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How's retirement, Bucky? | Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Themes: Funny. Bucky trying to find things to do to kill time, while also being a menace to Y/N and the neighbours. Prequel to 'Ouch, My face.'

Summary: Bucky decides to retire and leave the super hero world behind, but now he doesn't know how to be normal citizen.

A/N: Just another scenario tha rudely popped into my head. . .

Bucky Barnes was retired.

It still felt strange, even after months of settling into a life of quiet mornings and unhurried afternoons. He had fought in wars, spent decades as an agent of chaos, and dedicated years to redemption and healing. Now, here he was—waking up whenever he pleased, making breakfast in a house that didn’t have bullet-proof glass windows or a panic room, and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day.

Today, like most others, started off simple enough: a run through the neighbourhood, a cup of coffee, and a lazy scan of the news. He’d even managed to fix the leaky faucet that had been bothering you for weeks, earning a soft kiss on the cheek as a reward.

But then… the day stretched on. There were no missions, no tactical planning, no world to save. Just the quiet ticking of the clock and the gentle hum of suburban life around him.

So, Bucky set his sights on something—or rather, someone—far more interesting: annoying you.

And thus began the saga of Bucky Barnes’ Retirement Phases.

Phase 1: The Handyman Hero Phase

Duration: One Month

Bucky started off strong, becoming the ultimate handyman of the household. Everything was fair game for improvement. Leaky faucets, creaky floorboards, wobbly shelves—if there was a screw to tighten, Bucky was on it like a well-oiled machine.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you asked one morning, sipping your coffee as you watched him carefully measuring the distance between each picture frame on the living room wall.

“Making sure they’re exactly one inch apart,” he said without looking up, his voice deadly serious.

“Why?”

“Because last night, I noticed this one—” he pointed to a frame on the far left “—was slightly off-center, and it’s been bothering me ever since.”

You blinked. “Bucky, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Y/N. It’s one and a quarter inch apart. Do you know what happens when things aren’t balanced?” He gave you a haunted look, as if you’d just suggested destabilizing the world order.

“Chaos,” you muttered.

“Exactly.”

Within weeks, Bucky had rebuilt half the house, repainted the walls (twice), and installed a state-of-the-art security system that even Tony Stark would envy. You came home one day to find the couch moved three inches to the left, the coffee table completely gone (“I dismantled it; we don’t need it”), and Bucky seriously contemplating whether the kitchen would look better with marble or granite countertops.

“Bucky,” you said slowly, trying to remain calm, “I’m begging you—stop fixing things.”

He blinked at you. “What do you want me to do then?”

You panicked. “Anything. Just—find a hobby!”

He gave a solemn nod, as if you’d just entrusted him with a new mission. “Okay. A hobby. Got it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. If only you’d known what was coming next.

Phase 2: The Google Scholar Phase

Duration: Two Weeks

With his newfound free time, Bucky discovered the internet. And when Bucky Barnes discovers the internet, chaos ensues.

It started innocently enough. You’d come home to find him glued to his laptop, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What are you doing?” you asked, setting down your bag.

“Research,” he said ominously, fingers flying over the keys.

“Research on… what?”

He glanced up, his eyes wide. “Did you know sharks have been around longer than trees?”

“Uh—”

“And that banana slugs can grow up to 9 inches long?” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a whole website dedicated to weird animal facts. I’ve been reading for hours.”

And so, you were subjected to two weeks of nonstop trivia.

“Hey, Y/N!” he’d shout from the kitchen. “Did you know an octopus has three hearts?”

Or: “Did you know cows have best friends?”

And: “Do you want to hear about the deepest point in the ocean?”

“Not really—”

“It’s called the Mariana Trench, and it’s seven miles down!”

You tried banning Wikipedia, but he just switched to obscure forums. You blocked YouTube, and he found a random chicken fact blog. The worst part? He’d share his newfound knowledge with anyone who’d listen.

“I’m calling Sam,” you muttered one evening after hearing Bucky recite the entire history of the humble potato to the mailman. “You need social intervention.”

Phase 3: The Home Décor Perfectionist Phase

Duration: Two Exasperating Weeks

Denied access to his newfound internet pursuits, Bucky turned to interior design. You were caught off guard one Saturday morning when he asked, “What do you think of paisley?”

“What’s a paisley?”

“Pattern. I’m thinking of reupholstering the couch.”

“Bucky, no—”

Too late. Within days, every room was a different colour. You came home to find polka-dotted curtains in the bathroom, and he’d somehow managed to install a chandelier in the laundry room.

“Bucky, why is there a 10-foot mirror in the hallway?”

“It makes the space feel bigger.”

“Bucky, this is a two-bedroom house!”

He paused, squinting at the living room wall. “I think the polka dots need to go.”

You nearly wept with relief when he announced he was moving on to the garden.

Phase 4: The Amateur Detective Phase

Duration: One Overly Suspicious Month

After redecorating the entire house, Bucky set his sights on the neighborhood.

“Y/N, did you see that guy across the street?” he whispered one morning, peering through the blinds with a pair of binoculars.

“That’s Mr. Henderson. He’s eighty-five.”

“Yeah, and he’s up to something. No one goes to the mailbox that often.”

“Maybe he likes getting his mail?”

“I’m telling you, something’s not right.” He tapped the binoculars. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

And so began Operation: Neighborhood Watch. Every delivery truck was scrutinised. Every dog walker received a full background check. The poor Girl Scouts who came to sell cookies left looking slightly shell-shocked.

The Girl Scout Incident: When Bucky Barnes Met Thin Mints

The Girl Scout incident started out innocent enough—just a kid selling cookies to the neighborhood. But when Bucky Barnes answered the door, things took a turn.

It was a sunny Saturday morning. You were in the kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when you heard the doorbell ring. Before you could even get up to check, Bucky’s voice echoed from the living room.

“I got it!” he called out, already making his way to the front door.

Curious, you peeked around the corner just in time to see him open it. Standing on the porch was a sweet-looking little girl, no more than nine or ten, decked out in her green uniform, clutching a clipboard and flashing a bright, eager smile.

“Hi, mister!” she chirped, clearly undeterred by the stern look on Bucky’s face. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies today?”

You watched as Bucky’s expression softened just a bit, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Cookies?” he repeated, as if she’d just offered him nuclear launch codes.

“Yep!” She held up a laminated chart with pictures of the various cookies, pointing to each one with a tiny, rainbow-colored pen. “We have Thin Mints, Tagalongs, Samoas—uh, I mean, Caramel deLites—”

He squinted at the chart, clearly trying to make sense of it all. “Why would you need to sell cookies?”

You nearly face-palmed. Oh no.

The girl’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “It’s a fundraiser! To support our troop activities and trips.”

“Fundraiser?” Bucky’s voice dropped suspiciously. “Who’s your troop leader?”

The girl blinked, a little taken aback. “Uh, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Uh-huh. And how many boxes of these so-called ‘cookies’ are you supposed to sell?”

Her smile wavered just a fraction. “Um, as many as possible?”

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “And where does all this money go?”

“Bucky—” you tried to interrupt, stepping forward, but he held up a hand without looking back, eyes still locked on the bewildered Girl Scout.

“It goes to our troop!” she answered nervously, glancing down at her clipboard as if for reassurance. “For badges and supplies and—”

“Supplies,” Bucky echoed, his tone suddenly sharp. “What kind of supplies?”

“Uh… arts and crafts…?” she stammered, clearly starting to get uncomfortable.

“Arts and crafts?” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Or something else?”

You saw the poor girl’s eyes widen, her grip tightening on her clipboard as if she was contemplating using it as a shield.

“Bucky, stop,” you hissed, stepping forward to intervene. But he was on a roll now.

“Who gets the money, huh?” He narrowed his eyes, peering down at her like she was an enemy combatant. “Do you get it?

“Or does it go to some mysterious ‘troop leader’ who’s hiding behind a desk somewhere, raking in profits from innocent cookie sales?”

“M-Mister, it’s just cookies,” she squeaked, glancing nervously at the boxes stacked beside her. “We just wanna go camping this summer.”

“Camping?” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “And what kind of ‘camping’ are we talking about here? Deep-woods recon training? SERE training?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.

“Bucky, she’s nine!” you practically shouted, rushing over to save the poor child from what was rapidly escalating into a full-blown interrogation.

“But Y/N, this could be—”

“It’s not a conspiracy, Bucky!” you snapped, turning to the girl and giving her what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Sweetie, how much for a box of Thin Mints?”

“Uh… f-five dollars?” she stammered, still eyeing Bucky like he might suddenly sprout fangs.

You reached for your wallet, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and handing it to her. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” she squeaked, stuffing the money into her pouch with trembling hands.

You shot Bucky a glare. “Apologize.”

He crossed his arms, looking mulish. “But—”

“Bucky.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Uh… sorry… for, um… asking about your troop leader and, uh… the money laundering?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly not following.

“Bucky!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.

“I mean, sorry for… for… being weird,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The girl gave a hesitant nod, glancing back at her stack of cookies. “Um… would you like another box, mister?”

Bucky frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe. Which one’s the best?”

“Bucky—” you started, but he was already leaning down, listening intently as the girl launched into a detailed explanation of the flavour profiles of Samoas versus Tagalongs.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky was the proud owner of a dozen boxes of Girl Scout cookies, which the girl somehow managed to upsell him into buying. The look of relief on her face as she walked away was palpable.

You turned to Bucky, hands on your hips. “Really, Buck?”

“What?” he said defensively, clutching his armful of cookies. “I needed to make sure it was legit!”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why we now have enough cookies to feed an army?”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I guess I got carried away.”

“Just… try not to scare any more children, okay?”

“Hey, I was just being thorough,” he muttered, glancing down at the boxes. “Besides… these ‘Samoas’ are actually pretty good.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Because only Bucky Barnes could turn a simple cookie sale into a full-scale interrogation—and then end up buying out the entire stock.

“Whatever you say, Bucky. Whatever you say.”

He gave you a sheepish grin, holding up a box of Thin Mints. “Want one?”

“Sure,” you sighed, reaching out to grab a cookie. Because, at the end of the day, this was Bucky Barnes: ex-assassin, super-soldier, and now… terrifyingly dedicated Girl Scout cookie connoisseur.

