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biteyoubiteme · 5 months ago

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sour apple flavored

taehyun x fem!reader

synopsis: someone or something is always waiting by your window at night, why not leave it unlocked and see what happens?

warnings: 🔞!!! incubus!taehyun, somno/dudcon , spit kink, spit as an aphrodisiac, oral (f!rec), overstim (f!rec), slight nipple play, marking, lots of kissing, mentions of masturbation, no protection, creampie, cum eating prob forgot some

wc: 2.7k

an: I don't know how well I did with the dream v reality mix but I tried sorry if it gets kinda confusing ;-; this is 100% inspired by devil by the window it was on repeat as I wrote it no explanation needed. ive never written something like this and I don't know if youll like it but I definitely had fun <3 not proofread sorry! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the other fics here! [dumdum m.list]

The dreams always started the same way; like waking up with the sense of being watched. The moonlight coming in through the open window that you never remembered opening in the first place. Gauzy curtains rippling in the soft breeze cooling down your flushed cheeks. You never saw him standing there right at the edge of the windowsill until after you've sat up, bed sheets pooling around your waist as you rub at your eyes trying to get them adjusted to the darkness.

It was always so eerily silent, the only sound coming from your gentle breathing. It's the slight tilt of his head at the sound of your sigh that makes you realize you're not alone. The shine on the little black horns on his head caught the silver moonlight, night air catching the strands of his hair on his brow. It's the curiosity in his eyes that keeps you from being scared, every slow blink taking you in like a wanting cat deciding if you're worth the time.

You're sure it's a dream because no one has ever looked so beautiful, especially not any of the boys who find themselves lucky enough to make it into your bed. No, the only way you can describe him is otherworldly, born from your dreamscapes amalgamation of every desire you've craved in a partner.

The tempo of your heart starts to pick up, flush deepening just eyeing him. It's what makes him smirk so subtly that if you hadn't been watching his mouth you wouldn't have realized his expression had changed at all.

It was impossible to think about anything else but what it would feel like to run your fingers over his tanned skin. All his defined muscles on display for you. Images of you and him flickered through your head like you've already been here before, like he's been pressed against you in this very bed while you kiss along his chest and to his jaw. Your thighs clench swearing you can feel his hands on you even if he's only across the room, the ghost of his fingers trailing between your legs just barely brushing over the soaked fabric of your panties.

That alone has you falling back to your pillow, hips jerking trying to meet the image halfway as if it's not in your imagination but a tangible thing you can reach if you roll your hips just close enough. You don't even have to reach down to touch yourself, your hands curling in your sheets as you watch him through hooded eyes.

“Please,” it's a desperate plea so quiet you don't think he's heard you. But although he does not move from his spot by the window you can picture what it would look like if he did. Your legs spread like he was right there between them with his nose brushing up your sensitive skin closest to where you need him the most. And yet all he does is watch; the ghost of his imaginary touch so close before you're barreling into reality.

The feeling of waking is similar to being feverish. Clammy skin and aching joints like you've been brought back to life instead of reminded that he's not real. But the feeling only lasts a few seconds before the lust washes over you again, eyes finding the empty space he should be and isn't. It's hard to fall back asleep, tossing and turning, craving a man who doesn't exist. The only thing that can satiate you is getting off to the thought of him, your climax better alone thinking of him than when you've ever been with someone else.

This is one of taehyuns favorite ways to feed. the desperation is palpable as you work yourself up, your climax coming off you in waves when it finally crashes. you'll look over to where he should be blinking like it will make him appear and he's always so tempted to let you see him, knowing one kiss and you would be so willing.

But he wanted you to feel tortured over not having him, so much so that the second he made himself known outside of a dream you wouldn't think twice before letting him take you for all you were. The chase was his favorite part; playing with his food like a cat with his little mouse, so unsuspecting. Of course he was not fully satisfied only watching but he knew the second he went in it would only be better because of the wait.

Every night he was waiting by your window, watching the way you arched your back, hips sinking into the mattress, every sweet moan beckoning him. He watched the way his dreams affected you, that sweet serenity on your features when you saw him standing there begging him; beckoning him.

He watches even when you're awake, the moon hanging in the inky sky as you work at your desk. You never open the window, at least not since he's started to come around. He remembers that first night he heard you, alone in bed trying and failing to get off, just his presence so close helped finally push you over the edge. Your eyes screwing shut, every sound leaving you intoxicating enough to bring him back.

Tonight it's as if you can see him waiting, your eyes finding his spot over and over so much so you get little work done at all. And then you open the window.

It's not like he can't get in if you don't let him, it's just a rule he's set up for himself when around you. Waiting for something to break in the cycle before taking the next step and now your curtains are catching the wind; a white flag waving to call a truce to a game you didn't even notice you were playing with him.

He swears he is only going to step inside and watch, let his dream work on you like it always did but as soon as he stepped to the edge of your bed he couldn't think of anything else besides putting his hands on you.

Even in your dream he was so close to you, finally there at the foot of your bed instead of the window. Now out of the shadows you can make out more of his features, catching sight of the wings on his back, the inky black feathers always blending into the darkness.

“Please, please,” each word a rock thrown at the broken window masquerading as his resolve.

“You always look so pretty begging for me,” his knuckles running over your cheekbone, your head turning to try and chase the feeling.

In reality he watched the way you mimicked the movement, the sheets of your bed tangled between your legs, rustling with each turn of your thigh. Soft hums breaking into sleepy words, “i-i want…”

“Hum?” in the quiet of the room the hum echoed between you two. But even in your dream you could hear him.

“I want you, i-,” he arched his brow as you cut yourself off but you were distracted by the pad of his thumb brushing under your eye, lashes fluttering as you lost your thoughts, “i need you,”

“Do you?” his thumb followed the line of your nose dipping down to your waiting lips, tracing them like a memory.

“Yes,” your head dipping just enough to be seen in reality.

He leaned down over your sleeping form, his lips just ghosting over yours, your body mimicking the way it was in your dream trying to catch the kiss before he thought better of it. But being this close wouldn't stop him now, he had never wanted someone as bad as he wanted to have you.

The second his lips pressed to yours it was like a blanket of calmness, knowing he would take care of you without any need for worry. But as much as you wanted more than a simple kiss he pulled away tracing his nose along your jaw and down your neck. Lips pressed to your hammering pulse, hand sneaking down to press against the fabric of your panties. You can feel his grin against your skin, fingers feeling along the wet outline of you, circling your clit.

It's then that you wake up, for a split second your body tenses softening when he speaks.

“Its okay,” he whispered, nose pressed to your ear, “there's no need to be scared i know exactly how to take care of you,”

You reach out for him, tentatively running your fingers against his smooth warm skin, following the lines of his muscles. “Are you real?”

He gives a soft chuckle nose dipping to brush yours, “more than real,” and this time he completely devours you in a kiss.

Its an all consuming kind of kiss, your hands coming up to twist in his hair needing him closer, your legs spreading as he adds more pressure to your clit. When you open your mouth and his tongue touches yours you feel warmth spread from the contact. The taste of him makes you crave more, feeling feverish to keep as close as you can get to him. Even in the time that you dreamt of him you never felt a craving like this. This temptation has haunted you, reaching out for the apple night after night.

Taehyun pushes your panties aside feeling along your slick folds; so much wetter after having tasted him, his saliva already working to make you needier. He kisses down your chest pushing down your tank top to swirl his tongue around your nipple, your back arching to push into him. He can feel your arousal coursing through your body, the hum of it right there under his hands, fueling him to keep going.

He pulls away dipping his head down between your legs like you've wanted him to do after every dream you've had. His wet lips leave trails of kisses up your inner thighs before pulling your panties down all together.

The moan that leaves you the moment his mouth is on your clit is shocking. He licks up your wetness devouring you as you pull on his hair, hips jerking as you ride his face. And he lets you, moans sending vibrations through your core, one hand reaching up to tug on your nipple and the other wraps around your thigh to hold you open. He sucks deeply on your clit, your head rolling back, a silent moan leaving you before you're falling into your first orgasm.

He knows exactly how much he needs to to lick to get you there, can feel and anticipate everything it would take. The feeling is a tidal wave over him, the rush of feeling fed for the first time in a long time. Not the little bits he's gotten from watching from afar, no, something that makes him even hungrier than he initially was before.

He hums in the back of his throat, he pushes two fingers into you collecting your wetness watching the way when he pulls them out the strings of your arousal clings to them. “I love the way your body reacts to me, look at it,” he shoves his fingers into his mouth groaning, “you taste like you were made for me,”

Your whine in response, knees falling open wider as you watch him push down his trousers. Just seeing the mere sight of his size has you clenching around nothing. “I don't know if-”

“It will fit and if it doesn't i'll make it fit,” he leaves no room for questions, hand wrapping around his veiny shaft, beads of precum already on his tip. He's a sight to behold in front of you. The way the moonlight hits his tanned skin, makes the feathers on his wings shine, muscles flexing as he pumps his cock, kneeling over you like a fallen angel.

He leans over you letting a droplet of his spit drop down onto your waiting cunt, the natural effect of the aphrodisiac already having worked on you but the more he added would make the experience more pleasurable.

Hooking his hand into the pit behind your knee he pushes your leg up the head of his cock bumping your entrance before pushing through. Even just the tip feels like a stretch you won't ever be able to replicate. The soft whine leaving you turns into an open mouthed moan as he inches in. not even halfway in and you're feeling the pressure pressed against your gummy walls, your hands reaching out to grab at his arm, nails digging into his skin. “You're already doing so good,” he praises, pulling out just a bit before pushing in all the way.

“Oh god-” you moan as he grabs your other leg and when you think you can’t feel him any deeper he's letting your legs catch in the crook of his elbows, pushing you legs wider, pushing in until you can feel him in your throat.

“Look at that, you did so good taking all of me,” he leans down until his nose is brushing yours catching your mouth with his, “tell me does it feel as good for you as it does for me? So warm and inviting,”

“yes,” you nod, feeling the weight of him as he starts to pump in and out of you. So far in you can feel him in your stomach taking control over your body. Your arms wrap around his neck, nails scratching down his back as he pounds into your wanting pussy. Hips knocking yours as he keeps up his pace.

Taehyun didn't want to lose control but he's never felt this good while feeding. Every sound, every touch, the way you felt wrapped around him was sending him spiraling, a deep rumble rippled in his chest as he took over. Your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach, white hot and uncontrollable.

You can't even think straight anymore except that you don't want any of this to stop, not now, not ever. The echo of your skin slapping together a soundtrack to your pleasure, his lips sucking marks onto your extended neck as he muttered sweetly, “so patient waiting for my cock, touching yourself while you thought about me hum? Imagining what it would be like if I got my hands on your pretty pussy, what it would feel like if I circled your clit until you came,” and its like hestalking the dreams back into reality, the feeling of his fingers on you just like before without him ever touching you, tracing the lines of your body, rubbing your clit until you're seeing spots. You cannot tell what is real or not anymore before you feel yourself break. You're trembling as you cum trying to find anything to hold onto, scratching up his back as your pussy pulses, sucking him in, thighs trembling.

It's the pure unadulterated lust pouring out of you and into him that makes his moan come from deep inside of him. His body stilling as his cock twitches, hips as close as he can get them to yours before he spills his hot cum deep inside you. He's never felt so much cum leave his body before, never knew what it felt like to be fully satiated when it came to a feeding.

You're a whimpering mess as he pulls out, hips still jerking, pulse found right against your clit. You can feel your combined release sliding down your legs, puddling on the mattress as he gently kisses down your chest and stomach coming back down between your legs to look at how he ruined you.

“You did so well for me,” he smiles, lips brushing your clit with each word as you try to scurry away from the overstimulation. But he's not so kind as to notice instead licking up your folds, sucking on your puffy clit watching the way you thrashed, tears right on the edge of your lashes until he pulls away. “I don't think I could have anyone better to feed from,” he grins, lifting himself up, wings spreading open behind him before he leans down to kiss you again, the taste of the two of you mixing on your tongue. “Would you like it if I came back again and again?”

