAGS HERE AGAIN 😭

charles_leclerc Always a pleasure 🤍 ♥︎ by author

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gasly - gomes wedding 💍💍 groupchat

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📍MONTE CARLO, MONACO

"Charles you literally just passed me."

"Did I? Oh, I see you now," Charles said as he spotted you walking towards his car, hanging up the phone and parking so you could get in.

You got into the passenger seat, clicking your seat belt and dropping your hands to your lap, "Hello there."

"Hi love," Charles leaned in to peck your cheek, "How was work?"

This was routine by now. After your time alone in Austria, you and Charles couldn't stop hanging out. He picked you up from work, you cooked dinner for both of you, you had sitcom marathons together and so on.

It felt nice.

"It was meh," you shrugged, "My day is about to get interesting, though, isn't it?"

"If you find looking at ties and shirts for hours any amusing, then yes it is."

Today was the day you and Charles had been talking about for so long, you'd get his outfit for the Gasly-Gomes wedding.

You got your dress already, it was a beautiful satin green dress you absolutely loved. Since Charles was away racing when you bought it, you showed it to him through FaceTime and he insisted he needed to get the perfect suit to match it.

"It's going to be fun," you poked his side as he drove, "But we do need to find the perfect fit, Kika is going to kill us if we ruin her pictures."

"I mean you're going to look stunning so I just need to stand next to you and hope it rubs on me," he shrugged, and you felt your cheeks burn.

Charles made a habit out of complimenting you at this point, and even though you didn't want to think too much about it, you found yourself melting every single time.

"Feeding my ego again, Leclerc?" you teased.

"Just stating the obvious."

You engaged in small conversation as he drove to the boutique you've previously picked as your first option. One of the things about your unexpected friendship with Charles that you loved the most was how easy it is to talk to him about anything. It was easy, comfortable, and it made you realize just how much you enjoyed his company.

When you arrived at the boutique, Charles opened the door for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.

Inside, the boutique was filled with racks of elegant suits and dresses. A sales assistant approached you, and you explained what you were looking for. She guided you to a section with suits that could match what you needed.

Charles began browsing through the racks, holding up different jackets and shirts for you to see. After some deliberation, Charles found a suit that caught his eye.

"Try it on," you urged him, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Charles disappeared into the fitting room, and you waited eagerly. When he emerged, your breath caught in your throat. The suit fit him perfectly, making him look even more handsome than usual.

Since when were you this down for this man?

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to look at himself in the mirror.

"It's perfect," you said, "You look amazing, Charles."

He grinned, clearly pleased with your approval, "You think I look amazing, huh?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Leclerc," you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile.

With the suit sorted, you moved on to finding the perfect tie. After a bit of searching, you found one that matched your dress perfectly. You held it up for Charles to see, and he nodded in approval.

"Looks great. Now, help me put it on?" he asked, a hint of playfulness in his eyes.

"Sure," you said, stepping closer to him.

As you worked on his tie, you realized just how close you were standing. Your hands moved deftly, but your heart raced with the proximity. You could feel Charles's breath on your face, and you couldn't help but glance at his lips every now and then. His eyes were fixed on you, a soft intensity in them that made your knees feel weak.

"There," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "all done."

But neither of you moved. Your faces were inches apart, and the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity. You noticed Charles glancing at your lips, and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"Shame on Kika and Pierre," Charles said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll definitely be the best-looking pair at the wedding."

You laughed lightly, the tension easing just a bit. "Absolutely. They'll have to step up their game."

Charles's hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender it made your heart flutter even more. "Thanks for helping me with this," he said, his voice sincere.

"Anytime," you replied, your voice equally soft.

You lingered a moment longer. It was just you and Charles, standing so close, sharing a moment that felt incredibly intimate. Eventually, you both stepped back, a silent understanding passing between you.

You really wanted him to kiss you

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INSTAGRAM

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yourinstagram two weeks away from the gasly-gomes wedding: the happy couple, suit picking, speech writing and last girls trip as single ladies 🥲

tagged: fracisca.cgomes, pierregasly, charles_leclerc, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt

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username1 THE WEDDING IS SO SOOOOON

username2 BOYFRIEND CHARLES CONTENT JUST DROPPED

↳ username1 omfg are they together ???

iamrebeccad 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lilymhe “last girls trip as single ladies” and you’re the only one who’s actually single (not for long tho) ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, iamrebeccad

↳ username1 LILY😭

↳ yourinstagram 🙄🙄🙄🙄

username3 we love the honorary wag

username4 charles in a suit i’m going insane

landonorris Can’t wait for the most alcoholic weekend of the year ♥︎ by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lancestroll

↳ pierregasly I’m terrified already

charles_leclerc Best man and maid of honor, match made in heaven ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 CHARLESSSSS

↳ francisca.cgomes you’re welcome

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the bridesmaids 👯‍♀️ groupchat

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📍PORTOFINO, ITALY

The most awaited weekend of the year was finally here, the Gasly-Gomes wedding bound was in full swing. Guests arrived to Portofino from all over, their excitement palpable as they gathered to celebrate the love between Pierre and Kika.

Despite Charles' attempts to convince you to fly with him, you were firm on your decision of flying with Kika, you knew how nervous she felt and you wanted to be by your best friend's side for the most important moment of her life.

However, you were attending the rehearsal dinner together. Which had caused a commotion with the girls earlier in the week.

Their so called plan of getting me a boyfriend from the grid won't work, you thought to yourself, I'm not even looking for a boyfriend, Charles is my friend.

The rehearsal dinner was set in a beautiful, intimate restaurant overlooking the sea, and you were waiting for Charles at the hotel's reception to leave together. You smoothed out your dress, glancing at the grand clock on the wall, you felt a bit nervous, which only made you think about Kika and the fact that she was probably a million times more anxious.

"Hey there," Charles's voice broke through your thoughts. You turned to see him approaching, looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit, "Mon Dieu, you look insanely gorgeous."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words. "Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself."

He grinned, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

You linked your arm with his, and together you made your way to the car waiting outside. The drive to the restaurant was filled with light conversation and laughter. Charles had a way of making you feel at ease, and tonight was no different.

As you arrived at the venue, the soft glow of candles and string lights illuminated the setup. Tables were adorned with flowers, and the sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop. You could see Pierre and Kika at the entrance, greeting guests with radiant smiles.

You were really happy for them.

"Let's go say hi," Charles suggested, leading you towards the happy couple.

"You both look amazing!" Kika exclaimed once you approached them, hugging you tightly. "Thank you for being here."

Pierre soon joined, greeting both you and Charles with a warm smile. "Thanks for keeping her sane on the flight here," he joked, giving Kika a playful nudge.

"It's the least I can do, you already stole her from me ," you said with a grin.

"I promise to share her from time to time." Pierre joked, making all of you laugh.

The four of you exchanged a few more words before making your way into the venue. The atmosphere inside was magical, the soft hum of conversation and laughter filled the air.

You really could feel the love and excitement radiating from everyone present.

You made your way towards the table, noticing Lando by the bar already. You couldn't help but giggle, he was dead serious about going all out with the alcohol this weekend.

You settled into your seats, Charles opening your chair for you before sitting down. You were at a big table where most drivers and their partners were already settled, Carmen and George next to you and Max and Kelly on Charles' side.

Damn, you were really the honorary WAG

"What?" you said, noticing Carmen's teasing smile as she glanced at you and Charles.

"Oh nothing," she shrugged, "You guys look really cute together."

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "Thanks, Carmen," you replied, trying to brush off her comment. "We're here as friends."

"Sure, sure," Carmen said with a wink, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence.

The evening flowed smoothly, the conversations lively and the laughter contagious. As you sipped on your champagne, you couldn't help but steal glances at Charles. He seemed so at ease, laughing and joking with the others, his eyes occasionally meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

Dinner was served, a spread of Italian cuisine that had everyone praising the chefs. You and Charles shared bites of each other's dishes, a habit that had become second nature.

After dinner, it was time for the speeches. Since you were best man and maid of honor, you came up with the idea of surprising Kika and Pierre with heartfelt messages, which lead you to nights of takeout at his place to help each other write your speeches.

Charles was the first to stand, his presence commanding attention as he held up his glass.

"Bonsoir, everyone," he began, his voice clear and confident, "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Charles,"

"No one knows you! You're not world champion," Max yelled from his place, making everyone laugh.

"Somebody's jealous because he's not best man, I see," Charles teased, causing laughter again, "Anyway, I have known Pierre for many years now, and I can honestly say he is one of the best friends I could ever ask for. And Kika, you have brought out the best in him. Your love story is truly inspiring, and I am so honored to stand here today as your best man."

His words were heartfelt and genuine, and you could see Pierre and Kika's eyes shining with emotion. Charles continued with anecdotes about him and Pierre's karting days and well-wishes, his speech met with applause and cheers by the end.

It was your turn now, you were nervous but Charles sent a wink your way as he passed you the microphone that made you relax.

"Kika and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember," you began, your voice steady. "We have shared so many incredible moments together, and seeing her find someone who makes her so happy is truly a blessing. Pierre, you have brought so much joy into her life, and I am beyond thrilled to see you both start this new chapter together."

Your speech was filled with love and appreciation, and by the time you finished, there were a few more teary eyes around the room. Kika hugged you tightly, whispering her thanks in your ear.

After the speeches, the lights dimmed, and music began to play. Everyone gathered around the dance floor, and Charles turned to you with a mischievous smile. "Care to dance?"

"Sure," you replied, taking his hand as he led you to the center of the dance floor. The music was slow, and Charles pulled you close, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You danced together, your bodies moving in sync. You felt his breath on your cheek, and the warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine. You looked up at him, your faces inches apart, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

From across the room, Lily and Rebecca watched with satisfied smiles. Alex joined them, raising an eyebrow. "So, you think your plan worked?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

"Definitely," Lily said, her eyes twinkling. "Look at them. They're practically made for each other."

Rebecca nodded in agreement. "We've been planning this for months, and it looks like it's finally happening."

"Well, I have to admit, you girls make a pretty good matchmaking team," Alex chuckled, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

"We just knew they needed a little push," Lily grinned, "And now, look at them. They can't take their eyes off each other."

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

liked by iamrebeccad, charles_leclerc and 254,378 others

yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND JUST GOT MARRIED 🥲🥲🥲 brb i’ll be dancing and weeping all night

tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes

view all 5,106 comments

username1 OMFG KIKA LOOKS STUNNING

username2 AHHHH THIS CONTENT

lilymhe same over here 😩😩 ♥︎ by author

username3 god i’d give up my first born yo be at that wedding right now

yukitsunoda0511 yukierre is for life ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram so is kikayn

↳ username1 I LOVE THEM 😭😭

↳ username2 ooohhh yuki and yn should get together so she’s finally an official wag

↳ username3 NOOO WE NEED CHARLESYN

francisca.cgomes I LOVE YOU JUST GRABBED MY PHONE TO COMMENT ON THIS ❤️❤️ now back to my wedding lol ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 she’s too iconic

liked by username1, username2 and 25,926 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc getting cozy with one of the bridesmaids at the Gasly-Gomes wedding 😳

view all 2,004 comments

username1 OMFG

username2 LOOORD

username3 ISNT THAT YN 😭😭

↳ username1 YEAH

username4 oh god lando really exposed them, someone take his phone from him

username5 WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNN

username6 oh to be at that wedding right now

username7 YN HONORARY WAG IS NO MORE ITS TIME FOR YN REAL WAG ERA

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📍PORTOFINO, ITALY

Kika Gomes and Pierre Gasly were finally married.

The ceremony was held at a charming seaside chapel, adorned with white flowers and delicate ribbons. Guests filled the pews, their faces reflecting the joy and love of the occasion.

You stood beside Kika as her maid of honor, heart swelling with pride and happiness as she exchanged vows with Pierre. Charles, standing beside Pierre as the best man, caught your eye several times, his gaze warm and reassuring. The ceremony was beautiful, filled with heartfelt words, laughter, and a few tears of joy.

Charles made sure to compliment you from the moment he first saw you, and everyone was gushing over the two of you being color coordinated, just like you thought they would be.

After the vows were exchanged and the couple was pronounced husband and wife, it was time for the reception, or as Lando Norris would like to call it, the time to get absolutely wasted.

The party was held at a stunning villa overlooking the sea. The evening was filled with delicious food, heartfelt toasts, and lively dancing.

Just like the rehearsal dinner two days earlier, you and Charles were together all the time. Sitting beside each other at the table, Charles grabbing the train of your dress for you when you needed it, keeping at least a hand on each other all the time. You knew that wasn't "we're just friends" behavior, but you were too happy to mind.

As the night progressed, the drinks kept flowing, and everyone was in high spirits. Lando, true to his word, was leading the charge in getting everyone to the dance floor. You and Charles danced together, his hands on your shoulders as you swayed to the music, his breath on your neck as he whispered to your ear.

You knew some prying eyes were on both of you — and by that, you mean Rebecca, Lily and their respective boyfriends—, but once again, you were too happy and tipsy to mind.

After hours of dancing and celebrating, you finally took a break and sat down with your friends at one of the tables near the dance floor.

“You two were adorable on the dance floor,” Lily teased, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh, stop,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “We’re just having fun.”

“Yeah, right. Just friends, huh?” Rebecca smirked.

Before you could respond, Charles appeared at the edge of the table, looking as handsome as ever, his suit jacket long forgotten and a few buttons of his shirt undone.

You were really down bad for him.

“Mind if I steal YN for a bit?” he asked, his eyes twinkling from the alcohol.

"Let the girl breathe mate! She's probably tired of you," Carlos teased, earning a round of laughter from the table.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I think I can manage a bit more of Charles," you said, standing up and taking his offered hand.

"Of course you can," Rebecca said with a smirk. "Go meet your boyfriend."

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you protested weakly, standing up from the table.

“Not yet, anyway.” Lily laughed.

You ignored her comment, though your heart did skip a beat. You don't know if Charles had heard any of it, but you let him lead you out to the terrace, your hand wrapped around his. From the corner of you eye, you saw Kika looking at you, nudging her husband and pointing at you both, teasing smiles on their faces.

They just got married so you'll let it slide.

“Nice to get a break from all the noise,” you said once you reached the terrace, leaning against the railing and looking out at the sea.

“Definitely,” Charles agreed, standing close beside you. “It’s been a perfect night, though.”

"I know," you smiled softly, "I'm so happy for Kika and Pierre, they deserve this so much."

"They really do. It's been a beautiful day," Charles nodded, his eyes fixed on you, "Just as beautiful as you."

He stepped closer, wrapping a hand around your waist, pulling you gently against him. Your heart raced at his touch, and you couldn't help but glance at his lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. You'd thought about it more times than you'd like to admit, and the way he glanced at yours told you he did too.

“Charles,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “what are you trying to do?”

He smiled, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m trying to charm the pretty bridesmaid,” he replied softly, his thumb tracing small circles on your waist.

You laughed, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, leaning in slowly.

He closed the distance between you, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more, slow and sweet, filled with a longing that had been building for months. His hands slid up to cup your face, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him, losing yourself in the moment.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Definitely working,” you whispered, making him chuckle.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes full of affection. “Good to know,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth.

You spent a few more moments on the terrace, talking and laughing, sharing more kisses and wrapped around each other.

You were not sure what this meant for your friendship, but you were too happy to care. The night felt magical, like a dream you never wanted to end. It was a night of new beginnings, not just for Kika and Pierre, but maybe for you as well.

As you both made your way back inside, hand in hand, you noticed a few knowing smiles and exchanged glances among your friends. Kika and Pierre were still on the dance floor, looking blissfully happy, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy for them.

“Look who’s back!” Lando called out, a wide grin on his face.

“What’s going on?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at their suspicious behavior.

Kika abruptly approached the group, dragging Pierre by the hand a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Everybody pay up,” she said, holding out her hand.

Charles and you exchanged confused looks. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“We had a bet going,” Kika explained, clearly enjoying this. “We bet that we could get you two together before the wedding. And technically, we did.”

“Damn, I didn't think you girls would actually make it happen,” George handed over some money with a laugh.

“Wait, you all really bet on us? The infamous masterplan was actually a real thing?” you asked, still processing the revelation.

“Of course it was,” Rebecca said with a grin. “It was obvious to everyone except you two.”

"I can't believe you guys," you said, shaking your head but unable to suppress a smile, covering your face with your hands, Charles pecked your temple gently.

"To be fair, the girls started it, we just joined in later," Oscar said, trying to deflect the blame.

“I can’t believe it took a wedding and a bet to get us here," Charles chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "I guess we owe you all a thank you,"

"No need to thank us. Just be happy," Carmen sent a wink your way, making you smile.

"Alrighty, a toast now," Lando said, climbing on top of a chair. Everyone knew he was too drunk to be stopped so you just let him, "To Kika and Pierre the happiest and most beautiful couple in the world!"

"Hear, hear!" echoed through the crowd as glasses clinked together, laughter and cheers filling the air.

"And to YN finally becoming an official WAG!" Kika chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief, making the girls cheer.

"Official, huh?" Charles murmured, leaning in closer.

"We'll talk about that later, Leclerc," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, champagne and celebration. Charles never left your side as you enjoyed with your friends.

As the party continued, you found yourselves on the dance floor once more, swaying to a slow song. Charles held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you. "So, how does it feel to be an official WAG?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"As far as I'm concerned, you haven't asked anything, mister," you teased raising your eyebrows.

"Well then, consider this me asking," he murmured, his voice playful yet sincere.

"In that case," you began, teasing him further, "I suppose it feels pretty good."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Good to hear," he replied softly, brushing his lips against your temple.

Being an official wag was amazing

read some extra scenes here !

🥰🥰

special girl.

18+

Being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend.