The Girl Scout incident, unfortunately, didn’t mark the end of Bucky’s neighbourhood watch endeavours.

“Hey, Y/N, that’s the third day in a row Mrs. Higginson has gone jogging past our house,” Bucky muttered a few days later, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

You glanced over from your spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-huh,” you replied absently, already wondering if now would be a good time to text Steve for a little ‘rescue mission.’ “Maybe she likes jogging?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not natural. It’s a cover for something. Probably espionage.”

“Bucky, she’s seventy.”

“Exactly. No one that age moves like that. She’s gotta be a retired agent.”

“Or she’s trying to stay in shape?”

“Or she’s spying on us.” He narrowed his eyes, peering through the blinds. “Maybe she’s HYDRA.”

“Bucky, she brought us homemade banana bread last week.”

“Which tasted suspiciously good,” he muttered darkly, tapping his pen against his chin. “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

It didn’t stop there. He began obsessively tracking patterns—when neighbors took out their trash, when they left for work, who picked up their mail first thing in the morning. His conspiracy board rivaled the one you’d seen at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, complete with photos, string, and a suspiciously large map of the neighborhood.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

You blinked, looking up from your book. “What’s up, Buck?”

He leaned in, his voice low and serious. “Did you know Mrs. Patterson’s dog peed on our lawn three times this week?”

“I—what?”

“And Mr. Thompson left his house twice yesterday. Twice.”

“…is that a crime?”

“Yes. Who leaves the house twice in one day? He’s clearly up to something.”

“Like… groceries?”

Bucky frowned. “No. Something bigger. I saw him walking to his car, get this—without any bags.”

“Maybe he forgot something?”

He shook his head, eyes narrowed. “It’s a diversion tactic. I’m keeping a close watch on him.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re stalking the neighbours.”

“Of course not!” He paused. “I’m… observing. For science.”

“For science?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Buck. I’m putting my foot down,” you finally managed. “You need to stop this. The neighbours think we’re crazy. You’re scaring the kids and… the mailman won’t come to the door anymore.”

Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

“Because you interrogated him about his route last week!”

“He was being shady!”

“He’s a mailman!”

There was a long pause as you stared each other down, Bucky looking defiant and you looking exhausted. Finally, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“Buck… I know retirement is hard. But you need a new outlet. Maybe something a little less—”

“Paranoid?” he offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. And a little less terrifying for the neighbours.”

He sighed deeply, like you’d just asked him to hang up his shield all over again. “I was just… trying to be useful.”

Your heart softened immediately. Because that was what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? The man who’d spent his life fighting wars and doing battle against his own mind was now left trying to figure out how to fit into a world that no longer needed him to save it.

You walked over, placing your hands on his shoulders and giving him a soft smile. “You’re always useful, Buck. Even if you’re not interrogating the mailman about federal postal regulations or… spying on seventy-year-old retirees.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, huh?”

“A little,” you agreed with a grin. “Maybe you should find something else to watch over.”

“Like what?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You bit your lip, thinking. “I don’t know… Maybe get a pet? You could… I don’t know, babysit a cat or something.”

Bucky blinked at you. Then his eyes lit up like you’d just handed him the Holy Grail of retirement activities.

“A cat,” he murmured slowly, as if testing the word. “A cat.”

“Yes, a cat,” you repeated cautiously, wondering if you’d just unleashed some new kind of havoc on the house. “You could train it to… I don’t know, not scratch the furniture or something.”

“Or… I could train it to keep an eye on the pigeons,” he muttered to himself, looking thoughtful.

“Wait, what?”

But Bucky had already gone inside, the gears in his mind clearly turning. You shook your head, deciding to let him have this one. After all, how much trouble could he really get into with a cat?

Phase 5: The Pet Phase (aka Operation: Find a Feline Friend)

Duration: Ongoing, with Fur Everywhere

You didn’t think he’d take it seriously. Until you came home the next day to find Bucky sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, a small, white ball of fluff curled up in his lap.

“This is Alpine,” he announced proudly.

You stared at the kitten, then at Bucky, then back at the kitten. “Bucky, what… why…?”

“You said get a pet,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I did.”

And that’s how Alpine, the grumpy old woman in a cat’s body, became part of your household. Bucky spent weeks trying to train him (“Sit, Alpine! Sit! … Okay, fine, just glare at me, that works too.”), set up elaborate obstacle courses (“Alpine, jump! No, don’t walk away—okay, you know what, just do your thing”), and spoiled her rotten with toys and treats.

With each phase, Bucky’s retirement became a new adventure. And while it drove you absolutely crazy at times, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Bucky lying on the couch, Alpine curled up on his chest, both looking completely content.

“Retirement isn’t so bad, huh?” you teased one evening, curling up beside him.

He hummed thoughtfully, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “I don’t know… I think I could use a new project.”

You groaned, but your groan turned into a laugh when he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh no,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “No more projects, Barnes. You’ve nearly redecorated us out of house and home, scared the mailman half to death, and—”

“Don’t forget the gourmet cookies,” he interjected with a cheeky smile.

You shot him a playful glare. “I’m trying to forget the cookies, thank you.”

“Aw, come on. I think I finally got the recipe down. I’ll just try one more—”

“No!” you practically shouted, your voice echoing through the living room. Alpine, unbothered, merely lifted her head, gave you both a disinterested look, and went back to napping.

Bucky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No more cookies. No more redecorating. No more… scaring the Girl Scouts.”

“Or spying on the neighbors.”

“Or spying on the neighbors,” he agreed, still looking a little too amused for your liking.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch and resting your head on his shoulder. “You know, most people take up hobbies like gardening or painting in retirement.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but those aren’t as exciting.”

“They’re not supposed to be exciting. They’re supposed to be calm. That’s the whole point of retirement, Buck.”

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening. “You really think I’m the ‘calm’ type, doll?”

You snorted. “No, not really. But it would be nice if, just once, I didn’t come home to find you plotting to build a moat around the house.”

“Moats are an excellent defense mechanism,” he said matter-of-factly. “But okay, I get it. I’ll tone it down.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You promise?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his right hand. The glint in his eye, however, told you he was already planning something new.

“Bucky…”

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not for a second.”

He chuckled, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Alright, no more projects. I’ll just focus on Alpine. She’s a full-time job anyway.”

You glanced at the cat, who was now sprawled out like she owned the place. “You’ve turned her into a diva, you know.”

“He’s just refined,” Bucky said defensively. “He’s got standards.”

“Uh-huh. Like the way he refuses to eat unless you hand-feed her?”

“Refined,” Bucky insisted.

“And how she sleeps on your side of the bed and shoves you off with her tiny, evil paws?”

“Selective.”

“And how she sits on the counter staring at you like she’s plotting your demise?”

“Observant.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’ve created a monster, Bucky.”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug, smirking down at you. “I’ve handled worse monsters. She’s a good one. Besides,” he added, scratching Alpine’s head fondly, “she’s family.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, content in the peaceful moment.

Then Bucky cleared his throat, and you glanced up to see him shifting slightly, like he was working up the nerve to say something.

“So… I was thinking…” he began slowly.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he said quickly, raising his hands as if to ward off your incoming refusal. “What if we… I dunno… made a baby?”

You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“A baby,” he repeated, his voice steady, though there was a telltale blush creeping up his neck. “You know, a little human—our human. Someone we can train to take over the world… or at least keep me entertained.”

Your jaw dropped open. “You want to have a baby—because you’re bored?”

Bucky gave you a sheepish grin. “I mean, I was thinking it could be a good project… long-term investment… future troublemaker…”

“Bucky,” you interrupted, placing your hands on his shoulders and staring at him, bewildered. “Are you seriously suggesting having a child like it’s another DIY project?”

He shrugged, looking as nonchalant as ever, but his eyes were soft and serious. “Maybe. But I was also thinking it’d be nice to have something, or someone, that’s just… ours. A mix of you and me. Something that isn’t tied to the past, or fighting, or… all the other stuff.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your mind around the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “You really want a baby, Bucky?”

He nodded slowly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t get me wrong, Alpine’s great and all, but…” He sighed, his smile turning tender. “I just think it’d be amazing to have something more. I’ve spent so much of my life taking orders or fighting ghosts. But starting a family with you? That’s something I get to build. Something that’s ours.”

You bit your lip, heart swelling at his words. Despite the completely unromantic way he’d suggested it, there was sincerity in his gaze, a yearning for something deeper than fixing leaky faucets or buying out the Girl Scouts’ entire cookie stock.

“And you think you’d be a good dad?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” he scoffed, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’d be the best damn dad. I’d teach our kid how to throw a proper punch by age five, dismantle a toaster by six—”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So, what you’re saying is… you want to raise a tiny super-soldier?”

His grin widened. “Hell yeah.”

“Bucky, we are not turning our child into a mini-Winter Soldier.”

He pouted dramatically. “Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit,” you affirmed with a chuckle. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. “But… maybe we could talk about it. You know, actually talk. Not just… plan a tactical baby mission.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he brushed his thumb along your cheek. “Yeah. We can talk about it.” He paused, then added with a mischievous glint, “After we practice a little more.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh my God, Bucky.”

“What?” he asked innocently, his grin widening. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Yeah,” you whispered when he pulled away, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I do.”

You glanced down at Alpine, who was still sprawled across Bucky’s lap, looking utterly uninterested in the conversation. A baby. You hadn’t really thought about it seriously before, but now that Bucky had put the idea in your head… you couldn’t help but wonder.

There was a brief pause as Bucky gazed at you, his expression growing thoughtful. “You know,” he began quietly, “after that whole Girl Scout cookie fiasco… I kinda started thinking… I’d really like to have a daughter.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “A daughter?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “That kid was just so… brave, you know? Standing there, staring me down even though I was being a total idiot. It reminded me of you—fierce and unafraid. I couldn’t stop thinking… what if we had a daughter like that? Strong, smart, and completely capable of putting me in my place when I get out of line.”

You felt your heart clench at his words, his quiet admission making your chest ache. “You want a little girl because she’d keep you in check?”

