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rookthorne · 3 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲

The first day of any new job was always the hardest — all the rules and roles to navigate while establishing yourself as someone reliable, trustworthy, and far too interested in your employer.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ 8.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ୨୧ Swearing, pet names, fluff, slight angst/insecurity, pining, unspecified age gap, Bucky is a shameless flirt and he knows it, extreme sexual tension/implied smut, heated kissing, there is a kid in this fic

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ୨୧ Happy belated birthday, @duckybarnes1917 — I hope you enjoy the torturous collection I came up with just for you, love you long time. 😘 ୨୧ This AU and fic itself have skyrocketed into my personal top 5. I threw my all into this and I am fucking proud of it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ୨୧ greedy by Tate McRae ୨୧ Like U by Rosenfeld

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ୨୧ @smutconnoisseur — thank you for dealing with my flying by the seat of my pants attitude because oh my god—

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Babysitting (December), Teasing (January), Single Parent (February) — Masterlist ჻჻჻ Aggressive Flirting (February) — Masterlist ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟯 — DILF AU — Masterlist ୨୧ @mcukinkbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Mistaken for a couple — Masterlist ୨୧ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗚𝟮 — First Kiss — Masterlist ୨୧ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine — Masterlist

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The advertisement was like any other — a father looking for a babysitter to watch over his little girl while he worked, and from what you could gather, the father worked a prestigious job that took up a substantial amount of time when he had to visit the office.

A sweet little girl that adored princesses and coloured her days away, if her description was anything to be believed, and you applied for the position straight away, not wasting a moment before you sent all of your credentials through. It seemed a perfect fit.

To your shock (and relief), you heard back from your new employer within the hour.

James Barnes, a leading engineer in his field of cutting-edge prosthetics, called you in the next half hour, voice deep and honeyed with a hidden sense of cunning curiosity. The conversation was brief before he invited you over for a drink — of your choice, “You can have whatever you want, doll, I don’t mind,” he purred after you stuttered a shocked, nonsensical reply.

It was intoxicating, the sound of his voice lulling into fantasies that your majorly unhelpful mind conjured after that encounter. The memory was barely definable through your lust fuelled recollections of your shared drinks.

Over time, after spending time with the both of them, it took all of your willpower to not be lulled towards the forbidden curiosities you held for your new employer. He was enigmatic, playful, curious, and lethally charming with a smile to match — one that danced in your daydreams and slumber with far too sinful results.

The rapport with your new charge came over easy, a blessed relief that instilled a confidence in you; a job that would both be a smooth and interesting challenge, sans complications of a tantruming child.

James, however, quickly made it his mission to fluster you at every turn: asking you about your day and praising you for the smallest, littlest things, to bringing you home flowers and treats when he walked in the door to greet you.

It never failed to make heat creep up your neck, and never failed to land elsewhere.

You were no stranger to attraction, but James was something else — a broad, older man, single father to a little girl, incredibly handsome and intelligent, and far too suave for his own good. Just the thought of his attention made you feel giddy with the rush of endorphins.

One particular video call stuck in your mind to this day, a loop of his voice and soft, enamoured expression on repeat. Both of you were discussing the particular habits of his little girl: how she loved certain movies and detested others, where she loved to have her meals and with what plush teddies and dolls had to sit with her, and so on, so forth.

It was heartwarming to bear witness how much he adored his daughter, a clear example of love and devotion you’d only seen in very few circumstances.

“She doesn’t mind having other movies,” James said, and the camera panned to the little girl happily playing with her dolls. “It’s just– She will pout and whine if she doesn’t get, y’know, that movie.”

You chuckled and noted it down on a piece of paper. “And we’re not saying the name of that movie because–?”

The phone’s camera flipped back to show James’ fearful expression, wide, bright eyes staring directly into the screen and through to your soul. “It’s because I don’t want a riot in my living room,” he said carefully, around your laughter — you couldn’t help it, he was too dramatic. “Besides, I would rather spend my time talking to my pretty Fawn.”

The use of the pet name he reserved for only you made you splutter and hide — tilting the camera to the ceiling as you bit your lip hard enough for it to almost bleed. “Aw, come back,” James teased, “I was enjoying seeing your face—not the damned ceiling.”

You were sure it was some kind of sin for how often that comment played in your mind during the late hours of the night, but you couldn’t help it.

In such a short span of time, you fell hard for your boss, the father of your charge, and it was a hell of a forbidden rush to think of him in such a way — above you, pinning you to the surface while he fucked you deep, hard, and fast. The deep, animalistic grunts that would fall from his lips, or the praises he’d sing of how tight you were for him.

Not to mention, the way his deep, chocolate brown hair would fall from his shoulders to hang between your bodies, the ends of it tickling your skin when he would pull out; only to thrust hard back into your cunt with a wrecked, gravelly moan.

The clatter of your fork on your plate made you jump a mile high, and you came back to reality with a crash to find the sun casting its bright rays over the breakfast nook in your apartment. “Fuck, fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head to clear the heated images while your thighs clenched traitorously at the visual and auditory vision. “Goddammit.”

What lay ahead, however, made the burning thoughts turn to butterflies in your stomach. Today was the day, your first real test: a full day packed to the brim with activities you planned that would suit the young, imaginative mind you no doubt believed the girl to have, given who her father was.

A loud chime sounded next to you, and you gasped in fright. “Shit!” you cursed, and you scrambled to grab your phone.

Speaking of the devil; James’ name flashed at the bottom of your screen, and you read the text with an unparalleled eagerness.

She just woke up and she’s already screaming about her new friend visiting today. We’re excited to see you, Fawn.

Attached to the text was a picture of the little girl you affectionately called Starlet. She was holding a drawing up to the camera that had no doubt been hastily created — it was you, James, and her holding hands. The movement she artistically captured led you to assume the three of you were dancing in front of the giant, scribbled rainbow in the background.

Tears welled in your eyes at the soft warmth that bloomed in your chest — only having had prominently video calls with her, she already considered you a friend.

Memories pulled at your mind again, and you thought back to the time you received a video call from Starlet one evening — it was just starting to grow dark when your phone chimed, and you answered it without a second thought after seeing your employer’s name on the screen. “Hello?”

A bright, smiling face stared at you through the screen.

“Oh, hello, honey!” you said happily. “What are you up to?” Then you remembered that she was a crafty, cunning little girl. With a sterner tone, you pressed on in the interrogation, “Where’s your dad—have you taken his phone again?”

“No, I’m here, Fawn,” James called distantly, and he laughed. “Starlet wanted to say hello—I’m just cooking dinner, you don’t mind, do you? Are we keeping you from something?”

“Nope.” The cushions against your back suddenly became very comfortable, now that you had company of your favourite two people. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart,” you asked of Starlet, and the little girl flew into an explanation that lasted one whole hour.

It was only when James took his phone back did you have a moment to catch your reeling mind, only for it to start spinning at the sight of his broad, handsome smile.

The phone in your hand buzzed once more, pulling you from the reverie. James sent another message asking if you would bring more of a specific set of gel pens — Starlet had taken to them and never quieted down about how sparkly they were.

A giggle escaped from your lips in the quiet of your home, and your thumbs flew over the keyboard to type back: Sure can. I can’t wait to see you guys, I’ll be there soon!

“Okay,” you said to yourself, picking up your plate of now stone-cold breakfast. “Let’s do this.”

You ignored the heavy weight of the secret bearing down on your mind as you padded down the hallway to your bedroom; how wrong it was to fall for your damned employer and harbour the lust over him, but you couldn’t help but revel in the thrill of it.

After dressing comfortably, you made sure to grab an extra set of gel pens for the princess that awaited you before you walked out the door, locking it behind you.

The journey to James’ home was thankfully uneventful, and you pulled up to where your directions led.

Your mouth fell slack with shock at what you found awaiting you.

The driveway to James’ home was sprawling in the length and design. Flowering hedges lined either side of the luxuriously paved road, and there was a water feature — a water feature, you thought incredulously, placed dead centre in front of a set of stairs that led to a massive, windowed, double set of doors.

“No wonder the pay was that high, he’s rich.” Your car travelled silently up the way while you took in the opulence of your new surroundings.

To the left of the stairway leading to the front door, was an empty space next to a fancy SUV. “I hope that’s for me,” you mumbled, and you parked your car while sure to leave space between the vehicles. The handbrake creaked and the engine shut off with a shudder, the sound of it made you grimace. “I have to get this checked; sooner rather than later.”

With no time to pause and consider your misfortune with vehicles, you slid out of the driver’s seat and popped the trunk to fetch the bag of delightful craft supplies you readied for Starlet. Through your raging nerves, you managed to hum a song quietly as you placed the strap over your shoulder.

The sole of your shoes padded over the pavement of the driveway, and the mansion that loomed ahead of you in its majesty — the architecture alone made it appear like something from the cover of a magazine.

“Whoa,” you breathed, spinning in place to take it all in. The beauty and aesthetic of the home was unmatched in the tidiness of the landscaping, and the facade of the home highlighted the contrasting use of colours in both the wood and steel that made up the accents. “Holy–”

A squeal of glee cut your admiration short, and one of the double doors of the home flew open to reveal a small girl dashing down the steps, clothed in a typical sparkly, princess dress. “Hi!”

“Oh!” you gasped, stumbling backwards with the force of the child’s hug. “Goodness, hello! You must be the little Starlet, huh?” The comment was teasing — you knew for certain this was your charge, but the girl beamed up at you through her fly-away hair.

