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pampushky · 4 months ago

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Mon Petit Doudou

Pornstar! Charles Leclerc/Pornstar! Reader - 7.4k

here it is!! enjoy! please reblog and share and all that lovely stuff! getting your comments makes my day and seeing how excited everyone was for this made me super happy :)

uhhh anyway. Might be a bit inaccurate, I'm not all that well versed in BDSM stuff so if anything is like... a super negative connotation within the community that's inaccurate (besides one character who has bad etiquette for plot reasons sorry)

anyway lmk what ya think lmao

masterlist |

He was too beautiful to be doing something like this for a living. With those bewitching hazel eyes. The effortlessly styled hair. His athletic build. The sweet slur of his accent as he lowered his voice to a sultry level when he talked to you.

But weren’t you as well? Wasn’t that why you fought so hard for your anonymity? That was why you had only ever allowed your mouth or lower to be seen in any stream or video, combined with the concealer that hid away any tattoos or marks from the prying eyes of those who watched you pleasure yourself on camera. Why you never wore your glasses to any professional shoot. It became a necessity to dress so differently on and off screen.

So why did it feel so weird now? Two of you, the same profession between you as you discuss plans for your… collaboration. Charles smiles at you. Stubbly beard and white teeth, a bit of the foam from his coffee clinging to his mustache. Perfectly styled hair as though he’d just stepped out of a convertible. You know you look similar. The soft cardigan slipping off your shoulders. Exposing the delicate tattoos of rue on your upper arms that circled your biceps and danced up to your shoulders.

Herb-of-grace. Purity. Innocence. How ironic for you, considering what your profession had turned into. From a part-time job to a serious career that often ended up having better benefits and more money.

Charles leans forward, whispering something in French you don’t quite catch, making you frown as he cackles, leaning back. Other tables at the cafe look at the two of you, and you can see the adoration in their eyes. You look like the perfect couple. In a way, you are, just not a romantic one. A spoiled rotten sub and the protective, sweet dom.

“I think you should let them see the tattoos, no? I think they would like it,” Charles says, shit eating grin on his lips. “What does the rue flower represent again?” Because he damn well knows what it means, he just likes to tease you.

“You’re impossible,” you take a steady sip from your cup, looking down at the journal that you’d brought to jot any ideas or notes down in. “You are aware of that, right?”

“But the people like it.” Charles leans back with a shrug. “So. To continue…”

If only the other tables were close enough to hear any of your discussion. To hear the things he was suggesting. But you couldn’t even protest against most of his ideas— they were appealing. Sponsorship deals that both of you had been offered. Not only would your audience like it, but… well, you would enjoy it as well. You can’t help but the little smile that makes its way onto your lips when he nudges you under the table with his foot.

“Don’t play footsie with me,” you kick him back gently, making sure to just brush his shin. “Who said it was my foot?”

“Har har.” You roll your eyes, but Charles kicks you again, and you can’t help but laugh with your head tilted back. “And was that your foot, this time?” “Wouldn’t you like to see, hm?”

The rest of the video series is figured out pretty easily. The safewords, plot, who’s going to edit the videos (Max will. He’s one of Charles’s buddies who you’ve seen edit together the most filthy things from previous collaborations and blending everything together with a straight face while sucking on a fancy bendy straw leading to a tall can of Red Bull). You’re comfortable with it all, even asking if Max would be willing to let you use the straw for your water bottle during filming breaks when shooting more traditional videos.

“Probably not. He’s very protective of it,” Charles says sagely, watching as you just doodle loops and loops of ink into your journal. “Do you still use the same brand of concealer? Just so I can have it on hand. The other bottle you gave me expired.”

“Ah, no, ended up having a bad reaction with it the last time I used it,” you scratch your neck and shrug the cardigan back on. Covering up the twin rue tattoos. “I’ll text you the new brand. I can bring it, too, because it’s a bit pricy…”

“Don’t worry about it, I can get it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Charles looks down at his phone when you text him the link, frowning more so about how you had thought you’d even need to think about buying it. A bottle of your matching shade is ordered by the end of his sentence. “You know that.”

“Tattoo seals are also a good thing to use,” You turn to reach into your bag, missing the way that he traces over the leafy, flowering tattoos on your shoulders. You push a few of the little stickers across to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t have to worry about replacing or cleaning the sheets, then.”

“Hm. My smart girl,” His praise falls easily from his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your gaze seems to soften for just a second after it. “I’ll let you know,” Charles snaps a picture of a few and pushes them back towards you. “Stream in a few days then? Don’t forget the collar, mon chou,”

You just laugh, leaning back in your seat while finishing your tea. Like you haven’t been discussing an upcoming scene that will take place in your next shoot with your dom over coffee. How you’ll split the costs and whatever monetization comes from the videos, while also letting him spoil you with the tea and pastries you love. It’s almost like a date. Perhaps in another life, it would be such an innocent thing, and not the planning of a semi-niche porn live stream.

Charles trails kisses down your neck, letting his stubble brush against you, chuckling as your skin flushes, leaving a wake of goosebumps and heated skin under his lips. The camera is on, but you don’t exactly see it, most of your face is pushed out of frame with how you’re lying across his lap.

“Are you going to be good, mon chou?”

One of his hands rubs softly on your back, while you’re laid across his lap. You’re face down, and you know you’re positioned in a way so that the viewers will be able to see all of your body. You squirm gently, and nod, trying to tilt your head back so that you’ll be a bit closer to his face. You lay so that you’re facing away from the camera. Your tattoos have been carefully covered with a mix of concealer and tattoo patches. It’s warm, and you feel safe, your mind fuzzy as you slip into subspace. Your hair falls in small waves around the duvet, like a halo.

Sitting comfortably against your neck is your newest collar. A lovely burgundy leather with brass d-rings and pressed eyes that have been carefully polished to shine. A few pendants hang off the D-ring, little gifts from Charles to you. The inside of the collar itself is lined with soft velvet, made to stop the skin from chaffing. Admittedly, Charles had splurged on it for you, wanting you to have only the best as he worshiped you.

“Uh uh uh,” His hand moves to cup the small of your back to stop your squirming. “Doudou, they want to see you. Don’t move so much,” He looks over at the screen, where a few messages are beginning to pop in. A few donations pop onto the stream’s overlay, displayed for all to see, along with the chat on the side, displayed by one of his other monitors.

ugh she’s so cute (€5) Is that a new collar? Looks so cute on her!! (€10) awww!! she’s getting so excited!! happy to see you both <3 (€20) Such a good girl, listening so well already (€5) Make her answer the question. Give a sub an inch and they’ll take a mile. (€50)

Charles frowns at one of the more recent messages in the chat. Very rarely did he ever need to punish you for being a brat or acting out of turn. Whenever he did do this, it was always scripted for the viewers. Played up, and a rare event that usually came after a request was put in for it, along with a substantial amount of money. But fifty euros is nothing close to what would substantiate any punishment, so he brushes over it and smiles at the chat as more tips and excited messages drop in.

“Oh, mon chou, they’re so happy to see you again,” Charles whispers, watching as the viewer count starts to grow as people tap on the notification that you’ve both gone live. More comments in the chat pour in. “Yes, she’s been so good lately, haven’t you, ma moitié?”

He runs a hand up and down your back, and then gently squeezes the swell of your ass. You squirm a little bit again and make a needy noise rather than answering.

Make her answer. She seems like a bit of a spoilt sub, needs a reminder of who’s in control. (€50)

The message donation floats on the stream overlay for a few seconds, before being replaced by more donations. The chat is a mix of more praise and excitement along with a handful of confused ‘???’ about the last donation message. It’s the same username as the other donation that had confused him a bit. His mouth quirks down into a frown before he quickly masks it with a little smirk as he looks down at you.

“Doudou, have you been good?” Charles whispers softly in your ear, leaning down to ask you. His stubble brushes over your skin, and he gently rubs your lower back, encouraging you to speak. “They want to hear your sweet voice, bébé.”

“Uh–huh,” you mumble out, starting to squirm again. “Been good, sir.”

“Yes or no, bébé,” Charles gently reminds you, his touch still reverent around your skin as you lay across his lap, stomach facing down. “I know you have, but our lovely friends watching you don’t.”

“Y-yes, been so good,” your voice is soft, and his heart melts. Charles is already a very soft dom towards you. Never pushing. Never raised his voice. He doesn’t like using any crops or toys that can verge on pain. That’s just what the relationship between the two of you had become.

she’s so cute!! Aaksfhasl so so good for us!! I just wanna see her cute little face (T^T) She’s so eager to please!!

The chat is a blur at this point. Mostly compliments for your good behavior and how eager you appear to be to start the steam. Lovingly, Charles rubs your back again. Kisses the top of your head, and then gently starts to finger you open, prepping you for what you’d both discussed for today’s streams.

“There’s a bunch of toys we’ve gotten today,” Charles leans back to grab the little basket of toys, reading out their names and the slightly dry sponsor segments he knows he has to read. He lifts each one to show the camera, and you press your legs together with a whine as he reads out the descriptions the sponsors had given him for each toy.

He tilts his head back to laugh a little bit at your desperation and softly kisses the small of your back.

“You should have seen her the other day,” Charles looks at the camera, while you let out little squeaks. You’re still on his lap and trying your best to keep still as he gently pumps in and out of you with his ring and middle fingers. “She was so good. Even when she had a plug in.”

Hot hot hot omg

You squirm slightly at his words. Whining softly. Staying as still as possible just like he’d told you, lost in the sweetness of subspace. The tip of his middle finger brushes against a very special, spongy spot inside of you that has you keening into the duvet on Charles’s bed.

“Oh? Did I find something?” Charles feigns disinterest while curling his fingers to press just a bit harder into your G-spot. He reaches with his other hand to grab the camera, wanting the chat to have a good view of your folds clenching around his fingers tightly. When he pulls his fingers out, they glisten with your wetness, and your sweet hole tightens around nothing. “Look at you, so responsive for me,”

He brings himself to a slower pace, no longer thrusting his fingers in and out of you with the same rigor as he had minutes before. You wiggle your rear at him again, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him with a little sigh, your pleading look invisible to the camera. Just as his lips quirked into a small smile over your sass, another donation popped up just as he pressed the camera back onto its little stand.

What an indignant little thing. Put her in her place, hopefully this helps you grow a pair. (€100)

Charles holds back every childish instance to flash his balls to the camera just to specifically show this donor that he does indeed have a pair, and a rather substantial set at that. You whine again, and without really thinking, he brings his palm down onto your left cheek, the one closest to the camera. It’s not too hard, and it sounded worse than it actually was. You let out a little yelp, and still, your hands fist in the duvet covers even tighter, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“You know better than to whine, you’ll get what you want,” Charles' gaze softens, and he already feels a bit of regret for spanking you without warning. The collar around your neck shifts a bit, some of the pendants hanging off the D-ring jingle together from how you’d jerked your head back to look at him. The little bell on the collar chimes sweetly, and soothingly, Charles continues to rub your left cheek, leaning down to softly kiss you out of frame. You whine, and he swallows all your noises, before leaning back in, looking at the camera while lovingly soothing the skin where he’d smacked down.

To some satisfaction, he can’t see any new donations from that particular donor. He’ll make sure you feel nothing but loved, with the two hundred euros the person had dropped on it. Charles just smiles again, letting his hand still on your lower back, continuing with the stream as planned.

An hour in and he’s had you nearly cumming on one of the rabbit toys sent to you. It’s smooth, and the actual toy part is a lovely mint green color. A very nice one, with several different speeds used to keep you squirming and whining softly under his touch. Small sighs of “—Sir— please—” and “Ch—Charles—” fall from your lips ever so often, and he even manages to coax a loud moan from your lips, which the chat goes insane about. When you do climax, you don’t even have the where-with-all to try and warn Charles. And he doesn’t even mind, he’s always been happy to just let you chase your own pleasure and highs.

You whine, slumping against him, feeling him pull the still-vibrating toy from your folds. Your clit is puffy and engorged, and the chat loves to see how you whimper as Charles brushes his fingers through your folds, holding the camera close to give everyone a good view of your still-twitching cunt.

so pretty now give her another!! Her whines omg Good Girl <3 (€25) Such a cute little sub Wish i had a dom to take care of me like she does waaaa

Despite himself, Charles smirks, knowing his face is out of view while he gives everyone a good view of your slick heat. The donor who’d been provoking him hadn’t said anything in a while. He grins at every little noise you make, especially with how you whimper at his touches, still sensitive. But you don’t move away— you know you’re safe, and that he’d never do anything to harm you. You have safewords for that exact reason, and you’d never had to use them outside of practice scenarios Charles would make you do just in case.

He settles the camera back onto its stand, tilting it down so that the stream can also see a bit of himself. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low around his hips. The waistband of his boxers is visible, showing off the V-line of his lower body, and the happy trail of dark brown fuzz that crawls up his torso.

“Did you like that one, mon chou?” Charles croons, moving so that he blocks the view of the camera, purposefully hiding your pretty face so that you have a bit of time to reposition yourself. “Hmm?”

“Mhm,” your voice is dreamy, and your head lolls uselessly to the side as he strokes your cheek. “S’good…”

There’s no need for you to call him ‘sir’ at this moment. He doesn’t even really enforce the title, it’s just something that slips out occasionally while he takes care of you. It’s adorable, in all honesty, the way that you talk when he’s truly gotten you into the hazy, carefree state that is your subspace, never so much as raising his voice when talking to you. That’s his brand. That’s your brand. Just a needy sub and soft dom pairing that verged on Charles having an obsession with you cumming and feeling safe while he’s there.

The rest of the stream goes about as planned. Charles tries a variety of new toys on you, ranging from a dual-purpose clitoral suction toy that doubles as a dildo to vibrating anal beads that you are not much a fan of, but let him try them on you for the sake of experimentation. It all comes to the grand finale of Charles then having you bounce on his lap as you ride his thick cock, your walls clenching around him as you whine and wail out pleas for him.

“That’s it, mon chou, you’re being so good for me, always so wonderful,” Charles squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down on his lap as you whine out a sound that might be his name. The camera has a wonderful view of your back, zoomed in to specifically see the way he slides in and out of you. Your cream covers his cock.

You lean against him, your forehead on his shoulder as you gasp and pant. He can feel the way you’re loosely gripping onto his shoulders, not strong enough to scratch his skin, but certainly hard enough to remind him that you were here, if the warm wetness of your cunt somehow didn’t.

“Where do you want me? Where, mon chaton?” Charles whispers against your head, and he is rewarded by you looking at him with a hazy glance, just for him.

“I-inside,” you whimper, trying to lean against him further, trying to get him to press his face against yours, stopped only by the fact that he needs to keep your face out of frame.

So he gently moves so that both of your faces are out of frame, his stubbled cheek against yours. Thrusts growing more rapid until you clench around him, trying to milk his cock for anything he may give you. He finishes a minute after, twitching inside of you, and breathing hard as he comes down from his high. In the back of his mind, Charles imagines his cum settling in your womb. Making a baby. Seeing you grow round as the months passed, needing help with simple things. Perhaps it would have if it weren’t for your implant and his vasectomy. Just precautions of the trade.

Gently, he pulls himself from you, still panting. He brings the camera closer, giving the viewers a good look at how his seed trickles from your folds, mixing with your release.

hot!! Eeeek!! breeding kink breeding kink She’d look so fucking cute all round with a baby Give her a baby!! (€20)

Charles pauses the camera feed for a few minutes, gently wiping at your core with a warm cloth and praising you endlessly as you mewl helplessly. The chat feeds into his little fantasy. He thinks about you as his housewife. Coming home from a normal office job rather than a studio shoot with other people. Kissing the rue flower tattoos on your shoulders lovingly, while his hands come to hold the little bump of your pregnant belly.

But with a shake of his head, it’s gone. Because that isn’t your relationship with him. So he turns the camera back on with you settled in his lap, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies. You’re curled up happily, face nuzzled into his shoulder, hiding everything away from the camera’s view. He can feel you placing almost sleepy kisses on his neck, along with the contented sighs you’re making.

As is the normal routine, Charles thanks everyone for their donations, while also allowing viewers to make requests in the chat. Answering questions about the little break from any streaming and videos the two of you would normally do. This is usually when more of the donations sweep in, much bigger ones. The notifications are delayed, and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees one rather large donation come through.

I’d like to commission something of the two of you. I’ll be reaching out to your business email after the stream, just to ensure that this tip doesn’t bounce. (€800)

It’s the same username as the donor who had dropped €200 earlier in the stream. Part of Charles feels incredibly uneasy over whatever this commission could entail, simply based on the comments they had made in their previous donations.

But if they had been able to give over €1000 in a single stream…. Which was nearly a third, if not more, of the total donations…

You shift slightly in Charles’ lap, bringing him back to the present. You’re still lost, he can see that by the distant, glazed-over look in your eyes. What you need right now is a good bath, a bottle of water, and something to snack on while he massages the knots from your back. You can talk about the possibility of something like a commissioned video later.

“That’s…. Hm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we, bébé?” Charles grins, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, before bidding farewell to the stream, and turning off the camera. The donations still pour in for another thirty minutes, and that’s when Charles gets the light ping that everything’s done downloading, right as he’s gotten you to finish a bottle of water. He sends it to Max immediately, who’s already gotten the rough outline of how the video should look. Charles will go over to his apartment tomorrow to work on the specifics of what everything should look like, and then send the link to you for final approval to post. Knowing Max, the Dutchman is likely just starting to wake up as the world is going to sleep. He’ll probably have a mockup done just as the sun starts to rise.

For now, Charles turns his focus to you, watching as you slowly munch on goldfish crackers, as if deep in thought. It’s funny, really, you’re so lost in your thoughts and somewhat spaced out still. But when you look at him, he can see the little grin on your face as he walks over to you. Letting you curl into his embrace.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Mm. I was fucking you rather hard near the end.”

That makes you giggle, and you look up at him with a mischievous little grin. “You also spanked me.”

“I did.” Charles swallows a bit of his guilt down. “Are you sore?”

“No. It was… just unexpected.” You fiddle with the strings of his sweatpants, and he plays with the hair at the back of your head. It’s domestic and sweet. It could be a scene from the everyday life of any young couple. Charles feels like he’s in the wrong for wishing it was. “It startled me a bit. Nothing bad.”

“Sorry.”

You just shrug, and let him help you out of the hoodie. With the utmost care, he peels off the tattoo seals. Wipes away the concealer. And helps you into the shower, washing away any of the stubborn bits of makeup that insisted on staying behind. The rue flowers bloom under his touch, and without really thinking, Charles kisses them, his lips trailing around your shoulders and upper arms as if he’s worshiping some idol.

It’s the most intimate thing someone’s ever done for you. And Charles realizes he may have just crossed a serious line, looking back at you like a deer in the headlights as you stare at him over your shoulder, with a mildly sleepy gaze. His hands start to shake.

“Why’d you stop?”

The way you tilt your head is sinful. That someone so innocent and willing to give and submit your body to him also looks at him in such a way. Asking such obvious questions when you already know the answer. Entering a relationship because of your shared profession with him could be catastrophic. You both work in such a niche of your industry when it comes to the kinks and roleplays you’re willing to work through that both of you would be screwed if feelings got in the way of your work.

“Because we shouldn’t take it any further,”

“What if I want you to?”

Charles nearly chokes on his surprise. The water is still warm around him. Your hair still has the conditioner in it, just soaking on your scalp as you wait for him to help you wash it out.

“That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t.”

“But you were just kissing my tattoos.” Your brow furrows. “That’s hardly the porn we normally shoot.”

“It’s— it’s not about the porn—”

“Then ask me out.” You say it so plainly. As if it’s that easy… and maybe it is. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you. You seem to like me.”

“I do like you!” Charles blurts out. And then blushes violently, his pale skin turning a vibrant pink-red as he starts to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, making you turn away from him so he doesn’t get any of it in your eyes. He still feels guilty for spanking you without much warning. “But don’t you think this could be weird—”

“I think it could be nice.” You sigh, leaning into his touch. Entrusting him to put you back together after breaking you apart. “Don’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to speak after that. Drives you home. You watch him from the window of your apartment as the rear lights of his car fade away.

The moment Charles is out of sight, he goes to Max’s flat. Pounding on the door hard until the disgruntled Dutchman opens up. He can hear Daniel moving around somewhere in the apartment, talking to one of the cats as Charles stands dumbly at the threshold of the happy couple’s home.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” Charles blurts out, and Max just scowls further.

“Mate, I could have told you that!” Daniel calls from deeper in the house, as Max pulls the panicked man inside, making him sit down in the cozy living room. Max’s computer set up is pushed into the corner, with a cat tower beside the desk. Sassy currently sleeps happily on the highest little bed, while Jimmy weaves through Daniel’s legs as the Australian offers a slice of pizza to Charles. “What finally made you realize?”

“She— she told me to ask her out. Wait— does that count as her asking me out—?”

Charles’ voice grows more frantic, and his hands go to his hair as he starts to pace in the living room. Both cats watch him go back and forth, while Max settles at his desk, opening the file to start editing.

“Who cares? Do it. You’ve been making moony eyes at her for the past year of working with her.” Max grumbles, clearly unamused by the drama of it all.

“We make porn together!”

“So? That’s how I met Max.” Daniel tilts his head, at which point Jimmy does the same. The Monegasque frowns at him. “Didn’t stop us.”

“You’re both gay.”

“Ouch.” Max’s stoic tone is somehow cutting, even when he’s focused on the screen, pulling up the video Charles had sent to him, and then the outline on the other monitor. “I don’t see how that changes anything. The only difference is that I was Daniel’s editor rather than costar.”

Charles flops onto the couch. Daniel just looks down at the man, before looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “And how’d you respond?”

“What?”

“How did you respond to her asking you out?”

His face goes blank, and a look of realization dawns on his face.

“I panicked?”

“How badly?”

“I kept— okay I responded pretty badly,” Charles admits, and then groans right into his hands, rubbing his face in frustration. He keeps thinking about how he’d kissed your tattoos. Had he inadvertently made you feel like you could ask that? Furthermore, were you really, truly asking that, or were you still somewhat caught up trying to be a good sub?

Images of you sleeping in his bed as the morning sun rises conjure up in his mind, followed by cooking together in the kitchen of his flat, and he can’t help but groan angrily at himself for letting such a fantasy with someone who he could call his coworker appear in his mind at this moment. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face as you sit across from him at the cafe, brushing your foot against his shins while sipping at your cup of tea. Your feet up on his lap while reading a book on his couch, pure domestic bliss.

“Fuuuuck,” Charles just keeps his hands on his face. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not going to hate you,” Daniel tries to comfort him. “Just tell her you need time to think about it.”

“No but— I was also sending mixed messages,” he mumbles, and he hears a long, drawn-out sigh from both Max and Daniel. “I was kissing her shoulders. I— I couldn’t help it, I felt bad, I kinda spanked her without warning earlier in the stream—”

“Gross.”

“I know! But this one donor was getting so pissy about how she was responding—”

“I’m sorry, you let someone who was watching and imagining touching her dictate how you were actually touching her?” Daniel raises an eyebrow, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Dude. You’re her dom, not to mention how many times you’ve been with her. Why would you get so possessive then?”

Maybe he is a bit possessive. Last year, during a studio-based shoot when another dom had been too rough with you, using your blindfold to practically drag you around the set, and spanking you much harder than he had originally implied he would, Charles had immediately cut the camera and kicked the man out of the room, not even letting him get dressed. He’d gone straight to your side after that, checking you were okay for nearly an hour before even considering letting the filming start again.

That had earned him a bit of a reputation as possessive over his subs, you in particular. The lack of collaborations with any other actors certainly hadn’t helped much either, with your last one being with Daniel almost half a year ago, and that one had been a cuckolding video, where he had posed as the husband watching his wife getting fucked and bred by another man, not even touching you throughout the process besides a scripted kiss at the end.

Now, Charles feels like he is 1.) the stupidest man on planet Earth and 2.) just passed up on an opportunity that you had presented him on a silver platter. He stares up at the ceiling as Daniel looks down at him. Maxis typing away in the corner, and makes a little ‘hm’ noise, likely getting to the part of the stream where he’d spanked you.

“Wow. That sounded bad. Didn’t leave a mark though,” Max hums, and then starts to type again, before making a much more distressed noise. “No fucking way— Dani! It’s the fucking guy again!”

“Wha— really?” Daniel dashes over to look at the screen while Charles stays on the couch. “Ugh. What a fucking creep.”

That piques some interest.

“What?”

