#I wish someone could just sit me down and tell me like
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milktiicup · 3 days ago
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H-h-hey.. senpai… I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because he’s such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)
Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this..!
(Can I be 🦁 anon?)
the jealous type!
His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be 🦁 anon!!!!
warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04
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It’s late when you return home. If it was any other day, you’d be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now. 
You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate… boyfriend? thing. It’s almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet. 
Sure, he’s the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didn’t have any friends here, but does that mean you can’t? It’s not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. He’s just… a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.
When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell he’s a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug. 
“You return!” he says, every time without fail. 
“I return,” you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesn’t let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.
Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”
Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?
“You can smell my friend?” you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, “Uhm… someone else… uhhhh… my friend.”
“Other friend?” Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.
You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. “Other friend,” you confirm.
“Friend… same me?”
You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. It’s hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. “I don’t understand…” you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. “They’re human.”
Mr. Crawling’s frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. “Friend like this?” 
Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. “Not like this, Crawling.”
“You one. You me two. Not like three.” His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Me like you. Worry… not like me. Gone long time… Smell someone else.”
You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. He’s not just possessive, he’s scared. You stretch your arms out. “Like you. Big like. See? This much!” You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. “Friend ok. Little like. Understand?”
You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. “You get it now, Crawling?” you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. “Uhm… when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?” He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. “Work friend! Not important. You important. You, uh… you understand me?”
“Me understand,” he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. “Smell bad… Me only like you. You smell good."
"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."
He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s truly getting it—or if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and that’s when you decide you don’t really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.
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Honey Girl. Chapter Twelve.
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previous (chapter eleven). series masterlist. the playlist.
chapter synopsis - And throughout it all, no matter what - there was Lacie.
pairing - dad’s bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au
warnings - cursing. alcohol consumption.
word count - 5k
authors note - to all my girls who have their girlfriends backs no matter what, who wipe their tears and fix their hair and tell them everything is going to be okay, who will always pick up the phone regardless of the time or place… this one’s for you.
masterlist. inbox.
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Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Honey, please. You’re making me nervous.”
You foot stills where it was banging against the cabinet, the words halting your movements. You’re perched up on your kitchen counter, watching as Bucky makes you breakfast, both of you illuminated by the morning light. He’s shirtless and wearing short shorts that show off the tanned, corded muscle of his thighs, skin all sun kissed and begging to be bitten.
There’s an energy coursing through your veins, prickly and warm. You woke up feeling like this - uneasy and on edge - like a grey cloud was looming in the distance, getting closer with every passing minute.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he moves to stand between your legs, warm hands splaying across your thighs.
“I’m fine,” you answer a little too quickly, avoiding his gaze. “S’nothing.”
Bucky takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmurs. “I can feel your anxiety in my chest. If it’s bad for me, it’s gotta be awful for you.”
“I don’t know what it is,” you whisper, playing with his fingers. “Just woke up with this… feeling.”
He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, lips warm on your skin.
“Get dressed.”
“What?”
“Get dressed, baby. We’re going out.”
“But what about breakfast?”
“We’re bringing breakfast with us.”
You stare at him for a moment, before nodding and hopping down from the counter. Padding across the kitchen tiles, you make your way into your room, your nerves too fried to worry about what your soulmate has planned.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The world passes by in a blur as Bucky speeds down the road, the steady roar of his truck soothing the buzzing in your bones. You arrive at your destination before you know it, coming to a stop next to a familiar path.
“Our house,” you breathe, looking out over the coastal plot.
“Our soon to be house,” he smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him. “Thought we could have a breakfast picnic.”
“That sounds… perfect.”
You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat to settle your nerves.
“Come on, honey baby. Let’s put down a blanket and eat while the everything is still warm.”
You get settled on the old, worn throw that Bucky keeps in his trunk, looking out at the ocean view that you’ll be blessed with for the rest of your lives.
“I may be the baker here, but you’re a damn good cook, sir.”
You practically moan as you bite into the sandwich, rolling your eyes when your soulmate can’t help but laugh at you.
“You blow up my ego too much.”
“Well, someone has to, I suppose.”
He shoves you in the shoulder lightly, chortling at your dramatics when you throw yourself backwards.
“If you’re done with the theatrics, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Fine, fine,” you relent, sitting up and finishing your breakfast. “Show me, Buck.”
He reaches into the picnic basket, pulling out rolls of paper and unfurling them in front of you.
“Official house blueprints. Got them all printed properly so we can mark them up and make adjustments.”
You run your fingers over the designs, trying to picture it all in your head. You trace journeys through the house - living room to kitchen, bedroom to bathroom, front door to backyard. Bucky watches you, gentle smile etched almost permanently onto his face. He wishes, for a moment, that he could speed up time - that the house was built and finished, so he can swim in the pool with you on Sunday mornings, stay up late watching movies on Friday nights, listen for your car pulling into the driveway after a long day at work in the week.
“I’ve been thinking about the little things, you know. That I’d want in the house.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You smile, all hopeful and content, and every worry Bucky has ever had vanishes into thin air.
“Tell me.”
“I think we’re - I’m - gonna need a pantry. If I try new recipes at home, I have to buy copious amounts of flour and sugar and all that jazz. I think a pantry would make everything a little bit easier.”
Bucky pores over the blueprints, pointing at a certain area of the spacious kitchen.
“We could add one here? Build the walls into this cove section, close it off.”
“Perfect,” you grin, leaning over to kiss him sweetly.
He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, allowing the warmth of your skin to seep into his.
“Also,” you murmur against his lips, “I was thinking that we should make sure the shower is plenty big enough for two people. Hmm?”
Your soulmate groans, closing the gap between you to press a kiss to your smirk.
“I agree,” he hums. “I couldn’t agree more, actually. Might put a bench in there for good measure too. You know, just in case.”
You can’t help but chuckle, pecking him again before sitting back to get a better look at the designs.
“As long as I’ve got lots of kitchen storage and countertop space, I’m happy. Everything else is a bonus. I could live anywhere with you and be happy, actually.”
Bucky’s looking at you like you are the sun, bright and blinding and brilliant. A couple of years ago, if anyone looked at you like this, you’d have shied away, shrunk into the shell of yourself to avoid the gaze. Now, you revel in it, soaking up the warmth that being the centre of someone’s universe brings.
“I love you so much, my honey. And I can’t wait to build you a house.”
“I love you so much. And I can’t believe you’re going to build me a house. I mean, how many girls can say that?”
You shift over to slot yourself into Bucky’s side, the heavy weight of his arm around you anchoring you to the present. Resting your head on his shoulder, you try to exhale all of your anxiety, focusing on the coastal view instead.
Your eyes are drifting closed when you’re startled back to reality by your phone ringing. You grab it and show it to Bucky, who smiles at the sweet picture of Lacie that lights up the screen.
“Hey, Lace.”
“Hi babe! Has your Mom texted you?”
“Not this morning, no. Why?”
“I just bumped into her in the grocery store, and she invited me over for dinner tonight. She said we’re well overdue a catch up, just like old times. I figured she’d call or text you when she got home.”
“Ugh, that sounds amazing. I’ll call her in a minute and double check the details, but… I can’t wait.”
“Yes, call her! I’ll bring both red and white wine, just to be sure. I’m so excited you wouldn’t even believe. It’s been too long since I’ve spent the evening with my second family.”
“And I’ll make you that cake you like for dessert, the raspberry and peach one.”
“Eeee! You’re the best. See you tonight, babe!”
“See you tonight, Lace. Love you.”
“Love you too. Later!”
You’re grinning when you press the red button to hang up, content with the sudden addition of evening plans. Bucky presses a kiss into your hair, happy to see you the most relaxed you’ve been all morning.
“You wanna join us, Buck?”
He tightens his arms around you, pulling you in so you’re sat in between his legs, back to his chest.
“No, it’s okay. It’ll do you good to have a night with your family, honey. Besides, I have like two weeks worth of laundry to catch up on.”
“Stop it. I’ll be having fun with my best friend and you’ll be… doing laundry?”
“Might clean my oven, too.”
“Stop,” you laugh, leaning back into him. “You’re making me feel guilty.”
“Well,” he hums against your ear, “seeing as they’re stealing you away from me tonight… how about we go sailing today? Promise I’ll get you back in time to get ready for dinner.”
“I’d love that,” you breathe, twisting around to plant a kiss on his stubbled jaw. “We haven’t been out on the boat in forever.”
“Then let’s go, honey girl. The ocean awaits us.”
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
Being on the sailboat with Bucky takes you right back to the day after your Tethering.
Salty breeze whipping through your clothes, sun beating down on your skin, wooden boards creaking beneath your feet. Your soulmate stands on the deck in his pale blue linen button up, adjusting the sails with experienced precision. He’s the image of grace, like a statue made of marble carved by an ancient sculptor.
“You thinking about that day?”
You didn’t even notice he’d moved, too fixated on his backlit silhouette and how beautifully broad his shoulders look.
“Yeah,” you grin, propping yourself up on your elbows where you lay. “That was a good day.”
“Yeah, it was.”
He sits down on the deck in front of you, rubbing circles into your calf with his thumb.
“A lot has changed since then, huh?”
“Yes and no. We’re still just as clueless about the soulmate stuff as we were back then,” you chuckle. “But we’re happier now. Less afraid.”
“And we still haven’t talked to your parents about it.”
“But we will. Very soon. Oops.”
Bucky shakes his head, smiling as he does it. You move to sit in the space between his spread legs, allowing his arms to wrap around you and cage you into him. The two of you stay like that for a while, embracing the calmness that time has brought you.
You close your eyes, slowly letting yourself relax as the gentle waves and the anchoring of your soulmate ease your nerves. Bucky hums lowly into your hair, a tune that you can’t quite place your finger on.
“Have I heard that before?” you ask in a murmur.
“Maybe. It’s an old song, my mom used to sing it to us as a lullaby.”
“That’s sweet.”
The mental image of a tiny little Bucky all wrapped up in his blankets while his mother sings to him is almost too much for your heart to handle. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melody.
“You never talk about her.”
“Hmm?”
“Your mom. You never mention her.”
“I don’t really have much to say.”
You contemplate it for a moment, before deciding to just bite the bullet.
“You know my mom mentioned something about your sister the other day, and I had to sit there and nod and pretend that I already knew it. When in reality, I didn’t even know you had a sister, Buck.”
You can feel him tense up behind you, muscles going stiff where they’re wrapped around your arms.
“It just never came up.”
“Never? In almost two years of us being soulmates, it never came up?”
Bucky’s silent - perhaps the most silent you’ve ever heard him. The sound of the ocean waves is suddenly amplified, filling the empty space.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, honey.”
“Anything. Literally anything. I just… why do I feel like I don’t know anything, all of a sudden? Your family, your upbringing, nothing.”
“Because it’s not relevant. I’m not just gonna bring it up out of the blue for no reason.”
“I’d say our pasts are pretty relevant, Buck. They make us who we are. I’m not gonna sit here and push you to talk about something you don’t want to talk about, because that’s not fair. But I also don’t think it’s fair that you know everything about me, and I feel like I don’t really know that much about you.”
You’ve turned in his arms, sliding back so you can face him from a distance. You’re expecting him to look angry, or sad, but instead he looks… guilty. Caught out, even.
“You know more about me than anyone else in this world does,” he says eventually.
“Maybe. But I couldn’t tell you your mom or sister’s names, where you grew up, any of it. It makes me feel like there’s a piece of you, however big, that you just don’t want me to know.”
“I… don’t know what to say.”
“Okay. Well, neither do I, anymore.”
The two of you sit for a minute, waiting to see if the other one has anything else to add.
“We’ve done this in the wrong order, I think.” You’re whispering, but he hears you loud and clear. “We think we know each other just because we’re soulmates, but we don’t.”
He goes to interject, so you continue quickly.
“We’ve avoided tough conversations because we thought it’d make things easier, but now they’ve come back to bite us. Buck… do you know how much we haven’t talked about?”
He bites at his bottom lip, gaze never leaving yours.
“We’ve not spoken about marriage, or kids, or any of that stuff. I mean, do you even want kids? Do you know if I do? Would you want to get married? God, did we think that by not having these conversations that they’d just… go away?”
“I- I didn’t want to scare you off with the hard topics too soon. You were overwhelmed at even having a soulmate, never mind marrying or having kids with one.”
“Yeah, but Buck… we’re past that now. We should be able to talk about everything, and we’ve just pulled the wool over our eyes in blissful ignorance.”
Bucky takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his windswept hair.
“I don’t have the time that you do.”
“Hmm?”
“Kids. On my next birthday, I’ll be forty. I don’t have the time to wait around, wondering and debating if I want kids or not. You can wait another ten years if you want to - but I can’t.”
The reality of that statement hits you like a freight train, knocking the air out of your lungs.
“I can’t be an old dad. A little older, sure. But no one needs their dad to be fifty when they’re a baby. Seventy when they’re twenty one. Dying when they’re not even forty yet.”
A tear slips down your cheek, landing on your thigh with a tiny splash.
“I’m not ready for kids,” you confess quietly. “And I don’t know when I will be.”
Bucky nods in understanding, careful eyes taking you in.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, honey. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
In this moment, nothing anyone says will make anything any better. You can feel each others sadness in your chests, blue and heavy and constricting.
Bucky sails you back to shore without another word, both of you quietly contemplating. He drops you off outside your apartment building, the roar of his trucks engine the only sound that can be heard. You gently rub your thumb over his cheekbone where he’s caught the sun, before picking up your bag and unlocking your front door without looking over your shoulder.
You can’t bear to meet his eyes. You don’t dare to.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
You spend the rest of the afternoon baking.
It takes your mind off of everything, at least temporarily. You throw yourself into the recipe you’ve made at least ten times, all for Lacie. This is her favourite thing you create, and you’re absolutely determined to make it perfect for her.
You place the final raspberry on the top of the cake, and burst into tears.
It feels like everything you’ve built - that you believed was solid - actually has cracks running throughout. You want to convince yourself that you’re not mad at Bucky, but you think that maybe you are. He’s made the conscious choice to never share parts of his life before you with you. Even knowing that he didn’t do it with any malicious intent doesn’t seem to make it any easier.
Taking a deep breath, you pop the cake in the refrigerator to keep it from melting, before making your way to your bathroom. The water you splash on your face makes you feel a little more alive, the coolness of it shocking you back to reality.
You inhale, watching your reflection in the mirror as you exhale shakily. A noise from your phone rings out from where it sits atop the vanity, a text from Lacie lighting up the screen.
-
From: Lace <3
Can’t wait to see you tonight babe!! Are you wearing a skirt, or are jeans the vibe?? Shorts maybe?? Send me a pic of your outfit <33
-
You smile as you type your reply, picturing her face in your head as she reads it.
-
To: Lace <3
No outfit picked yet - will let you know what I decide. Definitely not wearing jeans, skirt is a maybe. Made your cake though <3
-
You press send and hop in the shower, hoping that the hot spray of the water will wash away some of the tension in your muscles. Trying to turn your brain off, you decide to focus all your attention on getting dressed and ready, putting on some music and pouring yourself a glass of something fruity.