“Yeah,” Starlet giggled. Her small arms, decorated in sparkly lace, squeezed you tighter.

A deep voice tinged with the worry only a parent could possess, suddenly called from the stairs. “Starlet! Honey–? Don’t run off on me like that–” They stopped, and you looked up — the breath in your lungs escaped as though you’d been punched in the diaphragm. “Fawn!”

You blinked, unable to form the words that would accurately depict the sight before you.

James was smiling — the very same one that made his eyes crinkle at the sides. The tight, navy blue, rounded collar shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, while black dress pants hugged his thighs.

It was true, you had seen him numerous times via your video calls and once in person, but nothing came close to preparing you for how he would be in the comfort of his own home; how his voice was just as deep, if not deeper, and trickled down your spine with the same heat as molten lava.

Oh, fuck, you thought.

Aloud, you said, “Mr. Barnes!”

James grinned and shook his head. “Fawn, sweetheart—please call me Bucky.” He neared you, his presence overwhelmingly close, and he leaned in for a hug that you nervously returned — all the while praying the hammering beat of your heart couldn’t be heard or felt against his muscled chest. “It’s good to see you again,” he rumbled, pulling away to look you up and down, and his eyes landed on your bag. “I’ll take that for you.”

“Th– Thanks,” you stuttered; the proximity allowed you to stare into his grey-blue eyes, a mix of colours you wished to capture and keep.

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours when he grabbed your bag, but he kept that same, priceless smile on his lips. “We started the princess marathon early, if you couldn’t tell,” he added, looking down at the ball of energy that was his daughter.

You grinned down at the little girl. “I can’t wait—I found so many things we can do, Starlet, and they all involve princesses.”

Starlet took off like a shot towards the front doors and into the house, her screech of glee loud enough to wake the neighbours — Bucky stood next to you wincing, while you rubbed your ear that was closest to the front door. The ringing only died down slightly.

“Oh, boy,” you muttered, “Someone’s a bit excited.”

Bucky laughed. The sound rich and something you terribly needed to hear again.

You looked at him, taking in his profile while he still stared towards the doorway of his home. The hair that looked almost black on the phone, was a deep, deep brown — where the sun bled through the surrounding trees, it shone a beautiful hazelnut. It was loose down his neck, and his beard was neatly trimmed with only a few grey patches to be seen.

The sign of his age made him all the more attractive — allowing a sense of maturity and allure to his already swoon worthy appearance.

“So,” you hastily started, willing the heat that started to build in your stomach to simmer instead of boil. “You’re off for a full day in the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Bucky replied, and he put a hand on the small of your back to guide you up to his home. “I’ve got back-to-back meetings that I can’t put off any longer, given my associates and their… inability to manifest a sense of patience. And I don’t like taking Starlet if I can help it—she’s such an active girl and she hates sitting in the corner.”

“That’s fair.” The stairs beneath your feet exhumed luxury you felt you couldn’t even stand in the presence of. “Have you been looking for a babysitter for long–?”

Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “Curious one, aren’t you, Fawn?”

“I–”

“I’m just messing with you, honey,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “And to answer you, yeah, I have. They all either were too uptight or couldn’t handle how hyperactive Starlet is—‘cause as you may have noticed, she’s a lot–”

“She is not!” You frowned and looked towards the inside of the house where Starlet was no doubt impatiently waiting for your presence. “She’s beautiful and sweet—creative and passionate, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks, honey,” he said softly, earnestly. The smile he gave you made butterflies erupt where there were flames only seconds ago.

Bucky walked you through the threshold of the front door, and you gasped loudly at the interior — it was a brightly lit, open spaced home with only counters and half walls to divide up the rooms, and there were numerous hallways that lead off of the main area. A grand staircase led to the upper floors.

“This is beautiful,” you said breathlessly, awestruck by the beauty. On the upper level, you heard the fast footsteps of a little girl running around, to gather things to show her new friend, you assumed, but what you focused on was Bucky’s prideful expression; a man that was happy and proud of the space he built for his family. “Really, really beautiful, Bucky. Wow.”

“You know how to make a fella feel special, Fawn,” he muttered bashfully with an accent you loved more than would ever admit to. A playful sense of amusement grew as you spotted a dusting of pink over his high cheekbones.

The air crackled with tension as Bucky looked up from the floor and into your eyes.

Before you could open your mouth and say something on instinct, Bucky looked towards the kitchen, then back at you. “Come here.”

He led you into the sprawling kitchen — the size of it far too big to comprehend with counter space akin to a working, industrial kitchen. A ringed index finger pointed to the fridge. “Now, before you go getting any ideas of spoiling Starlet rotten…”

There was a teasing tone to his voice, and it was raised to be loud enough for a certain pair of little ears to hear.

You looked to where he was pointing and saw a whiteboard hanging high on the door. Neat, orderly writing on one side; childish scrawl on the other. It had rules listed in bullet form: no extra chocolate, no extra sugar, in bed by eight…

“As you can see,” Bucky said, still in that raised tone. His eyes wandered to the upstairs loft that was above the kitchen, and you didn’t repress the urge to grin at him. “There are rules to follow, and Starlet agreed to them; do not let her convince you otherwise–”

“But daddy,” a petulant voice whined. You only just managed to stifle your laughter. “She didn’t have to know.”

“Starlet Barnes,” Bucky scolded, and the laughter you worked so hard to bite back almost broke free as he put his hands on his cocked hips, staring up at the loft. Your gaze followed his eye line and you saw the aforementioned troublemaker peering down between the railing, a deep pout on her lips. “You promised me you would behave, honey. Now come down here so I can say goodbye—daddy’s gotta go to work or he’ll be late.”

A loud whine followed Bucky’s words, and he shook his head before he looked at you. “Those are the rules, for her, anyway.”

You blinked. “What–”

The same fast footsteps from before now pelted down the stairs, and Starlet launched herself into Bucky’s arms, giggling as he lifted her small body from the floor and into the air with a grunt. “Are you going to behave for Fawn, honey?” he asked, resting Starlet on his side so her legs swung over his front and back. “You promised me you would, remember?”

Your heart swooped and lodged itself in your throat with the display of paternal affection.

“Yeah, I will,” Starlet replied, her small hands grabbing Bucky’s stubbled cheeks. “Daddy, you need to shave.”

No he does not, you thought privately.

“Thanks,” he replied, and he blew a raspberry on her chubby cheek. “Okay, be on your best behaviour; manners, honey, use them.”

“Mhm,” Starlet hummed. Bucky placed her gently down onto the floor, and her little, sparkled flats made a small click click sound as she walked towards you. “I’ll be good, daddy.”

You offered your hand to hold, and she took it eagerly, swinging your arm back and forth while Bucky grabbed his briefcase and bag. “I’ll be back late tonight, so don’t wait up for me,” he said to you. “Feel free to eat whatever or order in, my card is here–” He shoved a black card from his wallet into your free hand before you could protest. “And– Yeah, I’ll be back.”

“Bye, daddy!” Starlet called, pulling you along behind Bucky — who’s broad shoulders and muscled back was unfairly shown off by the cut of his shirt. “Talk to you later–”

“I promise, honey, I’ll call Fawn and say goodnight.” A dark blazer was pulled from its coat rack, and Bucky shrugged it on before he smoothed the wrinkles in the fabric, quicker than you could offer as you so desperately wanted to. “And in bed by eight, no later, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted, and the look Bucky shot you made you gulp — pure heat blazed in his eyes, and the flames that licked up your spine you dampened before reignited with a roar. “We– We’ll be good,” you stammered, praying to anyone that would listen above that you could survive the night with that visual at the forefront of your mind.

Bucky smiled and walked back to kiss his daughter on the cheek. Then, to your absolute mix of horror and surprise, he kissed your forehead, too. “My good girls,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’ll talk to you later.”

And the door closed with a finality that left you reeling.

“Can we go colour?” Starlet asked innocently, her bright eyes blinking up at you. “Daddy said he left me the best pencils and you brought pens?”

“Uh– Yeah, yeah—sure, we can go colour, sweetheart,” you said. Focus, you reminded yourself inwardly.

For hours, you spent your time between the set of plush couches in the expansive living room and marathoning movies that ranged from cartoons to the most ridiculous animations, to a small child’s table — colouring with the closest thing you would ever come to spending time with royalty.

Starlet certainly took it in her stride to act like a princess.

“But daddy said I could–”

“Go look at the fridge,” you said, smirking — you knew for a fact that she was attempting to pull the wool over your eyes. A deceptive, little lamb. “Daddy put the rules up there and he said, before he left, that you agreed to them—didn’t you, Starlet?”

Small, pink lips pouted heartily, and she stomped off towards the fridge, her shoes thudding over the floor. “Ugh.”

“Ugh, indeed.”

The night began to wind down a few hours later, and after colouring the whole duration, you decided a movie would be the best course of action to break up the monotony and brewing tantrum in the wriggling girl opposite you.

As a treat, you allowed Starlet to play a movie while she ate — only after she swore to you that she wouldn’t tell Bucky. The ploy worked, for as well as any child loved the idea of a secret, she fell head over heels into the sworn secrecy and happily tucked into her dinner while the princesses on the TV screen sang another rendition of the chorus.

You couldn’t help but watch her from the kitchen counter, where you were tidying away the dishes. It was with curiosity you admired the similarities between Starlet and her father, what you found and discerned during the short time of knowing the pair of them.

