Do You Want Me To Help You?

★ MASTERLIST

it's nice to have a friend lando is one of your closest friends… until he sleeps with you and ghosts you. part one ★ part two ★ part three ★ part four ★ part five ★ part six ★ part seven ★ part eight ★ part nine ★ part ten ★ part eleven ★ part twelve ★ part thirteen ★ part fourteen ★ part fifteen ★ part sixteen ★ part seventeen ★ part eighteen ★ part nineteen ★ part twenty ★ part twenty one ★ part twenty two ★ part twenty three ★ part twenty four ★ part twenty five ★ part twenty six ★ part twenty seven ★ part twenty eight ★ part twenty nine ★ part thirty ★ part thirty one ★ part thirty two ★ part thirty three

bonus written parts: bonus part one

blue+red

Honestly Best thing I’ve ever read ngl!😍

❣️!Love to hate you!❣️

Pairing: kylian mbappe X fem OC (Cherrie)

Word count : 6.2k

Warnings : kylian and Cherrie being mean little bitches to each other. (With love though). Love/hate. Mostly fluff . Enjoy xoxo

The players stood gathered in a close circle by the edge of the pitch as they all looked over to the tunnel with various expressions on their faces .

Some of amusement , a little bit of worry but mostly exasperation as they watched kylian lean against the wall beside the tunnel with a face full of thunder as he looked down at his watch impatiently .

Neymar was the first one to break the uneasy silence that had settled between them as they all waited for the real shit show to began. It was surprisingly off schedule today as usually they would arrive to the pitch to the drama already having begun.

But a certain someone was late.

And with each minute that passed with no sign of Cherrie appearing , kylian's face grew more and more pinched .

He was seconds away from starting to tap his foot like a pissed off parent too.

"Do you think it's ever going to stop?" Neymar mused as he leant his elbow against lionel's shoulder , ignore the look his friend gave him as he put all his weight onto his side.

Both Ramos and achraf pursed their lips and simply looked over at him like he had said something stupid.

Even Lionel snorted . Shaking his head like a disapproving father would.

"Is that a no then?" He asked again just to be sure. Grinning when they all rolled their eyes at him.

Ramos let out out a amused laugh , grinning to himself as they all watched the woman of the hour slowly start to appear from the end of the tunnel.

They could see her dragging her feet with sunglasses over her face , hesitantly peering around the corner as though she was about to face a fire breathing dragon.

She wasn't far off. Because the minute kylian clocked her arriving out of the corner of his eye, he almost starting breathing steam from his ears as he huffed and pushed himself off the wall quickly .

Stomping over there till he was stood in front of the tunnel with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a cold glare already being levelled in her direction.

It was no secret to anyone that the two players just didn't seem to get on.

No matter how many team bonding exercises that they had been forced to participate in , each one had ended with the both of them in a screaming match while their friends had to rush over and physically separate them to stop a crime from taking place .

Both of them would be pointing fingers at the other in blame , refusing to admit which one of them had started it this time .

Although it didn't really matter who started it because the argument never seemed to fucking end.

Their friends had begun to understand the phrase of 'never go to bed angry with your partner' because they realised that it was applied to the pitch too.

Because when Cherrie and kylian left the match angry at each other , it wouldn't just be left at that. The bitterness and anger would then be dragged into the next day , and the next and the next .

They no longer argued about anything that made sense either .

At the beginning most of their fighting had been because of the fact that Cherrie was very close friends with Erling haaland.

And for some reason , kylian, had stupidly just expected her to let her friendship with his rival fade to nothing when she had arrived at psg as the newest player on their team.

But she hadn't because she simply told him that she didn't give a shit about how he felt about haaland , he was her friend , not his, she wasn't doing anything wrong and she wasn't about to lose a decades worth of friendship to soothe kylian's pride! No fucking way.

It had all went rapidly down hill after that.

With kylian deeming her a traitor and accusing her of probably telling Erling all of their tactics like a two faced snake .

Lionel had to physically grab a hold of Cherrie before she tried to de-kneecap their star player .

They had quickly learned that day that Cherrie had a mouth of a sailor and tongue like a fucking razor when she was upset .

Because the curses and insults that had started flying out of her mouth towards the player were... honestly , very impressive and more than a little scary.

She wasn't afraid to get up in his face and dish back what he spat out.

If kylian 'accidentally' tackled her during training , Then she 'accidentally' kicked him in the balls with the studded heel of  her boot facing up.

Things got ridiculously petty , incredibly fast.

Although it brought some amusement to their friends to see the both of them constantly competing against each other , even though they were on the same team.

Several times their coach and their team had warned the two Young players that they needed to put their differences aside and become a United front. That they needed to stop being so prideful and become friends.

Both of them had apparently went deaf during that meeting because not even the next day they had all stood back and watched in disbelief as they started rolling around on the pitch fighting together , kicking at each other and cursing each other out like little kids after kylian had once again 'accidentally' took the ball from her .

The ball had became long forgotten when Cherrie had tackled him to the floor and put kylian in a headlock. Leaving their teammates to rush over and tried to separate them.

His friend , achraf, had been in disbelief as he watched his best friend refuse to stop winding her up even when he was being choked out.

'Is that the best you got snake?!' He had merely hissed back at her as he threw his body back so the both went sprawling back onto the pitch , Cherrie still refused to let his head go even as the referee had been blowing his whistle above them like a mad man.

In the end the both of them had been red carded and sent off the pitch like naughty school kids . The two of them still pushing and shoving at each other's body as they stormed off , still insulting each other childishly . Not caring that their manager looked like he wanted to kill them.

And it hasn't gotten much better after that.

Only their friends found it more than a little strange how that despite kylian's constant vocal 'hatred.' Of Cherrie , he couldn't seem to leave her alone!