“Please,”

🏷 taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572  @tomorrowxforever @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553  @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5  @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh

#taehyun x reader #txt taehyun #taehyun smut #kang taehyun #taehyun #txt smut #txt #txt fanfic #tomorrow x together #yeonjun #huening kai #beomgyu #txt x reader #soobin #kpop smut #kinktober

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dwaekkicidal · 10 months ago

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Kiss it Better

˚ʚLee Know x Gn!readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Minho has a rough day at the company and comes home exhausted, craving your loving.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: <1k (~650)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: nothing its just tooth rotting fluff

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: double post because ty for 100 followers :3 also max this is ur fault (AGAIN LMAO) im so weak at the idea of this help

edit: MAX POSTED HER OWN VERSION OF THIS PLEASE GO READ IT

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Not long after his messages, Minho waddles into your shared apartment. Kicking his shoes off and throwing his keys on the kitchen table without any care. You peak your head out of the bedroom at the sound of the front door closing. When his eyes meet yours, you see the deep scowl on his face, but his eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You smile softly and make grabby hands at him before ducking back into the room to start the shower for him. In seconds he’s following you and undressing through the doorway, desperate to get his sweaty clothes off.

You wait patiently on the bed and scroll through your phone. It doesn’t take long for him to return in his boxers, towel drying his hair on his way to the bed. Your phone is quickly tossed to the side and you pull him into the bed with you, watching as he throws himself on his stomach and groans into the sheets. You hold back a giggle at the sight and opt to run your hands down his bare back. He shudders but you can see him physically relax when your hands lightly massage his upper arms. He turns his head to the side, looking back at you as much as he could without straining himself.

“You wanna talk about it? Let me take care of you tonight baby..” You whisper out, the softness in your voice making his eyes shutter close as he nods lightly. You swiftly move to straddle his thighs, placing a kiss on the back of his shoulder and trailing down very slowly as he speaks up. He goes on for a while, explaining how the new choreography they were learning was extremely draining, telling you about the argument he got into with one of the members, and whining about the quality of the dinner he had at the cafeteria. He goes into light details about every other little thing that chipped at his happiness for the day while you trail kisses down his bare back. Your soft hands massaging up from his arms to his shoulder blades and you hum in response to every experience he lists, placing extra kisses for each as a reward.

By the time he’s done telling you about his day, he’s all but a puddle underneath you. Eyes shut and muscles completely relaxed. You back away to sit up, softly dragging your nails up and down his back to keep the attention on him. A wide smile spreads on your face as your eyes catch one of the cutest sights you think you’ve ever seen. Soonie lays next to Minho’s face, licking his hand as he softly caresses his baby. Not far away, Doongie and Dori are laying near each other and sleeping against your pillows. You carefully reach for your phone and take a picture, before laying beside your boyfriend and Soonie.

“Feel better?” Your voice startles him, his eyes closed and breathes lighter than normal. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes to respond with a quiet “Mmmg..”

You get up and walk over to your closet to grab a blanket, not wanting to disturb any of them by going under the sheets. You pick the softest one you own before returning. Soonie is gone when you kneel on the bed and you could almost thank him for the chance to be close to Minho.

You lay your head on the empty space left on the pillow and watch as Minho drags himself up to you, shoving his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. Your hands trail through his hair, massaging his scalp softly as he drifts off.

The two of you fall asleep like this, tangled in each other. There’s a quiet “Thank you" and "I love you so much.” from Minho as he finally falls asleep. You respond with a soft kiss to his forehead, drifting off shortly after.

#lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #sian’s writing

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katelynnwrites · 3 months ago

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Here’s To Hoping You’re Worth All My Time (I Hope You’re Worth My Time) | Lea Schüller

warnings: some swear words, description of migraines in detail

word count: 4451

summary: five months after you and lea break up, you’re convinced you’ll never cross paths with her again. life has a funny way of bringing people back together though.

a/n: realised that if i want to read schülli fics, i have to write them so here we are 😊

The headache started somewhere in the middle of your third class.

Rather gingerly, you rub your temples and try to ignore the pulsing pain. Despite your best efforts, the pain continues to grow till it’s clear that you are going to have one of your full blown migraines.

You get migraines every so often but with have gotten better at managing them over the years. The combination of cutting out caffeine, medication and getting enough sleep have worked so that the truly bad ones, the kind that keeps you incapacitated for hours have become few and far between.

One hasn’t happened for a while and you suppose, with a wince that you were inevitably due for one.

Now that it’s happening though, it is all you can do to text your classmate and tell her you won’t be able to make the rest of your classes.

The bright glare of your phone screen makes your head ache more fiercely. With squinted eyes and more than some difficulty that you read her reply in which she hopes you feel better soon and that she will convey your apologies to the professors.

That being done, you try and fail to focus back on your current class. By the end of it, you are desperate to go home and just lie down with all the lights off.

Normally you would take the bus but today even the thought of it is too much. A ride sharing service would be the quickest way back to your apartment.

The ride itself passes in a blur, nausea has begun to affect you and you spend the twenty minutes back to your apartment concentrating on trying not to throw up.

When the driver drops you off at your apartment, you stutter out a quick thank you before you run up the stairs, taking it two at a time to get to your bathroom.

Just in time too because you gag uncontrollably, whatever is left of your breakfast coming up unpleasantly.

You stay beside the toilet, coughing until your stomach somewhat uneasily settles.

With watering eyes, you stand up shakily to rinse your mouth and then reach for the bottle of Eletriptan that usually sits on the shelf above your sink.

Except that your hand closes around nothing. Your migraine medication isn’t there.

You stare at the empty space uncomprehendingly until it hits you.

It’s at the place where you babysit. Sometimes the parents would pay you extra to stay overnight with their kids when they had late night work functions. Last week you’d stayed over and brought your medication over as a precaution.

The family is nice and you know they would have no problem bringing over your Eletriptan if you asked. The problem is that they are currently on vacation in France.

You can actually picture where you left your bottle of medication. On the counter of their guest bedroom.

Blinking back tears of frustration and pain, you bite your lip. You hadn’t gone through a migraine without medication in years. Especially not one as severe as this.

‘Fuck.’ You say out loud.

‘Fuck.’ You repeat and then do the only thing you can do.

Going into the kitchen, you get a glass of water and take it into your bedroom.

Thankfully, the blinds are already closed so you don’t have to deal with the bright sunlight making your head hurt more than it currently is.

You manage two sips of water and then toe off your shoes, collapsing into bed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you exhale and inhale, slowly counting to a hundred and then eventually to five hundred.

Everything is okay, you attempt to convince yourself as you start counting from one again.

You ignore the fact that even with your pills, your migraine usually takes an hour to subside. There’s no telling how long it will go on without the medicine.

Another deep breath in and out. Over and over again.

Somewhere in between, you briefly entertain the notion of going to a pharmacy and getting some over the counter migraine medicine instead. But none of that stuff has ever worked for you and even if you are distressed enough to try, you know you are in no condition to leave the house.

At the very least, the fierce ache in your head has not gotten worse. It isn’t better either though. It still feels like someone is stabbing you right between your eyes and god it hurts.

It’s nothing short of excruciating but there is nothing you can do except to keep your eyes closed, remind yourself to keep breathing through the pain and hope for the best.

Then you remember.

You have another bottle of Eletriptan. The one you left at Lea’s place.

Against your will, salty tears slip down your cheeks. Fucking hell.

It’s not as if you can get to it. You’re not able to go over and beg. Even if you are willing to go to that length, your pride would never allow it.

Lea had told you to get out. So you did. The end.

Besides, your ex is probably away for international break or an away game of sorts. The chances are high that she isn’t even in Munich right now.

That’s what you tell yourself as another agonising hour crawls by.

It’s been three hours since you first got back and you don’t know if you can take much more. A particularly harsh throb hits and that makes your decision for you.

With a weak sob, you cave and reach for your phone.

The brightness level is on the lowest setting but the sudden glare still has you scrunching your face in discomfort.

Finding Lea’s contact is as much as you hate it, easy. For some unknown reason, you hadn’t yet been able to bring yourself to delete it.

Tapping on it before you can second guess yourself, you put the call on speaker.

It rings and rings. To the point where you think she won’t answer.

Right when you are ready to admit defeat, a voice comes through, ‘Hello?’

‘Lea?’ You whisper.

‘No sorry, this is Obi. Lea’s not here right now. Can I take a message?’

You hesitate. You remember Obi, Lea’s brunette best friend. She’d been nice to you back when you were dating but telling her that you are practically pleading with Lea for your much needed medicine seems far too personal.

A few seconds of awkward silence pass and then there’s some muffled noise on the other end.

‘Hi it’s Lea. Sorry I took a bit.’

You don’t actually need her to introduce herself. The sound of her voice is etched in your memory, as clear as day.

Pausing again, you wonder if you should really do this. Lea could be stubborn and closed off sometimes but she had never been mean. As bad as things had ended between you both, there is surely no way that the striker’s changed so much that she would be cruel enough to withhold your medication.

That is, if she hadn’t simply thrown it away.

You’re taking too long to decide because the blonde tries again, ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

‘It’s me.’ You softly answer.

‘Oh.’

She didn’t sound angry. Or annoyed. You’d take that.

‘I-I’m not interrupting anything am I?’

Your ex exhales quietly, ‘We’re kinda in the middle of a gym session.’

‘Sorry I wouldn’t be calling but I-I really need your help. It’s sort of an emergency.’

You wait for her to reply but nothing comes through.

Then rather steadily she asks, ‘What’s the emergency?’

Swallowing the last of your pride you say, ‘Um…Could you please run back to your place and get something for me?’

‘You want me to leave training the day before a big game to go back to my apartment and get something for you?’ Lea slowly states.

Wincing, you forget she can’t see you and nod. It sounds far worse when she puts it like that. Resignedly, you accept your fate of burying yourself back under your blankets and trying your hardest to sleep this migraine off.

‘You’re right. It’s stupid. I’m sorry for calling, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll just-’

Lea cuts you off, ‘What is it?’

‘What?’

‘What do you need me to get?

You blink in surprise, ‘My Eletriptan. The migraine medication I take. I left a bottle of it at yours and um, never got it back. I don’t have another one presently and I need it.’

The forward lets out a breath and it is enough to have you wondering what the hell you are doing. Asking your ex that you had a far from amicable break up with, for a favour?

Quickly backtracking once more, you rush out, ‘It’s alright. You don’t have to. I’ll figure something out.’

‘No. It’s okay. You need it. I’m assuming you’re at home?’

‘Yeah.’ You breathe, hardly daring to believe your ears.

‘I’ll be there in half an hour. Lie down and close your eyes in the meantime.’

‘Okay.’ You manage.

It’s all you can get out.

Like Lea had requested, you stay laying down and let your eyes slip close.

They fly open again at the realisation that the blue eyed woman is actually coming over. Your apartment is in dire need of a good tidy up, the stress of the past few weeks, no doubt a factor into today’s pounding headache have left you behind in your cleaning.

Lea will definitely see the state of your place, a sharp contrast to her own which had always been neatly organised in the past. You think about getting up and trying to get rid of some of the mess but even the mere act of sitting up makes your head spin.

So you lie back down and keep your attention on breathing through the pain. The Bayern Munich player is just dropping off your bottle of pills. It’s not like she is going to stick around so why should you care?

Except that you do. You have always cared when it comes to Lea Schüller. Such is your weakness for her.

But any sort of movement has your body protesting so you have no choice but to stay very still, not moving from your spot as you drift in your own head. One deep breath in…and one deep breath out.

Till a soft, ‘Hey.’

You automatically try to sit up, a sharp whimper tumbling from your lips as the resulting pain shoots through your head.

Lea’s hand grabs onto your elbow, steadying you and she murmurs, ‘Take it easy. Just stay where you are alright?’

Forcing your eyes open, you take her in as best you can.

The same brilliant blue eyes, lean athlete’s build and shoulder length blonde hair. Still absolutely gorgeous.

You blink up at her and she asks, ‘How long have you been like this?’

It’s hard to think but you make an effort to do so.

‘Since two this afternoon?’

Lea’s eyes widen and she curses under her breath in her native language.

‘You’ve been like this for practically four hours?’

You make a poor attempt at shrugging, ‘Did you...?’

The striker snaps back into focus, ‘Course.’

She reaches into her jacket pocket and there in her hand, is a very precious bottle of prescription medication.

‘Two right?’ She asks even though she is already shaking the correct dosage out onto her palm.

You simply nod, struck speechless by the fact that she remembers.

The blonde makes sure you are sitting up and then carefully holds out your pills, along with the half drunk glass of water from your nightstand.

Staying upright just long enough to accept the medicine and swallow it with a mouthful of water, you soon lay back down amongst your pillows.

‘Thank you Lea.’ You hoarsely whisper.