“That,” he said, smiling softly, “and I think I’d like the challenge. I’ve spent so much of my life dealing with people who only saw me as a weapon. I just… want to prove that I can be something else. That I can be gentle… and kind… and love someone unconditionally. The way I love you.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently. “Bucky, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I know,” he murmured, his gaze warm and intense. “But I still want to try. And I want to be the kind of dad who isn’t just a protector, but a friend. Someone who’d sit through endless tea parties and help her build pillow forts… and buy all the Girl Scout cookies she wants without scaring anyone.”

You laughed softly, tears stinging your eyes at the picture he painted. “You’d be a great dad, Bucky.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

There was another beat of silence before Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “So… when do we start?”

You felt your cheeks heat, a mix of laughter and surprise bubbling up in your chest. “Bucky!”

“What?” he asked, his smile as innocent as ever. “I’m just asking. I mean, you know I’m a man of action. Gotta have a timeline.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands as Bucky laughed softly, his arms wrapping around you.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “No rush. We’ll take it one day at a time, sweetheart. But just know… I’m ready whenever you are.”

And somehow, you knew this next phase—whatever it looked like—was going to be the best one yet.

× × × ×

Ten months later

The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the nursery in a warm, golden hue, casting gentle shadows on the pale blue walls. The room was still, save for the quiet creak of the rocking chair as Bucky swayed back and forth, holding the tiniest bundle of joy in his strong, yet tender arms.

His daughter, barely a week old, was nestled against his chest, her small, delicate breaths in sync with the steady rhythm of his own. Her tiny fist curled around the fabric of his shirt, as if she knew just how safe and loved she was in her daddy's arms.

Bucky hummed quietly, the familiar melody of an old lullaby drifting into the air. It was a song his mother used to sing to him when he was no older than his sweet little girl was now. The words came softly, almost whispered, as if they were sacred—meant only for his daughter.

“Darling, you're my bloodYou have my heartbeatYou have my heartbeat, beating loud,”

His voice was gruff, yet softened by emotion as he sang, the gentle rocking lulling his daughter further into her peaceful slumber. His fingers brushed through her soft, downy hair as he looked down at her with nothing short of awe. How had he, of all people, gotten so lucky?

He had been through so much darkness in his life—seen and done things he would never be able to forget—but here, in this quiet moment, everything seemed to fade away. The world outside could wait. Right now, his whole universe was cradled in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes felt at peace.

Unbeknownst to him, you stood at the door, your heart swelling at the sight before you. You had come to check on them both, worried that Bucky might need help with the baby. But when you saw him there, rocking your little girl and singing so sweetly, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the doorframe, content to watch the love of your life in this vulnerable, beautiful moment.

Bucky was a natural, even if he didn’t believe it. You had seen the worry in his eyes when you first brought your daughter home—the fear that he wouldn’t be good enough, that he wouldn’t know what to do. But here he was, proving himself wrong in the most heart-melting way possible.

The lullaby continued, each note filled with so much love it made your eyes mist over.

"You are my lighthouseA peak of light from the dark cloudsI've lived under my whole life. . .And there's nothing I won't do for you."

Bucky’s voice cracked just a little on the last line, overcome with emotion as he gazed down at his daughter and carefully wiped his tears away.

She had his eyes—bright and full of wonder, even when they were closed in slumber. He couldn’t help but trace the delicate features of her face with his gaze, committing every tiny detail to memory.

Finally, you couldn’t resist any longer. You stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to startle him. Bucky looked up, surprise flickering across his face when he saw you standing there. His expression softened when he realised you had been watching him.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his voice low so as not to wake the baby.

“Long enough,” you replied, your smile widening as you walked over to him.

Bucky blushed, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not exactly a professional.”

“I beg to differ, I think you’re the best dad in the world.” you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple.

Bucky’s heart swelled at your words. He never imagined he would be here—sitting in a nursery, holding his newborn daughter while the love of his life stood beside him, calling him the best dad in the world. It still felt like a dream.

“She’s so small,” he murmured, looking back down at the baby. “So fragile. I didn’t think…I didn’t think I could love someone I barely knew this much.”

Your hand gently rested on his shoulder as you gazed down at your daughter. “You’ve got a big heart, James. I always knew you’d be amazing as a father.”

He glanced up at you, eyes soft and full of affection. “You’re the amazing one.”

You reached out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek, and Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling more complete than he ever thought possible.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family. A reason to feel…whole again.”

You knelt down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it, Bucky. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Bucky kissed the top of youe head, holding you close as he continued to rock your daughter. The world outside could be chaotic and unforgiving, but in this room, in this moment, everything was perfect.

× × × ×

Baby at six months

The house was peaceful, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow through the windows. You were out running errands, leaving Bucky home with their now six-month-old daughter, who was currently kicking her chubby little legs and babbling on her playmat. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she reached for her favorite stuffed bear, the one Bucky had given her the day she was born.

Bucky sat beside her, legs crossed, watching her every move like she was the most fascinating thing on the planet. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“You know, blossom,” he began, glancing over his shoulder dramatically as if checking to make sure Y/N wasn’t around. “Your mom thinks she’s the boss.”

Their daughter let out a high-pitched squeal, and Bucky grinned.

“Right? Can you believe it?” he continued, keeping his voice low as if sharing the biggest secret in the world. “She thinks she’s in charge around here. But between you and me, we know the truth.”

His little girl giggled again, her tiny hands grasping at the air as if she was agreeing with him.

“See, you and I?” Bucky said, tapping his finger gently on her nose, “We’re a team. We know how to get things done. I mean, just look at us—surviving nap time, figuring out how to stack those weird little ring toys, and we don’t even need to look at the instructions. Meanwhile, your mom still thinks I can’t fold laundry properly.”

He paused for dramatic effect, raising his brows. “Can you believe that? Laundry. I fought in World War II, and she’s worried I’ll mess up the towels.”

His daughter let out a delighted shriek, her little legs kicking excitedly. Bucky reached over and tickled her belly gently, making her burst into even more giggles.

“Oh, yeah, I know you think it’s funny,” Bucky chuckled. “But trust me, your mom’s got some pretty high laundry standards. I tried to fold one towel, just one, and she came over with this look like I’d committed a crime. 'Bucky, that’s not how you fold them!' she said. And I’m standing there like, ‘It’s a towel, not a top-secret mission.’”

He leaned in closer, as if telling her something top-secret. “She doesn’t know this, but I might’ve folded them wrong on purpose so I wouldn’t have to do it anymore.”

His daughter cooed, her tiny hand reaching out to grab his finger, which she promptly brought to her mouth to chew on. Bucky let her, his heart melting at the sight. She was his little sidekick, always hanging on his every word, even if she didn’t fully understand yet.

“And don’t even get me started on the bedtime routine,” Bucky continued, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Your mom’s got this whole plan—bath, story, lights out. Meanwhile, you and me? We’ve got a better plan. We chill, we rock, maybe sing a little. You get all cozy, and bam—out like a light.”

“Bababababa,” His daughter babbled something back at him, her little voice full of enthusiasm, and Bucky nodded seriously.

“Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. We’ve got this figured out.”

He scooped her up from the mat and held her close, her head resting comfortably against his chest as he walked them over to the couch. He sat down, cradling her in his arms, and continued his lighthearted rant.

“And the thing is, she’s always right, which drives me crazy. Like, the other day, she told me you were gonna try to crawl soon. I thought, ‘Nah, she’s too young.’ But then what happens? Two days later, you’re scooting around like you’ve got places to be. I swear, your mom’s a psychic or something.”

Bucky gazed down at his daughter, who was now looking up at him with those wide blue eyes that never failed to melt his heart. She let out a happy gurgle, and Bucky chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“You know I’m just kidding, right? Your mom’s the best. She takes care of both of us.” He sighed, feeling a rush of affection as he thought about Y/N. “Don’t tell her, but I’m pretty lucky to have her. She keeps me in line.”

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and Bucky’s head shot up in mock panic.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered to his daughter, his eyes wide with exaggerated worry. “The boss is back. Don’t say anything.”

You appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow as you saw Bucky and the baby cozied up on the couch. “What are you two up to?” you asked, a knowing smile on your lips.

Bucky gave you his most innocent look, bouncing your daughter gently in his arms. “Oh, nothing. Just hanging out with my best girl here. Right, darling?”

The baby let out a little squeal, clearly delighted by the attention.

“Mmhmm,” You said, stepping closer and giving Bucky a playful look. “You haven’t been filling her head with nonsense, have you?”

“Me? Never,” Bucky replied, trying to keep a straight face. “We were just talking about how great you are. Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

Bianca, oblivious to the conversation, giggled and reached for you, and took her from Bucky’s arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, if she grows up thinking she’s in charge, I’ll know who to blame,” You teased, casting a glance at Bucky.

He grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Hey, she’s gotta learn from the best.”

You smiled, shaking your head in mock defeat. “You’re lucky she likes you so much.”

Bucky stood and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both looked down at your little girl, now happily nestled between you. “I’m lucky to have both of you,” he murmured softly, kissing the side of your head.

And in that moment, with his two favorite girls in his arms, Bucky couldn’t imagine a better kind of luck.

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luxcuriousao3 · 2 months ago

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Not-So-Creepy Landlord!König Part Three

Masterlist

Warnings: none Notes: he baby WC: 843

Your landlord was odd.

That wasn’t news—you’d known from the second you met him that he was a grade A weirdo—but what was news was that he was also strangely… sweet?

You supposed he had always been sweet—he had started helping you with your groceries after only a few weeks of you living there, after all—but you hadn’t noticed, too busy thinking he was plotting your murder.

(You weren’t yet entirely convinced that he wasn’t. Just… mostly convinced. Enough to let your guard down a little bit more.)

But it was hard not to see it, once your eyes had been opened. His awkward attempts at conversation, when he told you little bits about his childhood in the apartment where you now lived, were less offputting, and more endearing. The way he pretended to be sweeping the lobby so he could carry your groceries to your door was no longer creepy, but kind. And the grin he gave you when he sat down at your too-small table as you poured him a glass of lemonade was honestly kind of adorable, despite the gruesome scars twisting the expression of joy into something straight out of a horror film. The happiness just radiated off him, his massive form folded and squished and hunched over to fit into the chair. He did it with ease, and you wondered how long it had been since he’d fit in one.

It was the third time you’d let him into your apartment to put your groceries away, the little routine the two of you had established finding a permanent place in your schedule. You expected him to wait at your door instead of running off, now, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager for his reward. He was a little like a dog, in that way. A huge, scary-looking, stray that just wanted to be told he was a good boy.