Starlet had the same bright eyes, the colour of her irises as beautiful as her father’s with the addition of an irreplaceable hint of childish awe and wonder. Her hair fell in waves; shades of what you could only describe as beautiful in the strands that prominently populated her temples to crown.

A sudden sense of contentment flooded you while you continued to gaze at her. Being invited and accepted into such a space was rewarding.

It was evident that Starlet’s birth mother was no longer in the picture, and you never planned to ask or know more than what you were told, but still, you wondered how Bucky was not snatched up. He was a charming, sweet man that adored his daughter — you would be lying if you didn’t take to heart the imagined scenarios that played over and over in your mind, of what it would be like just to be part of such domestic bliss.

The loud chime of your phone startled you from your thoughts, and you exhaled sharply just as Starlet’s head peered up and over the back of the couch. “Is that daddy?”

You looked down at your phone’s screen, smiling, and said, “Yeah, hang on, I’ll come sit with you and we can talk to him.” The screen flashed with colour as you swiped to accept his video call, and you were greeted with his bright smile.

“Hey, Fawn,” Bucky said happily, though he looked exhausted — the furrow between his brow had deepened in his absence from home. “How are my girls, huh? Behaving, I hope.”

“We’re here, we just finished having dinner,” you said, angling the phone to show a distracted Starlet, sans her plate (that of which had hastily been placed on the coffee table in front of the couch), and then back to you. “Starlet jumped up on the couch with me to say hello.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Is that so? Alright, where’s my little girl?”

Starlet scrambled to sit right beside you, and her happy expression filled the screen while you chuckled. “Daddy!”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his smile heart-warmingly fond. “Have you had a good day with Fawn?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding quickly. “We coloured and then watched movies and coloured more and–”

“A lot of princess duties,” you cut in, and Starlet giggled, her chubby cheeks turning pink with a blush. “We are in the presence of royalty, Sir Barnes.”

“Oh, do forgive me, your highness,” he replied with wide eyes. The camera shook as he moved, and you saw his desk top scattered with papers before the phone settled upright, pointing towards Bucky’s office chair. He bowed deeply — either intentionally, or ignorantly allowing his hair to fall over his face. When he looked up to the screen, loose tendrils of hair covered his forehead and danced over his eyes.

The last reserves of your self-preservation and dignity vanished as you tried to force your heart to not burst free from its new home in your throat — the way his eyes appeared through the slicked strands was an image you would never let escape.

“I humbly request an audience with the Princess.” Bucky neared the camera again, smirking — the bastard knew, you panicked.

Before you could spiral, beside you, Starlet said fiercely, “Of course, Sir Daddy.” She shifted to better look at the screen. “The Princess always has time for uh–”

“King, or knight,” you whispered into her ear.

“Knight!”

“How generous.” Bucky laughed heartily. He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands, showing off the glint of his rings and the generous muscle exposed on his forearms from his rolled-up sleeves. “Ah, my girls,” he sighed, looking into the camera. “I shouldn’t be too much longer—Uncle Stevie is being a punk–”

“Uncle Steeb!” Starlet squealed.

“Yes, uncle Steeb,” he echoed, and he looked off camera. “Get over here, she wants to see you.”

“Is that my favourite niece?” A second voice called, the volume increasing as they neared the desk. Starlet was positively vibrating out of her seat with excitement.

“Well, well, well,” they said, and suddenly, another handsome face came into view. He had blond hair that was slicked back, and his beard was neatly trimmed — deep, blue eyes glanced between you and Starlet with interest. “It is—hey, Bug!”

“Uncle Steeb! Uncle Steeb!” Starlet launched herself at the phone to hug the device to her chest and toppled it from your grip. “Oh– I sorry–”

“Don’t you worry, honey,” you soothed, and you ruffled her hair. “Just be careful, okay? Hang on, let’s pick this up–” The phone had thankfully been undamaged in the fall, and you smiled at the two men staring up at you with concern.

“You two okay?” Bucky asked — he was poised as though to run at a seconds notice.

“Yeah, all is good,” you replied, settling back on the couch. “Here you are, sweetie.”

Starlet held the phone as though it was a priceless jewel, and she spoke to her father and apparent uncle with such vigour it was as though she hadn’t seen them in weeks, rather than just a day. The topics broached what the princesses in the movie did, to what she coloured — it was an endless tirade of excitement that only made you smile as you watched on.

Soon enough, she started to yawn, though she tried to minimise and hide them. A father’s keen eye was not to be underestimated, however. “Baby, I think you better get to bed—it is close to eight,” Bucky said softly.

You glanced at the top of your phone’s screen to check the time for yourself, and you blinked — it was only seven when he first called.

“I’ll be home soon, and I will come and kiss you goodnight, okay? Fawn can put you to bed; she’s pretty good at bedtime stories, I hear.”

She looked up at you through glazed eyes. “You are?”

“I am,” you confirmed with a proud nod. “Why don’t you say goodnight to daddy now and we can get you set up and comfy in bed?”

“‘Kay,” Starlet mumbled sleepily. “G’night, daddy. I love you.”

Bucky smiled. “I love you, too, baby. I’ll come give you a kiss when I get home, I promise.”

You ended the call with a promise to do your best impression of the characters for Bucky, and beside you, Starlet sighed happily. “I love daddy; I love uncle Steeb.”

“I see that,” you chuckled quietly. “Now, c’mon, up you get—bedtime for her highness.”

It turned out to be a smooth, tantrum-free process, readying Starlet for sleep — she followed your guidance to a tee and had the independence to fit her title when it came time to pick out her favourite pyjamas.

She settled into the cocoon of blankets and plush toys that took up more room than her own small self on her bed, and you smiled down at her as you sat on the edge. Her small hand in yours made your heart leap.

There was a strange glint in her eye when she uttered your name sleepily. You raised a brow in curiosity. “Yes, honey?”

“Are you daddy’s friend?”

“Yes,” you said honestly, smiling. “Your daddy is a kind, thoughtful man. I am happy to be his friend—why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I–” She swallowed and furrowed her small brows. “He told me one time that there are special friends, and I– I–”

“Oh, Starlet– No, no honey,” you rushed, desperately smothering the rising panic in your chest at her implementation — the curious nature of a child was never to be scolded, but you did not think you could stomach this conversation, not on the first damned night of being under his employment. “I work for your daddy, and my job is to look after you when he can’t, okay? That doesn’t mean I am, uh– A special friend of your daddy’s.”

As much as I wish to be, you whined internally — though saying that aloud would be catastrophic, you had no doubt about that. Focus.

“Oh.” That same thoughtful gleam returned in her eyes, and you braced for another round of interrogation — as intimidating as a child’s questions could be. “Well, I think you would be a nice special friend for daddy. He smiles a lot when he sees you.”

It was your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. Words failed and escaped you; scattering to the winds, never to be seen again, while Starlet did nothing but stare up at you innocently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

“Uh– Ha, well.” You coughed and leaned back a little, willing your mind to connect back with an acceptable train of thought. “Um– Thank you, thank you for that, sweetheart. That’s very sweet of you.”

Starlet beamed, brighter than the stars above. “You’re welcome.”

When she finally dozed off to sleep after your indulgent tale of Rapunzel, you padded ever so quietly from her bedroom and carefully closed the door with a soft click behind you.

You only made it a few steps towards the staircase before you had to stop and think — the dull thump of your back and shoulders hitting the wall made you grimace and look to Starlet’s door, though she did not rouse.

“Oh my fucking god,” you rasped, rubbing your face with your hands, distorting the sound of your distress. “Goddammit all, ugh.”

Desperation and pure want clawed at your insides, savaging your attempts to control your impulses; the need for Bucky’s attention blew out of proportion tenfold with the words from his daughter.

Carefully, you tiptoed down the stairs, one by one, until you stood in the kitchen.

“He smiles—he smiles when he talks about me,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. The quiet sound of your feet padding over the tile grew in volume while you paced back and forth. “Bucky smiles—oh fucking hell.”

A war raged in your mind, split equal sides by morality and need; one side dead set on preventing you from making a fool of yourself, the other hell bent on allowing you in the indulgence of recklessness.

The possibility of it all not backfiring upon you was slim at best, but something nagged– No, pulled at your thoughts: what if Bucky felt the same?

“No, no,” you said aloud, grimacing. “That’s not possible—I can’t– He can’t, he’s older, successful–”

Your tirade was interrupted by a sudden beep from the security panel by the front door. “Front gate opened.”

“Shit.” You rushed to the front door and peered through the frosted glass. The fancy SUV that was parked next to your car before pulled into the driveway, headlights on and engine purring.

A heavy exhale of relief fell from your lips, and you resolutely decided to push the dilemma of his affection to the side; a project for the back burner that was your ever running mind.

The SUV parked and fell silent, the headlights and taillights dimming, and you turned back around towards the kitchen to heat up two plates of dinner in the oven — silently thanking your decision to make extra.

Footsteps sounded by the front door, and it swung open, not even creaking. “Fawn?” Bucky called quietly, his voice lowered so as to not awake Starlet upstairs. “Honey, where are you?”

“Kitchen—getting dinner for us.”

Soft footfalls came from the entryway and towards the kitchen, when Bucky rounded the corner. You smiled at him, which he returned tiredly. “Hey, how was Starlet? You okay?”