“Yeah— the guy with the weird dono? Total creep. Tried to commission me into some weird, non-con roleplay. Wanted to do a solo stream for just him, totally ignored all of my rules for that stuff, and outright told me to ‘Just suck it up’ when I used the safeword for some of the shit he was saying about me.” Daniel shivers, and for a moment, Max looks like he wants to strangle the man until his boyfriend squeezes his shoulder. Charles's blood runs cold.

“What?!” Charles looks over the username again. MattiaBinn. “Jesus fucking—Je le tuerai moi-même pour avoir voulu que je fasse une telle chose avec elle—”

“English, Charles.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” Charles growls, and starts to march right towards the door, “I need to talk to her right now—”

“Or maybe we need to give her time to cool down,” Daniel reaches towards him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him backward. “She probably still needs some space and to take care of herself after the stream, regardless of how much aftercare you did with her.”

Part of Charles hates that Daniel’s right. Another part of him says that no, you should be letting him take care of you. That’s what his job was as your dom, he was supposed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t experience sub-drop. You deserve only the best, and right now he’s not acting like that. Quite frankly, he’s being a bit of a self-righteous prick about his own feelings for you.

His phone pings with a notification, and out of pure irritation, he considers silencing it, until he sees it’s an email from a frankly disturbing email address. From: Mattia Binotto. Subject: Commissioned Private Stream.

“Oh, putain de merde,” Charles groans, and quickly scans through the email. It’s exactly as Daniel described. Non-con, harsher treatment, and quite honestly, the opposite of nearly everything Charles did as a dom and that you would agree to. Infuriatingly, your business email has also been sent this. You text him not a second after he’s done scanning it.

Did you also get this?

It seems… uhm, interesting.

Attached is a screenshot of the email. You’re awake, at the very least. Alert enough to be checking your business email. He texts back quickly.

I’m not doing any of that.

That’s not the shit I do. Fuck.

…okay.

Sorry, you seem to be in a bad mood.

It’s not your fault

Please don’t blame yourself for any of this, mon doudou

I kinda feel like it is…

I didn’t mean to push any boundaries or make you upset about this

I am sorry, Charles.

Charles wants to bash his head against the wall because now he feels like utter shit for making you feel guilty about his own stupidity. Just as he’s about to text you back you send him a goodnight text. When Daniel glances at the screen he visibly winces.

“Yeah. I’d give her some space.”

Space turns into a week. Instead of the normal collab stream, you do a solo one. Charles ends up watching it. You’ve got an array of toys behind you, most pretty pastel colors or swirling abstract designs that make an odd pit settle in his stomach at the idea of them bringing you pleasure rather than him.

You’re currently fucking yourself on a dildo he’d gifted you, shaped like… certain sweet treat. It was meant to be a bit of a gag gift— the name of it was called the banana split, for Christ’s sake— but seeing you fuck yourself on it made him groan, palming the hardness in his pants as you gasped and whined. You were wearing one of his hoodies too, muffling your little noises into the sleeves. And the chat was loving it, encouraging you to keep going.

And then the fucking donation showed up from that fucking prick Mattia.

Needy little thing. Do you think you deserve to cum? (€50)

The robot voice that read out the message had you whining, and you momentarily pause, before slowly lifting your hoodie to give the cam a better view, showing the slight bulge in your tummy from the toy resting inside of you before you started to bounce up and down on it again, rutting your hips forward as if that could provide some respite for the high you were chasing.

“Y-Yes—wanna cum—” Your face is hidden, as per usual, just off-screen, but at the very top, he can see how your chin wobbles a bit as if you’re currently panting with an open mouth, “Please please please please—”

Hold it. Not yet. Needy little sluts only get what they need when they’re good. (€50)

Rage bubbles in Charles’ stomach. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was, first of all, calling you a needy slut, and then acting like you were his to take care of. Charles makes a note to ban him from both of your chats as soon as this is over.

He can tell by your posture that you look startled, and the chat mixed. Some are telling Mattia to fuck off, while others are encouraging you to listen because Charles isn’t there. You whimper, confused, and Charles nearly screams, sprinting to get to his keys while the stream continues on his phone. He knows how insane he must look, having porn very audibly playing on his phone, but he doesn’t care, not as he starts his car and calls you. He can hear the phone in the background of your stream, and you whine even louder, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on the toy pausing.

“Fuck, doudou, pick up,” Charles groans, his driving becomes more and more reckless as he gets closer to your apartment. “Pick up!”

The sounds of your stream seem to pause, and there’s a rustle as you move, hopefully reaching for the phone and—

Did I say you could do that, slut? Or are you too stupid to listen to directions? (€50)

Charles roars as he hears you let out a pathetic whine, followed by sniffles. How dare Mattia insult you like that, how dare he make you feel unsafe when you should be feeling nothing but safe and loved. He was going to find him. He was going to find whoever this Mattia Binotto was and beat the tar out of him.

“M’sorry— wanna be good—”

“You are good,” Charles’ mouth is dry, right as he pulls outside the front of your flat, with a half-assed park job that’s likely going to get him a ticket if he stays there until morning. “You’re so good, mon petit doudou, just hold on,”

You’re not being good now. Apologize, you useless little slut. No wonder your dom isn’t here. What a spoiled little sub. (€50)

Charles fiddles with the lock, searching for the spare you’d told him about, hidden under a fake rock right off of your stoop. He opens the door, nearly forgets to close it behind him, and screams out your name as he tears through the kitchen.

Find your biggest toy for me. And show us how badly it hurts. Do it if you want to be good for me (€50)

When he manages to get to your room, you’re startled by his sudden appearance, and so is the chat. There’s a new, much larger toy positioned under you, the tip just brushing against your folds. The first thing that Charles does is cut the camera. The next thing he does is end the stream. A final donation, clearly placed before the stream ended appears on the screen, all the notifications from the tip jar making a discordant melody with your hiccuping sobs and Charles’ panting.

The donation makes him see red.

Fuck yourself. Slow. Let me hear you cry. (€50)

You let out a whimper, shaking, as you sink onto the toy, only to be scooped up by Charles. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s knocking around the toys and is probably making his possessive reputation worse. He’s not going to let you hurt yourself because some fucking pervert got in your head, and he’s furious that you’ve fallen for the same manipulation he did.

“M’sorry— m’sorry, I wanna be good—”

“You’re so good, tu es si bon pour moi,” Charles croons, rocking you back and forth, holding you close as you cry into his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of that. Let me take care of you.”

It takes nearly thirty minutes to get you to stop crying. You keep your face pressed into his shoulder, shaking as Charles soothes you, humming softly to you. He speaks in French, knowing that you enjoy the way his voice sounds when he speaks it.

“Can you tell me where you are, Doudou?”

“In my bed,”

“Wonderful job, so smart for me,” Charles praises, kissing your forehead softly. Your grip tightens on his shirt, and he can feel a small huff of air against his skin when you breathe out. “And what’s my name?”

“Charles. You’re Charles.” You murmur. “How did you get in here…?”

“Spare key.” He shifts so that you can look at him, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes under one of your eyes, the skin sticky from tears. “I was… I was watching the stream.”

“Oh.” You lean against his chest, letting him stroke up and down your back. You nuzzle into the collar of the hoodie. Charles presses his nose into your hairline, inhaling your scent, while keeping his lips against your forehead. “So you….saw…”

“He’s banned. It’s the same guy from the commission email.” There’s a hint of rage in his voice, which fades the moment your nose nudges under his chin, dislodging him from your hairline.

“Thanks.” He can feel the curve of your lips turning into a smile as you nuzzle into him further. “My hero. Taking care of me, even when you’re upset.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Charles’ voice catches in his throat at the admission, pulling away enough to look down at you. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face, and a sleepy look in your eyes.

“It could be nice,” You murmur again, shyer than before. “You and me, couldn’t it?”

“I think it could be more than nice,” His lips are so close to yours, enough so that he can feel your breath against them. Charles has been balls-deep in you. Has fucked into you until you cream around his cock and sobbed out his name. But this is quite possibly the most intimate thing he’s ever done with you. “Really, really nice.”

The taste of your lips on his is divine as he holds onto your waist with one hand, and cups your face with the other. You giggle when he pulls away to catch his breath, and before he can even stop himself, he’s grinning and pressing you into the bed, blowing a raspberry against your cheek just to hear your shrill laughter and feel the butterflies in his stomach that appear every time you laugh around him.

“Mon petit Doudou,” He can’t stop the grin on his face as he kisses all over your face, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Your hair is fanning around your head like a halo. Your smile is infectious. And he can see a few blooms from your tattoos under the neckline of your hoodie. His hoodie. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” You respond, curling into him happily as the two of you lay in your bed.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you

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cera-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Like Nothing Matters

A/N: It's finally done!! I've been dying to write this one. This is based on the song 'Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party' Pairing: Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x F!Reader Tags: jealousy, one sided pining, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, nsfw themes Summary: Reader has been pining for Remy's attention for as long as she can remember. But his attention has always been for Rogue. He's been using reader for sex, something he could never have with Rogue. Reader is tired of being used so she gives Remy an ultimatum.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city as Remy LeBeau leaned against the sleek, cherry-red convertible. His eyes were fixed on Rogue and Magneto, who stood a few feet away, their bodies close in a way that spoke of more than just mentor and student. Remy's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Remy," you called softly, stepping up beside him. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking at the sight that always seemed to pain him. "You know you can't—"

"Gambit know what he can't have," he snapped, cutting you off. His voice was sharp, but there was a raw vulnerability beneath the surface. "But dat don' mean he can't want it."

I have my sentence now

At last I know just how you felt

You swallowed hard, your own feelings for Remy bubbling to the surface like acid. You'd been in love with him for so long, watching him pine after Rogue while you were right here, longing for him to see you. "Maybe we should go," you suggested, hoping to distract him from the scene before him.

Remy didn't respond immediately. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly before he nodded. "Yeah, let's get outta here."

He led you to the convertible, sliding into the driver's seat with a practiced ease. You settled into the passenger seat, the soft leather cool against your skin. The engine roared to life, the sound echoing through the quiet street as Remy peeled away from the curb.

The city lights blurred into streaks of color as they sped through the streets, the wind whipping through your hair. You glanced at Remy, his profile illuminated by the passing lights, his expression unreadable. You reached out, your hand resting on his knee, a silent offer of comfort.

Remy glanced at you, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. "Ya really wanna do dis?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "Do what?"

"Dis," he said, his hand covering yours, squeezing gently. "Us. Right now. Here."

I dig my fingers in, expecting more than just the skin

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing. You knew what this could mean, what it could lead to. But you also knew the risk, the potential heartbreak. "Are you sure?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Remy didn't answer. Instead, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the tires screeching slightly as they came to a halt. He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Remy need dis," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "He need... something."

You nodded, understanding more than he might realize. "Okay," you breathed, your resolve strengthening. "Let's do this."

Remy leaned in, his lips brushing against yours gently at first, then deepening the kiss with a desperate urgency. You responded, your hands finding his face, pulling him closer. The world around you faded away, the only reality the two of you, locked in this stolen moment.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch both familiar and thrilling. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss intensified. The car seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with desire. This was the sum of your relationship with Remy. It all boiled down to sex. You were a means to an end, nothing more.

'Cause we're a lot alike

In favor, like a motorbike

A sailor and a nightingale

Dancing in convertibles

"You can hold me," you murmured against his lips, your voice shaky with emotion. "Like he held her."

Remy froze for a moment, the words piercing through the haze of lust. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "And whatta 'bout you, chere?" he asked, his voice raw. "What do ya want?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I guess I'll just keep fucking you like nothing matters," you confessed, the truth spilling out before you could stop it.

Remy's eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He didn't speak, his silence heavy between you. Instead, he kissed you again, his hands moving with a newfound intensity, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn't get close enough.

You let a soft moan escape your lips at his sudden urgency, wrapping your hands around his neck as your fingers entangled in his hair. The car rocked gently, the sounds of the city muted outside as you lost yourself in each other. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a secret shared, a betrayal of sorts, yet it was a connection you both craved. It was reckless, wild, and utterly consuming.

As the moments stretched into what felt like hours, you clung to Remy, your body melding with his, your hearts beating in sync despite the chaos of your emotions. You knew this couldn't last, that it was a temporary escape from the realities of your lives. But in this moment, with Remy, it felt like everything else ceased to exist.

"Remy," you whispered, your voice hoarse with passion. "Please..."

He kissed you fiercely, his response a mix of desperation and tenderness. You arched against him, your body aching for more, for completion. The world outside the car faded away, the only reality the two of you, intertwined in this stolen moment. The windows were fogged up past the point of no return as you gripped onto the seat, your breaths mingling in the confined space.

The night grew deeper, the city quieter as you explored each other, each movement fueled by a hunger that seemed insatiable. It was raw, primal, a dance of bodies and souls that defied logic and reason.

As the final moments approached, you clung to Remy, your breaths mingling in the dimly lit space. Your bodies moved together, a symphony of pleasure and pain, of longing and release. It was brutal and beautiful, a testament to the complexity of human desires.

"Remy!" you gasped, your voice breaking as the climax washed over you.

He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his release. You held him tightly, your fingers digging into his back, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily between you.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the ragged breathing, the thud of your hearts trying to find a steady rhythm. You stayed locked in each other's arms, the aftermath of passion leaving you both vulnerable and exposed.

Eventually, Remy lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. There was a depth to his gaze, a mixture of regret and wonder. "Dat was..." he began, his voice husky.

"Intense," you finished for him, your own voice tinged with uncertainty.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Intense."

You shifted slightly, adjusting your clothes as you tried to gather your thoughts. He helped you fix the strap on your tank top. The air in the car felt charged, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. You wanted to ask him what this meant, where it left you both. But the words stuck in your throat, too afraid of the answers.

Remy cleared his throat, his gaze shifting towards the window. "We should probably head back," he said, his voice strained.

You nodded, even though part of you wanted to protest, to demand more from him. But you knew better than to push. Not yet, at least. "Yeah, okay," you agreed, your tone resigned.

We've got the highway tight

The moon is bursting with headlights

One more and we're away

Love tender in your Chevrolet

He started the car, the engine roaring back to life as he pulled back onto the road. The city lights blurred once more, the world outside a kaleidoscope of colors. You watched it all pass by, your mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions.

As the car wound its way through the streets, you stole glances at Remy, trying to read his mood. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You wondered if he was thinking of Rogue, or if, perhaps, for the first time, he was considering the possibility of something more with you.

The thought both thrilled and terrified you. You wanted him to see you, to acknowledge the depth of your feelings. But you also feared the rejection, the potential heartbreak. It was a delicate balance, one you struggled to maintain as the miles ticked by.

Finally, the car slowed, turning into the driveway of your residence. Remy parked the vehicle, the engine idling quietly as he stared straight ahead. You waited, unsure of what to say, what to do.

"Thanks for... tonight," he said eventually, his voice low. "It meant a lot, mon ami."

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. "Yeah. Anytime."

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Can I see ya again? Properly?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and hopeful. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Um... yeah. I'd like that," you answered honestly, your voice trembling slightly.

Remy smiled, a genuine warmth lighting up his features. "Good. 'Cause Remy think he might need ya."

You returned his smile, relief flooding through you. "Then I'll be here," you promised, your voice strong.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. It was brief, tender, a promise of more to come. Then he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours. "Until next time, cher," he murmured, his voice soft.

You nodded, your heart full as you watched him exit the car. The door shut quietly, the sound echoing through the stillness. You remained seated, your mind a whirl of thoughts and feelings.

As the car engine purred to life once more, you knew that whatever happened next, you were in it together. For better or worse, you had claimed your place in Remy's life, and he in yours. It was a beginning, a fragile hope amidst the chaos of your worlds.

The car pulled away from the curb, the headlights slicing through the darkness. You watched it disappear down the street, your heart swelling with a mix of anticipation and fear. But as the taillights faded into the distance, you knew one thing for certain: you were ready for whatever came next.

It was Saturday finally.

The sun had barely begun to dip below the horizon when Remy LeBeau, clad in his signature leather jacket and a mischievous grin, revved the engine of his black motorbike outside your house. You heard the deep rumble from inside, a sound that always sent a shiver down your spine—in more ways than one. Today was different, though. Today, he wasn't just here for a casual fling; he had something else on his mind.

You stepped out onto the porch, dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress that hugged your curves just right. Remy's eyes lingered on you a moment longer than usual, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he offered you a helmet with a flourish. "Ready to ride, chere?" he asked, his voice smooth as velvet.

Nodding, you straddled the bike behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist instinctively. The familiar warmth of his body against yours should have been comforting, but there was an edge to it today, a tension that hadn't been there before. As he pulled away from the curb, the wind whipping through your hair, you couldn't help but wonder what tonight held in store.

The city lights blurred past as Remy weaved through traffic, his skill on the bike as impressive as ever. You clung tighter, your body pressed against his back, feeling the subtle shifts of muscle as he maneuvered. It was during these moments, when the world outside faded into a blur of motion, that you felt most connected to him—or at least, you had thought so until now.

After what felt like an eternity but was really just a few thrilling minutes, Remy slowed the bike to a stop in front of an old, ornate theater you hadn't noticed before. The marquee glowed with the words "Love Unmasked," a play that seemed oddly fitting given the circumstances.

Remy helped you off the bike, his hands lingering on your hips longer than necessary. "Thought we could start with a bit of culture," he said, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his usually confident tone.

Inside, the theater was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and anticipation. Remy led you to your seats, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. The proximity sent a thrill through you, but it was tempered by the realization that this wasn't just another date. Something had changed, and you weren't sure you were ready for whatever it was.

As the lights dimmed and the curtain rose, you tried to focus on the stage, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. His leg brushed against yours occasionally, a silent invitation or perhaps a plea for understanding. The play, a tale of hidden identities and forbidden love, seemed to mirror your own situation eerily.

Halfway through the performance, Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Chere, dere's somethin' Gambit need to tell you," he murmured, his voice low and urgent.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What is it, Remy?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering around the nearly empty theater before meeting yours again. "Remy... Remy think he been a fool," he admitted, his expression raw with emotion. "He thought he was jus' usin' you, but... he can't deny it anymore. Chere, I'm in love with you."

The confession hung heavy in the air between you, a mix of shock and relief washing over you. You had sensed something shifting, but hearing it aloud was both terrifying and exhilarating. "Remy..." you began, unsure of what to say.

Before you could respond, he continued, his voice tinged with desperation. "Remy know he don't deserve you, not after how he treated you, but he can't go on like this. Not knowin' if ya feel the same."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the calluses from years of card-playing and thievery. "Remy, I..."

But the rest of your response was cut off by the sudden burst of applause as the actors took their bows. The spell was broken, the moment lost in the noise of the crowd. Remy looked away, frustration and regret etched across his features. "We should go," he said quietly, standing up and offering you his hand.

Outside, the night had grown cooler, the air crisp with the promise of autumn. Remy helped you back onto the bike, his movements mechanical, distant. As he started the engine, the roar seemed louder than before, a stark contrast to the quietude of his demeanor.

The ride back was silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts. The weight of Remy's confession lingered, a heavy burden neither of you knew how to bear. When he finally stopped in front of your house, he turned off the engine and faced you, his eyes searching yours for some sign of what to do next.

"Tonight... it meant a lot to Remy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He jus' need to know... d'you feel de same?"

You swallowed hard, the truth bubbling up inside you, desperate to be set free. "Remy..."

And we're a lot alike

In favor, like a motorbike

A sailor and a nightingale

Dancing in convertibles

You leaned in, your lips meeting Remy's in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes more than words ever could. The intensity of the moment seemed to shatter the silence that had enveloped you both. As you pulled him inside, the door to your place closed behind you with a soft thud, sealing the night and its revelations within.

Remy's hands found your waist, then moved upward, his grip firm as he pressed you against the wall. His kisses were sloppy yet hungry, each one a desperate claim on the emotions swirling between you. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck, the scratch of his stubble adding an edge to the tenderness.

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

With a hand on Remy's chest, you gently pushed back, creating space between you. He looked at you with concern. "You wan' me to stop, chere?"

"Remy," you whispered, looking into his eyes, "are you sure this is what you want? There are no more lingering feelings for Rogue on your part?"

His expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his features before he steadied himself. "Chere," he said, his voice resolute, "Gambit is leavin' all dat in de past now. You... you're his future."

The sincerity in his words washed over you, a wave of relief and acceptance. You nodded, understanding the weight of his confession and the promise it held. Without another word, you drew him close again, your lips finding his once more, this time with a shared certainty that echoed through every touch, every kiss.

The night unfolded around you, each moment a step into the unknown, guided by the fragile thread of newfound love.

As you led Remy upstairs, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. The soft glow from a nearby lamp cast long shadows along the walls, adding an intimate ambiance to the space. You could feel Remy's eyes on you, his gaze intense and unwavering as he followed close behind.

Entering your bedroom, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. Remy stepped closer, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been simmering between you both.

"Chere," he murmured against your lips, "Gambit wants to show you how much y'mean to him."

You nodded, your breath mingling with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Remy's hands trailed down your back, his touch electric as he slowly began to undress you. Slowly unzipping your dress revealed more of your skin to his appreciative gaze, his eyes darkening with desire.

As you stood before him, bare and vulnerable, Remy's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve with a tenderness that spoke of his deep affection. You gasped as his fingers found sensitive spots, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through you.

Remy lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he laid you down gently. He hovered above you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he lowered himself, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again, this time with an urgency that left no doubt about his intentions.

The room filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the rustle of sheets as Remy made love to you with a passion that was both fierce and tender. His movements were deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his feelings, each caress a promise of his devotion. It was almost like this was your real first time together, like you were seeing each other in a new light finally, without the veil of pretending.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. The world narrowed down to just the two of you, the intensity of the moment consuming all else. Remy's voice, hoarse with emotion, whispered endearments in your ear, his Cajun accent thickening with each word.

"Je t'aime, chere," he breathed, his words a balm to your soul. "Remy loves you more than anythin'."

As the climax approached, the energy between you both reached a crescendo. With a final, powerful thrust, Remy shattered the headboard, the wood splintering loudly in your bedroom. You cried out, your voice merging with his as release washed over you both.

For a long while, you lay tangled together, the aftermath of passion leaving you breathless and sated. Remy propped himself up on his elbows, a mix of guilt and amusement playing across his features as he surveyed the damage.

"Damn... guess Gambit got a bit carried away," he admitted sheepishly, his hand stroking your hair tenderly. "But don't worry, chere, he'll buy ya a new one. A better one."

You laughed, the sound rich and warm, as you pulled him down for another kiss. "I think this one will do for now," you replied, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "But maybe we should test the new one first, make sure it's sturdy enough."

Remy grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Challenge accepted, chere," he said, rolling onto his side to face you. "But right now, Gambit just wants to hold you. Feel you next to him."

You nestled closer, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling. The night outside grew deeper, but inside, the room was filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature. As sleep began to claim you, you felt Remy's hand tighten around yours, a silent promise of his presence and protection.

The next day dawned bright and clear, the sun casting a golden glow over the city as Remy and you stepped out into the morning light. The air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of change, much like the shift in your relationship with Remy.

He ushered you on the back of his bike. Remy seemed pensive, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a seriousness that spoke volumes about his internal struggle.

As you approached the Xavier Institute, the place where Rogue and Magneto had their shared quarters, Remy paused, his hand tightening around yours as you both hopped off his bike. "Chere, Remy need to do dis," he said, his voice low but resolute.

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in support. "I'm right here with you," you assured him, offering a small, encouraging smile.

Together, you entered the building, the atmosphere inside charged with the energy of the mutants who called this place home. Remy led you through the corridors, his steps purposeful as he navigated towards Rogue's room.

When you arrived at her door, Remy took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He knocked, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hall. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Rogue, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you both.

"Remy? What's going on?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Remy stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Rogue, we need to talk," he said, his tone serious.

Rogue glanced at you, then back at Remy, her brow furrowing. "Sure, come in," she replied, stepping aside to let you both enter.

Inside, the room was cozy, filled with personal items that spoke of Rogue's personality. Remy sat down on the edge of her bed, while you remained standing near the door, giving them space but ready to offer support if needed.

"What's this about, Remy?" Rogue asked, her gaze shifting between the two of you.

Remy hesitated, his hands clenching slightly before he spoke. "Rogue, we can't keep doin' dis. Pretending dat what we had is enough when it ain't."

Rogue's face paled, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you saying, Remy?"

"I'm saying that I'm moving on," Remy admitted, his voice firm despite the pain etched across his features. "Gambit care about you, Rogue, but not in de way he should. Not in the way that makes me happy. Gambit can't keep holding onto to de thought dat we could be somethin' one day. I'm sorry, chere."