Tonight will be a good night. You’ll make sure of it.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
You wait for Lacie out on the street, just like old times. If she was ever coming over when you were kids, you’d stand at the end of your driveway, too excited to stay on the front porch.
She tries to run towards you, but her wedge heels don’t let her get too far. She hobbles over instead, half hopping, half jumping to get to you faster.
“I am so excited!” she practically yells into your ear as she hugs you tightly. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Lace,” you laugh, “I saw you last week.”
“Too long!” she declares, grabbing your hand and leading you towards your front door. “Let’s have the best night ever, yeah?”
“Yeah. Let’s.”
Your parents are overjoyed to see Lacie again.
“You got taller, kid?” your Dad asks as he ruffles her hair, much to her dismay.
Your Mom’s laughing, shaking her head as she pulls her in for a quick cuddle.
“You look beautiful, sweetie. Have you changed your hair? Is it lighter?”
“You like it? Did it a couple of months ago. Wanted a change.”
“I love it. I need to make an appointment with you soon, I’m well overdue a cut.”
“I’ll make space for you anytime, Lori. Just text me and I’ll fit you in.”
“Wine, anyone?” your Dad yells from the kitchen doorway. “Lacie, I know you’ll have some!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she teases, giggling. “But yes, I will. The biggest glass you have, actually.”
You grin as you sit down to your place at the dinner table, Lacie taking the chair next to you. She’s already launched into a story about a nightmare client at work, making all of you double over with laughter.
The stress leaves your body the more you smile, all four of you wrapped up in this perfect bubble of nostalgia and friendship and memories and love.
Just like old times.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
“We’re going for a walk. You girls want to come?”
Your parents are stood hand in hand in the doorway, looking at you expectantly.
“No thanks, you two go ahead. Think we’re gonna have a drink on the porch.”
“Okay, sweethearts. See you later.”
They’re giggling at something when they leave, the melodic sound of it hanging in the air behind them.
“You wanna raid the bar cart?” Lacie asks, looking at you with mischief in her eyes.
“Yes, I do,” you laugh, standing up and pulling her with you.
The two of you find a bottle of coconut rum, half empty but still in date. Your best friend holds it in her hand as if you’ve discovered buried treasure, face lit up with excitement.
“Let’s sit out the back, maybe see some stars.”
You get cosy on the porch, both of you curled up under a blanket to keep the evening chill at bay. You pass the rum back and forth, content to just be in each others company again.
“Remember when we were like sixteen, and your Dad caught us trying a cigarette out here?”
You smile at the memory, casting your mind back to that day you sat in this very spot.
“And instead of yelling at us, he told us that we were lighting it wrong?”
“And then he called us losers while he walked off laughing.”
You both shake with laughter, recalling the look on his face.
“I thought we were so grounded, but then I just felt kinda lame.”
“That’s my Dad for you. He’s always had his own method of parenting. And honestly? It’s worked pretty good so far.”
Lacie looks at you with a measured gaze before taking your hand in hers.
“Have you guys talked to your parents yet? About everything?”
“No,” you reply a little too quickly, bottom lip wobbling. “Not yet.”
“Hey, hey.”
She scoots over so she’s practically sitting in your lap, legs tangled with yours under the throw as she slings an arm around your shoulders to pull you close.
“Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
You didn’t realise you were until she said it, now feeling the warm tears drip down your face. There’s a lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of, and you wonder momentarily if it’s your sadness or Bucky’s.
“Me and Bucky had a bad day.”
“What happened?”
Her fingers are rubbing gentle patterns into the skin of your shoulder, her soft eyes watching you encouragingly. She’s always been the most patient person with you - as if she knows you’ll tell her everything eventually, even if it takes you a while.
“I just had this - this, this sudden realisation? That I don’t feel like I actually know that much about him, or his past, or his family. And when I said this to him, everything got weird and tense and he was all closed off.”
“Did you ask why? Why he hasn’t shared this stuff with you?”
“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “He told me he just didn’t have much to say.”
“Well that’s not really an answer.”
“Exactly. Am I being crazy? You’d tell me if I was being crazy, right?”
“Of course I’d tell you, you know I would. And you’re not being crazy. He’s so involved with your family, so why shouldn’t you at least know a little about his?”
“This is what I mean,” you breathe, relieved that someone finally understands. “He’s purposefully never mentioned his parents, or his upbringing. You know I only found out he has a sister last week?”
“Woah. That’s… that’s kind of a big deal.”
“I just don’t know if he could see it from my point of view when we talked about it today. And I didn’t want to push and push just in case I pushed too far, because that isn’t fair and he wouldn’t do that to me. But at the same time… sometimes he closes himself off, whether he realises it or not.”
She squeezes you tightly, reassuring you with a simple gesture.
“I love you. You know that babe, don’t you? Even if we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I love you more than anything.”
She’s only making you cry harder, a mixture of happy and sad tears.
“I know, Lace. I love you so much.”
She rests her head atop yours, hands and hearts intertwined on the back porch.
“I just…” you take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I’m sad. And I’m angry. I’m angry that this is the hand I’ve been dealt. Not Bucky - never Bucky - God he’s the best soulmate I ever could have asked for. But I’m mad that we’ve had it so hard. Soulmates are supposed to be easy and simple and written in the stars and all I’ve felt is stress because our Tethering is so complicated.
I feel so uncertain of the future and who I am and who I want to be. And I never used to feel that way, but Bucky has changed everything. I love him so much, and that has altered my entire life and my entire future and the way I look at and think about the world.
I guess I’m just sad, at the end of it all. Because this should have been a magical honeymoon period for us, and instead it was filled with so much worry and hiding and confusion. And how is that fair? Why do some people have it easy, and others don’t?”
Lacie takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look into her big green eyes.
“Listen to me, babe. Nothing worth having ever comes easy.”
You’re expecting her to continue, but she doesn’t. She just watches you process, thumbs wiping away the tears on your cheeks.
“Nothing. Worth. Having. Ever. Comes. Easy.”
You’re nodding, letting her words sink in.
“You’ve been dealt a tough hand. You’re right. But when has that ever gotten you down before? You’ve always picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and kept going. It’s one of the things I love the most about you.”
A ghost of a smile threatens to take over your face, and she laughs.
“It’s true. And it’s not going to solve itself overnight. It’s going to require a lot of talking, a lot of listening, and a lot of patience. But the two of you will do it. Because you’re soulmates, and you’re meant to be. Literally.
Have some time apart, put a little space between you. And then come back together and work through this. It’ll do you both some good to take a step back and look at everything from a different perspective in a few days. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, tucking her hair behind her ear so it stops blowing into her face. “Yeah.”
“And you know where I am if you need to talk or rant or scream or cry or all of the above.”
“Always,” you chuckle, resting your head on her shoulder. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
The two of you abandon the rum, instead choosing to make some tea to drink out on the porch. You watch the stars for hours, just like you did when you were kids.
“You wanna have a sleepover tonight?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If Cameron doesn’t mind.”
“He won’t, don’t worry. I’d love to.”
Your Mom and Dad watch through the kitchen window, as the two girls who were once four years old running around the garden are now grown women, sitting out on the bench and holding hands like they used to.
They’d pause time, if they could. Just for a moment.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
You feel like giggly teenagers when you both snuggle up under your blankets in bed, the light of the moon casting shadows across your features.
You’re all tucked up, facing each other and whispering in the dark. These would be your favourite nights when you were kids, especially during the summer. The promise of no school tomorrow, staying up and sharing secrets until the early hours of the morning, trying to keep your voices down so your parents didn’t hear. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed it until now.
Lacie moves a piece of hair away from your face, her manicured nails against your skin making you shiver. She reaches for your hand under the duvet, linking your fingers firmly.
“You know, I was never worried about meeting my soulmate,” she murmurs into the dusk. “I was always excited, but never worried.”
“You weren’t? How come?”
“Because I’ve had a soulmate since I was four years old. And she is the most important thing I have. Even if I never met my romantic soulmate, I would have been okay - because I know what true love is.”
A tear slips down your cheek and onto your pillow as you shuffle sideways, resting your head on her shoulder.
“I’m so lucky,” you sniffle. “And emotional. I think the rum has gone to our heads.”
Your best friend laughs a little too loud, both of you trying to muffle the sound with your hands.
“I’ve always been a teary drunk,” she chuckles, squeezing your fingers. “Before we both fall asleep because the wine has hit us, let me just say that I’m proud of you. Going to California, having the courage to come back, opening yourself up to Bucky… all of it. You guys will be just fine.”
“Yeah, we will. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, though.”
“We make a good team,” she grins.
“We always have. We’ve had twenty years of being a good team.”
“Here’s to twenty more,” she whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“And twenty more after that,” you whisper back, snuggling into her.
You fall asleep like that, still tangled and clutching each other’s hands like you’re children again. You can almost feel the love in the room, all warm and soft and glowing.
No matter what happens… you’ve known what true love was since you were four years old. And that is something that no Tethering can replicate.
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sosa2imagines · 2 days ago
Text
My doll...
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Disclaimer- Something my pervert brain thought about, I hope you all enjoy. Warning- Soft dark Bucky, smut, possessiveness, jealousy, 5.3k words.
Bucky Barnes had always been a man of few words. A soldier by nature, a soldier by habit. But it was something about you that had always made him feel like he was at a crossroads with himself, like his life could go one way or another depending on whether or not he could ever find the courage to speak up.
The first time he realized he was in love with you, it wasn’t a dramatic moment. There were no bells, no grand gestures. It wasn’t like he had a clear, defining thought of this is it. It was quieter than that. He was sitting next to you in the Avengers’ compound, watching you work on some new project you had thrown yourself into, fingers deftly moving over wires and circuits. Your brow furrowed in concentration, lips parted in that way that made him want to reach out and touch you.
He never had before, of course he was too afraid of ruining the friendship, too afraid of making things weird.
And that was how it had always been. Quiet. Unspoken.
But even with those feelings slowly building, Bucky stayed quiet. He watched you from the edges, from the safety of his distance, telling himself that if you ever really loved him, you’d say it first. He couldn’t risk the possibility of losing you altogether. So, he waited. And waited. And waited.
Tonight, was supposed to be like any other. A rare night off from their duties. No mission on the horizon, no danger lurking around every corner. The team wasn’t together, except for you. You suggested going to a bar nearby for a drink and a break from the constant grind of life in the compound. Bucky had decided, almost reluctantly, to say yes.
Bucky had, of course, known you cared. In all the small moments, like how you would always check in on him, ask him about his dreams or how he was really feeling. And the way your eyes lingered on him when you thought he wasn’t looking.
I know you love me, he thought. I know it.
But Bucky never had the nerve to say it out loud. And now, here he was, sitting across from you at the bar, staring into his glass of whiskey, wishing he could just reach out and touch your hand without the world falling apart around him.
He was far too aware of how close you were, and yet how far away you still seemed.
You were laughing, your voice light and full of life. You always seemed to shine brighter when you were in this mood, the weight of the world lifted, even if only for a moment. But Bucky could see the flickers of doubt in your eyes. Could see the way you kept looking over at him, waiting for something.
Maybe tonight was the night you’d say it. Maybe tonight you’d do what Bucky couldn’t bring himself to do.
But as he watched you, a strange feeling began to take hold. A spark of jealousy. It was a ridiculous thing, he knew. But it wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about the way you looked at other people—it was about the way you looked at him and didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything.
It was then that a woman approached him.
Bucky didn’t want to be rude. He’d never been the type to just turn someone down, but when the woman slid onto the seat next to him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, he didn’t feel the usual discomfort. Instead, he felt an odd sense of power and control, maybe.
She was bold, confident. The way she laughed, the way she touched his arm, the way she spoke to him, it all felt like a challenge. A test. And before he could stop himself, he realized something. He wasn’t afraid of this woman. He wasn’t uncomfortable.
But you were.
He saw the way you stiffened in your seat, the way your smile faltered. You hadn’t said a word, but Bucky could tell, he knew. You were jealous.
And for some reason, that made his heart pound. A dark thought crept into his mind, ‘Maybe this is how it’ll happen. Maybe I can make you admit it. Maybe I can get you to finally say what we both know is true.’
The woman leaned in closer, her fingers brushing his. Her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered, “So, what do you say? Care to dance?”
Bucky glanced at you once more. You were still staring at him, but now, there was a mix of frustration and hurt in your eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He should stop this. He should turn away. But a dangerous impulse surged through him.
“Sure.” he said, standing up without another word, letting the woman take his hand and pull him toward the dance floor.
He could hear your breath hitch from across the room. He could feel your gaze burning and intense. But he didn’t break. Not yet.
They moved in close as the music shifted, her body pressed against his. It was all a game now, a game Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to play but couldn’t help himself from continuing. Every move he made, every gesture, was designed to make you feel something. To make you feel what he had felt for so long ‘the ache.’ The longing. The desperate desire for something more.
But as they danced, his thoughts were on you. Only you. And all the ways he had hurt you without ever realizing it.
You were standing now, getting your things, heading for the door. And Bucky’s chest clenched as he realized something. He couldn’t let you go. Not like this. Not anymore.
“We are done!” he said to the woman, his voice sharp as he brushed past her, heading toward you.
The cool night air hit him as he caught up to you just outside the bar.
“Doll, wait,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “Where are you going?”
You didn’t turn around, didn’t even slow down. “I’m going back to the compound, Bucky. I’m done.” Your voice was quiet, but it was laced with finality. “I’m done pretending. Done watching you with her.”
“I’m going back to the compound,” you repeated, your voice a little too calm, too controlled. “I need to clear my head. I think I’ll go check in with Steve.”
The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the shift in the air. Bucky froze.
You hadn’t expected it, Bucky was always so controlled, so guarded. But there was something in his eyes now. Something darker. The breath you’d taken in to steady yourself suddenly caught in your throat.
“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was low, tight with barely contained emotion. His grip on your wrist tightened, and you could see his jaw clench, the muscles beneath his skin rippling with barely restrained anger. “You’re going back to Steve?”
You nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze. You had no idea why, but you couldn’t meet his eyes right now. Maybe it was because you could feel his anger building, and it made you uneasy.
“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound indifferent, but even to your own ears, the words felt hollow. “I’ll be fine, Bucky. I just need some space.”
You tried to pull away, but his grip on your wrist tightened, pulling you back toward him. His eyes locked onto yours, and there was something in the depths of his gaze something primal that made your breath catch.
“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, his voice rough, his tone clipped. “You’re not going back to Steve. Never ever!”
His hand moved to your other wrist, and before you could protest, he spun you around, backing you up against the cold brick wall of the alley. You gasped at the suddenness of it, the sharp heat of his body pressing against you. The force of it left you breathless, but it wasn’t just the physical contact that left you feeling winded, it was the storm swirling in Bucky’s eyes.