‘You’re welcome.’ She says, with an expression you can’t quite place.

The pain in your head pulses but you know that is not the reason why you can’t read her because if you are being honest, she’s always been somewhat of a mystery to you.

Breathing in once, twice and then thrice, you realise that contrary to your earlier expectations, the German woman is not turning to leave right away.

‘I’m really sorry to have bothered you. I hope your game goes well tomorrow.’ You offer eventually.

Lea just keeps looking at you with that same indiscernible gaze.

After a long minute, she replies, ‘Thanks and it’s fine. We were doing my least favourite core workouts anyway.’

The striker glances down at her phone, obviously taking note of the time before she adds, ‘I should be getting back though. Obi can only cover for me for so long.’

‘Right. Sorry again to have pulled you away.’

Still, your ex doesn’t make any move to leave.

Instead, she twists the ring on her index finger around a few times and then says, ‘I’ll come back after the session to check on you. It shouldn’t take more than two hours.’

Your mouth drops open in shock.

‘You don’t need…It’s okay. Once the meds kick in, I’ll be alright. You know that.’

After all, this is not your first migraine that Lea’s experienced. When you were still together, she would put your head in her lap and run her fingers through your hair. It was soothing and calming and the tiny featherlight kisses she used to press to your forehead never failed to make you feel better.

But that was the past and well…you can hardly ask her to do that now.

‘No I do know. It’s just that…you look like shit.’

Lea’s words are blunt and she folds her arms across her chest, blue eyes seeming rather challenging as she continues, ‘You’re going to need actual food coming off this migraine and I’d bet you don’t have anything of the sort lying around here.’

You frown, thinking of the instant noodles that make up your pantry.

It’s the only answer your former girlfriend needs because she repeats more or less of what she’d verbalised earlier, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

‘I’ll be back in less than two hours. In the meantime, try to sleep.’

Then she’s gone. Disappearing just as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Too exhausted to try and figure her and what the fuck has just happened out, you bury your head under a pillow to block it all out.

You know the drill now. To get through a bad migraine, you need to stay very very still. Any movement would do you no good.

Count to a hundred, breathing in and out all the while. Reach five hundred, reset your counting and keep taking in deep breaths.

It takes another hour but slowly, the Eletriptan begins to work. Little by little, the headache recedes till you’re able to slip into a fitful sleep at last.

******

When you wake, your room is much darker than it was earlier. Not even the tiniest hint of sunlight peeks through your blinds.

After a few minutes, you decide that the pounding in your head has subsided enough movement to become feasible once more.

Sitting up warily, you catch sight of the time displayed on your alarm clock.

Abruptly, you remember that Lea has said she was coming back.

Wide awake now, you stop only to throw on a hoodie before opening your bedroom door. Someone is definitely here, you can see that your kitchen light is on.

Before you even get halfway down the hall, you smell something amazing…and familiar.

At the doorway to your kitchen, you pause just to look at Lea for a long moment.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if your migraine had been so bad that you are coming up with new symptoms like hallucinations.

Then you dismiss the thought because food has never smelt so good. Not even in your wildest dreams.

She’s standing with her back to you, stirring a pot of what must be stew, made from her mother’s recipe.

She used to make that for you when you’d had a long day. The ensuing rush of nostalgia has you bracing a hand against the wooden frame of the door.

Your former girlfriend hasn’t physically changed much in the five months you have been apart, bar the new tattoo on her arm. Dressed in Bayern’s signature red training outfit and with her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, she’s still all lean muscle, as tall and terribly attractive as she’s always been.

Now that your migraine has dulled, you are better able to appreciate exactly how stunning she is.

You watch her biceps flex as she begins to cut up some greens.

It was those well built arms that you had first fallen in love with. Not because of how fine a figure it gave her but because of how safe you had felt when she’d held you in them.

That’s all irrelevant now, swept to the side due to a more pressing issue. The one that is Lea Schüller standing in your kitchen.

Opening and closing your mouth, you manage to stutter out, ‘W-What are you doing?’

To her credit, the blonde doesn’t flinch.

Her voice is soft but sure when she answers without turning around, ‘Making dinner.’

‘I can see that…but why?’

‘Because you always feel like crap when you don’t have proper food coming off one of your migraines. The one you were having looked especially bad too.’

Two thoughts occur simultaneously. One, is Lea taking care of you? Two, what does this mean?

Detaching yourself from the kitchen doorway, you try to play off the way your heart rate is speeding up. Your head is spinning again, this time because of confusion instead of the headache.

‘You could have just dropped off takeout.’

Now, Lea deigns to look at you, stopping her cooking. Her eyes stay on you as she searches for something you don’t know.

She’s seemingly satisfied after a moment.

‘But I didn't, so here I am.’ She says evenly.

You don’t know how to answer that so you close the remaining distance to your little breakfast counter and take a seat there.

The German woman resumes her cooking and you find yourself questioning her ability to look so composed. How is she looking so at ease here, cooking stew in your kitchen, looking for all the world like the past five months hadn’t happened? Like you two had never broken up?

Neither of you speak again till dinner is ready.

You fetch bowls and spoons from your cupboard, Lea serves both portions.

Setting your bowl in front of you, the Bayern player sits down across from you for the first time in- well, five months.

Then she looks up, blue eyes that are as clear as crystals, meeting yours.

‘Lea…what are you really doing here?’ You barely audibly murmur.

The striker sighs, pushing her bowl away from her and leaning back into her seat.

‘The truth?’

After a long drawn out silence in which she runs her thumb along the handle of her spoon, a restless gesture of hers and you resist the urge to reach across the tabletop to soothe it, Lea admits, ‘I missed you.’

You let her words sink in, trying to work out how you feel about them. Lea had missed you. That means something doesn’t it? Do you want that to mean something?

The answer to that, is so obvious that you can’t lie to yourself. Of course you want it to mean something. You’ve missed Lea like crazy. Every single day since the split.

Your former girlfriend sets her spoon down, gaze downcast as she mumbles, ‘I should leave.’

‘No!’ You start to shake your head, then gasp at the pain that flares up when you do.

Massaging the sides of your temple, you say, ‘Please don’t go. Lea, I-I missed you too.’

A quiet puff of air leaves the blonde, ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d…moved on.’

‘From you?’ Your laugh comes out a touch bitter.

‘I didn’t. I couldn’t.’

Then a thought strikes you and you glance at the German woman furtively, ‘Did you move on?’

Lea blinks as if she had not expected you to ask.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’

Part of you wants to say, ‘Well…for five, nearly six months, you weren’t.’

The Bayern Munich player must sense it because she softens, ‘No. There hasn’t been anyone since. You’re…you. I don’t think there is any getting over you.’

You didn’t know how much you’d been afraid of a different answer till Lea said that. Actually, afraid doesn’t quite cover it, terrified would be a better description.

Relief courses through you so powerfully that you feel lightheaded with the intensity of it.

With how heavy the air is now, you force yourself to pick up your spoon and start on the stew. The last thing you need is to do something stupid like tell Lea you’re still head over heels in love with her.

The blonde takes the cue that you’re done talking for now and the only sound in the room is the clinking of spoons against the bowls.

As expected, the stew is delicious. It had always been your favourite even though Lea never made a meal that you didn’t like.

Like she knows you are thinking about her, the German woman glances up from her bowl, catching your eye and then smiling.

It’s a soft, gentle smile. Reminiscent of old times. Lea making you both dinner, Lea taking care of you after one of your migraines, Lea just being…there. Just constantly there, by your side and looking at you like she never wants to be anywhere else.

You wonder if this is going somewhere. Is this an olive branch or just closure?

Before you know it, your spoon is scraping the bottom of your bowl. The warmth and saltiness of the stew have done wonders and you feel much better.

Lea can see it too because she says, ‘There’s more in the pot if you’d like.’

With a small noise of thanks, you fill up your bowl with a second helping.

Sitting back down, you stir the stew around for a moment and watch the steam rise.

Tentatively, you ask, ‘How’s the football going?’

‘It’s good. The team is doing good. How’s university?’

‘Same. I’m just starting to look for job openings for after my graduation.’

Lea fiddles with her ring, ‘Are you still thinking about teaching?’

‘That’s lovely. It’ll suit you.’

‘I’m pretty sure I want to teach kindergarten.’ You elaborate.

The blonde nods, ‘That suits you too.’

You two fall silent again.

Biting your lip, you try to come up with something to say. It’s strange, almost sad how awkward things feel now. Once upon a time, you had been so comfortable with each other. You’d been open with Lea in ways you never had been with anyone else. It was mutual.

Have things changed so much? Is it possible for a way back?

‘Lea?’

‘Yes?’

‘I just…’ You stop messing around with your food, forcing yourself to look at her properly.

‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I said. The last time we saw each other, I said a lot of cruel and awful things that I shouldn’t have. I did not mean them and I’m really sorry.’

Lea puts her spoon down, ‘I’m sorry too. You weren’t the only one who said things she didn’t mean.’

Her words are genuine, you can see it in the bright blue of her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you blurt out, ‘I still love you Lea. I wish we’d never broken up.’

Surprise colours Lea’s pretty features.

‘I wish we’d never broken up either. There’s not been a day where I stopped loving you.’

‘Oh.’ You breathe.

The forward goes on, ‘Letting things end after our argument was a mistake. A huge mistake, mostly on my part. I wanted to call. I should have called.’

‘I’m not blameless…I wanted to call too but you were so angry. I-I thought you didn’t want me to call. I thought that you’d never want to hear from me again.’

Lea rests her elbows on the table, leaning closer to you. Your heart begins to beat more quickly, you’re certain you aren’t misreading the flicker of hope in her expression.

Swallowing hard, the German woman murmurs, ‘You called today.’

‘I did. You dropped everything to come over. Made me dinner too.’

Blushing lightly, Lea murmurs, ‘I was sort of trying to make a grand gesture.’

You smile, ‘It worked.’

Lea begins to grin, ‘It did?’

Almost like she can’t help herself she asks, ‘Do you think…Can we give us another try?’

A hundred things rush through your mind. Happiness and relief blooms in your chest.

Eagerly, you say, ‘I’d like that.’

Lea’s smile begins to take on a giddy edge and she reaches an open hand out across the table.

You take it without a split second’s hesitation.

Lea closes her fingers around yours, gaze alight with affection and pure contentment. It is a look you’d never thought you’d see again and it fills you with a sunshine like warmth.

‘Finish eating my love.’ She finally says, gently letting go of your hand.

The term of endearment causes a tingle of joy to spread through you. Enough so that you don’t stop smiling for the rest of the meal.

When you’re both done, Lea washes and you dry. She flicks some soapy water at you, her giggles filling the space.

You’d missed it. You’d missed her. You tell her so and she pulls you into her arms.

Her chin rests on your shoulder and she whispers, ‘I missed you every single second of every fucking day.’

You breathe in her smell, taking comfort in it and the safety of her arms once again.

‘Let’s never do that again.’

‘Deal.’ Lea promises.

Then she seals it with a kiss and oh my…you’d forgotten what it was like to be in heaven.

Lea’s lips are incredibly soft, the kiss slow and sweet. It’s everything and more, better than you’d remembered.

When you both part, there’s a single tear making its way down your cheek.

In a tender gesture, Lea wipes it off with the pad of her thumb.

A small relieved laugh escapes her, ‘I think we’re going to be okay.’

You pull her even closer, mouth quirking upwards against your lover’s lips because you know now that you’re never going to let her go again. This is going to work, you’d do your damndest to make sure of it.

‘I think we’re going to be more than okay.’

#lea schüller #lea schüller x reader #lea schüller imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #fcb frauen x reader #gerwnt x reader #dfb frauen x reader #katelynnwrites

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samoschier · 1 month ago

Text

✧˖*°࿐ 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄

series masterlist

—𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎. now go stand in the corner (and think about what you did)

𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐚, 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐝𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡

Trying to deal with the aftermath of your boyfriend cheating on you with your best friend is hard... But it becomes a little easier when the perfect opportunity for revenge suddenly presents itself.

You were done crying over Luke Hughes. Too many tears had been shed the night you broke up, and you refused to shed anymore— even when he was glued to the side of some girl you had never seen before, barely a month after your relationship ended.

It felt impossible to stop staring at the picture. Jack was the one that posted it, Luke wouldn’t dare, not when you still followed him. Or maybe he would, everything you thought you knew about the kind of person he was had been thrown out the window weeks ago.