Rogue's gaze flicked to you, her expression hardening. "And is this because of her?" she demanded, pointing at you, a look of hurt flashing across her features.

Remy shook his head, his voice steady. "No, it's not jus' cause of her. It's cause of Gambit. Cause he finally realized dat he deserve more, and so does she."

Rogue stood up, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "So, what? You're just going to throw away everything we had for some new fling? I mean... can't say I hardly blame you. I know Magneto and I-"

Remy shushed her, standing as well, his eyes meeting hers directly. "It's not a fling, Rogue. It's real, and it's what Remy need. What we both need."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Rogue processed Remy's words. Finally, she nodded, her voice thick with emotion. "Fine. If that's what you want, then go."

Remy's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned to you, offering his hand. You took it without hesitation, your heart heavy but determined.

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

As you walked out of the room, leaving Rogue behind, you felt a mix of relief and sadness. Remy's hand was warm in yours, a tangible symbol of the new path you were walking together.

Outside, the sun had reached its zenith, bathing the world in light. Remy stopped suddenly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. "You okay wit' dis?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

You smiled, though it wobbled slightly at the edges. "I'm okay with us, Remy. With whatever comes next, although, please don't feel like you two can't remain friends on my behalf."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting his warmth seep into your bones.

As you stood there, lost in the moment, Remy's hand drifted down to your ass, his fingers gently squeezing. You gasped softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

"Let's go somewhere else," he murmured against your ear, his voice husky with desire. "Somewhere we can be alone."

Nodding, you pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wrapping your arms around his middle, you both rode away from the Xavier Institute, leaving behind the ghosts of the past as you stepped into the unknown future, ready to face it together, side by side.

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me, like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters, ooh

#xmen #x men 97 #cera writes #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 8 months ago

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The Spaghetti Squash (The Surprise, Part 12)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, literally so much fluff, just fluff on fluff on fluff, some explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: As your pregnancy progresses, Emily starts to feel disconnected from the experience, sad that she can't feel what you're feeling. She tries to control what she can, but you help her see that letting go isn't the worst thing in the world.

Week 22: The Spaghetti Squash

“What about that one, Em? It’s pretty.”

You pointed to Emily’s laptop screen, at a nice, oval crib, made of natural wood. Very modern looking.

“Honey, I don’t care if it’s pretty. I care that it’s safe.”

“Well, I care if it's pretty. Click on it and see!” you badgered her, yawning.

You leaned heavily on Emily’s shoulder, trying hard to keep your eyes open. You’d been scrolling through baby site after baby site for nearly two hours now, checking things off Emily’s ridiculously extensive shopping list. Normally, you’d be interested. The problem was that Emily had to do a solid half hour of research into each and every item.

“Bossy…” Emily mumbled, lifting up her arm so you could snuggle into her chest. She scrolled through the page, looking at all of the crib’s features.

“Look!” You pointed at the screen. “It converts to a toddler bed and a kid bed. So it can grow up with her.”

“And it’s GreenGuard Gold Certified!”

“Wow.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Adorable.”

“Hey,” she protested, pinching the skin under your arm. You squirmed and giggled. “I’m keeping him safe. You can keep him cute.”

You yawned again, shutting your eyes for a moment and sinking into her.

“Y/N,” Emily cooed, cupping your cheek and rubbing her thumb against it. “Stay awake, baby. You promised we’d get through five things tonight.”

You groaned, noncommittal.

“Y/N,” she prompted again, this time patting your face lightly.

“I didn’t know it was gonna take literal hours…” you grumbled.

“Here,” she said, lifting you up a bit and kissing your cheek. “You can pick what we look for next. Something fun.”

You squinted at her.

Her eyes were huge, and she had that hopeful, pleading half-smile that she knew would get you to do anything. As a final blow, she bit the corner of her lip. Fuck. She was just too irresistible, it wasn’t fair.

“Ugh. Fine.” You stretched and sat up as Emily placed the laptop in your hands.

“What do you want to look for?” she asked, looping her arm around yours and rubbing her thumb against your bare skin. She placed a quick kiss on your shoulder and nuzzled into your neck.

“Crib sheets?” you suggested, perking up. “I found a brand I really like.”

“Are they–”

“Green, gold, whatever-the-fuck certified?”

She blushed a bit. “Yes,” she said softly.

At this rate, you'd spend another hour and a half with Emily deep-diving on crib sheets.

“Emily,” you sighed, turning to look at her. “You are the love of my life and the mother of my child and I love you more than breathing. But for fuck’s sake, you’ve gotta cool it a little bit.”

Her eyes turned a little sad, a little embarrassed.

You continued, a bit softer now. “I know it’s just because you love her and you want to keep her safe. And I know it’s hard for you right now because I’m the one who’s carrying and I can feel her moving and this is the only thing you can control. But, baby, I promise you that a couple of 100% organic cotton crib sheets that might not have that super special certification aren’t gonna kill her.”

Emily was quiet. You turned to hold her face in your hands, tracing her angles, all her lines–you knew them better than you knew your own body. She smiled a little as you brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead.

“Maybe you should be a profiler,” she chuckled, leaning into you and looking at the website you’d pulled up. “Goddamn.”

“Sorry,” you said, drawing her to your chest and tucking her head under your chin. “That was a little harsh.”

“No, you’re right.” Emily exhaled deeply and nodded. “Alright, let’s see these sheets.”

Your stomach did a little flip, excited to share one of your finds with Emily. So far, she’d picked most of the things, and you’d let her, knowing that the lack of control was hard for her.

“Okay.” You scrolled and clicked on a crib sheet, crisp white and covered with tiny dinosaurs. “I mean, look! It’s got little brontosauruses!”

In a rare show of letting go, Emily squeezed your arm and said, “Add it to the cart.”

“Really!?” you squealed.

“Yeah, of course, honey. It's cute.”

You kept scrolling, but Emily stopped your wrist. “Oh, baby, look at that one! It’s got bananas!”

“Adding it,” you decided with a dramatic click.

After a few more minutes of looking through crib sheets, you’d placed your order and shut the laptop for the evening, proud to have made it through all five of Emily’s predetermined list items. You knew you both needed to go to bed, but you were just so comfy sprawled on the couch. Emily’s head rested on your baby bump, and you carded your fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so controlling about the shopping,” she whispered out of the blue.

“It’s okay, honey,” you said, softly massaging her head.

“No, it’s not,” she sighed. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t letting you pick anything.”

“Em, I promise it’s okay.”

She didn’t answer, instead running her hands along the side of your belly, as if feeling for something, anything.

“Has he been moving tonight?” she asked, her voice almost sad.

“Mmhm.” You hated to see her sad. You wished so desperately that she could feel what you were feeling. You didn’t want her to feel left out of the pregnancy. You didn’t want her to feel any less the baby’s mom than you were.

“Tell me what it feels like.”

You thought for a moment. “Mm… kind of like butterflies. Or, like, when you’re nervous and your stomach does a flip.”

She was quiet again, and you pulled her face up to your chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head. “It’s gonna be okay, Em. You’re her mom, too.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

“You know, I think the baby can feel you.”

“What?” She lifted her head a bit, looking at you quizzically.

“Maybe you can’t feel her yet, but I bet she can feel you. She can hear you, and I read today that babies feel their mom’s emotions.”

Emily looked up at you, her eyes shining a bit.

“I always feel happy and safe and loved when you’re with me. And that’s what she feels, too. She can hear you and she feels those things when you’re around because I feel them. So she knows you’re here. She can feel you.”

Emily blinked back a few tears and pressed her face to your stomach, planting a few kisses on your baby bump.

“I love you,” she whispered to your stomach, and you thought you might cry, too.

“Can you hear me, little one? I love you. Maman loves you so much.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry, trying (and mostly failing) not to let your overwhelming love for this woman turn you into an absolute puddle. For neither the first time nor the last, you were utterly flabbergasted that this was your life. That there was a baby inside you, growing strong and healthy. That the baby would have two moms, something you’d never thought possible when you were growing up, imagining your future. And, best of all, that you had Emily. Sweet, strong, beautiful Emily. Who loved you so well. Who made you so happy you sometimes thought you'd explode with it. How did you get so lucky? How was it that, despite it all, despite all the tragedies, big and small, along the way, you’d somehow stumbled into a life so good that it was, quite literally, beyond your wildest dreams?

“I love you, Em,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself or stop the tears from brimming in your eyes.

She looked up at you, and you could tell she was happy, truly happy. And if you could do nothing else in your entire life except make this woman happy, you’d die satisfied.

She sat up a bit, pulling on the collar of your shirt to draw you into a kiss. A soft kiss, one that you melted into, one that reminded you of your very first. All butterflies and excitement for what was to come.

“I love you, too,” she said, pressing her forehead to yours. “So much.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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cloversnstrawberries · 23 days ago

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platonic!yandere!alastor & 1950s!teen!gn!reader ! ! [chap. one]

series masterlist !

description; You know where you were, and there was no kidding yourself on it. After taking in your surroundings, you stood from where you'd woken up and headed out of the patch of stinging nettle. You didn't know what your plan was, but it definitely wasn't to get stalked and subsequently chased by a very tall, inhuman deer-man.

additional notes; woo!! this chapter introduces alastor, but it's pretty much just at the end. reader does not have a good time. have you ever been stung by a stinging nettle? i haven't, but i saw my brother get stung on his leg by one and. and it's such a funny yet terrifying sight to see a 6'1 20 y/o scream like a banshee and run around like a mad man because he brushed up against a plant. it's not fun (he told me so himself). i hope you enjoy, i, once again, had a lot of fun writing this!! there might be typos to begin with, but i'm usually much better at catching them after publishing fics (i don't know how it works D:) so i'll probably be coming in and out to fix them :]]

warnings; general terror, anxiety, isolation, lots of religious references (enough to be tagged)/mentions of sunday school, mentions of death + death of friends, grief, reader is terrified for their life, gratuitous use of symbolism done by yours truly, being 'hunted', Alastor is referred to an 'it' (this will change in the next chapter when he introduces himself), and let me know if i missed any major ones !! :D

w/c; 3.0k

You just sat there for a while, looking around. There was no trace of whatever had killed you, whether you’d succumbed to the blood or the unspecified brain injury you definitely sustained-- there was no lingering lightheadedness or nausea.

Physically, you felt… fine. Your mouth felt crowded to the point of discomfort, your hands felt quite heavy because of the claws now adorning the ends of them--

And you’re pretty sure you’d landed on your tail. Yes, you have a tail. At first, you couldn't believe, that you'd fall down into hell and suddenly gain a tail; but you’d shifted around and pulled the large, furry mass from where it’d been pinned underneath you.

There was no beating around the bush with it, you had a tail now; and you were pretty damn accepting of it.

…Or you were just too tired to care. Not physically so, but mentally. You could hardly believe it, that in such a short amount of time, so much had changed.

One moment, you’d been happily hanging out with your friends, and the next you were in a car accident, hunted down the spoiled brat that caused it (because God knows he would’ve gotten away with it on account of his filthy rich folks) and slaughtered him.

With that in mind, you completely understood why exactly you were in hell, surrounded by a bunch of stinging nettles-- you looked down to your left, having felt something brush against your hand. It didn’t feel like stinging nettle at all.

When you looked down, you saw a small patch of 4 Zinnias. One was yellow, another orange, then a hot pink, and the last a bright cherry red.

You don’t know what it was about those flowers, but something stirred deep in your in response. Those were their colors, you’d realized. And maybe it was just one big coincidence, a fluke that the yellow was the exact shame shade of the cardigan Lorraine had been wearing. Or that the orange reminded you of Rudy’s carrot-top hair, or that the hot pink was exactly the color of Marnie’s cat eye-framed glasses��

Or that the red was awfully too close to the color of Matty’s Chevy convertible that he’d so lovingly named “Sheila”.

It was silly that spotting the flowers was what got you to stand, to finally get off your ass and leave the field you’d woken up in. But no matter how silly the reasoning was, at least you finally stood, right?

You considered being slow with it-- it'd be leagues safer then just yanking yourself upright and immediately heading out. But you weren't really thinking clearly on that end-- you just wanted away from the flowers.

It was stupid. It was stupid, the unease you felt because of those-- but something in the back of your mind reminded you about unit you'd done in home economics the year prior.

You don't know why it was required by the curriculum to learn how to pick just the right flowers for a gift (in the case of the boys in the class), or to decorate your home with (regarding the girls, which you thought was ridiculous that there was a separation between the two, but you could do nothing about it). You thought it was a little silly, but your teacher at least tried to make it entertaining.

She included a mini-history lesson, something that brought back some of the history parts of the etiquette unit done the previous semester. The Victorian language of flowers,

You couldn't remember what zinnia's represented, but you don't remember it being anything good. You think it's something relating to grief, and at that point you put a hard stop to anymore prying into the subject.

When you stood, you stumbled a bit. For a split second, fear shot through you-- were you still affected by the brain injury? did that carry over, and you just hadn't noticed until you stood suddenly?-- but those fears were replaced with annoyance at what you figured out to be the actual cause.

Weight distribution and whatnot, you weren't used to your ears being on top of your head instead of the sides-- so that messed with your balance just as much (or perhaps even more) than having to readjust for the added weight of your tail.

Luckily, you caught yourself before tripping face first into the stinging nettle right next to you. You'd put your foot down quick, just a hair away from brushing up against the plant.

"Shit!" You tried not to swear too often, but you felt like it was appropriate for the situation. You were quick to take a few steps back, relieved that you hadn't touched the plant.

One time, when you and your friends had been at sleepaway camp right before the start of freshman year, you and your friends had came across a patch of stinging nettle, smaller than the one you stood in now-- but still pretty sizable.

Rudy, ever the class clown, said he bet 10 bucks that he would jump into the nettle. Matty tried to discourage him, and Marnie had already preemptively turned her gaze away and covered her ears, readying for when he'd start screaming his head off (and boy, did he scream).

Lorraine was always the smartest, most level headed of the group. Though, at that point, she wasn't as used to Rudy's antics as the rest of you were; she took him up on the bet, thinking it'd make her an easy 10 dollars. That Rudy would chicken out.

He took off his shirt and jumped into the patch. It was awful, he'd jumped up almost immediately and started running like a bat out of hell-- he screamed so loud and so blood-curdlingly that camp counselors barreled to where your group was, afraid that someone had broken a leg or something of the sort.

When they got one look at the angry red welts on Rudy's back, they rolled their eyes-- you're sure they'd encountered more than a few risk takers that'd done close to same thing as Rudy had.

Rudy was always one to play up things for the laughs-- but that was one of the few times you were absolutely certain he wasn't doing anything to make it seem worse. It looked awful.

You weren't too keen on trying it for yourself, thank you very much. Eyeing the plant wearily, you made sure to steer as clear as possible of it as much as possible.

While you'd been sitting, you'd noticed a path right near where your head had been laying. You turned that way, and looked at it-- real closely, this time around.

It was pretty narrow, all things considered, but it was doable. It stretched on pretty far, but-- and this might be perspective, but it didn't seem that way-- it looked like it gradually widened about half a mile down.

Sure, it wasn't ideal, but this was hell, after all. You'd take what you could get, and you really didn't want to stay in this patch for any longer. You didn't know if hell had a day/night cycle, but if it did, and it turned to night-- you're sure that wouldn't spell anything but trouble for you.

Honestly, you could've probably walked straight forward-- like a normal person-- but for some reason, that still felt too close for comfort.

You felt something brush against your leg, and it didn't hurt-- but you didn't know how fast a nettle's sting settles in, so you snapped your head down and--

Huh.

Your tail-- which, you knew that, realistically speaking, it would move. Considering it's just another limb-- was swinging in agitation, and you hadn't meant to do it.

With a frown, you came up with a quick solution. You scooped it up with one arm and held it close to your chest with both. Then, not wanting to waste another second in this open field, you turned sideways and started cautiously making your way down the path, being painfully careful as to where you put your feet, or if you felt even a teensy bit off balance.

By the time you got to where the path widened-- thank God, you thought; even though He definitely had nothing to do with this strike of unexpected luck-- you took a chance and turned, no longer feeling the need to move sideways.

Most of the time, your eyes were focused whole-heartedly on the ground. Tracking where your feet were, if the path started narrowing again-- all of that fun stuff. But you made sure to look up a couple times, and look behind you as well. Just to be careful.

You don't know how long you'd been walking for. It must've been a while, probably a couple miles-- the sky was getting darker (and you mentally noted that hell did in fact have a day/night cycle. isn't that just swell?) and your feet were starting to hurt.

It felt like a miracle, that right as you started to get a little reckless with your footing-- hunger, exhaustion, and discomfort being one of the main sources of you being less and less cautious as the trek through the field wore on and on and on-- the end of the path was within sight,

However, it was a forest. Not a smart idea to go into-- even if it was day, the large trees would probably block any light from filtering through the leaves. You were certain it'd be awful in the dark, and all you had was the clothes on your back.

It was getting cold-- which surprised you. The temperature before was far from pleasant, it was what you'd expect from hell more or less. Scorching, to put it lightly; but it didn't affect you too badly-- maybe on account of your new biology made to better suit Hell's climate--

But it was cooling down, and it was cooling down fast. A shiver ran up your spine, a soft breeze turning into raging, cold wind that seemed to blast you from every which way.

In Sunday school, they didn't talk about hell much; it scared the kids, the idea that them, or a loved one, could go to such an awful place. It was a necessary evil when it came to discussing anything relating to God, however.

This... hell, it had to be hell-- felt worse then what you'd learn about. You've been here for hours, and have encountered not one person. Not one thing, nothing but plants and the fear of expectation.

This can't be all there is, rang out in your mind. It was terrifying, that hell seemed so similar to your time alive. A day/night cycle, temperatures that changed (even if it was from uncomfortably hot to uncomfortably cold).

As you thought about it more, you decided that maybe this was hell, your own personal one. You'd lived your life as someone who held friends and family in high regard-- you much preferred a night in than out, always opting for a cinema over a drive-in movie; but bending to your friend's wills if they so demanded.

To be stuck out here, in an unfamiliar field where there was no sign of someone-- something else, no trace that there had ever really been anyone else-- with by far one of your least favorite-- if not the least favorite-- plant being all your eye could see.

When you made it to the edge of the forest-- a nice little 'peace zone' between the nettles behind you and the foreboding, dark forest ahead of you, where there was just grass. Nothing more, nothing less-- you contemplated not going in.

Maybe... Maybe instead of a one-size fits all fire-and-brimstone, closed in with a bleeding stone ceiling and chains hanging down, the sound of screaming, tormented and damned souls being the only thing you could hear-- it was much more... personalized.

That seemed so, so much scarier than anything you learned in Sunday school. If you got a choice, you think you'd pick the other, only because it'd be predictable. You'd know what to expect.

And now, and you stand in front of the daunting forest ahead-- you find yourself torn between two worlds. On one hand, you can just stay here in this field. It's safer, if only by a little-- because you've been here for the past however-many hours, and not much had happened (save for a few close calls with the nettles you were carefully skirting around),

Still, staying out in the open didn't bode well in your mind. Going into the forest wasn't any better, it was just as scary as the nettle patch-- except for the fact that it was far more unfamiliar.

You must've stood there for at least 10, maybe even 20, minutes before finally making your decision. It was getting colder and colder-- you looked behind you, and despite how freezing it'd become, there was no frost covering the plants behind you.

Right. So, no 'hell freezing over' kind of situation. The temperature was just always set 100, whether that be in one direction or the other. Fine-- that's fine, i can deal with that you told yourself, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve what warmth you can,

Before stepping into the forest. The path had let right to an opening, a trail leading through the woods as well. You had full intention to follow it the whole way through, not wanting to stray off if possible.

You kept looking behind you, seeing the dim moonlight coming from the entrance growing further and further away-- when it was no longer visible, you swallowed hard and focused your gaze ahead.

This was fine.

You can deal with this.

This is just dandy, swell-- amazing! You're fine, you're okay. You aren't hurt, there's nothing behind you, there's nothing watching you, nothing hunting you despite what the deep-seeded prey drive in the back of your head tried to tell you--!

Snap!

You tried your best to not look back, but it was getting harder and harder as the moments went by. There no other noise, save for crickets chirping, and fireflies buzzing by (though, they didn't look like any fireflies you'd seen before, not while alive), and your own footsteps and shallow breathing.

Then, you stopped dead in your tracks. There was a fork in the path-- one leading down a steep hill, the other turning sharply into a more densely populated part of the forest. It was impossible to see all the way down the hill, or through the trees.

You stalled, not a smart choice, but... you didn't know what to do. The hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up, posture becoming more hunched as the cold feeling of dread curled in your gut and refused to leave you alone.

It went quiet.

Entirely so.

No crickets chirping, no fireflies buzzing, no wind rustling the trees-- nothing. Your ears began to ring oh-so suddenly, and you flinched. Clapping your hands over your ears, childishly hoping that'd fix-- or at least help-- the ringing in your ears, that was getting so loud you felt your brain starting to rattle in your skull,

You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing and pushing and pushing your hands harder and harder against your ears, and at some point, it seemed like you were trying to crush your skull into pieces out of pure desperation. Desperation for the ringing to just stop already!

Just when you felt your head was about to explode-- or implode, maybe; considering how much pressure you were putting on it-- the ringing stopped.

A hand was on your shoulder, but you didn't feel it settle there. You don't know long it'd been there-- it's a hand, you know that much. It was large, and clawed, and bony-- it didn't feel like a person's hand, so much as it felt like the hand of a monster. The kind that you'd ask your mom to check under your bed for as a small child,

Before you could properly react, besides the way your blood seemed to turn to solid ice in that second of realization and your eyes flying open, another hand-- just like the one on your shoulder, grabbed one of your wrists-- delicately, almost gentle, but a hidden threat lied beneath it-- and pulled it from your ear.

"Hello, my dea--!"

You turned around, and all you needed to get you rushing past the- the creature, the man(?) that stood before you was to realize just how tall it was, the antlers adorning it's head, it's red eyes that seemed to glow all on their own--

and oh.

oh god, those teeth, bared in what you assume was meant to be a friendly smile, but got horribly twisted upon execution-- it's mouth could be considered more of a maw then anything,

Before it could get another word, before it could even finish its damn sentence, you ripped your hand from it's grip-- it was loose, easy to pull your wrist from its clawed hands--

And swerved around it, taking off the way you came. You didn't dare look back, your tail trashed wildly with anxiety-- surely getting sticks and leaves and burrs stuck in it all the while, but you didn't care about that right now,

All you cared about was getting away from whatever the hell had just approached you.

A foolish, almost naive part of you assumed it wouldn't follow you. That it wasn't that interested in you, or that it'd already got its fun from spooking you like a flighty rabbit.

The laugh that seemed to trail after you, seemed to worm into your very head and make itself a nice, cozy little home right in the back of your mind-- told you otherwise.

It dawned on you, maybe a little too late, that this was probably its intention. To get you to run, run like a rabbit being chased by a hunter-- knowing that if it turned around, if it looked back for even a second; it'd be staring down the barrel of a shotgun, one held by a man with a trigger finger when it came to things like rabbits.

You were being hunted.

Pretty fitting for your first night in hell, isn't it?

tag list !

@diffidentphantom

[please comment or DM me if you'd liked to be added to the tag list! ^^]

#yandere hazbin hotel #gn reader #yandere alastor x reader #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere x reader #platonic alastor x reader #requests open #tw mentions of death #i never realized just how fast i write until i remembered #that i wrote the prologue yesterday #thing is i don't get burnt out easily so this is probably going to become the norm #because i have 0 self control when it comes to creative projects and jump at any chance to work on it #my writing

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misshoneyimhome · 6 days ago

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I’m not sure if you’ll write this but I’m dying for it and your writing is incredible. Willy Nylander dating a Bruins fan PLEASEEE

Hey there, love 🤗

Alright, so this feels more like a blurb than a proper fic chapter, but I just wanted to say I absolutely love your idea—and I hope I’ve captured at least a bit of it 😘 I don’t know much about being a Bruins fan, so I just followed my intuition on that one 😉

I will say, though, I can definitely see the potential for a series here—not necessarily based on this particular one-shot, but in general, there’s so much to explore! It might be worth diving into - so many details I didn't include 🥰

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as it is 😘

Tropes & Warnings: William Nylander x reader, enemies to lovers, rival teams, no warnings, just fluff

Word count: 3.2K

➼｡ﾟ

Rivals in Love I William Nylander

It had been a long day at work, and you were in desperate need of coffee before tackling the rest of your to-do list. The little café tucked on a quiet street near downtown Boston was your go-to spot. The place always had the best lattes and, more importantly, it was never crowded.