“She was great, we had fun, and she was sweet. I learned that Rapunzel is far superior over Sleeping Beauty, but nothing, of course, beats her ultimate favourite.” The oven behind you beeped, and you turned to open it and fetch the dish of food, but Bucky put a hand on your elbow and gestured for you to continue with your tale as he grabbed the oven mitts. “And she tried to worm more chocolate out of me, naturally.”

Bucky’s laugh sounded rich and deep, a sound you wished you could hear over and over. “I knew she would.” The dish in his hands was placed onto the countertop, and you set to cutting portions to eat; surreptitiously making sure Bucky had more than his fair share.

“Do you want to watch–”

“Why don’t we sit on the–”

The two of you stared at one another, eyes wide and smiles playing at the corners of your lips. “You first,” Bucky offered, chuckling quietly.

“I, uh– Do you want to sit on the couch–?”

“Sure, honey,” he replied, and he picked up your plate with his free hand. “Grab us a drink?”

You took a deep breath when Bucky turned his back to you. You’ve got this, you intoned.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and you were grateful for it — while it was your job and your pleasure to look after Bucky’s daughter, the little girl sure had boundless amounts of energy, and it was hard work keeping up with her.

After clearing your plate, you set it down onto the coffee table. Bucky was still going, so you settled into the plush cushions and watched the plain, mindless show without taking it in.

“Fawn, sweetheart?” Bucky whispered suddenly; voice close enough that you could feel the exhale of breath with his words.

You startled and blinked rapidly — the room was dark, the TV off and the lights dimmed.

“There you are,” Bucky cooed. He was sitting right next to you, his hand on your knee as he half faced you. “You fell asleep, honey—you feeling okay?”

“Oh– I, uh– Shit, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, sitting up. The blackened screen of the TV reflected the clock in the kitchen to show that it was only nine at night. “I better go—you no doubt want to go to sleep soon after such a big day–”

“Fawn, hey– Stop, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed, and he put a hand on your shoulder — the heat from his palm made your mind whirr with possibilities. “It’s okay. I let you sleep; you looked dead on your feet. I only woke you up because I thought you’d want to go home to your partner.”

Heat bloomed over your chest and up your neck, the way Bucky was staring at you made something stir that you would much rather stay dormant. “I, uh– Don’t have a partner, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered.

The silence could have engulfed you whole — tension billowed in the air, and you fidgeted, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said eventually, and you shivered at the sound of his voice; lowered an octave and raspy with what you guessed was shock. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have assumed. But let’s get you home, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, getting to your feet.

Bucky handed you your bag, all neatly packed and organised, and walked you to the front door and down the front steps. “I don’t mean to presume, but can I ask you back again to watch Starlet–?” he asked, looking at you.

“Of course,” you blurted, and you meant it. “She was a fun bundle of energy, and you know how to contact me if you need me again.”

You tried, wholeheartedly, to fight the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as Bucky opened your car door, and then took your bag to place it in the trunk. In a roundabout way, you wished he would be insufferable, even arrogant in his disposition — it would have made it easier to banish the swelling crescendo of want that started to consume you.

“Will you message me when you get home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, nodding. “I– I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Bucky brought you close in an embrace you returned, and you savoured the warmth of his body; the feel of his arms around you as he held you tight.

Though it had to end.

You pulled away, out of his hold, and moved to sit in the driver’s seat of your car.

“Get home safe, Fawn.” Bucky closed the door after you tucked your feet into the well, and he leaned against the side of your car.

“I will.” You smiled up at him, and then you turned the keys in the ignition.

The car spluttered and clunked back to silence. Bucky was looking towards the hood of your car with concern. “Oh, it’s just temperamental,” you said to reassure him, and yourself.

You tried again; you tried a third time, but there was only a piteous groan from the engine before it gave in, falling silent each time. “Great, just great,” you muttered angrily, cursing your luck that carried on from when the car first showed signs of kicking the bucket. “Fuck.”

“Pop the bonnet,” Bucky said, adjusting his sleeves. “I’ll take a look.”

Oh, boy, you groaned internally at the sight of his forearms flexing again, but you complied.

The metal creaked and groaned its protest of movement when Bucky pulled the hood up, locking it in place with one hand while the other dug into the engine bay. A determined frown pulled his pretty lips at the corner. “The old girl is on her last legs,” he gritted out through clenched teeth while he fiddled and yanked at parts of the engine. “The mounts are close to giving out and it looks like the battery is… well, fucked.”

You sighed, the sound hitching on a frustrated sob. “Can you– Can you call me a cab? I’ll get someone to come tow it in the morning, or something–”

“Fawn,” Bucky said fiercely, and he looked at you while he closed the hood of your traitorous car. “Do you think I’m going to send you home with some stranger when you’re clearly and rightfully upset?”

“But–”

“But fucking nothing, sweetheart,” he insisted, his tone somehow soft — like he cared. “Please, I have a spare bedroom—fuck, I have several, and you are welcome to any one of them until we can get you home tomorrow.”

The use of a curse drove his point home, so did the earnest glare in his eyes.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, and you gestured at yourself. “But I haven’t brought clothes– What about Starlet in the morning? She doesn’t know–” She will get the wrong idea; Bucky doesn’t know what she’s said, you silently fretted, but there was no way to give voice to your worries, not in your distress.

“Honey, please, you can use some of my old clothes—they’ll be comfortable, and you’ll be modest. Just let me help you,” Bucky implored. He held a hand out, an offering to guide you back inside. “We can work it all out in the morning. I’m off tomorrow, and hell, Starlet would love having a friend over for breakfast—it’s pancakes and bacon.”

“That does sound pretty good,” you murmured, wringing your hands. The nagging feeling of imposing upon his hospitality would not dissipate, though. “Are you sure? I–”

Bucky shook his head, an exasperated smile on his lips. “C’mere, Fawn,” he said, and he slung his arm over your shoulder. You attempted to clamp your jaw shut around the shocked sound in your throat. “I’m sure. I can’t leave my Fawn high and dry; not when I can help.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you allowed Bucky to lead you back into the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Without a word, he paused at the top of the stairs and retracted his arm, hanging it by his side as he walked towards a larger, single door — you moved to follow him, but he placed his index finger over his lips, before he disappeared behind it. The house was silent in the absence of Starlet’s giggles and rambling rants of royalty, and you found yourself fidgeting in place while you waited for that door to open again.

As though he heard you, Bucky opened the door and walked towards you, offering a worn, soft, black henley, and a pair of dark sweats. “Back in my twenties,” he began, smiling down at the offered clothes, “I was twice the size—fucking obsessed with vanity. But these will be comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking the offered clothes. The movement made your fingers brush against his, and something changed — the air grew thick with crackling energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “I– I will, uh, talk to you in the morning?”

Bucky nodded and stepped back; you tried not to whine from the loss of his proximity — luck was not on your side. Something must have shown of your inward pleading in your expression.

“Fawn?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. “You okay, sweetheart? You look–” He licked his lips, the action drawing your whole attention. “You look lost.”

“I’m fine,” you replied weakly, and you nodded once as though it would make it reality. Truthfully, you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole — the late hour naturally stripped you of your inhibitions, and God…

You cursed temptation to the high heavens.

“You sure?” Bucky asked, and he stepped closer again, his presence looming near enough to make your heart thunder against the confines of your throat.

“Mhm.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, and stepped forward again — you stepped back, forcing yourself not to melt onto the floor with how your knees shook. “Sweetheart… There’s something you’re not tellin’ me.”

The sudden dryness in your throat made you cough, and your eyes watered with the reflex. Bucky stepped closer and you backtracked until your heels hit the skirting board, your shoulders and back following close behind. “I– Ja– I mean, Bucky–”

His hands moved to either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. “Yeah?”

Your mouth parted in shock, but nothing came to mind to defend yourself, or any urge to push him away.

Bucky hummed, tilting his head. “Fawn, you know if this isn’t okay you are more than welcome to knee me where the sun doesn’t shine—but look at you.” The breathy quality of Bucky’s voice made your stomach knot with arousal.

This was wrong, your mind screamed; this is what you want, your heart shouted.

“You’re desperately fighting against something, I see it; it's in your pretty eyes, baby,” he purred. “Talk to me—tell me what’s wrong, why are you fightin’?”

Bucky’s face loomed closer to yours, his lips parted only slightly, and you prayed for strength as you fisted his shirt, to pull or push him away, you couldn’t decipher — he was so, so close, if only you just reached out–

“What are you fightin’, my little Doe?”

“Oh– Bucky, please–” Thoughts swirled and escaped your grasp, faster than you could claim the words and the will to do the right damned thing. “Please, I– Hmph!”

His lips claimed yours, the softness of them insistent, desperate, and you moaned into his mouth from the rush of adrenaline. “Yes,” you breathed against his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck, forgoing your hold on his clothes.

The sweetness of Bucky’s lips made you chase them when he tried to pull back; you were starved for more, and he obliged your hunger by pushing you harder into the wall, his hands moving down your shoulders, your sides, to settle on your hips with a bruising grip.

Bucky’s tongue brushed along your bottom lip, and you moaned again, letting your tongue dance with his; the relief of finally allowing yourself to give into the urge you’d been constraining against was liberating in every manner, even if it were risky, you were determined to make the best of it.

It was only when he pulled back for breath did you realise he had been pawing at your hip and ass, the fabric bunched in his fists while he panted for air. “Fuck,” he murmured, and he started to laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest through the gasps for air. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that,” you agreed breathlessly. “Fuck.”

The two of you stood in silence, catching your breaths, and you waited for the fall out of it all; the implosion that lurked around the corner.