Jack probably didn’t even realize that Luke was in the background, sitting next to some blonde girl with his arm thrown around her. She’s halfway into his lap and you hold back the urge to scoff.

“Okay, no.” Your phone is promptly snatched from your hand, and before you can react, your best friend has quickly turned it off and slid the phone into her pocket, just out of arm's reach.

“Chelsea—” you sigh, exasperated.

“Absolutely not.” She stares you down with a look that’s eerily similar to that of a mother’s. “I will not allow you to stare at this picture and wallow in self pity while Luke Hughes is out there sticking his dick into anything that moves.”

“Don’t say his name.” You sink further into your bed, pulling up the hood of your too-big hoodie that had been stolen from your brother’s closet long ago.

“I can’t believe you still follow him, and his brothers.” Chelsea shakes her head, speaking up again before you have a chance to defend yourself. “He’s lucky I haven’t strangled him already, especially after what he did.”

The reason behind your break up still lingers, and no matter how much you wish you could forget about it, you seem to be reminded of it at every corner. At least it was summer, and you wouldn't be subjected to seeing Luke Hughes every time you walked around campus.

Your eyes drift over to the cluster of pictures that decorates the space above your desk. There are noticeable gaps, empty squares of white that stick out like a sore thumb against the colorful collage.

There had been photos there, ones of you and the girl that was supposed to be your best friend since kindergarten, ones of you and Luke throughout your relationship, until you ripped them down with tears in your eyes.

Even now it was still hard to believe that she could do that to you, that they could do that to you. It makes your body heave with exhaustion. You were so tired of feeling like this, so tired of the ache that ran rampant across your heart.

So tired of being the only one heartbroken meanwhile Luke was off in New Jersey with his brother having what seemed to be the time of his life.

The sound of running water from the bathroom stopped, and you could hear as Luke stepped out of the shower. Right as he did, a ding! From his phone caught your attention.

“Luke!” You called out, “you got a text.”

“Will you read it for me?” He asked, voice muffled from behind the door.

Without responding, you lean over from your spot on his bed, reaching for his phone that’s face down against the nightstand. The screen lights up as you turn it over. The name that pops up on the screen makes you furrow your brows. Why was she texting Luke?

You type his password in before clicking on the message. Your face drops, and you can feel your heart beating so loudly in your chest that you can’t hear Luke call out your name from behind the bathroom door.

It doesn’t register in your head the first time you read it, you have to read it a second time, and even then it's hard to believe what the words on the screen say.

“I know we’ve already talked about this and you don’t want to tell her but she deserves to know. I know you said that you guys were on a break, but it never should’ve happened. We never should’ve slept together and I feel horrible about it. So either tell her about it or I will.”

When Luke calls out your name for a second time, you hear it. He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

He scrunches his face in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t say anything, can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you stand up, phone in hand before shoving it into his chest. He stumbles, clearly taken aback by it.

Luke’s brows furrow before taking a look at what’s on his phone that has you so upset. His face drops, and then the yelling starts.

“You don’t unders—”

“I swear to God, Luke, if you try and come up with an excuse right now I’m going to slap the shit out of you.” Your jaw clenched, a futile attempt to hold back the tears that are beginning to well up and blur your vision ever so slightly.

You can’t even look at him, can’t stand the pleading look in his eyes. Though, it’s hard to tell whether he actually feels guilty about it, or if he’s just sorry he got caught. Everything you thought you knew about the kind of person he was feels different now.

“Just let me explain.”

Tears are falling down your cheeks at this point, but even now you can’t help but scoff. “Explain? Explain what?”

“How you fucked my best friend— a girl I’ve known since we were kids, and didn’t even have the decency to tell me.” The way Luke lowers his head, casting his eyes downward in shame does nothing but set you off. “Explain how I had to find out through a text?”

“Were you even going to tell me?

The question is followed by silence, which is an answer in itself. Luke won’t look at you, even though he’s the one who did it. He’s the one that made that decision, and he won’t even take accountability for it.

“When did it happen?” You ask, and it makes Luke look up at you, face scrunched in confusion, like he couldn’t possibly understand why you would want to know the details of him sleeping with another girl.

It takes him a moment to gather his words. “Uh, it was over spring break, when I was in New Jersey.”

The room goes silent as you process what he’s told you. Your voice cracks when you finally speak up again. “This happened almost two months ago?”

Luke takes a moment to respond. “We were on a break, I didn’t think it was worth mention—”

You attempt a scoff. “Just because we were on a break doesn‘t give you the right to sleep with someone else, and the fact that you didn’t think it was worth mentioning is… astounding.”

You search his face for any sign of guilt, and if it’s there you can’t seem to find it. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t apologize, doesn’t beg for forgiveness, just stands and stares at you, like this whole situation is just an inconvenience for him.

The sudden urge to leave washes over you, unable to look at Luke any longer. Before you know it, you’re grabbing all of your things, but Luke is quick to try and stop you.

“Come on, don’t leave, can’t we just—” he goes to grab your arm, but you yank yourself out of his grasp, tears still streaming down your face.

“No, Luke! We can’t do anything about this, there’s no coming back from sleeping with my best friend.” Your tone is accusatory, and you can’t bring yourself to stand there any longer, not caring about anything else that could possibly come from Luke Hughes’s mouth. You’re almost to the door when you realize that there’s one more thing you want to get off your chest.

“I would’ve never done this to you.”

That was the last time you’d seen him. You’d gone straight home that night, letting Chelsea comfort you while you cried yourself to sleep. Luke brought your stuff over a few days later, per Chelsea’s request.

You refused to talk to him, even after he blew your phone up with messages, though none of them were an apology. He tried to talk Chelsea into letting him into your apartment so he could talk to you, but she was quick to slam the door in his face.

When Hailey texted you, however, you were torn. Explaining that she was upset with how you found out and that it shouldn’t have been that way. Apologizing that it ever happened in the first place. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

Which brings you to now, coping with the aftermath that comes from no longer having a boyfriend or a best friend in your life.

It’s two weeks before the start of your junior year, and you’re sitting on the couch watching a movie with Chelsea when you get a text. It makes you furrow your brows and you nudge Chelsea with your elbow, angling your phone so she can look at the screen.

She turns to you with a puzzled expression. “Why is Mark Estapa texting you?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I know they’re already back at school, so he must've just told them we broke up. I don’t know why Mark would be texting me about it though.”

Right as you finish your sentence, another text from him comes through, one that makes your eyebrows shoot to the sky.

Hey, sorry to hear about you and Luke.

Feel free to hit me up if you ever need anything.

The two of you turn to look at each other, Chelsea with a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh. No words are able to come out of your mouth when she takes your phone from you. She reads the text over again.

“Feel free to hit me up if you ever need anything?” Her mouth is agape, rereading the text once again like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Chelsea laughs. “Oh, he wants you.”

You roll your eyes, reaching up to try and take your phone back but she holds it just out of reach. “No, he does not. He’s just being nice.”

Chelsea gives you a look. “No guy texts his homeboy’s ex after they break up just to be nice.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up, shaking your head at the girl, but the fun quickly ends when you realize she’s typing something. “Chelsea, what are you doing?”

She smirks and by the time you finally snatch your phone back to see what she’s doing, a text back has already been sent. Your jaw drops when you read what she’s written.

“I appreciate that, maybe I will, winky-face.” Your eyes went round, just completely astounded. You groaned. “Chelsea, he’s already seen it, what am I gonna do?”

“Well,” she starts, and you already know you’re not going to like what she has to say. “You could just fuck him.”

You swear your head has never whipped around so fast. “Chelsea!”

“What?” She laughs, shrugging her shoulders as if what she just said wasn’t at all out of pocket. “Come on, think about it. It’s like, the perfect way to get back at that dick.”

You sink further into the couch, glancing up to stare at your friend. “How is sleeping with one of his friends going to make this any better?”

Chelsea grins. “You wouldn’t be sleeping with just his friend, Mark’s like one of his best friends. They literally live together, could you imagine the look on Luke’s face if he saw you there with Mark?”

You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for her to keep going, but suddenly an expression crosses her face. You squinted at Chelsea, not liking the way her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I have an idea.”

“No.”

She promptly ignores you, adjusting her seat on the couch so she’s cross legged and facing you completely. “What if you got with all of them?”

You blinked. “All of who?”

“Luke’s friends.”

An incredulous look crosses your face. “Do you know how many friends Luke has?”

Chelsea lets out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t mean like every single one of his friends, just the ones he’s really close with. You know, like Mark and the rest of their group. It would be the perfect way to get revenge.”

Suddenly, you realize exactly who she means. “They’re not going to get with their best friend’s ex-girlfriend, they wouldn’t do that to him.”

“Mark would.” Chelsea smirked. When you didn’t immediately speak up to disagree she kept going.

You open your mouth to speak up, but promptly close it, letting Chelsea continue her ramble. She did have a point, but you were still unsure. Doing this just kind of felt exactly what he did to you, and you meant what you said; that you would’ve never done that to him. You understood that the circumstances were different, of course, you and Luke were no longer together so it wasn’t exactly what he did to you.

You went back and forth in a mental debate before finally shaking your head. “I don’t think so, Chelsea. I just… at this point the last thing I want to think about is Luke. All I want to do is move on from this whole thing.”

Chelsea sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “Okay. If that’s what you want, then I won’t bring it up again.”

Reaching over, you grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you.”

As promised, she didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the night, and by the time you woke up in the morning, you’d almost forgotten all about it. It was around midday, though, when you found yourself scrolling on Instagram that you saw it.

You shoot straight up, elbows no longer resting on the counter top like they were previously, and for the first time since the break up you find yourself angry, rather than upset. You screenshot the picture and zoom in, making sure you’re not just seeing things.

You’re not.

You scoff, it’s a picture of Luke and some girl, his arm around her shoulders, but that’s not what has you upset. It's what she’s wearing, a necklace around her neck that’s yours. The one you were so upset about when you couldn’t find it because it meant so much to you.

You send the screenshot to Chelsea, typing out a message to go with it.

I take back what I said.

I want to get revenge.

— hope you guys enjoyed the intro, and if you did then there’s more where that came from

— i don’t have a set schedule for when i’m going to be updating, i am a college student so i’m pretty busy but i will try and get chapters out as quick as i can

— with that being said, remember my inbox is always open, feel free to ask me any thing you want to about the series (i’ll try and answer without spoiling anything as best i can) or if you just want to chat that’s okay too :)

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adviceformefromme · 2 years ago

Text

YOUR RE-SET

So your life isn’t looking and feeling how you envisioned. You see the TikTok and IG girlies living that life. You dream about luxury travel, pilates on a Saturday morning, drinking overpriced green smoothies, driving a sexy car, and living your fullest most authentic life…But in comparison, you’ve grown to mostly hate spending time with your friends, you’ve out grown them and notice how much they complain about life and generally are low vibes, you’ve spent all of this months wages already, and still have 2 weeks left until payday so your bank balance is no way supporting the life you dream of, to add, your dating life is a mess not consisting of your dream guy that provides for you. No, instead it seems too much effort for him to message back, let alone take you to that sexy spa you’re dying to visit. So in short your life is a far cry from what you want. The life you’ve created right now is absolutely not what you would want for yourself for the next year, or even five years. So in order to completely shift from where you are to where you want to be. You need a fucking RE-SET.

The re-set is basically your metamorphosis. Think of being the caterpillar, heavy, slow sluggish (currently you right now). In order to become a beautiful butterfly you need to completely transform, undo, take time to reorganise so you can re-emerge as nature intended.

The Re-set might look slightly different for everyone so take what you need from this:

2-3 months stepping back from the people around you.

THE CORE ESSENTIALS FOR YOUR RESET - A DAILY PRACTISE

Meditating daily to clear you mind so you can hear yourself, your own voice and drown out any external noise. (I recommend insight timer app, or mind app both for meditations)

A journal, to document your feelings and emotions, empty your thoughts, and a space where you can become your own best friend and create a connection with yourself.

Movement. - you need to move your body this is KEY, you might pick up running, stretching at home, pilates, yoga, HIT, whatever it is just fucking do it. Your body needs the movement to replenish its energy and move you out of stagnation.

Healthy diet. Less alcohol more greens. If it’s processed, if its fizzy, if its sugar, if its cake, if its chocolate, if its ice cream (you get the picture), cut that shit OUT. You need food that supports you, cleanses you, energises you in order to thrive and clear your energy.