You pushed open the door, the tiny bell jingling to announce your arrival, and stepped inside. The smell of fresh coffee beans and warm pastries instantly soothed your nerves. But you were so focused on debating between a caramel macchiato or a cold brew that you didn’t notice someone walking toward you until—

Crash.

Hot coffee spilled down the front of your sweatshirt, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a voice said.

You looked up, your initial annoyance faltering when you saw the man responsible. He was tall, his blond hair slightly dishevelled, with bright blue eyes staring at you apologetically.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, though the sticky heat soaking through your shirt suggested otherwise.

“Here,” he said quickly, grabbing a handful of napkins from a nearby table and handing them to you. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. That’s on me.”

“No kidding,” you replied, dabbing at the mess. Then, as you glanced back up at him, recognition dawned. “Wait a second… I know you.”

He tilted his head, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You’re William Nylander.”

His smirk grew, but before he could respond, you added, “I guess it makes sense. Leafs players are used to fumbling.”

His eyebrows shot up, and then he let out a laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that caught you off guard. “Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” you said with a shrug, trying to ignore how ridiculously good-looking he was. “I’m a Bruins fan.”

“Ah, that explains it,” he said, his smirk returning. “I’ve been told your kind can be… difficult.”

You rolled your eyes. “Difficult or honest?”

“Depends on the day,” he replied, and there was something in his tone—teasing, but also intrigued.

You expected him to brush off the conversation and move on, but instead, he stuck around, asking for your name and making casual small talk while the barista quickly made William a replacement drink.

“I’ll pay for hers too,” William insisted, handing over his card before you could protest.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, meeting your gaze with an easy smile. “Consider it an apology. And maybe a peace offering? Even if you are a Bruins fan.”

“Fine,” you said, trying to suppress the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But this doesn’t mean I like you or your team.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grabbing his own drink from the counter. But as he turned to leave, he hesitated. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?��

“Will you be at the game tomorrow night?”

“Why? Hoping to convert me?”

“No,” he said, his grin widening. “Just wondering if I’ll have to skate extra hard to impress you.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a playful wink and walked out the door, leaving you standing there, completely caught off guard.

The next evening, you found yourself in a dilemma. You hadn’t planned on attending the Bruins-Leafs game—you usually watched from the comfort of your couch, where you could yell at the TV without judgment. But after yesterday’s unexpected encounter, a part of you couldn’t shake the thought of William Nylander skating with that cocky grin, wondering if you’d shown up.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed your Coyle jersey and headed to TD Garden, promising yourself it was only because your best friend, a Leafs fan, had an extra ticket. You weren’t going because of him.

Right?

The Garden was buzzing with energy. You cheered along with the crowd as the Bruins took the ice, booing extra loud when the Leafs players followed. Your friend rolled her eyes at your antics, but you didn’t care.

As the game started, you tried not to pay attention to the opposing #88, but it was impossible. William was everywhere—stealing pucks, setting up plays, and skating with an effortless grace that made you grit your teeth.

And midway through the second period, he scored. The Leafs bench erupted as the puck sailed past Swayman and into the net. You groaned, burying your face in your hands while your friend celebrated.

“That’s your guy,” she teased, elbowing you.

“He’s not my anything,” you shot back, though your cheeks burned.

As the arena quieted for the faceoff, you glanced down at the ice and caught him looking in your direction. He wasn’t even subtle about it—he skated slowly, his gaze locking with yours as he passed your section.

And then, to your horror, he winked.

You sank lower in your seat, cursing yourself for even being here.

After the game—a crushing overtime win for Toronto, much to your dismay—you were about to make your escape when your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Enjoy the game, Bruins fan?

You froze, staring at the screen.

You: How did you get my number?!

Unknown: I have my ways. A little birdie at the café helped me out.

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice.

You: I can’t believe you’re this desperate for validation.

Unknown: And yet, you came to the game. What does that say about you?

You hated how much his teasing made you smile.

And a few days later, you were back at your favourite café, quietly working through some emails when a shadow fell across your table. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“You know, I’m starting to think you only come here hoping to bump into me,” William said, setting his coffee down across from you.

“I was here first,” you replied, glancing up at him. “Shouldn’t you be in Toronto or something?”

“We have a few days off,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Thought I’d stick around Boston for a bit. It’s growing on me. Besides, my friend lives here; Pasta, you know him.”

“Careful,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like a Bruins fan.”

He chuckled. “Not a chance. But I could be convinced to stick around… if you let me take you out sometime.”

The audacity of this man. You should’ve laughed in his face, reminded him of the years of heartbreak his team had inflicted on yours. But instead, you found yourself smiling.

“Fine,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But don’t think this changes anything. I’m still wearing my Coyle jersey.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said with a grin.

A couple of weeks had passed since your impromptu coffee shop agreement to a “date” with William. You’d been casually out together a few times since then—dinners at quiet restaurants, coffee runs, even a casual walk through Boston Common—but you still couldn’t quite figure him out.

William Nylander, the Toronto Maple Leafs’ golden boy, had women fawning over him wherever he went. Yet somehow, you, a loud, opinionated Bruins fan, were the one he seemed determined to spend his free time with.

So, when he casually dropped the idea of you coming to Toronto to watch a game, your first instinct was to laugh it off.

“Right,” you said with a chuckle, taking a sip of your coffee. “I’m sure I’d fit right in at Scotiabank Arena in my Coyle jersey.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d be the most interesting person there. Besides, you’ve already seen us play in Boston. It’s only fair you experience it on my turf.”

You waved him off, brushing it aside as another one of his playful jabs.

But then, the next day, a notification lit up your phone: a plane ticket from Boston to Toronto, sent by none other than William.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity.

This had to be a joke, right? A Leafs player going out of his way to invite you, a Bruins fan, to Toronto? It didn’t make sense.

He had options—lots of options. The kind of options who probably didn’t wear rival jerseys to dinner or roast him about Toronto’s lack of playoff success. So why was he bothering with you?

Your friend didn’t help, either. “I mean, it’s kind of romantic,” she said, scrolling through Instagram while lounging on your couch. “Maybe he just likes a challenge.”

You rolled your eyes. “Or maybe he just wants to prove he can win over a Bruins fan for the fun of it.”

“Why does it matter?” she said. “He’s into you. Who cares why? Take the trip.”

But you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt in the back of your mind. What if you went, and it turned out you were just some fleeting distraction? What if this was all a game to him? A bet between teammates?

You almost cancelled the flight.

Almost.

The day of the trip arrived, and you stood at Logan Airport, suitcase in hand, still second-guessing yourself. But as you boarded the plane and settled into your seat, you decided to stop overthinking. Maybe this was a bad idea—but maybe it wasn’t.

And a few hours later, you landed in Toronto, where William himself was waiting at the arrivals gate, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You actually came,” he said, his grin as wide as the Toronto skyline.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but smile back.

The night of the game, you were a bundle of nerves as you slipped on your Coyle jersey. True to your word, you weren’t about to switch allegiances, even for William.

When you arrived at Scotiabank Arena, the Leafs fans around you gave you a mix of side-eyes and incredulous stares, but William had made sure you were seated in a private box to avoid any real drama.

And from the moment the puck dropped, your attention flicked between the ice and William. He was in his element, skating with that effortless confidence, his hair slicked back under his helmet.

Every time he touched the puck, your heart raced, though you’d never admit it. And when he scored late in the second period, his celebration was as dramatic as ever—this time, pointing directly at you in the box.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was so infuriating.

After the game, he found you waiting near the locker room, his grin as cocky as ever.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, still catching his breath.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, crossing your arms.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he teased, his voice softer now.

You wanted to argue, to push back, but something about the way he looked at you made your walls crumble. Maybe he wasn’t just playing a game. Maybe this was real.

“Fine,” you said, your voice quieter. “Maybe I did enjoy it. Just a little.”

William’s smile widened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. “Good. Because I’m not giving up on you that easily.”

Over the next few weeks, your relationship with William started to feel… real. The texts, the calls, the late-night FaceTimes where he’d tease you about the Bruins while you fired back equally sharp chirps about the Leafs’ playoff history. It was comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected—like you’d known each other forever instead of just a few months.

He’d flown back to Boston twice since your trip to Toronto, once surprising you with tickets to a game that you’d begrudgingly attended (in your Bruins jersey, of course). And despite the growing attention from both your friends and random Leafs fans online—thanks to William’s not-so-subtle Instagram stories—it felt easy.

And that ease was what brought him to your apartment one chilly Thursday night, fresh off a practice in Toronto and desperate to escape the chaos of hockey for a few days. He showed up at your door with a crooked smile and a bag of takeout, unapologetically dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he wasn’t one of the most recognizable players in the NHL.

“I told you not to come here empty-handed,” you said as he stepped inside.

“I brought food,” he said, holding up the bag. “And me. That counts, right?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, leading him to the couch. The night unfolded in your usual way—dinner, teasing banter, and a ridiculous movie you half-watched while he tried to convince you to root for the Leafs just once.

“Never,” you said, nudging him with your elbow as the credits rolled.

“Not even if I score a hat trick in the playoffs?”

“Please. Like Toronto’s making it past the first round.”

He groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the couch. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

“And you love it,” you shot back, earning a smirk that made your stomach flip.

As the room fell quiet, you realized how close he was. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his body turned slightly toward you, his blue eyes soft as they studied your face.

“What?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Nothing,” he said, but the way his gaze lingered told you otherwise.

You felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny, and before you could overthink it, he leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, like he was giving you every chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as the kiss deepened. The world outside faded, the only sound the faint hum of the TV and the quiet hitch of your breath as his fingers traced along your jawline.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small, almost shy smile playing at his lips.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

“You’re one to talk,” you whispered back, your heart pounding against your ribs.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet intimacy stretching between you like a fragile thread. It was a different kind of silence—one that felt warm, electric, and charged with a million unspoken words.

“You know,” he said eventually, his voice low, “I don’t just come here for the food.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “I figured as much.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you again, slower this time, like he wanted to savour every second. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, you believed him.

Until you didn’t.

The first crack came during a Friday night dinner at a cosy Italian spot in the North End.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, but halfway through your meal, the whispers started.

“That’s William Nylander…”

“…isn’t she a Bruins fan? What’s she doing with him?”

“…he’s always with someone new…”

You tried to brush it off, focusing on your pasta while William remained unfazed, casually twirling his fork like he didn’t hear a thing. But the longer it went on, the harder it was to ignore.

By the time dessert arrived, the insecurities you’d managed to suppress since Toronto had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Do you ever… get tired of this?” you blurted, pushing your tiramisu around with your spoon.

William looked up, his brows furrowing. “Tired of what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “The attention. The whispers. Everyone thinking I’m just another one of your… whatever.”

His expression softened, but you didn’t stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had fun—really. But maybe this was just a thing, you know? A fun distraction for you while you’re on the road. I mean, you’re William Nylander. You could date anyone. Why me?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence was deafening. You stared at your plate, feeling the familiar sting of regret creeping in. Maybe you’d gone too far. Maybe he’d been looking for an out, and you’d just handed it to him.

But then, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Why not you?” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re smart, funny, and the only person who makes me actually want to argue about hockey. You’re not afraid to chirp me when I deserve it—and even when I don’t. And yeah, the attention sucks sometimes, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is you.”

You blinked, your throat tightening as his words sank in.

“And for the record,” he added, a small smirk creeping onto his face, “you’re not a ‘fun distraction.’ If you were, I wouldn’t have flown to Boston twice in a month just to see you.”

Your lips twitched, a reluctant smile breaking through. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh?”

“Is it working?” he asked, his smirk turning into a full grin.

“Maybe,” you admitted, rolling your eyes but squeezing his hand back.

But the drama didn’t end there.

A few days later, an article popped up online: William Nylander Seen Cosying Up to Mysterious Bruins Fan in Boston.

The headline was bad enough, but the comments? Worse.

“She’s just another puck bunny.”

“Why would he date a Bruins fan? Total PR move.”

“She’s not even that pretty…”

You tried not to let it bother you, but when William called that night, you were unusually quiet.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Nothing,” you lied, staring at your laptop screen where the article was still open.

“Come on,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

You sighed, finally breaking. “I don’t know if I can do this, Will. The articles, the comments… people think I’m just using you, or that I’m some… whatever they want to call me.”

“They don’t know you,” he said firmly. “And they don’t know us.”

“But they think they do,” you argued. “And it’s exhausting.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you braced yourself for the worst.

But then he spoke again, “What if I made it official?”

You froze. “What?”

“What if I posted about us?” he said, his tone calm but confident. “Let people see that you’re not just some random girl. That we’re serious.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but doubt still lingered. “Won’t that just make it worse?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I don’t care. I want to be with you. And if that means dealing with some noise, so be it.”

You were silent, his words hanging heavy in the air.

“Look,” he continued, his voice softening. “You can take all the time you need to think about it. But just know that I’m not going anywhere.”

A week later, you were scrolling through Instagram when you saw it.

A picture of the two of you at dinner, taken from a slightly awkward angle but undeniably sweet. The caption?

“Even a Bruins fan can’t resist a little blue and white 💙🤍.”

The comments were a mix of support, chirps, and Leafs-Bruins banter, but for the first time, you didn’t care.

Because when you texted him to call him out for posting it without warning, his only response was:

“Told you I’m not going anywhere.”

#my asks #bruins!fan x William #wn88 imagine #William Nylander imagine #Toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines

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butchdiaz · 1 month ago

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wip wednesday

nobody has tagged me but i'm simply too excited about fleabag au and want to share another snippet lol

“I have something for you.” Eddie pulls up his vetements to reach into the back pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t even show any skin, but something about the exposure feels strangely intimate – Buck suddenly understands the obscenity of a woman hiking up her dress to show a stocking-covered ankle in the 1800s. “Here,” Eddie is holding out…a bible. Buck just blinks at him. “I’ve highlighted some passages, my favourites. They might be – nice. Helpful to read.” “Um,” Buck squints at him, “You know I don’t –” he gestures towards the bible, somehow scared to touch it, like his grubby fingers will dirty it’s holiness in Eddie's eyes. “I know,” Eddie rolls his eyes fondly, and Buck is once again struck by his resemblance to Christopher. It seems so obvious now, he doesn't know how he didn't put it together before. “I’m not trying to convert you. I swear,” Eddie shrugs, “They're just words.” “Fine,” Buck takes the bible, and his fingers brush against Eddie's. He really hopes he’s not imagining the way Eddie lingers – just a second – in the touch. “But if I read anything unchill about being gay, I’m out.” Eddie laughs, a full belly, head thrown back thing. He snatches the bible back from Buck’s hands and starts flipping through the pages. “I’m serious,” Buck protests, half caught in Eddie's contagious laughter, “I don't need to be reading that about myself.” He slips it in. Cool. Casually. He thinks Eddie's fingers might still for a millisecond before continuing paging through the bible but he can't be sure. He holds his breath. “Aha,” Eddie says to himself, and then he rips out a page from the bible. Flips to another one and rips that one out too. Buck’s mouth drops open. Eddie just hands the torn up bible back to him with a smile, “Me neither.” And does that mean – wait. Buck’s brain performs an Eddie-revelation-inspired factory reset for the third time today, updating the list in his head. Hot Priest. Hot Dad. Dead Wife. Gay?

@shitouttabuck @iinryer @eddiebabygirldiaz @chronicowboy @try-set-me-on-fire

@doeeyeseddie @2x01diaz @hotshotsxyz @saryasy tagging u if u have anything u wanna share<3

#fleabag au #YIPPEE #tag games #abby is making #writing

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emperordinozenmon · 26 days ago

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The Farmer’s Daughter

I came to the countryside to escape all the distractions and finally write my third novel, but instead, I found love—the biggest distraction of all. I arrived in the small town with nothing but my Foil SP Omnimon card Switch, earphones, phone, laptop, relevant chargers, and enough clothes to last me until I finished. The hostel I booked was a recently converted farm run by a family still figuring things out. That was fine; as long as I didn’t have to deal with a bunch of other people, I’d be good.

Or so I thought.

The moment I stepped out of the cab, I was greeted by a young woman in pigtails and overalls, with an adorable smile that practically lit up the countryside. My heart immediately whispered, “Marry this girl now!” My brain, being slightly more practical, suggested, “Maybe at least say hello first.”

I adjusted my bag, approached her, and said, “Hi, I have a reservation. It should be under Austin.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening in a way that made my pulse race. “Austin… let’s see.” She opened a slightly battered logbook, her fingers skimming down the page. “Ah, there you are!” Her English was smooth, but her charming accent made it sound just a bit melodic. She tore a key off a hook and handed it to me.

“Thank you, Mrs…?” I trailed off, leaning in slightly, hoping to catch her name.

“Oh, I’m not married!” she said quickly, a faint pink coloring her cheeks.

“My name is Son Seung Wan but call me Wendy. I’m the main hostess here—and the daughter of the owner.”

“Well, color me impressed. I get the VIP treatment?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “Well, you’re one of our very first customers, so it only seems fair to make you feel special.” “You’re doing a pretty good job so far,” I said, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

Her eyes met mine for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us. Then she blinked and straightened, brushing a loose strand of hair back. “Oh, wait before you go—” She grabbed a scrap of paper, jotted something down, and handed it to me.

Curious, I glanced at the note. It was her number, along with a quick doodle of a smiley face.

“In case you need anything,” she said, her tone casual, but her lips curved in a way that hinted at mischief.

I met her gaze again, this time letting a wolfish smile creep onto my face. “Anything at all, huh?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but there was no mistaking the slight blush on her cheeks. “Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Not a chance,” I said, slipping the note carefully into my pocket. As I walked to my room, I realized I might not get much writing done here after all.

On my first morning at the farm, I woke up before dawn. The timezone difference still had me in its grip, but I didn’t mind. By breakfast, I had already managed to crank out four chapters—a personal best. What finally stopped me wasn’t writer’s block but the loud, insistent grumbling of my stomach.

Unable to ignore it any longer, I ventured outside in search of food. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of hay and earth. As I rounded the barn, I spotted Wendy. She was busy moving bales of hay, her pigtails bouncing slightly with each effort. Dressed in her overalls and boots, she waved when she saw me, flashing that same adorable smile that had disarmed me yesterday.

My heart gave an uncharacteristic flutter.

I walked over without thinking, the words tumbling out of my mouth before my brain could catch up. “Hey, you need some help, pretty lady?”

Wendy’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but she quickly covered it with a smirk. “Pretty lady, huh? That’s one way to get on my good side.”

I grinned. “It’s a start, isn’t it?”

She laughed lightly, then cocked her head. “I don’t know if a big city boy like you can handle it, though. This is real work, not whatever you call exercise up there wherever you're from.”

I shrugged, leaning casually against the barn door. “Can’t hurt to try.” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

What I’d signed up for turned out to be far more than I expected. First, I helped her lug bales of hay across the barnyard, each one heavier than it looked. Wendy kept glancing at me, clearly waiting for me to give up, but I stubbornly matched her pace.

Next, we fed the animals—cows, chickens, and goats. At one point, a particularly ambitious goat tried to climb into the feed bucket I was holding, nearly knocking me over. Wendy doubled over laughing. “Looks like he’s winning, city boy!”

I managed to shoo the goat away, brushing off my jeans. “That goat’s got nothing on me.”

She smirked, handing me another bucket. “We’ll see.” We moved on to the horses, running a few of them on the track. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing, but Wendy coached me through it, her voice teasing but encouraging. She seemed genuinely impressed that I was keeping up.

Two and a half hours later, we finally finished. I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to catch my breath. Wendy leaned against the fence, her face flushed from exertion but glowing with satisfaction.

“I’m shocked you made it this far, big boy,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Guess that size is good for something.”

“Hey, I used to be a college rugby star for New Mexico,” I countered, puffing out my chest a little.

She chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “A rugby star, huh? Explains the broad shoulders. Still, I’m not sure how you went from that to typing away in front of a laptop all day.”

I smirked, leaning against the fence beside her. “Guess I like to keep people guessing. But what about you? All this hard work—you could probably give a rugby team a run for their money.” Wendy tilted her head, pretending to think. “Maybe. But then who would be here to babysit city boys like you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Fair enough. So, what’s next? More hay? Another goat to wrestle?” Her stomach growled audibly, and she shot me a sheepish grin. “Actually,

I was thinking food. But since you seem so eager, maybe I should keep you working.”

“Oh, no, food sounds perfect,” I said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from eating, after all.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging lightly at my sleeve. “Alright, come on, then. Let’s get something to eat before your stomach scares the animals.” “Hey, that was only once!” I protested, falling into step beside her.

As we walked back toward the house, I realized I wasn’t just enjoying the work or the fresh air—I was enjoying her company. Every glance, every smile, every teasing comment felt electric, like the start of something I couldn’t quite define.

Judging by the way her eyes lingered on mine, she might just have felt it too.

We made our way back to the farmhouse, Wendy walking a step ahead of me. She moved with an effortless confidence, her pigtails swaying as she chatted about farm chores and the antics of the animals. I tried to focus on her words—really, I did—but my eyes kept betraying me.

Her overalls fit snugly, hinting at the full, hourglass figure beneath them. It wasn’t just her curves, though; there was something about her—the way she balanced strength with an undeniable softness as if the hard work hadn’t taken away her natural femininity.

“You’re awfully quiet back there,” she said suddenly, turning to glance over her shoulder. Her smile was playful, but her eyes were sharp. “Something on your mind?”

I froze, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, uh, just thinking about breakfast.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, raising an eyebrow but not pressing further. Inside, the kitchen was cozy and smelled like freshly baked bread and eggs. Wendy moved to the counter, grabbing a loaf from a breadbox and setting out a jar of jam. She gestured for me to sit while she began to plate some scrambled eggs.

As she worked, my eyes flickered again to the curve of her waist and the way her overalls clung to her hips. I quickly looked away, but it was too late.

“Caught you,” she said, her voice sing-song as she turned, a plate in hand and a smirk on her lips.

“Caught me doing what?” I asked, feigning innocence as I reached for the plate.

“Oh, come on,” she said, setting it down in front of me. She leaned on the counter, her smirk fading slightly as she added, “You’ve been sneaking glances since we left the barn. I’m flattered, really… but also kinda surprised.”

“Surprised?” I asked, genuinely confused. She sat down across from me, resting her chin in her hand. “Yeah. Guys usually go for someone… smaller, you know? All my friends back in school were skinny, and it always felt like they got all the attention. Me? Not so much.”

Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. She picked at the edge of her napkin, avoiding my gaze. “I guess it’s just weird hearing compliments like that. I mean, I like food too much to diet, and I’m obviously not built to be dainty.” She gestured at herself with a half-smile. “Most of the time, I’m fine with it. But sometimes…”

She trailed off, shrugging as if to brush the thought away, but I could tell it lingered.

I opened my mouth to respond and immediately panicked, trying to think of something that wasn’t cheesy or dumb. Don’t tell her she’s pretty. Don’t tell her she’s perfect. That’s what every guy says, and it’ll sound hollow. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “I think… it’s less about what most guys like and more about what’s real. And you, Wendy, are… real. Not trying to be something you’re not. That’s what’s striking about you. You’re just… you.”

Her eyes softened, and she blinked at me as if trying to decide if I was serious. “Real, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “And for the record, you pull off ‘real’ better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

She laughed, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. “You’re dangerously close to cheesy territory there, city boy.”

I grinned, holding up my hands. “What can I say? You make it hard to avoid.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile she gave me was warm and genuine.

“Alright, alright. Eat your breakfast before you try to sweep me off my feet with more compliments.”

I picked up my fork, but before I took a bite, I looked at her and said, “For the record, I wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. Just… being honest.”

Her cheeks turned pink again, and she quickly looked away, but I noticed the small smile lingering on her lips.

As we ate, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at her—and this time, she didn’t seem to mind.

After breakfast, Wendy followed me to my room. I didn’t mind her company—something about her presence felt energizing, even as I worked. I settled at the small desk by the window, my laptop glowing softly in the morning light.

She perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, leaning slightly forward as if trying to peek at my screen. I was laser-focused on pounding out another few chapters, but the occasional snicker from her side of the room was hard to ignore.

“What’s so funny?” I asked after the third one, still typing.

“Oh, nothing. You just look so serious, like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe,” she teased, her tone light and playful.

"I am solving the mysteries of the universe…at least for these characters,” I said, glancing at her with a mock frown before turning back to my laptop.

“Sure you are,” she said, barely containing her giggles. For a while, I worked in relative silence, her occasional fidgeting and soft hums the only sounds besides my typing. Then, after what must have been half an hour, she broke the quiet.

