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brunchable · 1 month ago

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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.

It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.

You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”

“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.

Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” “you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”

So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.

Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all.

“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.

“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.

You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.

By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.

And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?

As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.

With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion.

“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”

Or so you thought.

Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.

You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.

“Need help with that?”

“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.

Except...then you did.

You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.

You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

But it was. Oh, it absolutely was.

SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.

“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.

“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”

Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.

“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.

“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”

You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the “viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.

But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.

“Uh… hi�� I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.

“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”

Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!

But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”

As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.

I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.

The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.

Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—

You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.

But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.

You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.

A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.

You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.

Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.

You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?

With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.

“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.

And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”

You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.

The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.

But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.

As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.

“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.

× × × ×

Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.

It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.

You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?

Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.

You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.

Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.

You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.

“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”

“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.

But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment.

“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”

“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”

“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.

But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow.

“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.

You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten.

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.

Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”

Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.

By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.

And then… the grocery bag incident.

You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.

You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.

You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.

You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile.

“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.

He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.

“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.

“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”

A moment of silence.

“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”

Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion.

“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”

He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race.

“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”

Your soul left your body.

He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers.

“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.”

And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.

“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.

Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.

You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real.

You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.

Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.

You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.

× × × ×

It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.

The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.

“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”

You fumbled, nearly dropping the box.

“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.

The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.

“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”

You stammered, turning pink.

“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.

But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.

You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation.

“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.

“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”

But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.

“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”

Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.

“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”

“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.

You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.

“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”

You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke.

“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.

“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”

He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.

Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.

“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”

You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”

× × × ×

Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.

There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.

He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.

“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.

“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink.

“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.

“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”

He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”

“Oh no, really, I should—”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”

You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”

Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”

Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment.

“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”

You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”

He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.

“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.

“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”

Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table.

“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.

“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.

You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup.

“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming.

“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”

He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”

“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”

He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”

You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”

You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.

“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”

“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”

Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”

You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”

His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.

Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”

You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.

2K notes · View notes

makeitmingi · 2 months ago

Text

Snuggles and Cuddles

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Fluff

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Girlfriend!Reader, Boyfriend!Yunho, Mingi (Cameo)

Summary: Yunho has the best alcohol tolerance amongst his friends. However, after a night out, you didn't think that his best friend would bring him home, absolutely wasted. Seems like alcohol unlocks a whole new side of your boyfriend you didn't know existed

Word count: 3.4K

Warning(s): Alcohol consumption, drunk-ness, y/n babies Yunho and teases him but all in good fun

A/N: I started this, not really having idol Yunho in mind. But I guess with Puddeongi, it means he's an idol right? Idk, I mainly wanted Yunho and Puddeongi in this story lmao

Tonight was finally a night to relax. No late night meetings, no work assignments to complete, nothing. So you put a movie on, turned off the light and nestled a tub of ice cream in your hand, enjoying your night off to the max.

"What time in Yunho getting back?" You thought out loud, checking your phone. Before knowing you had a night off, Yunho had made plans to go out for drinks with his friends.

Of course, your ever loving, sweet boyfriend immediately wanted to cancel to spend time with you when he found out but you insisted he go.

'Don't wait up for me, lovey~ I might be back late or go crash at Mingi's. - your Yuyu'

The last text he sent you was at 9:30pm. It was approaching midnight but you were not that worried. Yunho could handle himself.

*DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG*

"Ah! Coming." You put your bowl down and shuffled over to the door, wondering who was ringing your doorbell so incessantly. When you opened it, you were surprised to see Mingi standing there, struggling to hold up your drunk boyfriend. Mingi's face brightened up when he saw you there.

"(y/n)! Thank god." Mingi let out a sigh of relief. You blinked, taking in the scene before you. You've never seen Yunho so intoxicated before, he usually holds his liquor well compared to his friends.

"I-Is he okay?" You were unsure of what to do. Yunho's face was so flushed and eyes were closed.

"He's fine. Just had a little bit too much to drink. I wanted to bring him back to mine but he insisted on coming back here." He sighed.

"Oh... Thanks for bringing him home, Mingi. Are you sober enough to go home on your own? You can crash here if you'd like." You offered with a soft smile.

"I'm fine. One drunk is enough to keep you busy." He chuckled, stumbling a little as Yunho swayed.

"Alright, let me know when you get back." You said. Mingi nodded and you went over to help him, softly cupping Yunho's cheeks.

"(y/n)!" Yunho suddenly exclaimed loudly, making you and Mingi jump. He opened his arms and threw them around you, causing you to almost fall over. Luckily you held the wall.

"Yah. Don't hurt her." Mingi slapped the back of Yunho's head.

"Owww, don't hit me." Yunho pouted, nuzzling his head against yours affectionately. You patted his back to comfort him. It wasn't easy to balance yourself when your giant boyfriend decided to put almost his entire weight on you.

"I've got it, Mingi. Thanks again." You giggled. Mingi nodded and patted Yunho's head.

"Don't give (y/n) a hard time, Yunho ah." Mingi chided before leaving. You closed the door with your foot and guided Yunho in. There was no choice but to put him on the couch first.

"Yunho, are you alright?" You asked. He maintained his pout and shook his head.

"What's wrong?" You went closer to him. He didn't say anything but hugged your waist, burying his face against your stomach.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. Does your stomach not feel good?" You asked, running your fingers through his hair lovingly. His face and body was so warm compared to yours.

"My head hurts~" He whined.

"Alright, let me get you some medicine." You wanted to pull away but he only tightened his grip on you, shaking his head again.

"Silly, the medicine will make your head feel better." You chuckled.

"Noooooo~ I just want you~" He whined. You let out a soft sigh, unsure of what to do with a drunk, whiny Yunho. But he was honestly so cute. Normally, he was always such a gentle giant, a golden retriever, but he was never this needy and clingy with you. It was a whole new side of him that was so endearing.

"Yuyu, why don't we change and go to bed? We can cuddle then go to sleep." You offered. He looked up at you with excitement and nodded his head.

"Come on." You held your hand out to him, still supporting his body as you entered your shared bedroom to go to the bathroom.

"Sit here." You closed the toilet cover and let Yunho sit there while you grabbed his clothes.

"Where are you going?" Yunho asked but still stayed in his spot.

"I just went to get you some clean clothes, babe. It'll be more comfortable for you." You replied, putting the shirt and pajama pants by the sink. Yunho tilted his head.

"Arms up." You instructed. Yunho obediently raised his arms as you removed his shirt and helped him into one of his home shirts. It was hard when it came to changing his pants since his legs were so long, it was a struggle but you managed to do it.

"You're pretty." He giggled as he watched you wet a cloth with a dreamy grin on his face.

"Thanks?" You chuckled and wrung the cloth, proceeding to wipe his face gently since you didn't want to risk him showering and possibly falling or hurting himself in any way.

"I want to hold you." He said, arms reaching out for you like a sad child.

"I promise you can later, hmm?" You stroked his head. You rinsed the cloth and wiped his arms.

"This should cool you down." You carefully wiped his neck as well, which made him laugh and squirm. Yunho's laugh was always so infectious to you, the way he throws his head back to laugh.

"That tickles! And it's cold~." He giggled. You laughed along with him and grabbed his mouthwash.

"Do you think you can you rinse your mouth?" You asked since you didn't know how to help someone brush their teeth. He looked at you then the mouthwash, thinking for a while before nodding his head slowly. You had a watchful eye as he gargled the mouthwash.

"Spit." You instructed and he did. Thankfully he didn't swallow it.

"Good job, Yuyu." You reached up to pat his head. Yunho grinned bashfully at your praise and threw his arms around you.

"You smell nice~ So nice~" He buried his face against your shoulder, making you melt. You were wearing Yunho's shirt as a dress since he was so tall, like you always did. So you basically smelt like him.

"Let's get you to bed." You moved him out of the bathroom and to the bed.

"Here, I'll let you hug Puddeongi tonight." You helped him under the covers, grabbing Puddeongi and putting in into his arms.

"Hi, Puddeongi." He shyly waved to the plush as it stared back at him. He giggled and patted the plush's tummy. You had a stifle a laugh. You were usually the one to hug Puddeongi to sleep since Yunho preferred to hug you. Sometimes, he would even steal Puddeongi so you had 'no choice' but to hug him instead.