You’d always liked dogs. Especially the big ones.

“I planted lilies in the garden,” König said as he drank lemonade. “Did you see?”

“I did,” you answered, leaning against the counter. “They look beautiful. Lilies are my favorite, you know.”

“I know,” König said earnestly, looking very proud of himself. “You told me before, when I gave you a tour of the apartment.”

“And you remembered?” You asked, surprised and more than a little touched.

“Ja,” he replied, nodding. He went to take another sip of his lemonade, but then frowned down at the cup when it came up empty. “I remember everything you say.”

And… that was kind of weird, but again, also weirdly sweet.

“Do you want more?” You offered, and König looked up at you, blinking those perpetually sad, perpetually big blue eyes at you. If you stared at them too long, you started getting the urge to wrap him up in a blanket and give him hot chocolate. It was unnerving.

“You usually shoo me away as soon as I finish,” he pointed out, and you coughed in embarrassment, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Well, I can certainly do that, if you want—” you started, only for König’s eyes to widen as he shook his head rapidly.

“Nein! Nein. I would like some more, please,” he answered quickly, holding out his glass to you. You huffed, half annoyed, half amused, and refilled it before giving it back. He smiled shyly at you. “Danke.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in reply, then turned towards your sink and made a face at the pile of dishes that had accumulated. Not having a dishwasher was turning out to be quite the adjustment.

“Is something wrong, Ma— Fraulein?” König asked, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a furrow between his red brows. You waved a hand at him dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning on the faucet and starting to tackle Mount Dishware. “Just not a fan of doing dishes by hand, is all.”

König was quiet for so long, you almost forgot he was there. By the time he spoke up again, you were already halfway done.

“I have ordered a dishwasher,” he declared, and you nearly dropped the plate you were holding in your shock. “Someone will come to install it in three days.”

“Wait, what?” You stuttered, clutching your chest with a soapy hand as you waited for your heart to stop racing. For such a big guy, König could be worryingly silent.

“The dishwasher will get here tomorrow. I chose overnight shipping. But I could not get someone out here until Thursday.” König’s shoulders were hunched, his chin tucked to his chest. “I am sorry, M— Fraulein. I will do your dishes for you until then.”

“What— I don’t have the money to buy a dishwasher!” You replied, a tad hysteric. “Or pay for its installation!”

König’s frown deepened, and he tilted his head to the side a little, like a confused puppy.

“You did not buy it,” he said. “I bought it. Just now.”

You gaped at him, wide eyed and speechless.

Yeah. Your landlord was so odd.

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rheeblogs · 6 months ago

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★ — HELP WANTED

★ — pairing : canon/contractor!abby anderson x fem!reader

★ — as a new homeowner, paying full price to get a remodel on things was so expensive. luckily abby anderson gave pretty faces major discounts.

★ — warnings : sexual content

🔖 : @thaatdigitaldiary @d3arapril @rosemariiaa @ashortyluvsports

you weren’t much of a handyman—or handywoman, for that matter. when you moved into your new house, you quickly realized that the charm of its old bones came with a laundry list of things that needed fixing: a leaky faucet, creaky doors, shelves that threatened to collapse if you so much as looked at them.

that’s how you met abby anderson.

the first time you saw her, she was unloading a truck across the street, all lean muscles and work boots, her blonde braid sticking out from under a baseball cap. you didn’t think much of it at first, too busy trying to wrestle a box through your own front door. but when you dropped it with a loud thud, she appeared out of nowhere.

“you need a hand?”

her voice was warm, slightly teasing, and when you looked up, you were momentarily struck by her presence. abby was… well, extremely beautiful. sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, and a crooked smile that could melt steel.

——

after helping you with the box, abby quickly learned about your diy incompetence.

“so,” she said a few days later, leaning against the doorframe as you struggled to fix a curtain rod. “you always this good with tools, or am i just special enough to witness it?”

you turned, rolling your eyes at her smirk. “yeah, yeah, laugh it up. at least i’m trying.”

she chuckled, her gaze dropping to the small pile of mismatched screws and nails at your feet. “tell you what—how about i come by this weekend and help you out? i’m pretty handy, if i do say so myself.”

you hesitated, but the truth was you needed the help. “are you sure? i don’t wanna intrude.”

“darlin’,” she said, stepping closer and giving you a lopsided grin. “it’d be my pleasure.”

——

that sunday, abby showed up in a tank top and work pants, a toolbox slung over one shoulder. she whistled low when you opened the door.

“well, look at you,” she said, her eyes dragging over the black cropped tank you had on, showing off the bold tattoo on your right shoulder. “you dress up for me?”

you blushed, shaking your head. “you wish.”

“maybe i do,” she replied, her voice dropping slightly as she brushed past you, her shoulder grazing yours.

the day passed with abby fixing things at lightning speed while you hovered nearby, asking questions and offering her water or snacks. she made it impossible to concentrate, the way her muscles flexed when she tightened screws or hammered nails.

at one point, she caught you staring.

“enjoyin’ the view, ma’am?” she asked, smirking as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

you stammered, “i—i was just tryna’ make sure you were doin’ it right, that’s all.”

“uh-huh.” she leaned closer, her voice dipping into something more intimate. “if you’ve got any other… inspections in mind, let me know.”

your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face.

——

by the time the sun set, abby had fixed more in one day than you thought possible. the two of you were sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by tools and scraps, laughing about the crooked shelf you had tried to install before she arrived.

“i can’t believe you thought duct tape would hold that up,” she teased, nudging you with her knee.

“look, desperate times, desperate measures,” you defended, shaking your head. “besides, you’re the expert. that’s why i have you now.”

her smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing faded. “yeah,” she said quietly. “you do.”

the air between you shifted, tension crackling like a live wire. abby’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt your breath catch.

“i—“ you started, but the words got stuck in your throat when abby reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“you’re something else, y’know that?” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “been drivin’ me crazy all day.”

your heart hammered in your chest. “abby…”

“tell me to stop,” she said, her forehead nearly touching yours now. “i will. just say the word.”

instead of answering, you closed the gap, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that was so soft at first but quickly deepened. abby’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as the tension of the day finally snapped.

when you pulled back, breathless, she smirked. “so… does this mean i’m gettin’ that ‘thank-you’ dinner you promised?”

you laughed, tugging her back in. “dinner can wait.”

——

abby had you sprawled against your bed, the same bed that she fixed hours earlier. your bra was thrown across the room, landing on the vanity she just remodeled.

“fuckin’ beautiful, i fuckin’ knew it,” she says, looking at you like prey, and you can feel yourself salivating at the way her muscles bulge when she manhandles you. “spread those legs, sweetheart, lemme’ see you.”

you spread yourself to abby’s liking, your pants and panties discarded on your rug, leaving you fully bare in front of your next-door-neighbor.

her mouth damn near waters at the sight, your folds glistening in slick, simply because she talks to you nice. abby eats that shit up, making sure the neighborhood knows she does this to you.

“let me in, baby.” she says, as her fingers start pumping in and out of your pussy, the squelching noise driving her batshit crazy. she’s on top of you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “pussy’s talkin’ to me, isn’t she?” she says, inserting another finger inside of you.

“shitttt, abby, don’t talk like that.” you whimper, causing abby’s pace to speed up when she hits that sweet spot inside of you, causing your moans to grow louder and louder.

“shh… gotta be quiet sweetheart, you just got here—you want the neighbors to know my name already?” she whispers against your skin, leaving messy kisses along your tits.

she’s forcing you to grind into her fingers, the show your giving alone making her boxers a soaked mess.

“p—please, abby…” you pant, your head spinning and baby hairs sticking to your forehead.

“i’ll give it to ya’ sweet girl, always so fuckin’ patient, yeah?” abby’s breath starts to hitch as you dig your nails into her back, her chest clad with a black sports bra.

“gonna… abby please, i’m so close—,” you manage to let out, and abby takes this as a signal to let you finish. she holds your body down, pumping at lightning speed, listening to your moans grow and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“c’mon sweetheart, all over my fingers.” your stomach snaps, and sudden flow rushes through your body and right onto abby’s digits. you were shaking, abby’s thick fingers leaving you in a trance, all of her handy work being put to use.

“jesus, abby. you do this to all your new neighbors?” you say, attempting to catch your breath.

“nah, just you honey.”

——

the night stretched on, filled with whispered laughs and stolen kisses, and for once, you were thankful for all the broken things that had brought her to your door.

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby the last of us #kennedy’s works ⋆·˚ ༘ *

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melshifting · 29 days ago

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Hii, I hope you are well!! I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a scripting pack on like homemaker things? Like taking care of the family, the household, cooking and like finances. It’s okay if not, have a great day!!

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ HOMEMAKER things to script in your DR ࿔*ˎˊ˗

!! ꔫა AMATEOUR ACCOUNTANT ― Your finances seem organized by the greatest accountant; not a single penny goes to waste, and you always save more than you intend to if you want a little extra cash.

!! ꔫა INTERNAL CLOCK ― Your sense of timing and physical response are so coordinated that you optimize your time perfectly. You are never in a hurry to get things done, and you even have plenty of time to relax if you want to.

!! ꔫა ALL IN ONE ― Somehow, you know how to do everything; Something wrong with the car? done. You want to install tiles? perfect. Changing the water faucet? that's done. And what you don't know how to do, you learn just by seeing it once.

!! ꔫა HUMAN VACUUM ― No dusty corners; your vision and sense of smell are so enhanced that you can see, smell, and remove dust even in places where others wouldn't even look.

!! ꔫა SELF CHECKOUT ― Financial journal...? Is there such a thing? Your mind is the ultimate expense tracker. When shopping, you know the total in advance with a 100% probability rate to prepare your money.

!! ꔫა QUALITY TIME ― Without fail, you always have, at least, one moment in the day dedicated to your family. No matter how busy everyone is, there is a special time when you get together, no matter what.

!! ꔫა EXTRA HELP ― Even if you don't have a smart home, it seems to organize itself at the end of the day if you're tired; the dust goes away on its own, the laundry is done, and the dishes are in their place.