“I don’t care about your games, doll,” Bucky continued, his voice now a dangerous whisper. “I don’t care if you’re trying to protect yourself or play it safe. You don’t get to walk away from this. Not after all these months. Not after I’ll final say what I should’ve said the first goddamn time I saw you.”
Your heart hammered in your chest as Bucky’s breath came faster now, his face inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the anger and frustration practically crackling in the air between you. His hand was on the wall next to your head, caging you in, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to hold you there, to make you listen.
“Don’t you dare go back to Steve!” he snarled. “I know what you’re trying to do. I know what you’re hiding from. But don’t you dare tell me you’re choosing him. Not when we both know what’s between us.”
Your stomach twisted at his words, a jolt of panic rising up in your chest. You had to get away from him, from this. But somehow, the words felt wrong. He was right. Something had shifted tonight, everything had shifted tonight. And the more you tried to run from it, the more you realized that you were just as tangled up in it as he was.
You shook your head, trying to pull away from his grip. “Bucky, stop. Just stop.”
But he didn’t. His hand moved from the wall to your face, cupping your jaw with surprising gentleness. His thumb stroked over your skin, the touch almost tender despite the fury that was still burning in his eyes. It was like he was trying to hold on to you, trying to keep you from slipping away.
“I’ve spent months pretending I didn’t want you,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and raw. “I’ve spent months watching you with him, keeping my distance, telling myself it was enough just being close to you, just being around you. But it’s never been enough, Doll. It’s never been enough, and I can’t do it anymore.”
“I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world stood still.
You swallowed hard, fighting the surge of emotions that were building inside you, fighting the tears threatening to break free. You had never seen Bucky like this so raw, so vulnerable, so… angry. It terrified you, but in a way, it also made you realize just how deeply he cared for you. How much he had always cared for you.
His grip on your face tightened, but there was no anger in his eyes now, only something softer, something that made your heart beat even faster. “I don’t want to claim you, Doll. I want to have you. I want you to choose me.”
Before you could respond, Bucky’s lips crashed into yours again, desperate and urgent. It was no longer a question, no longer a plea. It was an answer. His hands slid to your back, pulling you into him with such force that you could feel his heart racing against yours.
The kiss was everything every unspoken word, every hidden desire, every emotion they had both kept buried for so long. Bucky was done hiding, done pretending, and as you kissed him back with equal fervor, you knew there was no going back from this.
“Don’t go back to him,” Bucky whispered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “I’m not letting you go.”
You didn’t know what to say. The words felt like they were stuck in your throat. You had always thought you’d have time to figure this out, but now that the truth was out there between you, out there between him, you knew that there was no more time for pretending. No more time for games.
You pressed closer to him, your hands threading through his hair as you kissed him again, and in that moment, you realized there was only one thing that truly mattered.
Bucky dragged you in the room at the backside of the bar.
Without warning, he pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours. His hands cup your face, holding your gaze captive.
He presses himself closer, one thigh between your legs. His hands move from your face to your hips, gripping them firmly. His lips graze your ear as he speaks, his voice a low grumble. “I'm going to show you exactly how much I want you, right here, right now.”
His mouth closes on your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. You feel his fingers slipping under the hem of your tee, tracing a path of fire along your waist. “I've wanted you for so long, you have no idea. Watching you, smelling your scent, feeling your touch... it's been driving me crazy.”
His lips move down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of hot kisses along the way. One of his hands moves up to cup your breast, his thumb gently circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra.
You let out a gasp, arching into his touch. Your body is responding to his every move, awakening a need you've kept buried for far too long. Bucky smiles against your skin, enjoying the way he's unraveling you piece by piece.
“You like that, don't you? Feeling my hands on you, my mouth on your skin.” He whispers in your ear before capturing your earlobe between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to send a shiver down your spine.
His other hand slides under your skirt, trailing up your thigh, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Your breath hitches, your legs growing weak as Bucky's touch becomes more and more brazen.
He chuckles lowly, satisfied to see you coming undone under his hands. “You're so responsive... so sensitive. I love seeing you like this, completely at my mercy.”
He spins you around, pressing your front against the wall. You feel his weight press into your back, his hands roaming everywhere, claiming you as his own.
“I'm going to make you mine, here and now. There's no stopping this, no denying what's been boiling between us for so damn long.”
His lips find the nape of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin. His free hand slides down your stomach, resting just at the waistband of your panties. The contact is almost too much, your mind reeling from the barrage of sensations.
“I want you so badly... Can I have you? Right here, right now?” He asks, his voice a deep, raspy whisper. He's poised on the edge, waiting for your answer, his body tense with anticipation.
You can't find the words to speak, too overwhelmed by the storm of emotions and sensations he's stirring within you. Instead, you respond by arching your back, pressing yourself against him, wordlessly signaling your consent.
Bucky lets out a guttural growl, the sound filling the air. He doesn't need anything more than that. His hands move with newfound urgency, peeling away the layers of fabric separating you from him.
He turns you around, his expression darkened with desire. He looks at you hungrily, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. His hands run up your sides, tracing the curves of your body, committing every detail to memory.
“You're so beautiful... So goddamn perfect.” His words are punctuated by small, lingering kisses along your collarbone, across your chest, down along your stomach. You're lost in the sensation, your body on fire under his touch.
He sinks to his knees in front of you, his lips continuing their exploration of your body. He kisses and nips at the tender skin of your inner thighs, teasing and tantalizing you with every touch.
“I want to taste you... I need to taste you...” He husks, his hands wrapping around your hips, pulling you closer. You can feel his breath on your core, hot and eager, making you shiver in anticipation.
His tongue darts out, tasting you lightly, just enough to send a rush of pleasure through you. You gasp, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him close. Bucky smiles against your flesh, enjoying how responsive you are to his ministrations.
He alternates between soft, almost chaste kisses and more firm, calculated licks. He's enjoying the taste of you, the sounds of your moans and gasps. His hands grip your thighs, holding you firm while his mouth works magic, making you moan obscenely.
“You taste so good... Better than I ever imagined.” He lifts his gaze, meeting your eyes. The raw hunger in his expression takes your breath away.
You want to speak, but your mind is a jumbles mess, unable to form a coherent word.
“You're driving me crazy, doll. I want to devour you, to make you mine in every way possible.”
And then he does. He dives in, his mouth devouring you in a frenzy of passion determined to bring you closer to the edge.
Your gasps turn into cries of pleasure, your body writhing under his skilful mouth.  Bucky's hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he brings you closer to your climax.
The world seems to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure Bucky is giving you. He's relentless, pushing you higher and higher, determined to give you more than you ever dreamed of.
His tongue works relentlessly, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh, anchoring you on the ground.
Just as your were about to come, Bucky suddenly pulls away, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire. He climbs to his feet, pinning you against the wall once again
“I need to be inside you... Now.”
He's barely able to get the words out, his voice thick with need. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss, his hands already pushing your skirt up around your waist.
His body presses against yours, the hard length of him rubbing against your core. You can feel the heat and strength of him, the evidence of his desire poking you.
“I need you, need this... I need you now..” He repeats the words like a mantra, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck, your ear.
He pulls you around, turning you to face the wall once again. You feel the cool surface against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body behind you.
“I'm not going to be gentle.” He warns, his hands gripping your hips, pulling them back against him.
You feel him against you, hard and eager, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hips move against yours, and you can feel just how much he wants you, how badly he needs you.
“Can you take it? Can you handle me like this?” He asks, one hand traveling up your spine, his fingers tracing the line of your vertebrae. His touch is demanding, possessive, but somehow still tender, as if he's afraid he'll hurt you.
You manage to nod, too far gone with pleasure to form words. Bucky lets out a low, satisfied sound, his mouth nipping at your shoulder as his hand slides around to your front.
He cups your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple, teasing and provoking.
“I'm going to take you, right here, just like this.” He growls, his hips pressing against yours.
You can feel him against you, his body poised and ready, the tip of his cock, teasing your entrance. “Are you ready for me?” He asks, his lips against your ear, his breath hot and urgent.
You can only manage a small, breathless moan in response, your body yearning for him to take you, to make you his own.
“I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me... That you need me...” His words are a needy, almost desperate plea, his self-control hanging by a thread.
You find your voice, forcing the words out despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “I want you... I need you... Please...”
“That's all I needed to hear.” The words are a rough, guttural grunt, the last vestiges of his restraint snapping. He positions himself behind you, the head of him rubbing against your entrance.
His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place. He's so close, so very close... But still, he waits, wanting to make sure you're ready for the next step.
“Just tell me if it's too much, okay? If I go too far, I want to know.” He whispers the words, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability, a hint of doubt, despite the powerful, animalistic way he's holding you.
You nod, your body thrumming with anticipation. You trust him, trust him not to hurt you, and that trust makes all the difference. You push back against him, signaling your readiness in the most primal way possible.
He lets out a low, gravelly moan, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He needs this as much as you do, maybe even more. “God, I can't wait any longer...”
He pushes forward, slowly, carefully. He's being as gentle as he can be, wanting to give you time to adjust to the intrusion. But it's torture for him, the heat, the tightness, the way you're clenching and squeezing him, enveloping him in a way he's never felt before.
“You're so damn tight... So perfect...” He groans the words, his body moving involuntarily, the pleasure too much to resist. His hands grip your hips tighter, his mouth trailing kisses along your back, your shoulders, your neck. He can't get enough of you, his body moving in a rhythm that's old as time itself.
“You feel so good. I never knew it could be like this.” He mutters the words against your skin, his voice thick with ecstasy.
He picks up the pace, his body moving more urgently now, following the pull of pleasure that's driving him onward. His hands are everywhere, caressing and touching, worshiping every inch of you like a man possessed.
“I could stay inside you forever. I never want to let you go.” He murmurs the words into your ear, his voice ragged and broken. He's lost in the moment, in the pleasure, in you.
You reach a hand back, tangling your fingers into his hair, holding onto him like an anchor in the storm. All the rights and wrongs, thrown out of the window.
“Don't let go... Don't ever let go.” He whispers, his lips finding your neck, the skin there already tender from his earlier attentions. His movements become rougher, more frenzied, as if he's desperate to get even closer to you, to merge himself with you in every way possible.
“I need you... I need you so damn much...” The words are a broken chant, gasped into your ear, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.
He's moving even faster now, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air, the only break in the silence apart from your moans and gasps. The pleasure is building, growing stronger and stronger with every thrust, threatening to consume you both. You can feel yourself close to the edge, teetering on the very precipice of ecstasy. Bucky knows it too, he can sense it, sense the mounting tension in your body.
“You're close... I can feel it. I'm so close...” He growls the words, his voice tight with the effort to hold back, to keep control for just a little while longer.
“I want to hear you say it... I want you to let go... Tell me you're mine.” His voice is harsh and ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his release.
You struggle to find the words, to form a coherent thought amidst the haze of pleasure. “Y-yours.. I'm... Yours...”
The words send a wave of pleasure through Bucky, his hips twitching involuntarily at the sound of your surrender. “Say it again... I need to hear it again…”
“Yours... I'm yours, Bucky... All yours...” You gasp the words, your voice quivering with the force of your ecstasy.
That's all it takes. Your surrender, your declaration of ownership, it breaks the dam that's been holding him back. “Mine... You're mine... All mine...” He repeats the words like a mantra, his body moving with a new fervor, a new intensity.
“Steve won’t take care of you like I can.” He thrust, “All I have to do is…” he hits you with another powerful thrust, messing up with your senses. “Make a sad face and remind him of my past!” He hits another powerful thrust, and the voice you make is between a cry and a moan. “He will happily give you to me!”
He buries his face in your neck, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. When he speaks again, his voice is a possessive, guttural growl, thick with desire. “And don't you ever forget it.”
His lips find yours again, claiming your mouth in a kiss that's hard and demanding. He's drowning in you, in this moment, the world around you reduced to nothing but the heat and the friction and the pleasure.
He's close, so close, but he won't give in, won't let go until he's brought you to your release, until he's given you everything he can give.
“Come for me, doll... Let go... Give yourself to me... I want to feel it, feel you...” His words are a rough, ragged plea, a demand made out of pure need. He's holding back, waiting for you to reach your peak, his body taut and trembling with the effort to hold back his own pleasure.
You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, balanced between light and dark, pleasure and pain, sanity and madness.
“Let go... Just let go... I've got you...” The words, the promise, they're enough to push you over the edge. You shatter, your body arching against his, a cry of ecstasy tears from your lungs. The world spins around you, your release crashing through you like a tsunami, leaving you breathless and trembling.
Bucky's there, holding you against him, his arms wrapping around, holding you up, keeping you from collapse. He's still hard inside you, so close to his own climax.
“God, you're so perfect... I've never experienced anything like this before...” His voice is gruff and broken, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls you flush against him. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his body trembling with need and restraint. “I need you.... I need to let go... you will let me come in you, won’t you? You will be a good girl for me, right doll?”
You nod, your body still thrumming with pleasure as you push back against him, signaling your absent-minded consent.
“You're going to be the death of me, woman...” His words are a rough whisper, a promise and a threat all at once. His grip tightens around you, his body tense and coiled like a spring. “Just a little more... just a little longer... I need to give you everything...”
He buries his face in your hair, his breath coming in jagged pants now, his body taut and trembling with the effort to hold back just a little longer.
“Almost there.... almost... I'm so close...” The words are a ragged gasp.
He let out a low, guttural groan, his body tensing against yours, his arms pulling you tight against him. “God, I... I can't... I'm...” he doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he buries his face in your hair, muffling his moan against your shoulder as his body tightens and spasms, his release washing over him like a tide, powerful and consuming.
He holds you close as he comes down, his body trembling with the aftershocks, his breath warm against your skin. “God... that was... incredible...” The words are a rough whisper, his voice thick with emotion. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin, as if he can't bear to let you go for even a moment.
He tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, as if he can't bear to have you any further than an inch away from him. “You're amazing, you know that?”
He nuzzles your neck, his lips leaving tender kisses along the sensitive skin there. He's so gentle, so different from the rough, desperate man who'd been consumed by need a few moments ago. As he sees his release dripping from between your legs, his eyes darken, making him feel more possessive about you.
“Mine...” He mutters the word against your skin, his voice thick with possessiveness. He knows it's probably a bit irrational, but he can't help it. He needs to express his claim over you, his desire to protect and own you in every way imaginable.
He then moves his fingers on your thigh, collecting some of his release on his fingers, bringing them closer to your mouth, a silent order.
You know what he wants, what he's demanding, even if he doesn't say the words aloud. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze, as you slowly bring your hand up to wrap around his wrist, drawing his fingers into your mouth.
“Good girl…” He murmurs the words as he watches you, his eyes darkened by a possessive, primal need. He loves how submissive you are in this moment, how willing and eager you are to please him.