“So… what’s this book about? I can see bits and pieces from here, but I can’t get the full picture.”

I paused, leaning back in my chair and stretching. “It’s about a Paladin of Justice who falls in love with a beautiful succubus. It’s meant to be a romantic comedy, mostly.”

Wendy tilted her head, her expression caught between curiosity and disbelief. “A succubus and a paladin? Is the paladin evil?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nope. They’re both good. Or at least, trying to be. They’re in legitimate love with each other, despite all the odds stacked against them.” Her eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flickering across her face. “Legitimate love? Like… no trickery, no spells?”

“None,” I said firmly.

She sat back, letting the idea sink in before asking, “So how do they meet? How do they fall for each other?”

I smiled lightly. “Mostly by happenstance. Boy meets girl, falls head over heels, and girl… well, she just happens to be a succubus. They figure out life and love together, and comedy ensues.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “That’s definitely unconventional. Why write something like that?”

I shrugged, spinning my chair slightly to face her. “It’s a creative way for me to address unconventional love. You know, exploring themes like acceptance and understanding, but in a fun, silly way that doesn’t carry the baggage of something like an interracial couple or other real-world dynamics.”

Wendy’s gaze narrowed slightly, her expression shifting to one of intrigue. “So… you use fantasy to confront reality?”

I nodded, a little surprised by her insight. “Exactly. It gives me room to be playful and honest at the same time.” She grinned triumphantly, leaning forward. “See? I can be smart too.”

I frowned, not understanding her tone. “I never said you weren’t smart. Never even thought it.”

Her confident grin faltered, and her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. It’s just… most city boys think I’m a country bumpkin. You know, farm girl, overalls, chickens clucking in the background… even though I graduated top of my class.”

I shook my head, the idea of anyone underestimating her irritating me more than I cared to admit. “Well, I’m not most city boys.”

Her blush deepened, but a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m learning that,” she said softly, her voice almost shy.

For a moment, the air between us felt heavier and warmer. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt, and I found myself watching the movement, wondering if I’d said the right thing.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. “For the record, I think you’re brilliant. And if anyone’s ever made you feel like you’re less than that, they were idiots.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, wide and startled, and for a heartbeat, she didn’t say anything. Then her lips curled into a slow, genuine smile. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous how?” I asked, grinning.

“Dangerous because you say things like that and make me think you actually mean them,” she teased, but there was no hiding the warmth in her voice.

I turn to Wendy look her in her eyes and "I mean them,” I say simply, leaning back in my chair.

She laughed, the sound light and musical, and the tension melted away. “Alright, city boy. Keep working on your book. I’ll be here, judging your plot decisions silently.”

“Only silently?” I shot back.

“For now,” she said with a wink.

I finished another 3 chapters then we started the afternoon chores at the farm. I was a bit slower this time around but still managed to keep up with Wendy as she blitzed through them. She would often look back and smile at me

She'd occasionally ask, “Still alive city boy?” to which I respond “Yeah,” I felt bad though because my gaze would continually leer over her body and I had only just met her but I was already deeply infatuated with her Lunch at the farmhouse was as hearty and unpretentious as the setting itself: a steaming bowl of beef stew, fresh bread, and a crisp salad made from vegetables Wendy had likely picked herself. We sat across from each other at a small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen, sunlight filtering through the window and catching in her dark hair. The conversation flowed easily—Wendy had a knack for keeping things light and entertaining. She told me about the antics of the chickens that morning, gesturing animatedly, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way her eyes lit up when she spoke.

“Wait, you’ve never been chased by a rooster before?” she asked her tone equal parts mock disbelief and teasing.

“Not unless you count the time my high school mascot went rogue during homecoming,” I replied.

Wendy laughed, the sound like music before she stood abruptly. “Hold on. I forgot the chili paste. You’ve gotta try it—it’ll change your life.”

Before I could reply, she turned and walked toward the pantry. And just like that, I fell into a trance.

Her overalls clung to her in all the right places, accentuating the curve of her hips and the effortless sway of her walk. The straps framed her shoulders and the way her pigtails bobbed with every step felt almost hypnotic.

But it wasn’t just her figure—it was everything about her. The way she carried herself, confident and relaxed, without a shred of pretense. The way her voice softened when she talked about the farm, was full of pride and affection. The way she smiled like she knew exactly how to make the world a little brighter.

I was completely, hopelessly mesmerized.

“Enjoying the view?”

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I blinked, realizing she was standing right in front of me, the jar of chili paste in her hand and a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I, uh…” I stammered, my ears burning.

Wendy tilted her head, her grin widening. “Don’t stop on my account. You looked like you were thinking something very important.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to recover. “Just… admiring the architectural integrity of your pantry. Very sturdy shelves.” She laughed, setting the jar down on the table. “Sure you were.” Sliding back into her seat, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So? What’s your verdict?”

“On… what?” I asked cautiously.

“On the shelves,” she teased, her smile turning sly.

Caught, I let out a sheepish laugh and met her gaze. “Fine. You got me. I was thinking about you.”

Her brow arched, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly were you thinking?”

I hesitated the words balancing on the edge of my tongue. I wanted to tell her everything: how I thought she was stunning, how her laugh felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, how her presence made me forget everything else. But that felt way too heavy for lunch.

Instead, I smirked and said, “I was thinking chili paste might not be the only thing here that could change my life.” Wendy blinked, surprised, before laughing softly. “Wow. A city boy’s got some lines after all.”

“Not just any lines,” I said, leaning slightly closer. “Good ones.” She chuckled again, shaking her head but not looking away. For a moment, the playful banter fell away, replaced by something quieter and deeper. Her smile softened, and she reached for the jar, opening it with a casual grace that made my heart beat faster.

“Alright, Romeo,” she said, breaking the spell as she handed me the jar.

“Let’s see if you can handle this chili paste without crying.”

“Oh, you underestimate me,” I replied, grinning as I took it. As we ate, the tension lingered in the air, warm and electric, and I knew one thing for certain: I was falling for her.

After spending a few quiet hours resting with Wendy, she left to talk with her dad, Mr. Son. I turned my focus back to my writing, managing to chip away at another chapter, but I couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of her warmth beside me or the playful lilt of her voice.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts. When I opened it, Mr. Son stood there, his broad shoulders framed in the doorway. His expression was as weathered as the land he worked on, and his eyes carried a weight that made me stand a little straighter.

“Mind if I come in?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“Of course, sir,” I replied, stepping aside as he entered.

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the open laptop and scattered notes on the desk before settling on me. Crossing his arms, he fixed me with a steely look. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question hit me like a hammer. I expected it, sure, but hearing it aloud—especially in that gravelly tone—made my throat tighten. I let out a slow sigh and met his gaze. “I have a crush on your daughter, sir,” I admitted plainly.

Mr. Son’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “That’s not good enough. I don’t trust city folk, especially not with my daughter. You’ll need to do better than ‘I have a crush.’”

I inhaled deeply, choosing my words carefully. “Your daughter is… incredible, sir. She’s smart, funny, and kind. She’s confident even when she feels insecure, and she has this strength that’s just—” I paused, searching for the right words. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. I’d marry her in a heartbeat if I could, have a family with her, and spend my life making her as happy as she makes me. She’s my dream girl, sir.”

Mr. Son tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying me like a hawk sizing up its prey. “And what’s so special about her that makes her your ‘dream girl?’” he pressed.

I squared my shoulders, determined to answer honestly. “She’s beautiful, of course—anyone can see that. But it’s more than that. Wendy’s wit keeps me on my toes. Her caring nature makes me want to be better. And even with all the hard work she puts in here, she’s still soft—emotionally and physically—in a way that makes me feel grounded. She’s the kind of person who makes you want to fight for something worth keeping.” For a long moment, Mr. Son didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, his presence towering despite my height advantage.

“You’re not like most city boys,” he said finally, his tone more curious than accusatory.

I nodded. “I try not to be.”

A flicker of something like amusement crossed his face, though it was gone as quickly as it came. “I’m not fully sold on you yet,” he admitted.

“But I’ll give you this—you don’t seem like you’d hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said firmly. “I couldn’t.”

He chuckled then, a low, gravelly sound that felt like the breaking of ice.

“Well, you’d better not. Because if you do, I’ll make sure everyone in town hears about it.”

“I believe you,” I replied with a small smile.

Satisfied, Mr. Son turned to leave but paused in the doorway. His tone softened slightly. “Wendy’s not like most girls. She’s been hurt before, and she’s always felt different from her friends because of how she looks. She needs someone who’ll see her for who she is and stick by her. Can you do that?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I will, sir. I’ll take care of her. I swear it.”

He studied me for another beat, then nodded. “Good. But don’t forget—you screw this up, and it’s not just Wendy you’ll have to answer to.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Understood.”

As he stepped out, I couldn’t help but add, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, though. I have way more to lose if I ever hurt Wendy. People like me… the world loves to see us fail. But I won’t give it that satisfaction—not with her.”

Mr. Son turned back, his expression shifting to one of faint surprise. “That’s an interesting way of looking at things,” he murmured. After a pause, his lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Alright then. Have fun with Wendy.”

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving me standing in the quiet room, my heart pounding in my chest. I’d passed the test—for now. But more than that, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Wendy was worth every effort, and I wasn’t about to let her—or her father—down. As my heart stopped racing I was surprised to get a text from Wendy asking me if I wanted to go on a double date. The idea of a double date had clearly put Wendy in a good mood. When she mentioned it to me earlier, her smile was equal parts nervous and excited. “Joy wants me to go with her, but I’m not going unless you’re coming too,” she’d said, almost shyly.

How could I say no to that? She asked me in a pretty sun dress she had decided to wear with nice leather boots.

So now we were seated at a polished, cozy restaurant with Joy and her date, a clean-cut guy named Jae who seemed charming enough—at first. Wendy and I sat across from them, sharing appetizers and easy banter.

Joy was effortlessly sociable, and she clearly enjoyed teasing Wendy, poking fun at her for being “so domestic” with her farm duties. But the teasing was lighthearted, and Wendy took it in stride, rolling her eyes and laughing along.

I leaned over to her. “She seems like trouble.” Wendy grinned, whispering back, “You have no idea.” The date was going well—right up until Jae tilted his head, squinting at Wendy like he was trying to place her.

“Wait a second,” he said, his tone sharpening with recognition. “You’re Han Wendy, aren’t you? We went to high school together.” Wendy tensed slightly but managed a polite smile. “Oh, yeah. Jae, right?” “Yeah, that’s me.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin turning smug. “Wow, I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re, uh… still living out on the farm, huh?” Wendy’s smile faltered. “Yeah, I am.” Jae laughed, a little too loudly. “Guess some things never change. I mean, who else could it be? I remember everyone used to call you Cow—what was the other one? Heifer, right?” The table went silent.

Wendy’s cheeks flushed, and I could see her trying to keep her composure, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of hurt. Before she could say anything, something snapped inside me. My chest tightened, my jaw clenched, and the words came out before I even realized what I was saying—my usual measured tone replaced by a thick, unmistakable Texas drawl. “Now hold on there, partner,” I said, my voice low and deliberate. “You best watch what you’re sayin’.” Jae blinked, startled. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, leaning forward slightly, my eyes locking onto his. “Ain’t no one gonna sit here and call my woman names like that. You got somethin’ to say to her, you say it with respect, or you don’t say it at all.” The accent was as thick as molasses, and for a moment, even I was surprised by the force of it. But it worked. Jae’s smug expression faltered, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Jeez, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just a joke.”

“Well, it ain’t funny,” I shot back. “Wendy’s a better woman than you deserve to be sittin’ across from, and you’d do well to remember that.”

Jae muttered something under his breath, clearly not eager to push the issue further. Joy, wide-eyed, gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. The rest of the meal passed with forced small talk, and when it was over, Wendy and I walked back to the car together in silence.

As soon as we were alone, she stopped, turning to face me. Her expression was unreadable at first, her dark eyes studying me intently. Finally, she broke into a smile, one that was equal parts amused and amazed. “My woman, huh?”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks heat. “It just… came out. I didn’t mean to make a scene or anything.”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice soft. “I mean… thank you. For standing up for me.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say, but then she took a step closer.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she said, her tone playful but sincere. “Here I thought you were just some smart, sophisticated city boy. But turns out, there’s a little bit of a farm boy in you too.”

I chuckled nervously. “Grew up around a lot of cornfields. Guess some habits stick.”

Her smile deepened, and for a moment, she just looked at me, her gaze warm and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“I like it,” she said finally. “I like you.”

My breath caught, and before I could respond, she slipped her hand into mine, squeezing it gently.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light again. “Let’s get out of here before Joy tries to rope us into another one of her ‘fun ideas.’”

As we walked to the car, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a new kind of certainty settle in my chest. Wendy wasn’t just someone I was falling for—she was someone I wanted to protect, cherish, and share every part of myself with, even the parts I thought I’d left behind.

And judging by the way her fingers laced with mine, I had a feeling she felt the same.

Here’s the revised and expanded version of the scene, where the narrator’s “Cornfed” side emerges and, with it, his comfort, affection for Wendy, and the eloquence of his pre-college self: The next morning, Wendy was knocking on my door bright and early.

“Up and at ’em, city boy!” she called. “We’ve got work to do!” Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door. Wendy stood there, a hand on her hip and a teasing grin on her face, dressed in overalls and a straw hat.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said. “The chickens aren’t gonna feed themselves.”

I rubbed my eyes, giving her an exaggerated groan. “You’re way too cheerful for this early in the morning.”

She smirked. “Can’t help it. Gotta see if I can bring out more of that Cornfed Boy I saw last night. I know he’s in there somewhere.”

I rolled my eyes but grabbed my boots. “Alright, boss. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

At the chicken coop, Wendy handed me a basket and gestured toward the hens. “Alright, let’s see if you remember how to do this.”

I stepped inside, and the chickens clucked and fluttered nervously. A younger me might have hesitated, but something about being back on the farm—with Wendy watching expectantly—felt natural.

“Hush now, darlin’,” I murmured to a particularly noisy hen. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’.”

Wendy straightened up, her grin widening. “Was that a little twang I just heard?”

I chuckled, crouching to collect the eggs. “You’re hearing things, Wendy. These chickens’ve got you spooked.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, leaning on the fence and crossing her arms. “City boy’s trying real hard to hide it, but it’s coming out.”

As I worked, I found myself relaxing more and more. The motions were familiar, and the weight of the basket in my hand felt like an old friend. By the time I handed the basket to Wendy, I wasn’t even thinking about hiding the accent that had crept into my voice.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she said. “Starting to think I’m not the only one who grew up around chickens.”

“Spent a few summers doin’ chores like this,” I admitted. “Dad wanted to keep me outta trouble, so he sent me to help out some neighbors. Learned a thing or two.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re really Cornfed, huh?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” I replied with a sly grin. When it came time to muck out the stalls, Wendy handed me a pitchfork and leaned against the barn door.

“Alright, Mr. Cornfed,” she said, smirking. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” I didn’t even hesitate, rolling up my sleeves and setting to work. The smell wasn’t pleasant, but the rhythm of shoveling and tossing was oddly satisfying. As I worked, I found myself explaining the best way to handle stubborn spots and how to keep the bedding clean without wasting hay.

“You’re awfully good at this for a city boy,” Wendy teased.

I shrugged, leaning on the pitchfork for a moment. “It’s just about workin’ smarter, not harder. You gotta respect the process. Animals ain’t so different from people—give ’em a clean space, a little kindness, and they’ll take care of the rest.”

Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head. “You sound like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”

I smiled, my voice taking on a more thoughtful tone. “Maybe I forgot for a while, but it’s comin’ back to me. Feels… good, y’know? Like I’m findin’ a piece of myself I didn’t know I’d lost.”

She stared at me for a moment, her smile turning from teasing to something gentler. “I like this side of you,” she said softly. At lunchtime, we sat together on the porch, the sun warming our faces as we ate. Wendy had made sandwiches and sweet tea, and the simplicity of it all felt just right.

“You know,” I said, leaning back against the railing, “this is the kinda meal that sticks with you. Not just in your stomach but in your heart.” Wendy blinked at me, then laughed. “Wow. That was downright poetic.”

“Farm-work does that to a man,” I said, winking at her. She nudged me with her foot. “Alright, Shakespeare. What else you got?” I turned toward her, resting my arm on the railing. “I’ve got this,” I said, my voice softening. “You, sittin’ here in the sun, lookin’ like you belong to this place in a way most people never will. It’s beautiful, Wendy. You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, pretending to adjust her hat.

“You keep talking like that, and I might start believing you.”

“Good,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Because I mean every word.” By the time we got to the creek in the afternoon, I was more comfortable in my skin than I had been in years. Wendy led me to the water’s edge, kicking off her shoes and splashing into the shallows.

“You coming in, or are you too fancy for creek water now?” she teased.

I grinned, rolling up my pant legs and stepping in after her. “You forget,

I’m just a Cornfed boy at heart.”

She laughed, splashing me lightly. “Prove it!”

I splashed her back, and we spent the next few minutes chasing each other through the water, laughing and hollering like kids. At some point, I caught her by the hand and pulled her close, the cool water swirling around our legs as we caught our breath.

“Y’know,” I said, my voice dipping into a deeper drawl, “you’ve got a way of bringin’ out the best in me.”

Wendy tilted her head, her eyes shining. “Maybe because this is the best of you,” she said softly.

I smiled, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “Reckon you’re right.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned against my side as we waded to the bank to dry off. Sitting there together, the sun dipping low in the sky, I felt like I was finally whole again—and it was all because of her.

The next morning found me in the barn, fixin’ a loose latch on one of the horse stalls Wendy had mentioned yesterday. Sunlight spilled through the slats in the wood, catchin’ on the dust motes hangin’ lazy in the air. I was whistlin’ low and easy as I worked, pausin’ now and again to make sure the latch lined up just right.

“Didn’t expect to find you out here this early,” came a familiar voice from the barn door.

I straightened up and turned to see Mr. Son leanin’ against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze as steady and sharp as ever.

“Mornin’, sir,” I said, brushin’ my hands off on my jeans. “Latch was givin’ your horse some trouble, so I figured I’d see to it. Ain’t no sense lettin’ a small thing turn into a big problem.”

His eyebrows lifted, though he didn’t comment right away. Instead, he stepped inside, his boots scuffin’ softly against the wood. “You’ve been keepin’ yourself busy,” he remarked.

I nodded, settin’ the screwdriver aside. “Just tryin’ to pull my weight. Wendy’s been workin’ circles ’round me, so I figured I’d better start earnin’ my keep.”

He chuckled low, though his tone stayed cautious. “That so?” “Yessir,” I said, leanin’ a little against the stall door. “Place like this needs constant care, and I reckon there’s no better way to show I’m serious than to put in the work.”

Mr. Son studied me for a long moment, his eyes squintin’ like he was seein’ me for the first time. “You’re talkin’ different than you did a couple days ago,” he said finally.

I shrugged, a faint grin tuggin’ at my lips. “Guess bein’ here brings it out of me. I spent my summers on farms like this when I was younger. Dad thought it was important I learn how to work with my hands, so he sent me to help out local folks who needed it. This life kinda gets under your skin—it stays with you.”

His expression shifted slightly, though his arms stayed crossed. “Didn’t expect a city boy to know his way around a barn.”

“Well,” I said, straightenin’ up and leanin’ on the stall door, “city boy’s just the surface. Dad was a professor, and he believed in groundin’ his kids with hard work. Every summer, I’d wake up before dawn, shovel stalls, fix fences, harvest crops—whatever needed doin’. Taught me a lot about patience and pride in a job well done.”

His gaze softened, though he didn’t uncross his arms just yet. “That’s rare these days. Most young folks wouldn’t know the first thing about how to fix a fence, let alone stick with it.”

“Yessir,” I said with a small nod. “There’s somethin’ about seein’ the results of your work—somethin’ real, y’know? Even when I was back in the city, stuck at a desk or in a lecture hall, part of me always missed this. The smell of the earth, the ache in your muscles after a long day, the quiet satisfaction of buildin’ somethin’ with your own two hands.”

Mr. Son looked me over again, his eyes narrowing like he was weighin’ my words. “You’ve changed,” he said slowly.

“Maybe,” I replied, smilin’ a little. “Or maybe I’m just settlin’ back into the part of me I tried to leave behind.”

His chuckle was quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “When you first showed up, I figured you were one of those smooth-talking city types. Someone who’d sweet-talk my daughter and leave her with nothin’ but heartbreak.”

“I get why you’d think that,” I said, my voice steady. “But sir, Wendy’s more than just a pretty face to me. She’s…” I paused, searchin’ for the right words. “She’s the kind of woman who makes you wanna be better, just by bein’ around her. And I don’t take that lightly.”

Mr. Son’s shoulders relaxed a little, though his eyes stayed sharp. “You ain’t just talkin’, are you?”

“No, sir,” I said firmly. “I’ve got every intention of stickin’ around, so long as she’ll have me. And if that means puttin’ in the work, then I’ll do it. Whether it’s muckin’ stalls or mendin’ fences, I’m here for the long haul.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was seein’ something he hadn’t expected. Finally, he nodded. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think I’d see the day a city boy walked into my barn and left actin’ like a college-educated cowboy.”

I chuckled, rubbin’ the back of my neck. “Life’s funny that way, I guess.” He stepped closer, clappin’ a hand on my shoulder. “You keep showin’ me this side of you, and I might just start callin’ you somethin’ other than city boy.”

“I’d like that,” I said with a grin.

As he turned toward the door, he glanced back. “And your writin’? How’s that comin’ along?”

“It’s goin’ great,” I said, my grin widenin’. “Almost halfway done now. Somethin’ about bein’ here… it clears my head. The words’ve been comin’ easier than they ever did back in the city.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good. Just don’t forget where your priorities are.” “Yessir,” I said with a nod.

When he left, I leaned against the stall, feelin’ a quiet kind of satisfaction. The city had polished me up, sure, but bein’ here had reminded me of who I really was. And I wasn’t just writin’ a novel—I was rebuildin’ myself, piece by piece, with every nail I hammered and every word I wrote.

The morning sun was sittin’ high by the time Wendy finished her chores and wandered over to where I was perched on the porch, takin’ a breather with my notebook open in my lap. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be after a morning of wranglin’ chickens and tendin’ to the garden. Her hair was tucked up under her straw hat, a streak of dirt smudged on her cheek that only made her look more radiant.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” she asked, leanin’ against the porch railing and squintin’ down at the notebook like she could read it upside-down.

“Just hammerin’ out some details for the next chapter,” I said, smilin’ up at her. “Want a peek?”

Her face lit up like I’d offered her the keys to a candy shop. “You serious? I’d love to!”

I handed over the notebook, watchin’ as she plopped down on the porch swing beside me. She tucked one leg under herself, balanced the notebook on her knee, and began readin’ with an intensity that made me feel like a schoolboy waitin’ on a grade.

Her lips moved faintly as she read, and every so often, her eyes widened or her brow furrowed, her reactions tellin’ me more than words ever could. When she finally closed the notebook, she let out a breath and turned to me, her gaze so earnest it made my heart skip a beat. “This is really good,” she said, her voice soft but certain.

“You think so?” I asked, my voice comin’ out a little rougher than I intended.

“Yeah,” she said, noddin’ like she was tryin’ to convince me as much as herself. “I love your use of imagery. Like here”—she flipped back a page and pointed—“when you described the sunset as ‘a lazy cat stretchin’ across the horizon, all claws of pink and gold.’ That’s such a vivid, unexpected image, but it fits perfectly.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feelin’ heat creep up under my collar. “Well, uh, thanks.”

“And the foreshadowing!” she continued, her enthusiasm bubblin’ over. “It’s subtle, but it’s there, like breadcrumbs leadin’ the reader without them even realizin’ it. And your style—it seems simple at first, but the more I read, the more layers I see. It’s like a quilt, each piece tellin’ its own story but all stitched together into somethin’ whole.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “You sure do talk pretty, Wendy. Soundin’ downright college-educated there.”

She laughed, leanin’ back against the swing. “That’s because I am. I’ve got a doctorate in literary sciences and linguistics.” The notebook nearly slipped from my hands. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“Nope.” She beamed, sittin’ up straighter. “Defended my dissertation three years ago. I studied how storytelling shapes language development in children and how it’s tied to intelligence across cultures.” I let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. Here I was thinkin’ I was impressin’ you, and you’ve probably forgotten more about literature than I’ll ever know.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said, tappin’ my notebook with a playful smirk. “You’ve got talent. And it’s not just your imagery or style—it’s the way you understand people, their struggles and joys. That’s the kind of thing no amount of study can teach you.”