Lionel had been the first one to point it out . After Watching kylian lean forward in his seat once Cherrie had been sent off the pitch with an injury from a particularly nasty tackle .

Kylian hasn't been playing that match but Lionel had felt like he had been from the constant shouting and personal refereeing he was doing from beside him.

Every time that Cherrie had the ball , kylian would be muttering something about how she wasn't doing it up to his standard .

Like 'she was too slow on that tackle' or his favourite 'she should have just taken the shot!' Even though she was not even halfway close to the goal.

Yet when they had watched the other team start to target Cherrie and get more careless and dirty with their tackles .

Kylian had turned into a mega motormouth.

He had started cursing out every single player that even so much as nudged her . Snapping insults about the player that had absolutely nothing to do with football at all.

Lionel had then noticed the way that kylian had been unable to sit still after she had gotten injured, growing more antsy when she refused to be pulled out of the game. Determined that she could play on.

Kylian had been huffing and puffing beside him like a concerned mother hen.

"She's lost her mind!" He had exclaimed as he glared down at the pitch to where she was stumbling along.

He then turned to him with a scowl "you see what I mean? She does stupid things! She's going to hurt herself even more! And it's her birthday soon. Does she want to party with a limp?!" He sounded far too concerned for someone that apparently hated her guts.

Lionel had tried to calm him down. Aware of the cameras panning in the direction for their reaction.

"She'll be okay. She's strong." He had simply told him.

Only for his eyes to widen in surprise when kylian snapped his head over to him quickly , pulling a face like he was the stupid one.

Scoffing loudly "she's just pretends to be! She won't admit that somethings wrong. She could literally be bleeding from her eyes and she would tell us that it was just 'a headache' and that it's 'no big deal!" He mocked her girly voice , imitating her childishly while scowling with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for her to be substituted out. 

Lionel couldn't help but grin a little at the clear worry that was written across the young players face as he realised then that perhaps kylian didn't hate her as much as he liked to make out.

Realising that it might have been the green little bug of jealously that was making him act so sour towards her.

Because he was certain then that if Cherrie hadn't had been such close friends with haaland, that their relationship would have been completely different.

He could even faintly remember from a couple of years ago when he had spotted kylian watching a video of her that a fan had made with a smile on his face and his eyes glued to her in awe.

At the time Lionel had teased him lightly "you like her? She's very pretty and a great player." He had said .

unaware that two years later that exact same girl would been joining their team and completely changing kylian's life.

Kylian had just bashfully chuckled and shrugged his shoulders a little sheepishly as he angled his phone towards him so he could show him a clip of Cherrie bicycling the ball into the back of the net.

"I thinks she going to become a top player. Everybody seems to love her too.." he had sighed a little like a boy with a crush.

“It's like watching a supermodel play football. No doubt she already has a boyfriend." He had muttered enviously .

Lionel had just patted him on the shoulder encouragingly and said a "you never know what will happen."  before leaving him to it.

He couldn't have been more right if he tried.

Because he hadn't expected kylian to suddenly decide to hate her guts when he finally had his chance to know her either . Who would have?

Instead he was stuck watching kylian pretend that he didn't care at all while his actions showed the exact opposite .

He said one thing but did another . Lionel thought amusedly as he watched kylian lean forward in his seat as Cherrie finally hobbled her way over to the bench.

Immediately she looked kylian in the eye and scowled .

“I don't want to hear it!" She warned him already knowing what he was thinking.

Kylian scoffed at her, unimpressed as his eyes flickered down to her swelling ankle with a glare.

Only Lionel could see the way his hand was clenching and unclenching on his lap anxiously as though he wanted to reach out and help her.

Instead he snapped at her "that was incredibly stupid! You should have come straight off! Did that tackle make you lose what little brain cells you have left as well?!" His voice rose angrily .

Cherrie just flipped him off as she went up to the seats behind them, picking the one that was furthest away from his.

Pulling off her shoe she flung it to the side with a wince . Then she pulled off her shin guard and rolled off her sock, assessing her throbbing foot.

Waving off the medic who had came over with a Frown.

“just need some painkillers and it will be fine." She had muttered stubbornly .

Swallowing the pills dry when the medic had handed her them before reluctantly leaving her be when she refused to let them help anymore.

Kylian finally had enough and abruptly got to his feet . Not uttering a word to either of them as he stomped out of view .

Leaving Cherrie to scoff to herself, pouting a little as she sunk back into her seat to get comfortable for the rest of the game that was left to watch.

"He's ridiculous. You would think that I deliberately made that player tackle me with the way he's acting."  She huffed .

Lionel looked over at her with a slight frown, shaking his head at her.

"You must admit you're a little stubborn . You shouldn't have kept playing. You know better than that. “ He scolded her lightly , being the only person that she would let do so.

She respected him too much to be upset .

Instead she just sighed and pursed her lips "maybe." Was all she muttered before kylian finally came back into view.

This Time he had a large flexible ice pack in his hand as well as a bandage . Jumping over his seat till he reached Cherrie side, the scowl never leaving his face as he sat down beside her.

"Stupid idiot." He snapped at her again as he grabbed her leg and swung her foot up into his lap without any warning making her Yelp.

She slapped at his shoulder with a glare "don't manhandle me like that kylian!" She threw at him angrily . Yet she didn't move her leg and instead settled back into a more comfortable position , still pouting like a child.

Kylian just huffed moodily as he placed the ice pack around her swollen ankle and started to wrap the bandage around it to keep it in place .

"It's going to hurt even worse tomorrow Cherrie! It's what you get for being such a stubborn lunatic! Do you ever think right?!" He shot back at her .

Not noticing the way Lionel was watching him fret over her ankle and insult her at the same time.

Watching as kylian started gently massaging her legs on his lap, even the uninjured one. Still glaring at her furiously.