He holds your chin, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips, feeling the glide of his own release against them. “You have no idea what you do to me, doll. You make me lose all control. And I love it…”
He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's equal parts tender and possessive. He can taste himself on your lips, and the thought just makes him want you more, more fiercely than before.
He pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming faster now, his body stirring once more. “I swear, doll, you're going to be the death of me...”
He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you, marking you as his in every way he can think of.
Little do you know, about the real possessiveness he feels about you. Bucky is already planning to take you far away from everyone. To keep you all to himself. While you are already lost in the kiss and afterglow of the sex, Bucky is already planning about the future.
He kisses you again, with a fierce intensity, his hands roaming over your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. He's thinking of all the ways he wants to have you, all the ways he wants to make you his. He's already made up his mind. You're not just a passing fancy, or a distraction. You're his now, and he's not going to let you go. Not ever.
He then sits on the couch with you, while you rest in his arms, he picks out his phone preparing to take you away. He types out a quick message, his hands still caressing your skin, his eyes never leaving your face.
He's arranging for a secure location, somewhere remote, somewhere he can keep you safe and, more importantly, all to himself.
“My doll.”
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alwaysthefool · 2 days ago
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But She’s Not You (x Zayne)
Technically part 2 to Opposite (linked) but you can read it stand alone too.
Warnings: insecurity
Tags: Angst to comfort, f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader
Synopsis: After you saw him with someone else and misunderstood, Zayne lets you know you’re the only one for him.
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Sulking at the waiting room couldn’t get past Yvonne’s sharp eyes. It had been a week since you’d come to the hospital. You didn’t pick up Zayne’s calls after you ‘ended things’, and him, being the gentleman that he was, did not push it. He was probably busy again, and now he had someone else to keep him company. Unfortunately for you, you had a weird and constant chest pain that was getting hard to ignore. You begged the receptionist to get you any other cardiologist than Zayne, which meant you had to wait, because Zayne would never make you wait when it came to your heart.
“What’s wrong?” She took a seat beside you at the metal chairs. “Trouble with the doc?”
You sighed, your head down, grateful she was here. “I saw him with another girl. Laughing, with another girl.”
“Dr. Zayne laughs?” Grayson slumped down on the other side of you. That just made you feel worse. Right, he was usually stoic, but who wouldn’t laugh when someone like her was making a joke?
Yvonne pinched Grayson, as if begging him to read the room.
“Well, he’s doing terribly.” Grayson spoke immediately. “I don’t think he took a break this entire week. Jo almost has to force him to take a break at times.”
Tears filled your eyes immediately and you hated that it wasn’t because you were concerned about him, but rather that he had another girl who’d remind him to take breaks, to eat sweets, to smile every now and then. It was selfish to think like that, but you couldn’t help but wish it was you.
“Dr. Grayson.” Yvonne warned, gesturing to you. “Don’t you have a surgery to get to?”
Grayson took the cue noticing your silent crying, pretending he was paged for something important, running away.
“There’s really nothing going on between them.” Yvonne tried to help you, patting your back. “There’s been new discoveries on Protocore syndrome treatments, and Jo is from the institute that made the discovery.”
You tried to stop the tears. Right, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s just… hard to be with someone like him.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Someone who’s always going to be wanted by people who are more than me. I’ll make one mistake, and he can find another girl who’s better than me in every way, and will never make any. I don’t want to spend my life thinking I have to compete.”
“Ms. [Name].” Zayne’s voice spoke from above you, sending your already struggling heart into a frenzy. “Please see me in my room immediately.”
You looked up to see him walk away, into his office, the nurse beside him, apologising to you. “I tried to hide it from him, but he was furious when I didn’t tell him you were here.” She whispered. You told her it was okay, silently following him. He held the door to his office open for you, closing it behind him once the two of you were in.
“You might be mad at me, but did you really have to try and change doctors?”
“I didn’t want to waste your time.”
“Nonsense.” He looked back at you with furious eyes. His hair was a mess, he’d definitely not had enough sleep, and you could see a bit of stubble on his jaw. No matter what happened, Zayne would put effort into his appearance, but you’d never seen him like that before.
You wanted to say something, ask him if he was alright, but you could only take your place on the couch in his office.
“How long have you been experiencing this?” He asked sternly, still standing, looking at your chart.
“A week.”
He shot you an exasperated look. “A week? And you’re only coming here now?”
I didn’t want to face you. You wanted to confess, but you settled with “I thought it’d go away by itself.”
Zayne tried to calm himself down, placing the chart on the table, sitting down on his desk with his head in his hands. You didn’t have control over yourself as your legs walked over to him. Even if he liked someone else, you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t help but reach for him, your hand lightly resting on his back.
“Zayne?”
“Can I hold you?” His voice was broken, pleading. You let out a soft ‘yes’, and he immediately pulled you into his lip, hugging you tightly.
Was Zayne… crying?
“You’re here.” He whispered, resting his face against your neck, nuzzling into it, tightening his protective hold. Even if you couldn’t hear it well, you felt his wet eyes. He still smelled of coffee and mint. “Please don’t leave me again. I thought I messed up for good. Please give me another chance.”
“I overreacted.” You put your hands in his hair, and he kissed your neck. “I’m so sorry.”
“No.” He pulled away, holding you firmly on his lap with his large hands on your waist. “I didn’t understand how it must’ve looked to you. I’m away all the time, I don’t make time for you, but if it’s not you…” He looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s no one.”
Your heart felt less heavy, the pain easing into relief. You took a deep breath, but it still hurt your chest a little.
“And I’m sorry for what I said.“ He continued.
You teared up again. “Yeah, you should be. You have no idea how I felt.”
“I’ll win you back, if you’re not yet convinced.” He kissed you on your cheek, taking a handkerchief out of his bag to wipe away your tears. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”
“What I came for. A diagnosis for my heart.” You smiled.
Zayne turned red, clearing his throat, helping you off his lap but not letting go of your hand. “Of course. I need you to come with me to get some tests done.” He used his free hand to look at his notes on the chart.
“And after that, you’re coming home with me so I can make it all up to you.”
—x—
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trashytracktales · 3 days ago
Text
Fade to nothing | CL¹⁶
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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.
© trashy track tales, 2024
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
𐙚 summary ──── Maybe the summer break on the French Riviera fried their brain cells, because they've finally decided to simply not care anymore if someone sees them together. But when she catches the wrong stares, she starts spiraling. Now, Charles has to switch her focus back on him.
𐙚 pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader
𐙚 rating ──── explicit
𐙚 category ──── F/M
𐙚 warnings ──── +18, secret relationship going public, fluff & smut, overusing French terms of endearment, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, lots of teasing, reader dealing with insecurities.
𐙚 word count ──── 5.5k
𐙚 date ──── Nov. 10, 2024
𐙚 a/n ──── Foaming at the mouth, because I find it so very offensive that I don't have my own personal Charles Leclerc. Anyway 😤. As Daniel Ricciardo said, enjoy the filth. Wait, no. That's me ���🎀
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
THEIR DAY ON the French Riviera begun in a golden haze. Hand in hand, they strolled through picturesque streets, enjoying every moment together. In public. For the first time.
They walked across the town like they were the only two people left on Earth, passing by quiet art galleries and stylish boutiques. For the most part, all she focused on was the pure excitement of being with him, holding his hand had, taking pictures and making memories. But as the day went on, her awareness of the curious looks she caught grew stronger.
The sun is now slowly setting, painting the horizon in a warm orange glow just as they return to Charles' boat. As though nothing could possibly bother them here, Charles puts his arm around her and guides her on board. Then, he offers her a gentle smile, his gaze full of warmth while telling her he's heading over to make some drinks.
The girl watches him for a moment, allowing herself to take in the serene comfort he exudes, and wishing she could absorb even a small portion of it. She always feels it when she looks at him, and this time around, nothing is different. On the contrary, somehow, it's as if everything she feels for him comes together in a tiny, small point, a singularity so powerful that it makes her feelings collapse on top of each other.
She rushes to the cabin to change, but her hands start to shake halfway through, and she can feel the doubts weighing her down. She keeps thinking about the subtle judgment she saw in their eyes, which serves as a reminder that many people might believe they jumped into this too soon and that she is only a fling — a stand-in for his previous relationship.
Even though she tries to push the thought away, the sadness comes too quickly, and tears start to well up in her eyes. Suddenly, she feels small, so out of place, as though she’s a visitor in his life rather than someone who belongs beside him.
Which sucks, because she really, really likes him.
She was always confident; she thinks that was one of the reasons why Charles noticed her in the first place. But now, it is as if all her confidence has evaporated under the gaze of some random people she doesn't even know.
They both agreed to keep the relationship a secret in the beginning, just as they both agreed that today they won’t care if anyone sees them. They've stayed hidden from the world for far too long, but now she wonders if they should have waited just a little bit longer because, all of a sudden, she starts feeling too unprepared for the wave that is about to hit, which sends her spiraling.
Because it takes her too long to return, Charles comes to check on her, finding her in the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked and clutching one of his shirts to her chest. Usually, he's not the type to intrude, but the soft sound of her quiet sobs fills the small room, piercing through him like a sharp, unexpected ache.
Without a second thought, Charles sprints over, kneeling down in front of her, his gaze steady, filled with raw concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She feels his hand on her thigh, which brings her back to the present moment, way too fast. Her breath is slightly shaky while her hands try to instinctively pull away from his gentle grip to wipe her cheeks, in order to hide any trace of her tears.
Looking down at him, she manages to let out a choked word that holds so much weight for her right now, “Us.”
“Us?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “What about us, mon cœur?”
She smiles, pressing the shirt closer to her chest, wiping the tears again with the back of her hand.
“I want you to have it all,” she admits, “And I'm starting to think that, maybe, I won't be able to give you what you need.”
He wants to immediately deny her statement, because in the four months they've been together, she gave him everything and more.
“What? What do you think you don't give me?” he asks, taking the same hand she wiped her tears in his palm.
She shrugs, “I just think… I sometimes think you deserve better.”
Better. The idea twists in his mind, disbelief and frustration tightening around his heart like a claw. He lets out a small scoff — not to mock her, but because it's hard for him to believe that she's doesn't think she's enough for him. It breaks his heart, because she cannot be further away from the truth.
“Where is this coming from?” asks Charles in a quiet, but firm tone.
She shakes her head, wishing she would've never opened her big mouth, “I was just thinking,” the girl repeats, letting out a dry chuckle. “It's nothing, really.”
Charles’ eyes travel across her face, taking in every micro expression, “You're crying, mon amour, so it's not nothing. Where is this coming from?” he asks again, “How much ‘better’ do you think I deserve?”
Her fingers start fidgeting in his grasp, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, “Everyone loves you, especially your fans. You deserve someone who matches that, someone who belongs in your world, without feeling so small next to you.” She pauses for a moment, the words weighing her down, “I saw people staring today,” she explains, “I know we’ve both agreed to not care about what they think or if someone gives a fuck about seeing us together, but I realized how out of place I must look beside you. That’s all.”
Charles needs superhuman powers to ignore the frustration that’s slowly creeping around his shoulders. His eyes are intent, fixed on her, desperate for her to see what he does. He knows that her feelings are valid and very real to her, but that doesn't mean that they tell her the whole truth. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it worse by explaining why people's opinions shouldn't affect her the way they do. Instead, he gently grabs her hips, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she's now straddling him, their faces inches apart.
“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low, “You see me, beyond everything everyone else sees, and that’s why you are more than enough. You are the realest thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand? You're not just a phase, and I'm so sorry I didn't show you enough how important you are to me. Because you are, bébé.”
She bites her tongue in order to stop herself from contradicting her boyfriend. Deep down, she knows she’s flawed in ways she can’t easily mend, no matter how much Charles wants to reassure her. A part of her wants to believe him, but even now, wrapped in his warmth, she knows the doubts will find their way back.
Charles’ hands drop on her waist, resting there while holding her close on his lap. He feels her doubt, understanding that she's struggling with more than what she lets him to see — another dagger to his heart.
“I'm with you, love,” he adds, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on her bare skin, “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not if I have any say in it, is that clear?”
His voice sounds far too bossy, which makes her flinch a little, recognizing too late that he is far too blunt for the situation they both find themselves in.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”
“No, don't apologize,” Charles rushes to say, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m glad you told me, but I want you to care about what I say, and not what people might say.”
He envelops her completely in his arms, and it’s like he’s just now realizing how small she feels against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She feels that, too — the warmth and steadiness of his arms around her, the way he grounds her, making her feel safe.
“I never doubted you, you know,” she clarifies, “I was just thinking that, if I can't handle pressure, I don't think we should…”
He tightens his grip around her waist, refusing to let her finish her thought, his heart screaming in agony as she tries to move away. “Don’t go there, please,” he almost implores her.
“Why not?” she whispers.
“Because it’s not the case, I promise.”
“But—”
“Because you'd be so wrong. Because I love you,” he continues, as if it's the most casual thing ever. Like it is as obvious as tomorrow. As easy as breathing. As automatic as blinking. As if it's not the first time he ever says it to her face.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The words are ricocheting against her skull like he just put a spell on her. Of course Charles loves her. He showed her this through every little gesture along the way, and she knows he means it, because for the first time since they got back, she realizes she doesn’t want to run from this, from him.
She was so blind, but the next time she looks at him, her fingers tracing his cheek, she simply knows. Charles lets out a small sigh, leaning into her touch, then taking her hand back in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Tell me you see it,” says Charles, exhaling a heavy breath.
His gesture makes her feel warm inside, “See what?”
“That you are everything to me,” he answers softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That I want you exactly as you are.”
For a moment, understanding dawns in her eyes — the realization that they are real, in spite of what she might think — like a light that is breaking through the doubts that had clouded her mind for so long.
“You are mine and I am yours, and I won't have it any other way.”
She exhales slowly, nodding in his direction. Even though he's able to see the relief washing over her face, he still needs a confirmation, so he can anchor himself to it.
“Say you understand.”
“I understand,” she parrots, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.
He sees the hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment. “You understand, but you don't believe me,” Charles concludes, his voice full of wonder. He sucks in a breath while freeing her lip, brushing his thumb against it. His eyes lock on hers, “You really think there is someone else out there who makes me feel the way you do, hm? Who else is going to be this responsive, baby?”
To show her what he means by that, he pushes his thumb inside her mouth, Charles' soft voice sending shivers down her spine. She opens up more, instantly, gazing back at him, realizing how right he is. Meanwhile, Charles is slowly pushing his thumb further, watching her lips closing around it.
His mouth curls up into a smile, “That's it, mon amour. Oui, see that? I don't think there is anyone else out there who can be this good for me, so eager to submit to everything I do,” he laughs, “Hell, I don't even have to tell you what to do, you just know, baby.”
She closes her eyes for a split second, sucking on Charles’ thumb, her hands gripping tightly on his forearm. It makes him feel in control more than usual, which awakens something primal in him. He ends up caressing the side of her face with his fingers as he pushes his thumb deeper, pulling it out with a soft pop, before shoving it back in.