Content Warning: FWB!Bucky x Fem!Reader, mature themes, angst, insecure!reader, mention of reader's unhappy childhood + neglectful parents, hurt/comfort, soft!bucky.

a/n: self indulgent, fluffy cocky bastard bucky to make myself feel better, but i thought you guys might enjoy it too <3 also didn't think i'd be a non-beard girl but the gifs from fresh have me FERAL

You aren't sure how he does it. How he manages to own the room without having to say much at all. He just walks in, two hours late, flashes his brilliant smile, and has everyone in the palm of his hand. It must feel powerful, being in his position. It makes you wonder why he settles for you when he could have any of them.

Stop. Insecurity isn't a cute look.

"And then what happened?" Sharon asks with a gasp, resting her hand on his arm. She's acting a little more drunk than she actually is so that she can get away with being touchy. He doesn't seem to mind.

"What do you think happened?" Bucky replies with that charming smirk. "I told him to go fuck himself."

"Oh, Bucky!" Sharon and the others burst into giggles. "You're too much!"

You mind.

"I don't know if it'll go any further," Laura says with a shrug from her seat next to you. "I mean, Clint's nice and all, but I'm not sure if I feel that spark yet."

"Yet!" Natasha repeats pointedly, squeezing her knee. "You have to give him a proper chance, Laura. He might end up being the love of your life!" The engagement ring on her finger glistens as light from one of the wall sconces bounces off of it.

Out of everyone in this friendship group, you're closest to Natasha and Laura, but you can't help but feel distanced from them during relationship talk. They're the kind of women who get asked on romantic dates and get given flowers and get proposed to, while you're not. You're the kind of woman who guys want to sleep with and keep in their roster for when they're bored late at night. At least, that's what you are to Bucky.

He could have any one of the women here tonight, but he probably knows that they'd be a lot more maintenance than you. You sleep with him without asking for more, and so maybe it's your fault that he doesn't give you anything more. Or maybe he just doesn't want to - after all, that is Natasha and Laura's dating mantra: if he wanted to, he would.

"How about you, muffin?" Natasha's question is directed at you. "Any new leads?"

You shake your head. "Haven't had much time for the apps, to be honest," You say truthfully.

"Just the same old Bucky, then," Laura says teasingly, causing you to roll your eyes.

"We've hooked up, like, two times," You claim. Closer to two hundred. You're not sure why you want to keep the truth under wraps. It isn't like Natasha and Laura would judge you for sleeping with him every week - especially if they knew it was an exclusive agreement - but something about admitting that the closest thing to a relationship you have is a guy who comes around every Tuesday and Saturday to fuck you while your friends are getting engaged and being taken on romantic dates doesn't feel like something you want to do.

"He's probably the hottest guy we know," Laura says as she looks over at him. "If I were you, I'd bag him ASAP."

"Shame about the personality," Natasha grumbles. "If he was nicer, I'd be all for it, but you deserve a sweetheart. I know you're a hopeless romantic at heart."

"Yeah, right," Laura scoffs. "Muffin and romance do not go together."

The difference between your two best friends is that Laura sees you the way you want to be seen, and Natasha sees who you really are. You don't know which one you appreciate more.

Steve's monthly get-together is a good chance for you to catch up with all your friends. Everyone's busy with their jobs and relationships, but the last Friday of every month is reserved for this. Most of these people you don't see outside of these events, but it makes you feel like a social person to be able to say you know enough people to warrant a house party. It's a low-key affair; a sports game nobody really cares about plays on the wide-screen and pizza and snacks cover the coffee table, while everyone engages in conversations and the odd dance now and then.

Everyone brings a bottle and dresses casually, and there's usually a point when Bucky steals you away so you can fool around in one of the empty rooms. In fact, the first time you kissed him was at one of these parties, six months ago. You had just been on the worst date in your life, and Bucky was saying all the right things, and one thing led to another. The night ended with him sleeping over at your place.

"You need to make time for it," Natasha tells you sternly. "Now's the time to slut it up before someone locks you down."

"I agree," Laura chimes in. "Dating is so much fun. As much as I'm not sure about Clint, it is exciting getting to know him."

You sigh inwardly but give them a smile and a nod, hoping they'll drop it. Dating is most certainly not fun for you, and while you're still satisfied with Bucky, you'll keep things the way they are.

"No, Bucky!" Sharon whines from across the room. "I was just getting into that story!"

"Nature calls," He replies smugly as he walks towards the door.

Once he's gone, you stand up and make your way to the kitchen where you make yourself a vodka cranberry. A few minutes later, Bucky walks in, stopping in his tracks when he sees you.

"Woah, are you lost?" He asks, walking over to you with a frown. "The beauty convention's actually a few blocks away."

You roll your eyes at his cheesy line but smile nonetheless, taking a sip of your drink to hide it. "Beauty convention. You're such a dork," You mutter, leaning back against the cabinets.

"How you doing, baby?" He asks as he places his hands on your hips. When he glances down at your drink, you bring the glass up to his lips and he takes a sip.

"Good," You reply simply. "How about you?"

"Good," He echoes, looking you up and down before giving you a confused look. "By the way, do you know what's going on with Sharon? Why does she suddenly wanna fuck me?"

Snorting at his question, you shrug. "Suddenly? Hasn't she always wanted to fuck you?" You wonder.

"No, not this bad," Bucky counters. "She won't stop touching me. Do you think it's my new aftershave?"

You lean forward and sniff his neck, raising a brow. "It's nice, but I prefer what you usually wear," You tell him before narrowing your eyes. "Why are you complaining about a beautiful woman chasing after you?"

"I'm not complaining," He claims. "Simply observing."

"Don't you wanna fuck her?" You ask him curiously.

He almost looks offended at the question, but he quickly returns to his smug demeanor. "That's what I have you for," He says with a wink before leaning in. You move back, paranoid that someone will walk in, and now he looks really offended. "What? I can't kiss you?" Bucky asks with narrowed eyes before he leans in again. This time, you don't move away and instead, you kiss him back.

Kissing Bucky is fun. Usually, you'd be thrown off by the amount of tongue, but something about it being him makes you weirdly okay with it.

"What's your plan tonight?" He asks with a mumble against your lips. "You drive here?"

You shake your head, resting your hands against his broad chest. "I came with Tasha," You inform him. You know better than to bring your car because Bucky always brings his, and when you have the same destination at the end of the night, why take two cars?

"I'll drive you home," He says, as though he has to say it.

Before he can kiss you again, the muted sound of the main room's door opening tells you that someone's on their way to the kitchen. You pull away from Bucky and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close. The door swings open and Sharon walks in, taken aback when she sees the two of you but quickly recovering and making her way to the fridge where she grabs a beer.

"He-ey," She sings casually. "So, this is where the cool kids party, huh?"

"Exactly right," Bucky replies, bumping your hip with his.

You shoot him a wink before pulling out of his arm and walking towards the door. "I'll see you back at the losers' party," You call out to them before leaving the kitchen.

Sharon's demeanor visibly changes once you're gone. With a small smile, she closes the fridge door and walks over to Bucky. "Enjoying your night?" She asks him, tilting her head.

Bucky nods, feeling slightly uncomfortable that she's flirting with him when you aren't there to get jealous. So what's the point?

"I didn't get a chance to tell you this, but you look really good," She goes on to say, stretching her fingers around his bicep and squeezing it. "How often do you work out?"

"Uh, most mornings," He tells her in a flat tone. "It's all about consistency."

"I wish I had your motivation," Sharon swoons, before gasping. "Which gym do you go to? I need to come with you; you could really put me to work!"

After bullshitting his way through a conversation with her, Bucky and Sharon return to the main room, where you're dancing with Natasha and Steve.

"So, how's it going with Bucky?" Steve asks you lowly so Natasha doesn't hear. "You guys in love, yet?"

"Shut it, Rogers," You mutter, swaying to the jazz song playing softly in the background with your hands enclosed in his.

"You can't hide the truth from me," He says with a smirk. "I'm his best friend. He tells me everything. Everything."

Grimacing, you pull one of your hands out of his grip and hit his shoulder. "I won't hesitate to beat you up, Rog," You threaten him. "You may be an amateur boxer, but-"

"Amateur? I'll have you know I'm a semi-professional-"

"But I can hold my own against you," You finish boldly. "I know where a man's weak spot is."

He raises a brow at that. "We frown upon below-the-belt hits in this house," He tells you sternly, looking slightly concerned as he glances down at his crotch.

"I'm not talking about your balls," You correct him, before leaning in closer. "I'm talking about your neck." With that, you blow on his throat, making him instinctively giggle as he moves back.

His face drops and he does his best to give you an angry look. "You need boxing lessons if that's the best you've got," He says.

"I think I'd rather die than let you teach me anything," You tell him with a laugh.

"Are you offering boxing lessons?" Natasha cuts in with a hopeful look.

"Not to you," Steve quickly shuts her down. "Last time, you almost killed me!"

"I just need to hone my strength!" She whines. "It's not my fault my instinct is to kill a man who puts his hands on me - you can teach me to fight clean!"

"No, thank you," Steve grumbles just as Bucky joins you.

"Can I see your new ring?" He asks, peeling your hand away from Steve's and pretending to be awfully interested in your jewellery.

"I've had it for years," You remind him with a raised brow, while Steve just smirks to himself.

"Really? I've never noticed it," Bucky claims innocently, rubbing his fingertip over the aquamarine gem. He most definitely remembers it, and remembers the way the silver band feels when you stroke his cock. He just prefers it when he's holding your hand, not Steve. "It's very pretty. Matches my eyes."

"Want it?" You ask, pulling it off your finger before placing it on his pinky and pushing it down. "Suits you."

Natasha links her arm in yours, unable to see the clear tension between you and Bucky as she pulls you away. Sometimes it makes you wonder if she knows you at all - how is it that she doesn't notice the way you look at him, and that it's different from the way you look at anyone else? Doesn't she see that he's softer on you than the others? That you're the only one he's so touchy-feely with? He might be a flirt, but you're the only one he gropes - and you may slap his hand away, but you never tell him to stop. Why doesn't she see all of that?

Is it because it's all in your head? Is he like that with everyone behind your back? Is your selective memory stopping you from realizing that you aren't all that special to him?

"I need to pee," Natasha says as she whisks you out of the room and up the stairs.

It's something of a gathering in the bathroom - all the girls are in there already when you and Natasha arrive. She makes a beeline for the toilet while you lean against the wall, watching Maria redo her lips.

Laura bumps into you, visibly tipsy as she widens her eyes and lowers her voice. "I've cracked the code," She whispers to you while the girls chat amongst themselves. "I know why Sharon's all over Bucky."

"You've noticed that, too?" You ask her lowly, raising a brow.

She nods, resting her hand on the wall behind you and moving closer to you. "See, she may have found out about you and Bucky-"

"What?" You ask her, baffled. "How?"

"...I may have let it slip," She says with a wince. "It was at the engagement party; you and Bucky disappeared, and it was obvious what you were doing. She asked, and I couldn't help but confirm her suspicions!"

"Fuck's sake, Laura," You mutter, not too irritated as you knew the truth would out eventually.

"But she only thinks it was that one time," She assures you. "She doesn't know about the first time."

"Right," You say, surprised that Laura hasn't yet deduced that you've screwed Bucky a lot more than twice.

"Anyway - my theory," She says with an excited tone. "It's, like, psychology - women want men more when they know they're with someone else. It's linked to finding a mate back in the caveman times, or whatever. Knowing you fucked him makes him seem like a more desirable mate to her, which is why she's so into him all of a sudden."

Processing her words, you slowly nod. "Makes sense," You admit.

"Doesn't it?" She asks with a grin before being pulled away by one of the others.

"And then he sent a bunch of lilies to my office," Maria continues her story while applying some lip gloss. "He wrote the cutest little note."

"What did it say?" Yelena asks her with wide eyes.

Maria giggles, her cheeks flushing pink. "I'm not telling you word-for-word, but I'll just say he knows how to make a girl feel special," She says with a smile.

Special. When's the last time someone made you feel special - and not just because you gave them the best head they've ever had?

"I'm telling you, this thing with Kate is moving so much slower than I'm used to, but it's actually really nice," Yelena says as she moves to the side to allow Natasha to wash her hands in the sink. "I can literally feel myself falling in love - isn't that crazy?"

The girls all gush and coo at her words, and you're truly happy for her. You just wish you could relate to her. Maybe it's your own fault nobody bothers to romance you, but it would be nice for someone to sweep you off your feet with a surprise flower delivery.

"What about you?" Sharon suddenly asks you with an expectant look on her face. "How's your love life going?"

Everyone's attention suddenly falls on you and you feel like a deer in headlights. Stunned, you swallow thickly before speaking. "Uh, it's pretty... boring," You say. "Not much going on."

"Really? Why not?" Sharon pushes with a frown. "You're on dating apps, right?"

"Yeah," You confirm, praying that someone else takes the spotlight from you soon. "They haven't been very fruitful, though."

"Oh, of course," Sharon says with a small smile. "You're not really the long-term dating kind, are you? In fact, I can't remember the last time you introduced us to a guy."

"Y/N is doing what she wants to do," Laura chimes in with a slight slur as she walks back over to you. "Not everyone wants flowers, Sharon."

You know she's only trying to help, but her words sting. Who said you don't want flowers?

"I guess," Sharon mumbles, a smug look on her face. "Just be careful. You aren't getting any younger. You don't wanna be the girl that a guy just settles for 'cause he's in a rush to get married-"

"Sharon, shut the fuck up," Natasha cuts her off with a glare. "I'm the only one engaged here, so I have the authority to say that nobody here needs to be in a rush to get married. It isn't 1950."

"Oh, my gosh - I didn't mean to be offensive," Sharon says quickly, concern in her features. "I just want everyone to be happy and in love!"

"Happy and in love don't always correlate," Laura points out. "Leave Y/N alone."

Sharon rolls her eyes and sighs before walking past you. "Calm down," She says to Laura flatly before looking at you. "So, I guess you don't mind that Bucky's taking me out for dinner tomorrow?"

It feels like a slap on the face at this point but you do well to keep calm and collected on the outside.

"Why would Y/N mind?" Maria asks with a frown. "And since when are you and Bucky a thing?"

Sharon shrugs, trying hard to keep the smile on her face small and dignified no matter how much she wants to laugh in your face. "We've been talking," She says with a shrug. "He's cute."

"Bucky's always been cute," Yelena points out, while Natasha and Laura frown at you. "It's the arrogant asshole part we're surprised you'd put up with."

"He's nice to me. Anyway, it's nothing serious," Sharon assures everyone. "Just a dinner between friends."

"We all know what that means," Maria says with a smirk.

Having heard enough, you head out of the bathroom, mumbling something about needing another drink. Sharon isn't getting to you - you won't let her get to you. Even if she isn't lying, so what if Bucky's taking her out to dinner? They've been friends for just as long as you have; it's not at all odd for them to go for dinner. You've been out for dinner with male friends before. But never Bucky.

As you walk towards the stairs, you hear some chatter in one of the bedrooms. You walk in to see Scott, Hope, Tony, and Pepper sitting on the bed, looking at something on Hope's phone. Grateful for the distraction, you wander over and join them, lying down horizontally at the end of the bed.

"Watch him fall over at the end," Hope says to them, squeezing your leg in a quick greeting before looking back at her screen.

There's a short silence before they all burst into laughter, and you smile softly to yourself as Scott's face gradually starts to resemble a tomato. You watch them interact for a little while, quickly remembering they're each in happy relationships when Tony presses a gentle kiss to Pepper's face, and Hope assures Scott she still loves him even when he falls off his skateboard.

You turn around, facing away from them. You feel like an outsider, and that feeling doesn't disappear even when some of the others start pooling into the room.

"You better not be having an orgy without me in my own home," Steve says warningly as he sits behind you. You're not sure who else has come in as you're facing the wardrobe, spiralling in your emotions, but you can hear Sharon laughing which does little to cheer you up.

What's wrong with you? You're content with your life. Are you really gonna let that frumpy bitch Sharon make you feel like shit? That was mean. She's not a frumpy bitch. Just a little sly.

You can't help but imagine her dinner with Bucky. What if he realizes she's more interesting than you? What if they have tons in common and really hit it off? What if he calls you afterwards to tell you he doesn't want you anymore and he's all about Sharon fucking Carter now?

And if he is into her, why did she get asked to dinner? All you get is sex, but she deserves to be wined and dined? What does she have that you don't? Why put more effort into her?

Wiping away the tears in your eyes before they have a chance to fall, you sniffle, glad that the others are having a loud conversation that drowns out your pathetic heavy breaths. Get a grip.

At some point, Bucky walks into the room, curious as to where everyone is. Deep down, he really only wants to find you. He spots you lying at the edge of the bed, frowning when he sees you aren't taking part in the boisterous chat behind you. Sensing that something's wrong, he walks over and crouches down in front of you, taking you by surprise.

"Hey," He whispers, concern on his face when he sees you're clearly upset. "You okay?"

Even though you know he won't believe you, you nod, avoiding his eyes.

He stands back up and part of you thinks he's about to walk away, but instead, he scoops you up into his arms and walks you out of the room. Steve yells something you don't hear, but it makes the others cheer and chorus an oooooooh.

"What are you doing?" You mumble, not trusting your voice not to break if you were to speak any louder.

He takes you into another spare bedroom across the landing, kicking the door shut behind him before walking you over to the bed which he gently sits you down on. He sits next to you and pulls you closer until you're half on his lap. "Talk to me," He says lowly, his tone telling you that this isn't the time to be shy.

You take in a deep breath, deciding the best policy is, in fact, honesty. "Why didn't you ask me out?" You question him, looking down at the carpet while fiddling with a string on your skirt.