FAITH in something bigger than yourself. If you’re religious, great lean into your faith with prayer, scripture, faith music. If you’re not religious maybe you believe in the universe, the love all around you, faith in something unknown, something guiding you, protecting you, even if you believe this is part of your own psyche - lean into this. Your faith is your support system. Your faith is the unseen that will guide and protect you on this journey.

The above might seem overwhelming, and it will be if you don’t already incorporate those things into your day already. The worst thing you want to do is try and do everything at once and feel disappointed when you don’t succeed. So start with one thing if that’s all you can manage and focus on doing that one thing consistently and then add from that.

The purpose of the first 2-3 months is the cleansing. You want to start slowly removing what doesn’t serve you, and start creating space for yourself, your thoughts and visions so you have space to start planting new seeds of the life you want to live.

What your first steps in your journey might look like:

Saying no to going out for drinks with friends, instead you go for a long walks in nature listening to an empowering podcast, go home journal and meditate.

Weekends might look like not seeing friends, maybe even family. Doing exercise, making healthy food, researching recipes, creating a vision board on Pinterest and doing a guiding meditation, affirmations and mirror work.

Having a prayer practise, reading books/ passages that support you in your journey

Deleting your social medias or even doing a detox day / weekend so you have a break

PART 2 - COMING NEXT….(Here)

#levelup #lawofattraction #levelupjourney #manifestyourreality #levelup confidence lawofattraction powerofthemind #growthmindset #manifest #manifestingmindset #manifesting

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kirlicues · 1 month ago

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Main Street Shops | CC-Free Sims 2 Lot | Create-a-town

This row of 5 cheery storefronts is the first in a little series of community lots to give your small towns some character. The thing that sets these lots apart from other user-created lots you can put in your game is that they were designed for decorators!

I’ve heard from several people in the community that you enjoy how relaxing decorating can be, but coming up with the building shape is another story.

I prefer building as it’s a lot like playing with Legos was when I was a child (back when square and rectangular blocks where pretty much the only options). 😄 Sure, I don’t mind slapping a few basic pieces of furniture into a house, but spending hours painstakingly decorating is something I just don’t have time for. 😅

This is where you come in!

The lots in this series are mostly empty. The first floors are lightly decorated, but the second floors in this lot and in the lots to come are pretty sparse or completely empty. This was done on purpose to give you the freedom to customize the shops as you see fit.

It’s Win-win for both of us!

These shops also make nice decorative lots if you just want to add some visual character to your neighborhood, as I mentioned earlier. (If you do this though, be sure to remove all of the bathroom stalls as those seem to show through walls in neighborhood views).

Since it’s a little difficult to really see what you’re getting in this lot with the over-view pictures I’ll share some shots of each individual shop. They are all built on one lot as my skills with the Lot Adjuster are completely absent.

I’ve included some titles for the buildings, but these are only suggestions. Change things up as you’d like.

Tear out what I’ve put in and create something new. Slap a new coat of paint on the exterior, change the landscaping and you could reuse the same basic lot shapes over and over.

Restaurant with outdoor dining:

Clothing Boutique:

Cake Shop:

Electronics Store:

Bookstore:

Remember, you can change these up and turn them into whatever you want.

Here are the floorplans:

1st floor:

2nd floor:

There’s even a basement with storage rooms on this lot, since that is a feature in some older buildings! Ideally, each shop would have stairs going to the basement, but given the limited space on the lot I’ve only put one set of stairs.

Main Street Shops: MF | SFS

CC-Free, but all EPs and SPs are required.

I’ve run this lot through the Lot Compressor so any random references to sims that aren’t there should be removed. I have also run it through the Lot Cleaner to remove any bits of buggy code. This lot comes with a shiny custom thumbnail so it has even more curb appeal in your Lots and Houses bin! 😄

I ALWAYS recommend using the Sims 2 Pack Clean installer to install lot files.

Here are some more lots like this one: Across the Street The Next Street Over Around the Corner Further Down the Street At the Office Small Shopping Center

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golden-cherry · 1 year ago

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deal - cl16 (26/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Burning things is a good way to get rid of stuff. But perhaps you and Charles have more in common than you like.

Warnings: this is quite angsty (mentions of cheating, Annika and Raphael), fire (of course), some fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: this is a long one. but well, I felt like it. there are some Easter eggs in this chapter, tell me which one you found! feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

Since your newly purchased items have not made it any further into the apartment than the hallway, Charles' bedroom looks pretty empty. There are three large boxes next to the door, which gradually fill up the longer you stay in the room.

"What about this?" you ask Charles and show him a pink candlestick that was recently on the windowsill.

Your roommate pulls his head out of the closet. "Throw it away."

"Okay." You try not to trip over anything as you walk over to the door and place the item in the left box, which already contains a vase and empty picture frames. As you straighten up again, a shirt flies past your face before landing in the right box.

"Sorry," Charles mumbles, without taking his eyes off the clothes in front of him.

"It's all right." You glance at the chest of drawers against the wall. "What about this?" you ask, pointing to the few books arranged by size on the dark wood.

Charles sighs. "Just assume you can throw away everything in this room." Another item lands in the box on the right.

Unsure, you bite the inside of your cheek.

The idea was to get all the stuff Annika left in the bedroom out of the apartment and - if possible - burn it in Jori's fire bowl, in the hope that Charles can have closure. The box on the left is for things that can't easily be turned into ashes, such as picture frames, candlesticks or small, empty flower pots. The middle one is for things Annika couldn't pack in her haste, like jewelry, clothes, electronics. She would come to collect them at some point.

The box on the right is for flammable things. The pictures from photo frames, books, tickets from events the couple attended together - and the clothes Charles throws in. And it looks like they're his.

"Can I ask why you're throwing away your clothes?" you ask timidly as you sit down on the bed. You run your fingers over the soft fabric, which will also end up in the right-hand box later.

Charles pushes some empty hangers aside before taking a jacket off the hanger. "Everything in this room is from when Annika and I were a couple." He shows you the jacket. "I was wearing this the first time we went to the racetrack together. Our first public appearance as a couple." He throws the jacket towards the door before grabbing the next item - a sweater. "I wore this one on the first Valentine's Day. We went out for dinner and then to the movies."

You purse your lips. "And you want to get rid of all these memories? Even if they are nice ones?"

The sweater lands on the jacket before Charles turns to you and looks at you for the first time since you walked into this room. "That woman cheated on me. Took advantage of my trust and broke it." His gaze is rock hard. "Whoever she was to me, she doesn't deserve to have her memories here. I want to put it all behind me. I want to be free."

You see a sad glint in his eyes, which you don't address. Instead, you get up from the bed and begin to sort out everything that's still lying around into the boxes, while Charles pulls one item of clothing after another out of the closet.

Apart from a little rustling and your footsteps, the room is silent. You want to give Charles his space, give him the peace and quiet he needs to sort out his thoughts and really come to terms with the relationship. The fact that he has asked you to help him with this warms your heart. Because even though you've only known each other for a short time, he's the person you care most about. The person you would run to immediately if your life went down the drain. The person you can tell everything to without being judged.

You seem to be that person for Charles too - the person he can trust without having to worry, the person who would help him bury a body - this feeling warms you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet.

"I think that's it," Charles finally interrupts the silence and closes the now empty closet behind him while you remove the cover from one of the two pillows. His gaze wanders from your face to your hands. "You don't need to do that. We'll put the bedding in a big bag and then it can all go."

"Are you sure?" you ask uncertainly, but put the pillow back on the bed.

"Very sure. I don't want to sleep in a bed she slept in or cover myself with a blanket she slept under. I just want to put it behind me."

"Okay." You walk around the bed and put in the clothes that missed the box. "Which car do we take? My Renault is still at the old place and your Ferrari won't fit the stuff." Besides, it would be too conspicuous and you don't want us to be seen in it together.

"There's an old car of my brother's downstairs in the garage. It's bigger than the Ferrari," he calls out from the hallway, where he's rummaging around in one of the cupboards before entering the bedroom again. In his hand he holds a huge blue plastic bag from a Swedish furniture store. "If that's not enough, I've got another one."

It's not enough. The bedding actually has to be divided into three different bags until the bed is empty except for the mattress. As Charles stands at the front door, one bag on each shoulder and a box - containing the last bag - in his hands, he peeks past it. "Can you open the door for me, please? I'd like to take the things downstairs."

As packed as he is, you have to stifle a grin. The Monegasque looks like a pack mule. "You can walk several times, you know that? Then you won't be straining your shoulders."

Your flatmate blows a strand of hair out of his forehead. "No way. I'd rather fall down the stairs before I have to walk twice."

As you open the door and press the elevator button for him, you just shake your head. "Then it's a good thing there's an elevator here. You'll still have to go a second time."

While Charles takes the things to the underground garage, you put the other two boxes by the front door before you go in search of another large bag. As Charles has already used all the available bags from the hall cupboard, you have no choice but to take a bin liner from the kitchen. As you hear him grab the second box, you poke your head out of the kitchen.

"I'll bring the other box in a minute. You can wait downstairs by the car, okay?"

"All right," he replies and puts the box on his hip. "It shouldn't be that heavy. It's just the picture frames and stuff in there." He smiles at you. "See you in a bit then. But hurry up."

You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh before he disappears with the box in his hands. When you're alone, you walk from the kitchen into the living room, where the red roses that Charles must have forgotten are still on the white piano. You carefully put them in the bag, taking care not to tear the thin plastic, and then tie it up before dragging the bin bag into the hallway and putting it in the box.

The roses make the box much heavier than expected and when you arrive a few minutes later, panting, in the underground parking garage where Charles is already waiting to meet you, you are glad when he takes it off your hands.

"What's in there?" he asks, pointing to the bag after placing the box in the trunk of the silver car.

You shrug your shoulders. "I found this. We can burn it if you like," you simply reply and drop into the passenger seat while Charles closes the trunk.

The drive to Joris is shorter than expected and although it's not too late, the sky is already turning red, as if the sun is about to set. There's some song on the radio that you don't know and Charles isn't humming along to. As he finally steers the car through the familiar narrow alley and then pulls on the handbrake in a parking lot, the front door opens and Joris enters the courtyard.

"Hello, you two," he greets you as you get out of the car. While he shakes Charles' hand, he presses a kiss to your cheek, first on the left and then on the right. "You said on the phone that you wanted to burn something?" He rubs his hands together excitedly.

Your roommate nods and opens the trunk. "Not only that." He takes one of the boxes - the one with Annika's belongings - and hands it to his buddy. "I'd like to leave them here, if that's possible. I don't want to see Annika again and I'd be incredibly grateful if you could give her her things back."

"Of course," he replies and takes a look in the trunk. "What about this?" With a nod, he points to the box with the picture frames.

"This," Charles begins the sentence before grabbing the box and walking over to one of the garbage containers that must belong to Jori's house. Without giving it much thought, he dumps the contents into the garbage can before rejoining you to take the three bags of bedding and throwing them into the container as well. "'Is garbage. We'd like to burn the rest that's left there."

"The firewood and fuel are already ready."

The boys carry the things upstairs and you follow them. When you arrive at Jori's apartment, you close the door behind you while Joris puts the box with Annika's things in a room and Charles walks towards the rooftop terrace. You open the door for him and he smiles gently at you as he walks past you towards the fire bowl, which already has some wood in it.

A little later, Joris joins you, a small canister of gasoline in his hand. "You'll need this. Please don't burn yourselves. I've got a quick online meeting coming up and no time to drive you to the hospital."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate that," says Charles as he takes the burning liquid from his buddy's hand. As Joris disappears, Charles pulls an outdoor couch sitting in a corner near the fire bowl. "In case it takes longer. Then we don't have to stand the whole time."

While Charles lights the wood, you take the garbage bag with the roses out of the box and put it next to the couch. "Would you like something to drink?"

Charles looks up from the small flame snaking around one of the logs. "There should be cans of Coke in the fridge. And there should be some sweets in the cupboard in the living room." When you look at him in astonishment, he grins. "Go ahead and help yourself. Joris has already eaten my entire fridge once when he was drunk."

"Okay." You leave him alone on the roof terrace and go searching. You actually find the cans in the fridge, two of which you take and put on the living room table so you can rummage through the cupboard for something sweet. You find fruit gums, some chocolate - which you probably shouldn't bring anywhere near a fire - and a bucket of popcorn, which you tuck under your arm.

When you return to Charles with your hands full, he laughs.

"What?" you ask, confused, as he takes the bucket from you. "You told me to help myself. And that's what I did."