“So fucking good for me, and you think I deserve better? What’s better than this, mon cœur?”
As a response, she moans slowly around his deliberate, slow movement. He finds it so satisfying to see how easily she listens, understanding exactly what she needs from him in return — patience, kindness, reassurance, and trust.
Charles pumps his thumb one more time before pulling out, using it to leave a wet trace down her neck. His hand tightens around it for a brief moment, bringing her back to him. She opens her eyes, still under the spell he put on her earlier with just three little words. Her eyes are dark as she looks up at him through her eyelashes, the desire in her eyes sparking like fireworks.
“You need this, don't you?” he asks curiously.
She nods, which makes Charles smirk. It’s easy to notice the subtle shift in her energy — the way she presses her body closer to his, and the way her breathing deepens. Charles sees the vulnerability in the way she looks at him, but he knows is different now; she’s not hesitating anymore.
Something flickers inside of him as her hand lightly but purposefully caresses his chest; she wants him to take the lead. She isn't seeking power or domination, but asking him to guide them both through this. And Charles understands she’s giving him the space to be the one to move them forward, because this is more than just a physical need. It's about how she decides, here and now, that she trusts him completely.
They stand inches apart, the air between them heated and taut with silent yearning. Every part of their bodies is tuned to each other in a way that feels so delicate yet urgent, and Charles can feel her heartbeat synchronize with his, both of them pounding in anticipation. Her lips are slightly parted as her eyes glide up to his, a silent invitation he cannot refuse. The outside world seems so far away, as if all that remains is this common understanding that neither of them is willing to let go of.
The kiss begins shyly and slowly. At first, his lips are gentle against hers, a slight touch that seems to carry the weight of all they have been resisting. She reacts swiftly, her hand slipping into his hair, drawing him in and intensifying the kiss.
Then everything changes — the pressure grows desperate, almost vital as the intensity increases. She melts into him, pressing every inch of her body against his as if she can't get close enough. It drives him wild, forcing him to tighten his grip on her. 
Slowly but surely, their make out session turns into a silent cry for something more profound, as her fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer. Their chests heave and their foreheads rest against one another until they eventually split apart, panting for one more breath of air.
“Forgive me, mon amour,” says Charles, trying his hardest to regain his composure.
“Forgive you?”
“Because I made you doubt us. Doubt me, and how I feel about you,” he clarifies, breathing wetly above her skin. “Will you let me show you how sure I am about this?”
She nods again, smiling, her hands still resting on his chest.
He gets up to lay her carefully on the bed, positioning himself between her legs as he unbuttons his white shirt. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes glide over her bare chest and the way her wavy hair spills over the pillows, making her look like an angel.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her neck, then going further down, sucking bruises all over her chest on his way to her stomach, claiming his girl with every flick of his tongue against her skin. He cups her breast in his palm, squeezing her enough to feel him all over her body, his lips reaching over her panties. “In case I wasn't dead fucking clear already,” Charles adds softly, almost like a promise, hooking his fingers on the lace material before pulling it down her legs, “I only want us. Like this. Always.”
She moans softly, anticipating his fingers to send her to another realm, far from any doubt. And her world does, indeed, change completely the moment she feels his tongue at her entrance instead. So hot and soft and warm against her, that her fingers curl instantly into his hair while his tongue slips between her folds, as if that is its rightful home.
“Charles,” his name comes out of her mouth in the form of a whine, sending little jolts towards his already hardened cock.
“Putain,” he chokes out, raising his head to look at her, “Nobody tastes like you do, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”
“Charles,” she whines again, her chest rising and falling with burning intensity. “Please…”
“Patience, bébé,” Charles chuckles, his voice vibrating hotly above her, “Let me worship you, so you won’t question me ever again, yes?”
He would have heard her agreeing with him, if Charles hadn't slipped his hands under her until his palms gripped her ass to pull her closer to his mouth. As a result, he hears her moan louder than before, smiling as he connects his lips back on her pussy, sucking on her clit with a newfound thirst.
His grip on her is so strong that even if she wants to push her hips further, she can't move an inch. Which drives her crazy, because his tongue works her with such frivolous movements, bringing her so close to the edge, but she still needs more.
“Baby,” she moans painfully, getting too agitated that it makes her get up, proppting herself on her elbows to watch him. “Fuck, Charles,” she adds, admiring how beautiful he looks between her legs, lapping at her with one goal in mind.
She tries to rock her hips back against the pressure again, which just reminds Charles of how good he makes her feel. The thought drives him mad and, even though it’s all about her right now, he can’t stop fucking his hips down so he can rub his aching cock against the bed, searching for any sort of friction.
“I feel you, baby. Don’t hold back,” says Charles, his voice sounding muffled between her legs.
His tongue is enough to make her come all over his face, he knows that, but he can't deprive her of his fingers when she needs him the most. So, he uses his hand to split her further under his mouth, making sure he touches her sweet spot again and again. And again, until a wave of pleasure hits her like a tsunami, shaking her to the core as she cums involuntarily. She tries to pull him out of her legs, because she knows how messy it gets when she comes that hard, but Charles drops his mouth back on her, driving her through her orgasm as his tongue finally stops at her entrance to catch the rest of her release. Then, he swallows her sweetness, letting his forehead drop on her thigh.
Their breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the entire cabin for a while, her palm resting on his cheek to caress him gently as they both recover slowly.
“So fucking hot, mon cœur.”
She sighs, still too sensitive from the pleasure that reverberates throughout her body, “Come up here,” says the girl, patting Charles’ head.
He pushes himself up, still half dressed and very much hard in his boxers. Charles lays his weight on her, exhausted, like he's came ten times by now. Gently, he rests his head on her chest while her arm wraps around him and his palm curves around her breast, pinching her nipple lazily between his fingers.
“You’re so perfect,” he says, enjoying the way she gets covered in goosebumps under his breath. “So perfect and so mine.”
She can't say anything to him without her voice shaking, so she gently grabs his chin, bringing Charles on top of her to kiss him. She feels her own taste as their tongues collide, causing her to moan softly into his mouth. Even if this kiss is much, much tamed than the previous one, just the thought that he was between her legs makes her pussy tighten, as if she's been set on fire from the inside out.
“Can I return the favor?” she finally asks in a breathy voice once their lips part.
Charles hums at the mental image of her mouth around his cock, but decides to push the thought deep into his mind, “Who said I’m done with you, mon amour?”
Charles' hand travels to her pussy once again, his middle finger gliding lightly over her wetness. Her eyes close in pleasure, while her arms wrap around his neck, before she realizes what he's actually doing. Her eyes snap at him as he reaches the letter 'R', Charles grinning proudly from above her.
Their faces are so close she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and their breaths blend together in a sweet warmth.
She laughs, “Did you just spell your name on my clit?”
His expression instantly lights up when he hears her. “Planned to do it with my tongue, but I didn't expect you to come that hard,” he admits, joining her in laughter.
She blushes at his statement, remembering how true it is. It's impossible for Charles not to notice that, but he loves it when her cheeks and chest become so rosy as a result. He also loves the sounds she makes when she's turned on, so he's not wasting any more time before teasing her wet entrance with his finger, pumping it slowly, until he feels her clenching around it. Just to make her forget the shyness, of course.
His flemish gaze sweeps over her entire body and, seeing her so vulnerable and willing beneath him, makes him want to run his tongue over every inch of her, to cover her in kisses and love marks until it's too much, so that he can come all over her pretty nipples just at the sight of her.
“Fuck, if you could see yourself right now,” says Charles, exhaling sharply. “You make me lose my mind, you know that? I almost forgot I still have to show you how mine you are. You want that, baby, don't you?”
“Yes,” she returns to whining, because apparently that's all she knows recently.
And she does it again, when his fingers pull out of her way too soon for her liking. She follows Charles, getting rid — fucking finally — of his shorts and boxers with a quick movement, poising himself again in his place, right between her legs.
She swallows hard at the sight of him, her mouth drying up in record time. She remembers the first time she saw Charles naked and how it didn't even occur to her that they would even fit. Of course, he made it work, because that's what a man with a huge cock does — it makes it fit.
The girl follows Charles as he wraps his dominant hand around the base, then runs his hand along its length, massaging the tip to spread the pre-cum. He made her feel so good, she didn't even take into consideration how torturous it must have been for him. But the little hums he lets out as he positions himself at her entrance are enough of a signal for her to push her hips against him.
Unfortunately, the man meant every word when he said he wasn't done, so he won't simply let her have it, just because she’s so willing to take him. She has to understand, once and for all, that this is it — she is it for him.
Slowly, Charles taps the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing mercilessly. It's almost like a punishment for thinking so low of herself, for doubting him, his feelings for her and what they've built together so far.
A lot can change in four months, especially feelings.
He lets out a shaky breath as he parts her folds with his tip, but instead of pushing inside, he fucks his cock up between the lips of her cunt. Once. Twice. Three times, until he's leaking on her clit, coated in her wetness. It is a sinful feeling that makes them both moan in unison, an ecstatic duet between two souls who found each other at the right time, no matter what people would say about it.
Fuck people. All of them.
She throbs against him, the feeling of skin on skin settings her atoms on fire. His hardness feels so good between her folds that she needs to anchor herself to something, and the sheets are far too fragile for her grip.
“Yeah, you feel that, ma vie?” asks Charles rhetorically when he sees her losing herself. “Of course you do. The question is, did you feel it before?”
“Charles…” she whimpers, pushing her hips against his length in order to find the sweet friction she craves. “Need you. Please.”
Her eyes are watering as she feels the knot in her stomach, waiting for a release that seems so far away — he’s not even inside, fuck's sake.
“So pretty,” hums Charles, ignoring her pleading. “You're gonna look so pretty taking me, ma belle. You always do.”
She raises her head only to let her eyes wander down Charles’ body, from his flushed face to his toned abs, down to where his cock rests hardened between her pussy lips. His eyes are locked on where they're making contact, the image so intimate and powerful it makes him want to scream. She realizes that this is a punishment for him as much as it is for her, but he enjoys it more since he's the one in charge.
She gasps in surprise when Charles grabs her thighs, her head falling back down on the pillows. He pulls her closer as he leans over to seal his lips with hers, having no intent to be soft this time, the passion that burns between them pushing him so close to the edge.
Charles’ tongue tastes her in a rush as he pushes forward, his cock pressing deliciously on her clit, making her break the kiss with a pathetic whine.
So predictable.
“Can you, please, fuck me already?” she says, frustration evident in every word she utters.
Her pleas are so close to get him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself so deep inside her, until he feels her coming on his cock all over again. But Charles groans loudly, hovering above her chest to take one of her nipples in his mouth, biting her gently.
At that, her frustration only grows bigger, forcing her back to arch against him.
“Charles,” her tone is demanding now, motivated to make him understand she's done playing.
“Don't worry, I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Turn over for me,” he replies, anticipation tugging at the edge of his patience.
She does as instructed without saying another word, feeling his hands grabbing at her waist to pull her against him. Then, Charles pushes his palm gently between her shoulder blades until her face is buried between the silky pillows. She lets a muffled moan while his knees are pressing down into the mattress on either side of her thighs, his cock resting hard against her ass.
“Did I mention how pretty you are?” he asks, not expecting an answer in return, while he finally guides himself toward her needy cunt. He pushes in, slowly at first. Deliberate and calculated, as if their initial contact is meant to gather as much data as possible, so he can choose the perfect setup for what's about to come — the position, the angle, the pace. “Such a pretty girl,” he adds with a tamed moan, “Opening right up for me. Every single time, baby. Taking me so well.”
She tries to get up by doing a weak push-up, but her head drops heavy between her shoulders as she fucks back against Charles' length, the pleasure overwhelming her.
The feeling of having him like this makes her squeal, failing to find a single thing worth more in this world than Charles thrusting from behind.
“Oui, have my cock, baby, like that,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss on her shoulder, managing to hit her deeper from this angle.
Charles' touch is still gentle, though, like he's testing the grip, desperately wanting to find the perfect balance as he eases into a rhythm made just for them. He takes every gasp and every shiver of her body as signals, relearning what makes her pulse race and using everything in their favor.
She turns her head to the side when Charles leans over to clasp the edge of the mattress, his knuckles whitening with the force he's putting into it. The veins on the back of his hand look like they're about to pop at any moment, bulging from his skin and snaking up his forearm, finally out of her view as they reach his elbow.
He's so hot and she is so turned on that she could come again just by looking at his arms.
Charles' pace begins to build, the intensity in his breathing growing more labored with every thrust of his hips. Each one is bolder than the last one, like he's reaching the apex of a corner, pressing into her just enough to feel the thrill without losing control. As a response to his movements, she starts breathing in short spasms, the world around them becoming a blur.
“That's it, bébé. You're so fucking good for me, I'm not… fuck,” his voice almost gives out, feeling how close he is to cum from fucking her like this, so he decides to pull out completely in order to prolong the feeling.
Charles learned from an early age that every race is unpredictable, so he has to adapt to any condition.
It makes her cry at the emptiness, her pussy clenching wetly around nothing while he looks down, curious too see how bad she needs him.
Her head falls back between the pillows for the hundred time, too exhausted to scold Charles any more. So, she guides her hand between her legs, firmly massaging her clit, feeling her thighs start to shake. However, the pressure is not nearly as good, which makes Charles chuckle at her weak attempts.
Patiently, he grabs both of her wrists to keep them pinned to her lower back as he uses his free hand to rub the head of his cock against her throbbing hole.
“Chaaarles,” she whines loudly, pressing her cheek deeper into the silky fabric under her, mind too numb to protest further more.
He buries himself back in with a strong thrust, making her gasp at the fullness. Somehow, it feels so much better than before, her body so sensitive in all the places they make contact.
With every shift in pressure and pace, Charles reads her reactions as if they are telemetry data on his steering wheel.
“Please don't... Don't stop again, please,” she lets out another cry, feeling her walls clenching so sweetly around him. “You feel so good, fuck, I… I'm so close.”
He knows that. That's why he stopped in the first place. But now he's ready to give her exactly what she needs, freeing her wrists as he watch them fall next to her body as if they're lifeless. Charles then grabs her waist with both hands, thrusting into her so hard that the sound of their bodies slapping together drowns out both of their moans.
“Want to fuck you for the rest of my life, amour. Please, let me fuck you for the rest of my life,” he implores, panting aggressively.
“Oh, yes,” she agrees, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.
Charles pulls out again, making her grunt at the loss. But before she gets the chance to protest, he flips her over, shoving his cock back in while searching for her eyes, a smug smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.
She moans in relief, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to bury her fingers in his messy hair.
“I almost started barking at you,” she admits, rolling her hips with his.
“I know, baby. Just wanted to see your face,” he explains, finding his pace once more.
“Oh, yes. Yes, feels so good,” she begins to moan uncontrollably under his weight, just as Charles leans down to rest his forehead against hers.
“I know, I know. I've got you, my love,” he kisses her again but it doesn't last this time.