"What?" Bucky asks, his hand on your back.

Looking over, you finally meet his gaze. "Nothing," You retract.

"Don't do that," He says sternly. "What's going on? What's got you down?"

Feeling retrospective, you let out a sigh and look back to the ground. "I wasn't ever treated special," You begin, feeling horrifically vulnerable as you open up to him. "That wasn't my parents' fault. I had a lot of siblings; they couldn't afford to give any of us special treatment. But that affects you as an adult, you know? The way you grew up? I feel like now, I'm used to the bare minimum, and I don't ask for more because I'm not used to being given more. I put up with what I get, and I appreciate even just an iota of attention." Turning your head to face him, you look into his eyes. "Is- is that something you can sense? Can you see that in me? That I don't need special treatment? Is that why you didn't ask me out? Is that why... we only have sex?"

It takes Bucky a few moments to process your words, understandably so. You aren't used to dumping your childhood pain onto people, and you feel just as awkward as he probably does.

Instead of directly answering your question, Bucky decides it's his turn to be open.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He asks, to which you shake your head. "Me neither. Probably the first day of middle school, right?"

"Maybe," You reply. The fact that the day you met him isn't memorable doesn't exactly make you feel any better.

"I just remember you being there in my life suddenly," He says. "You were the funny girl who sat next to Steve in homeroom, and I remember being insanely jealous of him every fucking morning."

"Shut up," You utter. "You did not have a crush on me."

He chuckles, rubbing your back. "I did my best to ignore it. Girls had cooties, so I avoided you, but you were always my Marry option during Fuck, Marry, Kill," He admits.

"Really?" You ask with wide eyes. "Not Fuck?"

"Depended on my mood," He says with a smirk. "Most of the time, you were my Marry."

"Who was-"

"I'm not telling you," He cuts you off curtly.

"No, you have to," You say. "Please?"

He sighs, knowing you won't drop it. "Natasha," He admits flatly. "Until she started dating Sam, of course. I'm a respectful man."

"Who was it after they started dating?" You ask him curiously. Don't say Sharon. Don't say Sharon. Don't say Sharon.

"I don't remember, I think it changed every time," He answers truthfully.

"How often did you play that damn game?" You ask with a scoff.

"Anyway, once we hit puberty, we were always both seeing other people, but I always kept a little something for you," He tells you.

"Not during college," You point out.

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky asks you with a raised brow.

"Bucky, don't do this to me," You say, sitting up. "I was literally obsessed with you during college. I- just ask Tasha how many times I cried over you."

"You cried over me?" He sounds genuinely hurt at the news. "Why?"

"Because I wanted you so bad, but you never took the hint," You tell him. "I figured it was because you weren't interested."

"Oh, my God," He grumbles, rubbing his face.

"Are you telling me you've liked me this whole time?" You ask, utterly baffled by his revelation. "We - we wasted so many years."

"Hey, don't say that," Bucky says softly, wrapping his arm around you. "It happened the way it was supposed to. Maybe if we dated as teenagers, or during college, it wouldn't have lasted. We weren't ready for each other. We had to become our own people before we could come together. Cum together."

"To answer your question," He begins, squeezing your hip. "I didn't ask you out 'cause I didn't wanna ruin it. I figured you'd never take me seriously, given what a fucking asshole I am."

You snort, nudging his shoulder.

"You're not that much of an asshole," You assure him with a smile. "Not to me."

"Because I like you so much," He says, making your heart flutter. "That night you kissed me for the first time, I thought I was dreaming, so I just went with it. I was scared I'd ruin it if I tried locking you down; thought you'd laugh in my face at the thought of me having emotions. You seemed to enjoy our agreement, so I... kept on doing it. Kept on doing you."

A laugh leaves your mouth at his wording. "You mean to tell me, that all this time, you've been crushing on me?" You wonder. "You didn't even try to take me on a date."

"We've been on dates," He counters stubbornly. "What do you call our trip to the aquarium two weeks ago?"

"We were high and wanted to see the sharks," You whisper.

"How about all those times I cooked you dinner?" Bucky asks with a raised brow. "I literally cooked for you. I don't cook for anyone."

"We were hungry and bored of takeout," You say with a frown. "Those were... dates?"

"Oh, my God, you're such a fucking dumbass," He mutters, rubbing his temple.

You look at him with adoration, wondering how you didn't notice it before. You really are a dumbass.

"The next time you don't think you're special," Bucky starts, grabbing your cheeks in his big hand. "Think again, baby. You're my special girl. Y'know that?"

Your lips are pursed together due to his grip, and you feel your stomach flip. He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your pout.

"Nobody else means more to me," He goes on to say. "Nobody gets me like you. You're the only one who I care about impressing. All I ever think about is you - what you're doing when you aren't with me, what you're eating, wearing, dreaming about. If someone else is making you laugh. I'm so scared of losing you that I've convinced myself we're fragile. That if I try to get any closer than I am, you'll realize you don't want me. You'll turn around and apologize for leading me on, then realize you want Steve."

"Steve?" You repeat incredulously, shocked to hear the words come from his mouth. You've been drowning in your own insecurity for so long that you never stopped to think that Bucky might be under the same water as you.

"I don't know," He mumbles, pulling you closer. "I just think about you a lot. And my brain likes to taunt me with worst-case scenarios."

"Most of the time," He replies before shooting you a cheesy wink. "Right now, you're my Fuck."

"I get that," You whisper. Clutching his shirt, you move closer to him. "Am I still your Marry?"

You would laugh, but he kisses you before you get the chance. He pushes you down onto the bed and gets on top of you, using his knee to spread your legs and slotting himself between them.

"How could you ever think you weren't special to me, huh?" He grumbles, pinning your hands down with one hand and sticking his other hand up your skirt. "You're the only one I wanna see. The only one I think of. And I wanna be the only one that gets to touch you like this."

You suck in a sharp breath as he slips his hand between your legs.

"I don't make that obvious enough, huh?" Bucky wonders, disappointed with himself for allowing you to question what you mean to him. "Well, baby, that's gonna change." A small grin pulls at his lips and he tilts his head. "Don't want you holding back at all, alright? Want you to be as loud as you need to be to show me how good I'm about to make you feel. I want them all to know," He says, slowly grinding his hips against yours as his mouth brushes against your neck. "Want them all to know you're my special girl."

sorry to be a cockblock but i physically cannot bring myself to write smut right now and i just wanted to post something as it's been a while :)

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Why is this pretty sad 😥 and written pretty good

I think I've seen this film before - ron weasley, family!sirius black

summary: when sirius found out that bellatrix lestrange was having a daughter, he did everything in his power to protect her. he never met her until one day she showed up at his doorstep the same way he had at the potters. wc: 1.3k+

Sirius had seen this film before. Or rather, he had lived through it. A hesitant figure in the doorway, standing in the freezing cold with dried blood coating their clothes.

Despite your injured and tired state, having run for miles without stopping — too afraid to stop, never stopping — you were hesitant that your promised safe haven wouldn’t welcome you.

Sirius recognised you by your hair. It had always been a staple in the family. He had it, so did his brother and his cousins. Your mother’s cousin had never met you, but from the moment you were born, he knew you were another victim of the Black family. He looked at your destructed state: dead eyes with tear stained cheeks, face painted with exhaustion, expensive gown torn and dirty in areas from the way you’d run through the woods, losing your unconventional heels in the process.

Sirius was glad he sent you those letters. One letter a month during all twelve years of his stay in azkaban sent to you with a single address “N°12 Grimmauld Place”, just in case you needed it, and finally, you took his silent advice. It was worth it, and seeing you now, Sirius knew that he hadn't wasted his only permitted letters out of the prison. Sirius moved out of the doorway, the air knocked out of his chest at the sight of you; he was literally looking back at himself. You stepped inside, tears silently running down your face, the lack of expression on your features worrying Sirius as he caught sight of your bloody feet, cut up by rocks and twigs, painted with mud.

You froze in the entryway at the sound of loud voices down the hall, shoulders tensing up. Sirius sighed.

Unfortunately for you, you had an audience.

“Sirius, who is it?” A familiar voice called out, footsteps following her words, and you immediately spun around, ready to walk back out of the house, but Sirius gently caught you by the arms, a reassuring look on his face. Sirius let go of you, nodding his head towards the inside of the house. When you turned around, you met Professor McGonagall’s worried gaze. The woman stood in front of you with an anxious expression, her arms uncrossing in front of her to put a comforting arm on your shoulder.

In the kitchen, the Order of the Phoenix meeting came to a stop, all the adults keeping an ear out for any commotion happening, revealing hints of the narrative outside. You winced as you stepped deeper into the house, the adrenaline that had allowed you to travel so far now wearing off, causing you to feel the consequences of your escape. Sirius didn’t ask you what happened, only sitting you down in the living room and letting you embrace the silence.

Sirius hesitated.

When he had run away to the Potters, he was held. Held as he cried, held as he shared his story. Held even as the Potters healed him. But Sirius didn’t know if he should hold you. After all, Sirius had never even met you.

But as the silence was interrupted, loud voices breaking the tension in the room, your eyes finally left the floor, a look of panic settling on your face as you recognised the familiar instrument of your boyfriend's voice. Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, quickly looking at the teenagers exchanging jokes as they rushed down the staircase. Sirius made an uncomfortable noise in his throat, but McGonagall was quickly taking care of it, approaching the teenagers and spreading her arms wide to stop them from entering the living room. All the jokes immediately subsided, and Sirius instantly assumed that the deputy headmistress held her signature glare.

Sirius looked back at you, watching as the tears sped down your cheeks, your face finally projecting all the different emotions you’d felt all night as you caught sight of the person whose comfort you so desperately sought. Finally, a loud sob wracked your chest, and Sirius felt his own lungs constricting him from taking a deep breath. “Mr. Weasley, give her some space!” professor McGonagall’s words died down as Ron Weasley pushed past her, speeding his pace up to run up to you, immediately falling to his knees in front of you when he reached you.

“Sweetheart?”

Sirius’s head snapped towards McGonagall as Ron uttered those words, eyes going wide in shock. He felt like he was going to throw up, watching Ron eagerly push himself up to sit on the couch next to you, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you closer to him.

You desperately clung onto Ron, gripping his jumper as you sobbed into his chest, hiding your face from him and the rest of your audience. Professor McGonagall ushered the watchful teenagers into the kitchen with the rest of the Order members, leaving you alone with your boyfriend and Sirius. Sirius stood up on shaky legs, walking to stand near the exit of the room. He didn’t want to leave the two of you alone in case something happened, but he wanted to give you the impression of privacy. “My love,” Ron muttered into your hair, voice shaking, caressing a hand over your back to soothe you. “Do you want to talk about it?” You didn’t reply, pulling away to wipe your cheeks aggressively before wincing at your own force, a familiar ache from the building bruise on your face.

“I, she-” You were interrupted by your own hiccup. “They tried making get the dark mark. I couldn't-” Ron swallowed thickly as you cut yourself off with a heartbreaking sob. You had given him little enough explanation to leave your punishment open to the imagination, but if it was rough enough to finally drive you away from your abusive home, he knew it had to be bad.

Ron had seen you come back to Hogwarts after holidays in the past, wearing heavier makeup than usual. He’d always think you looked gorgeous, ready to kiss the makeup off your skin, before remembering the occasions on which you’d wear such a mask. He’d come into your room, searching for kisses from his girlfriend to find you bear-faced, bruises littered across your skin. Over the next year, he’d learned not to say anything, instead pressing soft kisses on your skin, his arms wrapped around you as you laid in bed, serenading you into the first comfortable sleep you’d had in weeks.

Now, holding you in his arms as you sobbed, Ron wasn’t sure he’d be capable of lulling you into any kind of sleep. You never entertained the idea of running away, of breaking away from the dark side. But you had seen your opportunity for a better life, and took it. After all, your whole family would be distracted at tonight's gala with all the guests, and you had slipped away after all the introductions.

They wouldn't notice your absence for hours.

Ron loosened his arms from around your torso as you tried pulling away from him, looking straight at him with a melancholic look on your face, as though taking in every single one of his handsome features. You used your grip on Ron’s jumper to pull him closer to you, locking lips with him. You sighed in satisfaction, leaning into Ron’s touch as he cupped one of your cheeks, pulling away and mumbling “Lets get you changed, yeah?” You nodded wordlessly, letting Ron firmly wrap an arm around your waist to help you limp across the room, pausing in the doorway as your eyes lingered on Sirius, offering him a silent ‘thank you’ as your eyes watered gratefully.

“Welcome home.” Sirius muttered to you quietly, and you finally turned away from him for Ron to help you up the stairs. He shut the door behind you, running his hands down your back before reaching for the zipper of your dress and tugging down slightly. “Can I?” You nodded, holding your dress to your chest as Ron undid your zipper, disappearing into the bathroom to fetch you a towel. You wrapped the towel around your body, letting your dress fall to the floor as you followed Ron back into the bathroom. Your boyfriend averted his gaze as you unravelled the towel from your body, stepping into the bathtub and letting the tub fill up with water, the warm liquid engulfing your body. Ron sat on the floor on the other side of the tub, one hand caressing your frizzy hair, but he didn’t seem to mind, mumbling words like “You’re safe here” and “I love you so much.” It was only as you were finally dozing off that you heard Ron mutter. “Come on sweetheart, don’t want you to get sick.”

Half-asleep, you wore the clothes Ron gave you, climbing into the mysterious bed with him by your side and falling into a gentle sleep, the worried furrow between your brow never subsiding. When Sirius finally gathered the courage to come upstairs and knock on the door, he found you with Ron carefully holding your arm up, running his fingers over the scabs that would leave a scar on your arm with the word ‘traitor’ etched into your skin.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes

It was so well written, and I can't stop reading it

Chapter 3 - Burning in the Lava

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Someone give Bucky a Xanax or something, he needs it.

Chapter Title from demons by Hayley Kiyoko

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky has a rough first week on the job, and you engage in psychological warfare. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Read on A03!

It’s easy to underestimate you. It’s a mistake people frequently make, because you want them to. The optimist is never pleasantly surprised.

And the docile animal is never sedated.

And you’ve practiced being that animal your whole life.

It’s part of the show. When you’d shaped yourself into an accessory, your smile had been sickly sweet and full lipped, you’d bow your head when you spoke, and you’d watch your feet as you walked, as if you’d been afraid you’d trip over yourself.

After you got the out—the job, the only thing you’ve ever been allowed to be good at—you’d become overly confident. All sharp words and raised chins and perfectly made masks, powerful but not approachable, commanding but obviously trying too hard to be so. 

It’s purposefully mistaken for arrogance. Someone who was a threat to people who couldn’t hurt you anyway—people who the show worked on, who overestimated you and never thought twice about how you’re hollow, and lonely, and would likely shatter with one wrong touch—didn’t know how to see your everything for the lie it was. They’d never even imagine that all it would take is one carefully crafted and aimed sentence, and you rip yourself apart from within.

And people who were a threat would take the arrogance for the overcompensation it was, and they’d still underestimate you. They’d see you as too little, but trying to be more, and never even think that there was something deeper. Something to be weary of. 

They’d think they were seeing right through you, and that the one layer they’d managed to peel away was the only cage you kept yourself in.

You’d been so sure Bucky Barnes would fall in the latter category. He’d already seen you without any mask at dinner, but he’d seemed to read you as nothing more than a rich, spoiled brat who didn’t understand the threat Hydra posed. You’d hoped that would make him think he’d worked you out, and that by caving so fast to Sam’s stupid order you’d gotten him to believe you’d just roll over.

But when you get to your office the next morning, he’s waiting for you. Standing with his arms braced on his hips in the lobby of your building, an equal distance between the stairs and the elevator, scanning over the area and ignoring all the stares in his direction with an obviously practiced ease.

You don’t know how long he’s been there. Likely too long, given the depth of his scowl, but that might just be his face. There are slight bags under his eyes, but they’d been there last night as well. It’s unreasonably early in the morning—barely past 6am, the only other people in the lobby being security and night staff—so Barnes can’t have been waiting a while, but he and Sam had beaten you to the restaurant last night, which means Sam might have blabbed about you always being early and if Barnes had been paying attention-

Fuck.

Barnes isn’t the latter group. He isn’t the former, either.

He’s a whole new beast. You don’t know quite what yet, but not what you’re used to. Not a shallow pretty-boy or old, slimy asshole who will fall apart for the giggling, glossy-eyed and pouting lips act.

Not a well-trained, proud agent or politician who thought they were smarter than you, and weren’t.

Something you’ll have to dissect and maneuver around with more effort than you’re used to.

And you’d known this wouldn’t be easy. You’d hoped it wouldn’t be barely ten hours in that Barnes started to be a problem, but there he is, waiting for you in the lobby like he’d already anticipated that you’d try something.

And just because he’s right—you’d absolutely been about to try something—doesn’t mean that it’s not annoying.

But you’ll be fine. You’ll adapt. Barnes may not be underestimating you the way you’d wanted, but he’s still underestimating you. He hasn’t spotted you, standing outside the building with a baseball cap and sunglasses—Happy may have told you to stop taking the subway until this was fixed, but he wasn’t your boss, so you’d done it anyway—and he doesn’t seems to be at all worried that you can easily see him through the glass.

He thinks he’s already won. That you’re going to just stomp into the lobby and fight him there, when that will so clearly be handing him the victory.

And you don’t know what Barnes thinks you are. 

But you’re well aware that, whatever it is, he’s wrong. 

It’s not as difficult as it should be to get past him. You simply turn on your heels, walk around the block to the parking garage entrance, and enter through there. Carefully. With the stairs up to the second floor, then the elevator up to your office. 