"Wait! Where are you going?!" Yunho genuinely looked like he was going to cry when he felt you pulling away from him. You stroked his hand to calm him down.

"I'm just gonna clear up, Yun. I'll be right back, I promise." You squeezed his hand.

"Promise?" Yunho pouted sadly and it did tug at your heart a little, seeing him so sad. You nodded your head.

"Okay..." He reluctantly let go of your hand, letting you go clean up. You went out to the living to wash your dirty ice cream bowl and turn off the television.

"See? I told you I'll be back, Yunho." You re-entered the room, seeing Yunho sulk, his cheek squished against Puddeongi's body. But when he heard you, he immediately perked up with a bright smile.

However, you didn't come back to bed immediately. Instead, you went to the bathroom to grab his dirty clothes that were on the ground and threw them into the laundry basket. You didn't want you or Yunho to trip while coming in. But you made sure you were in Yunho's view the entire time.

"(y/n)... Do you have a boyfriend?" Yunho asked as you moved around the room. From your position at the sink, you turned to see him sitting up, Puddeongi in his lap.

"Why is he so cute?" You mumbled to yourself, taking your phone to quickly snap a picture of him.

"I do." You nodded with a chuckle, washing your own face since you did sweat a little while helping Yunho. Yunho appreciated that you kept the door to the bathroom open so he could see you.

"Your boyfriend is very lucky to have you. You're so pretty." He replied with a serious tone.

"Yun, you are my boyfriend." You reminded.

"Oh... I am? Then I am very lucky to have you." He smiled, letting out a big sigh of relief. You laughed at him and hung the rinsed cloth up to dry then crawled into bed with him.

"Comfy?" You pulled the covers up after he laid back down, Puddeongi squished against his cheek. He nodded his head.

"Goodnight, Yun. I love you." You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. But before you could turn around to turn off the bedside lamp, you noticed the pout and frown that was still on his face as he looked up at you.

"What's wrong? Does your head still hurt? Or your tummy?" You asked worriedly, stroking his head. Since he didn't let you get the medicine for him earlier, you didn't want him to be in pain.

"I want to hold you. Just now, you promised I could." He said with disappointment.

"I know, Yun. I'm just turning off the light and we can cuddle after." You smiled, turning off the light.

"I'm right here, okay?" You laced fingers with him. Yunho somehow managed to put Puddeongi on top of you to hug both you the plush in his arms.

"Hmm~ Hmm~" You heard Yunho making little noises.

"What's up, Yun?" You asked.

"Nothing. I'm just happy. I have you~ Puddeongi~" He said, kicking his feet with excitement. You were sure that if he was really a golden retriever, his tail would be thumping against the bed in happiness.

"Alright, happy boy. Go to sleep." You reached up to pat his head. You changed your position, letting Yunho hug your waist alongside Puddeongi, so he could lay his head on your chest to be the small spoon. His face and body were still a little warm but you liked having him close to you.

"Your heartbeat is pretty." He mumbled. Now you knew he was spewing nonsense. You giggled and stroked his head to try to lull him to sleep.

*BZZ BZZ*

"Hang on." You moved away to check your phone, unaware that Yunho was looking over your shoulder with a frown on his face.

'Hey, sorry I forgot to shoot you a text. I guess I fell asleep on the couch the moment I got back, didn't even have time to remove my shoes. But I'm back safe. - Mingi'

"Your phone light makes my head hurt. Stop." He whined, burying his face against your back.

"It's just your best friend telling me he's home safe." You informed, sending a quick reply to Mingi to give him an update about Yunho too.

"Ugh! Why are you talking to other guys? You said I am your boyfriend!" He huffed angrily, showing his frustration. You turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. The room was dark but the light from your phone illuminated his face a little.

"Yun... He's your best friend. He brought you home safely, we should make sure he got home safe too." You spoke to him slowly. Yunho turned his nose up from you.

"You big baby." You rolled your eyes but put your phone down. You were actually a little worried that your phone hurt his head.

"Okay, you just cuddle Puddeongi tonight. Goodnight, Yun." You wished. But suddenly, Yunho glued himself to you.

"Am not a baby." He mumbled against your chest as he hugged you like before, sandwiching you between the bed and Puddeongi. You hummed to appease him.

"I love you." He murmured as he drifted off to sleep.

"Love you too." You kissed his head and joined Yunho in dreamland.

The next time you woke up, Yunho had rolled away from you, snuggling with Puddeongi. You smiled softly and brushed his fringe away from his face so it wouldn't bother him.

"Rest well." You whispered. You couldn't help it, grabbing your phone to take a picture. Seeing Yunho's face squished against Puddeongi, it was too cute not to take a pic. After that, you tucked your phone away and adjusted the blanket over him before leaving the bedroom to let him sleep more.

When Yunho reached over, he expected his hand to reach yours or at least, your body. He didn't expect the empty space.

"Baby???" He sat up, looking at the Puddeongi in his lap in confusion. Why was he hugging Puddeongi and not you? He winced as he felt the pounding in his head.

"God..." He groaned, falling forward. When he heard the door open, he sat back up immediately.

"(y/n)?!"

"Woah, woah. Slow down, big guy. Are you alright?" You blinked in surprise at his reaction. He seemed like he was about to leap into your arms or something.

"You were not here." He sulked.

"I know, I wanted you to sleep more. And I cooked you food, you're always hungry after a night of drinking." You replied, sitting down.

"Gosh, what happened last night...? My head hurts so bad." He groaned and fell forward, leaning his head on your shoulder. You reached up to try and massage his head, hopefully being able to alleviate some of his pain.

"You don't remember anything?" You asked. He shook his head.

"It's okay. Here, I brought you some hangover cure and ginger ale, it'll help your head and tum. You can take meds later if you need." You told him, retrieving what you brought in for him.

"Lifesaver." Yunho said, downing the hangover cure. His face scrunched up at the bitterness but he chased it with the ginger ale.

"H-How did I get home? A taxi?" He asked.

"Mingi brought you home. He said he was going to bring you back to his to crash but you insisted on being brought home." You smiled. Yunho frowned slightly, trying to remember what happened.

"I'm drawing blanks here. I guess I really overdid it last night. Thank you for taking care of me, sorry if I troubled you." He sighed.

"What are you saying? Don't apologise, it's no trouble at all. You always take care of me when I'm on my period, we take care of each other when we're sick. It's just what we do, hmm? So no need to thank me and no need to apologise." You stroked his cheek and he leaned into your touch.

"That's right." He smiled, lifting your hand to kiss the back of it.

"So you really don't get remember anything?" You checked. Yunho's eyes widened at your words, shaking his head slowly.

"I-I didn't do anything, did I? Oh my god, did I hurt you?!" Yunho's hands flew to cover his mouth as he moved back from you, as if he was really scared.

"No! No, not at all, Yun. You didn't hurt me. I trust that you would never hurt me, no matter how intoxicated." You smiled softly.

"Phew! Cause if I did, I'll never forgive myself. I'll pack up and leave now." He let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"Okay, calm down. You didn't hurt me, no need to pack up and go anywhere." You chuckled. He smiled and leaned over to give you a kiss to your forehead, he was really the sweetest.

"You were mighty adorable though. I've never seen you like that before in all our years of being together." You giggled. Yunho merely looked at you and blinked in confusion at your words. You took your phone out and showed him the pictures that you took of him with Puddeongi.

"Delete this!" He yelled, grasping the device, his ears and neck turning red in embarrassment.

"No way! You were so cute. You were all whiny and clingy, wanting to hold me the entire time, kept saying I was pretty. I even needed to remind you that my boyfriend was you." You said.

"Please, if you love me, delete this. And delete from your brain what happened last night." He begged.

"I love you and I'm keeping this. When I let you hug Puddeongi, you even went 'hi Puddeongi'." You imitated the cute wave he did.

"Please stop, I beg you." He buried his face in his hands.

"Alright, I'll stop. Let's go eat the ramen I cooked you before it gets cold and soggy." You patted his head. Yunho nodded and went to brush his teeth before coming out to the kitchen.

You won't tell him that he was jealous of you texting Mingi last night, he seemed embarrassed enough. But thinking about it again made you laugh to yourself.