“Guess I had a good teacher, then,” I said, thinkin’ back to my dad and the way he’d always read to us as kids, his voice deep and steady, drawin’ me into worlds far beyond our little farm.

That comment must’ve sparked somethin’, because soon we were knee-deep in a conversation about the role of stories in human history. Wendy talked about how oral traditions preserved culture and passed down knowledge long before writin’ was a thing, and I chimed in about how even now, stories are how we make sense of a world that don’t always make sense on its own.

Her words were sharp and insightful, but there was a warmth to ’em, too, like she wasn’t just speakin’ from her head but from her heart. And the more we talked, the more I found myself leanin’ into a rhythm I hadn’t felt in years. My words slowed, pickin’ up a drawl I hadn’t noticed before, and my thoughts came together like rows of crops, neat and orderly, every idea growin’ from the one before it.

By the time we circled back to my novel, I realized the city boy I’d been tryin’ to be all these years had vanished like smoke on the wind. What was left was me—plain and simple. A man who loved the land, loved the work, and, if I was bein’ honest, was startin’ to think he might love the woman sittin’ beside him, too.

“You know,” I said, my voice lower and softer than it’d been in years, “I reckon I’ve learned more sittin’ here talkin’ to you than I ever did in a lecture hall.”

Wendy smiled, her eyes crinklin’ at the corners. “That’s sweet, but I think you’ve had it in you all along. You just needed the right person to bring it out.”

“Well,” I said, settlin’ back against the swing, “ain’t no one better for the job than you, darlin’.”

The word slipped out natural as breath, and when she looked at me, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink, I knew there wasn’t a lick of the city left in me. I was home, in every sense of the word.

The evening had settled into that perfect sweet spot where the sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a soft lavender, with the warmth of the day still lingering in the air. Wendy and I were dressed a little nicer than usual for tonight’s double date, but still, nothing fancy. Wendy wore a simple sundress, her hair flowing freely in the warm breeze, and I had on a button-down shirt that was slightly wrinkled from the long day on the farm.

Joy and Arbor arrived shortly after we did, with Arbor flashing me a grin that told me he was fully aware of what he was about to witness. Arbor had always been an easy-going guy, someone I could always depend on during the roughest farm days, but I hadn’t seen him in a while since I’d been away at college. And now? Well, now I was feelin’ like a completely different man, for better or worse.

Wendy gave him a quick hug, and then we all sat down at a cozy corner booth at the little family-owned restaurant. The conversation started easy enough—Joy asking about the farm, Wendy laughing at some old memory I had of accidentally dropping a whole bucket of feed into the wrong stall, and Arbor sitting back with a knowing smile, looking from me to Wendy with a strange amusement.

At some point, Arbor’s eyes flicked over to me. He paused mid-sentence, setting his glass down. “You know, Austin,” he said, drawing out my name like he was testing it on his tongue, “it’s funny. I barely recognized you when I first walked in. I mean, you’re like… a whole new person.” I shot him a glance, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled, leaning back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. “I used to know you as that city kid, always talkin’ about how you couldn’t wait to leave the farm and go back to the hustle and bustle of college life. And now look at you.” He gestured to my shirt, the way I was sitting—relaxed, comfortable, with a quiet confidence I hadn’t exactly had back in the day.

“Well, I did spend a few years learning how to blend in with the city folks,” I said with a chuckle, though the words didn’t quite fit right in my mouth anymore. “Guess I was hopin’ I could shake off the farm life a bit.” Arbor raised his eyebrows, giving me a look that said he knew better. “You sure you’ve shaken it off? I mean, not that I’m complainin’, but you’ve got a whole different energy now. You talk slower, sit straighter… and I swear to God, you even sound different. I can hear that Southern drawl comin’ out now. You’re startin’ to sound like a damn cowboy, Austin. Hell, you even look like one.”

I could feel my face heat up, and I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, glancing over at Wendy. She was smiling at me with a gleam in her eyes, clearly enjoying the show. I leaned forward, catching Arbor’s gaze. “Guess the farm has a way of rubbin’ off on a fella. Guess I’m just more comfortable here. More at home, y’know?”

Arbor didn’t look surprised, but there was a touch of nostalgia in his eyes as he leaned forward. “Yeah, I get that. Used to be you’d complain about every single chore, but now you’re workin’ alongside it all, like it’s second nature to you. You’ve really found your place, huh?”

I let out a slow breath, glancing down at my hands. “Funny how things change when you’re not tryin’ to force ‘em. I didn’t expect to end up here, but here I am. Feels like I’ve found somethin’ that I’ve been missin’.”

Arbor studied me for a moment before nodding slowly. “You’re happier here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said simply, my voice a little more sure of itself. “Guess I am.” Wendy, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned over to me, her voice soft but warm. “I think it’s more than just the farm, though. It’s who you’ve become. Who you really are.”

I felt a rush of something in my chest. She was right. It wasn’t just the farm. It was the way I’d come back to myself, to the boy I used to be, before all the city pressures and the desire to be something I wasn’t. This… this felt like the real me.

As the conversation moved on, I noticed that Arbor was glancing over at me every now and then, like he was piecing something together in his mind. Finally, he put his glass down, looked me dead in the eye, and said,

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it. You know, when we were workin’ together back in the day, I always saw you as a city kid tryin’ to find his way in the world. But now? Now you’re more grounded. More… at peace with yourself. Hell, I don’t know if it’s the farm, or Wendy, or just you finally growin’ up, but I gotta say… it’s a damn good change.”

Wendy smiled at the comment, but I could see something flicker behind her eyes—pride, maybe? Maybe even something deeper. Something between the two of us that I wasn’t ready to name yet, but I could feel it growin’ every time we spoke, every time we shared a quiet moment. I smiled back at Arbor. “Thanks, man. I guess it’s been a good ride so far.” Arbor winked. “Well, I’ll be damned, Austin. I think you’ve finally come home.”

The night had wound down, the warmth of the evening still hanging in the air as we walked back to the farm. The others had already gone, laughing and chatting as they made their way home, leaving Wendy and me alone under the deep velvet sky, the stars twinkling like diamonds above.

We walked side by side, the soft crunch of gravel beneath our boots the only sound, and yet, everything felt so loud—like the world was holding its breath. I couldn’t help but glance over at her every so often, her profile illuminated by the faint glow of the porch light up ahead.

There was something about the way she carried herself now. It wasn’t just her beauty—though God, she was beautiful—but the way she held the world around her like it was hers to nurture. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, the way she loved this farm and everything it stood for. And it was the way she made me feel like I belonged here too.

We stopped just outside the door, and for a moment, everything went quiet. The door was just a few feet away, but neither of us moved. I felt her presence like a pull, like gravity, and I couldn’t look away from her.

“You know, you really have changed, Austin,” she said softly, her voice full of affection, her eyes warm as they met mine.

I shifted my weight, unsure how to respond to that, but before I could think of anything to say, she continued, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“I mean, I loved the city boy at first,” she started, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but now? Now I get to see my cowboy come alive. And it’s… honestly the best thing ever. I didn’t know it could feel this good, watching someone finally shed their old skin and become who they really are.”

I felt my heart skip a beat at her words. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she spoke about it, how proud she was of me—not just for the changes I’d made, but for being me. The me that was finally here, in the place I was meant to be.

Wendy took a step closer, and for a moment, I thought she might say something more, but instead, she grinned, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint.

“You know,” she started, voice dropping a little lower, “I think I’m gonna claim you, Austin.”

I blinked, caught off guard, and she raised an eyebrow at me. “Claim me?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow of my own, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Yeah,” she said with that same mischievous grin. “I mean, I might have to brand you, you know? Just to make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

My mouth went dry. I laughed, trying to keep my cool, but there was something so serious in her expression that made me pause, my heart racing.

“You’re gonna brand me?” I asked, a grin spreading across my face despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

“Yep,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of finality. “I’ll get one of those hot irons and press it right on your arm—just a little mark, so you know, everyone knows you’re mine.”

I just stared at her, dumbfounded. My heart was pounding, and my throat felt a little dry.

She was so sure of it, her face beaming with joy, and I couldn’t help but be absolutely enthralled by her excitement. The way she spoke about it, the way she was so open, so confident in her love, it left me speechless.

“Wendy,” I murmured, unable to find the right words at first, but then, something shifted. Her energy was so infectious, so full of life, that I finally found my voice. “You… you make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed, her face lighting up at my response. “Well, that’s the point,” she said, her voice softening just slightly as she reached up to place a hand on my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart. “I want you to feel like that. I want you to feel like you belong here, with me.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for her, pulling her closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. The way she fit into my arms, how easy it felt to hold her—it was like she was meant to be there. Like we were meant to be here, together.

“Wendy,” I said again, this time, my voice more steady, more sure. “I… I’ve never known anything like this before. You’ve made me realize so much, and I—” I stopped myself, then took a deep breath. “I love you. I love everything about you.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with wide eyes, her lips parted in surprise. And then, a smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she reached up, cupping my face in her hands. “I love you too, Austin,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. Someone who would make me feel this way.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away. There were no words left to say, because everything we needed to communicate had already been said in that one simple moment.

And then, with that same mischievous glint in her eye, she looked up at me again and said, “Now… about that brand?” I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart swelling with affection for this woman who had not only claimed my heart but had made me see the world in ways I never imagined.

“Guess I’ll just have to take you up on that,” I teased, grinning down at her. “But I’m pretty sure there’s nothin’ more permanent than the way you’ve already got me.”

And with that, she laughed, the sound filling the night air, and for the first time in my life, I realized just how right it felt to be exactly where I was—with her, in this moment, in this life we were building together. The night moved on after that, filled with lighthearted chatter, but my mind kept wanderin’ back to Arbor’s words. You’ve finally come home. And for the first time in a long while, I realized… he was right. This was home. With Wendy. With the farm. With everything that had come together. The world around us faded away, the only thing left in focus was Wendy in my arms. Her breath was steady, but I could feel her heart thumpin’ against my chest, beatin’ in time with my own. She pulled back just enough to look up at me, those eyes of hers piercin’ right through me like she could see deep down into my soul. I’d always prided myself on bein’ a man of steady hands and steady nerves, but now, standin’ here with her, I realized she could shake my whole world with just a look.

Her smile, soft but sure, sent a shiver through me. When she leaned in just a bit closer, pressin’ herself up against me, the air got thick, heavy with something that felt like it was pullin’ me deeper. My heart pounded, my breath caught. It wasn’t just the way she looked—it was the way she made me feel. She had a way of makin’ everything around her seem so real, so vivid, that it felt like nothin’ else mattered but the two of us. Her hand slid from my chest to my jaw, gently tracing the line of it like she had every right to be there. I was dizzy from the way she made me feel, lightheaded with the power of it. “You’re incredible, you know that?” she whispered, her voice low, warm, full of affection.

I had to swallow hard, tryin’ to keep my composure, but truth be told, she’d already knocked that all to hell. “I’m just a fella who loves you, Wendy,” I managed to get out, my voice rough from the weight of it all. Her grin stretched even wider, and damn if it didn’t make the world brighter. “Well, lucky for you, I love you back, cowboy,” she teased, but I could hear the sincerity in her voice, feelin’ it in my bones. No question in my mind now. We were in this together.

She must’ve felt the shift in me ‘cause her smile softened, her fingers threading through my hair like she wasn’t ever gonna let me go. I could feel the weight of her touch, the way it anchored me, and I wasn’t goin’ anywhere.

“Wendy…” I whispered her name like a prayer, my chest tight as I fought for air. “You… You make me feel like I’m alive, like I’m real.”

She pulled back just a hair, steadyin’ herself before meetin’ my gaze. “I am real, Austin,” she said, voice firm and steady, like she was claimin’ her place in the world, like she was tellin’ me and the whole damn world that she was here to stay. And that confidence, hell, it was somethin’ I’d never seen before. “And I’m not afraid of bein’ who I am. Not anymore. Not with you.”

Her words hit me like a damn freight train, and I felt the grip she had on me, both physically and emotionally, as strong as a rope lassoed tight ’round my heart. She held me with a strength I hadn’t known anyone could possess, the quiet power of a woman who knew exactly who she was and wasn’t afraid to show it. And damn, it made me fall harder for her.

Her hand moved from my chest to my face, her thumb tracing across my skin, and I couldn’t stop lookin’ at her. My gaze drank her in, savorin’ every curve, every line, every inch of her. She had me in the palm of her hand, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I’ve never been this sure about anything in my life,” she said softly, almost like a confession. “Not just about us, but about me. About everything.”

Her words, full of certainty, confidence, and self-assurance, made my chest swell. I didn’t know what it was about her, but she made me feel seen, like I wasn’t just some guy from the city tryin’ to make a life. I was somebody. I was hers. And she was mine.

I pulled her in closer, my hands cuppin’ her face like she was somethin’ too precious to let go of. “You’re incredible, Wendy. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone like you.”

She tilted her head, her eyes steady on me, that smile of hers not just a smile anymore but a damn promise. It was a promise that she was mine, and I was hers. And that made everything feel right in the world.

She leaned in, close enough now that I could feel her breath on my lips, whisperin’ soft as silk, “You’re mine, cowboy. All mine.” And in that moment, all the walls, all the doubts, the pieces of me that were still unsure—hell, they were gone. There wasn’t a single trace of that old life left. No more “city boy.” There was just me, the cowboy, standin’ here with her, and I was complete.

My heart raced, but this time, it was a good kind of fast. And as she held me tight, her confidence spillin’ into me like a steady stream, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest son of a gun in the world.

The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Donny lay on his back on Wendy’s bed, his arm casually draped around her as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Her forehead grazed his jaw as she shifted to get more comfortable. The faint scent of her skin, a mix of something sweet and wild, lingered in the air between them.

Wendy sighed, her breath warm against his chest as she traced lazy circles on his stomach with her fingers. “You know, for all the chaos in our lives, moments like this make it feel… simple,” she murmured.

“Simple, huh?” Donny chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I don’t think anything about us is simple”

She smirked, glancing up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Okay, maybe not simple. But… I like that when I’m with you, everything else fades away,” she teased, giving them a gentle shake for emphasis.

My smile deepened as his hand slid down to her back, gently brushing my fingers against the small of her back just above her waist. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed, her body responding to my careful, affectionate touch. My fingertips traced the soft membrane of her back, moving slowly so as not to overwhelm her.

“You know, this is still new for me,” Wendy said softly, her voice betraying a mixture of vulnerability, contentedness, and curiosity. “I’m not used to… anyone touching me. Especially with them being so sensitive,”

“Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice gentle as my fingers continued their slow, calming strokes along her shoulder blades.

“No, it’s… actually kind of nice, too nice” she admitted, a small smile playing at her lips as she nestled closer to me.

My other hand found its way to her tummy, gently running along the length of it with the same care he’d shown her back. Wendy’s eyes fluttered closed as she melted further into my embrace, a soft sound of contentment escaping her lips.

“You always know how to make me feel safe,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the plan,” I said with a smile, my touch never faltering as I pet her tummy and shoulders in slow, soothing patterns. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

Her eyes softened as she rested her cheek against my chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. “Good. Because I can’t imagine going through all of this without you.” There was a vulnerability in her voice now, one she rarely let show. “You ground me, Austin. When I’m with you, I feel like I can handle whatever’s coming.”

I shifted, tightening my arm around her as I pulled her closer. “You’re stronger than you think, Wendy. You don’t need me to handle anything. But… I’ll be here anyway. Always.”

She smiled at that, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “That’s the thing. You always make me feel stronger. But I don’t want to be strong all the time. Sometimes I just want to be… here. With you. Like this.”

“I think I can live with that,” I said, my fingers continuing their gentle exploration of her body. “Besides, it’s not like I’m exactly looking for an excuse to be anywhere else.”

Wendy tilted her head up to look at me, her expression mischievous now. “Is that so? What if I told you I was going to turn into a giant succubus monster and you’d have to deal with all my dramatic mood swings forever?”

I raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Then I’d say bring it on.

I can handle your mood swings. I’ve already got a pretty good track record with you.”

She gave me a light smack on the chest, though there was no real force behind it. “Jerk.”

“Hey, you love it,” I teased, dipping my head to kiss her again, this time on the lips, lingering just a little longer.

Wendy grinned against my mouth, her hand sliding up to cup the side of my face. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

We lay there in silence for a while after that, the quiet between us comfortable and full of unspoken promises. The world outside felt far away, the weight of our lives reduced to nothing in the warmth of our shared space. Finally, Wendy broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. “No matter what happens… no matter who or what comes for us… I’ll always fight for you, Austin.”

I looked down at her, my heart swelling at the determination in her eyes. “And I’ll always be there, fighting right beside you. We’re in this together.” She smiled, that familiar spark of playful mischief returning to her gaze. “Good. Because I’m not letting you off the hook. Ever.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers once more as my hand found its way back to her cheeks, caressing them tenderly, sealing the quiet vow we both knew we'd keep for as long as it took—through every storm and shadow.

As we settled back into each other’s arms, the world could wait. For now, it was just us. As I continued to trace lines and trails around Wendy’s body

#kpop #K-pop fanfic #red velvet x reader #red velvet male reader #wendy fanfic #red velvet wendy #wendy fluff #wendy x male reader

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jung-shook-iieee · 2 years ago

Text

3:15 | JJK

⊶ pairing : jungkook x venom x reader. (f)

⊶ Warnings : cw: 18+ , alien sex? Not technically lol, unprotected sex, creampies, size difference, size kink, belly bulge, stalking, mention of eating people.. Yikes *, overstimulation.

⊶ Word count : 1.4k

" Jungkook and venom really likes you. "

⊶ A/N : venom is scary. Isn't he? 👀

⊶ A/N2 : don't ask me why I wrote this I mean i was just watching an edit of jk x venom and in the next few moment I started writing this. Hehe :)

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Jungkook and his alien buddy aka venom doesn't know if that is love.

They only know that you make their heart beats fast every time they see you; they know that their palms start to sweat when they watch you smile at men who are not them; they both know why their stomach stops growling when your eyes meet by sheer coincidence and they know their cocks gets hard when they silently watch you sleep, hiding in the darkness of your bedroom.

Even though jungkook's body accepted the symbiote but still venom needed permission from his higher ups to stay here a bit longer.

You won't believe how strongly jungkook and the symbiote had built their relationship over a short period of time. They were one after all.

They both followed you around town while you ran errands in that nice short sundress and picturing how you were wearing nothing underneath. They would learned the streets and routes you took when you went out shopping with your friends, the stores you liked best, the dishes you preferred to eat when you went out to lunch with them, the drinks you loved to sip on warm afternoons. They watched as you turned away men who approached you on the way home, the ones who whistled at you - and wasn't it quite mysterious why those men disappeared the next day?

And there's no way you would know that the symbiote ate them alive after you left. Right? :)

And they weren't always this crazy about you. They weren't even aware of your existence until that day. The day when you were going home back and you were drunk, some old perverts tried to molest you. You surely did not remember them, but the moment jungkook laid his eyes on you he lost it, and so did venom. They helped you did not they? Venom munched on their livers in front of you and you weren't even scared of that..!! That's how they knew you were the one.

But jungkook did not wanted to take risk so he asked venom not to do something stupid, which might scare you away.

But then why in the middle of the night you feel yourself being dragged out of your bed by a strange presence??? It must be your dreams, those filthy dreams which can not be converted into reality right? But the grip on your hips were too strong to be a dream.

Jungkook sometimes fail to resist you, he's a human after all! and venom would only ignite his filthy thoughts about you , so they both sneak in your room and sometimes he let venom take control.....!!!!

Jungkook easily lifts you by the waist. he rips off your panties with his thick fingers, his chest is hard as he pulls you toward him, and a thick cock begins to rub between your folds.

"we're gonna make you feel so good princess. " Venom speaks inside jungkook's mind and jungkook mumbled a ' yes. '

" She's ours gguk, make her ours. " Venom growls over jungkook's shoulders, jungkook nodded his head, " She's mine, she's ours. "

it certainly can't be a dream, right? not when your cunt is completely soaked and jungkook starts hissing in frustration when his thick cock doesn't fit your tight slit.

your head falls back as the thick tip of his cock rubs between your slick folds and brushed against your nub.

" Just fuck her goddam kid. " Venom grumbles impatiently.

" Shut up V. We don't want to wake her up now. It's too risky. " Jungkook warned venom.

" Then let her see us, feel us. Let me out I'll take her. " Venom said impatiently inside jungkook's head. Jungkook knew you would not be able to take the symbiote for sure, he would have to prep you for that first.

" No we can't do that right now, fuck fine wait. " Jungkook frowned and he slammed his inside you making you whimper in your sleep. You arched your back and opened your mouth slightly.

"feels good, doesn't it, pretty baby?" Jungkook asks clutching your hips and using you like a fleshlight.

your sloppy cunt makes obscene noises as you are rocked back and forth, your nails scratch his thick arms, and as you reach the edge you gush onto his long shaft.

his chest slowly rises and falls, Beel feels so frustrated. your sweet cunt is too tight for his monstrous cock - damn it, by dint of grinding his head into your slit he'll end up cumming even before he has tasted your smooth walls.

" Ahh. Sto-p." you sob, looking between your thighs, with blurry eyes, slick of pre-cum mixed with your cream coats his huge cock, sliding over your thighs and down your legs.

" Don't stop gguk she's desperate for us. You cannot stop. " Jungkook nods and bites lower lip as started thrusting faster inside you.

Venom increased jungkook's dick size inside you and you can't get enough of it. Your eyes we're teary you could clearly make the difference between a dream and reality but you couldn't utter any word. You weren't pushing him away either and that made jungkook confused

Jungkook holds you firmly under your knees before spreading your legs wide and taking a deep breath. "you smell good and i'm sure you taste even better," he licks his lips before lining you up on his cock.

"Yes she smells divine jeon, the next time I'm eating her out till she faints. " Venom said over jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook only laughed at that.

his cock bullies its way into your slit. he stretches and spreads your cunt inch by inch. you cream when he's half inside, making his job easier.

You moan and cry out as his big hands hold you firmly, . his fat cock throbs inside your slit - in the darkness of the room you can glimpse the outline of his cock in your belly. it makes you feel dirty and aroused, being used as a toy by that creature or human as if you were made just to satisfy those huge, hungry beasts.

Jungkook knows venom is making his dick too big for you, but nothing can stop him, not now that your pretty pussy tightens around his fat girth. his cock throbs as he thrusts deep into it, his balls finally hitting your ass as he begins to bounce you on his veiny shaft.

he tosses you up and down on his veiny cock clutching you behind your knees, holding you wide open as you scream and cum - and he thrusts even deeper, making you come again and again.

" She's such a good girl," Venom murmurs in jungkook's ear as your legs dangle over his forearms. you could cum again just from the position, you're sure.

you become a doll in jungkook's arms as he uses you, bounces you up and down, licks and sucks your neck, murmurs in your ear before filling your belly with his sticky seed

there's so much of it. more and more, there seems to be no end. fills your belly and overflows from your cunt. his cum gushes from your slit even though his thick cock plugs it inside.

when he pulls it out, a pop echoes in your room.

your mixed cum slides out of you and he casually drops you on the mattress. shocked and still shaking you try to catch your breath, your spread pussy is aching, and your limbs are flabby as you slump onto the pillow and fall asleep exhausted.

They both admire the view huffing, venom would fuck you the next time he already made that decision.

They kissed you and cleaned you, though venom was persistent on leaving you like this so you could remember this but jungkook cleaned you nevertheless. He's a good guy isn't he?

Jungkook tucked you under the blanket and left with venom.

maybe you'll have a different dream this time or maybe you'll dream them again. Because, it was a dream after all, wasn't it?

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A/N 3 - do you guys like venom? I mean he's hot. 💀

@yellabella77 @g-o-bs--fanfictions @cherryunie @goofyhoffy @kooookie @miyaohyeahh @minpdrecs

* please help me grow my community. :)

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fanficlolsblog · 3 months ago

Text

GOOD LUCK, BABE!

back to my main masterlist

pairing: fem!reader x taylor swift

summary: Y/N is in a complicated relationship with taylor swift, where she wants more than just fun, but taylor isn't ready to commit. after a tough conversation, Y/N decides to end things, realizing they deserve more than casual affection. though it hurts, Y/N feels a sense of freedom and relief after walking away.

warnings: unrequited love, emotional distress, heartbreak, mention of casual relationships, mild language.

w/c: 1.4K+

The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the Nashville skyline as Taylor and I drove down the familiar streets, her vintage convertible cutting through the humid evening air. I had my hand out the window, letting the breeze whip through my fingers, but it did little to calm the storm inside me. I glanced over at Taylor, her silhouette bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. She looked perfect, like she always did—carefree, with her blonde hair flying in the wind and one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel.