Once he realizes that he’s already lost you and works out where you are, you’re going to need to have a serious conversation with him about covering all his bases. Maybe a conversation with Sam about how, if Barnes were five people instead of one super solider, the garage would’ve been covered and this never would’ve happened. Or a conversation with Happy about how Barnes didn’t see you, but the cameras had, so maybe they were better security than he was.

You’ll find it. You’ll have time to find it, because it’s going to take Barnes at least an hour to figure out what’s happened, and by the time he does you’ll already be several more steps ahead.

Your assistant, a sweet girl named Grace who’s only been here a year, but you still trust more than most of the actual board, is already at her desk when you arrive. You drop her coffee on the desk before she can speak, raising your brows as she blinks up at you.

“You’re early.”

“You’re early. My schedule is your schedule, ma’am-” 

You roll your eyes, pushing the coffee further forward. “Don’t call me that.”

“Mr. Hogan call you that-“

“Happy is afraid of me, you’re not. How long have you been here?”

“Only for like an hour-“ Grace cuts herself off, her hand freezing on the cup as her eyes widen. “Shit, did you come in through the lobby again? I think I saw the Winter Solider down there-“

He’s been here at least an hour. Good to know.

“And he was just, like, standing guard? I know you’re friends with Captain America, but I’ve never seen him here before, do you know what he wants-“

“Me.” You shrug, glancing over your shoulder to check that Barnes isn’t about to burst out of the elevator or stairwell, and when you look back to Grace she’s gaping at you, her voice suddenly a squeak.

“You? He’s here for- Did- Did Mr. Wilson introduce you? Did you finally break up with-“

You wrinkle your nose, your lips curling as you put together her disconnect. “No, not that. I- There are some things going on, and Sargent Barnes is supposed to be my security until they’re worked out.”

Grace nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly. “Supposed to be? You’re not-“ She blinks at you, shaking her head. “No-“

“Yeah. Sorry.” You give her a grimacing smile, pushing the coffee once more. “I got five vanilla shots, and cinnamon-“

“I don’t want your bribery coffee,” Grace snaps your name, shoving the cup back across her desk. “Please don’t make me do this. Please.“

Something tightens in your throat at the genuine desperation on Grace’s face, and you let out a long breath before shaking your head. “Just tell him I’m busy. Put like a- A fake meeting in my schedule. Five fake meetings, and a lunch with someone important.”

“Mr. Wilson?” Grace suggests, still sitting too tall in her chair. “He’s still in town, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t use him. Barnes is friends with Sam, he’ll snitch and then the bird-ass will fly through my window again.” You drum your fingers on your own coffee, frowning at the air as your brain spins. “Scratch the lunch. I’ll stay in my office, and the meetings can all be online. That way if things get heated out here, I can come save you.”

“Save me?” Grace pales slightly. “I- why-“

“He’s not going to hurt you.” You wave her off with a hand and half-shrug. “But he’ll probably glare at you a lot, maybe try and talk you into letting him in. If you need to cave, just give me heads up first and I’ll deal with it. Okay?”

Grace chews on her lips, but nods, and you give her a genuine, smile. One that you hope she can see the gratitude in. You don’t really try to do the Show with Grace. She’s seen you cry over movies and sing in your car, watched you dance around your office when nobody else was in the building. She wouldn’t take the Show seriously. And she’s met your cat, and siblings, and him, so there’s really no point to it anymore.

“Thank you.” You say it aloud any way, just so you’re sure she knows, and pause before you move into your office. “Do you want the coffee?”

Grace scowls, but yanks the cup back from your hands. “I hate you.”

You only hum, and try to brush off how her words twist in your gut. She doesn’t mean them. You don’t think she means them. But you are asking a lot, and ward off an ex-assassin wasn’t exactly in the job description, so maybe you’re pushing it, and she does hate you-

Problems for later. When this whole situation is over, you’ll give her three weeks off. Paid. And you’ll clean her apartment, and water her plants while she’s gone. 

But right now, you have work to do.

There are real meetings. Actual things you need to attend to, that aren’t fabricated for the sake of avoiding Barnes. But you mostly say your piece and tune everything else out, because you already know what everyone is going over, and it’s more productive to multi-task. You can listen to Joe from event management drone for a very long hour about the full guest list for the next fundraiser and respond to emails about how that Wakandan vaccine is going to be up for bidding soon. You can even plot out a good timeline for distribution and draft out your pitch, all while interjecting with your opinions about the seat arrangements and evening itinerary. 

When the meeting ends, you almost go outside to ask Grace if she’s printed the latest round of grants and bids, but you’re barely out of the chair when you hear him. 

For a man that had been angry about the volume of your music in a completely empty parking lot, he sure is shouting in a workplace. 

“I am not asking to see her.” He’s snapping at Grace, and it’s easy to picture him leaning over her desk, pointing a finger at your office door. “I’m under orders from Captain America to watch your boss, so let me in.”

“Mr. Barnes if you want an appointment with the CEO,” Grace says your name with an impressively bored tone, and you can hear the tap of her keyboard through the door. “Well- It looks like she’s busy until October. Are you free in October?”

“Goddamnit- She might not be alive in October-“

“It’s the only free time slot she has right now.”

“The only-“ Barnes cuts himself off, and there’s a long moment of silence before he speaks again. “She told you not to let me in, didn’t she.”

You sit a little straighter in your chair, frowning at the door. Barnes isn’t loud enough that you’re worried about Grace, but his tone has enough cold menace to make something under your skin boil, and you’d made Grace do this, but it isn’t her war to fight-

Your computer pings softly, and when you glance back to the screen your body fully relaxes. 

Grace Young

I’ve got it. 

“If you have a message, I can relay it.” Grace’s voice is still calm, almost commanding. Maybe she should be your guard. “Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

There’s another pause, and when Barnes speaks his voice is low. “Wait.”

“Yes, sir.”

You don’t hear anything else, and your computer pings once more seconds later. 

Grace Young

He’s sitting on the couch.

Should I call security?

You sigh, glancing back to the door as you respond.

No. I can’t kick him out or Sam will yell at me.

Just keep saying I’m busy. 

Grace Young

Yes, Ma’am.

You roll your eyes and move back to your work. 

It’s amazing how long the charade lasts. You stay in your office, and you’d suspect that this was Barnes’ plan the whole time—to keep you in a self-imposed lockdown, with him guarding the only exit in and out of the room—if he didn’t go back up to Grace every hour and demand to be let inside.

She never caves.

You’re busy. You’re in a meeting that didn’t exist three hours ago, with four people who aren’t real. You’re eating lunch. You’re napping. Now isn’t a good time, because people really need charity at noon more than any other time of the day.

Four weeks. Paid, and funded for wherever she wants to travel. 

And you don’t waste the time. You respond to all your emails, attend three more real meetings, and go through all the proposals on your computer. The only real flaw with this plan is that, eventually, you are going to have to go home. This isn’t a long-term solution, and Barnes will almost certainly figure out how you got around him this morning, so this was a one-time trick that won’t work tomorrow.

But it doesn’t have to work tomorrow. The goal isn’t sustainability. 

The goal is to drive Barnes out of his mind. To make him regret any promises he made to Sam, and give up on you entirely so you can go back to lonely, miserable peace. 

And it’s doing its job beautifully. Because Barnes snaps around 6pm—you have to hand it to him, he held out longer than you’d expected—and you’re ready. You’ve held your own against angry old men before. They may not have had metal arms and sharp jawlines, but they’d held your life in their hands far more than Barnes ever will, and you hadn’t folded. 

In comparison to those ghosts and stained, stuffed-down memories, Barnes will be nothing.

Grace pings you that he’s coming, and you brace yourself, slipping into the Show right as your door breaks down.

“You’re going to have to fix that.” You hum, keeping your attention casually fixed on the computer. “I don’t think it’s very secure for me to not have a door.”

There’s no response for a long moment, it eats at the ringing in your ears, and you fall for it. You can’t fucking stand how the hum of the fan is so loud, how you can hear yourself breathing and shifting in your chair—how it’s you and that’s always too much—and you look up.

Barnes is standing in front of your desk with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed—his scowl almost carved onto his features as hair falls over his face—and the mask almost slips. He’s not scary, and you’re in no danger, but you still feel as if you’ve done something wrong.

Not just his voice, then. You’ll need to be careful of his eyes as well, examining you like a specimen and filled with a carefully leashed fury that leaks into the air. Your breath hitches under his attention, and you know he catches it—one blink, nostril flare—but you don’t care. 

Making him angry was part of the plan. 

Adapt. Rationalize and adapt. 

You give him a mockingly innocent, full-lipped smile. “Can I help you?”

His jaw clenches, his eyes raking over your face for an answer he doesn’t seem to find. “How did you get up here.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, looking back to your computer. “That was like, nine hours ago.”

“I need to know.” He grunts, leaning further over your desk. “If there’s an access point I haven’t been made aware of, it could be a vulnerability-“

“No.”

You can see the blink in your periphery. “What do you mean, no.”

“It’s not a vulnerability. It’s my building, James. People know who I am. They’re going to let me inside.”

There’s a moment of pause, and when Barnes speaks again his words are slow. “So you saw people. You got in through a primary entrance.” Another pause, his gaze almost prickling over your skin, and then- “The garage.”

Shit. 

“Maybe.” You hum, keeping your eyes on the computer. “Doesn’t really matter.”

Barnes grunts. “I’m picking you up tomorrow.”

“You don’t know where I live-“

“Yeah, I do. It was in your file.” He pauses, and you see him give a firm nod to the air. “We’ll take your car-“

“I don’t drive.”

“Of course you drive, I saw you-“

“I drive to dinner. Not to work.”

“You-“ Barnes cuts himself off, and you start slightly as his fist slams on your desk. “What the fuck are you typing.”

You blink at your screen—full of absolute gibberish, because typing was just another part of the Show—and slowly look back to Barnes. “Emails. Sorry- Emails are like letters, but you type them, and use this thing called the internet to send them.”

Barnes stares at you, and shakes his head. “Is this a fucking joke to you?”

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation, raising your chin and leaning back in your chair. “I mean, the letter bit wasn’t my best, but-“

“I’m talking about Hydra.” Barnes hisses, planting his metal hand on your desk as he leans forward. “I’m talking about how Sam believes you’re in danger, enough to drag me into it, and you’re acting like you think it’s nothing. Like you’re above it.”

Above it.

That rattles and dislodges something in your body. You are not above it. You aren’t above anything. You slathered yourself in paint and torn yourself apart like a dysfunctional toy, and this is a joke because everything has to be. Because you’re above nothing—you’re buried in the center of the Earth and hotter than its core—and Barnes doesn’t know shit about what he’s saying.

But your gut begins to feel something like a rot. Sam is worried. He’s trying. But you’d told him you didn’t need Barnes, and that’s what keeps the mask in place. You’ll take care of this yourself, and to do that Barnes needs to remain out of your way.

No risks.

No holes.

The Show keeps going because that’s what you are, and you remain alone, just as you’re supposed to be.

“I do not think it’s nothing. And I think this,” you point between yourself and Barnes. “Is the joke. Not Hydra. I don’t need you, Barnes, and I know you don’t want to be here-“

He tenses slightly, cutting you off with a grunt. “I told Sam I would be here. And you’re not getting away with shit on my watch. This isn’t a joke, doll, none of it, and if you know that you should start fucking acting like it.”

Doll. It’s like a noose around your neck that makes the world narrow. You still don’t break the Show. You raise your chin and cover the broken parts of your voice with a crude, bored tone. 

“I will act as I please. This is my life, I will treat it however I want.”

He scoffs, looking you over like he can see you. The real, more than human you. The one tucked deep, deep down that’s scratching at her cage and whining the longer the Show goes on, the one that always breaks out just a little and gets the better of you. Makes you say stupid things and fall apart in the dead of night. The one you work so fucking hard to keep down when you can, but never manage to smother entirely because you’re you, and there’s no proper weapon against that. No tool that can skin you down permanently. It’s why you keep yourself so far down. 

There’s no way he can see it. Even Sam barely sees it. Sam sees past the Show and most every mask, but he still doesn’t see everything, and he’s known you longer than almost anyone. There is no reason to believe Barnes would’ve cracked you open after barely a day. 

So you keep your chin high as he glowers at you, and when he speaks again there’s no change to his tone. It’s still the rough, commanding danger from before, with no new blood or fury around the edges, and you think—for now—you’re safe. 

“I told Sam I’d be here.” He repeats, holding your gaze. “And I am doing this for him, not you, so I will be here. In your office. Watching you. The next time you make your receptionist-“

“Assistant.” You correct, keeping your voice bored and smooth. “She does just as much as I do. Grace is my assistant.”

Barnes lets out a long breath, and pinches the bridge of his nose as if you’re physically hurting him. “The next time you make your assistant keep me outside, I am not waiting until the end of the day to break down your door-“

“You still have to fix that-“

“And I will.” He snaps. “When you go one goddamn week following my rules.”

Your mouth curves into a wide, disbelieving grin. “Your rules? Am I going to need a fucking hall pass for the bathroom?”

Barnes continues as if you’d never spoken. “I am going to be in your office every morning, and leave with you every night. I get full access to your security systems, here and at home.” He’s raising a finger for every point. A finger made of skin and bone, rather than metal. “You pull that Houdini trick on me again-“

“I don’t think you know how a Houdini works-“

“And I handcuff you to your fucking chair.” 

Your grin grows, his scowl deepens, and this is too fucking easy. “Kinky.”

Jaw clench. Two blinks. Nostril flare. “Stop interrupting me. I go to all your meetings, and work events, and if Hydra contacts you again, I am the first to hear about it.” Barnes braces his hand back on your desk, leaning back forward. “Understood?”

You shrug, and he looks like he’s about to tear your head off.

He grunts your name—your first name, and it’s still so strange when he says it—and you cut him off with a flat tone and raised brows. 

“Are you done?”

He blinks at you. Twice. “Am I done?”

You hum with a nod, and his voice drops slightly.

“Are you going to listen?”

“Of course, James. You know, you didn’t actually tell me any of this before, so maybe I just didn’t think you’d want to spend all your time herding me like a sheep-“

“Sheep listen.” Barnes drawls, repeating your name. “And just say what you want.”

You pause, holding his gaze as everything stutters, and he hasn’t seen through you but he’d seen enough. He knows you have an angle, or a game, and he’s still staring at you like—if he looks for long enough—he’ll tear apart the Show with only his attention and you’ll mold into the real you.

You don’t know what he’d want with the real you. What he’s aiming for, by grabbing your cards and forcing them one the table.

For now, it doesn’t matter. He’s angry. And you’d have gotten here eventually, he just doesn’t seem to enjoy your dance that most powerful people love to play with.

That’s fine.

Most of this is easier without it.

“I don’t want anything.” You hum, tilting your head at him and keeping your arms crossed over your chest. “But I do have a few rules of my own.”

“Rules-“

“That is what I said.” You let your smile pull back at your lips, because it seems to hit a raw nerve in Barnes that you’d like to tease. “I’ll do all of your shit, if you do all of mine. Deal?”

Barnes jaw twitches slightly. “I’m not getting you coffee-“

You roll your eyes. “Good. I don’t want you to. Deal?”

He stares at you, the wood of your desk scraping slightly as his body tenses, and this time—scanning over your features and glaring at you like you’re personally responsible for Hydra’s existence and this whole situation—he finds what he’s looking for.

“Deal.” His words are pushed through his teeth, and he gives you a tight nod. “Go.”

“First of all, we are not friends.”

Barnes snorts, opening his mouth to sneer something back, but you’re faster.

“Shut up. What that means is that you’re here to keep Hydra off my ass, and that is all you’ll do. If you have thoughts on any other aspects of my life, keep them to yourself. You don’t get security access to my apartment, because it’s Stark funded and designed, so I will be fine. If I need to go somewhere and I tell you not to come, you’ll listen, and we’ll do hourly check-ins so you don’t start crying. I will let you bring me to work-“

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, you’ll let me-“

“But,” you continue, ignoring his mocking tone. “We’re taking the subway. Got it?”

Barnes is staring again. Sam told you he did that, but you’d thought he was exaggerating. It’s almost amazing to see in person, but you have a feeling he really does believe that if he stares at you enough, you’ll either be you—if he can see you, and knows there’s something to pry out at all—or you’ll somehow cave and fold into an easy victim. Innocent and hopeless and needy, afraid and nothing more.

You are afraid. You still don’t know what Hydra wants. You have Barnes, but he’s more of a sentry—if you’re being generous, and if you’re not, he’s an additional problem—and you have Sam, but he’s Captain America. His primary concern shouldn’t be you. It can’t be you, because you don’t need it more than anyone else, you’re less deserving of it than anyone could be, and if it is you that Hydra is after, then there will be other things to be afraid of.

Things that can’t be fixed like this, things that you can’t run from because it’s just not that easy.

None of this is easy. Barnes isn’t easy, Hydra isn’t easy, and you won’t be easy. The easy victim is a myth regardless, but you’re about to make it look like a fucking legend.  You’re exhausted and afraid and Barnes doesn’t get to walk in and stare at you, then think he’s in control. You’ve fought too violently to give in, and you feel a little sick—the weight of a migraine starting to press at your brow, paired with the twist of your stomach that makes the room start to spin—so you don’t have the energy to be easy. 

If you don’t have to put on the normal Show for Barnes, you’ll work out a new one that still keeps him on the outside. Looking in at what you want him to see, and nothing more. 

You’ll have plenty of time to figure that out tonight. You know you won’t sleep. You’re frayed and stretched too thin to sleep, your brain too wired from the fear and loneliness and everything.

So when Barnes nods, it’s a relief. This—whatever it was—is done. You can go home.

You stand without anther word, grab your already packed bag—you never fully unpack, just in case you have to move—and push past Barnes without a glance. You only pause your march to the elevator to tap on Grace’s desk, your words softer and quieter as the room starts to blur.