"That's right." He motions for you to sit down on the sofa. As he sits down next to you, he nudges his knee against yours. He opens his can of Coke and you do the same. "Here's to the future." He holds his can out to you.

You clink glasses with him. "To the future."

After a few minutes, the fire burns brightly and warms you on this beautiful winter evening and Charles pokes around in the wood with a poker, which apparently belongs to the fire bowl, before grabbing the box and placing it between you on the couch. The fact that there's this physical distance between you both bothers you more than it should.

"Two years for nothing," Charles says as he pulls out the first picture. It shows him and Annika lying on the beach and smiling at the camera. He throws it into the fire. "For nothing, for absolutely nothing."

"Don't say that." You watch as the flames engulf the photo. "You learn from relationships. No matter how long they last."

He throws a piece of paper into the bowl. It looks like a concert ticket. "And what have I learned? How to be cheated on without realizing it? I definitely didn't need to learn that." His tone is cold.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. When you take your eyes off the fire and look at him, his features are soft. He looks hurt. You purse your lips. "How did you find out?"

"I caught them." As you stare at him open-mouthed, he shrugs. " I was actually planning on flying from race to race, but my gut told me to fly back home." He has to swallow. "When I walked through the front door, there were already shoes there that weren't mine. And when I walked towards the bedroom, I heard them."

You raise an eyebrow. "They were doing it in your bed?" No wonder he doesn't want to keep the bedding or the bed.

He nods weakly and throws one of his shirts into the fire. "I knew exactly what was behind the door and yet it broke my heart when I actually saw it. It wasn't much, but enough to know that it could never have been that 'it's not what it looks like' thing."

You hand him two plane tickets, which he throws away without looking at them. "And then?"

"She wanted to talk to me, begged me to stay with her and said how sorry she was. But I didn't want to hear any of it. I just turned around and left. I couldn't look her in the eye."

"I can understand that," you answer him quietly.

"I think if I had really loved her the way you do in relationships, I would have thrown her out of the apartment straight away. But when I left and created distance between us, I racked my brains as to why she did that. And it was all over the internet that a lot of people do it because they feel neglected by their partner and are looking for closeness with someone else."

"And that's why you felt so bad that you allowed her to continue living there?" He nods. Another couple of photos land in the flames and catch fire. "Did you know the man?"

He shakes his head in response. He fixates on a burning log as if he doesn't want to look at you. When he does, his gaze is full of the kind of pain and hatred you've only ever seen on his face once before. As you remember the situation, your heart breaks. For both of you.

When you answer him, your voice is no louder than your breath. "It was Raphael."

Your stomach clenches so tightly that you feel like throwing up. That's how Charles knew where Raphael worked. Something you've forgotten until now. Something is pounding behind your eyes and it's only when a tear runs down your cheek that you realize you're crying.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Charles' voice is soft and through the veil of tears you see his hand twitch, as if he's struggling to take you in his arms and comfort you. But there's this stupid box between you. And you've never felt so lonely.

"Y/N..."

"Don't," you say quietly and without thinking about it, you reach into the box between you, grab everything you can with one hand and throw it into the fire in front of you. You watch as Annika's face burns. You throw a second handful into the fire bowl. This time it's his jacket. "That bastard."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather kill them both."

A faint smile spreads across Charles' face. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Although I've thought about it before. But I'm afraid that I won't be able to drive my super-fast car if I'm behind bars."

"What if I take over for both of us?"

"I think the prison clothes would look good on you, but the visiting hours are definitely a pain in the ass and I couldn't stand not seeing you every day," he says gently and reaches for the now empty box, which he now places on the floor next to the couch. Then he pulls you into his arms. And from now on, it's not the fire in front of you that warms you.

You stare into the fire for a while, feeling Charles' arm around your waist and his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you going to tell me what's in that garbage bag?"

"Oh." You straighten up, dumbfounded, and lean over the backrest to pick up the bin bag. As you turn back to Charles, his gaze quickly flickers back to your face. "This morning - after your mother visited - we were sitting together in the living room and you couldn't stop staring at the piano. But it wasn't the piano, was it?"

He shakes his head and as you untie the knot of the bag, he takes a peek inside. "I'd totally forgotten about that just now."

"That's what I thought. That's why I brought them." You pull out the letters of roses and place them next to you on the couch before handing him the first one. While he throws the first rose into the fire, you open the bucket of popcorn and snuggle up to his side again.

"Annika gave it to me for our second anniversary," he explains, before opening his mouth and looking at you expectantly. As you pop a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth, he grins at you. You ignore the fact that your fingers are tingling where they touched his lips: "I don't even like roses. I think they're too hackneyed and the most unimaginative thing you can give someone to show that you love them."

"So a gift without really making an effort," you continue his thought. "And what are your favorite flowers?"

When he looks at you, his gaze is warm and there's a sparkle in his eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. "Peonies."

You feel the warmth shoot into your cheeks and turn your gaze away from him. He throws more roses into the fire and you continue to pop popcorn into both of your mouths as the flowers burst into flames in front of you. You hope that this action is as cleansing for him as it is being said all over the internet. You hand him the second letter, which he can burn in peace, before standing up and taking his empty Coke can. "I guess you need a new one?"

His grin is wide. "Yes, please."

You disappear into the kitchen, where you leave the can on the counter and take a new one from the fridge. As you go back to Charles, you bump into Joris, who is just coming out of one of the rooms. "How did your online meeting go?"

"Pretty good," he replies and walks past you into the kitchen to take another can from the fridge. You stop in the doorway. "It was just about familiarizing myself with my new job, which I start in the New Year."

"That's right," you reply and raise your eyebrows. "You said you'd been offered a job. Are you already looking forward to it?"

"Very much. I can hardly wait," he replies as you walk towards the living room. You can watch Charles through the window as he continues to set the roses on fire. "Was that your idea? With the whole burning thing?"

You nod. "Yes. I burned my ex-boyfriend's things too when I found out he'd cheated on me. Only I didn't have a big fire bowl."

"Then where did you do it?"

You shrug your shoulders. "In the kitchen sink."

Joris has to laugh before he nudges yours with his shoulder. "Your friendship is good for him. He's never opened up to anyone as quickly as he did with you. I'm starting to think I need to worry that you're taking my place as his best friend."

"Haha. You two have known each other for ages. I don't think I could ever get in the way, even if I wanted to." You have to smile. "But Charles is definitely my best friend. There's nothing I wouldn't want to share with him."

"It's nice to hear that you're good for each other." He smiles at you.

"Do you want to come outside?" you ask him as you walk to the patio door.

Joris waves you off. "You go and do your cleansing thing. But please don't burn down the sofa. That's sacred to me."

You stick your tongue out at him and grab the blanket hanging over the back of a chair before returning to Charles, who has now reached the last letter. You hand him the Coke and spread the blanket over your knees. The sun has set, but the fire in front of you is so bright that you have no problem seeing his beautiful face.

"Do you think she would have cheated on me too if I had been a better boyfriend?" Charles asks quietly at one point, without looking at you.

"I don't know."

He thinks for a moment. "She said that everything in my life revolves around Formula One. That I don't notice what's going on around me. And that I was never there for her like a boyfriend should be. And that she had to share me with the whole world." As he turns to you, you see tears glistening in his eyes. "You said you were sure there was someone out there for me who wouldn't find my job too hectic. Who will support me no matter how hard it gets."

You turn to him and put your hand to his cheek to make him look at you. A tear rolls down his cheek and you wipe it away with your thumb. "I have. And I mean it."

He licks his tongue over his lips. "You also said that there's a person out there for everyone. A soulmate with whom you can share everything. With whom you don't have to pretend and can be who you really are." You feel his arms wrap around your middle and before you know it, you're sitting in his lap.

You wrap your arms around his neck so you can hold him tight.

"So you think there's someone else out there for me? That I haven't missed my chance at love?" You feel his warm breath on your face and how much you want to kiss away the tears that escape his eyes. Take away all his pain. Show him how much he means to you.

But now is not the right time. Someday. Maybe.

"I promise you that."

You watch him throw the last rose into the fire. In an instant, the red blossoms catch fire, the stem begins to glow and before you know it, this last piece from a time Charles wants to forget at all costs disappears and turns to ash.

His grip on you tightens. A sign for you to turn towards him. When you look at him, his cheeks are wet, but he doesn't look sad. The smile on his face is honest and genuine and so loving that you can't help but return it.

He would love to put his hands on your face and kiss you until you can't breathe. To feel your lips on his, your skin on his and tell you how important you are to him. How much he craves you and that everything he feels for you goes beyond the limits of friendship. But the only thing he does is grab your hand with his and squeeze it twice. Maybe you'll understand. Understand why he always squeezes twice.

The right time will come. Someday. Maybe.

When you look at him, with tears in your eyes and a warmth that makes his heart stumble, he has to swallow. He's never been as grateful to anyone as he is to you.

"I'm free."

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bybobbysbeard · 20 days ago

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The Last Few Hours

Day 10 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: sleepy cuddles read on ao3 read other days here

Buck wakes to the soft, muted sound of a rainstorm. Everything else is quiet and far away. It must be late, or very early. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. It's peaceful here, in that slow, syrupy place between sleep and wakefulness. He’s curled up on his side, a warm body pressed up behind him. There’s a broad, masculine chest against his back and thick thighs brushing the backs of his legs. A heavy arm rests on his side, fingers absently stroking over his stomach. Soft lips touch the back of his neck. They’re so close, not an atom of space between them.

He would know that body anywhere. It’s as familiar to him as his own.

Buck rubs his face into the pillow. The rough, starchy fabric snags on his stubble. That’s… wrong. Buck converted Tommy to his fabric softener immediately after moving in. Their sheets don’t feel like this. Also, they’re both fully dressed for some reason.

He opens his eyes. Instead of the cream-coloured walls of their bedroom, he’s looking at the empty bunk across from him.

He’s in the communal bunkroom. Nearly all the lights are off, and the blackout shades are drawn. One bedside lamp casts a cool white light over their corner of the room.

That’s right, he’s at work. Trying to nap away the last few hours of agonizingly long 72 hr shift.

He goes to turn over, but the arm on his waist weighs him down, one large hand spreading out over his belly and holding him still. “Shh, baby. There’s not enough room.”

“Tommy? Why’re you here?” He reaches down, over the sheets; tracing rough knuckles and blunt nails. That hand flexes, pressing him into the body behind him.

Tommy’s low voice warms the back of his neck. “Your shift’s over. I came to pick you up.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He yawns, blinking and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I usually set an alarm, but I guess I forgot.”

“Don't worry about it.” His hand goes back to rubbing Buck’s stomach. “Hen mentioned your leg was bothering you, so when you didn’t wake up with everyone else, they let you sleep. How bad is it?”

Buck takes stock, bending his knee gently and rotating his ankle. It throbs dully, but considering the amount of calls over the last three days, it could be worse. “Not too bad. It’s sore. The rain makes it ache sometimes.”

“I remember.” That aquiline nose runs along the side of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Why are you in a bunk with me? Not that I’m complaining.”

Tommy laughs softly, warm breath gusting over Buck’s hair. “Well, Bobby sent me in to wake you up, but you didn’t answer when I called your name, and then you just looked so cute. I couldn’t resist.”

“Tommy!” He knows he’s whining, but if his family finds his boyfriend spooning him in the bunk room, the teasing will actually kill him.

“Oh hush, only Bobby is still here. I saw Hen and Howie leave, and Eddie was already gone when I pulled up. I’m not giving them any more ammunition.” Another kiss is pressed to his neck, and Buck can’t help but relax back into the mattress. It really is too small for the two of them and the white sheets have been washed thin and bleached half-to-death. The pillow is so flat, it’s basically flush with the mattress. The whole setup is miles away from their comfortable bed at home.

But Buck is still so tired. And Tommy is so warm.

Tommy jostles him. His eyes pop open again; he hadn’t meant to close them. He can feel Tommy smile against his skin. “Evan, sweetheart, don’t fall back asleep. At some point, Bobby will come in here. And he will probably take pictures.”

Buck groans. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Let me up.”

Cool air rushes in behind him when Tommy shifts away, making him shiver. The rain gets louder against the roof. There’s some quiet shuffling as Tommy gets to his feet, straightens his clothes and walks around the bunk to face Buck.