Their mouths remain parted, breathing heavily against each other as she comes around his cock, gazing into each other's eyes as if they could see what shape their soul have. Seeing her face changing in pleasure, makes Charles fucking into her faster, following so closely after her.
His moans sound so melodious in her ears while he rides their orgasms, that she starts believing honey is dripping from his lips, because he cannot be real.
Charles is about to pull out when she stops him with a hand on his lower back.
“I only want us, too. Like this. Always,” she repeats his words from earlier, more determined than ever. “And I think I love you a tiny bit more,” she continues, running her hand up his spine. “That's why I was so scared.”
Charles shivers under her gentle touch, “You still scared?”
“Terrified,” she replies, giggling, pulling him in to capture his lips in a loving kiss.
The kind that makes the rest of the world fade to nothing.
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thank you for reading!
reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎
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nicholaschavezobsessed · 3 days ago
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I Need a Doctor
dr. charlie mayhew x plus size f! reader
18+ MDNI
warnings: cursing, suggestive language, patient in coma, not proofread.
word count: 1,219
should i write a part 2?????? ( i have started on pt. 2 it was supposed to be finished today but i have to delay due to a pet emergency. but it will be out this week ! )
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As soon as you received the call, you hurried to the hospital, pushing past the nurses who were trying to stop you from storming into the patient's room. Your hand immediately catches hers as you fall beside her bed, tears streaming down your cheeks. All eyes were on you, a mess on the floor beside your sister's bed, the room falling silent except the beeping of the monitor.
After a few seconds past, seconds really feeling like minutes, you glance up at the curious eyes focused on you. You stand up, clearing your throat, wiping the mess of tears off your face. “How is my sister doing?” you mumble quietly as you look at the doctor.
He sighs softly to himself as he runs his hands through his hair and looks down at the ground to avoid your focused stare. "Since someone dumped her off here last night, she hasn't progressed. The bright side is that we were fortunate to reach her at that time, or otherwise." You glance at your sister's condition again, your body churning with rage as she lies there, unconscious.
You move from her side to stand in front of the doctor, your finger accusingly piercing his chest, glaring at him as his words reverberate in your mind. "What are you not doing more of? Is there nothing else you can do? Your tone a mixture of sadness and anger.
You are brought back down a level by his powerful hands gripping your shoulders. "Y/n, we are doing everything we can, I promise.” You were shaken out of your thoughts by his gentle yet firm tone. Your finger slides off his chest as you let out a sigh. “I'm sorry, but she's all I have. I can’t lose her too.” You shake your head as your hands rub against your face, pushing your glasses slightly up.
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An hour later
After gathering your composure, you find yourself sitting in the cafeteria, eyes bloodshot red as you sip the coffee you don’t even remember fixing. Ever since the hospital called you, everything has been a blur, you’re not even entirely sure how you managed to drive here. Your eyes flutter shut, thoughts erratically running through your head, wondering how this even happened. There’s no way your sister just fell and hit her head.
You're startled out of your thoughts by the sound coming from the chair opposite from you. The physician who was responsible for your sister's treatment ended up across from you. You eventually glance him over, no longer consumed by rage. His eyes are piercing brown, and his hair is unkempt and deep brown. He clasps his hands together in front of you, a smile spreading across his lips.
“How are you feeling y/n?” a solemn tone to his voice as his eyes never once leave yours. You look into the now-cold coffee in your hands and shrug your shoulders. “I don't know if my sister will ever come out of her coma. So, tell me, Dr. Mayhew, how do you think I’m feeling." You scowl at him, the sarcasm leaking from your lips.
He throws up his hands, a laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry, I was just checking on you…” he utters softly, causing you to slightly crack a smile. “My apologies, Dr. Mayhew” you mumble the last part as you inspect his name badge. “It’s just…. hard to know that the only person you have left is in that state.” You take a deep breath and run your unsteady fingers over your hair. With a comforting hand on your shoulder, he pulls his chair closer. His eyes are fixed on you as he fades off, "I understand, I wish there was more I could do for you." You swiftly shuffle in your chair, turning your body to his.
"Not to burden you with all of this." Holding a hand between you, he interrupts you. "Go ahead; this is just a part of the job." His tone of voice has a tinge of sincerity mixed with sternness. "Well, my brother, sister, and I were the only ones growing up. It's terrible that my brother no longer speaks with us, but that isn't the point. Despite our age difference, my sister and I have always been close. The idea of her leaving my life is unbearable; we've been through everything together, so I never really envisioned it. Was she perfect? God no. But she’s all I have, and I’ll be damned if she leaves me.” You finally glance up, his eyes locked on you, causing your cheeks to flush.
His hand squeezes your shoulder, a soft smile placed on his lips. “I promise you; she’ll be okay. I will do everything I can.”
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Days turn into weeks, your sister still not showing any sign of getting better, but no sign of getting worse either. Each day without fail, Dr. Mayhew was there to comfort you in the cafeteria, always turning your sad days into bearable ones.
"So, Dr. Mayhew, tell me." He swiftly cuts you off. "Please, call me Charlie." You clear your throat, your voice slightly wavering. "So Charlie, tell me, do you do this with all your patients loved ones?" He leans back in the chair, glancing you over carefully, paying extra attention to the way your pants cling to your thick thighs. "Only the ones I think deserve the consoling."
"Oh? So, you think I'm worthy, Charlie?" As you see him observing you, you draw closer to him, your breath catching in your throat. His gaze gently moves up your body, taking in your voluptuous, thick waist. "Yeah, I think your worthy." You stand up and tug at the cloth that is stuck to your thighs as the room seems suddenly heated. "Excuse me." Without even glancing back at him, you dash to the closest restroom. You try to cool yourself by splashing water on your face while resting your glasses on the sink's edge. Wondering what the fuck is wrong with you, your hands resting on your plump cheeks. "He's your sister's doctor; you can't think like this." You place your glasses back on, images of him hovering over you, white shirt unbuttoned, that gold cross necklace dangling from him. You push those thoughts in the back of your mind as your swing the door open and step out, the cool air hitting you suddenly blocked as you connect with someone's body.
"Fuck, I am so sorry." You scramble over your apologetic words before a hand comes to rest under your chin, lifting your head to look at them. "If you wanted to be against me, all you had to do was ask." Charlie, smirked down at you, watching the color rise to your cheeks.
You stammer, over your words before backing up, gently pressing yourself against the bathroom door. "Charlie...." With cautious approach, he places his hands on either side of your head to stop you from moving. He leans down, lips grazing against your cheeks, causing everything else to fade away leaving only him and you in this moment. "Say the word and I'll leave right now, because I won't be able to control myself around you if you keep looking at me like that." His words send shivers down your spine, your breathing quickening as you consider his words. Fuck it.
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firemenenthusiast · 2 days ago
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—“to love”
farleigh start x reader
summary: asking farleigh to let you go if loving you isn’t worth it
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, fluff
a/n: i couldn’t decide between angst and fluff and i haven’t posted fluff for a while so yall getting BOTH. also sorry if this is kinda boring and cheesy and dramatic (me fr) 😞✌🏻
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the sound of water drops drumming against the window fills your ear, tapping away at each droplets of the pouring rain, taking you away from the realisation that it’s been raining since the sun slipped off the horizon. it must be cold outside, you imagine, with the loud heavy rain and thunders.
must be the complete contrast of how warm it is inside, especially the room you and farleigh share in this mansion given that you always kept the temperature toasty. farleigh always fussed about it too, saying that it’s too warm for him and insisted that if you’re gonna keep it that way, he’s gonna have to be shirtless in the room. wiping away another stray tear rolling down your right cheek, your lips curl in a quiver as you shut your eyes.
it’s almost hysterical how even in a space that warm and cozy, having yourself all wrapped up in his blanket and sitting by the window, you still feel all alone. you don’t get it. you have all these people around you, well, all the people downstairs partying away because it’s felix’s early Christmas party yet you still feeling left behind.
farleigh’s downstairs too, you believe he’s doing all the things he usually does when he’s in the party mood. maybe by now he’s already had too much to drink for, or he’s plopped down against the couch and counting the stars dancing around at the ceiling.
normally you would be snuggling by his side, holding his firm arm close to your body so some of his warmth could radiate against your skin, but it’s been months since you and farleigh had that kind of time together. now, it’s just routine quick kisses on the top of your head, before he’s out again to catch a smoke by the courtyard and disappearing all day long, even with you in the house.
feeling all the pent up confusion, mellow and slight anger settling down, you can’t help the small hiccups escaping your lips as your shoulders jerk at every sob. you can hear the muffled music from downstairs, and sounds of people cheering for whatever reason you could easily guess at. they’re typical, you would say, but what’s not typical is the distance you feel with farleigh, and how his behaviour as of late makes you feel worthless, and that the spark you felt when you first started dating has gone into a mere strike.
you know you should’ve just told him how you’re feeling. you know you could’ve just said that you hate the way he doesn’t kiss you anymore. you miss the feeling of his lips against yours, his soft ones cradling your lips that is enough to make you melt into the moment because farleigh is such a good kisser. you know how they say to communicate, but you wish it was that fucking easy.
because you hate having to beg for affection. you hate having to tell someone to love you, you hate having to teach someone that you desperately love to no end, how to love you properly. if you were really worth it, you wouldn’t have to do all that, would you ? if farleigh really loved you like you love him, he wouldn’t make you feel like this, all disregarded and unimportant. truth is, you almost made yourself believe that the relationship is a dead end, and that he’s gonna break the news to you anytime now. what’s the point anyways ? it’s not like he cares, does he ? he certainly didn’t when he left you feeling the worst after getting back your test marks and it was so awful that you cried. all he said was, and you quote, “just a test” before leaving you to go tanning with felix when he knew you studied all night long for weeks. he knew, because he was there, watching you flip through your notes desperately.
as you sit looking out through the window, your eyes trailing the fragile looking droplets of rainfall down the pane, drinking in your sobs that were frantic a few moments ago. you’ve spent the past couple of months just smiling away and comforting yourself that maybe he was just tired, and that he wasn’t feeling like wrapping his arms around you when you needed him the most. yet deep down, you know that it wasn’t supposed to be like that. he shouldn’t get to pick and choose just whenever the fuck he feels like having a relationship.
at this point you’ve made yourself believe that farleigh only keeps you around for the sake of having a girlfriend. you don’t think he wants to be a boyfriend alongside of that, nor he cares that he’s made you feel worthless with the fact that he hasn’t kissed you on the lips for weeks now. not sure if he even realises that, having made himself busy with all the cigarette breaks and hanging out with the group. sometimes you think that he goes on all that cigarette breaks just to get away from you. it’s funny because it’s not like you couldn’t stand the smoke, if anything you don’t care if he does it around you at all, as long as you get to be with him.
leaning deeper into the farleigh-scented blanket, the fuzzy material hugs you nicely making you feel a little comforted. you could hear the knob turning before the creaking of the old hinge of the door screeches your ear. quickly wiping the tears almost dripping off your chin, you suck in a shaky breath, bumpy from the sobs and the huge lump in your throat.
“hey babe, i didn’t see you downstairs. how long have you been here ?”
of course he didn’t even realise that you were never downstairs. eventually you get sick of the annoying music and lingering smell of alcohol on everyone. you hated how reckless everyone would be, just bumping against each other that sometimes someone gets pushed to the ground. you know because last time it had happened to you, and farleigh was nowhere to be found. he was probably doing a line at the corner of the room with his other friends but hey, at least he’s not cheating right ?
blinking away your tears, you could feel your eyes are already puffy from how much you were crying. the sniffles caught his attention, halting his movements on taking off his santa hat as he settles it down on the nightstand before carefully walking towards you.
“hey— hey, what’s wrong ?”
the huge flat of his palm finds its way against your back, slowly caressing the skin through your sweatshirt as he struggles to meet your eyes.
“baby,, c’mon—look at me, hey”
his deep voice soft, but nothing’s new as farleigh had never raised his voice at you, or yelled at you. he was always so sweet when talking to you, so when he started becoming so distant, of course you’d feel it.
slowly pulling your body into his embrace, his arms wrapping around your shoulder as you lean your head against his chest. the warmth radiating off his skin spreads across your body as the both of you just sit there, sheltering against each other’s body, seeking comfort and reassurance.
“what’s wrong ?” he’d ask for the second time, holding your jaw in his hands with his fingers cupped along your cheeks. his thumb caresses the soft skin of your tear stained cheeks before looking deep into your eyes, his beautiful brown hues piercing into your orbs.
you’re still silent, knowing that if you were to tell him all the doubts in your heart that you have of him, you’d just burst into tears again. instead, you just give him your biggest smile, praying that it doesn’t look so forced and that you’re about to cry again in his arms.
farleigh can’t help his own smile at seeing your cute face squished into his large hands, though it pains him seeing you like this. it physically pains him looking at you so broken, the puffiness of your eyes tells him that you’ve been crying a lot, yet he knows nothing of it, or the reason why. when he asks you again, coaxing an answer from you, you’d just shake your head.
“you know you can tell me anything” he coaxes, smoothing his palms down your hair, cradling your whole head in his hands
hearing the title he just called you jerks a new stream of tears down your cheeks almost immediately, as you shut your eyes and softly sob into his hands. seeing your reaction worries him, making him desperately pull you closer into his arms, trying to shield you from anything that may be fear in your eyes, and just protect you from being hurt, ever.
“just say it, farleigh” you manage to sob out, quirking his eyebrows into visible confusion.
“say ? say what ?” pulling away slightly to look at your face, your eyes busy counting the stray threads poking out the blanket
“— that you don’t love me anymore” letting out the words softly, you realise that you sounded so insecure and it’s just going to make him mad. but you know what you’ve been feeling, and it’s not you being insecure.
farleigh couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth as they leave him speechless. slowly pulling his arms away from you, he looks at you to try to find an explanation.
“what the fu— what are you talking about ?” it was ridiculous, what you just said. he hopes that there’s a better explanation for it seeing that your lips are quivering and you’re looking at him with knitted brows.
“all the cigarette breaks, leaving me in the middle of the night to go sleep on the couch, hanging out with felix all the time when im literally right in front of you, do you think im stupid—?“
“what— he’s my cousin !” he retaliates, thick eyebrows furrowed at your reasoning, thinking that it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“and im your girlfriend, farleigh. i don’t even wanna talk about how i was never downstairs tonight and you didn’t care enough to even realise !”
“you’re being absurd, there was a shitload of people” he’s leaning back against his heels, moving further from you as he looks at you in disbelief.
“i guess you don’t even care that we haven’t kissed in weeks”
your last words leaves him dumbfounded, having realised that he hasn’t felt the soft lips he’s so obsessed with on his for weeks now. it started for a couple of days when he was busy and overall just dealing with his own mental issues but only now had he realised that it’s been weeks. taking a few steps back, he’s now fully on his feet, with his arms crossed before moving a hand to rest on his jaw.