That was some serious multitasking. Lionel was almost impressed by his stubbornness to keep up his 'I hate you' act like this. When it was so clear to him that it was the exact opposite .

Cherrie just groaned and threw her head back against the seat, closing her eyes as though if she couldn't see him then she couldn't hear him either.

Seeing what she was doing, kylian pinched her thigh making her gasp and glare at him again.

"How are you going to get up the stairs at home? I told you it was a bad idea to get a place with so many fucking stairs!" He scolded her , looking over at her questionably .

She just rolled her eyes at him as though she was used to hearing him complain about her house.

Lionel was taken a back. Eyes widening a little as he tried to keep discreetly eavesdropping .

How did kylian know what the inside of her house looked like? As far as he and their friends knew, the two of them had never even locked eyes once the game was over.

Were they missing something? He felt like it was something pretty crucial as he watched Cherrie pull off kylian's hat and place it on top of her head, the player not even doing anything about it.

Instead kylian then took off his scarf and wrapped that around her too.

What the fuck? Lionel couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

"Like your apartment is any better?" She had shot back at him . "It's top floor!"

Kylian pulled a face "it has an elevator dumbo!"

"You know I'm scared of elevators kylian! They're death traps!" She exclaimed .

Kylian was the one to groan this time as he gently pushed her legs off of him and got to his feet just as the whistle was blew for the end of the game.

Not taking his eyes from her as he carefully pulled Cherrie to her feet as well.

"You're going to have to get over it because I'm not dragging you up two flights of stairs till you recover . We'll be using my elevator because that's the smart thing to do..." he then wrapped her arm around his shoulder and swung his other arm around her waist as he began to lead her towards the exit.

"Don't even try to argue with me cherrie! You have no say in this! This is your punishment for being a stupid idiot!" Lionel heard kylian snap at her as they passed him.

Neither noticing the gobsmacked look on his face as he watched how easily Cherrie leaned into his side despite the stubborn scowl on her face .

"You can't tell me what to do! I'm going home!"

"Yeah , with me! Now shut up because your annoying ass voice is giving me a headache ..." kylian insulted her as they turned the corner to exit the tunnel.

There was silence for a moment before Lionel heard kylian mutter a  "you want pasta tonight? I bought the labyrinth for us to watch as well. Thought I might as well watch it seeing as you won't fucking shut your big mouth up about how good it is-"

He didn't catch the rest as they disappeared together through the exit door.

And it was that night that he realised that kylian and Cherrie weren't enemies at all.

Because what kind of enemies slept over at each other's place and had movie nights together?

And as they all stood watching them still bickering at each other , four months since Lionel had realised something was going on. They still just couldn't get it at all.

"Are you sure you didn't hallucinate the whole thing Lionel? Cause they don't look close like that at all!" Ramos frowned over at him judgementally .

Not believing him at all.

Lionel just scoffed at him, rolling his eyes, hard.

"I'm going to just ignore the fact that you're hinting at me going crazy Ramos." He said to him , deciding to be the bigger man.

Ironically.

"I'm telling you. He's in love with her , I don't know if Cherrie loves him too because she's a little harder to read-" he grimaced a little as they watched Cherrie slap the back of kylian's head with her hand when he asked her if she had suddenly forgotten how to tell the time .

"I slept in! And the roads are more confusing from Sarah's house! I got a little lost!" She tried to defend herself as she grabbed a ball and started to warm up .

Kylian quickly following her as they started passing the ball between them casually.

He bounced it on his knee a couple of times "I can see how you could get lost.." he nodded mockingly before kicking the ball at her , aiming for her head.

"If you closed your eyes! It's a straight fucking road here from your best friends house Cherrie!"

She dodged the ball and instead started dribbling it around the cones that were set out. Kylian jogging beside her as they took turns passing it around the obstacles .

Rolling her eyes at him with a pissy huff , clearly still hungover over from having girls night with her friend.

They had went from laughing over wine to taking vodka shots and crying over the latest romcom.

Then she had woken up in a bathtub hugging a pillow with Taylor swift’s face on it.

Which unfortunately wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Though it never made it any easier to handle in the morning when her head felt like a drum that was being slammed on.

"It's not that straight of a road If you go in the wrong direction dickhead!" She shot back at him. Annoyed that he was constantly taking shots at her terrible driving.

So she had gotten lost a few times while driving? It happened to everyone at least once.

It just happened to happen more frequently to her. That was all.

Kylian snorted , smirking as he shook his head .

"You look like you've been dug up from your own grave Cher. Hope you have some heavy makeup to cover up the hangover." He snickered as he flicked her forehead .

Before quickly Ducking to avoid the ball to his face .

"I'm still hot even if my brain is trying to fall out from my ears. You're just jealous that I look like this even on my bad days!" She arrogantly smirked as they came to a stop just as their coach told them to take a break.

"What? Ugly?" He grinned. Laughing as she kicked him. Shoving at his side as he tried to pull her into a side hug. "I'm kidding! You don't need that shit."

He pulled her over to the bench where his bag was, pulling out a bottle of water and handing it to her with a stern expression on his face.

"Drink that you alcoholic . You need to look like you haven't been inhaling booze all night. Was it wine?" He guessed as he held the water bottle up to her mouth, not pulling his hand away till she had started drinking it .

Neither of them noticing their friends gaping at their interaction from the middle of the pitch.

"Are you seeing this? Is kylian actually laughing and smiling at her?" Ramos couldn't believe it.

Neymar was blinking at them in disbelief "but he's calling her stupid all of the time!"

Lionel had a knowing smile on his lips as he looked smugly at them. Knowing that he had been right all along.

"Some people show love by bullying each other. Has kylian ever let anybody else other than him say a bad word about her?" He rose a brow slyly.

They all shook their head.

Ramos even grimaced.