Buck braces himself, and carefully swings his legs off the bed. His foot tingles as blood flows through the swollen limb. He knows if the alarm was ringing, he’d be sprinting into his turnouts. And hurting. More than five years post-bombing, his leg still has limits that he can’t ignore. It’s frustrating. If he hadn’t picked up a shift in the middle of his week, he wouldn’t need to be this careful with himself. But he doesn’t regret it. Having someone from B-shift owe him a favour is always worth it. He mostly just regrets that all of his family has medical training. They usually notice him favouring his leg before he does.

Tommy is standing in front of him. He’s muted to monochrome by the dim lighting. His well-worn jeans look silver, his black t-shirt is a void. The blue of his eyes is washed out to grey. He holds out his hands, open palms facing up.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I know. Can I help anyway?”

Buck looks up at him. There’s nothing hiding in his open expression, no pity or judgement. He didn’t think there would be, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from checking. He puts his hands in Tommy’s. The bed frame squeaks as he’s pulled upright. A strong arm wraps around his middle while he finds his balance. When he's steady, Tommy leans in, peppering gentle kisses over his cheeks and lips. Buck sways forward, letting his boyfriend take his weight. The kisses taper off, until they're just standing there, forehead to forehead, wrapped around each other. Tommy pulls back a few inches and smiles at him.

“Ready to go home?”

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #tevan #my fic #911 abc

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gummilutt · 1 year ago

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Autonomous crafting for all teen+ Sims

I've never before been so happy to share a creation! Get ready to get crafting, because it's about to get autonomous! Released today in collaboration with the wonderful @joplayingthesims who has built a community lot for the mod, seen in the pictures below. Exciting!

In my game, I have a community lot with crafting stations for Sims who can't afford one, or don't have space for one. But as I visited it recently with one of my college students wanting to learn flower arrangement, I got a bit depressed by all the empty stations and the other visitors just standing around chatting. I wondered if anyone had added autonomy, and I came upon iCad's autonomy enabler. While neat, it only adds autonomy for the active household which is the opposite of what I wanted. So I made my own that enables it for visiting Sims as well, only to quickly realize how annoying that got. All these Sims asking me to pick a recolor for them, blergh! So I went on tweaking, fixing the annoyances as they came up, and here we are! Finally it is possible to have a lively crafting studio where all Sims participate, without being annoying for you the player! Are you excited? Because I am excited!

What does the mod do? - Enables autonomy on "make many" and "continue" (see readme for more info on why not make one) for all five original crafting types - Robots, toy making, flower arrangement, pottery and sewing - Does NOT charge your Sims money for background Sim crafting. Money sounds and visuals show for all Sims, but only your current households crafting charges household funds. - By default only autonomous on community lots. Has optional autonomy on residential/apartment lots, you can enable autonomy on those lot types by placing the Autonomy Toggler object somewhere on the lot (custom object made using parts of the FT crafting clutter, found in hobbies/misc for 1 simoleon). I set it up this way as residential autonomy sounds irritating to me, but I'm all about flexibility for the user. Perhaps you want to run arts classes at your residential playable school, or you simply like autonomy more than I do :) Please note that autonomy advertisement is tuned with community lot use in mind, so it might be higher than you'd want for residential. If there's interest I am happy to make a second version with lower advertising for those who primarily want residential use. If you are somewhat familiar with TTAB edits yourself, you can try changing attenuation code to low or medium to limit advertisement distance which will reduce appeal to Sims. VER 2: Toggler object now also works on community lots, turning off autonomy if present on community lot. Residential/apartment behavior remains the same as before. - Fixes annoyances with background crafting, such as selecting recolors and pop ups about progress - Changes inventory mechanics to allow for owned studio-type use, in case you'd like a friendly owner Sim present to provide instruction. Crafting now only goes to business lot owner if done by an employee, otherwise crafting Sim gets the object. Includes home business, so if it bothered you that family members don't get to keep their work, this also fixes that. If that part annoys you, see readme for how to remove this feature.

Download mod on simfileshare | Download ver 2 on simfileshare (New version out, fixing a bug reported by Nemertes. More info here)

You might say "Okay well fun for you Gummi, but I don't have a community lot with crafting stations, so why would I need this?". Well fortunately Joandsarah has the solution for that problem! Check out the cute crafting studio she built to give all of you a place to start community crafting! Available on MTS

Conflicts: Only known conflict is iCad's original autonomy enabler, you have to pick if you want hers version of autonomy, or mine :) Readme contains breakdown of the functionality of all parts, to help you decide a load order should you encounter conflicts. It should be possible to resolve conflicts though if there are any others, so please report them to me :)

Credits: @joplayingthesims for collaborating with me and providing a lot that you can get started with if you don't have one, iCad at @dramallamadingdang for the original autonomy enabling mod, @cityof2morrow who helped playtest the mod

If anyone else builds a community lot intended for autonomous use, I hope you let me know somehow so I can add links to it in my post :) If any other modders see ways to improve on what I did, please feel free to do so :) I am hoping to eventually post an update that sends all crafting to inventory to fix the make one issue, and the station clogging that happens over time.

#gummiluttmods #ts2 mods #ts2 gameplay #ts2 crafting #ts2 cc

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citrustan · 6 months ago

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hello , can i request a drabble wherein oc finds out that their husband politician Namjoon is having an affair with his secretary? like, oc found Namjoon was cheating when oc was watching the news and there are photos of the affair and a recorder phone call of the affair wherein the secretary was talking bad about the oc and Namjoon was just chuckling. thank u in advance ❣️

aaaa i'm excited to write this one, thank you for sending it in!

all eyes on you (knj)

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: angst!! husband!namjoon x wife!reader, mayoral candidate!namjoon x housewife!reader. i imagine namjoon to be older than oc.

warnings: infidelity! oc will be trashed a little ok. you have been warned. the contents of this story quite literally replicate the anon's request. please don't read it if you find the topics offensive and/or unappealing. oh u guys r gonna hate me,,

The living room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the television in the background. You weren't really watching anything in particular--- just letting the flicker of images fill the empty silence around you.

You were perpetually tired.

Your mind wandered, lost in the routine of another evening spent waiting for your husband to return home from wherever he was.

It's not just this though. Namjoon had been distant lately, buried in meetings and late-night phone calls, but you had brushed it off as just part of his life as a politician.

This was the price of being married to a man like him, or so you'd tell yourself.

It was peak campaigning period. Namjoon was running for mayor. So it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to pull all-nighters.

Yet, you couldn't help but stay up for him anyway.

Unintentionally, you switch to a news channel.

Normally, you'd prefer to stay far away from anything to do with politics, as ironic as it sounds with you being married to such an ambitious politician. But, you yearned to feel closer to him, and the news channel his (and sometimes your) name(s) frequented on was the only way for you to satisfy this urge.

You sat on your luxurious yet cold, leather sofa and zoned out, staring into space.

And, oh, what a choice that was.

“Now in. Breaking news on mayoral candidate Mr. Kim Namjoon...”

Just like that, your attention snapped back to the screen when the news anchor mentioned your husband's name. Your heart skipped a beat or two.

In only a second, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind, hundreds of scenarios where he'd hurt himself, or been hurt, maybe his opponent backed out and he was pronounced mayor right this instant, maybe his opponent was hurt, or maybe he was advocating for yet another controversial decision.

Not even close.

What followed wasn’t about a new policy or a political scandal--- it was something way worse.

Photos. Of him. Your husband. Kim Namjoon. With her. His secretary. Bae Joohyun.

They weren’t just working. The pictures showed them at some dinner, leaning in close, laughing in a way that made your stomach churn.

They looked too comfortable, too familiar, as if this was second nature to them.

How cliché.

It felt like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, eager to swallow you up and wipe every trace of your existence.

It felt like time had stopped. The air around you was stagnant. You couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched ringing in your ear; until what the channel displayed next.

The screen transitioned to a recorded phone call.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you heard Joohyun's voice, dripping with smugness.

“I don’t know how she doesn’t see it. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic,” you hear the woman sneer. “She’s too busy playing the good housewife while you’re here with me. I mean, what does she even bring to the table? It's not like you don't have staff handling your home.”

You don't even have time to digest the attack on you because what came next completely shattered you.

Namjoon's laugh.

It wasn’t just a polite chuckle, not something he gave when uncomfortable. It was genuine, full of warmth--- the laugh you used to think was reserved just for you, not against you.

“She’s a bit clueless, isn’t she?” Your husband murmured, amusement clear in his voice.

The remote slipped from your hand and hit the ten thousand dollar carpet with a dull thud.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of it, but nothing could explain what you had just seen and heard. All you could think was a mix of 'Namjoon' 'he hates me' 'what went wrong?' 'how could he dare to do this?' 'Joohyun was so nice to me' and 'I want to lie down.'

The man you loved, and cherished, the man you trusted, had betrayed you. And worse, he had laughed at your expense, as if you were nothing more than a convenient joke?

You can't even begin to feel the humiliation of the news being broken to you by TV emission, because your husband's betrayal had struck you so hard, all your thoughts surrounded only him.

Yet another irony; the news of his betrayal was broken to you so publicly, yet you were so, so lonely.

You can feel your cheeks and ears heating. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you don't cry.

Not yet. You don't know why.

Instead, you continue to sit there, numb, as the rest of the world kept spinning around you.

The hours (two hours) blurred together as you sat in silence, staring at the news segment on repeat.

There was no new information. Just the commentators discussing your life. They had managed to dig into your and Namjoon's past. Then his secretary/mistress' as well.

Yeah, she had been promoted to 'Mr. Kim's mistress.'

They discussed, and agreed with Joohyun's take on you being a lousy wife to Namjoon. How Bae Joohyun is a better fit for him. Then another counter argument stating you were 'the perfect, submissive, wife material' for Namjoon.

They went into detail about Namjoon's past relationships, then moved on to scrutinizing every single interaction he had with a woman since your marriage being made public.

Then, they brought on more guest stars on the show to react to your husband's leaked voice recordings.

You felt hollow, with every heartbeat punctuated by that same mocking laugh playing in your head.

All your devices, phones, iPads, landlines, had been vibrating and ringing non-stop. You wonder if any of those are from Namjoon.

It wasn’t until the door clicked open and you heard Namjoon’s familiar, hurried footsteps that you finally snapped out of your daze. He was almost stomping the floor. Following close behind, you hear another unmistakable 'click-clack' of a pair of high heels.

Your husband stormed in, his tie slightly loosened, looking weary from another long day, along with his fucking secretary, who looks equally fatigued.

He tries to talk, “_____."

Instantly, you shoot him down, "Don't even." You stood up with false-fervour. Not wanting to hear from either of the traitors, you turn to rush to one of the guestrooms.

Before you turned, you caught Joohyun rolling her eyes, her lips pursed in annoyance.

The woman looked more irritated at being dragged into this mess than remorseful. That was the last straw.

You don't quite remember what happened next. You were suddenly so fired up. Your brows furrowed, and your tears had clouded your vision.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest thing--- your fluffy house slipper, and hurled it straight at the secretary’s head pulling a stupefying gasp out of your husband.

"What the fuck?!"

note: this hurt to write kinda until i made her throw a slipper at joohyuns head :( ofc this is also kinda raw and unedited bec (you know it) lazy.

do you guys want a follow-up?? perhaps a confrontation? you'll have to be vocal abt it if you do... so talk to me u clowns 😡

BTW i love bae joohyun, i just think she'd be a perfect villain for this story. smart, sexy, bitchy, and intimidating.

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writeaboutit · 4 months ago

Text

Silly Abby Candy’s for Kids

Abby tries sneaking candy before Halloween and reader is not having it

Hellooo I’m in the mood to write some halloween themed stuff the rest of this month so stay tuned for a couple more stories!! Anyway just quickly wrote this which means there are deff mistakes on there. I’ll do my best to edit as I catch them but sorry in advance. Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Mainly fluff, tini tiny bit suggestive

Part 1: Donation Boot

Part 2: Damn the Chief

You grabbed yours and Abby’s dinner plates off of the dining room table and headed into the kitchen to deposit them in the sink.

Abby followed suit rolling up the place mats and grabbing both wine glasses, now empty.

There was a warm ember in your stomach from the alcohol just waiting to strike into a roaring fire.

At the sink you quickly rinsed the lingering bits of food off of the plates and slotted them into the dishwasher.

Before you could walk away from the sink however you hips were pined to the counter as Abby moved into the space behind you.

You giggled at her closeness, constantly feeling like a bumbling teenage version of yourself around her.