“Give Barnes my number, and tell security to give him full building access.”

Grace nods, glancing back over her shoulder to your office. You follow her gaze and swallow a slightly yelp, because Barnes has silently moved to the doorway, and is watching with a stoic, stone-like expression.

“Hi.” Grace mumbles. “I- uh- the door-“

“He’ll fix it.” You mutter, rubbing your face as you scan over the wholly abandoned office. “And you can do those things from home, if you want.”

Grace looks back to you with a frown. “Are you going home? It’s only-“

“I don’t feel well. I- Yeah.” You let out a long breath, and Grace’s eyes narrow. 

She doesn’t know why you don’t feel well. She doesn’t know that he has been gone too long, and the bond is starting to wither, let alone that—if it’s left abandoned for too long—this pain will be the easy part.

She does know that this happens. She’s made the connection that it’s often, in some way, because of him.

“Are you going to call-“

“No.” Your voice is harsher than you’d meant it, but Grace doesn’t flinch. She knows—you think she knows, you hope she knows, she has to know or you’re the lowest piece of shit on the planet—that you don’t mean it. 

She only nods slowly, and lowers her voice as her eyes flash with what you know to be concern. When it’s anything about him, it’s always concern.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” You shake your head, flinching slightly at the movement. You need to lie down now, before darkness overtakes your vision and you collapse on the floor in front of fucking Barnes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Grace hums, giving you one last worried look but letting it go, and you spare Barnes a nod before you leave.

But he moves. He follows you into the elevator and stands in front of the door with his arms crossed, only acknowledging you when you let out a dramatic cough, and he glares over his shoulder.

“What are you doing.”

He rolls his eyes, and looks back to the door. “We’re getting you home.”

“I-” You gape at his back, and it looks dense, but you still think it would hurt him if you punched hard enough. “What?“

“You said I was allowed to bring you to and from your home. We had a deal, kid.” He shrugs, and you can see his muscles moving under his shirt. It’s hypnotizing.

You’re losing your willpower faster than usual tonight.

“I don’t need an escort.” You mumble, but the pain is reaching your tongue and it’s hard to make your tone firm. “‘M fine-“

“I don’t care.” He grunts, still not looking at you as the doors open. “Move.”

You almost whine, but choke it down with a scowl as you drag yourself together. You won’t falter. You’ll hold the Show together until you’re finally alone, and then you’ll fall apart.  

You make it. Barnes rides the subway at your side, all the way to your apartment, and you make it because you’ve made it through worse. All that you had to do here was stare at your knees—a little bruised, tucked to your chest in your seat—and pretend you couldn’t feel Barnes watching you. 

You keep your steps steady as you finish the walk from the station, and give Barnes a grimacing smile that you hope he interprets as I hate you and hope your shower is cold tonight instead of I feel like death, and if I try to do anything more than this I’ll start screaming.

You’ll see him tomorrow. You’ll put on the Show—the one you’re going to tailor specially for him—and play the game, right up until he caves, and you win.

And you will win. You’re already a step ahead without him knowing. He doesn’t try to follow you up to your apartment. You’re going to adapt, and he’ll see nothing more than what you want him to. When you make it to your bedroom—kicking off your shoes and shuffling up the stairs without bothering to turn on the lights—you collapse and let out a weak, shaking breath as you fade in and out of consciousness, but you’re still winning.

You have to shift through his drawer for a shirt, just to keep yourself held together. You’ll die before you call him—before you plead for him to come back now, before you give him more control—but you’re winning.

In the loosest sense, you’re winning.

You’re too you but no one’s here to see it. See you sobbing and curling into the sheets because it hurts, and you’re alone, and it’s so dark and cold and there’s no way out. No one to save you from this, and maybe if Hydra does take you it will be the best outcome, because you’ll be freeing Sam, and Happy, and Barnes, and everyone else who you’ve tricked into existing where you can leech off of them.

It'll be better in the morning. It’s always better in the morning. You make it the whole night without calling him, with the only gashes forming over your heart where no one can see them, and it’s always better in the morning.

The sun drifts through the windows, and the Boy is sitting and purring on your chest, and you’re okay. You’re still lonely and hollow, but you’re okay.

You know how to deal with Barnes without revealing too much—for a brief moment in the dark you’d considered showing him everything, as it would drive him away faster than anything, but that would lose you Sam and you can’t lose Sam—and you’re going to win. 

You’ve never lost a game like this before. And Barnes may be a semi-worthy opponent, but you’re still you. You don’t matter enough for him to fight you forever. You’re too much for him hold against for long.

He can see through you, but that means he’ll hate you faster. If anything, you’ll be doing him a favor. Nobody should have to pretend you’re worthy of being served or guarded in anyway, and when you win, you’ll be sparing Barnes of yourself.

You’ve have this under control.

You don’t make him do anything. You have too many people doing things for you as it is. When you walk outside and find Barnes standing—tall and rigid and almost inhumanly still—on the sidewalk, the only acknowledgment you offer him is a sweet smile that makes his jaw twitch. You’re not sure if it’s your joy or overall presence that’s the problem, but you can work with either.

“Barnes.” You hum, your smile widening as you scan him over. His outfit is identical to the one he wore yesterday, and you’re not entirely sure he ever went home. “Morning.”

He grunts your name, returning your assessing stare, and you know he can see the underlying anger and mocking respect behind your smile. You’re counting on it. 

“This is the part where you say morning back.” You prompt, and his nostrils flare.

“Morning.”

“Good job.” 

“Shut up.”

“Rude.” You drop your voice under your breath, fully aware that he’s still going to hear it. “Let’s go, Sargent. I’ve got a lot of places to be.”

Barnes doesn’t respond, and you try not to feel like too much of a whiny, pathetic fucking bitch as you walk to the subway. Chin raised, expression bored and borderline haughty, posture perfectly straight like you think you’re better. 

You know you’re not better. You know that—with every person that passes you on the street and crowds you in the subway car—you are far, far worse. But Barnes thinks you see yourself as some kind of mortal goddess among the less worthy, just a brat who thinks she’s above things—that word is still clawing at your skull, above, as if you’re not made of trash scraps that are polished to mimic diamonds—and you have no interest in correcting him. You have things you don’t deserve. You are undeserving, just as he thinks, but he doesn’t need to know that you’re deeply and critically aware of that.

If you need to be the entitled, holy imposter that he’s painting you as, it’s exactly what you’ll become. 

When you reach the crowded subway, Barnes freezes behind you. You don’t need to turn to know he’s glaring at you. You don’t bother to hide the smile in your voice as you speak.

“You good?”

All you get in response is another grunt, and your smile widens.

He had to have known it wouldn’t be this easy. You’d be a little disappointed if he thought it was. 

“The ride is like, ten minutes.” You say, rubbing at your wrist as you watch the people shift around you. There’s a woman with metallic nails, a man with a clearly broken watch, and no protesters or preachers. Barnes got lucky. “When we get there it’s pretty much just following me around, right?”

There’s a pause, and then, “What.”

“Your plans.” You shoot him a wide, toothy smile over your shoulder. “I have work to do. What are you going to do, James? How are you going to protect me?”

Two blinks. Nostril flare. “That’s not your concern.”

“I dunno, it kinda feels like it is-“

“Pretend I’m not here, doll.” He snaps, and his attention is doing the thing again. You feel small, and naked, and vulnerable. It’s like a blade through your gut and a clamp around your heart. “I’ll keep you alive, and you can do,” he scans over you, his tone dropping to flat. Dismissive. “Whatever you do.”

You don’t let it show how his words hit somewhere deeper than he’d likely been aiming. You can’t let it show. It will be a point in his favor, that he’s made your mask shatter even one bit, that he’s driven through all your carefully forged defenses to hit a raw, white-hot nerve. 

He sees it though. In the split second before you push yourself—with inconvenient emotions, a lump in your throat, and rapid thoughts of you don’t really do anything but take up fucking space and money and time—down, your smile falters, you feel yourself slip out, and Barnes smirks.

He saw you. The Show slips back into place, but Barnes saw you. 

You keep going. You just have to keep going, and adapt, and give him a mocking grin as you step onto the subway. 

He hates it. You can see it in how he holds himself the whole ride, like he’s bracing for an attack. And Barnes seems to hate most everything, but you’re hoping it will be the small things that get him. That make him give up on you, because you plaster that mocking smile back on your face, humming and bouncing on your feet at his side, and by the time you get to the Stark Foundation building you’d safely bet you’re another step ahead. 

And you keep gaining strides. The day passes with long, boring meetings and fights with old men who think they’re smarter than you are, and Barnes sits silently in the corner. Like he’s a phantom, or part of the room’s decoration, his attention always pushing its way into your body.

Everyone keeps shooting him weary looks and cautious glances, like the wrong breath will set him into a bloodied frenzy.

You just ignore him.

“Is that all he’s going to do?” Grace whispers, holding her papers to her chest and nodding her head to Barnes in the corner of your office. 

You shrug. “He’s a hundred, Grace. You can ask him to do more, but it might kill him.”

Barnes doesn’t react. You didn’t expect him to.

“Are you going on lunch?”

Grace nods. “The deli. You want the-“

“Yes, please.” You hum, hiking one leg up to your seat as you lean back over your computer. “Ask the old fuck if he wants something.”

Barnes blinks in the background, and only shakes his head when Grace approaches him. 

The door barely closes behind her when his attention returns to you, and you shoot him a bright smile. 

“You got any other plans for the day, besides intimidating my employees?”

His jaw ticks. “No.”

You hum, scanning over him with mock curiosity. “If I decorate you, will you break my arm?”

“If you- What?”

“Decorate you, dummy.” You return your attention to your computer, shrugging as you begin to type. “I’m thinking glitter and ribbons.”

“Why in god’s name would you need to decorate me,” he snaps your name, his voice more gravelly and rough than only seconds ago, and you take it as a victory. He’s slipping. “I am not a fucking Christmas tree.”

“No, but you don’t go with anything.” You let out a dramatic sigh, pretending this is really a plague on your mind. “You could at least try to match the aesthetic, if you’re going to be standing there all day.”

He doesn’t respond. You can feel his attention pushing right into your body once more, but he doesn’t speak for the rest of the day. 

You’re still winning.

The week stretches on, the weekend passes with Barnes texting you every hour to make sure you’re not dead, and you keep it together. You’re playing the Show almost perfectly.

Almost. 

There are brief moments like the one that morning. Long seconds where Barnes gets an advantage, and you have to almost scramble to regain your ground. It’s unnerving, and exhausting, but you manage. You adapt. 

You take the same train to and from work every morning, and Barnes marches what you’re guessing is meant to be a respectable distance behind you, keeping his impossibly blank expression every single second. 

It’s three days before you manage to pry it open just an inch. To hit some part of him that’s just as deep as he’s gotten to hit you. 

“Have you ever been to the opera?”

He blinks down at you, and you give him a soft, innocent smile. 

“What.”

“The opera.” You raise your brows, swinging slightly on the subway pole as you watch him. “You know, you say what a lot.”

He scowls. “Well, you say stupid things a lot.”

“Aw, you listen to me?”

“It’s my job.”

“Shucks.” You sigh, pouting up at him. “And here I thought I was interesting.”

His eyes flash slightly, and he starts to say something that will likely make your heart drop to your gut and pull you right out of the Show, so you plow on.

“You never answered my question, James. Have you been to the opera?”

He just stares at you, and you let out a long breath.

“Sorry, I forgot you were a dinosaur. The opera is like a musical, but louder and there aren’t any spoken lines. Like reverse ballet. They’re usually in Italian, I think. You can’t be sure because all words sound the same when you’re saying them like you’re a bird. It’s kind of like-“

You take a long deep breath, ready to belt out a purposefully off-key note, and Barnes covers your mouth with a gloved hand. 

It’s a firm grip. His eyes are flashing, and his nostrils are flared, and you can see his annoyance. When his words come out gruff and pushed through his teeth, you know you’ve won again.

“Do you ever shut up?” He hisses, and you raise your brows, looking pointedly down to his hand.

He follows you gaze, and releases you with a glower. 

“That was rude.” You half whine, pushing him a little further. “You could’ve just asked me to be quiet-“

He rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t have listened.”

“Well, you’ll never know that, because you didn’t try.” You sigh, returning to dramatic pout to your face. “There’s this thing called manners, James. It’s where you say please and thank you and don’t cover the mouth of perfectly sweet girls-“

Barnes scoffs. “You are not sweet-“

“In train cars.” You keep talking as if he’d said nothing, because you’re not sweet and it hurts deep in your chest how easily he said that. “I could’ve pepper sprayed you, dumbass.”

You can feel him scanning you over, so you stand a little taller and keep your gaze fixed on the blurred walls.

“You don’t have pepper spray.”

“No. But I’d have figured something out. One slightly confusing question and you would’ve crumbled.”

Barnes grunts “You think you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious.” You drawl, examining your nail as the subway car rattles slightly. “We’re going to the opera, by the way. That’s why I asked.”

Going to the opera means walking through the building, seeing a dress rehearsal and giving your stamp of approval, because all the proceeds from the show will go the Manhattan Food Bank, but those are details Barnes doesn’t need know that. Those things won’t play into the Show, not as he needs to see it.

All Barnes needs to do is follow you around and see how you’ve muzzled yourself. Watch you give sweet smiles and kind words to people, just to turn around and mock and snap at him. He needs to see the over-composure and know it’s a trick. He needs to know you’re a liar, a wrong, twisted, hideous liar, and never bother to try and search deeper. 

He just needs to hate you, and care about you so little that he either doesn’t bother to really do his job—Sam or no Sam—or leaves overall. 

You think it’s working. He engages less and less with you every passing day. Only standing in the corner, glowering at you as you work. 

“I- ah-“ The small, weedy man you’re meeting with about public school donations swallows his words, glancing to where Barnes has planted himself by the door. “I am- As I’m sure you’re aware, ma’am, our arts depar-“ He chokes again, looking back to Barnes. “The music- um- Orchestra-“

“Is it Barnes?” You ask, and the man blinks at you.

“I- I’m sorry?”

“Sargent stone-face.” You angle your head in Barnes’ direction, and he doesn’t move an inch. “Is he freaking you out?”

“I- It’s not a problem,” the man says your name softy, but gives Barnes another nervous look. “I’m sure he’s- yes- it’s fine-“

You let out a long breath, glaring at Barnes over the man’s head. “James. Relax.”

His eye flash, but his shoulder slump slightly. 

And you stare at each other, your own shock written all over your face, likely a perfect mirror to his.

He’d relaxed. For one brief second he’d relaxed, just because you told him to, and if the way he’s blinking at you is any indication, he hadn’t meant to. He just had. 

You return your focus to the man in front of you, and don’t look at Barnes again until after the man leaves.

“It’s rude to stare.” You hum. “It’s part of the manners thing we talked about yesterday.”

He rolls his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

It’s all you get. But you know you’ve carved a little deeper, because in your next meeting, Barnes’ shoulders return to the slight slump—as if he’s trying not to draw any attention, backing further into the wall and giving the suit talking to you a small nod when he walks in the door—but the intensity of his glare seems to double. 

And he’s keeping his end of the deal. You aren’t trying to dodge or undermine him—not obviously, or visibly—and he’s not pushing himself into your life. The pain returns with more and more force every night and he never questions it, because you’re not worth the effort questioning. Of putting in more than the passive, stoic effort he seems to have mastered. 

It’s exactly what you wanted. You can keep it up for months if you need to. 

But the pain is becoming a problem. Too many mornings have come where you’re hunched on the floor of the bathroom, your fingers hovering over his contact, because it hurts and he could fix it. Just his voice would make it better. Seal the bond just enough to hold you over until he came back home, and you had a whole new kind of pain to push through. 

You never call him. You work and work, tossing Stark money to anyone who can prove they need it and grinding yourself into the sparkling ash that you need to be. The Show keeps going, and you keep adapting, just as you always done. 

Exactly what you have to do for what matters. 

The only change to the Show is Barnes, but that’s only taunting words and mocking grins, trying to find an opening to fix the whole Hydra thing yourself.

You’d been planning for that time to be when you were alone, in your apartment with the Boy sitting on the counter as you worked, and Barnes far away. But the fracture of the bond leaves you weak at the end of the day and in a borderline catatonic state through the night. It’s starting to creep where the sun can see it. Where people—real people who exactly as much as they need to be, who don’t owe their entire minds and hearts and body as reparations for pretending to be alive—can see.

Barnes is starting to notice. You know he is. He sees when you stop typing for long minutes and just stare at the screen, your vision clouding and thoughts strangled by the pain around your head like a crown. When Grace says something and you flinch almost imperceptibly, because she’s so kind but you don’t deserve it, and her voice is like a drill into your skull.

He doesn’t say anything.

But you know sees it.

And that’s exactly what you’ve been smashing yourself apart and stitching yourself back together in order to avoid. He shouldn’t see you. Yet even now—in a large meeting with all the department heads giving their reports with words you don’t really understand anymore—you can feel Barnes watching you and seeing you. 

It’s so fucking dangerous. You’re fighting to keep yourself breathing, you’re about to black out and slump in your chair, and you feel sick—bile in your throat and bubbling in your gut and making your head light sick—but you can’t be weak where he can see it. 

You stand abruptly, giving clipped words you can’t hear that you’ll be back in a minute, that they should continue in your absence—because they don’t really need you, not this you, who’s weak and inconvenient and crumbling under nothing but herself—and leave the meeting. 

You’re being selfish. And useless. But it’s you can’t be there, where everyone is alive and the show is a struggle to keep up. You barely make it into the bathroom before you’re on your knees, and everything shatters. 