"I made a joke once that she could make a nun swear with how annoying she is.." he inhaled deeply preparing himself to recall that awful day.

"-and kylian had me benched for three games. Coach told me that he 'recommended it' it to him an hour after I said that joke to her." He muttered. Still a little pissy about it.

There were some laughs between the players .

Neymar then piped up with his own memory.

“I tried to ask her on a date a couple of times but every time I tried to ask her , he would trip me up. Literally come out of nowhere and kick my leg out from underneath me!" He exclaimed as he realised that perhaps kylian wasn't just joking around with him.

That he had actually been jealous and made sure that he had absolutely no chance with her.

Lionel grinned "see? Only he can insult her. And only Cherrie can do the same to him. What did she do when neymar told kylian that he was a shit player with his left foot?" He pressed knowingly .

Neymar's  frown deepened as the rest snickered at the reminder of that day. 

“She then shoved me and told me to keep my feet planted on the floor unless I wanted to lose my pretty face." He grumbled .

Lionel then looked a Ramos who was already scowling , knowing what he was about to say next.

"And what about you huh? What did she do when you called kylian an asshole?"

Ramos sighed in defeat "she stole all my clothes while I was in the shower so I had to leave the stadium in a tiny towel.."

Then all their eyes averted back to the two young players that they had been convinced hated each other all this time.

Kylian was pulling at her hair as she slapped at his hands to get him to stop.

He only let go when she threatened to call his mother.

"I'm gonna go blonde again." He told her seriously as he then passed her a protein bar once she was done with the water.

It was a chocolate and raspberry one, her favourite. She refused to eat them unless they were covered in chocolate . So he had bought the whole box of them and always had one in his bag for her during training, knowing how she always forgot to bring one.

Cherries face lit up, gasping a little as she slapped his excitedly.

"Can I do it? I've still got some bleach left at home!" She pleaded to him. Having fancied herself a hairdresser to all of her friends .

Kylian pulled a face as he jokingly eyed her messy hair that was placed in a sloppy ponytail ontop of her head. He could still see the odd pink streak from where she had dyed it last time.

He had suggested she colour it blue .

So she did what was expected and went pink instead .

"The last time I watched you dye your hair you looked like someone has threw up a fucked up rainbow on you! It was a mess for weeks Cherrie! You were crying!" He recalled with a amused tone of voice .

Cherrie scowled "that was a ... slight mistake yes. But I fixed it and I looked great!" She defended her skills quickly .

Kylian looked at her with wide eyes "you had to cut off half off it! You complained the whole time!" He knew she did because he was the one who had to cut it for her .

"Whatever . You'll look stupid anyways.." she lied as she turned away from him grumpily . Not happy that she wasn't getting her own way.

Kylian smirked to himself , chuckling as he grabbed onto her elbow and spun her around to face him again.

Leaning his face down closer to hers , he gently nudged her nose with his.

“So stupid that you wouldn't let me leave your bed for the whole weekend the last time I dyed it?" He reminded her smugly .

Pinching her bottom between his fingers quickly , making her hiss between her teeth at him , startled.

Rolling her eyes at his cocky face , she huffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're loca." She denied him as she tried to pull away.

Kylian just laughed and bent his head down , kissing her square on the mouth in front of everyone without a care in the world .

Too lost in each other to notice the gaping mouths of their teammates as the pitch filled with shocked gasps at the sight of the two players who were always fighting , now kissing each other.

Only Lionel was grinning triumphantly , looking between his friends smugly . Unsurprised.

"Told you they're in love. They just love to hate each other. It's just another game they're playing." He chuckled as he watched kylian try to pull her back in for another kiss again, only for Cherrie knock out his knee from below him so he went tumbling down to the ground instead.

Cackling to herself as she gently kicked him in the butt before blowing him a kiss and jogging away.

Leaving kylian to lay on his back and let out a long and hard sigh.

Turning his head and finally noticing his teammates's shocked expressions , he simply grinned like a lovesick idiot.

"That's my future wife! She's fucking crazy!" He laughed to himself as he pushed himself back up to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth so his voice would echo.

"je t'aime vous femme folle! N'oubliez pas de porter la robe rouge ce soir!" He shouted over to her.

(I love you you crazy woman! Don't forget to wear the red dress tonight!)

Cherrie just stuck up her middle finger over her shoulder and yelled back "va te faire foutre je porte la robe noire maintenant!" While grinning cheekily.

(Fuck you! I’m wearing the black dress now!)

Kylian shook his head at her , placing his hands on his hips with a frown.

"dites-le maintenant!"

(Say it back now!)

Cherrie giggled as she shook her head no "je ne mentirai pas!" I won't lie she joked .

Before taking one look at kylian's face and hauling her ass across the pitch with a loud laugh as he started sprinting after her.

"dis moi que tu m'aimes! sinon pas de film ce soir !" He threatened her as he tackled her down to the floor , wrapping his arms around her chest and locking his legs around her hips as he pulled her back against his chest tightly .

(Say you love me otherwise no movie tonight!)

Using his free handle to tickle her , laughing as she started shrieking and trying to wiggle away.

Paying no mind to their gobsmacked friends who looked like they were watching pigs fly in front of them.

Instead his eyes never left cherrie's, beaming down at her when she finally huffed and threw her head back against his shoulder so she could meet his eyes .

Gently kissing his jaw with a soft smile , she then jokingly bit at his chin to make him laugh again.

"je t'aime connard ! pouvons-nous regarder le match de la ville à la place ? mon joueur préféré est debout ce soir..." she bit down on her bottom lip mischievously as she watched his face fall flat .

Pursing his lips with a huff through his nose before he threw her off his lap , slapping her butt hard as she cackled like a mad woman on the pitch Next to him.

(I love you asshole! But can we watch the city match instead? My favourite player is up tonight..."