“you don’t have to love me if you don’t want to, farleigh” you mutter out softly, the volume only enough to register in his ears
you hear him scoff at the words as you turn to look at him, pacing around at the edge of the bed before snapping his head towards you
“i can’t believe this” you hear him mutter under his breath before tilting his head towards you
“you know, i try— sooo fucking hard to love you-“ he cocks his head to the side, eyes squinting in your direction. if you want to argue on the love in this relationship, he’s been meaning to fight back.
“i care so deeply about you, i pushed away my own issues, i struggle with my own being, those voices in my head—“ you’re looking at him, your whole body tense as you blink away the tears clinging onto your lashes
“all just so i can be with you, all so i can keep you safe with me, even if it means that im fucked up in the head—“
“farleigh—“
“i don’t know how do you want me to love you, because the only love i’ve ever felt was from my mom. even that they take away from me—“
“so i try, so fucking hard to love you, as best as i could. so for you to imply that it’s not enough—“ he scoffs once again, a pained laugh threatens to blow out of his mouth. looking up at him, his face contorts in what you could make out to be disappointment. or even disgust, with the way his lips bend into a frown. scanning your eyes across his sharp features, you wished you could take it all back so you wouldn’t have to see him looking at you like that. it isn’t hatred, or is it ? but you’d imagine how you’re pushing him through his limits.
“— that’s just fucking selfish. i don’t know what else do you want from me”
just as you’re about to open your mouth to say something, a loud thunder booms through the clouds, tearing the peace from the whole estate. the eardrums shattering sound horrifies the fear you have of thunder that you can’t help the scream piercing out of your mouth. you’re clutching tight at the material of the blanket, your head throbbing from the loud noise of the following rumbles from outside, the flashing of lightning accompanying the thunder that almost rips your heart of your chest, if it wasn’t already being ripped out by your cries.
immediately as he sees the flashing light before the thunder, like a natural reflex farleigh practically throws himself over to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you into him. he knows how bad thunder fucks with your nerves and how much you hated being alone when there’s thunders outside. rubbing his hand against your arms, smoothing over your sweater, you hear him hush softly on top of your head as he pulls you closer to his chest by the side of your head.
he rests his chin against your hair while he gazes through the window. amidst all the chaos of the loud booming noises and car alarms going off outside, you found yourself fisting at his knitted sweater, clutching your fingers, in an attempt to be as close to him as possible, to feel safe. after all farleigh’s still your safe place. it’s not like you ever want to seek home in anybody else.
“im sorry” just as you hear him say these words you softly push him away to tilt your head towards his face. all those things he said, makes you feel like a shitty person. maybe you’re the one who didn’t care enough to see what he’s going through. maybe he’s right, you are selfish.
“why, um-“ you begin with a coarse voice, the lump in your throat still clinging onto the walls before you clear it
“why didn’t you say anything ?—“ moving your head to follow his eyes, the glossy brown pair struggling to look into yours.
“—do i not listen to you ever, farleigh ?” you struggle to find the right question for him, having no understanding for why he feels like he couldn’t say anything and instead, just left you hanging all these while.
he’s silent, eyebrows knitted as he looks up at you with a tear rolling down his cheek. the corners of his eyes red, he’s been struggling not to cry since you brought up the issue.
a shallow regret claws at the walls of your insides when you look at him, with tears down his pretty face. moving to sit on your heels, you peel the blanket off your shoulders to pull him into the warmth, both of you sitting underneath the fuzzy material
“im sorry“ the only same words he manages to let out, again
“farleigh i should’ve-“ just as you open your mouth he cuts you off
“no—”
“—im sorry that you feel like i don’t love you anymore” it’s only when he says this does he look into your eyes, his hands moving over your face to move the strands covering your eyes away.
“because i love you, so fucking much—“ farleigh inches over, hovering his forehead over yours that the tip of your noses bump into each other. you can feel his hot breath fanning against your skin, as he smooths his thumbs over your jaw, catching the stray tear falling over your waterline.
“all those stuff you said,, fuck i didn’t know it was fucked up—“
“im sorry i made you feel like that. i didn’t wanna drag you along with me. i didn’t wanna make you feel unsafe” his words pain you, knowing that he kept everything that was wrong to himself. somehow it angers you, the fact that he feels like he couldn’t come to you. does he think that you were gonna leave him if he did ?
“you know you can tell me anything, farleigh—“
“i know, i just,,” as he searches for words, a hiccup makes his shoulders jerk.
“i was afraid that-“ trailing his words off his lips, he tilts his head to suck in a deep breath, his shoulders shaky as you search into his tear stained face. you offer him the softest look you could give, letting him know that if you’re gonna be here until the sun comes up just talking, so be it.
“i didn’t want you to leave— i thought,, i thought if i ever said anything, you’d think im weak” his lips quiver as he utter the last of his words before a single tear spills over down his cheek. his hand reaches up to wipe over his nose, his slender fingers almost covering the entirety of his face.
you know how bad farleigh struggles with the way the cattons treat him, and how they always disregard it all if he even dare to bring it up. everyone seems to think they’re this untouchable perfectly wealthy family but you know how small farleigh feels sitting among them. if anyone spends as much time around them and farleigh, they’d also see how they’re treating him like an outsider while desperately trying to make him feel like family. but you didn’t know it was getting to him this badly. you didn’t know it fucks with him to the point that ut gets this bad. you could just imagine how hard he tried to conceal his own insecurities while having you around, trying to make you believe that everything was fine.
“i thought if i just kept quiet you wouldn’t notice” farleigh pushed his words out from the strings of sobs restraining him to speak as he finally breaks down from all the blocks of boulder that keeps being dropped on him, weighing him down
“im sorry—” now it’s your turn to say these two words to him, pulling him down towards you into a hug, your fingers sprawled out across his back, letting him rest his head in the crook of your neck as he cries.
“—im sorry that im too selfish to notice” you cant help but sob out into his shoulder, your hands pulling at the fabric on his back. he’s crummed up into you, as the both of you just sat there by the window, listening to the sounds of water droplets tapping at the glass.
as he pulls away, he moves so he could look into your eyes, your fingers cupping his jaw as it’s your turn to wipe his cheeks with your thumbs. trailing your eyes over each of his features, taking in every details on his face, from his long lashes to his tiny freckles. closing in the mere inches in between you, you place your lips against his delicately, kissing at his bottom lips. farleigh closes his eyes as he returns the kiss, soft and gentle, as you slowly move in a rhythm. it’s been so long since he last kissed you, and he’d only realise how much he misses sharing your warmths in a kiss, how much he misses just kissing away all the doubts you have deep within.
when you slowly pull away you feel his hands gripping on your waist as he moves forward to catch your lips again, into another kiss. he feels like it wasn’t enough for him, he wanted to stay like this forever if he could. caressing his jaw, you lean back into the kiss as you hear him hum and continue to move his lips against yours as if he never stopped kissing you since your first kiss.
pushing him away by his chest, you had to take a breath as soft giggles leave your lips looking at his swollen ones. both from crying, and also kissing you like he hasn’t for years. he can’t help but let out a few chuckles too, your pained smile radiates warmth off his heart, melting it all over again.
“teach me how to love you properly” he starts, pulling at the blanket to peel it off of him and placing it around you again.
knowing that farleigh barely ever felt love from his own family, let alone be shown how it actually is to be loved, it’s only logical that the things he did for you, and the love he showed you, was the only thing he knew of love. and to compare to the scraps he receives in this house, the love that farleigh has ever showed you was everything in this world for him, and probably beyond the kind of love he could ever imagined.
“i will”
you promise, as you’re willing to fix this over and over again knowing that you’d also be fixing him, who’s been broken since the day he was born. if anyone else leaves when the only thing he seeks for is love, let you be his shelter.
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taglist: @flipsconhelado @r4vn @love-me-pls @radioloom @farleighlover @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @juniperhasfallen @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @inglourious-imagines @aracade
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jean-meowreau · 3 days ago
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Ohhh maybe something jerejean for jeans birthday???? - @sirfatcat-mccatterson
Jeremy quietly clears his throat.
Jean grimaces and peeks open a single eye, directing all of his nastiness at Jeremy with one gray eye bursting with malice. "Quoi, Jérémy?" he asks, voice raspy with sleep. He shifts beneath his blanket onto his side, shivering and tucking the material up to his chin when it falls and exposes his chest.
He watches the blond nervously bite at his lip and shift on his feet. He sighs, and Jean closes his eyes to fall back asleep, when he hears, "Joyeaux Anniversaire," in shoddy French.
This time both eyes fly open to glare daggers at Jeremy. "Did you tell the others?"
"No. I know how you value your privacy," Jeremy says quietly, suddenly looking unsure of himself.
He sits up, wrapping the blanket tight around himself, before scowling as he asks, "How did you know? Was it Kevin?"
Jeremy shakes his head no. Jean perks his brow, prompting an answer.
"You remember that last weekend I went back to visit my family?"
"Yes," Jean grimaces. "You were very sad and quiet when you came back. It was annoying. I like your smile." Jeremy lights up at the words and Jean's scowl deepens. "Do not read into that."
"I'm illiterate!" Jeremy says quickly, and maybe a little too loud. He covers his mouth with his own hand on Jean's behalf.
"Why is your family important to this story?"
Jeremy shuffles around on his feet for a few seconds before quietly saying, "I have a trust fund."
"Okay?"
"And I am allowed to use my money however I want."
"Jeremy, you did not buy me something stupid, did you?"
"Well, I was going to buy you a car, and then as I was looking into transferring the title I found out you have a conservatorship and and anything I tried to give you would be automatically given to--"
"Do not say a name," Jean mutters. His voice is flat. He already knows. He does not wish to hear it aloud.
"So, I..." Jeremy shifts his weight between his feet a few more times before producing a file folder he'd been holding behind his back. He crosses the room and holds it out to Jean, who takes it while still glaring him down. "I bought... you."
Jean's face pales. He stares at the blank front of the manila folder, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind at once. He swallows thickly, fingers trembling as he picks at the edges of the folder. "You own me, now," he says quietly. Kevin said Jeremy was supposed to be good people. Maybe they had different definitions of what that meant.
"What? No, wait--" Jeremy laughs awkwardly. "Nobody owns you. I paid off your family's debt and you're a free man."
Jean furrows his brow, staring hard at the folder in his hands. "What is this?"
"Your medical history, birth certificate, and the deeds to some property in France and some property in West Virginia."
Jean frowns, picking at the corner of the folder. "Did they mention someone named Elodie?" he asks quietly.
"They said that's who the property is from. It's uhm-- it was a death transfer," Jeremy whispers.
Jean nods, staring still at the blank vaguely yellow paper holding every notation of his entire life up to this point. "I should thank you, shouldn't I?" he asks quietly.
Jeremy drops to his knees in front of where Jean is sitting at the edge of his bed, warm hands settling against his thighs right before his knees. "I don't want your gratitude. It's everything you deserve just to be yourself and live your life."
"Jeremy--"
"No. Your present will come later today. This just happened to be delivered this morning. Finish sleeping in and meet us downstairs for some protein pancakes and then we will go to the gym. Just you and me."
Jean nods shakily. "Can you ask if Cat will let me ride her bike?"
"You should ask her. She has something for you."
Jean narrows his eyes at Jeremy's smile. "You said you didn't tell anyone."
"I may be a liar. But it's only them - how else could I float a random pancake breakfast for you?"
"You're on thin ice," Jean mumbles. He reaches for the hem of Jeremy's shirt before he can leave the room, unable to make eye contact. But he tugs at the material twice before looking from the blond to the folder in his lap.
Jeremy smiles, taking the gratitude for what it was, before brushing his knuckles against Jean's cheekbone. "Anything for you." He doesn't tell Jean how pretty he looks flustered this way, much as he wants to. He instead leaves the room silently once he is released, smiling invitingly at Jean before he shuts the door.
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discordiansamba · 2 days ago
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it's an odd feeling, telling his nephew about himself.
but it is clear that the young man sitting across from iroh is not his nephew- as much as he might have zuko's face and body. even with the knowledge of his true self, he still treats him as a distant stranger- one that he must be deeply respectful of, but still a stranger. katara has kept him abreast of the situation, though he suspects there is something the young waterbender has been keeping to herself.
looking at lee, he suspects he can sense what it is.
he tells lee of zuko's agni kai.
he tells him what lead to it. lee looks surprised at zuko's outrage at the planned sacrifice of young soldiers. he is not sure he can blame him- he can only imagine what zuko's reputation is in the earth kingdom. to them he was only a banished prince, disloyal to his father and punished for it without knowing the exact reason why. he had chased the avatar with the intent of turning him over to his father, and then had helped conquer ba sing se.
iroh holds nothing back.
he tells lee of zuko. of how he let himself be redefined by his anger after the agni kai. but he also tells him that he helped the avatar escape pohuai stronghold, even if his reasons for doing so were less than pure. he tells them of their life as refugees. he tells them of zuko's choice under lake laogai, when he freed appa.
he tells him of how he chose to ally with his sister during the coup.
lee listens to him quietly- but it is like he is being told a story about another person. someone he's never met. when iroh is finished, lee exhales, as if he's been holding his breath all this time. it has been some time since iroh started speaking, but there is still steam rising from lee's cup.
"he wasn't happy," lee says, "-was he?"
"no," iroh admits, "-not for a long time. not since his mother disappeared."
lee cannot meet his eyes. he opens his mouth and shuts it, like there is something he wishes to say, but cannot manage. iroh sighs, and gives him his word as fire lord that whatever he wishes to say to him, he can say it without consequence. lee takes in a deep breath, and slowly lets it out.
"i don't know," he admits, "-if I want to go back."
and there it is, out in the open.
it would not be the first child iroh has lost to ba sing se. this is perhaps a kinder way to lose one. zuko would not be himself, but he could be happy there. they will have to deal with lan-wei and azula, but if that is the path he wishes to choose... then iroh will support it. he asks him only to think about it before he makes his choice.
deep down, he has wondered if a distant promise of happiness was what finally made zuko surrender.
"lady mai tells me this is the royal family's personal villa," lee says after a moment, "-but I don't know this place. I've never been here before, but there are portraits all over the place of someone who looks just like me. i can't get comfortable here."
"...I think I need to go home. to ba sing se."
"and if you go," iroh asks, "-will you be able to make up your mind?"
lee nods. iroh heaves a sigh. in truth, he does not want to let him go. but his nephew must make his own decisions. he is eighteen now. nearly an adult. the last time iroh tried to force him into seeing things his way, it did not end as he'd hoped. not for himself- nor for zuko.
"then go," iroh says, "-one way or another, you will find the answers you seek there."