It tastes horrible, rocketing out of your throat and into the toilet bowl. Your vision dances with black spots, and you can’t hear beyond a pounding and screeching noise in your ears, can’t smell beyond what pushes itself out of your nose, but you just have to ride it out. It’s part of being you. Being too human, and that getting the better of you when anyone else could just get through it. 

It passes. It’s temporary, and it passes. You take a breath that’s not a sputtering—a desperate inhale to keep yourself conscious—and grip the cool porcelain of the toilet to stay upright, and it passes. There’s a little vomit lingering on your chin that you wipe off, the toilet flushes, and it’s as if nothing happened at all. 

Your legs are too shaky for you to return. Grace will be taking notes for you. And it’s nice in here, where there’s no one smile at or be pretending for. The air is cool, and the motion-sensor lights have turned off, so you think-

You’ll just stay here for a while. Just until you know that you can go back out without showing too much of yourself. 

It’s too quiet, so you pull out your phone and work from there. Just because you’re hiding like a weak, afraid little animal doesn’t mean you’re going to do nothing. You have to do something, or you’ll be even worse than you already are.

And as the time crawls on and your eyes start to weigh with sleep, you wonder if just turning to stone here would be permissible. They would have to remove you from the wall, or you could be decoration, and you’d be stealing less resources than you do now. They could pass you to Hydra with a clean conscious, or give up on protecting you because statues don’t need bodyguards. 

You’re already a statue, though. A husk. You’re already alone and hollow, and Sam only gave you a bodyguard because you’ve managed to trick in him into thinking you were worth it. You know you’re tricking him, and you’ve never told him that you’re worse than you appear, and that might make you worse than Hydra.

At least they don’t put on a show to be what they’re not. 

Maybe the fix would be to turn yourself over to them. It would save everyone a lot of time and effort, and Sam would be angry but he’d get over it, and Barnes-

Fuck.

You’d forgotten about Barnes. 

And almost as if on a perfect cue, the door is split open, and he crashed into the bathroom. The lights flick back on as he stops right above you, arms crossed and attention peeling you apart.

You don’t look up at him, keeping your eyes trained on your phone, even as your vision glazes over.

“That’s the second door you’ve broken.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

“Reading, I think.”

“You think-“

“Yep.”

There’s a long second of silence, before Barnes breaks it with a grunt.

“You always make people run your company without you, doll?”

There’s a seize over your heart. You ignore it. “Only every other Thursday.”

“It’s Friday.”

“Huh.” You shrug. “Oops.”

Barnes snorts, and you can’t stop your gaze from flicking up to him. 

He’s still annoyingly handsome. Still glaring at you with eyes that look silver in the too-white light of the bathroom, and you feel small again. Raw. Too human. More than you’re supposed to be where it’s visible. 

Barnes doesn’t flinch at it. That same odd look flashes in his eyes as he scans over you, and when he speaks again, he’s the only thing louder than the rush of blood in your ears.

“Next time you need to do that,” he nods to the clean toilet. “Leave the door open, and I won’t have to break it.”

You blink at him. “Do-“

“Have a panic attack.” He grunts. “And fucking sleep tonight. You get mouthy when you don’t.”

And he just fucking turns and leaves. His words knock into you like a bullet, and he just walks away.

You don’t know how he keeps seeing you, when nobody is supposed to really, fully see you. Not all of you. Not past the fool’s gold you’ve turned yourself into, because then they leave. 

But Barnes is stuck here. Until Sam gives the clear, he won’t leave. It’s becoming annoyingly obvious that he won’t leave, Maybe that’s why he keeps driving right into parts of you that never see the sun. That only come out in the dead of night under stars or in pitch darkness. 

It’s probably some assistant secret you need to learn. Maybe a Hydra tactic you should familiarize yourself with, just in case. You rarely sleep, but you’ll just have to adjust the show to make him think you have. They aren’t panic attacks, but he’s too close to being right, and you’ll have to shift to match that as well. 

You just need to keep adapting. Rationalizing. 

Moving. 

You just need to keep moving, until Barnes stops trying to keep up with you.

You’re not sure what that will take.

But you’ll work it out. 

You will not let him be the thing that makes you bow. Makes you vulnerable. Makes you bend into him will, when you’ve scraped and screamed so loud to cut every leash you could off your body.

So you’ll just keep fucking moving.

——————

The past two weeks had been the longest, most confusing ones of Bucky’s life. 

Everyone liked Her. Adored Her. He’d heard nothing but genuine praise about how kind and sweet She was, and he didn’t get it. She was annoying. Beautiful and loud and smart-mouthed and annoying. She was making this as difficult as possible for him, on purpose, but everyone spoke about Her as if she was some sort of saint. 

If Bucky hadn’t been sure She was hiding something before, he was positive now. People who weren’t hiding things didn’t have carefully concealed bags under their eyes every morning. They didn’t spend their whole days in their offices, typing and reading and burying themselves where the world couldn’t see. 

People who weren’t hiding things didn’t shift in and out of masks every second. Smiling like an angel at everyone they passed and using big, quick words with an air of casual boredom, only to close the door and turn into almost a fire-spitting demon. 

But Bucky had  worked out that She was only shifting into that taunting, crude and mocking woman for him.

He also knew that it wasn’t the mask fully off. 

She’d only have it off in brief moments, when one of the suits or brittle old men would compliment Her, and her smile would flicker. When someone would thank Her, and that thing deep in her eyes would shift. Burst forward just long enough for Bucky to catch it, even when everyone else missed it. 

But that was what he did. He caught it, and threw it—loud and spitting—right back in Her face until something cracked. It was his passive plan of attack to make Her slip, and give him enough proof that She was up to something. Because no one could be truly this beautiful, truly this good, without it all being an act. 

In just two weeks, his log about Her had grown. She often spoke without thinking—or thinking too much, he couldn’t tell and that was jarring—and she always had something to say. Bucky had a feeling he could bring up any topic, and she’d have a pointless opinion. She took almost nothing seriously, but still got a harsh, almost brutal look of focus whenever she was working. She didn’t seem to believe She was better than everyone—people who did never turned into the shadow he’d often see flickering over her face and under her pretty features—but she did think she knew better. He could hear it in her voice, whenever she gave an order or direction, that there was no doubt of error.

He decided that was the reason why he’d relaxed when She’d told him to. She’d said it like an order, and he’d been a solider for so long that his body just reacted.  

It might be Her beauty, as well. She looked like shifting, shimmering light every single second, and if She’d ever stop sneering venom and making Bucky’s job impossible—his efforts doubled to try and see what She obviously didn’t want him to—She might have been attractive. Bucky might have tried to actually talk to Her, instead of tuning Her rambling and taunting out.

He was trying to tune it out.

It was harder than it should have been.

He really needed to revisit that inhuman beauty possibly caused by Hydra thing, when he had the time. It felt likely.

But he was spending too much time on Her pointless, annoying distractions. Trying not to beat himself to pieces on Her too crowded and hot and loud subways trips, trying to observe Her while still following his rule of don’t look too long.

Trying work out exactly what was eating at Her mind, what was wrong with Her that she never slept and would rub her skin like she was trying to wipe invisible grime off of it. What was causing those hitched breaths and momentarily panicked expressions, making Her breakdown on the bathroom floor when—as far as Bucky had been able to see—not a single damn thing had happened. 

It might be a guilty conscious. The knowledge that She was lying to all these people about whatever she was. 

And Bucky had yet to see a single friend of Her's. The closest he’d come was Her assistant, but that girl seemed to worship the ground She walked on, so her judgment was clouded. 

Just as Sam’s was.

Because whatever spell Her beauty and hauntingly beautiful voice was casting over people, it was keeping them from even thinking that she was capable of wrongdoing.

Bucky hadn’t dared to bring that up with Sam yet. Not until he had evidence of it. 

But he’d get that evidence. He’d finish this so that he could get the hell away from Her, and how She was taking up so much of his goddamn headspace.

He had to play his game almost every hour he was in Her presence. It was exhausting.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. It was almost midnight on a Saturday, and the carpet in Her office was brown. He liked that She used the same password for everything, because it made this easier. He didn’t like that, when he looked through Her desk, it made her seem normal. That photos of a round black cat made him imagine Her pretty face with a wrinkled nose, and a cat on Her lap. That there were obvious pictures of people who had to be Her siblings, because they all had the same nose and undertones in their skin, hair, and eye colors. That She had a family. 

As did most people who weren’t a hundred.

And Bucky had living family. His sisters had ended up with kids, and they’d ended up with kids, and life had drifted around him in a way he’d never be able to catch and drag back.

It may have to go on without Her, for the people in those photos. If Bucky’s theory was right. 

He kept looking at the fucking photos. Her siblings didn’t have that thing behind their eyes. They all had nice, attractive features, but She was the only one who was inhumanly beautiful. Entrancing. Distracting.

He needed to look away from Her, and focus on what he was doing. Finding the evidence. This was about the evidence.

He wanted to find something, some blaring red flag that would prove what She was, that this was some kind of scam, that Bucky had been right to be weary of Her. That he was not—as Sam called him—a paranoid asshole. It wasn’t paranoia if he was right.

That was the easiest want he’d ever had.  

And he hadn’t found anything yet, but he would. Her computer may be clean, but it was a company computer. All Her files might be boring numbers and long, annotated paragraphs, but She probably didn’t keep a piece of paper that read I am Hydra in Her desk. She was smart. If Bucky could offer Her one piece of praise, it would be that She seemed to be genuinely intelligent. 

That just made Her more dangerous. She’d be careful, if She was Hydra. She’d know how to hide it, which was likely why She’d gotten away with it for so long. And She had to be something. Nothing would add up if She was just the lovely woman everyone found Her to be. Nobody was simply that good and kind. Bucky hadn’t met a single person who would dedicate their lives to something like this just for the sake of being good. He’d think it was for the paycheck, but if it was for the paycheck She wouldn’t be taking the subway. It could be the connections, but every time Sam had mentioned being Captain America at dinner, She’d rolled her pretty eyes.

The eyes that held the thing. The thing that meant She simply wasn’t what she was claiming to be. 

And Bucky might be coming up empty handed—he should’ve assumed he would, he never got what he wanted—but She wasn’t innocent. She couldn’t be. Sam wasn’t finding any more leads on Hydra—meaning it was probably an inside job—and She was too smart and kind and beautiful to not be some sort of Hydra-made plant meant to drive Bucky insane with pouting smiles and mocking glares and sharp words-

“What are you doing here.”

Bucky’s head shot up, and She was right there.

It was midnight. On a Saturday. Why was She in her office a midnight on a Saturday.

“Security.” He grunted, and it wasn’t his best excuse, but it wasn’t horrible.

She saw through it anyway. 

“What security are you doing in my desk, Barnes.” She crossed Her arms, and Bucky shrugged, moving around the desk to stand before Her.

“Cybersecurity is a thing, doll-“

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped, raising Her chin to hold Bucky’s gaze. She was better at it than Sam was, and it felt a little like he was being burned from the inside.

She had to be something.

“And tell me the truth.” She hissed. “Why the fuck are you in my office.”

His jaw clenched. “I told you-“

“You lied to me.”

“You got proof of that-“

“My cybersecurity is the most tight and well-designed in the world. Tony Stark made that computer, and it’s a prototype he didn’t want to scrap, so he gave it to me. It’s unhackable, because it’s not commutable to any other system. Truth.”

Bucky frowned at Her. “Is that why you use such a stupid fucking password for it-“

“Why do you know my password?” 

Fuck.

“I-“ 

“The truth.”

Bucky stared at Her, and he was caught. She’d found him snooping, and he’d—for some reason he had no way of understanding—slipped up and revealed he’d known her password. She’d work out that he’d likely used it. His hands were covered in—thankfully metaphorical—blood.

And the only way out of this was more of a gamble than he’d want to take.

But he needed something.

So he was all in. 

“I don’t trust you,” he hissed, leaning down until he could see every perfectly placed bump on Her face, every shift and swirl of that thing behind Her eyes. “That’s why. You’re too young to have this position, nothing in your files adds up, you’ve hunched in the bathroom all week. You’re hiding something. I know you’re hiding something. Could be something with Stark, could be Hydra-“

Her eyes widened slightly, Her voice suddenly void of any smooth, careful music. It was raw. Almost unnerving.

“You think I’m Hydra?” 

“I think,” Bucky snapped, and there was no going back now. “That you’re not just some rich, happy little angel. I think everything about you is a lie-“

She laughed. Loud and furious, and Bucky was shocked it didn’t shake the earth. 

“What part of my life, James, do you think is a lie?” She took a firm step forward, and Bucky could smell Her. She smelled like flowers. She looked like the wrath of god was alight in Her body. “Is it how I’m here?” She gestured around them to the office, holding Bucky’s gaze. “Did I blackmail someone? Make a threat? Sleep my way here? Did I do something unspeakable to make someone as smart as Tony Stark think a stupid little girl could run his company?”

She laughed, and the sound was almost frightening. Bucky felt like he’d been locked into place, and she just continued.

“Or is the lie how I’m Hydra? How the only superheroes I’ve ever met are the dumbass who took me in off the street and my very dead boss, and before this I was nobody, fucking nothing, but I still somehow managed to be important enough to become a Hydra plant? What would Hydra want we me, Barnes? My stunning charisma and winning personality, that’s so clearly been able to charm and fool you? Huh? Is that what I’m here for? Am I just pretty and sweet and trying to ensnare you into Hydra’s grasp? Am I just a fucking doll for them to use?”

She spat that word, doll, and Bucky flinched. Fucking flinched. Like She was something that could actually hurt him, and not just an angry girl in the dark.

His words were caught in his throat. She was watching him like he should be doing something, but Bucky was frozen as he just stared at Her.

He’d seen horrible things. Things of nightmares, and desolation, and haunting phantoms that lined his vision all the time. And he’d done worse. His hands would always be a little sticky, and every room would never be warm enough for the frost to truly fade.

But making Her shake slightly as he just stared at Her felt like the worst thing he’d ever done. It wasn’t. Not by far.

But it goddamn felt like it. It felt like a burning arrow through his throat, because he’d never seem someone just fall like that. Into anger and fear and venom, looking like a frightened, gnashing animal or feral beast he’d try to soothe, if that was something Bucky was capable of doing.

But he wasn’t.

So he just stared.

And She deflated. Turned hollow as all the fire went out from Her eyes, leaving of the weight of that thing.

“Tell Sam I’ll do the lockdown,” She muttered, not meeting Bucky’s eyes as she turned to the door. “You can say I bullied you into quitting, or stabbed you with a stapler. I don’t care.”

The door slammed, and Bucky was alone in the dark.

He’d been wrong.

And Sam was going to fucking kill him.

End Note: I'd say unstoppable force vs. immovable object, but they're both about to be very stoppable and movable. As always, thank you so so much for reading, and please leave any thoughts or feedback if you have them!

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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Luv of how intentionally petty Rage seems

Never say never || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: thank u for the request I love it!! @ghostlythinggoingaround

Warnings: swearing, sofia is insecure abt herself. other than that, nothing really

Word count: 1,317

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

"Who are you looking at?" JJ asked, his curiosity piqued as he followed Sofia's intense gaze across the room. His eyes landed on Rafe, who stood by the pool table, exuding his usual air of arrogance. JJ let out a loud sigh and turned back to Sofia, concern etched on his face.

"Sof, you gotta stop," he said, frowning deeply. Sofia looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, her hands mechanically wiping the glasses clean behind the bar. "Stop with what?" she asked, her voice tinged with feigned ignorance.

"Thinking you have a chance with Rafe," JJ replied bluntly. Sofia's hands paused for a brief moment before she resumed her task, her shoulders tensing. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that—well, I did, but—" JJ stammered, his voice trailing off as he noticed the sadness clouding her eyes.

He sighed heavily, "Rafe doesn't do relationships, you know that, right? He'll string you along and then break your heart. Besides, he's a jackass." JJ scoffed, his eyes flicking back to Rafe, who was now laughing loudly with a group of friends.

"Who's a jackass?" a familiar voice chimed in from behind them. JJ and Sofia turned to find Sarah, John B, and Pope approaching the bar. Sarah settled into a bar stool beside JJ, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Your brother," JJ stated, his tone flat. Sarah snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. "He's worse, trust me," she said, her eyes shifting to Sofia with a knowing look. "Don't tell me you still like Rafe?" Sarah raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with incredulity.

Sofia swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sof—" Sarah began, but Sofia cut her off. "Don't. JJ's already said enough," she sighed, placing the last glass back on the rack before leaning against the counter, her posture defeated. "I just don't understand why he doesn't do relationships."

"Commitment issues, probably," Pope suggested, his eyes following the group's collective gaze towards Rafe, who was in conversation with Topper. "He's got way more issues—" John B started, but Sofia shushed him urgently.

"Stop, he's coming this way!" she whisper-yelled, quickly pretending to be busy as Rafe sauntered over. Rafe walked past them all without a second glance, his attention solely focused on the bartender at the far end of the counter. Sofia took a deep breath, mustering her courage as she approached him, ready to offer her service.

But just as she reached him, Rafe glanced her way, his expression indifferent, and turned to the other bartender to place his order. Sofia's heart sank, and she turned back to her friends, who were watching her with sympathetic eyes.

"See? He's an asshole, Sof. Don't waste your time on him," Sarah advised, her voice softening as she watched Sofia's sullen expression. "I guess," Sofia murmured, her gaze lingering on Rafe for a moment longer.

~

"What time do you get off? I was thinking we could have a fire tonight and have drinks at the chateau," John B suggested, leaning casually against the bar. "I'll be off at seven, and that sounds great," Sofia replied with a bright smile. The others chimed in with their agreement, the excitement of the plan evident in their voices.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sofia noticed you standing by the counter, catching her attention. "I'll be back," she said to her friends, making her way over to you with a welcoming smile. "Hey, can I get you something?" Sofia asked, her eyes meeting yours as you lifted your gaze from your phone, a friendly smile on your lips.