"I change my mind! I don't love you anymore!" He declared . Getting to his feet and kicking her ass with his foot one more time before stomping off.

Leaving Cherrie to giggle to herself as she quickly ran after him and threw herself onto his back. Wrapping her arms around his neck as he automatically grabbed the back of her thighs so she wouldn't fall off.

Pressing her cheek against his own as he side eyed her with a raise of his brow . His smile threatening to break through the longer she grinned at him cheekily.

"Only kidding . I'm my favourite player Ky. How does teenager ninja turtles sound?" She said instead.

Kylian rolled his eyes , laughing despite himself as he started heading  over to their friends.

"Fuck you. It's a good job you're pretty because you need to work on your personality some more!"

Cherrie slapped his head making him laugh "ass!"

Then she smiled at their friends when they stopped in front of them. Looking at their wide eyes and gaping mouths , she tilted her head at them curiously.

"Hey guys! What's got you guys looking like you just saw god?" She inquired not bothering to get down from his back. Far too lazy to stand and kylian was more than content in holding her.

Ramos looked between them blankly .

“You're kidding right?" He said.

Kylian frowned "what do you mean? What's wrong?" He played innocent . Chuckling at the looks that they were giving them.

Neymar gasped "what's wrong?! What's wrong is that we thought you guys hated each other!" He exclaimed as he wondered how they had missed the signs .

But to be fair to them they did act like they were going to kill each other half the time!

Lionel cleared his throat and sent them all a pointed look. "I am not included in that 'we' . I told you all ages ago but you didn't believe me!" He shot at them smugly .

He was always right .

The pair of them just casually shrugged as though they had no clue what they were on about .

Kylian smiled in amusement as he kissed her arm that was wrapped around his neck. Seeing the thin gold bracelet with his initials on around her wrist.

He kissed that too.

"I don't hate her she just annoys the life out of me sometimes. Plus we made up months ago and started over.." he informed them casually .

Cherrie pinched his cheek with a yawn. "Feels mutual asshole." She then looked over at the group with a frown. "I thought you guys knew?"

Ramos couldn't have scoffed any louder if he tried .

Blinking at her like she has grown a third head. "Obviously not! You two are permanently insulting each other ! That doesn't scream 'we're in love!' Oh my god!" He shook his head rapidly once he saw the matching smirks on their faces .

"You know what? You two weird fuckers deserve each other because you're both insane . That's the only explanation!" He exclaimed absolutely done with their shit.

"Most people who are in love hold each others hands or hug or .. smile at each other! They're at least nice to each other!" Neymar gaped at them.

Cherrie grinned "I am nice to him .. when we get home! What do you want me to do? Fuck him on the pitch?" She joked as she leant forward And kissed kylian's cheek happily.

Kylian laughed as he wiggled his brows at her cheekily.

Ramos looked at them like they were insane. "You could at least be nice to each other when you're not at home as well!" He said , baffled by how their relationship worked.

Both of them pulled a face like he was the one who had suggested something stupid.

"Why would we do that?" Kylian sounded genuinely confused at the thought .

“It's much funnier to piss each other off. We're just joking about. We know that. It's just our thing." He said like it was totally normal to have insult competitions with the one you love.

Cherrie hummed in agreement , smiling genuinely.

“Yeah. Kylian knows that I don't think he's a stupid , air headed . Arrogant asshole with two left feet and no brain." She laughed "don't you babe?"

Kylian nodded with a giggle "exactly . That's her way of saying that I'm an idiot but she loves me anyway. Just like me calling her a stupid , careless , brainless woman means that i think shes doing something stupid but I love her anyways." He explained to them as though it was simple .

Even Lionel looked at them a little weirdly . Awkwardly clearing his throat when a minute passed by with their teammates just gaping at them.

"Well... I can't say i get it because I don't but if you two are happy..." he looked between them warily.

They both beamed. Holding eachother close.

"We are." Kylian nodded his head as Cherrie finally slid off his back. Pinching his butt on her way down. He kicked hers in response .

Cherrie grinned as well "very happy."

Lionel just sighed and smiled at them. Patting both of them on their backs .

"Then I'm happy for you guys. Just maybe try not to fight each other on the pitch again?" He suggested lightly to them .

Kylian just smirked "you're right. I'll just wrestle her in bed instead!" He then burst into laughter as Cherrie shoved at his shoulder in scolding .

Leaving their friends to sigh as they watched the couple start to shove at each other and bicker about who was the fastest out of the two of them before beggining to race each other down the pitch.

Kylian tripping her up halfway .

Cherrie then grabbing at his ankle and pulling him down with her like a pair of  bad behaved children .

"It's never going to stop is it?" Ramos sighed.

Both neymar and Lionel shook their head .

"They'll have eachother in a headlock at the alter." Lionel muttered with a amused snort as they all watched Cherrie pants him.

Kylian gasping loudly and quickly pulling up his shorts again before running after her. Threatening to rip her thong off and make it into a armband.

Neymar chuckled "wedlock... headlock.."

They both looked at him with deadpan expressions making him raise his brows with a slight pout.

"Okay. Okay geez!"

Silence .

Then "do you think they'll last?" Ramos asked.

As Lionel looked at the way they were having the time of their lives with each other , acting like their true selves without any worry of the other one getting upset or judging them.

He nodded his head.

"They say that you're truly in love when you can act like a kid around someone without them judging you. And look at them.." he motioned towards the couple that were wrestling on the floor again with a sigh.

"They act like two naughty little kids when they're together . They're happy." He simply observed .

"And they're both very weird and might need to see a therapist but.." he then shrugged "they obviously love each other and just because we don't understand it doesn't mean that they don't."

His friends nodded in agreement .

Silence.

Then "I think Cherrie will wear the suit at the wedding." Neymar said.