!! ꔫა CUSTOM FRAGRANCE ― Your house always smells like you lit a candle, even if you didn’t. It just carries the subtle scent of something warm and clean, like someone’s always just finished tidying with care.

!! ꔫა STRESS FREE ― You never get overwhelmed from chores; staying home doesn't require you to be doing something 24/7. Everything you do (cooking, cleaning, washing, etc.) occurs because you genuinely want it to, rather than feeling like a duty.

!! ꔫა ALWAYS ON TIME ― Bills? Paid. Every time, on time. Not because you're trying hard, but because your inner rhythm knows; you don’t even need reminders anymore.

!! ꔫა NO ME, NO PROBLEM ― Whether you are sick, busy, or just on a solo vacation, your house doesn't become a mess without you. You can enjoy being away, knowing that everything will be even better, cleaner, and more organized than when you left.

!! ꔫა NO PRESSURE ― You are never treated like a maid, chauffeur, laundress, or personal assistant by the people in your home. They do chores on their own and avoid burdening you.

pd: tysmm for the suggestion! hope you liked it :3

#shifting community #shifters #shifttok #reality shifter #shiftblr #shifting diary #desired reality #kpop shifting #reality shifting #desired self #shifting realities #shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting help #scripting #dr scripting #shifting script

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months ago

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I love this one- give me an old house with art, and I'm there for it. This bright yellow 1870 home with the green doors is in Kampen, Netherlands, has 3bds, 3ba, 1,722.23 sqft, $549,885.

Open the front door and the first thing you see in the long hall is a mural.

Open this door to go up to the 2nd floor.

We emerge into a cute, cozy apt.

There's a roomy 1/2 bath with lovely vintage tile.

Then, we enter a spacious, bright living room with a vintage wood stove installed in a fancy mantel. Look at all the little doors. How cute is that?

Then, right around the corner from the living room, there's a cozy dining area.

Outside the kitchen there's a cute little china shelf and cabinet. Also, look at the leaded glass window.

This is like a family room area with a brick wall and cute window. Also look at the original wide board floors.

The roomy vintage kitchen is sweet. Love that light fixture.

Big exhaust hood in the corner. Nice cabinets - some have cute mismatched curtains.

Vintage tile backsplash and brass faucet.

And, look at the kitchen sink.

So cute.

The kitchen door opens to this lovely rooftop deck and it's also the view from the kitchen windows. There's even a little storage shed.

Stairs to the uppermost level.

Look at this bedroom- it has a bowl sink and a little sleeping nook with storage underneath. This would be so much fun for a child.

There's also shelving and a large drop leaf table.

This bedroom is very pretty. Lovely beams and a pitched ceiling.

There's also a nice tile bath up here.

This room would make a cute art studio.

There's also a little bedroom tucked in here.

And, a little office nook. There's a lot going on up here.

Behind the green doors in the front there are 2 garage areas.

Down the street.

https://www.funda.nl/detail/koop/kampen/huis-boven-nieuwstraat-63/43840782/

#homes the netherlands #historic homes the netherlands #houses #house tours #home tour

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bratkook · 2 years ago

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two point five. part three (m) jjk.

part one. part two. pairing. handyman!jungkook x reader genre. smut, pwp, fluff!! word count. 5.9k warnings. they’re in luvvv its sick, jungkook still loves to tease, pussy job, finger sucking, its just sweet and dirty idk summary. jungkook finally fixes your pipes, sure he gets distracted while doing it, but what else could you expect when you’re sitting on top of him looking like that. note. thank u guys for loving them & for being patient for more! they make my heart happy so i had to continue writing for them. i hope u enjoy the filth and brief jimin interaction hehe

“Isn’t it cute?” The excitement in your voice makes Jungkook smile as he stares at you, nose scrunched up in endearment when you pull out the shiny brass object from the box you had just ripped open.

“Super cute, baby. What is it?” Jungkook honestly hadn’t seen it too well, but anything you liked was cute to him so he obviously agreed. He was currently leaning against your dining chair, hands resting along the back of it as he hunched over to examine the plastic wrapped thing. It’s not until you peel it back that he knows exactly what it is, giving you another smile when he looks up to meet your gaze.

“A new faucet! I figured since you still need to fix my leaky pipes you could just…install this for me too?” Your voice is hopeful, almost as if you think there’s a chance he’d say no.

“I’ve been trying to fix it for weeks and you keep telling me no.” His eyes are playfully narrowed at you.

“I know, but that’s because this was back ordered. But it’s here now, so can you? Please.”

He sighs, looking away from you as he pretends to contemplate it, giggling when you whine and round the table to grip his shoulders. Even as you wrap your arms around him and beg, he continues to hum in thought, not caving until you’re leaning up and gingerly kissing his jaw and finally his lips.

“Mm, you know just how to convince me huh?” he mumbles against your lips, feeling you smile as he kisses you back.

“Kisses are your weakness?” You giggle when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“No, just you.” His smile is cheeky as he admits this, giving you another squeeze before you’re pulling back with a cute laugh.

Jungkook had taken it upon himself to just keep a tool box at your place, leaving it in your coat closet for emergencies. He had gone ahead and told you what every tool in there did, not like it meant anything to you, knowing you wouldn’t be reaching in there after how horrible your attempt at mounting your television had gone.

This was Jungkook’s emergency tool box, not yours. So, after a quick trip to his truck parked down below, grabbing a few things he knew he’d need, he’s grabbing his toolbox out of your closet and getting right to work. You typically let him work on his own now, busying yourself with cleaning up your apartment, hanging up the newest photostrip you both took last night at your favorite bar and admiring it on the fridge with a smile. But once your to-do list runs out you can’t help it when your feet lead you to your bathroom, slowly pushing open the door as you lean on the frame and observe your boyfriend.

He had managed to remove the old faucet, cleaning up the caulking and any weird water spots before replacing it with the cute brass swan faucet you had scored. He is crouched on his knees now, trying his best to fit under the small cabinet to properly screw everything in, cursing slightly under his breath when he lifts his head and bangs it on the wood.

“I think you’re too big to fit under there babe,” you giggle, enjoying the pointed look he gives you as he straightens himself back out. “What if you try doing it from under?”

His brows pinch on his forehead as he looks at your floor, checking the spacing between the sink and the wall across from it, deeming it wide enough for him to lay on his back to get a better point of view. As long as he kept his knees slightly bent he could definitely fit, he’ll just have to keep his light on his chest to be able to see, unless, “Can you do me a favor, baby?”

Your face lights up at the question, nodding in confirmation instantly, already stepping into the bathroom for whatever he might need.

“Hold the light for me? I need both my hands to finish this off.” You could definitely do that. That’s literally the only way you knew how to help. So without another thought you’re grabbing the flashlight for him and squatting beside his body, angling the light to where you think he might need it.

Jungkook chuckles lightly under his breath when the beam of light hits the wrong spot, his large hand coming out to grip yours and angle it a little better, making you partially lean over him.

“Jungkook, I can’t keep this position for too long,” you laugh out, your knees already burning from the weird angle. He peers out and laughs too, well attempting to before it slowly dies in his throat when you get the grand idea of swinging your leg over his body and straddling his hips. It’s clear your thoughts are pure as you smile at how much easier it is this way, but Jungkook was a weak weak man, and the pretty flowy dress you were wearing made it so he could feel you directly on top of him, only the thin fabric of your underwear and his sweats separating you two.

“Better right?” you wonder, ever so softly putting more pressure on him as you settle, your free hand gently resting on his stomach, thumb mindlessly rubbing along the thin sliver of skin exposed as his shirt rode up. When he simply stares at you, absolutely dazed, you tilt your head and give him a pout that makes him want to sit up and capture your lips in a kiss. Luckily, he snaps out of it, thankfully saving his poor forehead from receiving another awful slam against the cabinet.

“Much better,” he forces out, letting his head fall back to resume his work. His eyes are focused on tightening the screws holding the new faucet in place, but then you’re adjusting your position and his eyes can’t help but look back down at you. He knows you’re not being intentional, but the pressure of you resting on his slowly hardening cock was going to be the death of him. Jungkook really didn’t have anyone to blame but himself, getting riled up so easily thanks to the horny lovesick cocktail he always had fogging up his brain around you.

“Baby,” he groans out, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans back and lets his palm fall over his face. “You gotta stop moving.”

“I’m sorry. Am I not pointing the light where you need it?” Your brows are furrowed on your forehead, pure confusion clouding your features as Jungkook gives you another glance. He has a very familiar look on his face, a look reserved for when he was inches away from you before pouncing on you and turning you into an absolute mess.

That’s when you notice it, the firmness pressed up against your core as you slowly settle back. Your eyes widen briefly, fighting back a sly smile from spreading onto your lips when you realize just how easily affected he is by you.

Maybe it's cruel to relish in it, the mischief already brewing in your mind as you give an experimental roll of your hips. Jungkook groans instantly, brows pinching on his forehead as he glances down at where you connect, words dying on his tongue when you roll forward again before he has a chance to utter anything out.

“Focus on what you’re doing,” you murmur, head tilted slightly as you smile down at him. Jungkook refuses to look away, his brain fighting him on what to do. He knew he could easily turn this around, scoop you up and fuck you right on this bathroom floor. But why was this so hot to him?

All of his thoughts turn into mush when you reach forward, fingers cupping his cheeks as you forcefully turn his head to look at the faucet again. His cock twitches beneath you as you speak once more. “Focus, baby.”

Oh yeah, he’s whipped.

You hum in content when he does just that, hands a little shaky as he resumes his work and attempts to act unaffected. The act only works for a brief moment, his hands faltering when he feels you shift around, your fingers dipping into the waistband of his sweats before you tug them down. Jungkook’s breath shudders as he shuts his eyes and just waits, knowing he couldn’t look down at you because the temptation would be too much.

A small gasp hits the air when you see he’s bare underneath his sweats, his cock already hard and leaking. Jungkook hisses when your hand wraps around him, giving him a gentle tug and swiping your thumb along the tip. He only caves and looks down again when he feels the way you press his length against his stomach, curiosity getting the best of him, allowing him the sight of you tugging your panties to the side before you’re settling back onto him.

“Fuck,” he groans out, seeing your pussy lips spread around him as you rock along his length, tip of his cock nudging against your clit perfectly. The view only lasts a minute before you’re letting your dress float back down around you, the playful look in your eyes telling him he needed to focus on his job.