She made it all look so easy. Being in her orbit was like standing too close to the sun, warm and intoxicating, but dangerous if I lingered too long. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there. It was that every time I got too close, Taylor would pull away, like she wasn’t ready to let me in, not completely.

And God, I wanted to be let in.

The past few months had been a blur of late-night drives, stolen glances, and moments that felt like they meant everything. I kept waiting for her to say something, to call this—call us—what it really was. But she never did. She’d brush it off with that effortless charm, always teasing, always deflecting, leaving me in the dark, wondering if I was just imagining things.

But I knew I wasn’t. It wasn’t just in my head. Those nights when she’d show up at my door, her eyes lit up with excitement, ready to escape into the night with me—those moments were real. They had to be.

Still, there was a part of me that had always known this wouldn’t be simple. Taylor Swift didn’t do simple. She was a universe all her own, and I was just a girl who had somehow found herself caught in her gravity. But now, as the sun dipped lower, and the city lights began to flicker to life around us, I was starting to realize I might be chasing something I could never catch.

The song on the radio faded, leaving us in a silence that felt heavier than the night. I wanted to say something, to ask her if this—whatever this was—meant something to her too. But I was scared of what she might say.

“You know,” Taylor said, breaking the quiet as if she’d been reading my mind, “we could just keep driving forever. Pretend like none of this is real.”

I turned to her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I mean, who cares about labels, right? We’re having fun. Isn’t that enough?”

I felt my heart tighten in my chest. Fun. That’s all it was to her. Fun. A game. A secret. My stomach churned, and I looked out the window, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill. I was falling for her, and she was treating this like it was just another adventure. Another thrill to chase.

“I guess I’m the fool, then,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. I didn’t know if she heard me, or if she even cared. I just felt small, like I was something to be enjoyed and then discarded when the excitement wore off.

Taylor sighed, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “Y/N, it’s fine. It’s cool. I mean, look at us—how could this not be enough?”

Enough. That word cut through me like a knife. It wasn’t enough. Not for me, not anymore.

“You can say that we’re nothing,” I muttered, not daring to look at her, “but you know the truth.”

She didn’t respond right away, and the silence felt suffocating. I wanted her to pull the car over, to stop and turn to me, to tell me that I wasn’t crazy. That this was something real. That I wasn’t just another girl in her long list of fleeting romances.

But she didn’t.

“I don’t wanna call it off,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “but you don’t wanna call it love.”

The words hung between us, heavy and thick. I had said it. I had finally put into words what I had been so afraid to admit. I loved her. But she didn’t love me back. Not in the way that I needed. Not in the way that made me feel safe, wanted, whole.

Taylor shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Then what is it like, Taylor?” I couldn’t help it. The frustration, the confusion, the hurt—it all came bubbling up to the surface, and I couldn’t keep it inside anymore. “Because I’m tired of feeling like I’m just… *there.* I just want to know where we stand.”

I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn’t turn to meet them. I couldn’t. If I looked at her, I’d break.

She sighed again, deeper this time. “You’re not just there. You’re the one I call when I need someone. You’re important to me.”

Important. But not *enough.*

“Important isn’t the same as love,” I said softly, and it felt like the final nail in the coffin. I had been fooling myself, hadn’t I? Waiting for her to say something she was never going to say.

She was quiet for a long time. The city passed by in a blur, neon lights reflecting off the windshield as we sped through downtown. I wondered what was going through her mind. Was she weighing her options? Trying to figure out how to let me down easy? Or maybe she was just tired of having to deal with this, with me.

“I think I’m gonna call it off,” I finally said, and even though it felt like a punch to the gut, I knew it was the right thing to do.

I couldn’t keep doing this—pretending like I was okay with being second best, with being the one she called when she was bored or lonely. I deserved more than that. I deserved to be loved the way I loved her.

Taylor didn’t say anything at first, and I wondered if she was even going to fight for me. For us. Part of me hoped she would. That she’d pull over, grab my hand, and tell me she was ready to stop running from whatever this was. But instead, she just kept driving.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she finally said, and her voice was so soft, so full of regret, that it almost made me second-guess everything.

But I had to be strong. I had to walk away, even if it felt like my heart was shattering into a million pieces.

“You already have,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

The car came to a stop at a red light, and I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn’t look at her. If I did, I’d fall apart. The tears were already threatening to spill, and I didn’t want her to see me break.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

I nodded, wiping at my eyes quickly. “Me too.”

The rest of the drive was quiet, the air between us heavy with all the things left unsaid. When we finally pulled up in front of my apartment, I hesitated. This was it. The end. I wanted her to say something—anything—that would make me stay. But she didn’t.

“Good luck, babe,” Taylor said softly, the words hitting harder than I’d expected.

I forced a smile, even though it felt like my heart was breaking. “Yeah. You too.”

And with that, I got out of the car, watching as she drove away, her taillights disappearing into the night. I stood there for what felt like forever, wondering if I’d made the right choice. But deep down, I knew I had. I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who wasn’t ready to be caught.

I turned and walked inside, closing the door behind me, feeling the weight of everything settle on my shoulders. It hurt, more than I thought it would, but there was a strange sense of relief too.

For the first time, I felt like I was in control of my own heart.

And for the first time, I felt free.

#Spotify #taylor swift #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift x you #imagine #gxg #wlw #fanfic #chappell roan #good luck babe

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marlsswrites · 5 months ago

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Summer camp AU, part 28!!

July 28th <3

Trend - @jegulus-microfic - words: 806

First part Previous part

"What the fuck are they doing?" Regulus snorted as he watched a group of teens whip their phones out, standing them up clumsily against a tree as they practiced dances to the most god awful songs Regulus has ever heard. "Is that supposed to be trendy?"

"I see you're feeling extra bitchy today." James ruffled his hair for the nth time that day, Regulus pretended to hate it, he huffed and rolled his eyes... yet neither of the boys seemed convinced. He loved it actually, a feeling of closeness that he would never admit to, but it was there nether the less and It made him love James even more.

love?

Fuck, when did that come into the picture?

He shook the thoughts out of his head, peering up at James and scowling, ignorant to the blush on his skin and the glint of something new, something lovely, in his eyes.

"I'm not being bitchy." He scoffed, playing a mocking tone on the last word as he raised both eyebrows at James - who, clearly not intimidated by Regulus' theatrics, laughed. His sweet, echoing, mesmerising laugh. Regulus did sometimes wonder whether that laugh was just a hoax, a trick, luring him in and preparing to break his heart and leave him in shambles on the floor, drowning in his own blood and tears because he did this to himself.

There's always a voice at the back of his head that repeats that whenever James so much as looks at him. He tries to ignore it, push it away, but he can't always do that. He wants to love, to trust, to live, is that so hard?

"Sure you aren't Reggie."

Rolling his eyes, he felt a twinge of pain in his ankle. He’d had some pain in his foot since he tripped on that walk yesterday, it wasn’t awful, but still not pleasant. Reaching down to rub it slightly, he felt a bruise forming on his lower leg as he spun his ankle around.

"Are you okay?" James' voice converted from his once teasing tone to a now caring, cherishing, loving one as he ducked his head to try and see Regulus' face. "What's up?"

"Think I hurt my ankle yesterday." He mumbled.

James grimaced. "Let me see." Regulus obliged, lifting his leg and draping it over James' lap so the other man could get a better look. Soft fingertips brushed around his ankle, softly pressing on the hurt part of his leg. Shivers and strung up pain ran up his leg, but all he could focus on was James. "Does that hurt?"

"A little."

Lifting his hand closer to his face, James checked the time and looked back at Regulus quickly. He was absentmindedly stroking his hand over Regulus' leg as he spoke, or maybe it was on purpose, either thought made Regulus feel things he really shouldn't be right now.

"Well." James coughed. "We need to leave in about two minutes to walk the kids back to the cabins." He spoke, a smile growing more prominent as he spoke. "Might have to carry you back." He winked.

Regulus felt a startled laugh leave his mouth, he shook his head fondly and attempted to bite down his smile as he scolded the older boy. Though it wasn't really scolding, it never was, Regulus just lectured him and James seemed to enjoy it for some sick reason that he's not going to think too much about. "For one, I can walk." He started. "And you would not be able to pick me up." Regulus snorted as he climbed up from the bench to prove that he could actually walk himself.

"Oh I bet I could." James drawled with a suspicious smile as he stood and followed Regulus away from their previous seat.

"I-" Before he could speak another word, James swiped him from his feet, hauling him over his shoulder with an embarrassing scream mixed with a laugh as James held onto his thighs. "James!"

The older just spun him around, laughing along with him with a sure sunlit smile on his face. "You were saying?"

"Put me down!" He hissed, still a smile couldn't wipe itself off Regulus' flushed and aching face from how much James made him feel, the smiles, the heartache, the fondness - every single bit of it. "James Potter I swear-"

James only trudged forward, patting Regulus' legs as he did so. "Nope, I'm carrying you back now."

Regulus wanted to retort, to yell at him and kick him - but then again he didn't. He only laughed and pressed his head into the lower part of James' cinnamon smelling t-shirt, god he even smelled like he could light up the world with one single laugh, or smile, or touch alone.

Love... Regulus thinks back to a mere few minutes ago.

This is it, isn't it?

Next part

#if you saw this yesterday no you didn’t!#regulus being a bitch because he’s grumpy #me core #also James picking him up like a fucking feather is so canon #marauders #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #regulus x james #starchaser #writers on tumblr

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kurogxrix · 1 year ago

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150 kilometers

Police Officer!Ghost x reader

IN WHICH Officer Ghost catches you speeding way past the limit, but you to think of a way or two to avoid a ticket.

WC: 5.6k

Warnings: ANGST, smut, reader and Simon have history, oral (M), unprotected PinV, creampie, Simon’s unresolved feelings.

“My momma told me that the money outgrew you,”

The sound of Beyoncé’s ‘AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM’ was blasting through your car’s radio, barely audible with the way the passing wind was howling so aggressively. You had no one else to blame but yourself, the numbers 150 were in blast on your speedometer, yet you pretended to fall blind to it. It was all the more irresponsible and dangerous, yet who cared if you exceeded the 80km/h speed limit plastered on the signs each few metres if there was no one to witness the act but yourself.

Solitude greeted you upon the streets, but you preferred it that way anyway.

Nevertheless, one of your hands left the wheel to usher the sound up. Kendrick just had that effect on people. The breeze brushed through your freshly done hair, ruffling the style that you’d wasted an hour doing that same morning. Hair be damned, you had better places to be than on that deserted road. The engine of your pink convertible roared as you pressed further onto the pedal, a precious jewel that your father had gifted you. One that you’d gotten customised to your heart's extent.

The sudden voice of the ‘Maps’ app assistant made you jolt slightly in your seat, making your car swerve about a few centimetres to the left. You shook your head in disappointment, god knows that that’d have ended if you were on the main road. The openings of the bag resting on the passenger seat beside you ruffled with the passing wind, the sun hitting your skin in all the most comforting ways.

Nothing on this beautifully sunny day could have prepared you for the sudden flash of red and blue behind you, which could barely be seen considering the weather. You were 100% sure that this cop had popped out of thin air, because besides the lack of hiding spots besides the road, you knew that no car had followed you off the busy main road. Unless they’d broken the law and driven 70km/h above the speed limit alongside you. You could probably use that argument against said cop, yet again you feared he’d charge you extra just for getting smart with him.

To top the absolute mess that you had gotten yourself into, the cop just had to signal you. The sound of his blaring alarm made a wave of embarrassment wash down your spine, despite being the two lone people accepting the street.

“Fuck,” you cursed, bring the car to a stop once you’d bordered in to the side. You brushed down the vanity mirror before attempting to take your hair quickly, because if you were to get a ticket, then you might as well look amazing while doing it.

Simon on his side was far too busy trying to recollect himself before leaving the car, pretending to busy himself with the fetch of his talkie-walkie as he inhaled a whole yard worth of air into his lungs. The packet of cigarettes lodged in his breast pocket begged at him for a second of his time, but he also had duties calling out for him.

Out of all odds, he’d fallen on your car with you in it while he was on duty. He could have just called it a day and let you escape with the little victory of outrunning a cop, he’d be far better than he was then.

Nevertheless, the push of his SUV door felt even heavier than it did on normal days. He feels a tinge of unease for a man that harbours the muscles that he does, but he convinced himself that he just wasn’t in his element at that moment.

Unenthusiastic brown eyes fell upon the familiar licence plate, and suddenly he didn’t feel as brave as he did that same morning. His booted feet were bringing him forwards but his mind couldn’t help but reel further backwards. To the times where you’d both been mindless enough to mess around, unaware of all but the sweet scent of those rose candles that you’d lit before he’d come over. To the feeling of the sheets pooled around his bare hips in the aftermath of it all, and how distant the feel of your arms wrapped around his torso as you slept soundly now felt.

Simon shook the intrusive thoughts away, raising his head and retaking the stance of the brave officer that he was. After all, all he needed to do was give you your ticket, reprimand you and send you off to wherever you were heading to. What was all the fuss about? Even if he knew, he would let his brain bother him.

The heavy thud of his boots stopped beside your car door, the lack of protection from the windows and roof only scaring you now.

“Do you know why I stopped you today?” you heard the annoyed sigh come, before the familiar tune of a middle aged man’s voice hit your ears. You turned your head towards his side so fast that you believed you would have broken it. Nevertheless, here he stood before you in all of his glory; Simon Riley, the man who’d rocked your world a couple of moons ago.

You’d both agreed on the whole no strings attached thing, but you couldn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest once you realised on that fateful night that Simon wasn’t coming back. That the brit wouldn’t be here to ruffle your sheets and leave the bed intact while you hit the showers anymore. That the scent of roses would never feel as romantic as it did in his wake. It almost pained you to throw away that extra toothbrush that you’d gotten for him considering the amount of days a week he’d woken up at your house rather than his.

You shook the thoughts away before hitting him with that overly sickening sweet smile of yours that you offered to all the others, because it wasn’t Simon Riley that you were facing at the instant, it was Officer Ghost.

“I don’t know Officer, mind explaining to me?” The sultry tone of your question made Simon mentally double back. Be damned, your words even shocked you for a solid second before you could recover. Whatever the fuck you were doing flirting with your ex fling just to get out of a speed ticket? Only a madwoman would know.

But of course you would, you knew that Simon had once been weak to your charms, and if you need to use that weakness of him at anytime; it would for sure be now. The blond can’t help his eyes from drifting into your car as he processed your words, admiring the personal touches that you’d gotten done in the last few months.

He notes the fact that you’re barefoot because of the pair of heels that we’re resting under the passenger seat. You’d probably wear them later to whatever you were heading. Could it be to a boyfriend's house? To the club maybe where you’d meet and flirt with the young, hammered men that dared to lay their creeping eyes on you? Simon shook the stupid thoughts away, so what if you had a boyfriend? There was never something consistent going on between you two, and anyways your arrangement had ended long ago. You were free to date of fuck whichever guy you wanted to, he didn’t feel like he had a right to pry.

Yet why did he feel a tinge of jealousy each time the thought would pop up in his head, like a nightmare haunting him at every given moment. The thought picked at him, a nasty feeling stirring in his abdomen tinged with shame. He was the one who’s decided to cut off all strings in the first place, strings that you'd both agreed to stray away from. Yet all he felt was guilt for the durations of the few months you’ve spent apart after the ‘break up’.

“Was I driving too fast, officer? I didn’t even notice.” The flirtatious giggle broke Simon away from his daydream, and his eyes quickly adjusted to the new scene. You were no longer seated, belted in the comfort of your seat. Instead, your knees were planted firmly on your seat, digging into the leather. He noticed that you were standing far closer than you previously were in your seated position, your arms extended so you could rest your palms along the place where your windows would be.

Fuck, all he wanted to do was to take you right there. Even if this really was the last time you’d see each other in a while or at all, he just wanted to feel you for a last time after so long spent without your warmth. It was shameful really, this was the first time you’d seen each other after the events of your silent heartbreak, yet all he wished for was to have his way with you on the warm leather backseats of your car.

He couldn’t care less about the fact that you had a convertible, nobody even used this street. Nobody other than you of course, because you wouldn’t have been in this predicament if not.

“You okay?” Simon recognized the fake tune of concern in your question as your palm made contact with the tactical vest upon his chest, resting on the right side of his torso. His eyes were firm and threatening once they reached yours, but you didn’t back down. You'd been with him once, he didn’t scare you as he did others. His resolve completely melted away the instant that you flashed him those down eyes that you knew he couldn’t resist.

For a split second, Simon allowed his eyes to drift down onto you. If you were shamelessly and all the more not trying to hide the fact that you were flirting with him just to escape a fine, then he shouldn’t have to hide his wandering gaze anyway. Hardened brown iris rounded the corner, observing the way your dress stuck perfectly to your body. The way you were squeezing your arms to accentuate the low cut of that beautiful dress that you wore with pride.

He mentally cursed himself as he felt the material of his cargos tightening under his growing erection, and he had no one else to blame but you. The way you were smiling at him in that coy manner made him want to have you sobbing and choking around his cock, eyes full of tears and mascara leaking down your cheeks. If anything, he wanted to ruin you before you arrived at your destination, and a nasty side of him wished you were actually off to see a guy.

Suddenly, Simon jerked back once he felt the palm of your hand pawing at his erection. He’s taken by surprise at your boldness, not that you were shy with him before, it’s just been so long. He grunts in disapproval at the situation before moving further away from your car to try and stop himself from actually doing what he wishes to do to you. Because it’s not fair on you, you should be yelling at him to hurry up and fine you before leaving. Yell at him for stalling just to be in your presence when he made you feel like he didn’t want it before.

Yet, Simon watched intently as you sat up further onto your knees, a hand reaching out for him once more. He allows your hand to hover over the gear on his tactical vest before succumbing to the weak pull to your way. He could have always fought back if he wanted to, pulled further away instead of leading himself right where you wanted him to be. No matter how burly or tatted he was on the outside, he submitted to you unlike the man that he was.

“Cmon, how long has it been Si? Have you missed this? Just the two of us here, you don’t gotta hold it in.” The silence that Ghost held was broken once your hand dipped down to his pants once more, a hearty groan escaping his throat involuntary. Your hand went to the underside of his clothed crotch, caressing what you could, what he offered.

Yet it wasn’t enough to satiate you, and the little devil resting on your shoulder whispered ungodly things to you. Officer Ghost was just so tall, it was like the world was on your side once you’d noticed that his waistline just happened to reach above the window line of your car. It helped that the vehicle was rather low, but it failed to help with the sultry thoughts brewing in your head. The thought of sucking off Ghost out here, from your car, sent heat rushing down your core.

“Let me take care of you,” you muttered, your hand tightening around his hard, clothed cock. A shudder ran thick down Simon's back, and he didn’t need much contemplating to make up his mind. Rough gloved hands made contact with your jaw faster than you could comprehend, and next thing you knew, the pair of lips that you’d been reminiscing fell upon yours. He took pride in the way you had to tilt your head upwards to chase his lips.

The kiss was soft at first, almost apologetic for everything that he’d put you through. Like he was apologising for having you fall for him, and most likely for leaving when you thought things were advancing between the two of you. When his apology went through, his left hand slid further down to the back of your neck. Like a switch had been pressed inside of him, the kiss grew rougher as you felt Simon’s tongue poking at your bottom lip. You didn’t falter, fighting for dominance despite knowing that he’d always overpower you.

Your hands were far too busy trying to blindly understand the mechanism of his belt to worry about much else, before your fingers deciphered the mess of a buckle, pulling free the belt from his waist. Simon’s fingers grasped tightly at the tiny hairs littering your nape as he felt your hand slipping past his waistband, finally offering the pleasure he seeked as your warm palm made contact with his cock.

Hell, you’d both missed this so much. It didn’t matter if you were the one giving, you missed it just as much as he did. You couldn’t get very far before Simon pulled away from you, huge palm gripping at your wrist to pull your hand out of the confinement of his boxers. It disappointed you at first, pulling your hands back to yourself while watching him in puzzlement. He didn’t allow you to stay upset much longer as he pulled back just enough to pull his pants down far enough for everything that needs to be exposed, to be exposed.

You nearly drooled at the sight of his heavy cock flushing against his clothed torso, where you knew hid a chiselled body unlike the other men you’d ever been with. He’s thick, but nothing you can’t take, with a thin land of hair at the base that he keeps nicely trimmed. Pulsing veins ran across his cock in the most mouth watering way you could ever imagine, and you just couldn’t wait to take him in your mouth.

“You really think you’re ready? ‘Mean s’been a while now hasn’t it?” The smug smile that raised upon your lips was completely involuntary, though you enjoyed the fact that the cocky Simon that you loved was once more back. One hand gripped at the base of his cock as he dragged the heavy weight down, angling it towards your eager mouth. He’s a tease, always has been, and it didn’t matter that your torso was growing an indented line from the way you were bent over the side of your car, ass in the air and awaiting his cock patiently.

His other hand moved to grab at your jaw, a delicious cocktail between the gentleness of his touch and roughness of his palm made you squeeze your thighs together. Simon tilted your head up, squeezing your cheeks together as he enjoyed the way your lips pucker. It’s cute, he thinks. He’d like to ruin your pretty little face.

So he does just that, his feet moving on their own as he approaches you. He couldn’t care less that you’re transgressing the law by having public relations, he’s a cop yes, but inside he’s just a man. You wasted no time getting into action, pretty glossy lips wrapping softly around the tip of his cock. It’s flushed red and leaking precum that tastes funky on your tongue, but you’re so used to it by now that you’ve actually started to like it.

Your tongue swiped along his slit in the way you knew Simon relishes, and by the way he tilted his head back with a groan, you knew it was no different this time. Your mouth worked him inch by inch, lubricating his cock slowly by slowly with your saliva. No inch went untouched. What you couldn’t reach, you tried to force down your throat. And what you still couldn’t received a kitten lick here and there, a swipe of your tongue each time you thought it got neglected.

Simon's hand was now fully into your hair, a killer grip to it that had your scalp burning. Front and back, his hand guided your mouth back and forth on his dick at the speed he desired. You complied with no complaints. Taking him further down your throat, tongue running expertly down his veins as he shuddered once more. You got your hands in the business too, either gripping onto his shirt for stability or altering between the base of his cock and his balls.

He's restless, the ball of his boots digging through the dirt beneath his feet. You could tell he was close by the way his groans grew in number by the second, and the grip he had of your hair hurt better than bad. The handsome officer before you had to ground a hand down onto your car to stabilise himself as you sucked the living shit out of him, another flick to his slit and he was off seeing the stars on a holiday in the galaxy.

For a second, there was static, and then there was a voice. It rebounded into the distance, alongside the sloppy sounds of you sucking Simon’s cock like it was the last thing you were bound to do on earth. “-ost, you copy?” Again, the voice came back and Ghost could make out the harsh sound of his coworkers voice.

He groaned in disgust, nothing like hearing the voice of the guy you work with while getting the sloppiest head by some chick you secretly fancy. A minute passed by before Ghost aggressively threw his hand at the talkie-walkie, unlatching it from the velcro with a loud crack. Simon swore to the god above that he nearly came as he looked down to the sight of your doe eyes looking at him expectedly through your mascara coated eyelashes.

His hands tightened impossibly further in your hair as he motioned for you to continue sucking, which you did.

“Ghost here, copy.” a curt and unbothered reply, all in the Ghost mannerism.

His hand let go of your hair, instead claiming a spot upon your jaw. A big thumb caressed at your cheek, making the corners of your lips twist into a smile with your mouth full. You could feel him start to rock in your mouth slightly, trying to restrain himself from fucking your mouth roughly until your jaw stayed clamped shut.

“We need you on lane 3, s’that possible?” static again, the voice came out muffled. He thought for a solid second, a moan escaping his throat thankfully before he could press on the button.

“Give me a minute and I'm all yours,” his eyes shifted to yours throughout the sentence, making your cunt clench over nothing as you soaked your panties pathetically. Besides you, the talkie-walkie did a dramatic jump to the leather seat as Simon threw it. It rebounded and hit the floor instead, but nothing he’d care much about.

You brought a hand up to cup the base of Simon’s cock in your hand as your mouth took a short break to ease your paining jaw, but before you could go back to work, he was completely pulled out of the warm comfort of your mouth. A trail of saliva connected you both in an unholy mix and he pulled away, his fingers clenching around your jaw. Your eyes never met his in the exchange, too busy relishing in the way his hard length looked and glistened coated in your saliva. Fuck, you really had a problem, you could’ve sworn you’d go crazy if Simon didn’t fuck you right then.