"Wait, are you still laughing at me?" Yunho stopped in his tracks when he caught you laughing quietly on your own. You lied and shook your head, putting the bowl of spicy ramen in front of him then grabbing him chopsticks and a spoon.

"Mmm, that hits the spot." He sighed blissfully after taking a sip of the salty, spicy soup. Thankfully it distracted him from how you were laughing at him.

"Are you eating, baby? You can have some." Yunho held his bowl out to you.

"It's alright, I had toast and coffee earlier when I woke up." You told him with a smile, placing your hand over his.

"That was great, just what I needed. Thank you, baby." Yunho leaned over to give you a kiss. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, Yunho took the opportunity to pull you down into his lap.

"Can we spend the rest of the day in bed?" He asked, resting his cheek against your shoulder.

"Of course, you might want to shower first though. I only wiped your face, neck and arms when you came back." You informed.

"Are you telling me I smell?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, even with a change of clothes, you did spend the night out in a public place and you kind of smell like day-old booze." You wrinkled your nose. Yunho rolled his eyes but leaned in to nuzzle his cheek against yours lovingly. While you cleaned up and did the dishes, Yunho went to take a shower.

"Ah, that was great." Yunho sighed blissfully as he stepped out of the bathroom. You sat up on the bed, putting your phone aside.

"Come." You patted the space in front of you. Yunho happily climbed over to you, leaning down as you helped him towel dry his hair like you always do.

"You have to comb your hair. It's always so frizzy and poofy." You giggled as you grabbed his brush.

"I know, that's why I have you to do it for me." He turned around to smile at you.

"All done." You went to put the towel back in the bathroom. When you came out, you saw Yunho laying there with his arm around Puddeongi as he checked his phone.

"Look at you being best friends after I let you spend the night holding him." You teased. Yunho shot you a glare and shoved Puddeongi back into your arms.

"Come here. I would rather hug you." He opened his arms and you slotted yourself in them. Yunho always insisted that you fit so perfectly in his arms. You hugged Puddeongi tight, he smelt like a mix of you and Yunho now.

"So, why did you and the boys drink so much last night? I mean, you've never gotten so drunk before." You asked.

"Oh... I don't know, I can't remember." Yunho shook his head. You hummed. You didn't know that Yunho was lying, he knew why the boys kept pouring him drinks last night.

It had to do with the small velvet ring box that was hidden in the pocket of his blazer in the closet.

917 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 9 days ago

Text

You're the One - 1

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 2,100

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Having a cool dad like Bucky is a blessing. For Jade, it definitely is. Her friends, after meeting him, always say things like: “He’s so cool!” “He’s so funny!” or even, “Can we trade dads?”

Jade could only roll her eyes. Sure, Bucky’s pretty chill and easygoing about most things, but there’s one thing that drives her crazy.

It’s not a big deal for her, but for Bucky, it’s a huge one.

Romantic movies, especially where the bride runs away from the wedding.

That’s why their house only has action and mystery movies.

But tonight, Jade wants to watch one of her favorite genres at home. Why? Because their home theater is amazing, a special project Bucky built for his wife and daughter.

Unfortunately, her dad’s silly rules mean she can’t enjoy it.

But tonight is different. He’s heading out to pick up her mom from the airport.

Jade is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for her dad to leave.

In the hallway, Bucky stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt while whistling a tune. Through the mirror, he notices Jade watching him.

“Don’t have a house party,” he says, pointing at her with mock sternness.

“Yes, yes,” Jade replies, hopping off the counter. She walks over, pushes him toward the garage, and tosses him the car keys. “Go pick up Mom.”

Bucky chuckles as he stumbles slightly. “Alright, alright. You’re awfully eager to get rid of me tonight.”

She smirks. “I just know how much you missed her. You two will probably go straight to dinner or something. Now, go!”

Bucky shakes his head, amused, and heads to the car. But as he opens the door, he suddenly stops.

“Wait… my wallet.”

He heads back inside.

“Jade?” he calls out. No response.

On the counter, his wallet sits neatly next to the fruit bowl. Grabbing it, he pauses. The house feels… too quiet.

“Jade!” he calls again, louder this time.

Still no answer. Frowning, he checks the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs. Knocking on her bedroom door, he’s met with silence.

“Did she sneak out?” he mutters. That didn’t seem like her.

Then it hits him. The home theater.

As he walks back downstairs, the faint smell of buttered popcorn wafts through the air. His suspicions confirmed, he pushes open the theater door.

“Jade!”

Startled, Jade nearly drops her popcorn but manages to save most of it. “Dad!”

She fumbles for the remote, pausing the movie and quickly turning off the screen. Her heart races—the scene on display had been the bride in a wedding dress.

Bucky strides forward, picks up the DVD case, and reads the summary. With a single glance, he knows exactly what it is.

“Jade, how many times have I told you? No romantic movies like this in my house.”

“But why?” she groans, flopping dramatically into her seat. “We have the best home theater! I just want to use it!”

Bucky crosses his arms, his expression stern. “Because they’re predictable. It’s always the same: someone’s crying, someone’s chasing, someone’s kissing. And the bride always runs away for some cliché reason.”

Jade huffs. “Why do you hate them so much? It’s not like Mom ever ran away from a wedding or something.”

The moment she says it, Bucky freezes.

Jade stares at him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. Wait—she did, didn’t she?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He turns and heads toward the door, but Jade jumps up, running after him.

She wraps her arms around his waist, trying to hold him back. “Dad! Is it true? Did Mom run away? How did you chase her? Why am I just finding out now?”

“I’m going to be late picking her up,” Bucky mutters, dragging himself forward with his daughter clinging to him like a koala.

Then, a notification chimes.

Both father and daughter glance at the phone on the counter.

The family group chat reads: “The flight’s delayed three hours. 😔”

Jade grabs the phone and shows him. “Look, Dad! Mom won’t be here for another five hours.”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please tell me!” Jade begs. “I promise I won’t watch the movie. This is way more interesting. Why did Mom run?”

Bucky turns to her with a serious expression. “She didn’t run away.”

“Huh?” Jade tilts her head, confused.

“She didn’t run away,” Bucky repeats. “I kidnapped her on her wedding day.”

The room goes silent.

Jade’s jaw drops as she points an accusing finger at him. “You… you stole Mom from someone else?! You're the bad guy!"

Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes her hand down. “If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had a happy life.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a long drink.

Jade, now buzzing with excitement, follows him like a shadow. “Tell me! Tell me everything! How did that happen?”

Seeing her curiosity, Bucky sighs and gestures to the couch. “Fine. Sit down. I’m only telling this story once.”

Jade darts to the couch, grabs her popcorn, and settles in, eyes wide with anticipation.

Bucky clears his throat and leans back against the counter. “Alright. It was 15 years ago…”

💍🔔💍🔔

15 Years Ago

The changing room in the chapel buzzes with excitement. Your bridesmaids gather near the mirrors, giggling and chatting as they adjust their dresses and share jokes.

“Oh, did you see the flower arrangements?” one of them exclaims. “The Jordans really went all out!”

“They’re stunning. Just like this wedding,” another adds with a dreamy sigh.

Their energy fills the room, but you sit quietly in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The white wedding dress you’re wearing is nothing short of a masterpiece. Designed by a world-renowned fashion house, it fits you perfectly, every intricate detail exuding elegance. The lace, the pearls, the veil—it’s flawless.

But it doesn’t feel like yours.

“You’re so lucky,” one of the bridesmaids says, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “Everything about this wedding is perfect. And Clark? He’s an absolute catch. You’re living a dream!”

You force a smile, your lips twitching just enough to look convincing. “Yeah… lucky,” you reply softly, though your voice lacks conviction.

In truth, you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. This wedding isn’t about love; it’s about business. The Jordans—one of the wealthiest families in the country—are securing an alliance with your family. It’s an arrangement, a deal sealed with vows.

It’s not that you dislike Clark. He’s kind, patient, and honest—a good man by anyone’s standards. The wedding is happening with your consent, after all.

Still, your heart feels heavy, uneasy. Marriage is forever. And with Clark? The problem is, you don’t love him. Not yet.

You hope, maybe after the wedding, the love will grow. Maybe with time, you’ll learn to love each other deeply. But right now, your heart is stuck in the past.