Jungkook knows he’s good at his job, and he’s proud of it, knowing he always does his best to do everything perfectly. But he usually doesn’t have the prettiest girl he’s ever known on top of him, hell bent on making him cum as he works. So he admits he might not be doing the absolute best job he can, going through the steps as fast as possible, trying his best to focus on something other than how fucking amazing he feels.

Your hand trembles a bit as you continue to hold the light for him, small little moans of pleasure filling up the room as you continue to roll your hips, your other hand resting firmly on his chest to hold you steady.

“I can feel you making a mess,” you giggle, knowing there would be a puddle of precum on his tummy, smearing along your folds with each rock forward.

Jungkook just grunts in response, jaw clenched tightly as he finishes up tightening the last screw. With one final check, he’s smiling underneath the sink, allowing his tools to clang beside him as he grips your hips with both palms, enjoying the way you gasp in surprise.

“My turn,” he breathes out, tongue prodding along his cheek as he effortlessly shimmies out of his position. Your eyes are wide as you take in the look on his face, feeling your chest fluttering in excitement as he easily sits up, scooping an arm around you as he stands up straight.

“That was fast,” you breathe out, the slight tingling of nerves crawling up your spine, knowing Jungkook didn’t love being teased like that—not without knowing he’d get a chance to pounce back at least.

“I had some helpful motivation,” he mumbles, turning you around and settling behind you. His nose nudges along your head as he bends forward, soft breath felt against your ear as his hands slide up your thighs beneath your dress. Your skin tingles as his fingers dance along the edge of your wet panties, teasingly tugging at them as he presses his hardened length against your ass.

“Jungkook, we’re meeting up with your friends in a little bit,” you breathe out, voice trembling slightly as your hands fumble against the sink.

“I know, but you started it.” He smiles now, his eyes looking forward to meet your gaze in the mirror above your sink, brow cocked up. “Do you want me to finish it?”

He can see the way your face is lit up, lower lip held captive by your teeth as you gently bite down, eyes already glossed over as you mindlessly nod. Of course you want him to finish what you started.

“I need words, pretty girl,” he murmurs, both palms continuing to glide along your skin, enjoying the slight tremble he feels, how your body reacts to him instantly. His smile is teasing, lip curling up as he breathes out a laugh when you can only shudder as you try to get your brain to cooperate.

“Please. I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is low, raspy around each syllable, already on your way to being ruined before he has a chance to do anything. Perfect.

“Oh, I get a please? So polite,” he jests, peppering a kiss to your temple as his hands finally hook into your underwear and yank them down. When they pool around your feet you kick them out of the way, instinctually spreading your legs and pressing your ass further into him. Jungkook hums in content, his gaze falling down as he flips up the bottom of your dress, seeing the soft skin of your ass pressing against his length.

He guides his length between your thighs once more, resting perfectly against your sodden folds as he shallowly ruts forward. You moan softly as the tip of his cock nudges your clit, aching for his touch.

“I’ll always do whatever you want.” You know this is a promise from him, having experienced how true to his word he is during the last few months. All you can do is grip onto the counter to prepare yourself when you feel him start to move back. Your gaze is locked onto his reflection, seeing the way he bites onto his lip when he grabs your ass, gripping onto the flesh for his own satisfaction before delivering a swift slap, smiling at the small mewl you release.

You watch with bated breath as he grips the base of his cock, feeling the tip of it pressing into your soaked entrance, teasingly circling around it just to see the way your walls beg for him. He loved it too much, thoughts getting hazier with each small moan that escapes you. The bulbous head of his cock slowly inches forward, your pussy tightening around his tip and making him moan under his breath before pulling out entirely. It was the same motion he loved to do, teasing himself and getting a kick out of the delayed pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you whine out, giving him a pout when he looks up at your reflection. He mumbles out an apology that he clearly doesn’t mean judging by the smile on his face, but the way he finally sinks into you makes up for it. The satisfying stretch that follows is something that will never get old, and the small gasp he lets out when he bottoms out lets you know he feels the same.

Jungkook can only shut his eyes as he lets the feeling wash over him, his palms gripping your hips tightly when he feels your walls pulse around his length. He could live and die buried inside of you, always wanting to hear the soft moans of his name and the small whimper you release when he pulls his hips back and thrusts forward.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans out, eyes fluttering open to stare at the way your arousal coats his cock, shiny essence glimmering in the bathroom light. His mouth drops open in awe, stomach tensing up at the sight, hands gripping you harder when he sees the way you arch your back for more.

“You were fucking made for me.”

His words make your body warm up, spoken so sweetly in such a lewd context, only intensifying when he speeds up the thrust of his hips, bending forward to kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“Tell me,” he breathes out, slight begging dripping from his tone, always so desperate to hear how much you wanted him. His hand comes up to grip your face, fingers cupping your jaw to turn you to look at him. The look on his face makes more arousal gush out of you, seeing the pinch between his brows, eyes swimming with desire as they float between your eyes and your lips.

“I was—fuck—“ you keen at a particular thrust, eyes rolling back momentarily. “I was made for you. Only you.”

“Mm, good girl,” he sighs, connecting your lips in a messy kiss. You moan against his lips when he snaps his hips forward, just hard enough to have you seeing stars behind your closed lids. His fingers rub your cheeks, gently coaxing your mouth open as he flicks his tongue along the seam of your lips, groaning in approval when you allow him entrance.

Your arm reaches back to grip his face, needing to touch him, to let your fingers slip into his hair and yank as your tongues flick against each other. Jungkook groans unabashedly when you gently suck his tongue, heavy eyes opening up to stare at you when you pull away briefly.

“We gotta be quick.” It’s spoken mainly to himself, a reminder that he couldn’t take his sweet time with you today, knowing there was a ticking clock telling you both to hurry up. He’s tempted to say fuck it, to blow off the plans with his friends and ravish you the way he always wanted to. But he knows how much you were looking forward to it so he sucks it up, deciding he’ll just have to make up for it tonight.

“Yeah, quick. Quick is fine,” you shudder, eyes focused on the way his lips shine, slightly swollen from your kissing. His tongue swipes at his piercing as he smiles when he notices your dazed stare, giving you another kiss to satisfy you before turning your head back to stare at your reflection once more.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll still take care of you.” His head presses against yours, staring directly into the mirror. “Want you to be good and watch yourself for me though. Can you do that?”

His hips have yet to slow their rhythm, the wet smack of your skin connecting still filling up the bathroom. It makes you feel dizzy, too transfixed on it and the way he just looks at you. His smile is as sweet as can be, his fingers coming to your lips, humming in content when you open your mouth to allow them in, coating them in your spit just the way he liked it before pulling them out.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He mumbles out more praise against your head, whispering it into your ear, each raspy syllable turning you into a puddle against him. Your eyes are glued to your reflection, seeing the way he kisses down the side of your neck, sucking on your skin until he’s satisfied with the mark he leaves. His trail isn’t complete until he’s yanking down the top of your dress, watching in fascination as your tits spilled out. A choked moan fills the air when he pinches a sensitive bud, spit covered fingers rolling along it, smiling when you jut your chest out further for more.

“You said quick, Jungkook,” you pant out, having an internal battle just like he was. It was easy for him to get side tracked though, enjoying the teasing, taking it slow until you were crying for it, bringing you right to the edge just for you to stay there until he thought it was time. You can see his mind floating now as he grabs your boob, admiring the way it fills up his palm, his hips slowing down ever so slightly to really enjoy the way you clench around him with each yank of your nipple.

“Sorry baby.” He’s back now, eyes sharpening up as he looks at you again. You can see something brewing in his mind and it fills you with the tingle of nerves, not knowing what he could be thinking. “I’ll be quick.”

Before you have time to think, his hand slides down to scoop around your thigh, hauling up one of your legs, fucking you deeper and laughing when you squeal at the feeling. Your mouth is dropped open as you try to take it all in, hands gripping the counter until your knuckles pale, the curve of his cock hitting just right inside of you.

“Oh fuck, feels so good—you always feel so good.” Your mindless babbles have pride filling his chest, seeing the debauched look on your face reflected back on the mirror. Everything feels hot, the thick air clinging to your skin, leaving you gasping out as he fucks you harder. It has you desperate, leaning back against him, one hand reaching behind you to hold him close despite the position.

“Yeah? You like the way my cock fills you up, pretty girl?” Jungkook huffs out a breath when you tighten around him in response, his arm situating your thigh until your knee catches on the counter. “Keep that there for me baby.”

You can only nod in response, doing your best to do as he asks despite the rocking of his hips. His hand settles onto the countertop on top of yours, interlocking your fingers together as he speeds up. A mewl reaches his ears when his free palm slides up your supported thigh, under your little dress and meets your clit, soaked in your arousal as he rubs tight circles into it.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you gasp out, your hand clinging onto his bicep, digging tiny half moons into his skin. The muscle in your thigh is starting to ache from the position but the overwhelming pleasure you feel is enough for you to ebb it away.

You can feel the way his arm flexes as he rubs deft circles onto your swollen clit, his harsh breathing hitting your hair, and when you meet his gaze in the mirror it makes your stomach flip.

“You’re so wet,” he groans out, his fingers glide with ease, applying more pressure so they don’t slip around, sending sparks up your spine. “Always so messy for me. Do you really like me that much?” He teases you, trying to act calm and unaffected but you can see the clenching in his jaw, can feel the way his hips stutter slightly as his orgasm creeps up on him.

Jungkook moans out your name when your walls tighten around him, body desperately trying to keep him in as your own high approaches. “I can’t help it, you know I love you.” You sigh it out so beautifully it makes his heart skip a beat. You had both said it before but Jungkook would never get tired of hearing it, would never get tired of saying it back to you, not ashamed to admit that a simple four letter word was enough to nearly send him over the edge.

“I love you more,” he groans out, snapping his hips fluidly, feeling the way you start to tense in his hold as all of it begins to overwhelm you. His eyes are locked onto you, the way your chest hiccups as you gasp out in pleasure, the purple splotch on your neck that he was so proud of, your kiss swollen lips dropped open perfectly, eyes glossed over in ecstasy. You were close, the grip you have on his arm tightening, digging into the dark ink on his skin.