Ramos laughed "obviously . It isn't kylian that's wearing those pants..!" He grinned as they watched Cherrie pat down kylian's clothes that were now covered in mud and scold him for shoving them both into the puddle.

Kylian just let her smack the back of his head with a grin on his face, his eyes never leaving her as he reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers together . Promising her that he would hand clean them himself .

And they might not have understood the way they loved but it wasn't their relationship to understand.

They clearly loved each other. That was all that mattered .

No matter how strange their love was.

---

😂😂

Find your name with the gif button and add the one that is the most relatable

Find your name with the gif button and add the one that is the most relatable

Hun i fk love this❤️

No Changing

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Doxing, Information leak, Unwanted Face-reveal, Invasion of privacy, Mild Mention of Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Comfort Fluff, Mild Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the unfortunate even of getting doxed, Y/N takes it upon themself to explain everything after taking some time off the internet. However, in that time off, they’ve received a ton of comfort and words of encouragement, enough to get them to come back and rise from the ‘ruins’ the hackers they’d put them in.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your request I loved writing it! So sorry for the long time you’ve been waiting for your request to be turned into a fic but here it is now and I hope you come across it and read it. If so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Life is a rollercoaster of surprises as many would say. Everyone experiences it differently. One day you might think you’ll marry the person you’re dating and the very next you might be despising that same person with every fiber of your being. You might be swimming in a pool of money in one moment and lose it all in a matter of minutes just like it was never yours.

In Y/N’s case, however, it’s got nothing to do with their love life or budget. For them it’s a violation of a right they were born with, it’s about the world getting a glimpse at a part of their life they didn’t want exposed. Their privacy has always been an important factor to be able to deal with fame. But now, it’s been stripped away from them. One moment they were happy and content, having just finished a Roblox stream with some friends before going to bed and woke up the next morning to find themself all over the trending page on Twitter, the biggest news everyone’s talking about on Instagram, people making videos about them on YouTube etc. Interestingly enough, in that moment, they felt nothing. The two possible reactions their mind could come up with clashed, leaving them speechless and numb at the sight of the number of notifications on their phone increasing.

On one hand, they always felt a hack or dox was inevitable for them and the rest of the faceless YouTubers and streamers alike. On the other, though, they felt so violated, as if involuntarily standing naked on a stage in front of thousands of people, telling their life story. Not a pretty image or a good situation to imagine being in, is it? Well then you can only take a wild guess about how they felt once the numbness faded away.

What would be your first instinct if you were given the freedom to escape the aforementioned scenario? Right, you’d run off the stage and put some clothes on. That, metaphorically, is exactly what Y/N did for the previous two and a half months. They cleaned their slate and went to a different state, leaving their life as an internet personality temporarily. They knew they couldn’t leave it forever. It was a vessel for them to express who they are, something they’ve never had before which is exactly why it means so much to them. That being said, let me put that into perspective for you as well. Imagine the one place you feel safe in, the only thing or person that gives you comfort and allows you to be you turning on you. The place turning in to hell, the person into Satan himself. Imagine it turning the tables on you and making you life through a nightmare all of a sudden.

Lees verder

FBI

Characters: Kelly Severide x Reader, half of firehouse 51

Warnings: Brief mentions of a crime idk.

Summary: This wasn't exactly what they were thinking when an fbi agent strolled into their firehouse.

A/N: I had such a nice plan for this little beauty but then I messed up and then I remembered I had homework due tomorrow that I haven't done so please enjoy this ugly piece of writing. Kinda don't want to publish this but I need to feed you lot before I get swamped in holiday homework.

"Hey, I'm looking for a Kelly Severide."

You said, asking the first person you found. It was your first time in the firehouse and this definitely wasn't how you planned it to be but you could make this work.

"Lieutenant Kelly Severide?" The woman rose her brow, her voice coming across as soft as she looked. You couldn't deny she was pretty and taking into account her blonde hair and the word paramedic on her uniform caused your brows to rise ever so slightly.

"Oh! You must be Sylvie Brett." You smiled, holding out your hand for the paramedic to shake which she did with much confusion and slight fear. "Agent Y/N Y/L/N."

"You work for the fbi." She stated, fidgeting with her fingers once your hands were released. It was clear she was shocked and you could understand why; your gun in its holster, your shiny golden badge and the bold yellow letters printed on the back of your government issued jacket.

"Yes I do." You replied with a tight lipped smile, annoyed that your job was the first impression everyone at the firehouse would be getting from you; these men and women were family to Kelly and greeting them for the first time ever in your uniform wasn't what you wanted.

Before Sylvie could fully shake off her shock, someone butted into the conversation, having spotted and recognising you.

"Y/N, you're back." Matt smiled, his arms wide inviting your for a hug which you immediately accepted. The captain was the one person in Kelly's life that knew of your existence since there was no hiding you from his roomate, especially since your stay became more permanent.

The hug was what caught everyone's attention. Sylvie talking to someone was normal but Matt hugging a stranger wasn't, hence all the heads turning and when all their eyes widened, you weren't surprised.

"Feds." Two men whispered in sync upon laying eyes on you, the others stood out of their seats and came around to you in the middle of the common room.

"What do the feds want with us now?" One man asked, crossing his arms with an attitude that you could smell from a mile away. Maybe it was his accent or it could've been his snarky tone which got him a quick reprimand from the captain but you knew his name.

"Christopher Herrmann, right?" You pointed at him, your smile brightening when he did a double take at the name you guessed correct.

"It's probably creepy that I know all your names and I really wished that we could've met under better circumstances but I will explain everything." You said, sheepishly smiling at the very confused group of firefighters.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?" Kelly noticed you from afar, it was hard not to recognise the three yellow letter the second he turned the corner.

Within seconds, Kelly enveloped you into his arms and despite the reputation that you wanted to maintain, you folded and accepted the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist, contently inhaling the comforting scent that always followed your boyfriend.