“Fawn,” Bucky said quietly, and his index finger brushed along the underside of your chin; grey, inky eyes met yours with such intensity you almost collapsed under the heat of them. “I want you, baby—I wouldn’t have gambled my chances if I didn’t even have a hunch of what was going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“How did–”

“Never you mind, sweetheart. I’ve had my fair few rodeos with this; I can read you like a book.” The soft press of his lips against your forehead made your heart flutter. “Why don’t you get some sleep, hmm? We can talk in the morning—bright eyed and bushy tailed.” His quiet chuckle made your lips quirk up in a smile. “There’s my girl.”

You were unable to form the words to express the inner turmoil that brewed — that had been the best kiss of your life, Bucky liked you back, you hadn’t lost your job as you thought you would, and you were standing in Bucky’s home with an assortment of his clothes to wear while you slept.

“Fawn, baby,” Bucky teased, and he pulled you away from the wall. His hands rubbed down your arms before he knelt and picked up his discarded clothes, handing them to you with a smile. “Go to bed—you look like you’ve seen a ghost and been given the best news all at once. Get some sleep.”

The bedroom he guided you towards was spacious and just as luxurious as what you had seen of the rest of his home. Light colours filled the room; pastels and darker pops of paint made it contrast in a tasteful way, while the linen and pillows looked divine. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest and a smile on his swollen lips. “If you need anything, sweetheart, I’m just down there,” he said, pointing down the hall, back towards the room with the larger door. “Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”

You looked at him, blinked, then smiled. “Yeah– Yeah, goodnight, Bucky.”

Relief, elation, fear all flooded you at once as you sidled up the mattress and under the covers. They drowned you beneath the waves of overwhelming thoughts of what would happen now; fear for what your future held.

Would it include Bucky? What would Starlet think?

It all amounted to the sheer relief that while you hadn’t initiated the risk, it happened, and your courage bound and leaped with joy for it.

And if you did a little squeal of joy and grinned wide enough to make your cheeks hurt as you tucked yourself into the plush blankets to sleep, it was nobody's business but your own.

the next part is already written. 😉🤭

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #dilf bucky barnes #rookthorne's works #babb2023 #alternate juneiverse #SweetSpicyHearts

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littlelostmoon · 6 days

Text

könig with a small titty gf ༢ೀ⊹

tags [boyfriend könig x fem reader] smut, mild hurt/comfort, established relationship, insecurities, biting, grinding, spit wc 950 [oneshot]

a/n first real post ♡

you weren’t stupid. you could tell how much könig adored your tits.

it started on your third date with him. it was a rather hot day and you swapped your usual sweater for a lace camisole, a detail that wouldn't go unnoticed. on several occasions he had to tear his eyes away from your chest with flushed cheeks.

you assumed he was inexperienced and his little infatuation would wear out with time. but, no— each time könig gets his hands on you, he’s overcome with desperation.

you’ve lost count of how many times he’s had you straddle his lap while you do something completely mundane (like chatting about your day). if you accidentally brush your chest against his, there’s a good chance you’ll feel the heat of his bulge growing against your thigh. “my fault, prinzessin…”

other times könig is shameless. stressful days on the field often wipe him of all decorum, so he’ll interrupt whatever you’re doing at home by pressing his frame against your back, large hands easily cupping your tits. it makes him breathe heavier in your ear. “missed me, schatz?”

needless to say, you were never insecure. that is, until you’re curled up in his bed, messing with his hair as he plays some shitty mobile kingdom game, phone absolutely tiny in his hands.

he’s had the app for months to de-stress (which is cute) but you haven’t truly sat and watched him play until tonight. all joy evaporates the moment you realize he can’t build new fortresses without watching a long ad— usually of some huge-breasted woman in historically inaccurate armor.

“verdammt ads,” he huffs.

“why don’t you just get the paid version?”

“waste of money.”

you couldn’t help yourself from prodding. “frugal. you like seeing them or something?”

he stares at you for a second before returning to his game, clicking around and updating his armor. ��you puzzle me, schatz.”

"le'mme pay, then.”

he raised his brow as if you just suggested stealing from the homeless. "nein."

well, that whole interaction bruised your ego. the man had no problem buying you an overpriced coffee or taking the whole bill on dates, but couldn’t scrape up the cash (or let you scrape up the cash) to get anime tits off his screen? seriously?

you pull away from him and roll onto your side, facing the wall. after a few moments the ambient music from his phone shuts off. must be ready for bed. whatever. no cuddling tonight.

just as you reach a semblance of peace, your eyes snap open at the feeling of being manhandled onto your back. oof.

könig hovers close over you, knees on either side of yours. his raspy voice indicates he's lacking good sleep. “what do you think you’re doing?”

you shrug to the best of your ability. all of your space to breathe is occupied by him. there’s no real venom behind his words or how he handles you; he merely forgets his strength, especially under stress.

“could it be that mein häschen is jealous?”

you shake your head quickly, attempting to wriggle away. könig only braces himself firmer above you. your face grows hot— the scent of his aftershave is intoxicating, and his focused gaze doesn’t help.

“don’t lie to me.”

“fine,” you stutter, and everything flows out at once. “why wouldn’t i be? you don’t give a shit about spending money until it comes to the fucking advertisements of girls with their tits out."

the room is hit with intense silence. you can only hear the air conditioner buzzing and crickets and cars and it nearly drives you insane. he just looks down at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. is it disappointment?

no, könig knows you. despite the bite in your tone, he probably understands that you're seeking reassurance. or, that's what you hope. never been on your boyfriend's bad side.

finally, he moves, lips resting dangerously close to your neck. you can feel a breathy chuckle fan across the length of it, pulling you from your thoughts. “want to know what i think, prinzessin?”

you nod nervously still, but the pang of jealousy is wilting and blooming into something exciting.

“you are what is worth money to me.” he then coaxes your inner thighs apart and settles his hips between them, voice coming out strained. butterflies circle low in your stomach when you realize what he wants to do.

“könig…”

“don’t even notice other girls, just want you, always thinking of you, häschen…” his accent is thicker, now. he’s evidently hard as a fucking rock, huge, and it rests right between your legs.

you squirm as he holds your pliant hips, grinding crudely against the wet spot in your panties. you’re dizzy from the feeling, slumped back against the mattress and taking whatever he gives you.

for just a second you miss his hands on you before he pushes your bralette up, exposing your tits to his (now fully blown out) eyes. calloused fingers brush against your nipple and you swear it makes his cock twitch in his boxers.

könig’s free hand finds one of yours, much smaller, and pins it above your head. he grunts at how tight you squeeze when his breath ghosts across your chest, mouthing each of your nipples until they’re slick with his spit.

he might be drooling. you might be, too. you don’t care.

“pretty, perfect girl…” he says it all with his mouth full, panting, hands splayed across your ribs while he bites and sucks little marks all over. he then passes his tongue in neat sweeps over each bruise, attempting to soothe the pain— but you both know your tits will be sore for a week.

soft noises spill from your lips but the daze of arousal has you practically incapable of being shy.

you assume the same is true for him. he's rambling at this point, vocal as ever, shifting your hips up to tug your panties. “get these off before i cum early and have us both soaked, engel. wanna feel it in your stomach."

#könig #könig smut #könig oneshot #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty oneshot #cod oneshot

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agendabymooner · 8 months

Text

keeper ! alex a. x ofc (kpop idol!ofc)

"and she my backup like to say she was my plan b. kinda ironic 'cause with her, i'd start a family."

summary: in which polly jintara berkshire, whose friend was an ex of an f1 driver, juggles her role as a blackpink member and alex albon's girlfriend. OR this is just a series of photos showing how down bad the couple are for one another ❤️

content warning: chatfic + tweets, use of explicit language, a lot of dirty jokes (nothing graphic), alex albon is a blink, references to stormzy songs, fluff

note: the title and quote is referring to my favourite tobi and manny song. anyway enjoy xx (i hope my jokes are funny enough)

masterlist

tagged blackpinkofficial, boamckinnon, thepolsci

liked by nicholaslatifi, jennierubyjane, roses_are_rosie

alex_albon kicking my feet when thepolsci pointed and winked at me tbh 😍😩 have my kids pinned by alex_albon

thepolsci no U HAVE MY KIDS 🥰 liked by alex_albon

landonorris absolutely shameless

georgerussell63 this isn't who we are, alex 🤦‍♂️

user1 bro who did you even go with 😭

alex_albon latifi 😊

user2 WHAT ARE YALL DOING IN A BLACKPINK CONCERT EVEN 😭

user3 alexander albon, driver on sundays and a blink every other day 💖

user4 lad i think it's a spider not a snake?

user5 shhhh don't ruin it for him. he's just being himself <3

user6 i just want him to show up one of these days in an interview and begin bonking the other drivers with his light stick like pLEASE ALEX

williamsracing cool stuff alex, but why didn't you take me there -logan liked by alex_albon

alex_albon big kids only, sorry mate. i'll bring the merch to you tho!

tagged thepolsci, ygentertainment, blackpinkofficial

liked by jennierubyjane, boamckinnon, logansargeant

user1 NO ALEX YOU LOOK COOL NEXT TO HER

user2 we gotta humble him- booooo get back in the car albono

charles_leclerc tell her she's very cool liked by alex_albon

alex_albon she doesn't need reminder 😎

jennierubyjane do we go to you for free marketing?