It doesn’t belong to Clark—it belongs to someone else.

Bucky.

The thought of his name makes your breath hitch. That wild man who once turned your world upside down. He was nothing like the calm, dependable Clark. Your parents couldn’t stand him, but you didn’t care. You chose him. For a while, you and Bucky were unshakable, inseparable—until life threw challenges your way, and the weight of it all broke you apart. He was the one who ended it, leaving you shattered.

Your gaze drifts to the window. You wonder where he is now. Is he happy? Did he achieve his dreams? Has he found someone else?

You shake your head and whisper to yourself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you try to push the thoughts away. It’s your wedding day. You should be focused on Clark, not your ex. You give yourself a light tap on the forehead. “Stop it,” you mutter.

But just as you’re about to take a deep breath, the door to the changing room bursts open with a loud bang.

Startled, you whip your head around, your eyes widening.

“Bucky?!”

There he is, standing in the doorway like he’s just stepped out of a different world. His leather jacket looks completely out of place among the pristine suits and elegant dresses. His dark jeans and worn boots carry the same rugged confidence you remember.

“What are you doing here?” you stammer, rising to your feet, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest.

He steps closer, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to steal the bride.”

Your breath catches, and your mind races. “Huh?” is all you manage to get out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he closes the distance between you. In one swift motion, he grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bucky!” you shriek, pounding your fists against his back. “Put me down! Are you insane?!”

He chuckles, his grip firm as he carries you toward the door. “A little, yeah. But you’re not staying here.”

Your bridesmaids are frozen in shock, their mouths agape. One finally breaks the silence with a panicked, “Somebody stop him!”

But no one moves. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of the moment, or maybe it’s the dangerous confidence in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, you find yourself being carried out of the room, your heart racing in a way that feels strangely familiar.

“Bucky!” you shout again, your voice laced with equal parts anger and panic. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” he replies smoothly, “and I am.”

As he strides down the hallway, you struggle to free yourself, but his grip doesn’t falter. Despite the chaos, there’s a part of you—a small, buried part—that feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.

And that terrifies you.

Join the taglist 💖💖💖

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

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@dexter99

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darkfictionjude · 4 months ago

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Ladies, gentlemen and other folk who see themselves outside those groups, please be advised! This is not for the faint of heart. TW: racism, sexism, bigotry, parental abuse, exploitation, alcoholism, smoking, swearing, sexually explicit content. Very much of the time period.

After a life of general obscurity, in 1938 you come out of hiding to star in the biggest production in Hollywood history. Hopefully, your own demons, those imagined and those very much real don't tear you apart before the closing scene!

Greer Monroe 🎭

Your co-star. With beginnings in comedy, he's trying to be seen as a serious actor. He's everything a person believes a leading man to be. 29 years old.

Preference: he's an actor, of course he's had gay sex men or women.

Magenta Wey 💎

Your other co-star. After a recent... scandal she's seeking to move past that event with a new role. A classic blonde bombshell. 30 25 years old.

Preference: women.

Jack Harlow🎙️

A singer. Wishes he could sing his own songs instead of giving the best ones to bigger artists. Handsome in his way, just not as flashy as those on the screen. 27 years old.

Preference: men.

Ashley Booker 📽️

The director. Hit it out of the park five years before and after a serious of failures, seeks to make a comeback. Everyone says Ash is good-looking, but Ash doesn't like the image in the mirror. 32 years old.

Preference: is partial to women but is curious about men.

You ✨

Your last name is Skylark. Do you want to be famous? Is it to fill the void inside? It's far too late to make anyone proud.

—————

Also if you could reblog that would help a lot :)

DEMO (08/2) | Spotify

Check out my other IFs: We Wretched Creatures, Excellent Cadavers

#twine #twine if #cyoa #interactive fiction #wip if #1930s #old hollywood #oyhs

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sordidmusings · 1 year ago

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Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him. He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes.

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.)

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back. It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head. He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #opla buggy #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #my writing #fem reader #afab reader #x reader

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nijigasakilove · 5 months ago

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Starting to think the hype for a show is inversely proportionate to its quality because wtf all the best premieres this season have had no hype! Like where the hell did this show come from, Cloverworks knocked this first episode out of the park and if this is any indication of how the rest of the series is gonna look, look out for a dark horse AOTS contender.

There’s no better studio to handle shows that have a blend of action and comedy than Cloverworks. They’ve shown us time and time again with Spy x Family, Balance Unlimited, Windbreaker and now this, but this actually looks better than anything they’ve done imo.

First 12 minutes of the episode totally lull you into thinking it’s gonna be a peaceful slice of life anime about a prince who likes to slag off his training, only to seamlessly transition, thru the use of the ball hitting the ground turning into a decapitated head, into the reality of the era. This period in Japanese history was filled with bloodshed, war, betrayals and stuff that would make George RR Martin’s novels look like Disney colouring books and they nailed that here.

The bloodshed, the fall of the Hojo clan and their territory, it all feels so sudden and you’re as broken as Tokiyuki is by the end of it. Everything’s going so well, you get the prophecy from the sage and boom, your world is flipped upside down. Brilliant use of direction to evoke empathy from the audience for the MC. Almost a Ghost of Tsushima style start to this.

The animation during the scene of Suwa pushing Tokiyuki off the cliff and him running thru the crowd of warriors was astounding.. this really is one of the best looking shows this year and one of the best premieres as well. After the success of Shogun I’m very much down for more stuff in this era of Japanese history and can’t wait to see how Tokiyuki gets his revenge.

#the elusive samurai #elusive samurai #nige jouzu no wakagimi #nigewaka #animanga hive #animanga #animangahive

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alphajocklover · 2 months ago

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My and my 2 straight friends are doing a watch party for the spooky season. We try to find some movies generally unheard of, doesn't mean they are always good tho. I wondered if you had any idea to spice up 3 gamer's night, and maybe more. And I think this is deserving of a trick.

So, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that, unless something changes soon, no one is going to go to your watch party. You and your two friends you planned it with, Liam and Tyler, are the only three who show up, and the party will be a complete flop. It’s not as bad as it sounds though. You three have a great night, watching bad movies, playing video games, making inside jokes and eating junk food and candy. It was a little embarrassing that no one else came, but all in all it wasn’t a bad night.

The good news is that it’s not too late. Your night doesn’t have to be just ‘not a bad night.’ You asked for something to spice up the night, and I’m going to give it to you.

I did a little research into you and your friends before I sent this out. No offense, but you guys are kind of movie snobs. It’s not unexpected that you’re intense about movies, given that you’re all film students, it’s just that you take it a bit too far. You guys don’t mean to, but you tend to pick apart and criticize movies people like until you take all the fun out of it, only to then rave about bad movies because to you they were so bad it was hilarious. That's the main reason everyone skipped out on your watch party, because they knew you’d pick unusual, and sometimes bad, movies. So the best way to fix your problem? If your movie choices are driving people away, put on something else! I know it sounds awful to you. Putting on something else to bring people in means putting on some dumb, overplayed mainstream movie you’d have to suffer through the entire night. Watching some overhyped dumb cash grab just to make your watch part more popular doesn’t just sound shallow, it sounds unbearable. But you’re going to have to trust me on this. This movie isn’t popular, it’s not that good, and it will change your life. ‘Brad, Chad, and Vlad’ Isn’t a movie most people have heard of. No one in your school's film department will probably have heard anything about it. It’s an 80’s Halloween comedy about two frat boys, Brad and Chad, who accidentally awaken a vampire, Vlad, and end up getting into a bunch of college shenanigans with the ancient bloodsucker. There’s even a classic 80’s makeover scene where the vampire gets a frat boy makeover. As you, Liam and Tyler watch the movie, just to check it out before the party, you can help but laugh at how cheesy the whole thing is! It’s like if a frat boy tried to make a scary movie, and somehow hit comedy gold. As the movie continues, you start to find some of this stuff… honestly funny. The part where Vlad uses his powers to scare a bunch of nerds made you and your friends laugh loudly, and the storyline about Brad and Chad almost getting kicked off the football team was strangely… relatable? You actually felt for the two dumb jocks, and cheered as they beat the nerdy chemistry club slash dark magic cult and freed Vlad from his curse. As the three friends, now all able to be together in the sunlight, flex their muscles cockily for their sorority girl love interest, you and your bros Lee and Ty couldn’t help but flex too, celebrating the movie's end with your solid meaty muscles shining in the light of the TV.