Your wife however acted if nothing was out of the ordinary. She went about her business swirling a bit of water in the bottom of the glass to rid them of the dried red line and placing them ever so gently onto the top was rack of the appliance.

Chills broke out across your neck as you felt her warm breath fan across your shoulder with each movement. This was seriously not helping the alcohol buzz.

You needed to clear your head before you both got distracted and wasted the rest of the night away. The idea of it was too enticing. Dangerous.

You bumped your bum back towards her hips, “Give me some space Anderson,”

She chuckled and placed a quick peck to your cheek, “Never Anderson,” though she complied and backed up and leaned against the opposite counter.

Next to her sat a big black bowl, or not really a bowl you guess, more of a cauldron. In it was mini individually wrapped candy bars.

Halloween was only a few days away and you had to get some treats before the grocery store shelves were bare. You’d hate to disappoint the neighborhood kids the night of.

Abby however thought it was dumb to buy all that candy. For some reason she was convinced you guys would only get two trick of treaters this year and then be stuck with three months worth of candy.

It wasn’t true of course, you were usually out of candy by 10 pm on Halloween night but Abby was more or less… a halloween Scrooge; at least when it came to kids taking the candy she was hoping to eat.

She complained about the candy but secretly she hoped no one would knock on that door come the 31st so she could hoard it all to herself like a dragon with gold.

She was already reaching into the cauldron as you dried your hands, trying to sneak a piece.

Not on your watch. You whipped the towel in her direction hitting the side of her thigh.

The movement made her jump in surprise. She looked over at you, the picture of innocence.

“What the hell was that for?”

You raised your eyebrows at her, “That candy is for the kids this weekend.”

“Oh come on one piece won’t hurt.” She tried to use her best begging eyes.

It was not going to work, at least not when it came to the candy but the wine was getting to your head now and other ideas came to mind.

You walked past her only slowing to grab her belt loop and drag her behind you.

“Where are we going?” She asked as the pair of you trailed over to the staircase.

You stopped at the base and turned to look up at her, “You can’t have the candy as dessert,” you paused for dramatic effect and whipped your baggy t shirt over your head. What can you say you have a flare for the dramatics, “but I have a better one for you, if you want it of course?”

Abby’s mouth hung open in surprise before she finally gathered herself, “Hell yes.”

You spun around to run up the stairs, giggling as Abby chased behind you.

#sapphic #wlw #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #lesbian #tlou2 #abby anderson fluff #fluff #tlou #ao3 #fanfiction #wlw yearning #suggestive

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intrepidacious · 4 months ago

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❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

#bucky barnes x reader #time after time #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #inbox #sleepover time #tiff 🌤

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archangeldyke-all · 9 months ago

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MORE RANDOM SEVIKA HEADCANONS PLS!! i love how you think

more?!!?? okay!!!! :D

men and minors dni

she'd only get on social media to follow you. she'd have to have you help her set up her profiles and stuff, never posts anything (unless she's reposting your pictures with a bunch of heart and flame emojis) and never logs on (unless she gets a notification that you've posted, because of course she has notifs on for you.)

old people LOVE her. she's like catnip to them. some of it is because she's an old grump already, but most of it's just 'cause she's quiet enough to listen to them yammer on about 'the good old days.'

she acts like she hates it-- but you always catch her shoveling your elderly neighbor's driveways during the winter and helping little old ladies cross the road. (she's part of the neighborhood book club too-- just a bunch of elderly ladies and sevika reading trashy smutty novels and laughing over spiked tea once a week. when it's your turn to host, sevika blushes bright red every time you bring her and her friends cookies and snacks: they're all cooing about how sweet of a couple you are, asking sevika when they can expect to have little feet running around the neighborhood)

she quits smoking when you get pregnant with little fucker.

one of her favorite ways to dodge a craving for a cig is to use her mouth for something much more satisfying-- like kissing you, or eating you out, or sucking hickeys into your skin...

every once in a while she'll still sneak a cigarette-- not because she misses it, but because she knows if she goes home smelling like tobacco you'll start peppering kisses on her mouth every ten minutes to make sure she's too distracted to smoke again.

she's sooo frugal. i think the reason she's wearing the same outfit for the whole show is she's just the type of person to be like "it still works?" while talking about her boxers that have a quarter sized hole near the crotch.

it's cute in some ways. she never throws out an old glass or jar-- most of your cups and storage is old pasta sauce and jam jars. each empty bottle of whiskey becomes a vase on a shelf or windowsill-- for little flowers, leaves, and weeds you and sevika always bring home to brighten up your space.

it's annoying in other ways. you have to secretly throw out her old socks and underwear once or twice a year, slowly replacing them with new socks-- but not too quick, or else she'll get suspicious as to why all her socks are hole-less.

she gets a little bit better at spending when little fucker comes around. she just can't say no to her own baby.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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mockerycrow · 1 year ago

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Congrats on 4k! Saw the post I was wondering if you could do a platonic fanfic? So with Dad!John Price + teen!reader with the prompt “I just wanted to be like you” with reader tell price that they’re thinking about join the military and with price being like “absolutely NOT.”

Take your time if needed!

-🫠

DIFFERENT PATH (Dad!Price x Teen!GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; Dark thoughts, angst, price is a good dad but he needs to control his tempter, you butt heads and you’re both stubborn asses.]

YOU HAVE BEEN uncharacteristically quiet at the dinner table, John notes in his head. You’re a bit closed in on yourself as you actually eat your food instead of talk your head off like usual. He notes the way you keep your eyes lowered, your shoulders hunched; alarm bells are going off in his head because he isn’t sure if something happened, because you aren’t telling him anything.

You have been like this since school—you’re usually eager to hang around John since he’s usually away off somewhere in a different country, leaving you with a family friend for a couple of weeks or months at a time. This time? You came home, gave John a quick hug, a quiet “hi”, and you were in your room until he called you for dinner. He did not bother you once you shut your door—if you need space, he wasn’t going to deprive you of that. John knows he needed his space after coming home from school when he was younger.

“So,” John hums, a green bean in his mouth. He quickly chews, swallows, and takes a sip of his ice water before continuing. “How was school?” There’s a moment where your eyes actually flicker to him for the first time all night before they flicker back down to your plate, moving your food around with a fork; you shrug. John let’s out a sigh and tilts his head. “Words, kiddo.”

“It was fine.” You respond, your tone neutral. John notices the way you aren’t eating much, every few minutes is a few bites. You’re either scarfing it down, or you don’t eat it at all because you can’t stop talking. “Fine?” He questions, wiping his mouth with his napkin. You nod in response, knowing he’s trying to pry more information out of you. “Can I go to my room?” You ask, your jaw tight.

John pauses for a moment, a knot in his stomach forming. “Yes, you can.” He responds after hesitating for a few seconds. A heavy sigh leaves him as he watches you spring into action, grabbing your plate and bringing it to the kitchen before jogging up the stairs to where your room is. John knew this would eventually happen, something running across in his path of parenting where you wouldn’t want to tell him about something.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve taped your mouth shut about something, but as you’ve grown to be more independent—you’ve been very independent as he’s been away a lot—he fears the worst. John just hopes you would trust him enough to tell him about something bad happening; even if you were involved and there was drugs or something else, he wants you to trust him. John wants you to know that no matter what, he would love you. Nothing would change that.

“Goddammit.” John mutters, cleaning up the table, grabbing his now empty plate and dirty dishes. He brings them to the kitchen and washes off his plate before sticking it in the dish washer with the utensils, spotting your barely touched food. John puts his hands on the counter and leans against them, slipping back into thought once more. Maybe it was time to talk to you about how he would still love you, even if you were involved in some bad shit? Is that the correct move?

John hates it—being on his own as a father. Your mother has never really been in the picture and you’ve luckily never taken an interest in knowing her, so he’s ruled the possibility of your mother coming back into contact. John doesn’t want to think about the other possibilities; the other stuff that could suggest a reason for this clammy reaction.

No, he decides, if you need something, you will come to him unless he deems it necessary to properly intervene. John puts plastic wrap over your plate and puts it on a shelf in the fridge before he retreats to his office. He keeps his door cracked for you in case you decide to change your mind—he knows something is up—and he grabs a book, sitting down in his office chair. John blinks at the book in his hands before flipping open to where he left his bookmark.

You come downstairs an hour or two after dinner was served. John was only half processing his book, rereading the same sentence at least four different times when you knock on the cracked door. John blinks and looks up from his book, quickly putting the bookmark between the pages and shutting the cover. “Come in.”You open the door with a nervous look, your hands fidgeting. The cat quickly runs into the office with a soft “mrr” as you walk closer to his desk. John holds his breath for a moment as you approach. “What’s goin’ on, kiddo?” John asks softly.

You sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk with your hands in your lap. You glance at his face a couple of times before you groan and rub your face. You look back at him, your eyebrows furrowed. “Look, I know we talked about this before, but..” You trail off for a moment, looking to him for some sort of guidance. John gestures for you to continue with, “We’ve talked about a lot of things, love. Go on.”

You press your lips together before you utter something that makes John’s heart drop. “I was approached by a recruiter in P.E. class today.” John shakes his head quickly. “Absolutely not.” He says harshly, crossing his arms. “You already know my answer, I’m not signing anything.” You groan loudly and lean back in your chair. “Come on, Dad! This is truly what I want to do in life, I—“

“It’s a hard NO. Do you hear me?” John hisses, looking at you. It’s almost like he’s speaking to one of his men when they messed up. “You do not want to be in my line of work. You have no bloody idea what actually goes on.” You and your dad have had this kind of conversation before; back when you were fourteen. John had just assumed you were just getting more attached to him—since you were twelve, he’s been able to go on leave to be with you more often than he had been able to before. John just assumed it was sudden attachment due to the (family friendly) stories he had shared.

But no, even two years later, you’re still insistent on what you want to do. “Dad, please, just listen t’me—“

“My answer is and always will be no. You have no fuckin’ idea what happens out there, kid. It’s nothin’ like the games I’ve gotten you, you hear me? It’s nothin’ like the shows or the movies you begged me to buy you!” John snaps, his tone borderline vicious. You flinch at his tone, your heart dropping to your stomach. Your avert your eyes; John has never spoken to you like that before. You try to hold back the tears, but your gut is tight, throat burning as well as your eyes.

“I just..” You mumble. “I just wanted to be like you, Dad.”

John blinks, your shaky tone bringing him out of his protective rage. Guilt swirls in his chest, dripping down to his gut and settling uneasily. “Fuck, I—“ He stutters for a moment before taking in a breath in to gain his composure. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never meant to snap at you like that, that’s completely on me.” John says with a much gentler tone than before, guilt lacing every word. Your gaze sticks to his desk instead of his face as you shrug, your eyes burning.

“That’s not okay for me to do, kiddos I just..” John lets out a heavy sigh. “You know I’ve been in the military my entire life; it’s not pretty. It’s not like the films you see, alright? I’ve seen.. many, many men and women be torn apart by bullets, blown up by explosives—hell, you know the nasty scar on my left side? I walked into an explosive rigged room when you were three years old, darlin’.”

That causes you to pick up your head and look at him with wide eyes, the tears brimming your eyelids. You blink, a tear quickly falling down your cheek. John has a guilty yet solemn expression, his eyebrows furrowed together; likes yours do when you’re also upset or thinking too hard about something. “Nearly cost me my life, kid. Nearly cost you your dad.” John says the last part quieter. He watches the way your eyes dart around as you process this information, your lips parting after a moment.

“Look.. I..” You trail off for a moment, your fingers licking at the seams of your pants. “I still.. I still want to, I just..” You pause. “I don’t see myself doing anything else, dad.”John closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. “You still have a year or two, I just.. I can’t sign anything for you, kid. If you die, I just—“

“—whAt if you die, dad?? You just admitted to me a risk you took and you’re still in the military despite having a kid!” You suddenly burst, your voice breaking. John blinks at you in surprise before folding his hands together in his lap, leaning back in his office chair with a quiet squeak of the bolts. “Why is it so different if I went in??”

John looks at you, at your passion and your frustration. “Because you haven’t been tainted by this life, love. You’ll never look at anything the same.” You give him a hard stare, the sadness turning into anger. “And if I said I’m ready for that?” A beat passes. “I’m not signing anythin’. But once you’re a legal adult, I can’t stop you.” You press your lips together; that’s one of the many things you and your father have in common. You’re both incredibly stubborn and won’t back down, and maybe you both bend and break the rules a bit. “I can wait.”

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