alex_albon no, you'd have to give me pols for the whole year then i can do free advertising

williamsracing this is not what your pr manager taught you and you know that alex

roses_are_rosie don't worry, your level of coolness heightened a little! liked by alex_albon

alex_albon phew! i thought i brought her down to my level tbh

thepolsci don't say that to yourself, you utter dickhead

alex_albon ily

user3 YES ALEX!!!! STREAM MONEY FOR CLEAR SKIN

alex_albon my real skincare routine is money on loop 🎼

thepolsci when we reach 8 figures you can have my kids liked by alex_albon

alex_albon are we talking combined salary for the next few years bc we can start the process now???

oscarpiastri touch grass

logansargeant this is not who we are alex

tagged thepolsci

liked by pierregasly, lance_stroll, danielricciardo

user1 MAN IS THIRSTY

user2 AND HE'S OWNING HIS THIRSTINESS

user3 now this- this is the standard

user4 are you talking about the picture or the guy who posted it?

user3 yes.

thepolsci screaming crying wailing

thepolsci on my knees frfr 😩😭 liked by alex_albon

alex_albon stay there 😇🏃‍♂️

user5 ALEX ?!!!

user6 MAN IS DOWN BAD

user7 if my gf is a baddie and a keeper i'd be down bad too 😭🤭 don't make fun of my boy like that

tagged alex_albon

liked by logansargeant, roses_are_rosie, jennierubyjane

user1 tbh a trip to paris doesn't hurt 🤔

user2 i want him or i want to be him idk 🧐

user3 ain't no way these two just made stormzy references on their posts

user4 girl serenaded alex with sidemen diss tracks before it's no wonder she posted this with a uk rap song 😭

user5 THAT'S PEAK LMFAO

alex_albon never!!!! liked by thepolsci

thepolsci ily bitch

alex_albon aren't you the sweetest 😩

thepolsci say it back 🥲

alex_albon thx buddy 🤩

thepolsci nvm i h8 you

user6 this is an emotional rollercoaster wtf 😭😭

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ozzgin · 3 months

Note

Could I perhaps request something with Guriko from Worst? Maybe foreigner S/O that makes him work for her number or attention? I just need a sassy girl who doesn’t put up with his shit lol

Oof, I was trying to avoid Guriko at all costs. Not because I don’t like him or anything, but I was faced with the dilemma of whether I should stick to the 8-girlfriend-harem or whip him into monogamy. Would he still be the true Guriko, then? That’s the trouble. But the way you worded it, I’m tempted to go for the latter. Additionally, if it’s alright with you, I’ll be using this as the opportunity to do even more character headcanons. Hence the delay. ^^"

WORST Characters x Reader (II)

Featuring Hanaki Guriko, Kurosawa Kazumitsu, Nara Akira, Higuchi Shuuji and a new-in-town Reader who grabs their attention.

Come get your delinquent boy content! I included photos for those who don't know the characters. (Once again my attempt to advertise old school manga because there's not enough of us out there)

Content: female reader, foreigner reader, Japanese delinquents, everyone is 18+

Hanaki Guriko

Uh oh. Whatever Eriko-chan was complaining about is no longer registered by Guriko's ears. He's holding the phone away from his ear, frozen in place. Are his eyes deceiving him, or is a cute foreigner sitting by herself just a few steps ahead? Without a word he hangs up and shoves the device in his pocket. Sorry, Eriko-chan, he can't miss this chance of a lifetime. He approaches you with a predatory smirk and questions with furrowed brows how a hottie like you ended up alone. You glare at him with a bored expression and assure him you can speak Japanese just fine. Even better. He slides next to you and introduces himself, reaching for a handshake. "(Y/N)." Is all you respond. "A pretty name for a pretty girl, eh?" He retorts, smugly. "You know...Not to intrude or anything, but I might've been more impressed with your flirting if I didn't just hear you talking on the phone with a girl, calling her 'baby'." Ah. Damn it.

"And? What did you tell her?" Kurosawa is leaning against the wall, holding the cigarette between his lips. Naturally, he was the first to hear about Guriko's complaints. To whom else could he have whined? His girlfriends? "I tried to explain it's my little cousin." He pouts a little, then continues. "She started laughing and said next time she won't forget her clown nose." Kurosawa chuckles at the image and gives his friend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "That's what you get for trying to pull this shit on a foreigner." The man, however, straightens his back and crosses his arms, with a glint of determination in his eyes. "Nah. I still have a chance. She said 'next time', didn't she?" The strongest man in town isn't about to shy away from a challenge when it arises. Once he has his eyes on something, giving up is no longer part of the vocabulary. He'll win you over one way or another.

...Even if it means paying for it dearly. "C-can you repeat that, please?" He mumbles in a sheepish voice, turning pale. As luck would have it, you happen to live on the same street as the Umehoshi Household. Which made it easier for him to find you again, but it also means you've been briefed on his situation by the Suzuran boys that were eager to get their revenge for his scummy behavior. "I think you heard me just fine, you shameless horndog. If you insist on dating, you can't keep your harem of girlfriends." You stipulate with a scowl. He closes his eyes, weighing the options. You are hot, and he does like your attitude. Is it worth ditching everyone else for it? After a moment of contemplation, he shakes his head solemnly. "Alright. I'll break up with them right now as you watch. But that makes us official. Deal?"

You're wondering if this was to your advantage, after all. Against your expectations, Guriko is a very involved and caring boyfriend; having all those girlfriends before you certainly paid off, as he knows exactly how to spoil you and can read you frustratingly well. On the other hand...you're not sure if you can get used to the reputation. True to his word, he has made it very clear you're his girlfriend and so it's not uncommon for you to bump into someone and have them beg for forgiveness, muttering something about being the Demon's woman. "What exactly have you done to have people this terrified of you?" you ask, baffled, during one of your dates. "Didn't I tell you?" he states proudly, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "I'm the strongest around! Only the best of the best for Miss (Y/N)." You blush at the words, but before you can open your mouth he adds: "Also, can I come over to your place tonight? I don't want to spoil the fun, but I got you something to wear for me~" Nevermind. You ruffle his hair with a groan. "I should put a collar on you, like the dog in heat you are." You conclude.

Kurosawa Kazumitsu

Christ, what the hell is he doing? Kurosawa is pacing back and forth, taking another drag on his cigarette. Earlier this week Guriko approached him with an idiotic grin on his face, begging for a favor. One of his girls had befriended a foreigner and they didn't want her to be the third wheel. Somehow he was conned into some sort of a double date with a complete stranger. He whips out his phone and is about to text the bastard he changed his mind, but it's too late. He hears that annoying voice calling him: "Yo, Kurosar~" and then, to someone else: "That's the guy. He looks scary, but he's just an awkward loner, heheheh". Kurosawa turns around, opening his mouth to bark a proper comeback, though he is quickly silenced one his eyes meet yours. He did not expect to instantly fall for you.

The fact that you're good-looking obviously makes matters even worse. He's not much of a talker to begin with, and now he feels like someone just gave him an uppercut straight into the jaw and twirled his brain into mush. "So, you went to Suzuran?" You ask politely, sitting next to him at the table. "Y-yeah?" he mutters, dumbfounded. Why the hell did he phrase it like a question!? His heart is threatening to burst out of his chest and he's twisting and turning the chopsticks in an attempt to calm down. It doesn't help that Guriko is in his own little world right now, baby talking to his girlfriend like the two of you are invisible. Maybe he should spare you the disturbing view. "I'm going out for a smoke. Wanna join?" He finally manages to state with some regained confidence. Outside he can exhale in relief. "Sorry, I don't like groups that much." He explains, and you nod in agreement. Would Guriko even notice if the two of you were to sneak away? Worth a try.

And so he finds himself walking you through town and lastly back to your place. It's only common sense to take your date back home safely. Right? He can only guess, as he's never been in this situation before. "Well, it was nice hanging out with you." He says as he turns away. He can definitely imagine your delight to be done with this overall awkward, spontaneous date with a shady looking guy like him. "That's all?" You inquire, raising your eyebrows. He freezes. Did he forget something? He faces you with a confused expression. "What, don't tell me you want to exchange numbers or something." You stare at him expectantly. Oh.

Kurosawa is the typical cool and laid-back boyfriend. Compared to the other delinquents, he prefers to keep to himself, so most of his free time will be spent with you. He's also rather stoic and prefers to listen to you talk. He's not too expressive and tends to show his affection through physical gestures rather than words, like hugging you from behind or giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. Surprisingly, he can be quite jealous and if he sees someone trying to flirt with you he won't even bother to give any warnings, he'll knock them out and proceed with his day as if nothing happened.

Nara Akira

"Cool bike." Akira doesn't immediately respond to the comment behind him, doing a final check on the engine. Probably some curious brat anyways, so he just mumbles a thank you. Finally he gets up, wipes his hands and turns around. Once he realizes who spoke to him, he nearly chokes. Oh, God. He's had a dream or two involving girls, but none dared to venture as far as a cute foreigner suddenly hitting him up. "Uh...Are you okay?" You ask, raising your eyebrows in mild worry. He realizes he's been staring like an idiot, with his mouth wide open. "Yeah, sorry about that." He fumbles to reply. Fuck. How the hell do you talk to women? He scratches his now burning cheek, trying to come up with something else to say. Thankfully you spare him the torment and casually follow up with questions about his custom motorcycle and printed leather jacket. He answers with way too many details, trying to drag it on for long enough to figure out a way to ask for your number.