You and your best bros had fucking loved the movie, and you knew the rest of the frat would love to see it. You had found the perfect movie for the party, which was great considering the 3 of you knew nothing about movies. The three bisexual sports majors barely knew how to take a good enough video for their shared OnlyFans. Not that it mattered. People didn’t pay to watch you three fuck for the camera quality.

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #gay to bi #straight to bi #trick or treat tf

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nhlclover · 1 month ago

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𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: you finally convince matthew to face his fears by watching a horror movie.

warnings: definite spoilers of The Conjuring, couple swear words,

word count: 1.11k

notes: fourth installment of cozytober! hope you guys enjoy this one

You shift on the couch, settling next to Matthew with the remote in hand, your excitement barely contained. You clicked through the titles before finding The Conjuring and selecting it.

You glance over at Matthew, who’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest as he does his best impression of calm confidence. “You sure about this?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“Yes I’m sure. It can’t be that bad,” Matthew replied, voice dripping with forced confidence. “It’s just a movie, it’s fake. How scary can it be?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. He’s putting on that brave face, but you can see the way his foot taps against the carpet, the slight tension in his posture that gives him away. It’s adorable, really. He’s never been good with horror movies, and you know tonight is going to be no different.

The one thing that you and Matthew seemed to be at odds about was movies. You liked sci-fi and action movies, while Matthew preferred comedy and even the occasional romance. However, your biggest dissimilarity was when it came to horror movies. You loved every gorey flick, every jump scare that had your heart pounding in your chest. Matthew, however, couldn’t stand the genre. He’d never admit that it’s because the category scared him, instead claiming they’re too predictable or cheesy, but he couldn’t seem to get through any horror flick without pausing multiple times and being plagued with nightmares about the movies content. When he watched Childs Play with his brother a few years back, it took a nearly a full month for Matthew to stop seeing Chucky in his dreams.

You raised an eyebrow, doubting his bravado. “Uh-huh, just remember you said that.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you pressed play, the ominous opening music filling the room. Matthew shuffled a little, and you noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders. He might’ve been putting on a tough act, but the atmosphere was already getting to him.

The movie begins, creeping in with its unsettling buildup, and you sneak a glance at Matthew. The tension in his jaw betrays him as the camera pans across the creepy Annabelle doll. His fingers tap against his thigh, faster now, and his eyes are wide, a little too focused on the screen, as if by sheer willpower he can keep the fear at bay.

“You okay there, Matty?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

“I’m fine.” he said a little too quickly. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, but you caught the way he flinched when the first jump scare hit — a door slamming shut. You snickered softly, Matthew throwing you a sideways look. “It was loud, I wasn’t expecting it.” he said.

His tough guy act only lasted so long, the movie beginning to tear down his defenses. Every tense moment accentuated by creepy music, caused Matthew to shift closer to you, whether he realized or not. When the demon finally showed itself, jumping off the closet, Matthew grabbed onto your arm. You glance down at it, his fingers gripping you a little tighter than necessary, but you decide not to say anything. His pride’s already hanging by a thread.

The atmosphere in the room is thick now, and when the climax of the movie hits—the mother’s possession scene — Matthew’s resolve crumbles. His breath hitches, his body tense, and when you turn to check on him, you catch him squeezing his eyes shut, the blanket pulled up so high it’s practically a shield.

“Matty,” you whisper, nudging him lightly, “you’ve gotta watch the rest. You’re missing the best part.”

“I’m watching,” he mutters, voice muffled behind the fabric. “Just… taking a break.”

“C’mon, you gotta see the ending. It’s the scariest part,” you coax with a grin, watching as he cracks one eye open, then immediately shuts it again. A small giggle escapes you, but you let him be. The poor guy’s already hanging on by a thread.

Without even realizing it, Matthew ends up practically wrapped around you by the time the movie reaches its terrifying conclusion. His arms are tight around your waist, like you’re some kind of human shield, and his cheek rests lightly against your shoulder. It’s kind of sweet, really, and you’re definitely not complaining about the sudden closeness.

Finally, the credits rolled, and Matthew let out a long breath of relief, sinking back into the couch like a man who had just survived a battle. He stayed quiet for a second, as if gathering himself.

You turn to him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well? Thoughts? Ready for round two? I hear Insidious is next-level scary.”

The look he gives you is pure exasperation, his eyes wide, like you’ve suggested jumping out of a plane without a parachute. “Not a chance in hell. You’re twisted for enjoying these movies.”

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the room as Matthew shakes his head, still looking a little rattled. He mutters something under his breath about you being a “crazy bitch,” but there’s no bite to it, just fond exasperation.

“Okay, okay,” you say between giggles. “I promise, no more horror tonight. But… maybe next time?”

“Next time?” He raises an eyebrow, still eyeing you warily. “There’s not gonna be a next time.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” you say in a low tone. Despite the movie ending a few minutes ago, your conversation turning playful, you could still sense Matthew dripping with tension.

“You okay?” you ask, rubbing his arm softly.

“I’m fine…” Matthew reassures you. “But I will be seeing that creepy ass woman in my dreams tonight.”

You snort, grabbing the remote from the cushion beside you. “How about we leave off on a lighter note?”

Matthew’s eyes soften with relief as you scroll through the options, finally landing on a colorful, cheerful title. “How about Hotel Transylvania? No jump scares, no possessed moms… just some cute cartoon monsters.”

He visibly relaxes at the suggestion, sinking into the couch as a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, giving you a light squeeze. “Now that I can handle.”

You hit play, and as the goofy, fun atmosphere of the movie took over, you nestled back into Matthew’s arms, both of you finally at ease.

You hit play, settling back into Matthew’s arms as the room fills with the playful, goofy sounds of the animated movie. The tension from The Conjuring melts away, leaving behind a cozy warmth as the two of you snuggle up together. Maybe horror wasn’t his thing, but moments like this? You wouldn’t trade them for anything.

#matthew knies #matthew knies x reader #matthew knies imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #mk23 #halloween #horror #fluff #clover's cozytober

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ltash · 3 months ago

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Pest Control 141

Taskforcexfemalereader

You were ready for anything—armed combat, hostile extractions, stealth missions. But what Ghost just called you for? Well, it wasn’t in the job description.

“Oi, get to the common area,” Ghost’s voice crackled through your comms. “We’ve got a... situation.”

You rush in, ready to face some unknown terror. Turns out, the "situation" is an eight-legged monstrosity clinging to the wall, looking like it’s planning world domination. Ghost is standing in the corner, arms crossed, keeping a good six-foot distance between him and the spider.

“You serious?” you say, trying not to laugh. “Ghost, the guy who can take down a platoon single-handed, is afraid of a little spider?”

“It’s not little. Look at the size of it!” Ghost says, nodding toward the creature. It’s huge. You’ll give him that. But still, the irony is too rich to ignore.

“Fine,” you sigh, grabbing a broom like a true warrior. “I’ll take care of it. Stay back, tough guy.”

You inch closer, broom in hand, ready for the mission. Ghost watches closely, clearly not trusting the spider to stay put. With the grace of a seasoned soldier, you raise the broom and swipe—only to miss entirely. Instead of falling to the floor, the spider launches itself… straight onto Ghost’s chest.

The next few seconds are pure chaos.

Ghost lets out a noise you’d never expect from him—half a growl, half a yelp. His hands flail as he tries to bat the spider away, but it’s too late. The thing is clinging to him like a special ops agent on a stealth mission.

“Get it off! Get it off me!” Ghost shouts, running around like he’s under enemy fire.

“Hold still!” you yell, trying to catch up to him with the broom.

“Hold still?!” Ghost snaps, dodging your first broom swing as you chase him around the room like a scene from a slapstick comedy.

In the middle of the commotion, Soap walks in, immediately bursting into laughter. “What the hell is going on in here?”

You barely glance at him, still in hot pursuit of Ghost. “Spider. On Ghost. Stand clear!”

“On Ghost?” Soap is doubled over now, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.

Ghost is still running in circles, arms flailing. “For the love of—just hit it already!”