“I gotta feel you cum baby,” he begs, not wanting to cum before you did, already feeling it too close to hold it off any further. His cock throbs inside of you, each torturous glide of his hips making his eyes fall shut, finger continuing to flick along your clit. You’re nodding against him, head falling back, moans getting breathier until your orgasm finally washes over you.

“Fuck fuck, oh my god,” you whine out, brows pinching together as you squeeze your eyes shut, bright white flashes behind your lids as the feeling spreads through your limbs. Jungkook groans as he fucks you through it, your walls milking his cock, feeling you gush around his length until it trickles down your legs.

It’s an absolute mess between your thighs and Jungkook just wants to add to it. His hand finally retreats from your clit when you start to whimper at the overstimulation, his lips peppering kisses onto your shoulder as he lowers your thigh, being as gentle as he could be while pushing you forward. You’re pliant in his grasp, allowing him to bend you over, supporting yourself on the sink while he repositions you enough to be comfortable.

“C’mon Kookie, want you to make me messier,” you coo out, voice sounding dreamy as the afterglow hits you. He can see the soft smile on your lips as you turn your head to look back at him, fully enjoying the sight of your boyfriend falling apart.

“Don’t worry baby, I will.” Both hands grip your hips now, his hips snapping forward with enough force to turn your mind into mush. His eyes fall on the way your ass bounces with each thrust, the smack of your skin sounding like music to his ears. He curses under his breath as the familiar feeling starts to spread, hips losing their grace as he gets desperate, surging forward to get as deep as he could before he finally cums too. A guttural moan of your name fills the room as he shoots into you, painting your walls and making you hum in content at the warmth.

Jungkook fucks into you a few more times, savoring the feeling as he comes down from the high, bending forward to kiss and soothe your skin. His hands glide up your body, gentle touches making goosebumps flare up on your arms. A smile spreads on your face when he interlocks your fingers, gently tugging you back up and wrapping his arms around you.

He looks like a giddy child in the reflection, face smushed against your head, eyes shut with the biggest smile on his lips. You take this moment in just like you do every other moment with him, shutting your eyes and smiling as you let him hold you, storing the memory in your mind in a space made just for him.

Jungkook gives your temple another kiss before slowly pulling out of you, the two of you groaning at the feeling. You wince when you feel the globs of cum already leaking out of you, but before you can move he’s already reaching to the side, grabbing a handful of toilet paper to clean up the mess he made before letting your dress fall back down.

You spin around now, finally seeing him face to face, wrapping your arms around his neck, the sweetest smile on your lips. His hands smooth down the fabric of your dress, fingers fiddling with the material.

“This dress is really pretty by the way. Makes you look like an angel.” He makes it easy to swoon over him, your heart warming in your chest as you take in his casual compliment.

“Thank you baby.” You pucker your lips as you lean up and he wastes no time kissing you back.

“I ruined your lip gloss,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, pulling back to stare at your bare lips, no longer shiny with your favorite coconut scented gloss. The pink gloss was long gone, no evidence left on his own lips either.

“Yeah, you always do.” You give him another kiss before looking at yourself in the mirror and groaning while your fingers attempt to fix your mess of hair. “Jungkook, we’re supposed to meet your friends in half an hour.”

Jungkook laughs as his hand comes up to gently prod at the small hickey he had mindlessly sucked into your neck. It was a teenage habit he would be taking to his grave. “Oh shit, well you better cover that up or they’re gonna make it the topic of conversation for the night.”

You glare at him through the mirror. This would be the first time you’d be meeting his friends, and if they were really the way he described them to be then you know that Taehyung and Jimin would definitely point your hickey out. The tingle of anxiety starts pooling in your stomach as you make a move to exit the bathroom, needing to fix yourself up as quickly as possible. As you walk you realize you’re still naked from the waist down, only the thin fabric of your dress keeping you decent.

“Oh god. I need my underwear too, I can’t embarrass myself with a hickey and going commando.”

Jungkook beats you to it, bending over to pick up your ruined panties off the floor, looking cocky as he lets them dangle off his finger like a prize. “These are mine.”

Your cheeks burn as you watch with wide eyes, seeing him bring the material close to his face before he’s tucking them into the pocket of his pants. He looks so proud as he pats them, acting like it was nothing as he turns around to open the bathroom door. It’s not like he gets far though, your hand grabbing his arm and yanking him back with a force he had never experienced.

“Jungkook, you freak! You can’t take those with you.” His eyes are huge as he stares at you, slightly impressed at your determined strength and entirely amused at how scandalized you look.

“Says who?” he guffaws, keeping you at arms length when you try to reach for them.

“Says me! I’ll tell your friends you’re a panty thief.”

“Please,” he laughs, loud. “They already know! Already roasted me about it a few weeks back.”

“Wait, is this something you do?”

His face falls briefly, realizing he had just confessed to stealing your underwear. “What?”

That makes you laugh now, no longer trying to reach for your panties, letting your head come to rest against his chest as you giggle. This all made sense now, the realization that a few pairs of your underwear had mysteriously gone missing. You had blamed it on your washing machine eating them, had even asked Jungkook to check it or call someone to repair it before the entirety of your underwear drawer went missing.

Of course it was him.

“You’re so dirty!”

Jungkook reassures you that you look great for the millionth time in the span of twenty minutes, a smile still on his face as you ask him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes baby. Your lipgloss looks perfect and you can’t even tell that I went to town on your neck.” He laughs when you gently swat his stomach, holding the door open for you as you step into the brewery. Jungkook had said it was his group's favorite place to hang out in, a huge space with games and activities for everyone to enjoy, a wide selection of beers and even a few cocktails that he knew you would prefer. He leads the way with his hand in yours, knowing exactly where they would be.

When you approach a corner near the dart wall you spot a group of boys, all standing up with dorky smiles on their faces as they clap obnoxiously loud.

“Oh my god, what are you guys doing?” Jungkook questions, laughing as he gets closer. None of them pay him any attention though, looking right at you as they continue to clap.

“Wow,” a boy with pale blonde hair sighs out, being the first to stop clapping as the rest slowly follow suit. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet the woman who has turned Jungkookie into an absolute fucking simp.”

That makes you laugh now, hand covering up your mouth as you see them all nod along. Jungkook doesn’t even respond, tonguing his cheek as he tries to hide his smile when he steps away from you to allow you to have your moment.

“Really, it’s honest work but I’m happy to do it. You must be Jimin?”

He gasps, smile growing wider on his face as he looks at Jungkook, finally acknowledging him. “Do you talk about me?”

“Yeah, about how fucking annoying you are,” Jungkook scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes as he takes a seat at the edge of the bench, scooting down enough for you to settle in next to him.

Your earlier nerves calm a bit as everyone starts to talk, introducing themselves before it flows into easy conversation. Once the drinks start making their rounds you find yourself joining in, laughing along to old stories they reminisce on, playfully teasing one another in a brotherly way that shows you how deep their friendship actually was.

“Oh no, we need to tell you about that time Jungkook got so high off a pot brownie that he cried at ColorMeMine.” Taehyung can barely say the sentence before he’s cackling as he recalls it, smile wide as can be while he throws his head back.

“No you absolutely fucking don’t!”

“C’mon, we basically already told her! She just needs all the juicy details.” Yoongi adds on to it, a smug smile on his face as he holds up his beer to take a long sip.

“What, the juicy details of them threatening to kick me out?” Jungkook groans, covering his face in embarrassment. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t properly read the strength of it and before he knew it he was staring at his half painted plate wondering how the hell he got so high and why the fuck everyone else was so calm about it.

“Well…that, and the video I took of it all,” Jimin whispers out, biting down on his lip as he starts to unlock his phone and scroll through his photo gallery.

That makes Jungkook’s head snap up, wide eyes giving Jimin a look that you know was meant to be threatening but the other boy finds it funny, giggling as he turns to look at you.

“I’ll send it to you later. Keep it for emergencies.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open in betrayal, eyes floating over to you and seeing the way you smile and nod. “Emergencies?”

“Jungkook, don’t worry about it!” You cackle as you gently cup his cheek, feeling it bulge out as he smiles back, enjoying the way you were getting along with his friends—even if it was at his expense. He didn’t care really, he’d dish out all of his embarrassing stories if it made you laugh as hard as it did today.

“Am I gonna regret introducing you to each other?” he mumbles out, playfully glaring at his friend.

You look over at Jimin too, the same thoughts brewing in your minds as you laugh together. You could only imagine all the ways you and him would gang up on your boyfriend, pushing his buttons in that way he swore he didn’t like while secretly enjoying it.

“Oh, definitely.”

Jungkook can only groan, trying so hard to pretend like this was detrimental, as if the idea of two of his favorite people getting along was the end of the world. But as he stares at you giggling while you watch that god forsaken video, his heart swells, thankful Jimin had given him the pep talk he needed to confess and even more grateful you had decided to hire him off the sketchiest app ever made.

#jungkook smut #new

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lackinggravitas · 3 months ago

Text

part twoooo lets go. this one is. really long! more than double the last one. sorry 'bout that! next one should be shorter

i need a name for this au btw. i am open to suggestions

part 1 / part 2(you are here!)/ part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

warnings for: a bit of a panic attack at the end and also just general angstiness at parts. not all of it but. hoooo boy fellas

ao3 vers

Ford decided to call him (he’d found out the creature was in fact male) Remus, after the founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. Ford was fond of those sorts of old stories - he studied cryptids and stuff of folk tales, after all. Ancient myths weren’t too far off.

(He used to sit up at night in bed, sharing his pillow, sharing the same warmth and breath, whispering recollections of the stories he’d read to cover up the fighting downstairs. And Stanley would whisper back things like “Why’d he do that?” and “He shoulda done, I woulda done-” and Ford would shush him between the lines, whispering back, “It’s a metaphor, it’s emblem-attic of the society it's from,” and “That’s just how the story goes.” Stanley never liked those answers, but he’d quiet to listen nonetheless.)

The connection between man and creature seemed apt for a name. It was that or ‘Mowgli’, and that felt a bit too childish. ‘Remus’ fit the creature anyways, and rolled off the tongue much better than ‘Romulus’ did.