Not as smooth as he would've preferred (he ended up stuttering it right before you left), nonetheless his first ever female contact outside his mom and relatives is now in his possession. He returns to the junkyard and greets the others with a lazy sway of the arm, whistling. "What's with that shit eating grin?" One of the Armament guys inquires. "Oh, nothing, nothing. Sorry for being late." Akira answers casually. "Late for what? We're not doing anything", the other man retorts, incredulous. "It's just, you know, I would've arrived sooner if it wasn't for this girl complimenting my bike..." he finally makes his point, smoothening his hair. The place goes quiet and even Shougo has to walk out of the shed, not believing his ears. "What did you say?"He retells the story like an apostle before his followers, omitting his anxiety and pitiful attempts.

Although all the bragging will have been in vain if nothing else comes out of it. So after a lot of coaching and teamwork (the rest of the bikers are just as invested now) he manages to type out a message to ask you out on a date. He sends the text with the somberness of a president signing off a historical document before the masses (the guys don't believe he can pull it off). Shortly afterwards they all gaze at the affirmative response peppered with cute emojis, mesmerized. Is this what it's like to talk to a girl?

Akira is a little clumsy when it comes to romance, even though he has the best intentions at heart. He's not the most chiseled and often forgets you're with him when some other guy is looking for trouble. Even among the Front of Armament he has a reputation for being reckless and violent. Thankfully, he is not without help. Occasionally he will surprise you with unexpectedly thoughtful gestures; Takumi has taken it upon himself to discipline your boyfriend. All you need is a little bit of patience. In his mind, Akira doesn't have the looks nor the brains, he's just strong. Thus his only way of proving his worth to you is by fighting other people.

Just a funny interaction I thought of: During the war with E.M.O.D., Akira becomes somewhat fidgety and nervous and eventually asks you if you find Muneharu to be handsome. You cross your arms and frown. "If there's one thing I hate in this world, it's guys that are popular with chicks. Makes me wanna vomit." You argue with a grimace. Akira has to look away and cover his burning face. That's...that's his catchphrase. Is it too early to look for a ring? Because he's officially decided you're the one.

Higuchi Shuuji

The men throw Hana a doubtful look. "Oi, are you sure about this...? We're not going on a holiday. We're about to fight the Manji Empire!" Mitsumasa finally words out everyone's worry. The Suzuran senior laughs and pulls the hood over your head. "It's fine, it's fine! No one can tell it's a girl. And if they find out, I'll take care of it." You smile nervously and ask again if it really is okay to join them. You were curious to see the supposedly strongest gang in Japan, but you don't want to be a burden. "Do what you want, I don't care either way." Is what Amachi concludes, walking ahead. Muneharu quietly observes the ongoing argument. To be quite honest with himself, there's only one thing bothering him presently: how the hell did these guys befriend a cute foreigner girl?

You sheepishly follow after the team and into the building. This is where the matches should take place in order to settle the conflict between all the parties. Soon enough it's Amachi's turn to fight, and a man with cornrows and patterned shirt steps forward. He barks something about fairness, that he's not going to fight an injured man (pointing at Amachi's bandaged face). Then, he swiftly proceeds to smash his own head against a pillar and you gasp in shock. That's one way to make it equal, you think to yourself. "That's Higuchi Shuuji, leader of the Zento group." Sera whispers in your ear, seeing your surprise. "Has a hot temper apparently." You nod. That's...a mild description. Despite the bleeding forehead he joins the fight, completely unbothered. Although it quickly becomes obvious the brief contact with concrete is taking a toll on his body. The fight doesn't last long, and Amachi returns to your group, victorious. Feeling bad for the fellow, you sneak towards the passed out Manji leader and splash some water over his face, offering to bandage his wounds.

Once it's time to depart, Higuchi glances at you, suddenly remembering to mention: "Thanks for the help, by the way. You one of their lackeys?" He inquires, given you didn't take part in the matches and just sat aside. You turn towards Hana and he nods with a smile. "Guess there's no point in hiding it anymore", he says and you promptly lower the hood of your jacket. "I'm (Y/N). Not exactly a lackey, just a friend." The Manji guys stare for a long moment, speechless. Higuchi suddenly groans, irritated and red faced, and runs a hand over his head. "Fuck! Y'all bring a fucking girl over and let me embarrass myself like that?! And a pretty one too...Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you all right now." He moans, exasperated. No way. Is he still out of it? Did he mess up his head for good? Out of all the times...you had to see him lose like that. He feels like strangling someone. "I...uh...I'm sorry?" your begin, but you're unsure what exactly to apologize for. "Give me a minute" he announces, abruptly pulling you after him at a safe distance from the rest of the confused group.

“What did the weirdo want?” Mitsumasa asks, eyeing you suspiciously on the train back to Toarushi. You wave your hand in dismissal, trying to hide the faint blush dusting your cheeks. You’d rather not have this kind of conversation on public transport, and besides, how would you explain that one of the Manji leaders had quite literally asked you out on the spot, and you just went along with it? They’ll find out either way at some point. Maybe due to your sudden frequent trips to Tokyo, or because Higuchi’s yakuza-like appearance gathers the attention of the delinquents in your small town.

Your relationship most certainly won’t go unnoticed. Not with his short fuse and obvious jealousy. He’s the type that’ll immediately start a fight if he thinks the bloke passing by stared at you. “What the hell? Were you looking at my girlfriend? You must have a death wish, motherfucker”, he’ll warn loudly. You often have to keep his attitude in check, pulling him back and scolding him to stop threatening people. He’ll naturally do his best to listen, but he does love your assertiveness and it’s hard to focus when you’re being this cute. Alright, alright, he'll try to be less aggressive (It lasts a day).

Bonus scenario I had in my head after writing this: The Manji leaders sitting at a table and discussing the next potential gang war, until one of them notices Higuchi's phone wallpaper. "What the hell is that?" he can't help but blurt it out in disbelief. "Oh, (Y/N) wanted to try out a new cat café and they took this photo of us. Comes with hearts and shit, but eh. It's nice" he explains, indifferent to the grimace of the guys piled up to gaze at the cute themed, cat-eared picture.

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motherloads · 7 months

Text

Right Side of My Neck

Pre! Identity Reveal. Alt. timeline of my first Tim Drake fic ◡̈

Me when me when I see readers fawn over my other fics, asking for pt. 2 but what I give is this: Tim Drake and Spider-Woman! Reader *cheering noises*

Summary: The reader is a new hero in Gotham City, known as Spider-Woman. Despite knowing of the no-meta rule, she continues to patrol the city in broad daylight.

What's to say that the bats are allowing this? At every meeting, they try and stop the unknown woman from fighting their battles. With no idea of who she is, they are struggling to maintain their no-meta rule.

Unknowingly, she forms a friendship with Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown. Shameless flirting ensues when she starts to connect the identity of the bats.

Who is she but not a Spider who captures her prey?

-> Pairings: Tim Drake x Reader

-> Marvel/DC Crossover

->Warnings: None!

not proof read! oops,,,

⋆｡°✩

You looked back at me once. But I looked back two times.

"At some point, you need to realize that maybe, just maybe, you need to start advertising the no meta rule?" Stephanie Brown questions Bruce Wayne. She taps her feet impatiently, watching the man skim through the news reports of Spider-Woman. His separate file regarding the woman is on his other monitor.

"I do not have a no meta-rule," Bruce grumbles as he cross referencing similar heroes who tried to debut in the past. None match up and it was as if Spider-Woman did not exist before. Not in any city, town, or country was she ever sighted. It was as if she was a ghost.

"Technically you do," Duke shrugs, "You always growl about no meta's being allowed in Gotham. I was the exception, remember?"

"I do not growl," Bruce points a glare at Duke who shrugs shamelessly. "Aren't you supposed to be out patrolling? Go find the new hero, only god knows what she's up to."

Duke ignores his comment, deciding to suit up for patrol to escape Bruce's ongoing investigation.

"I thought we agreed to not use feminine pronouns," Steph reprimands, "They haven't revealed their identity. We can't just assume they go by she and her."

"I'm too old for this," Bruce sighs, "But fine. Can someone atleast try and follow their tale? I have meetings back to back today."

"I'll get Tim on this," Stephanie agrees, "But, before that. I think Alfred sent us his grocery list for the week." Stephanie waves goodbye to Duke and Bruce.

⋆｡°✩

"Spider-Woman is a menace!" Her coworker reads out loud, "A menace to society and for the vigilantes in black. God! Jameson is one hell of a woman to be blasting the new hero out this way." He throws the newspaper away, shaking his head in annoyance, "I think they're pretty cool! Their helmet matches perfectly with the Red Hood. I wonder if they have some sort of alliance."

"I don't think so." Another coworker pipes up, bagging the groceries for her customer, "I don't think they have the ability to kill villains the same way Red Hood does. They probably have some moral code? I think they'd match Nightwing the best."

"Definitely not Robin. He's too...aggressive for Spider-Woman to deal with. Plus, he's a kid, so they'd probably argue." Her final and third coworker shrugs, "I honestly like that they're a solo hero."

"What if there is more like them? Like a Spider-Society where they protect the multiverse," She spoke out against her coworkers, grinning shamelessly at her reveal, "Spider-Women in the Spider-Verse."

"Now where do you get that idea from?" A new voice muses. They all turn their heads to see Timothy Drake. His eyes, as tired as ever, make eye contact with the girl. He smiles at her in response to her staring, "Seems like a far-fetched idea."