You aim another swing at Ghost’s chest, but he dodges, and the broom whacks him in the shoulder instead.

“That’s me, you bloody idiot!” he shouts.

“Stop moving, and I’ll hit the spider, not you!”

In one desperate move, Ghost trips over the couch, falls backward, and lands flat on the floor, the spider still crawling around like it owns him.

“Now’s your chance!” Soap shouts, cheering you on like it’s a championship match.

You raise the broom like a gladiator about to strike the final blow and bring it down. This time, you hit the target. The spider goes flying across the room, landing on the window with a satisfying *splat*.

Ghost lies on the floor, panting. “You hit me at least three times, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I got the spider, didn’t I?” you grin, offering a hand to help him up.

He swats it away, muttering, “I’d rather face a whole squad of enemies than deal with that thing again.”

Soap is practically on the floor laughing at this point, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, mate, this is the best day of my life. Ghost, scared of a little spider!”

Ghost pulls himself up, glaring at you both. “Say one more word about this, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Soap wipes a tear away. “Noted. But I’m definitely telling Price.”

You shake your head, trying to contain your laughter as Ghost storms out. Mission accomplished, but you’ll never let him live this one down.

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myhamartiaishubris · 3 months ago

Text

Ben Hargreeves is the worst written best character and I can prove it

This is a poorly organized meta/essay about my baby boy who got massacred. Originally posted in the discord server so some of y'all have seen it already.

Let me be clear: this is a love letter to my favourite Hargreeves boy. I could write him better. I could fix him (narratively).

Here's why Ben is a great character who, paradoxically, was very badly written.

Umbrella Ben

Listen. Listen to me. Ben Hargreeves was, from the moment I saw him, my absolute favourite character. He's already dead? Doomed by the narrative before the narrative even begins? Also, an East Asian character in the year of our Lord 2018?? I was on board. And Brelly Ben gets a lot of good moments! You know that scene where Klaus is in the motel closet, tied up, and Ben says something like, "How does it feel being helpless? This is how I feel, watching my brother piss his life away." Um, hello?? That's such a delicious line.

Because up until this point Ben's been kind of quiet, in that dead broody way, or we saw his young self being soft and reluctant. But suddenly we realize, oh, Ben isn't nice. In fact, he's kind of nasty to his addict brother, and you get this kernel of a glimpse into his character. This is a character who might have been soft-spoken in life, but death and the years since have shredded him down to all his razor edges. He's still that bookish little Ben, except he's not little and he's frustrated, angry, traumatized, and in pain.

And season 2 builds on this! He's willing to violate Klaus's personal boundaries just for a taste of life again. Holy shit that's so delicious. My problem is that, especially in season 2, this isn't explored nearly as much as it could be. Ben's possession shenanigans are mostly played for comedy, when in fact we could be delving into the implications of Ben's character and his relationship with Klaus. You have this character who's kind, who (from what we know so far) represented the "good" of the academy, who loves his brother so so hard and it hurts him so bad to see Klaus hit rock bottom every time. The little "I missed you guys" in season 2? Devastating. And yet despite his goodness he is capable of being a bad person, and he repeatedly hurts those around him (namely Klaus).

So surely this is part of his arc, right? This is going to be explored and resolved. Right?

The Season 2 Ending

So the thing is, I didn't immediately hate the way they had Ben move on / die to save Viktor. I was sad to see my favourite character go, but also excited to see where the writers would take that storyline. Because, obviously, it wasn't over. Right? Obviously Ben's arc isn't finished, he hasn't resolved his frustrations, his complicated relationship with Klaus is never fully untangled, plus the rest of the family never get a moment of real closure with him (except maybe Diego). So clearly, it wasn't over. Right?

Well, in light of season 4, I can confidently come back and say that killing Brelly Ben off here was a stupidass decision.

And here's why: you've effectively splintered his arc in half. Starting from season 3, Ben is an entirely different character, with an entirely different arc that needs to be built from the ground up. While everyone else gets 4 seasons of development, Ben only gets 2, both times. And I'm so not over the fact that his arc isn't over. We saw Ben do some reprehensible shit to Klaus, especially in season 2 with all that possession shit! And we just. Never hear from him again? That's bullshit.

But anyway, since we're here, let's make peace with being here. Hey, Justin H Min is still playing a version of Ben, and he seems interesting, if way different! Surely this will have some interesting implications.

Sparrow Ben

Oh god, Sparrow Ben. In terms of Ben's character writing, season 3 is... fine. Like I said, it suffers from effectively fracturing his arc in half and having to start over, and this isn't the complicated, kind but frustrated and prickly ghost Ben I originally fell in love with. But ok, I do like Justin, and EA rep is still a win to me, so let's go with the flow.

For the most part, season 3 does a solid job. We get some solid beats relating to Ben's ambition and inferiority complex being Number 2. There's a bit of overacting on Justin's part, but hey, that's camp. (I think. I have no idea if I'm using that word right. Am I hip with the kids?)

I really, really loved Ben's moment with Sloane as she's getting married, because it highlights the core of this Ben's character: someone who desperately yearns for family but has forced himself to be all hard shell and soldier. In a way, he's the other end of Brelly Ben's spectrum. (Like forsterite and fayalite - all Mg on one end, Fe on the other.) How much of this Ben is family softness, how much of it is defense mechanism and lashing out?

And then of course - the thing I've been craving so badly - the in-universe comparison to Brelly Ben. This was done... underwhelmingly, if I'm honest. I liked that Ben had a moment of crisis where he couldn't live up to the Umbrellas' dead version of himself, and his moment with Klaus was nice, but in light of season 4 it becomes clear that we could have had more. I wanted him to have an entire arc about it - after all, it's a pretty significant aspect of your character to be "the worse version of yourself from another timeline." (Refer to @vyther16's Gongye Jiwu fic.) I feel like there's a lot of meta you could pull from that, about how your siblings who aren't your siblings look at you and see someone different. Someone you won't be. Someone you can't be, even if you tried, so why bother trying? And they really don't dig through that at all, which is disappointing.

The tentacle samurai fight is badass, though.

Season 4

Oh buddy oh boy. There's so much dumpster fire here, but I'll start with the season 3 loose ends and then move on to season 4's own problems.

1) Sloane. Luther picks Ben up from prison, so I thought they might have an interesting bonding moment over Sloane - after all, they're the two people who cared most about her. But actually no, apparently Ben doesn't give a shit about the one real sister he actually had left at the end of s3.

2) The subway thing. Wasn't he in Korea? My grasping-at-straws ass truly thought that might have been Brelly Ben in the reset timeline, and we'd get a Ben-Ben confrontation or a battle in the minds thing. But I guess that doesn't matter.

3) The Jennifer Incident. So we all know that everyone forgetting about an incident they explicitly reference is stupid, right? Especially because the name Jennifer only exists because they reference it in s3. Ben obsessively draws Jennifer, and then he doesn't recognize or know her? Kill me.

The continuation of his arc is also just sloppy, if it even exists. No more identity crisis about being the worse Ben, no more secret yearning for family or inferiority complex about being a good soldier. Suddenly his arc amounts to, uh, being an asshole and getting hit with sex pollen so powerful it ends the world.

And look, there is a world where Sparrow Ben spiking everyone with marigold could parallel with Brelly Ben's consent problems with Klaus. There is a world where Sparrow Ben dying because of Jennifer could echo Brelly Ben's death in a haunting, tragic, destined kind of way.

But, uh, none of that happens. Here we are, finally getting a Ben-centric season, and it's this. Being relegated to a plot device in your own season. Looking back and realizing that you were always the plot device, even in season 2. Carrying all that tragedy in your little ghost body and being treated like Chekov's waterlogged gun.

And I can't help but look back at season 1, Klaus trying so desperately to prove Ben's existence, and contrast it with the literal next season where a single throwaway line from Klaus sidelines Ben for a whole season. And then he dies. And he dies again.

Fucking hell.

It feels like I'm being made a fool of. Oh, you cared about this East Asian character? You wanted him to have narrative weight and character presence instead of being a plot device for the benefit of his White brothers? Idiot.

Because you'll still be here anyway, right? You'll grasp onto your crumbs for a cool EA character, you'll let us run a character through a trash compactor and keep pretending he's a good character because you latched onto this one East Asian protagonist and you don't want to admit that maybe you should have let go years before.