"Okay I'm sorry but who are you?"

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You replied automatically, not even thinking about leaving out the agent. Biting the inside of your lip, you internally cursed at yourself.

"She's my girlfriend." Kelly smirked, his arm happily resting across your shoulders where he could keep you close to him. "Whose actually supposed to be in Texas right about now, what happened?"

"Everything's fine. We apprehended our guy earlier than expected and there might've been a gunfight and there's a small possibility I was in the middle but a graze is nothing." You said with ease since it was your job and you loved everything it entailed but to your crowd, you seemed like a lunatic and a hero combined in one.

"You're kidding." Kelly looked down at you in concern, his heart rate picking up at the mere thought of you getting hurt, even if you brushed it off as a papercut.

Before you could explain further that a graze inflicted zero pain, a man you could name purely based off the aura that surrounded him entered the common room.

"Agent, what can we do for you?" The tallest man came forward and asked, his hands shaking yours before they were on his hips. From his stance and the way his voice was so gentle but commandeering made it easy for you to deduce his position in the firehouse; it also helped that Kelly continuously boasted about the men and women of 51.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your day chief." You firstly apologised, sheepishly smiling at the firefighters who were shocked at Kelly's arm still wrapped around your waist. "I need nothing but a few minutes with lieutenant Severide and I'll be out your hair."

"Don't be silly." Kelly shook his head, looking down at you with a slight frown. "Why don't you stay for lunch, you can't just appear out of nowhere and not eat with us."

"I have so much paperwork I left behind. My boss will have my throat if they're not done." You tried fighting Kelly but he looked at you with such big eyes that you wanted to drown yourself in and a slight pout was making itself known and before you knew it, you were caving in.

"Alright, just a few bites and then I have to go."

It was safe to say, some feds were okay.

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 

“What the shit–“ 

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 

Had he been listening that whole time? 

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 

Though, it is short lived. 

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 

Okay, you think privately, so what? 

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard. 

Bucky… is a virgin? 

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind. 

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 

You can’t have that, though. 

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him. 

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries. 

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 

That meant only one person was responsible. 

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 

Love ya squirt, 

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 

TAME THE WOLFF| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Angry!Toto Wolff x Calm!Wife!reader

Summary; A few scenarios in which Toto is angry and frustrated and you’re there to calm him down and save his poor team from his wrath

Warnings; angry Toto.

F1 Master List

It was no secret that during a race weekend Toto could get a little….frustrated.

Okay, frustrated was putting it way too lightly, the man got way too passionate about his work and when things didn’t go the way they’re supposed to it was like a volcano was erupting in his mind and he just loses all sense of control leading him to his famous actions of smashing headphones.

The Austrian was already intimidating enough with his tall stature and the confidence he eluded but when he was angry he wasn’t just intimidating, he was scary.

The way his dark eyes seemed to turn almost entirely black and how the veins in his forehead throbbed were signs that had the Mercedes team shifting in their seats and the moment he started running his hands down his face was the moment the higher people in the team would get their phones out and call for help.

That help being you.

It had taken a long time for the team to acknowledge the effect you had on their team principle because he never got angry when you attended races but it was when you arrived to races later in the day that they started to see how things changed.

It was one particular day when Toto had arrived to the track already a bit frustrated, whether that was because of your absence or not they didn’t know but the pile up of disastrous events had lead to the team principle throwing things and shouting at the top of his lungs.

Then you arrived.

You certainly hadn’t expected to walk into the garage and be greeted by your husband in a fit of rage and the entire team stood frozen like petrified animals but the sight of fear on their faces had upset you greatly, especially knowing that it was because of Toto’s, quite frankly unnecessary, tantrum.

You walked over to your husband, who hadn’t even noticed you amidst his anger, and gently placed your hand on his arm.

Any member of the team would’ve called you crazy in that moment, walking over to the beast of a man with no fear on your face when he could have easily turned around and launched you across the room without even thinking.

He had been ready to throw a fist at the person who had the gall to touch him before he saw that it was you, his beloved wife looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes even as he was acting like a brute.

The team had never seen him change personalities so quickly in that moment.

You didn’t say anything to him, instead you placed your other hand on his back and guided him away from everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to move him by yourself but he allowed you to guide him away with absolutely no argument.

You opened the door of his makeshift office, saying nothing as he strode straight past you without a glance, steam practically spilling from his ears, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

Apart from his unsettled shuffling the room was filled with an intense silence as you shut the door, simply watching as his chest rose and fell harshly, you could see that he was trying to calm himself down now that he was in your presence but he was struggling to do so and that was only frustrating him further.

"Sit down," you gently instructed him, nodding towards the small sofa pushed up against the wall of the small room.

He wanted to argue but he stopped himself and did as he was told, sitting down on the sofa he buried his face into his hands.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around the back of his head, allowing him to lean into your stomach, you ran your hands through his hair.

"I understand you’re stressed and that things aren’t going the way you want them too but the way you’re shouting is unfair to the team, they are not your verbal punching bag but you’re treating them as they are."

Toto closed his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closer.

He knew you were right, you always were and that’s what he loved about you, how you were always there to talk some sense into him.

He didn’t say anything though, he just held you firmly but gently and used your presence to calm him down.

There were many things he needed to be doing right now but he couldn’t find himself to care, right now the most important thing was calming down and spending time with you, no matter how long that took.

When the Mercedes team heard the door to their boss’ office unlock and saw the man himself walk out completely calm with you following shortly after, they were beyond amazed.

It was that day that the members of the team who had your number put you on speed dial in preparation for when an incident like this happened again, which it no doubt would.

"It seems that Toto Wolff is beginning to get a little bit frustrated down in the Mercedes garage."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary commentary that wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Your husband was getting agitated and the nearby team members were nervously glancing in his direction as though they were mentally preparing themselves for him to blow his top.