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joyridingmp3 · 1 year ago
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wish I had money to see a nutritionist or someone who has information about food
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bunnihearted · 1 month ago
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🫖🐭☁️🍚
#so i did ​meet my old friend from years ago yesterday. i was sooooo nervous omgggg. and i was waiting outside the café we agreed on#and then saw them walk in and i was like omgggg. the anxiety... but then i gathered courage and walked towards it and thry saw me thru the#window and came out and immediately hugged me. then they were like 'omg i've been so nervous. even more than before like a date!!'#so that made me relax a bit. i feel like i dont really fully estimate what i mean to them. maybe they care about me as well haha !!#then we just got our stuff and i chose a smoothie and was ready to pay but they just got it with their stuff (they work at this chain so#they got a discount). i feel so so bad & anxious when someone else pays for me. like i feel like a burden#but i asked twice if i should send them money for it and they were like no that's fine. so i had to tell myself to just shut up abt it 🥲#bc if u keep asking u make it into a thing and make them uncomfortable etc. so i really appreciated that and it was nice even if i felt bad#but yeah then we just sat down and talked. and it was so much easier to talk to them than i had been worried abt#like it flew nicely and yeah.. i feel like i forgot a lot abt them. like they're good at conversating. so they kept it going & even if i was#awkward it was fine for them. i did however get swept up in my own anxiety so as they asked me questions i answered#but then was too whirlwindy so i didnt really ask as much back and there were things i wanted to ask but didnt :')))#then they had cards and a card game with them. so we played for a bit too. and it was a lot of fun!!! (i was anxious and kinda slow lmao#bc when i dont know smth or the rules etc already my brain stops working so yeah.. even if it was simple games i was like um um what do i do#felt stupid but yeah again they didnt do anyhing to contribute to me feeling stupid but i still felt slow >.<#but i still thought that was so much fun. i wanna do more of that T-T like yeah...that was nice#then we took a lil longer walk to a bus stop before hastily said goodbye bc the busses came T-T#it was really really really nice tho. i have missed them a lot#and i didnt .. think we would ever see eachother again. i really didnt think this could happen#im so glad i somehow got brave enough to message them and im so so glad they wanted to see me too#i cant help but wish i could go back to when we were younger#and we spent every day in school together and messaged during the days and evenings and spent sm time together#when we went into the city like several times a week and took long walks. ahh... well. im glad we got to have those moments#& idk what will happen now. i really really want to see them again. even if we'll never be that close friends again i'd *wish* that we could#still be in touch. but im so bad at replying which doesnt go over great with them.. i'll try my best to reply quicker to them#*if* they message me. sadly i cant erase my avpd but i'll try my best to reply faster if and when they message)#they also complimented my sweater i was wearing (which is my fav sweater) !!!! and yeah.. they looked so cool. which they always have#and i kept thinking abt how nice their eye makeup was (i was too shy to compliment it tho bc im really bad at like 'nice' affectionate and#anything feeling related. like im so bad... so i couldnt say anything </3)#ugh it was just so nice to sit and talk with them. im so glad i went despite my fears. bc this was so good and nice :')))
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year ago
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The way that the sun hits leaves and clouds. I feel like I could watch the colors change forever. If I could slow down for that long.
#i keep forgetting a have a deck now. i can go outside and sit there#im doing that now. sitting in the corner of a deck full of empty chairs. staring up at a big pine tree where the sun is striking it gold#at the top. i like how thr light hits the needles. if the sky was black it would look like its on fire#theres a tree outside my bedroom window too. in the morning. after the sunrises it catches thr light and refelcts the most perfect shade#of green. the kind of green that flutters translucent like youre looking up from the bottom of a pool. the light the light its all about#the sun. everything everything is about the sun. when i start my project I'll be focused on understanding how organisms catch the light bc#its so incredible and complicated it would make my chest swell to bursting if there wasnt an empty bleeding wound in my gut. a#metaphorical wound of course. i dunno. its just difficult bc right now my mood is inflated by hormones. not even that much i think I'm#just at what shoulf be a normal level of happiness so i can be slow for a minute. but just a minute bc i kno it won't last long#sorry i cant shut the fuck up when im like this but i dunno i just feel like i havr to document these ephemeral moments before they're gone#its just difficult when you kno the world is so full of beautiful things but 95% of the time your eyes are too clouded to see it#everyone tells me i work too much but i feel like im just staring off into space being miserable 60% of the time. ive just done so much#damage over the past few years im coming into a new lab as damaged goods. ive got an albatross around my neck in thr form of data i#collected so self destructively that the idea of having anything to do with its publication makes me hate myself. everytime someone tells#me good job on collecting so so so much data it feels like they're congratulating me for breaking something within myself. like i slit my#wrists and bled out on a lab bench and theyre saying good job and theyre excited for me and i have to grin and bear it and pretend im#excited too. but im not bc ive burned everything inside me to ash. so when im elevated enough to be distracted by the clouds and trees it#feels like healing. like seeing angels. beautiful ephemeral beams of light. i wish i could slow down enough to watch them. but now thr sun#is hitting the horizon and the sky is going gradually dark and i should go inside. bc i have many things to do in the morning. so that's#what ill do. and ill try to get more thsn 6hrs of sleep but its hard when your body is vibrating over with energy#but at least i dont feel tired in the morning. something in my head must be on fire#unrelated#hm i should maybe add a tw to this#tw self injury#but its the kind thst makes u good at ur Job. its the kind ppl reward. so they don't understand when u say its destroying ur life#but im trying to get better. i say as i gear up for an insane semester lol but i do mean it
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tekka-dan · 5 days ago
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Hello,
I realize that I haven’t really been “here” for roughly an entire year now. My last “me” post was right before coming into 2024.
In light of the recent election as of 2024–I was starkly reminded of my descent into madness, anger, bitterness and concern from the year 2016. I was still living at home with my parents, single and no kids. I thought the world as I knew it was coming to an end and I thought everyone I knew who voted for Trump weee backstabbing, bold faced liars; most of these people were my friends and it was disheartening to believe that if they supported someone like him but were playing cool to my face, who could I trust and believe in after all?
I disappeared from then and I found solace in the Naruto fandom, the only place I was able to quell my anger and hurt from the world and reality I was apart of. I will never take for granted the people I met during this time, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it for eternity: they saved my life.
Fast forward to 2024 and I am still single and living alone but this time it’s been 3 years since moving out and life is less hectic and different…but it’s better.
Most people don’t know that I entered into a relationship in August 2023 that was rushed and misaligned with everything I wanted and valued but I became desperate for partnership, acceptance and value. So I settled with someone who went on to teach me great lessons, mainly that you shouldn’t rush connections for anyone or any reason. I finally departed from that relationship as of September 2024 and slowly my world has come back into full bloom again, I’m not seeing everything in gray scale or feeling like an outsider looking in. I’m apart of my own life. I became my own main character.
That said, I also have been stable with my career for over a year now and this has allowed me to have fun money and take vacations! I recently visited Washington DC on a whim and I just so happened to be there before and after the US Election of 2024. Despite the bustling of the world on tv news and social medias; the home of where the President resides is actually fairly quaint and quiet. Many people didn’t voice their concerns or opinions about the election, many of them seemed to understand that this is just how the world works and we will have to fall in line. All that being said, I learned plenty about myself while on this trip and about life in general.
Having emotional intelligence will always save your life. No matter what situations you face or endure, even overcome, staying sharp and remaining emotionally adept is key. Nobody stormed the White House nor the Capital. People just slung their briefcases from one shoulder to the next and stood in line for the next approaching metro.
Life really does go on.
I wanted to share some pictures I had taken while on my 4 day vacation. I like these the most because the rest are pictures of the museums I went to, lol. However these are the only pictures I’ve taken of myself since January 2024.
Being in that rotten relationship really took so much out of me, it took away my light and my enthusiasm for the world and everything around me. I wasn’t taking pictures of myself or anyone else; I was just existing from one day to the next.
To see these photos and my sheer happiness and I can actively say I AM happy with my life and the way it’s going currently—feels like a milestone I actually want to commemorate, so I’m sharing them.
As this year comes to an end, please stay safe and golden. The election was sorely disappointing for a country as a whole but nonetheless we will persevere. We always have. Thanks for reading!
#me#personal#long post#selfie#my face#I haven’t felt happy or beautiful for an entire year#I wish I could explain what codependency depression does to you#your entire life flashes you by but you feel like your only purpose is to serve someone else#you just fade into the background of your own life#then you look up and it’s been an entire year and you have pictures from the previous year that you took and it feels like yesterday#but not in a good way#because it feels like while time has come and gone you have remained the same#frozen in time and in place#but because you were so desperate to have what everyone else has you settle for the first thing that comes along#and then you feel guilty and ashamed when it doesn’t work out because nothing ever works out for you#or so you tell yourself#but then one day you decide I don’t care what other people think or what other people have anymore#I want to live#this is my life and I only get one chance and screw being everyone’s else’s something#screw wanting the traditional life that people shove down your throat#you’re only 28 years old and you don’t have kids and you have been able to support yourself for almost 4 years#yet you feel like you owe the world something when really you owe nothing to anyone but you#you forgive yourself for not being where you THOUGHT you wanted to be and live life for YOU#you sit on your balcony reading horror stories and go to bed wrapped in pokemon sheets and you don’t care about feeling like a grown woman#you just want to be YOU and happy#you realize the apartment you’ve had for 4 years has been a space you kept wanting to accommodate other people in#so you made it a place that THEY would feel comfortable in#your home wasn’t even your home but because you thought you owed everyone else something#you didn’t notice#until the day you realize that your life is passing you by and you’re too busy feeling guilty for not being where everyone else is
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tjerra14 · 2 years ago
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Sorting through some stuff and came across this one again. It’s going to be six years in July but I guess it never really stops hurting.
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freebooter4ever · 2 years ago
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This is 1000% random but came to mind regarding the duck movie. I sometimies watch movies without sound if I think they might ~suck~ like that... so just a tip if you want to see it but not sort of experience it :D hahahha
heh, well. ive already seen it fully so the damage has been done. i bought it even, thinking i would want to rewatch it, but i really REALLY dont think i will. ever. i have watched a LOT of bad movies for my stupid infatuations over the years so honestly im used to it.
#Im not gonna pretend like it doesnt hurt a little seeing the kind of movie joe is ok with attaching his name to#I was vaguely aware he was conservative but i will admit i didnt really have it shoved in my face until this#It reminds me of one of my closest friends here who just...we meshed in a that natural immediate connection way#And one day we were sitting in the getty villa just chatting and i was talking about the amazing documentary the Janes on h * b *o#And he just casually threw out there that he was pro life and anti abortion and he kind of wished he could force a woman#To carry his child against her wishes#He insinuated that when he was younger he got someone pregnant on accident and she refused to have the baby and got an abortion#And he felt it was a violation of his rights not to be able to force her to have a baby#And let me tell you i was like a slap in the face#Like that is...it is so discounting a womans right to her own body#It was chilling to hear a guy who i vibed with so well talk about a woman as if she's just a body and nothing else#I personally have been lucky or ugly enough that its never been an issue i have no idea how i feel about it#I mean my grandma WAS catholic and that seeps down no matter how lapsed i am#So i dont think i would have an abortion? But like i said i really genuinely like kids and in an ideal world would want that#But god im in my thirties now and still not financially stable enough to support a child i have no idea what i would have done#Had i gotten pregnant on accident#I spent most of my twenties recovering from an abusive relationship and not letting men touch me so it was never a question#Im just saying its a womans body its her life pregnancy is simple for some but for others its a life altering experience#It should be her right to choose :( and i wish men respected women enough considered them human enough to recognize that#If the shoe were on the other foot what man would let a woman decide that he must be pregant for 9 months#ALSO for fucks sake women shouldnt have to be practically celibate like i was just to prevent any accident from happening#Also also it is so fucked up that the same people who are pro life are also the bob types - skeptical of adoption#Like this is how you get unwanted kids in the world and take it from me that kids childhood is really really weird#Like knowing from a young age that you are what ruined your mothers life????? Fucking weird man i dont think i will ever process it#Especially being a woman now and recognizing that yeah i kinda did ruin my mothers life but it was neither of our fault#It was the pressure of society and people Trying To Do What They Are Supposed To#Meanwhile my dad was the I Could Never Love Other Peoples Kids and I Hate All Children That Arent My Own type#So yeah i guess i have a lot of negative feelings about this movie after all#Anyway it might have completely killed the joe infatuation LOL probably for the best#Dont even get me started on the blink or you miss it homophobia with bonus weird almost racism in the therapy scenes
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asjjohnson · 8 months ago
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I was numbly scrolling through job listings and happened across the kindest-sounding job page I've ever seen. Saying there was no requirements at all (besides being happy or something), that they'll walk you through everything and train you. And that they're happy to hire anyone, no matter how young or old, whether it's your first job or you want a little extra money on the side or you're retired and want something to do.
The feel of the wording was like, "Aww poor baby—here, have a blanket and a hot chocolate and I'll make everything better." While the job listings I usually see are like, "Working nights, weekends, and holidays are required. And if you don't know these five obscure things by heart and have eight years of experience, don't even bother applying."
And the place is close enough that I should be able to get there easily on rollerblades (if I can finally get use to the pair I bought awhile ago).
...But then I'd mentioned to my dad that I might apply for a job, and he reminded me that I hadn't wanted to be tied up during the day of the eclipse, and suggested I wait to see if it's still available after that.
...And then I checked my desk calendar and saw several other days I need to be free for scattered throughout the next two months.
...I'm beginning to think I'm just not cut out for working.
#asj just being silly#I forget if I'd posted about the time I applied for a barista job or if that was before joining tumblr.#The only thing I could think to put on the application was that I lived around the corner so I could come any time.#I assumed I wouldn't be called. So the belated call for an interview took me by complete surprise.#And I got there a few minutes early as is proper and was told to just sit at any table and wait.#And he was so late and I had no idea what he looked like and then someone walked in the front door and asked me if I was someone else#and I didn't know if that was him or someone on a blind date or what. But then he got my name right but I was already panicking by then#And he was yawning because the employee I'd talked to called him and woke him up. ...And I felt so inadequate talking to him.#I think the main reason I didn't get that job was because I was very noticeably nervous.#I couldn't bring myself to smile naturally or sound happy after sitting there so long. He'd mentioned that. And also my age.#...But it was also the only time I've ever gotten to the interview stage so it was a step in the right direction?#There was the time I applied for an easy sounding job at the library that had perfect hours.#Days after putting in the application the Coronavirus reached my area and the library tossed all applications & shut down (for some time).#There was the time I thought about applying for a nice job at a weather station. Nice hours. ...alright drive. & I'd had 2 related classes.#I took too long thinking about it & trying to make my short resume look desirable. The listing disappeared before I submitted it.#I don't think I've ever made it past looking at the listing page for any web developer job.#I keep telling myself I'll read up on new practices and learn all these languages I hadn't learned. But I always lose motivation quickly.#I wish I took the two electronics classes I'd thought about in college. I was afraid of being the only girl.#...And I've always been nervous around walls.#But there's always work for electricians! And I really like playing with resisters and building circuits. ...Only time I got to was in HS.#And if nothing else I could finish the job the electricians left half done at my house years ago. They wouldn't return any of my calls.
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