“Get in the back, we don’t have much time.” he grumbled like you were the one asking for too much. If anything, the way his hard cock twitched at the disappearance of your touch made you think quite the opposite. Quickly hopping in the back and abandoning your place in the front seat, you watched as Simon made his way to the back door from outside.

He opened the door, eager to have you and ready for all until-

“Woaaaaah, nobody’s getting in with their nasty ass shoes you hear me? Get them off, cmon” you pushed at his chest before he could even open the door, making Simon stop and stare at you dumbfounded. When he made no move to untie his boots and moved to open the door once more, you pushed harder against his chest, an eyebrow up to show that you weren’t fucking around.

A defeated sigh left him as he bent down, undoing the double knots that he’d done that same morning. You smiled contentedly in success, moving away for him to have a seat so he’d be able to carefully slide his shoes off. You didn’t miss the grumbling from the grouchy middle aged man as he sat upon your seats, large hands working together to throw his boots off cleanly somewhere near.

You took the time being to ready yourself, slipping a finger on each side of the waistband of your panties before pulling down. The cute, patterned garment pooled by your ankles before you could pry them off with your finger, tossing the pair safely in the cup holder by the door so you wouldn’t lose it. Or rather so it wouldn’t get stolen, god knows how many pairs you’d lost ever since your altercation with a certain bulky brit.

You faced away from Simon, only aware of his approach once his shadow loomed over you. His hands gripped your hips in desperation, by surprise as it had you silently gasping.

“Gotta prep you?” he muttered before pulling you flushed against him. You could feel the seam of his jeans by your lower thighs, meaning that he’d had the time to pull them further down, but high enough to pull back up in case anyone was to cross you both. A breathy whine left your throat as you felt him force a hand between the both of your bodies, hand grasping at the base of his cock to reposition himself.

You pushed yourself impossibly back into his chest, the previous question had dissipated into the air as you felt your ability to talk had been ripped from you. He wasted no time manhandling you like he wished, your left hand grabbing onto the empty space of the open window as he pushed the tip of his hard cock through the entrance of your cunt.

He assumed you didn’t need any prepping by the way you soaked his cock the second he made contact, but who was he to complain? Steadying himself, his left hand came to accompany yours across the window place, back flushed with his clothes torso, his gear digging into your flesh through the thin fabric of your dress.

The mewl that escaped you as he repositioned himself was embarrassingly needy but you needed him now, no time to wait. Simon got the memo if anything, earning you some short thrusts that made him sink further and further into your heat with every push. Feeling weak already, your hand trembled under your own weight.

He didn’t seem to mind it one bit, using his free hand to lace under you as he pushed against your chest, pulling you flushed against him once more. His strength was unmatched, he could keep himself up with only his knees for who knows how long, and you suspected that he’d worked in something more complex than the police squad for a while before switching.

It didn’t matter anyways, what did was the feeling of Simon’s hard cock now buried to the hilt inside of you. His flushed tip kissed your cervix, a delicious pain that had tears springing to the corners of your eyes. If Simon had been less hurried he’d probably kiss them away, but Ghost felt the need to be selfish today.

Slowly, the rhythm of his thrusts began picking up the pace as you felt the car rocking softly with the heavy weight of the muscular officer behind you. A hand scurrying down between your bodies, inching your dress further up your thighs so he could access whatever he wanted to, whenever he felt like it.

“F-fuck Si, just like that,” you whined, urging him to pick up the pace. His hipbone slammed devilishly onto your ass and the noise reverberated around the empty space surrounding you both. Simon was sure that anyone around a couple of kilometres could hear you moaning like it was your last day on earth, but he just couldn’t get himself to do anything about it. The deserted area left him with some peace of mind.

A sudden harsh thrust had you nearly doubling over, your hand tightening around the door as you shut your eyes closed. He pushed himself closer to your back, his head now stuffed in the crook of your neck as you drowned in the breathy groans that he was letting out. Your teeth found your bottom lip in a painful game of tug and war after Simon dropped a hand between your legs to tease at your clit. Circular motions had your vision clouding with pleasure, legs jelly under your own and Simon's weight.

“Let go darlin’, I can tell you’re tryna hold back.” He accentuated with a sharp thrust, and this time you really couldn’t hold your own body up anymore. The backseat was cramped to the point where Simon's bulky ass frame nearly caused the both of you to be squeezed off, but the proximity was enjoyable after so much time spent apart.

You felt a familiar coil knotting in your lower belly, and all it took was a couple more precise strokes from his veiny cock and a nibble to the sensitive underside of your neck for you to let go, white clouding your vision as you clenched tightly around him. The noise that the orgasm pulled out of you was so intense that you actually believed this time that people around a mile in range could’ve actually heard the echo.

One of your hands darted away from the door to latch onto Simon's arm that was still busy keeping you upright, contorting the limb in some strange way despite the cramped setting. Your legs gave out with the trembling, blissful orgasm still working wonders on your recovering state. Simon didn’t waste any time working on his own now that he’d successfully satiated you.

He allowed your body you give down, unwrapping his arm from under your torso so that your upper body rests flush against the leather seat. He pulled both hands back your hips to lift your ass up, meeting his own hips as the aggressive clash of flesh made a lustful sound that fed his cravings. His right hand dipped back down to rest above your head, but it wasn’t long before he was pushing you further into the seat.

Simon was never really a rough lover, but at that moment something had snapped deep inside of him. He fucked you like he was afraid of never getting the chance to ever do it again. He fucked you like he believed he should’ve on that last day before he left for good. His knees were digging into leather seat so harshly that you were sure it was going to leave an indent for a day and a half,

You sobbed at the overstimulating feeling of his cock repeatedly hitting the far spot inside your spent cunt over and over again, chasing the high that you’d just gotten over recently. Your tears fell upon the expensive leather of the sofa as your cries were muffled by his unrelenting pushing hand.

You could tell he was close again when his hands left you to gently grasp at your hair, moving them to one side of your neck as he stabilised his weight by placing both hands besides your head. You remembered how handsy and ‘fidgety’ he got in some way when he was close to finishing. Then there were the few last hard thrusts that had you gripping onto the edge of the sofa for dear life, pumping your cunt full of his seed with an actual guttural moan that had you clenching all over again.

You manoeuvred your body to shake your arms away from the position, biting onto your thumb to stop yourself from crying out loud with the way his short little thrusts were about to send you over the edge again. You didn’t think you could handle cuming once more without making an absolute mess of your car, further less if it was Ghost that made you finish.

Even after his movements stabilised, you could still feel the warm sensation of his spent seeping out of you in excess, pussy full and satiated for as long as it needed to be. That was new, the whole fucking without a condom thing, let alone finishing inside of you. You couldn’t say you disliked the feeling. The sensation of his raw, meaty cock inside of you was something that you could sure as hell get used to.

It felt like hours before Simon pulled out, arousal dribbling out of your tight cunt and down into your seat. You’d deal with the stains later, if anything you’d get the whole seat redone with that hard earned money that you’d made yourself while you were learning to get over the man that sat right beside you then.

It was crazy to think of how much time it had taken you to actually get over Simon leaving, abandoning you after things had seemed to actually go somewhere between the two of you. You should’ve been ashamed of yourself for giving in without even trying to fight, maybe now he thought of you as some easy thing that he could always come back to once or twice a month when he felt desperate. You knew you should have more self respect but yet a part of you can’t seem to blame Simon for the way things had gone down between you two.

Obviously you shouldn’t have gotten ahead of yourself and thought he’d reciprocate those feelings that you’d so unfortunately caught for him along the terms of your ‘no strings attached’ agreement. It wasn’t really his fault for following the terms that you’d both agreed to. Yet it hurt for a while to think that you’d fallen so hard for a man that you believed didn’t even see you further than for sex.

You heard the sound of his fly before you could even see him buckling his belt back on. The part of you who’d always thought you’d meant a little more to him was desperately hurting, but nothing you’d allow Simon to see. After all, you'd initiated what happened on that day, to get out of a ticket or not, you had no one else to blame for the humiliation that you brought upon yourself.

“Guess that’s settled then.” the blond muttered, typical awkwardness lacing his words. Your head turned at an embarrassingly fast pace when he’d even gotten to utter the first words.

“What?” Your befuddled state had Simon deadpanning, before referring to the speed ticket like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You itched the back of your neck nervously as your gaze fell to your dress, still hiked disgracefully upon your hips. Your hands fell in a quick mess to gather yourself and redress, mentally using the excuse that it was just in case somebody was to fall upon you both.

Even if you couldn’t hide to yourself the fact that Simon’s blatant gaze made you feel a certain way that you knew you shouldn’t.

“Duty calls, guess i gotta go,” with your eyes burning holes at your thighs you failed to notice the longing that clouded Simon’s iris at the administration. The silent apology for everything that he didn’t and couldn’t have given you in the past. An indescribable feeling of guilt shook his chest and he just couldn’t stand to be in the same vehicle that he’d just ruined you in for any longer.

Despite the shameful fact that he’d kinda wished you’d beg for his presence a little longer, your silence pushed him to act. A fight or flight kind of situation, like he was running from his own feelings instead. Perhaps you’d never know how Simon truly felt about you, but you did know that it took him about a minute to fully leave the scene, the sound of his heavy motor dragging about a minute before disappearing from your sight. Simon left his aching heart in the backseat beside you.

Riding 150km/h, you decided that maybe heading home would feel better than whatever destination was still etched on your map.

KEEP YOUR MW3 SPOILERS TO YOURSELF‼️ im buying the game next week.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader smut #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 x reader #simon riley angst

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wontshutup · 8 months ago

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I had this idea of a Reader x Nanami + Ex!Gojo where the reader was a single mother of Gojo's child.....just stay with me on this ok?

Nanami is grossery shopping, looking for a good sourdough in the bakery section and a small girl asks him to help her reach a cookie. White silky hair and bright blue eyes piercing into his, taking him aback with the resemblance to a certain sorcerer.

He kneels down to be at the baby girl's height"Of course little one, but where is your mother?"

As if he had been heard, your voice pierces through the ambience of the store, making his head shut up as you where calling for a name only assumed to be the girl's.

"Aiko! There you are!" The little girl runs into your arms giggling "I wanted a cookie, the nice man was going to get me one" she said as she pointed back at you.

Nanami remains frozen in place, he couldn't believe his eyes as he had you right in front of him. The two of you had been together in high school, he had the strongest crush on you when you studied in jujutsu high, however you couldn't seem to tear your eyes at the sight of Gojo Satoru, lighting up at the mention of his name as if he was your whole world, how he wished he was the reason of such joy in you and not him, giving him one more reason to hate the white-haired sorcerer.

Once graduation came around for Gojo you had reached out to confess your feelings for him, Nanami didn't really knew when or how but one day after school you were being picked by a convertible drove by none other than Gojo Satoru, he watched as he greeted you with a soft kiss on the lips and saw how you softly smiled through the gesture, he felt a pang in his chest, as if he had been shot through the heart being the instant death of a man as he buried his feelings for you along with his heart, becoming colder with you until the last day of school, looking at your hand interlaced with Gojo's as you shared a celebratory kiss. That was the last time you saw eachother.

The news of you and Gojo not being together anymore didn't go unnoticed by him, as in a meeting Mei brought it up casually as Gojo Satoru brushed away any inquiry or comment on it, actually making him struggle not to tell the man how much of an idiot he was for not holding on to you, also feeling a small spark of joy in his mind, he couldn't help but fantasize of you finally seeing through the daze he had you in, getting fed up by the strongest's antics and deciding to dump him. He had to fight against the itch to ask about you, he held himself back not wanting to inquire more, being well aware that even as exasperating as he was, Gojo Satoru was actually making it all for your privacy.

He didn't dare ask, nor look for you, he was too deep into his work now as a jujutsu sorcerer to give into a life of romance now, maybe it was better this way.

And there you were, years later, holding in your arms the carbon copy of Gojo Satoru as you gave him a wide eyed look, softening your features at the sight of a familiar face.

"Nanami! Oh my ! It's been so long!" You made your way towards him, your free arm extending up to embrace him as your baby girl looked at the both of you with curiosity.

He hugged you back, wanting to engulf you into himself, yet the presence of the little one made him pull back into reality.

"It truly has Y/N" he said looking at the girl "and who might this be?" He said nearing his face towards her, earning a shy smile from you "this is Aiko, she's mine" you gave him a sympathetic smile.

The girl analyzed your interaction with analytical eyes "Mommy who is he?" She never tore her eyes off Nanami.

"Oh, this is Nanami Kento, we used to go to High-school together" you said as he bowed his head .

"With daddy too??" She asked with a bright tone, making him feel a tight knot in his chest, so she is Satoru's, then why in the world would he leave?! That Self-obsessed prick, he felt anger starting to rise within him at the thought of the man leaving you, how dare he keep you and his child hidden?? "Yeah, with daddy too" you gave Nanami a sheepish smile, feeling a hint of shame at his wide eyed expression.

Soon enough Aiko had re-started with the insistence to get a cookie, bringing the both of you back to the moment.

"OK Aiko, just give me a second" you gave Nanami a sympathetic smile as he too tried his best to hide the turmoil of feelings he had within "It was a pleasure seeing you again Kento, we should go get a coffee sometime. Here" you handed him your phone to type his contact in, he did with a serious expression as he focuses on not shaking, he gave it back to you. "See you then" you gave him one last smile and walked away, Aiko waving frantically at him, her tiny hand saying "bye-bye" at the stunned blonde.

Aaaaand that's part one, hahaha I do have questions to answer so just wait for it please

Part 2

Thanks for reading.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #dad gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk nanami #kento nanami #satoru gojo #just bear with me ok?

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paluding · 1 year ago

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Updating... The Tattooer (ver. 3.4)!

Finally! Took me a while, huh. This is the updated version of the Tattooer project. It skips some steps, making the workflow much, much faster! Huge thanks to @applewatersugar for his suggestion on how to bake textures while preserving the transparency. This is kind of a repost of the original Tattooer post, but it actually has some new stuff and a few changes here and there, so please take a look if you want to learn how to use this new version.

This is a series of Blender template files already set up to quickly bake textures from The Sims 4 to The Sims 2. The different Blender files will allow you to: -Bake body textures from TS4 to TS2 (Female) -Bake body textures from TS4 to TS2 (Male) -Bake body textures from TS4 (Female) to TS2 (Male) -Bake body textures from TS2 (Female) to TS2 (Male) [Bonus!] -New! Bake face textures from TS4 to TS2 (Unisex) [Bonus!] -Bake head textures from TS4 to TS2 (Face + Scalp) (Unisex) [Still experimental] Check the file names to see which one is which, and the resolution of the baked texture it will give. Everything you see in the render above was 100% converted using those Blender files.

Download here! SFS / GD

Update: Version 3.4.1 (27/08/2023) Fixed some issues on the shoulders for the AF-body-4t2-1024 and AF-body-4t2-2048 templates. Now the top straps on most converted underwear/swimwear should look right.

Update: Same version (13/12/2023) As requested, added a new spanish version of the included pdf guide!

These templates were made mainly to bake and convert tattoos, but there’s more you can do with them if you get creative. I have to say, these are NOT perfect. Results may vary depending on what you are trying to convert, so! With that in mind, this is all the stuff you will be able to convert almost seamlessly from TS4 to TS2: -Tattoos. -Other body details such as body hair, scars, freckles, supernatural/occult details… -Body painted underwear and swimwear, as well as some other clothing that’s mostly painted on the body. -Socks, stockings and maybe leggings. -Even skintones! In some areas they will look weird, so I recommend editing and blending them with other existing TS2 skins. -Makeup, eyebrows and beards. In the old version this was just a proof of concept, but now I’ve added a new Face file template which gives some pretty decent results! -Hair scalps. Very useful when converting some hairs! Although keep in mind part of that texture might also need to be baked on the face mesh, you know, that hairline makeup stuff.

Got your attention? Nice! Editing some of the textures from TS4 to match the UV mapping in TS2 using a 2D editing program can be incredibly hard. That’s where texture baking in Blender comes to the rescue!

You will need to download Blender, at least version 3.4, but you could always use a newer version. It is only incompatible with versions older than 3.4. -You can download Blender for free here. -You will also need Sims 4 Studio to extract the original Sims 4 CC textures you want. In the first version of these Blender files, there was a necessary step using Photoshop, but that’s no longer needed. However, there’s still a tiny extra step which requires resizing the newly baked texture on some of the high resolution templates, so you might need a 2D editing program like Photoshop. More on that later.

So, before we begin, let’s clear out some questions you might have. What the heck is this texture baking thing and what does it do? Well, let’s imagine you have a video projector and point an image into a blank wall. Then you pick up some brushes and start painting and copying that projected image in that wall. Texture baking is kinda like that when it comes to 3D models. You align two models and match them as closely as you can in shape and form, and once you adjust some parameters and values, Blender does the rest for you: it will give you a new texture for a new model with a different UV map. These files I’m sharing have everything already set up, so it’s a matter of plopping in that Sims 4 texture and you will get that new texture for TS2 in just a few clicks.

This tutorial assumes you know literally nothing about how to use Blender, so if you feel uncomfortable with it, worry no more! This will guide you with pictures showing where you need to click and explaining what is happening. For Sims 4 Studio and Photoshop the process might be a bit less detailed, but still this should be pretty beginner friendly. For this tutorial, I will use some tattoos as an example (properly credited at the end of the post). Alright, enough with the rambling. Let’s get started!

·EXTRACTING TEXTURES IN SIMS 4 STUDIO: First things first, you will need to extract as pngs all the textures you want to convert from TS4 using Sims 4 Studio. It should be pretty straightforward. Just open the packages and export the Diffuse textures. Keep them organized in a folder for easy access.

·BAKING THE TEXTURES IN BLENDER: PRELIMINARY STEP 1: CONFIGURING BLENDER’S GRAPHICS SETTINGS: Open your preferred Blender file depending on what you’re going to bake and the desired resolution (in this example I’m going to use the AF-body-4t2-1024 file). Before we start messing around in Blender, there’s one thing you should set up. It is a onetime step, and once it’s done, you won’t need to do it again. So, does your computer have a dedicated graphics card? If you don’t know or you’re not sure, just skip to the next step. Configuring Blender so it uses your graphics card instead of your CPU will make the baking render much faster, so it is recommended you set it up correctly. If your computer has a dedicated graphics card, click File (1) > Preferences (2) > and on the window that pops up click System (3) > and select CUDA and make sure your graphics card is there and tick it (4). I have an Nvidia Graphics card but your case may vary. Once you’re done, click on the tiny button on the bottom left corner and Save Preferences (5).

PRELIMINARY STEP 2: CHOOSING THE RENDERING DEVICE: Click on the tiny camera button on the right, called Render Properties (1), and on Device (2) select GPU Compute if it’s not already selected. If you’re not sure if you have a graphics card or not, just select CPU. Then select the Material Properties tab (3) and Save your changes, either by pressing Ctrl + S, or clicking File (4) > Save (5). You might need to do this second step with the other Blender files, but once you have it done and saved, you won’t need to do this again. Okay, time to get into the good stuff!

·STEP 1: LOADING YOUR TS4 BASE TEXTURE: In the Material Properties tab, click the folder icon that says Open (1) and on the window that pops up, navigate through your folders and select your first texture. To navigate easily, the 3 buttons on the top right (2) are for the display mode. They will show your files in list mode, vertical and horizontal, and the one on the right will display the file thumbnails, pretty useful if you want to easily preview your textures here. The icons on the left side (3) will let you go one folder back and forward, go to the parent directory, and refresh the folder in case you just dropped something new in there. Double click on the image you need and that will load the texture into the Sims 4 body model, named “ts4 body”.

·STEP 2: SETTING UP YOUR SELECTION AND BAKING THE TEXTURE: On the top right of the screen, you will see the names of the 2 models in the scene. Hold the Ctrl key in your keyboard and left click on the “ts2 body” model (1). If you did it correctly, you should see “ts2 body” in a yellowish orange color, and right down below, “ts4 body” should look more like a red orange. If not, try again by clicking first on ts4 body, and then while holding Ctrl click again on ts2 body. Then switch to the Render Properties tab by clicking the tiny camera icon (2) and click Bake (3). Depending on your screen resolution, you might need to scroll down a bit with your mouse to see the Bake button. Wait a few seconds for it to finish. You will see the progress percentage down on the bottom of your screen. Don’t panic if you notice your computer fans start ramping up, that’s completely normal! As I said in the beginning, using your GPU will bake the textures much faster than the CPU.

·STEP 3: SAVING YOUR NEW TS2 TEXTURE: Once it’s finished, switch to the UV Editing Mode by clicking “UV Editing” on the top of your screen. And there it is: your new texture! You might have to scroll up your mouse wheel a bit to zoom in and see it in all its glory on the left side of the screen. We’re still not done yet though. You need to save it to yet another new folder (always try to keep your stuff organized!).

You can save it by pressing Shift + Alt + S, or clicking on Image* (1) and then Save As… (2). That will pop a window where you’ll need to navigate again and save it somewhere. Give it a proper name (3) and hit Enter to save it… well, Enter doesn’t always work for me for some reason, so if that happens just click Save As Image (4). And that’s it! You’ve successfully converted your baked texture. Congrats!

·STEP 4: GOING BACK TO STEP 1: Alright! If you’re done with your textures, you can close Blender without saving and call it a day. But let’s say you want to keep baking other swatches. In order to go back to step 1 and start the process once again, click Layout (1), go back to the Material Properties tab (2), select “ts4 body” (3) and click on the folder icon (4) to open and load your next swatch.

Then it’s just a matter of repeating the process from step 2. When you’re ready to move on, close Blender without saving. If you see a small check telling you it will save some images, make sure you uncheck it, so you will be able to use it again in the future from the starting point with no issues. I don’t think it really matters if you accidentally save your progress in these files, but I like to keep it clean and fresh so I can do the process where I left it from the beginning next time I open it. And in case you mess up and save somewhere, you can always just delete the .blend file and download the template files again.

In case you’d like a video tutorial on how to use these files, the amazing @platinumaspiration recorded this fantastic video showcasing the process! You can watch it here.

One final note: some of the baking .blend files save the textures with a resolution of 2048x2048 pixels, as clearly stated at the end of their file name. That’s way too overkill, because TS2 only properly supports up to 1024x1024 for most of its textures and you should always resize your final product to that max resolution (or lower if needed). I just made those 2048 versions because there might be some really tiny and slim details on some tattoos that might look a little too blurry when baked into a 1024 resolution texture, so for those cases use that if you want and then resize them using your 2D editing software of choice. In Photoshop, in the Resample mode of the Image Size menu, there are a few options to choose. For the fine details, I like the Nearest Neighbor (hard edges) option, which, even if it looks a bit pixelated, it still preserves most of the texture and quality.

For anything else, I would just directly bake them using the 1024 versions in Blender (512 for the face and scalp).

And for the folks who feel comfortable playing around in Blender, this is just the beginning! Texture baking opens a LOT of possibilities, so feel free to move stuff around and edit the models to your liking! If you notice the baked textures look warped or stretched somewhere, or don’t like where some textures are placed in the S2 body, poke around that area moving stuff and then give it another try. The main objective of the baking process is keeping both overlapping models as close in shape as possible. You may also edit and save new copies of the templates, or make new ones from scratch using mine as a reference (keep a close look on those Baking settings and values, I think they work pretty well) and share them if you want to. Go ham, do whatever you want with them! I still have plans on making templates to convert body textures from Sims 3 to Sims 2, but for now it’s not on my priorities, so we’ll see when that happens.

Whew! Hope none of this was too confusing. Need help or have any issues with these? Please ask/message me here and I’ll be glad to help when I’m able to!

Credits for the CC used in the render demonstration: -Skin by Sims3Melancholic. -Eyes by Northern Siberia Winds. -Eyebrows by PeachyFaerie. -Tattoos by xtc. -Top by SerenityCC. And the Tattoo I used for the tutorial can be found here, by ValhallanSim.

Last but not least, a huge thanks to all the people who somehow contributed to make this project and update possible, either by doing initial testing, finding issues to fix, or teaching me new Blender tricks to make the workflow way faster and easier. So thanks again to @elvisgrace @moyokeansimblr and @applewatersugar on Tumblr! <3

And thank you for reading! Hope you have fun playing with this (not so) new toy hehe.

#tattooer project #tattooer update #ts2 tutorial #ts2 resources #ts2 blender #ts2 overlays #ts2 texture baking #4t2 conversion tutorial #this took me so LONG to update #im really sorry for the delay :(

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