#the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #meta

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denwritesandcries · 1 year ago

Text

Work of Art – H.C

Pairing: loser!hazel x artist!reader

Summary: You join a fight club just to spend more time with your pretty friend, Hazel Callahan. The fact that you're running out of time to finish an art project is just a detail.

Word count: 3,5k.

Content: loser!hazel trying to be smooth, sylvie being a chaotic ala, cursing, flirting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, my questionable comedy, a little blood at the start, reader is a SIMP.

Note: This came up to me after the ‘these girls are ugly’ scene and I had to make a dramatic story about it. I'm so soft for this character, I just wanna hold her and tell her how beautiful she is.

English is not my first language.

There's a sketchbook opened on your lap, a coal pencil on your hand and a fight happening in front of you.

Technically, that's what you were supposed to be doing too – fighting with someone – it was fight club, after all. Instead, you were sitting against a wall, hastily trying to finish a sketch for your art club project.

In your defense, you weren't even going to join this self-defense club in the first place, having been quite happy just occupying yourself with your art club after school, but your friend Sylvie came up to you one day completely excited about the idea, saying that she really wanted to participate, but that to keep going they needed more members and there enters you.

You said no right away, claiming that you would end up getting overwhelmed trying to balance both clubs with all the meetings, but Sylvie could be so convincing – more like insistent – with her methods, even shouting "PLEASE COME!" in a hallway full of people during classes, that you ended up giving in to when it became too embarrassing. Therefore, you agreed to go to a meeting without the promise of staying.

You regretted that decision and swore to burn Sylvie’s stupid beanie in the first punch that hitted you. You were terrible at fighting.

After being beaten up by a girl you didn't even know the name of, you ended up with a split lip and a bruise forming on your cheek and were ready to go find your friend and gently let her down by telling her that this really wasn't your thing, that is until Hazel Callahan approaches you.

Hazel. The same Hazel who sat three seats away from you in history class for four years, with whom you usually paired up during assignments but didn't talk much. The same Hazel who is standing in front of you with a weird smile and a washcloth in her hand.

“Uh…” you start, not quite sure what to say, “Do you need anything?”

"Oh!" She seems to realize that she's been silent and staring at you for too long, shaking her head, "No, not really, but you looked like you needed it," Hazel holds out the washcloth to you.

You notice that she's doing her best to look casual, shrugging her shoulders with fake indifference and pointing to your bleeding lip with the hand holding the cloth while the other is stuffed into the pocket of her baggy, ripped jeans. The sight is so captivating that it makes you smile even when you don’t want to, with the sudden feeling that you two should interact more.

“Oh, what a gentleman," you joke when you accept and take the cloth from her hand and are happy with the fact that the fabric is dark when your blood stains it, "You came to comfort me after spending all this time watching my ass being kicked?"

Her eyes widened in panic and Hazel squealed like an alarmed puppy, "No!" She exclaims, "I didn't mean that, really. It's just that you seemed upset and I—"

“Haze, it’s okay." You interrupt and reassure her with a gentle hand on her arm, “I’m just messing with you.”

She shakes her head, still in denial, her face red: "But you weren't that bad."

You snort, any trace of upset seeming to leave your body, “But it was bad.”

Hazel looks away from you while playing with the rings on one of her hands, she seems to want to tell you something, so you wait in silence until she has the courage.

"So…" she starts, "Are you staying? At the club, I mean."

No, you want to say. This place is completely chaotic, I have other things I'd like to do and I bet I'll get my ass kicked every time I go up against someone here. But Hazel is looking at you with her head cocked to the side and bright, hopeful blue eyes and what kind of monster would you be to deny something and wipe that look off her face?

“Maybe," you answer instead, an uncertain smile on your face, “I’m still thinking about it.”

That seems to be enough to satisfy her and you quickly turn around, putting the bloodstained cloth inside your backpack and packing your things to leave when you realize that you two were the only ones left in the place.

"Walk with me?" You nod towards the exit for Hazel to follow you and she does so shyly.

As you walk around the school grounds your bodies are close enough that your shoulders touch as you walk and the interaction brings you a surprising amount of comfort.

"You know," Hazel starts again, her voice at a high pitch, she clears her throat with a fist against her mouth before continuing, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but uh—" Hazel stutters, face red again, "It would be really nice if you stayed.”

You turn your head to look at her side face, her nervous attitude warming your heart in a jarring way and you suddenly wonder why you and Hazel have never been closer before, even though you've technically known each other for so many years. It seemed almost unfair to be deprived of her company for so long.

“This fighting thing really isn’t for me,” you shrugged and continued before a look of disappointment could wash over her, “But I think people make it worth coming back for.”

You hoped she would notice the flirting tone in your words; Hazel could be terrible at reading between the lines.

"Oh, you're right!" She replied with an excited smile, "I managed to make a lot of friends there since it started, maybe you can too!”

You raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for Hazel to realize what she said just to tease her, and she did, panicking.

"I didn't mean that you don't have friends!" She shouted with a wave of her arms, "I just— I just—"

Hazel's calm facade falls completely and you feel a laugh grow in your chest as you laugh openly. She takes a moment to compose herself before relaxing a little when she sees that you're not bothered.

"Okay, got it." you say with a final giggle, "Don't worry, I'll show up since it would be so nice if I stayed."

Sure, she may not have understood your flirting the first time, but her red face up to her ears and shy gaze stuck on the floor could only be an indication that she had now caught on.

When you reach the point where your paths part, you can't resist talking to Hazel one last time:

"Haze," You call in a relaxed tone as she heads to her car, "Is that really a women's empowerment club?"

Hazel smiles as she opens the door, without any nervousness this time, "I have no idea, but I like it."

You think you might like it too if you were going to see her like this more often.

When you get home that day, with your untouched art supplies weighing down your backpack, there's a message on your phone left from Sylvie. That little bastard had left without you even noticing.

slaygirl:

hey what u throught about the club

*thouth

sHIT

*thought

runned right home when I saw your mad face lol

You snorted with a roll of eyes. You had already made the decision anyway, there was no point in actually being mad at her.

you:

well I guess is not THAT bad

I'll make the sacrifice and participate

slaygirl:

HELL YEAH LET'S GOOO

told u would like it

You ask yourself one last time if you should really do this or not; the times between the fight club and art club meetings were so close together, it could easily turn into a mess. Then you think about Hazel and the way she seemed enchanted by the idea of you being there.

Fuck it, you thought. You can handle both.

You couldn't handle both. That was why you found yourself against that wall now, running out of time and without the proper sketches you were supposed to present later.

It was a relatively simple exercise that you had to do: draw everyday landscapes in charcoal pencil by sight. The problem is that you didn't have time to draw the requested amount and you haven't had much inspiration other than classrooms and parts of the school lately.

Luckily, no one really minded when you decided to opt to just be a spectator today; PJ and Josie being too busy flirting with Brittany and Isabel and Sylvie being just excited about getting into a fight with someone.

"And what are you doing there?" Hazel's voice scares you as she sits down next to you with a curious look and a small smile at the sound of your surprised squeak.

You had no idea where she had come from, having quickly talked to her as soon as you arrived and then gone straight to your task, but you were very happy to have her there now. You've been getting closer over the last few weeks since joining the club, just as you wanted, which has made all of your juggling between tasks totally worth it.

"Shouldn't you be beating up someone?" You dodged the question, giving her a look of fake reprimand.

She scoffed with a hand gesture, "I'll be right there, I just passed by to check on you." She pointed with her chin to the notebook with you, "So?”

You shrug, "Just trying to finish this project, but nothing seems to make me want to draw." You turn the sketchbook so Hazel can see the simple outline of the open area in which you practice defense, your hands are stained with coal pencil and the sheet is messy with outlines of bodies overlapping the paper.

For the confused look on her face and the slight tilt of her head, you can tell Hazel doesn't quite understand what you mean, but she gives you a reassuring smile anyway.

"You're talented, I'm sure you'll figure that out soon."

You feel a stupid smile growing on your face and you can't help the way your voice softens, "Thanks, Haze."

She returns your smile for a moment, but quickly looks away, seeming to want to break off the interaction.