"I know them," She grins, leaning against her counter, looking at Tim from beneath her lashes. She senses him squirm in response to her look, "Might even know their identity." She teases.

"Care to share? I'd love to know, for research purposes."

Her grin widens at his response, cocking her head innocently at Tim who continued to squirm in her gaze. "Why? Want to ask them out on a date?"

"No-No. I'm just curious! Does that mean you don't know?"

She pushes herself off the counter, continuing to check Tim out. She noticed the array of coffee flavors and things that are normally on her customer's grocery list. She assumed he was doing his own for his butler, Alfred.

"Of course not. I'm just a college student." She shrugs, "50.42. Will that be cash or card?"

Tim mumbles his answer, passing her his card for the transcation. His face still felt hot from her onslaught, but he decided to ignore how fast his heart was beating. Instead, he focused on her hands. Her hands were a light shade of purple as if she was healing from a bruise.

"Hey wha-" He gets cut off when she passes his card back to him. She tilts her head at him, making his heart stop again.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing, Nothing. I-See you later?" She nods in response, watching Tim walk away from her counter quickly. She felt a laugh bubble up from inside of her.

"God, you're shameless." Her coworker sneered. She only laughs in response.

⋆｡°✩

"If I were a villain, where would I be?" She hummed, moving across the rooftop she was on. Her helmet's eyes furrowed, zooming in on a robbery in a nearby bakery.

"Gotcha," She whispers, moving down to the bakery. She notices the baker being held at gunpoint as customers run out of the store. She paid no mind to the customers who tried to push her aside as she stepped foot into the scene.

"Hey! Mr. Big Bad Wolf! Has anyone ever told you not to huff and puff in a bakery before?!" She paused at her words, suddenly realizing her mistake, "Sorry, Sorry. I think I mixed up my fairytales."

The robber immediately drops his gun and himself to the ground. Shaking like a leaf, the robber immediately starts blabbing out an apology. "I swear I had no bullets! I swear- I just need money! My kid's in trouble! He's sick and I-" She cuts him off, webbing the gun and bringing it to her.

"The shelter across the streets offers monthly emergency grants to 20 lucky folks each month. Luckily, the application opens tomorrow. I'd recommend you apply to it instead and-" She pulls out her wallet, free from any sort of identification. Counting silently, she slides a hundred to the man. "This should cover the medicine until you receive the emergency grant. If not, just tell the clerk Spider-Woman sent you."

The man nods frantically, taking the hundred and running out of the bakery. The baker sighs in relief, sliding down the wall hazardously, "I thought today was my last day, genuinely..." "Not your time yet, I suppose," She begins to skim through the selection, humming to herself as she reads the items out loud, "Lemon Pie sounds good. I'll take a slice." The baker immediately stands, rinsing their own hands from the dirt on the floor. In the blink of an eye, they were packaging a whole lemon pie.

"I said one," Spider-Woman frowns as the baker pushes the box to her. She could smell the lemon wafting off of the pie from where she stood.

"It's a thank you. Also on the house," The baker responds instead, "I'm Felicia by the way. Felicia Hardy."

"Nice to meet you, Felicia," Spider-Woman nods as Felicia smiles warmly. Her smile disappeared when the door jiggled. A person came into the bakery.

She felt no reaction with her spider senses. No imminent danger was presented. When she looks, she is immediately face-to-face with Nightwing, "Funny seeing you here. I swore just yesterday you were at Bludhaven, Mr. Wing!"

"Had some business to take care of here," The man easily grins, nodding at the baker in return as she stares in awe. "A little bird told me you were sighted in a bakery. Wanted to see the situation." The minute he ended his sentence, she felt another presence in the bakery.

"Little Bird? Does it happen to be Robin?" She questions casually, leaning against the countertop. She rested her hand on the bag with her lemon pie.

"How do you always know," A younger voice scoffs. The occupants in the bakery turn to the corner shrouded in darkness. There, stood Robin in his little mighty glory.

"The spider in the corner told me so," She responds instead, "Now...are you both going to take me in?"

"That's the plan," Nightwing grins, "Want to put your lemon pie on the side?"

"No, it's fine," She tightens her grip on the bag, "Got places to be, Mr, Wing. You'd understand, right?"

"Answer our question first," Robin spits out, stepping forward into the light. His katana, held menacingly and glinting from the lights was pointed at her. "Why did you let the robber go? He could have been lying and you let a man go. He could kill someone!"

"Listen, kid," She sighs, "I don't have to tell you anything- We aren't teammates and in no way, do I want the Bats in my business." She pauses at her words, feeling her nose wrinkle from under her helmet. Stepping closer to Robin, she takes a long, deep breath.

"You have a dog?" Both Nightwing and Robin tense at her words, "A smell lingers from you. You live on a farm?" She turns her head to Nightwing and does the same to him, "Do you like swimming? You have chlorine in your hair." When both of the vigilantes stayed rooted in their spot, both from equal shock, she continued. "You smell like someone I see around here. Are you in contact with Tim Drake?"

With that, she shoots four simultaneous webs at the duo's feet. Rooting them to their spot, she salutes them and runs out of the bakery.

⋆｡°✩

At this point, the constant meetings with the Bat's made her realize the similarities they all hold with one another and a particular person she loved to tease. Nightwing and mini Robin were not the only ones who had that particular scent.

When she met Black Bat, she noticed how the smell was not as intense but still lingered on her person. Specifically to the gadgets she had on her self, they had a combination of metals that had created it and everything that screamed Tim.

When she met Signal, it wasn't the same. He had more of a scent on him compared to Black Bat. Specifically his hands and shoulders, although she wasn't sure why. When she began to do her research and find blurry photos of Signal and pictures she had taken of Tim, she realized Tim stood shorter than the vigilante.

Batman himself never strayed close enough to where she can smell him. He always maintained a distance, as if he knew what she had been researching. But he had no clue, right?

Tim's scent lingered on Red Hood and apparently they likely had many fist fights with one another because of how strong it stayed on the older man's fists. Hell, if she was near him close enough (which was almost always never) she can catch a hint of blood.

Spoiler had the second biggest scent out of all of the Bat's. Tim's scent was everywhere to her hair, skin, suit, and shoulder. This had made her go crazy, but don't tell anyone else that it was embarrassing when she had stumbled into Spoiler's arms to make sure there wasn't anything apparent on her face.

But doing so made her realize how similar she smelled to Stephanie.

Red Robin had been the one who easily dodged her efforts to get anything off of him. If she thought Red Hood was hard, then she was in for quite a shock when Red Robin kicked her helmet, knocking her back a notch.

"I know what you're trying to do!" He shouts at her, "The others have told me you have been taking big sniffs at them, what are you even planning?"

"I'm testing a hypothesis," She grits out, adjusting her helmet's lenses as Red Robin kicked them out of place, "I just need to confirm something, just hold still!"

"No!" He calls out, taking out his grappling hook in a quick motion. He makes no sound of a goodbye as he shoots away. Scoffing under her breath, she easily sticks a web onto the mans shoulder.

Pulling herself back, she launches herself onto the vigilante's back. He yelps in shock, not expecting her to latch on around his waist. Her arms wrap around his neck as she tilted his head back. Taking a hard sniff, her senses went into overdrive when she realized how familiar his smell was.

Sighing in relief, she leans her head further into his shoulder, she is interrupted from her thoughts as he lands on a rooftop. Trying to remove her, he grabs at the arms that would not budge. Then, he tried her legs. It was the same outcome.

"Come on!" He growls, "Get off!"

"No," She spits back, "You're an asshole!"

"I didn't even do anything! You're the one smelling the entirety of all the Bats! What next? Going to sniff Joker?!"

She steps one foot down but immediately goes to kick the back of his legs. Red Robin falters as he falls to the floor. Above him, she sits on his lap. They both stare at one another.

"I was wondering why every single Bat had this one recognizable scent," She begins, her frown masked by her helmet, "It drove me crazy, Red. Absolutely crazy that I thought the person I knew was being stalked."

She sees Red Robin's mask furrow in confusion. Still, he made no effort to move her off of him. "Even smelled the clothes he let me borrow. To see how similar it was."

Removing her helmet, Red Robin stares in shock as the spider's eyes were revealed. A familiar color he couldn't help but feel a blush rise from his face and around his ears. He noticed her eyes shift to his neck, that was most likely red as well.

He could not see her lower half, she had it covered with a mask the same color as her suit.

"Tim, did you know that cologne never truly washes out?" She leans close to his face, brushing a strand of his hair away from covering his mask. Tim felt his breath hitch at the name unroll from her tongue. One syllable and one identity reveal. "I think you need to prioritize washing the smell out." She tilts her head, her eyes crinkling as she smiled under the mask.

"How-" Now, Tim pushed her off of him. Doing his own move, which she made no effort to stop, he landed between her thighs. She was on the floor, staring up at him. He was on his knees as his breathing became uneven.

"Right side of my neck always smelled like you," She muses, "Whenever you gave me a hug, it would always linger. I liked it a lot."

Without a second thought, Tim pulls off the woman's mask.

He stares at a familiar face, who smiles at him. The cute smile he always felt shy about and guilty that he constantly lied to them. The cute smile that was apart of his profile picture of her.

The cute smile of the person who he would have never thought was the vigilante they were chasing after.

He breathes out her name.

"Hey, Tim."

#tim drake x reader #reader insert #x reader #crossover #red robin x reader #identity reveal

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