"Hi! Can I just get a Long Island Iced Tea, please?" you replied. "Sure, coming right up," she said, her smile widening as she turned to prepare the drink. As she mixed the ingredients, Sofia couldn't help but steal glances at you. Your natural beauty seemed effortless, and she felt a pang of envy. Your perfectly styled hair, flawless skin, and confident demeanor made her acutely aware of her own insecurities.

"That's a gorgeous necklace you got there," Sofia remarked, her eyes lingering on the shimmering pendant that caught the light with every movement. You smiled warmly, your fingers instinctively reaching up to toy with the delicate chain. Sofia's gaze remained fixed, silently estimating its worth and admiring its intricate design.

"Thanks, my boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday," you chuckled, a note of fondness in your voice. Sofia nodded with a smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of envy. She turned back to prepare your drink, but you called out, "Babe, did you want anything?"

Sofia's eyes widened in surprise as she turned and saw Rafe standing beside you, his arm protectively draped over your shoulder. "Whatever you're getting," he replied smoothly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You smiled at Sofia, who struggled to mask her shock and disbelief.

"Can I get another one, please?" you asked, your tone polite and cheerful. Sofia's eyes darted between you and Rafe, her heart sinking as she realized the truth: your boyfriend was Rafe, the guy who supposedly never did relationships. The realization hit her hard, leaving her momentarily stunned.

Rafe noticed the awkward silence and turned his attention to Sofia, who still held your drink. "Are you just gonna stand there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a hint of impatience.

Your eyes widened in embarrassment. "Don't be rude," you whispered to him, trying to diffuse the tension. Snapping out of her daze, Sofia mumbled, "Sorry," and placed your drink on the counter with a clatter, spilling some of its contents in her haste.

As she prepared the next drink, Sofia couldn't help but eavesdrop on your conversation with Rafe. "Do you wanna do anything this afternoon?" Rafe asked, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. "Got any ideas?" you chuckled, resting your hands on his arms, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

"Could take the boat out and have dinner?" he suggested, causing your smile to widen with excitement. "That sounds great—" you began, but were interrupted by a loud thud. "There's your drink," Sofia said, pushing the glass toward you with a bit more force than intended. You thanked her and reached for your card, but Rafe quickly swatted your hand away.

"Don't even," Rafe said playfully, making you sigh jokingly. "Rafe—" you started, but he cut you off, chuckling. "You know to just put it on my tab." Sofia's annoyance bubbled over, her fingers tapping rapidly on the counter in frustration. "Just put it on my tab, Cameron," Rafe repeated, not even glancing at her as he took both drinks.

“Thanks again,” you said with a polite smile to Sofia before walking off with Rafe. From behind the bar, Sofia watched with a mix of emotions as you settled onto Rafe’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. Laughter bubbled up between you, triggered by something one of your friends said, a scene that ignited jealousy and heartache in Sofia.

She exhaled shakily before returning to her friends, attempting to distract herself from the sight. Unbeknownst to Sofia, her friends had witnessed the entire scene. “Did you not know?” Sofia asked Sarah, wiping down the bar in an effort to focus her thoughts. Sarah hesitated before responding, her expression conflicted. “I did…” she trailed off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sofia’s voice quivered with confusion and hurt, her brows furrowing. “I didn’t know they were together!” Sarah’s voice was defensive yet apologetic. “I thought they were just hooking up, but I guess not…” She shrugged, a look of regret crossing her face.

“How long?” Sofia finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. Sarah hesitated, meeting Sofia’s gaze for a fleeting moment before answering, “About a month, now?” Sofia fell silent, her lips pressed tightly together as she struggled to maintain her composure. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them spill over.

“Shit. They’re even matching clothes and everything,” Pope muttered under his breath, the disbelief evident in his voice. His words were abruptly silenced by a firm slap from John B on his chest.

“Sofia…” JJ began, his tone soft and filled with concern. But Sofia, determined not to let her emotions show, dismissed him with a wave of her hand. A solitary tear had slipped down her cheek, betraying her true feelings, which she quickly wiped away.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They look good together anyway,” she added, casting a fleeting glance at you and Rafe. The sight of you both seemed to sting, but she tried to mask it.

Clearing her throat, Sofia straightened up, striving to maintain her composure. “I’m just gonna go back to work,” she said, her voice steadying as she turned away. With a final, determined breath, she walked off, leaving her friends behind, trying to hold herself together.

Cute little story 🥰🥰

sahm!reader feels so bad for blue collar!rafe who comes home exhausted every night, but he reassures her <3

THE SOUND OF THE GRAVEL crunching beneath tires pulls your attention to the driveway, where rafe’s truck rolls in slow, heavy. the engine cuts, but for a second, he doesn’t move. he just sits there, gripping the wheel, his head tipping back against the seat as if he’s trying to summon the energy to step out. the door then creaks open, and your chest tightens at the sight of him.

he looks wrecked. his work shirt is drenched with sweat, dust clinging to his arms, jaw clenched so tight you know he’s been grinding his teeth all day. his boots hit the ground heavier than usual, his steps slower, shoulders stiff.

“DADDY!!”

rafe straightens, turning just in time to see your almost four-year-old, emmett, running toward him, little arms stretched high, excitement radiating from every tiny step.

a groan slips from rafe’s mouth as he bends down, setting his lunchbox on the gravel with a dull thud. his muscles scream in protest, exhaustion weighing down on him, but he doesn’t hesitate—never hesitates. he scoops emmett up, pressing his son into his chest, holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“hey, buddy,” he breathes, voice rough with exhaustion, but the warmth never fades. his fingers curl around the back of emmett’s head, cradling him close, breathing him in like this moment is what’s keeping him going. you watch from the porch, heart aching, because no matter how drained rafe is, no matter how brutal the day was, he will always make time for his son. after a long moment, he sets Emmett down, ruffling his hair. “keep playing with your trucks, yeah? i need to say hi to momma.” emmett nods and runs back to his toys, shouting to himself about the made up story he created in his mind.

rafe groans as he pushes himself up, rolling his shoulders before finally making his way toward you. you meet him halfway, already reaching for him, concern written all over your face.

“rafe, you—” before you can finish, he grabs you, pulling you into his chest. he’s warm, damp with sweat, smelling like dirt and sawdust, but you don’t care. “you’re working too hard,” you murmur against him, hands pressing to his back, feeling the tension coiled there, “baby, i…i don’t want you running yourself into the ground for us.”

he pulls back, and there’s something sharp in his eyes—not anger at you, but for you, like he can’t believe you’d even say that. “baby,” he exhales, shaking his head. “you serious right now?” you blink, startled by his intensity. he scoffs, rubbing a rough hand down his face before gripping your hips, pulling you even closer.

“this is literally what i’ve been dreaming about since the day i met you.” his voice is low, firm, certain. “i told you—on our first date, i told you, this is what i wanted. i wanna work my ass off so my pretty little wife don’t have to worry ‘bout shit—not bills, not the mortgage, no car payments, not anything.” your stomach churns at his sincerity. his hands tighten, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your waist even as his voice rises, thick with emotion.

“i want you home with our babies, takin’ care of ‘em, takin’ care of the house, livin’ your best life while i handle the rest. that’s the whole point, sweetheart.” his hand slips to your belly, pressing warm and firm against the small swell of your second pregnancy. “this? you, emmett, our little girl in here? this is what keeps me goin’. you think i’m just bustin’ my ass for no reason?”

tears prick your eyes, the weight of his words hitting hard, hitting deep. “rafe, i just—” your voice wobbles, thick with emotion. “i worry about you.”

his face softens just a fraction, but his grip on you never wavers. “i love you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours, voice softer now, but no less certain. “i love our babies. i love our life.” he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “i don’t need you worrying ‘bout me, baby. i need ya’ to trust me. trust that i’m exactly where i wanna be.”

a tear slips down your cheek, and his thumb is there instantly, swiping it away. “i love you,” you whisper, voice barely audible.

his lips brush over your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “i love you more, mama.”

and in that moment, standing in the golden light of sunset, wrapped up in his arms, feeling the strength of his love like an unshakable force, hearing emmett’s voice in the background, you believe him.

This is so cute

‘Buy you the world’- Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary: reader makes a purchase without reading the information, leading to a grave disappointment and a requirement for a comforting boyfriend - one that can’t control his laughter.

Warnings: pure fluff, soft!reader x soft!Jude. Based on a mistake I made today, this is very self indulgent

A/N : thanks for your patience on Part 7, here’s a treat while you wait <3

-

Having gone out to brunch today with your friends, you lay exhausted on the soft sofa in Jude’s apartment waiting for him to get back from his long day of training with the team.

One of your friends bought her very young sibling with her and accompanying them, lots of toys.

One that peaked your interest was a small, soft, light green crochet whale, and to make it better, it was lavender scented.

Supposedly it was meant to calm the young child down and provide emotional support, some of which you felt you needed, Deserved.

Being in a relationship with an incredibly handsome and popular footballer meant attention from the public, and attention meant hate.

You were used to it by now, your relationship never actually confirmed publicly but you had been spotted at games and the both of you had been seen sharing small touches and kisses in public.

Yourself and Jude decided that it wasn’t anyone else’s business and that you would take a more permanent soft launch approach, private but not secret.

You felt that it was fully justified if you bought yourself a little emotional support whale to calm your anxiety at matches and regarding the hate you did receive on social media, or so you told yourself.

Maybe you just wanted a little stuffed teddy bear, it was really cute after all.

So there you lay, sprawled out on the sofa with the open fire on in Jude’s lounge, a blanket on top of you and some cookies baking in the oven for ‘Jude when he gets back’.

Your laptop, the bottom slightly warm from being in use, perched on your stomach as you browse through the endless pages on Etsy, the search bar claiming ‘Small Crochet Whale’.

The expanse of choice would have stumped you, had you not been a student and therefore on a tight budget.

Jude, being the gentleman he is, always tried to treat you. Shower you with gifts and try giving you money whenever you’d go out with your friends, making it ‘his treat’.

The last thing you wanted to do, however, was make him think for a second that that’s what you were with him for, so of course you always declined.

Seeing the cheapest option, you clicked on the little light yellow whale, deciding it was fate in the sense that the colour matches Jude’s team.

You sign in to Etsy using your email before entering your PIN number from your card.

A large smile pulls across your face as you look at the large words written across your screen.

‘Order Confirmed, check email for further information’

You closed your laptop just as you hear the keys jingling in the door.

“Love? I’m home!” You hear Jude’s deep voice shout, his accent thick as the tiredness makes itself apparent.

“I’m here!” You call back to him, hearing his footsteps before seeing his face in front of you, leaning over the sofa.

He leans down towards you before pressing a kiss to your lips in some sort of Spider-man style given the position you two are in.

“How was your day?” You ask your boyfriend sweetly, pulling him round to sit on the now empty space on the sofa, after moving your legs into a crossed position and sitting up.

“It was okay, im just so tired” he says as he cups your face with his hand, the expanse of your cheek becoming slightly cold as his thumb brushes delicately over your cheek.

“Well luckily for you, I made cookies. Fancy one with a cup of tea?” You ask and instantly a smile is spread across his face.

“Do I ever tell you how much I love you?” He teases, his hand grabbing yours as you try to get up and walk to the kitchen, pulling you to stand between his legs as he spreads them slightly.

“No I don’t think so?” You tease sarcastically, lying through your teeth knowing full well he tells you any chance he gets.

“Well I Love you, so much” he says as he puts his hands on your hips and pulls you into him for a hug.

Eventually you pull away but pull him up as you do so.

“Come on, they should be done mister” you say to him and walk away leaving him trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

“Oi! Say it back!” He says as you laugh and begin to run towards the kitchen, hearing him follow you before you are scooped up into the air and span around as your boyfriend lifts you off your feet.

-

“You did what?” Jude laughs loudly, his half eaten cookie now being discarded on the little plate next to his mug of tea.

“I ordered a little whale” you say, a pout forming at your lips as you show him a screenshot of the whale plushie.

“Are you being serious? Why?” He laughs but he can’t help but melt slightly at the sight of you all pouty.

“It was cute, it smells of lavender, and it reminds me of you” you say smiling.

“Oi. Because it’s a whale it reminds you of me?” Jude says, dramatically slapping his hand to his chest in mock offence.

“No! You idiot” you laugh as you ball up a napkin and throw it at him.

He smiles at your laugh as he looks at you adoringly, loving that you care so much about a stupid little yellow whale.

-

Later on, the two of you lay in bed, the curtains firmly drawn shut as the day beings to fade out, the both of you scrolling through your phones, Jude occasionally showing you a tiktok he finds funny.

You decided to check your emails, checking when the whale will arrive.

You open the email to find the words: ‘download your order here’

Your brows furrow in confusion.

What did it mean, download your order?

You click download and open the file to see a tutorial on how to make a crochet whale, a step by step guide.

You shake your head slightly before opening Etsy on your phone.

You type in the same thing before finding the supplier you ordered from.

You click on the tab and read again to see that the thing you ordered, was a pattern and step-by-step guide.

Not a crochet baby whale.

Instantly, your eyes begin to sting with tears.

Not only with embarrassment but also disappointment. You weren’t going to get your plushie in the end but also you wasted your precious money, money which you worked over time, along with your studies to earn.

Upon hearing a slight sniffle, Jude instantly turns to look at you to make sure you’re okay.

Seeing a tear roll down your cheek, he immediately sits up to look at you.

“Love? What’s wrong?” He says as his thumb brushes away your tears gently.

“I didn’t order the actual whale” you sniff, “I offered a tutorial of how to make the whale”

Jude stares at you blankly as you look up at him with watery eyes.

His mouth twitched slightly as the skin around his eyes crease.

“Jude” and that’s all it takes.

Laughter immediately fills the room as your boyfriend throws his head back as chuckles rip through his body.

You stare at him blankly now, both taken off guard but not entirely surprised by his behaviour.

That still didn’t stop more tears from spilling out your eyes though.

“Oh baby I didn’t mean it” he says as he looks at you and pulls you into his chest, both arms wrapped around your frame.

“I’m so sad, I really wanted that whale” you say, your speech broken up by deep breaths.

“How could you be so naïve, for that price you were never going to get one?” Jude says, his voice sweet and dripping with love, no malice intended.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to save money” you say as you rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Well you know I’d buy you the world, a whale won’t hurt” he says as he kisses your forehead leaving you drifting off to sleep with a smile.

-

A few days later, back at your own home, a parcel turns up at your door.

You take it back into your room before opening it.

Inside is a note reading: “I told you, I’d give you everything you want and more”

You smile before unwrapping the gift to find multiple crochet whales of all colours and sizes, a hint of lavender floating through the air.

-

Check my masterlist for more fics!!

Hope you guys love this little piece, please like, comment and reblog if you can. It means the world to have you here 🤍

Lookin forward to part two in the future

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

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comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant y/n and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

tag list

So cute 🥰🥰

you belong with me - gr63

summary: george has been in love with his best friend for 15 years, but she can’t see that she belongs with him

folkie radio: MY FIRST GEORGE FIC!!!! idk why it took me so long to write for him but i hope you like this !! send your feedback <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 87,846 others

yourinstagram finally race week! can't believe it's been 10 years of watching this one from the paddock. from sneaking into george's garage during f3 days to now having proper passes (still can't get used to saying "my best friend is an F1 driver" 😅). ready to watch @/georgerussell63 crush it this weekend!

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username1 MERCEDES QUEEN

username2 you guys are literally soulmates just date already

alex_albon The OG paddock bestie 🙌

└ yourinstagram and you know it

landonorris still waiting for my batch of cookies tbh

└ charles_leclerc Get in line

└ yourinstagram LMAOOO

username3 bestie you spelled wife wrong

username4 10 years of friendship and still going strong

username5 someone convince me they're not secretly married

georgerussell63 Wouldn't be the same without you here! Even if you still support Lewis more than me 🙄

└ yourinstagram HES THE GOAT!!!