Hazel breaks the silence that suddenly settles in: “Will you teach me?”, she asks.

You look at her confused, “What? Drawing?”

“Hm-hm,” She nods with a pout, “I always see you drawing during class and I'm terrible at it.”

You find her extremely captivating.

“Okay,” you snort. “I’ll give you drawing lessons if you give me fighting lessons. You’re better at this than me. Than everyone here, actually.”

And then she gets nervous again, cheeks colored a soft red, stammering, “Oh. I— hm, alright.”

You think maybe she's going to say something more, but Hazel gets up and shakes her head like a puppy and your heart warms, before saying goodbye, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder and running off to find a partner for the day's exercises.

A sigh leaves your chest as your gaze follows her as she walks, deciding to watch a little until you get the courage to finish your work.

Hazel is paired with a girl you had never spoken to but who you were sure was in your English class. A very pretty girl, by the way. It annoyed you how close they were and the way Hazel touched the girl so she could fix her position before they started fighting, the same way she did to you when you asked for help with your movements the other day; and it annoyed you even more the way the girl seemed to lean into her touch, exactly like you did on the few occasions when Hazel touched you for more than a few seconds.

Damn, you wish you knew the girl's name so you could actually get mad.

Your stomach turned uncomfortably the more you watched the duo, didn't that girl know that Hazel is... what? Your girlfriend? Your friend who you flirt with? This was practically the same as nothing. You had nothing. You couldn't be mad.

But man, you are annoyed.

With a shake of your head, you look away from the scene and open your sketchbook again, this time to a clean page. Better get back to work.

When you look up again, Hazel has the girl trapped in her arms. The way her best features are marked is unfairly hot, your silly jealousy ends up forgotten in favor of admiring how beautiful she is.

Unconsciously, you begin to trace the outline of her strong jaw onto the paper, letting the simple body outline you had begun take shape.

To you, Hazel was a work of art in every sense of the word, from her appearance to her most unusual mannerisms. Everything about her seemed to scream art and drawing her was an extremely satisfying action. It wasn't even the first time you had portrayed her, having made small sketches during the times you worked together in class and given them all to her – you wish you had kept at least one now –, maybe that's why she asked you for lessons anyway.

Either way, anything involving Hazel is more interesting than your original project.

You notice the way her hair falls over her face, the dark color contrasting with her big blue eyes, and you think it's a shame you didn't bring any supplies you could use to color them. There is a small cut where a yellowish bruise is on her cheek; Hazel seemed to always be recovering from some injury, even though she was the one who won most of the fights, not that you would count – liar, you did.

You draw the outline of her nose and lips with the practiced precision of someone who has done this many times before; she's wearing a dark green button-down shirt, one of your favorites on her, along with baggy black jeans and an old pair of vans; her hands are missing their usual rings and there are little green dinosaurs in her socks.

You won't add all of it, of course, it's not a full body drawing, but you can't help but notice every little detail about her.

Time passes without you noticing, your project remains completely forgotten while you draw Hazel from memory, no longer needing to turn to the annoying vision of her and the other girl. When the meeting is almost finished, Sylvie approaches you smiling and looks over your shoulder.

"Dude!" She exclaims in a knowing tone, “So that’s why you actually agreed to join the club!”

“Shush girl, do you want everyone here to know!?” You whisper-shouting and quickly pull the beanie she was wearing over her nose tightly, ignoring the chocked ‘fucking rude’ that Sylvie lets out.

“You should tell her." Sylvie declares, because of course she would understand right away that you have a crush.

“What?" You ask, alarmed, “Like right now?”

"Yeah!" She pushes your shoulder in encouragement, “The day is almost over, it’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.” Sylvie shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t just go there and tell.” You mumble, “And I have things to do.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure she likes you back!”

“And how can you know that?” You asked.

“How come you don’t know that?” Sylvie replied, “It’s kinda obvious.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but I’m not going to tell her anything now.” You insist stubbornly.

Sylvie looks like she's about to say something else, but a tricksy smile forms on her face when she sees someone approaching.

"Tell what?" Hazel's voice coming from nearby startles you and when you turn your face to find her, she's alone, no sign of the other girl in sight.

You were about to stutter something in response – and most likely make a fool of yourself – but Sylvie was quicker.

“Oh!” Your friend exclaims in false innocence, “I was trying to convince her to show you her drawing, but she’s such a perfectionist.”

You elbow her in panic and Sylvie lightly tugs at your hair as she stands up; you don't notice the dirty look Hazel gives to the interaction, wringing her hands in her pockets.

Sylvie walks away arching her eyebrows in a suggestive expression at you and your cheeks burn at the implication as Hazel takes her place beside you.

“So…” she begins, her voice strangely tense, “Did you finish what you were drawing? Can I see it?"

“Well…” You feel nervous, there’s no way to get out of this without making her sad and that’s the last thing you would want to do. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go ahead: “Inspiration came to and I drew something, but it’s not for my project, I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

"Yes, I will!" Hazel adjusts herself excitedly, your knees touching, “Can I see it?” she repeats.

You gulp and nod, turning the sketchbook towards her. Hazel lens even closer to you to see the result, her chin brushing your shoulder and a hand running up your back and resting there, surprising you, you feel the coldness of her hand and the outline of her rings – when she did put them back? – through the fabric of your t-shirt.

You feel the moment Hazel registers the drawing on the sheet and her breath hitches, the action sending a shiver up your spine.

"Then?" You ask nervously, “What do you think?”

But Hazel remains silent. When you turn to look at her, her jaw is dropped in complete disbelief and a deep blush covers her face from her cheeks to her ears.

“Haze?” You call, unsure.

“That’s— it’s beautiful.” She stutters, one hand delicately touches the paper, coal staining her fingers, “It’s me. It’s me… beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” you correct without hesitation and Hazel’s gaze turns to you, “That’s nothing compared to you.”

She hesitates for a moment, “Why did you do that?”

"Why?" You echo, “You know why.”

And Hazel knows. You know she knows. There hasn't been a single day that the two of you haven't flirted, that there hasn't been this tension between you. There's no way she doesn't know, but someone needs to admit it.

She looks at you expectantly, the same lovely hope as before is back in her eyes, and again, who are you to take that look off her face?

You sigh, “I have a crush on you, Haze.”

She snorts, voice shaking in a confident attempt of a joke: “I know.”

You raise an eyebrow and give her an unimpressed look and Hazel immediately backtracks.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She exclaims, “I just— I like you too, a lot.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips when you put the notebook and pencil aside to look at her fully and your faces are so close that you would only have to lean in for your lips to touch. God, you've never wanted something so much before.

You notice every little detail of her face; a fallen eyelash on her cheek, the faint marks of dark circles over her eyes, freckles over her nose that you had never gotten close enough before to see.

Hazel looks at you like she can't believe what's happening and honestly, neither can you.

“Please,” she whispers, eyes locked on your lips.

Hazel Callahan was the most beautiful work of art you had ever seen and as an artist, you know you should never touch artworks, but Hazel asks you and you could never deny her anything.

Your lips meet and it's softer than you thought it could be – even though you've thought about it many times then – and your hands rest on her cheeks like they belong there, she lets out a sigh of contentment that warms your heart.

When you pull away, there's a coal stain on Hazel's face from where your hand was before and her pupils are dilated like dark pits, it's unfair the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

She kisses you again, shorter this time and you would have chased her lips if it weren't for someone's voice scaring you:

“ATTA GIRL, I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” Sylvie is on the other side of the gym, cheering and pointing at you.

You had completely forgotten that the meeting wasn't over yet.

“Dude." PJ starts on the other side, “When did this happend?”

“You know this is a public space right?” Josie asks with a hand on her hip, “Don’t make out here, man.”

You shake your head in amusement and start to gather your things, “Okay, okay,” you say. “Let’s make out somewhere else then. Come on Haze.”

Hazel seems too flustreaded to speak and doesn't argue as you take her hand and pull her along as you leave to the sounds of your friends cheering and joking.

“Where are we going?” She asks, you’re still holding hands.

You shrug innocently, “I promised you drawing lessons, didn’t I?”

In the end you don't show up at the art club that day, too busy spending time with your newest girlfriend and it's totally worth it.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #denwrites

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