Instead of waiting for Toto to lose it, you stood behind him and loosely wrapped your arms around him, thumbing at the collar of his shirt.

Everyone around could see the tension immediately release from his body just from your comforting touch.

Toto grabbed one of your hands with his own, stroking his thumb back and forth across your skin, using the motion as a way to ground himself.

The whole garage went silent at the sight of both of their cars spinning off the track in turn 1. What once was going to be a promising race from starting second and third has turned into a disaster in such a short amount of time.

Everyone was utterly speechless as the entire team just sat there staring at their monitors in shock.

But then they actually acknowledged that it was silent and all simultaneously turned towards their boss with confused stares only to see you blocking him from the cameras that were pointing into the garage, leaning down and whispering, what they could only guess were calming, words to him.

Whilst the cameras couldn’t see his face, the team could and they could tell he was, rightfully so, furious as the situation, he wasn’t shouting or throwing things.

He definitely wanted to but he wasn’t.

You weren’t really in the mood to be in the garage today surrounded by so much noise to the point you could barely hear yourself think and the smell of fuel so strong it made you nauseous but you still wanted to support your husband as you weren’t able to accompany him everywhere he went so you settled in his makeshift office on what was possibly the worlds smallest sofa with your laptop sitting in your lap and your headphones placed over your ears to block out the noise from the team outside and the cars on the track.

It had been hours and you were content in the alone time you were getting, it was just you and your music playing in your ears that you didn’t notice the multiple calls you were receiving.

Unbeknownst to you, outside of his office, your husband was kicking off and nothing anyone did or said could calm him down.

The team had never witnessed Toto as angry as he was right now, the veins in his forehead more prominent than ever and whilst most didn’t understand the German words coming out of his mouth, they knew he couldn’t be saying anything nice.

Bono was trying to get a hold of you for possibly the twentieth time and he was still having no luck, he felt the pressure of the teams eyes on him, begging for the news that you’d be coming knowing that he was only one of a few that had your number and the means to find you right now but he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Poor Lewis and George were getting the brunt of the Austrian’s anger and even though they hadn’t a clue of what he was saying, they were starting to question the security of their jobs.

Luckily, a mechanic who had just entered the garage and was completely taken aback by the scene in front of him, awkwardly side shuffled to Bono and questioned what was going on. "He’s acting crazy! I can’t get a hold of Y/N."

"Didn’t she go straight into his office when they arrived earlier?" The mechanic asked.

Bono looked at him in shock and relief before jumping to his feet and wasting no time as he jogged in the direction of Toto’s office.

It was rude but he didn’t bother knocking, he almost cried when he saw you sitting there.

You got the fright of your life as the door burst open but the sight of a frantic Bono caused you to remove your headphones and look at him in confusion.

"Oh thank god you’re here! Toto’s gone mental!"

You released a sigh at his words and pushed your laptop to the side and got up from the sofa. "What for now?"

"I honestly have no idea but if he doesn’t calm down soon then Lewis and George might just start crying and Toto looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel."

The moment you stepped out into the short, narrow corridor you heard your husbands angry German shouting. "Mein Gott," you muttered to yourself.

Entering the main part of the garage you weren’t greeted by a pretty sight at all, Bono wasn’t overreacting in the way he described Toto, Lewis and George and let’s not forget about the rest of the team.

You headed straight for your husband, not acknowledging the looks of relief you saw build on everyone’s faces, especially the two drivers’.

You didn’t even need to say anything to Toto, you just stood in front of him and looked up at him with a stern gaze that soon got him to shut up but his eyes were still blazing with fury as he looked down at you, you knew his anger wasn’t aimed at you, he was just still pent up with emotions.

You nodded in the direction of his office and simply walked away, expecting him to follow after you if he knew what was good for him.

He followed you.

The moment you heard him close the door you turned to him. "This needs to stop."

He looked at you furiously, "how am I supposed to stop when I have two drivers that can’t even get through a lap without crashing into each other!"

"Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Torger!" Your voice cut through the air as you glared at him which soon caused his face to shift from angry to wounded as you scolded him.

"How hard is it for you to simply sit them down and give them a stern talking to, there’s no need for the way you completely blow your top, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum."

He was still beyond angry, you could see it in his eyes and the way he shifted on his feet and he was about to retort but you cut him off. "I don’t want to hear you right now, I want you to sit down in silence and calm down before a single word comes out of your mouth."

He pursed his lips, not at all happy but he did as he was told and sat down in the chair behind the small desk, you didn’t spare him a glance as you sat yourself back where you were before Bono came searching for you, pulling your laptop back onto your lap to finish what you had been doing.

It was a good 15/20 minutes later when you heard him get up from his seat and make his way over to you. He sat beside you and rested his head on your shoulder causing you to roll your eyes but a smile grew on your face at his actions, you were glad he couldn’t see it though.

You continued to carry on with what you were doing, letting him decide how he wanted your conversation to go and so it remained silent for a few more minutes with you and Toto simply sat there, him resting against you simply soaking up the comfort of your presence.

He shifted and pressed a kiss to your temple before returning back to his position. "Are you mad at me?" He asked when you remained silent.

You closed your laptop and put it away before shifting the both of you so you were up straight and looking at each other. "No," you told him honestly, "I just wish you wouldn’t let your frustrations get the best of you all the time."

He looked down at your words before looking back into your eyes with a sincere look, "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay," you smiled at him, reaching out a hand to brush his hair back. "We just need to find a way for you to keep yourself together."

"You’re the way," he replied immediately which stunned you and he was okay with that. He pulled you into his arms and you both just sat there.

You could be quite the opposite at times but you were content with that because you would always be there to ground him whenever his emotions got out of control.

I'M SORRY BUT THIS IS SO FUNNY