└ username1 she’s so real

username6 we need more paddock content of you two!

username7 "best friends" sure jan

username8 george's smile whenever she’s around >>>>>

username9 MY FAVORITE DUOOOOO

username10 no one does best friends better than them

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris 1,028,946 others

georgerussell63 P1 BABY!!! Thank you to everyone for the amazing support - winning here in Austria feels amazing. Special shoutout to @/yourinstagram for the lucky socks tradition since F3 - even if they still have tiny race cars on them 😂 Team did a mega job this weekend! 🏆

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username1 THIS IS MY GOATTTTT

username2 GEORGIE I LOVE YOU

lewishamilton Great drive mate! 🙌

yourinstagram those socks won you GP3 AND F2, respect the lucky socks russell 😤

└ username1 YOU KEEP HIM HUMBLE YN

└ username2 whats the real lucky charm the socks or yn

└ georgerussell63 Fine fine, the socks stay

alex_albon expose him more about the socks pls @/yourinstagram

landonorris lucky socks with race cars?? we need pics

└ georgerussell63 Absolutely not, those pics are staying buried

username3 yn has been his real lucky charm since day 1 😭

username4 not the childhood best friends to lovers story we're witnessing

username5 the socks story is too cute i can't

username6 THIS IS MY GOAT

mercedesamgf1 Brilliant drive today George! 💫

username7 how long before he proposes guys??taking bets

username8 find someone who supports you like yn supports george

username9 that post-race hug though 👀

username10 These two give me hope in love

liked by username1, username2 and 15,378 others

f1_insiderinfo🚨 EXCLUSIVE: Mercedes driver George Russell spotted having an intimate dinner with mystery girl in Monaco! The pair were seen laughing and sharing food. Sources say they've been meeting here regularly. Has Britain's most eligible bachelor finally been taken?

view all comments

username1 MY BROTHER IN CHRIST THATS YN

username2 y’all must be new here 😭

username3 HEEEELP see we’re not delusional for saying they need to be a couple

username4 ffs that’s his best friend story being weird

yourinstagram ah yes, the very romantic dinner where I stole half his pasta and made him watch tiktoks of cats. very intimate. also that "usual spot" is just where they make his favorite tiramisu 🙄

└ georgerussell63 you INHALED half my pasta, there was no stealing involved. also you promised not to expose the tiramisu thing

└ yourinstagram what, scared the other drivers will find out you have a sweet tooth Mr. Professional Athlete? 👀

username5 not them exposing each other in the comments

username6 the way they banter like an old married couple

username7 "mystery girl" my foot, that's his other half since forever

username8 someone get me a friendship like this 😩

username9 SO TRUE YN AND GEORGE ENDGAME

username10 this is peak comedy

liked by username1, username2 and 12,836 others

russell.archive A thread of George Russell and his best friend YN through the years 🤍

Slide 1: 2014 - Their high school years

Slide 2: 2015 - Their prom photo

Slide 4: 2021 - His first points with Williams

Slide 5: 2024 - Another season together

The "just friends" agenda for 10 years and counting... 🤔

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username1 WAIT THEY'RE NOT DATING??? All this time I thought...

username2 the prom photo is giving soulmates idc idc

username3 slide 4… that's love

username4 not me thinking they were secretly married this whole time

username5 the way his race engineer calls her "the mrs" though

username6 look at how young they were in the first pic 🥺

username7 their height difference stayed exactly the same I'm crying

username8 everyone saying "best friends" meanwhile they act like this

username9 SOULMATES

yourinstagram omg the prom photo 😭 remember when you stepped on my feet during the entire first dance @/georgerussell63

└ georgerussell63 excuse me? who forgot the corsage at home and made us late?

└ username1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

└ username2 not me crying over this

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texts between george and yn

2019 rookies forever groupchat

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by jamessmith_eng, georgerussell63 and 82,468 others

yourinstagram date night 🍷thanks for a lovely evening @/jamessmith_eng

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username1 WAIT WHAT ABOUT GEORGE???

username2 someone check on george rn 😭

username3 the way my heart just DROPPED

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

username4 this has to be a joke right???

username5 10 years of analysis gone wrong...

landonorris inch resting

└ username1 LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW

username6 Not me having to explain to my bf that no, George and YN weren't actually dating this whole time

username7 guys can you please be normal for once? george and yn are FRIENDS stop being weird

username8 why is everyone being so dramatic?

username9 HAPPY FOR YOUUU

jamessmith_eng ❤️

liked by username1, username2 and 27,038

russell.archive The way he immediately looks for her after every race 🥺 (Hungary GP, 2024)

Scientists still trying to figure out how these two aren't together...

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username1 THE WAY HE LIGHTS UP WHEN HE SEES HER

username2 bro runs faster to her than he does on track

username3 10 year study of their relationship and still confused

username4 that hug is not giving "just friends" idc idc

username5 THE KISS HELLO

username6 not her wearing his mercedes jacket

username7 remember when he was sick and she flew across 3 countries just to make him soup??

username8 the race engineer calling her his better half I CANNOT

username9 someone tell that alpine engineer to back off please x

username10 very platonic sure

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, jamessmith_eng and 92,268 others

yourinstagram triple header concluded ‼️oh and i have a boyfriend now @/jamessmith_eng

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username1 OH-

username2 this feels... wrong

username3 not me zooming in to see if she's still wearing her matching bracelet with george

lilymhe cuties 🤍🤍

username4 THE ALPINE GUY?

username5 why is everyone acting weird like yn and george are just FRIENDS

landonorris 🤔

└ username1 he’s one of us

└username2 HEEEELP LANDO

└ yourinstagram you’re strange

username6 my heart breaks i really thought she was with george

username7 GEORGE’S SILENCE IS SO LOUD

username8 no like from george either 😭

jamessmith_eng 😍😍

└ username1 UM NO LEAVE OUR FAMILY ALONE

└ username2 go back to alpine

└ yourinstagram ❤️

username9 I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES

username10 i know george and yn are just friends but omfg this feels wroooong

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 876,366 others

georgerussell63 Gained nine places today but overall the damage was done yesterday. Congrats to LH and the team on the podium. We have another chance to fight before the summer break in Belgium. Bring it on.

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username1 no yn mention??? are you okay???

username2 first race post this without tagging yn i'm worried

username3 the way he usually writes "couldn't have done it without my lucky charm”

lewishamilton incredible drive 👏🏾

landonorris most depressing caption i've ever seen mate

└ username1 HE KNOWS 😭

└ username2 he’s so annoying

username4 where's the usual "special thanks to my favourite paddock menace"

username5 he's posted about yn in every race post for YEARS this is not a drill

username6 even the emojis are gone 😭

username7 BRO IS DEVASTATED and not only about the race

yourinstagram no selfie? 🥺 breaking tradition much

└ username1 CRYING

└ username2 george why are you breaking tradition

username8 alpine guy better make yn happy at least

username9 GEORGIE I BELIEVE IN YOU

username10 the damage in question was un hard launching her bf

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texts between george and yn

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liked by jamessmith_eng, lilymhe and 86,992 others

yourinstagram coffee runs with this oneee 🤍 @/jamessmith_eng

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username1 isn't that… george's usual coffee spot??

username2 the way she used to do this with george every race weekend 💔

username3 why does this feel wrong

iamrebeccad ❤️

francisca.cgomes i miss youuuuu

username4 BE NORMAL IN THIS COMMENT SECTION CHALLENGE

username5 she and george are endgame tho idc

username6 the wasy geroge never likes her posts with her tho

landonorris 🤐

└ username1 LANDO STOP

└ username2 he has no chill

└ yourinstagram i never understand what u mean

└ alex_albon oh honey

└ username3 IM WHEEZING

jamessmith_eng My ❤️

└ username1 i don't like his vibe george aside

└ yourinstagram love youuu

liked by username1, username2 and 16,038 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: George Russell with mystery brunette at London restaurant 👀

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username1 HELLO??' SINCE WHEN??

username2 yn's twitter likes suddenly very aggressive

username3 someone check on yn PLEASE

username4 the way she's sitting in yn's usual spot i feel sick

username5 toto watching his team's morale depend on these two idiots

username6 th groupchat must be wild rn

username7 GEORGIE WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGG

username8 ou george boyfriend era?

username9 this is alpine guy's fault

username10 THAT SHOULD BE HIM AND YN

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

2019 rookies forever groupchat

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liked by jamessmith_eng, francisca.cgomes and 83,044 others

yourinstagram date with my favorite human 💕thank you for making me smile x @/jamessmith_eng

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username1 okay this might be cute

username2 CRYING AGAIN

username3 THAT SHOULD BE GEORGE

jamessmith_eng Perfect day with my perfect girl ❤️

└ username2 ewww

└ username1 come on they're happy stop being weird

└ yourinstagram 🥺🥺🥺

lilymhe we should have a double date!

└ alex_albon we're kinda busy

└ username2 LORD

└ username3 ALEX YOU'RE INSANE

└ username4 he said im with my boy george forever

└ yourinstagram buzzkill

username5 george didn't like this post either

username6 this is how we can get rid of him

username7 why are some people so weid about them yn and george are FRIENDS

username8 i want this

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 839,022 others

georgerussell63 Some traditions never change. Pre-race selfie and coffee with my best friend #15YearsAndCounting

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username1 I LOVE THEM SM

username2 george russell choosing violence today

username3 HE TAGGED IT 15 YEARS AND COUNTING I'M SCREAMING

mercedesamgf1 🤍

username4 GEORGE MARKING HIS TERRITORY

username5 james has been real quiet since this dropped

landonorris territorial much?

└ username1 LANDO STOP THIS MADNESS

└ georgerussell63 You're so strange mate

└ username2 SURE GEORGE play dumb we'll play along

yourinstagram LOVE YOU GEORGIE BOY!

└ username1 girl he loves you but like loves LOVES you

└ username2 wake up he's in love with you

└ georgerussell63 ❤️

username6 whe said who's james we don't know her

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texts between george and yn

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liked by francisca.cgomes, jamessmith_eng and 86,370 others

yourinstagram thank you for the flowers and for always finding your way back to me @/jamessmith_eng 🤍

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username1 GIRL

username2 this is the 4th "second" chance but ok

username3 not the apology flowers AGAIN

lewishamilton 👀

└ username1 EVEN LEWIS KNOWS

└ username2 PLEASE

username4 the whole garage pretending we didn't hear them fighting yesterday

alex_albon 🤦‍♂️

└ username1 ALEX IS HIS BIGGEST HATER

username5 somebody check on george

username6 girl get up

username7 can pierre and este sabotage him or something 😭

jamessmith_eng Love you baby ❤️

└ yourinstagram love you too x

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georgerussell63 has added to their stories

replies:

username1 GEORGE SWIFTIE CONFIRMED

username2 taylor’s version too

charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂

alex_albon YOU FINALLY EMBRACED THAT YOU’RE TAYLOR SWIFT

└ georgerussell63 don’t push it

landonorris JUST TELL HER

pierregasly Whats this supposed to mean

yourinstagram YOU’RE SUCH A SWIFTIEEEE

└ georgerussell63 I love the lyrics of that one :)

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liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 98,749 others

yourinstagram 15 years of friendship and watching you live your dream from the grandstands, and i still get butterflies every time that 63 crosses the line 🤍 couldn't be prouder of my best friend. race day ready as always @/georgerussell63 (still wearing the lucky charm bracelet you got me when we were 12 btw 😉)

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username1 MY FAMILY

username2 IM SOBBING

username3 james from alpine found shaking

lewishamilton 🖤

username4 THE KARTING PHOTO I'M SOBBING

landonorris remember when she used to hide behind trees to watch him practice?

└ yourinstagram LANDO DELETE THIS

└ username1 I LOVE THEM

username5 it has always been HIM

georgerussell63 Still can't believe you kept that bracelet

└ yourinstagram it's my good luck charm, you're not getting it back russell

└ georgerussell63 Wouldn't dream of it x

└ yourinstagram better not crash today, i'm wearing it

└ georgerussell63 Wouldn't dare disappoint my number 1 fan

└ yourinstagram since karting days

└ georgerussell63 And counting ❤️

└ username1 DID WE JUST WITNESS A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL?

└ username2 THEY CANT JUST DO THIS IN PUBLIC

username6 yeah they’re in love and everyone knows it but them

username7 james alpine you are BONES

username8 JUST GET MARRIED

username9 this slow burn friends to lovers idiots in love…

username10 lando and alex screaming rn

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,022,497 others

georgerussell63 Found out she's still terrible at paddle after 15 years. Some things never change 🏸

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username1 girl whatever he said wasn't THAT funny you're just in love

username2 the way she looks at him vs the way she looks at james- anyway

mercedesamgf1 🖤

username3 NO ALPINE BOYFRIEND IN SIGHT WE WON

username4 the way she only laughs like that with george

username5 yn looking at george vs yn looking at james: a thesis

kimi.antonelli Great day 👏

landonorris "terrible at paddle" mate you dropped your racquet 3 times

└ georgerussell63 Trying to make her feel better

└ alex_albon by embarrassing yourself? smooth

└ username1 THIS IS MY FAMILY

└ username2 best trio forever

username6 not yn pulling a zendaya

yourinstagram i'm not that bad!

└ georgerussell63 You hit yourself with the racquet

└ yourinstagram you DISTRACTED me

└ georgerussell63 By existing?

└ yourinstagram by being annoying

└ username3 THE TENSION IS KILLING ME

username7 ou james don’t make that face

username8 i feel like something is shifting and these two will confess soon

username9 JUST KISS ALREADY

username10 the best friends secretly in love with each other of it all

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texts between george and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 102,927 others

yourinstagram always 🤍

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username1 THE WAY I SCREAMED

username2 FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY

username3 that's george's hand i've studied it for 5 years I KNOW

mercedesamgf1 🥹

└ username1 toto just fist bumped lewis in the garage

landonorris took you long enough

└ username2 LANDOOO DONT CLOCK HER LIKE THAT

username4 the childhood friends to lovers pipeline never fails

username5 the easy we all just KNOW they finally confessed

username6 AND FUCK THAT JAMES GUY

username7 DO A PROPER HARD LAUCH

georgerussell63 ❤️

└ yourinstagram🤍

username8 if look idiots in love in urban dictionary a pic of george and yn shows up

username9 MY PARENTS

username10 plot twist this is actually the alpine guy 😭

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2019 rookies forever groupchat

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liked by username1, username2 and 19,738 others

f1gossip GEORGE AND YN AT THE LAS VEGAS PADDOCK RIGHT NOW THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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username1 OMFG

username2 I CANT BELIEVE THIS

username3 james found crying in alpine

username4 NO WAY FINALLY

username5 THESE TWO IDIOTS FINALLY REALIZED

username6 i’m crying, this is the softest love story ever

username7 ya conspiracy girlies were always right !!!!!!

username8 we witnessed this best friends to lovers slow burn happen in real time i can’t believe this

username9 NOT ME CRYING AT THIS

username10 guys they’re KISSING like WE USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THESE

username11 george finally grew balls and confessed

username12 JAMES FROM ALPINE YOU’RE BONES

username13 WATCH GEORGE WIN TOMORROW

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 102,836 others

yourinstagram not just the race you won today mr russell 🏆🤍

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username1 THE WAY HE RAN STRAIGHT TO HER

username2 YOUR SMILE WHEN HE PICKED YOU UP

username3 the way james had to watch this from p7 💀

mercedesamgf1 Best vegas grand prix ever confirmed 👏

landonorris get a room

└ yourinstagram we did

└ landonorris HELLO???

└ username1 I HAD THE SAME REACTION LANDO

└ username2 no fucking way

username3 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY EYES

username4 they had been in love since forever like we could SEE IT it was about time they realized

username5 HE. GOT. THE. GIRL

username6 george russell you fucking did it

username7 IDIOTS IN LOVE SLOWBURN TROPE I FUCKING LOVE IT

username8 YABADABADOOOOO WE WERE RIGHT ALL THE TIME

username9 a love story fifteen years in the making

username10 EVERYTHING FALLS INTO PLACE

georgerussell63 Still can't believe you're mine

└ yourinstagram always have been. just took me a while to realize

└ georgerussell63 Worth every second of waiting 🤍

└ username1 IM SOBBING AGAIN

└ username2 this is the most beautiful thing ever

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 2,018,476 others

georgerussell63 Vegas ‘24. Won more than just a race tonight.

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username1 SOBBING AGAIN

username2 i still can’t quite believe this

username3 GEORGE RUSSELL THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

alex_albon boy went from you belong with me era to lover era real quick

└ georgerussell63 Stop with the Taylor Swift references

└ landonorris NEVER

└ username1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭😭

username4 THIS IS BETTER THAN ANY ROMANCE MOVIE

username5 alex and lando screaming somewhere because of this

username6 imagine being that alpine guy right now LMFAO

username7 they’re proof that real love always finds a way

lewishamilton Prod of you mate. On and off track 🖤

└ username1 AWEEEEEE

username8 best friends to lovers Y E S

username9 the fact that george waited YEARS for her and watched her with other guys but got her in the end. THIS IS TRUE LOVE

username10 this is way too pure

yourinstagram quite the victory lap mr russell

└ georgerussell63 Had to make it special for my special girl

└ yourinstagram you’re such a sap

└ georgerussell63 Your sap tho. Officially now

└ yourinstagram was always yours. just took me 15 years to realize 🤍

Adorable 🥰

‎ SLEEPY KISSES

summary: rafe is extra clingy when he’s half asleep, and he loves to shower you with kisses before going to bed.

he was always so clingy when he was sleepy. his half asleep state was the most adorable thing you´ve ever seen.

he climbed into bed with you, with a soft grunt. his cheek squishing against the pillow, as he stared at you with those sleepy beautiful blue eyes, admiring you silently. "You going to sleep?" you asked, looking down at him, your fingers reaching over and giving his head a soft little massage.

a small hum left his lips as he felt your fingers "yeah." he mumbled, his voice a silent whisper, you let out a small giggle "Goodnight, baby." you said in a loving voice. he frowned "i gotta give you goodnight kisses though." he stated as he propped himself up on his elbows

"you can barely keep your eyes open," you teased, his pout deepened.

He shook his head "don´t matter, baby." he mumbled, his face was just inches from yours.

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. It was slow and lazy, just like him in that moment, warm and full of affection. He pulled back only slightly, his blue eyes fluttering half-open again as he whispered, “Goodnight kiss number one.” he smiled lazily

His lips moving across your cheek, pressing soft kisses all around your face.

he kissed you again, this time a little longer, with his fingers lazily grazing your arm. “goodnight kiss number two.” you chuckled "how many more?" you smiled, as his lips moved over to press more kisses all over your face

"one more." his voice quiet and lazy. He kissed you again, this time more passionate, and longer than the others. "goodnight kiss number three." he smiled against your lips, as he pulled away, and shut his eyes.

he’d already collapsed halfway onto you, his head resting against your chest, his breathing slowing.

His stubbornness gave way to sleep, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through his buzzed hair, whispering, “goodnight, rafe.”

‎‎ ‎‎ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 , 𝐛𝐞𝐚

𝐚/𝐧 — my shayla :(( i apolgoize for any misspells or bad grammar, english is not my first language.

@marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm @sturniolossss @mattsbrowser @sturnlsstuff @chrissweetheart @lizzyzzn @sophand4n4