Right now, Ford was trying to coax Remus into the bathtub. The faucet of the tub rumbled as it coughed out spurts of water, not so hot as to be painful to the touch but warm enough to be comforting. No bubbles, as he’d rather not heighten the risk of getting soap in Remus’s eyes.

Remus eyed the tub suspiciously, hunkering down to the ground, chin to the bathroom tile, and growled softly at it.

Ford huffed. “Come now, Remus, it’s just a bath. I bet you’re itchy, with your hair as dirty as it is.” He was also hoping the water might kill some of the bugs Remus likely had, if they did exist.

Despite the sound logic, Remus didn’t seem appeased. He kept glaring at the bathtub like he expected it to jump at him.

“Is it the noise? Is that the problem?” The pipes weren’t particularly good, hastily installed as they were, and the tub was full enough now. Ford pulled the handle to stop the flow, and it coughed out one last burst before settling, the pipes going quiet. Some of the tension in Remus’s frame softened slightly. “There, now will you get in?” Ford patted the edge of the tub in what he hoped looked inviting. “I think you’ll like it, if you gave it a shot.”

Remus’s eyes followed his hand, face and body still showing some clear apprehension. His eyes flicked towards the closed bathroom door consideringly. Ford sighed.

“Here, what if I went first?” Ford kicked off his shoes, then pulling off his clothes with a clinical detachment. Dropping his clothes on the ground and pushing them outside of the perspective splash zone, he set his glasses on the sink and eased himself down into the water. It was warm, really quite comfortable. He met Remus’s eyes, and gestured meaningfully to the water. “There, see? Perfectly fine.”

Remus watched him carefully. Creeping forward on his hands and knees, he lifted his head to peer into the tub. He dipped a tentative hand in, then hummed, the crease in his brow relaxing a tad.

“Just water,” Ford continued, knowing full well Remus didn’t understand him and talking nonetheless, “Nothing to be afraid of.” He reached over to pull softly yet insistently at Remus’s upper arm in a clear gesture to get over here. “Now get in before it goes cold.”

Remus clambered awkwardly over the side of the tub and flopped in.

“Remus!” Ford spluttered, wiping his face of the sudden splash of water Remus just sent in his direction. “Good lord, man!”

Remus popped out of the water, panting a bit - his version of a laugh, Ford had learned. Remus yipped at him, something playful mischievous in his eyes, bringing an arm down to stir up even more water at Ford. He barked excitedly before dropping the lower half of his face back under the water, blowing bubbles.

“We’re not here to play, Remus,” Ford said in what he hoped was a sufficiently stern tone. “You’re very dirty, and for your own health and comfort we need to clean you up. I’m only in the tub with you to make you feel more at ease in this unfamiliar environment.”

Remus looked up at him innocently and blew more bubbles with his nose. Ford sighed.

“You’ve had your fun, now turn around so I can get at your hair.” It would be a bit uncomfortable, and Ford usually didn’t allow people that close to him, especially without clothes on. But he knew that that was purely a cultural, societal thing. Remus wouldn’t think it was weird, and Ford didn’t need to think that hard about it. It was only Remus, after all.

Remus, of course, didn’t do as Ford commanded. He lifted his head out of the water and blew a small jet in Ford’s direction.

Ford huffed, but it was a weak sound. Stan used to do something similar, when they were young enough to share baths together. Splashing, kicking and laughing, throwing water in Ford’s face. The Stan Ford remembered would’ve hated this bath - there weren’t enough bubbles, and no toys to speak of.

Stanley had had a way of making everything, even the most mundane activities, fun. He was the one who came up with new games, who had all the best jokes.

Ford missed him.

He was brought back to the present by a hand pawing at him, Remus whining. He was looking at Ford worriedly, patting at Ford’s face clumsily. His own cheeks were damp, Ford realized - he’d started tearing up without realizing.

“I’m fine, Remus, thank you,” Ford said softly, gently pushing Remus’s arm away.

Remus kept whining, giving Ford a truly pitiful look. He shrank back, hunching until it was just his eyes above the water, looking down. It was strange, almost like he was-

“Oh Remus, no-” Ford grabbed him by the bicep, gently but firmly pulling him back up. “It’s not your fault, no need to act all guilty.”

Remus whined at him, but it was softer now. He looked at Ford with something like hope in his eyes, tentatively leaning towards him. Ford sighed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” He pet Remus’s hair, trying to be comforting. It seemed to work - Remus stopped whining, just leaning close. His previous energy seemed to have dimmed, leaving him subdued. It put a weighted, slightly guilty feeling in Ford’s chest to see Remus so restrained, even if it would make bathing him easier. “I just… get a bit in my head sometimes, that’s all.”

Using his hands he gently guided Remus to turn around, putting his back to Ford. Remus kept trying to turn around to look at him, but Ford just insistently pushed him back into place each time. He leaned over the side of the tub, picking up the soap bar and washcloth he’d left there.

“I lost my brother when I was a boy, you know,” Ford started, not really thinking about what he was saying as he wet the washcloth in the water. He rubbed the soap into the towel, covering it in suds and a faint, pine-y smell. “I was only five years old at the time.”

Remus stopped trying to move once Ford put the towel to his shoulder and started to scrub. He seemed to recognize what was going on now, and he relaxed contentedly into Ford’s working hands.

“We were traveling on a road trip to visit some distant family a few states away.” Ford scrubbed away what seemed like decades worth of dirt and grime, moving from Remus’s shoulders to his back. “I can’t remember what the occasion was. A shiva or a wedding, I suppose. My family wasn’t much for vacationing.” He smiled, wry and bitter.

Then he paused. He’d scrubbed away most of the grime on Remus’s back, finding it dirtier than he had realized. But underneath it was faded, scarring of rope-like slashes, thin and thick, long and short, that had been obscured before. They didn’t look like animal scratches.

Ford swallowed, forcing himself to go back to washing Remus, his hands now shaking slightly. “...I had fallen asleep in the car,” he continued, voice now trembling, struggling to keep his mind from the memory and his eyes from Remus’s back at the same time, “And when we stopped at the gas station, I didn’t wake up. Long car rides, they always… put me to sleep…”

Soapy water ran down his hand, the washcloth clenched so tight that his knuckles were bone-white. He switched to washing Remus’s arms.

“I guess he went in to steal us some snacks, but he must have forgotten to tell my parents, and they were in such a rush to get there on time, they just… they didn’t notice he didn’t get back in the car.”

He dropped the towel in the water. For a minute he just watched it sink, caught suddenly in the moment, unable to move. The soap dissipated into the water, the towel drifted back up to the top. He pushed it away, reaching for the small water pitcher he’d set aside.

“If I hadn’t fallen asleep, if I’d been awake to tell them he wasn’t back, if I had been able to go with him-” he snapped his mouth shut suddenly, breathing sharply. He knew the answer to that.

He would’ve stayed behind in a heartbeat if it meant he could have remained with Stanley.

That’s what got him about it all. The fact that everything would have been different if he had just woken up. How easily preventable it all was.

But he hadn’t woken up. And now he didn’t have a brother.

His hand tightened around the handle of the pitcher. He took a measured, sharp breath, dunked the pitcher into the bath, and promptly dumped water over Remus’s head.

Remus yelped, startled by the sudden dousing, whipping his head around to blink at Ford in surprise. Ford pushed him back into position. “I know, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll… I’ll give you a warning next time.”

Deep breath. It’s been twenty years.

He filled the pitcher again, placing a hand on Remus’s shoulder as a warning and then slowly pouring the water into his hair again, taking care to wet the stubborn knots and mats as well. Twenty years.

He set the pitcher aside and squirted some shampoo into his hand, then began working it into Remus’s thick hair. Ford had never had hair as long as Remus’, and it only seemed to get longer when wet. It was definitely supposed to be curly, Ford thought, but it was in such poor condition it was hard to tell. He pulled out a twig from Remus’s hair. Very poor condition.

Stanley would have liked Remus. He would have thought he was cool at first, and then he would have thought he was fun when he got to know Remus’s personality. He would have-

“I built my lab with an extra room, you know. If I- when I find him.” Ford sighed, picking at one of the knots with his fingers. He should have tried to detangle Remus’s hair before he put the shampoo in. “Right across from mine. So that we wouldn’t have to be far apart ever again.”

The knot slowly came loose, soapy hair spilling over Ford’s fingers. He reached for the pitcher again, guiding Remus to tip his head back so he wouldn’t get soap in his eyes as Ford rinsed out his hair. The shampoo suds swirled in the water.

Ford set the pitcher aside again, deciding to focus on the knots before he moved to the conditioner. He hadn’t had anything to de-mat hair around the lab, so he’d settled for a comb, some oil, and some scissors if working them out proved impossible.

He wanted to keep as much of Remus’s hair intact as possible. He hadn’t devised a way to efficiently and effectively communicate with the creature yet, and he didn’t want to potentially risk upsetting him by chopping off his hair. It was entirely possible Remus might be attached to his current hair length and would react poorly to having it cut. It certainly was a very impressive length, even with the mats making it look shorter than it likely actually was.

“That reminds me,” Ford said idly as he took up the comb in one hand and the oil in the other, “I’ll need to set up some sort of quarters for you if you are to stay here. I’m certainly not going to make you sleep outside - unless you want to, I suppose, but I think you’ll find yourself much more comfortable indoors.”

Ford really hoped Remus would choose to stay. His lab felt much more like a home just with Remus in it - Remus somehow seemed to thaw parts of him that had long frozen solid twenty years ago, when Ford lost his brother. He felt warmed by him in that sun-touching way only Stanley had been able to do.

Perhaps if he were to make his home as appealing, as comfortable as possible to Remus, he might be much more inclined to stick around. Ford straightened a little, brain starting to waken from the murk and spin quickly, whirling with sudden activity. What did Remus like to eat? What would he find most comfortable? Would he find the stairs too awkward to climb, would an elevator just make him nauseous? Would he like it if Ford installed more windows, got some house plants? He’d need something to keep him from becoming bored indoors as well. What would that be?

Ford could remodel. Maybe he should buy new furniture. Would Remus be offended if Ford bought him dog toys? Dog treats? If Ford gave him enough food, would he stay? Ford could do, would do anything. Whatever Remus wanted, just so long as he stayed.

Another knot unraveled between Ford’s fingers. He sighed. He’d be at this for a while.

One at a time, Ford painstakingly untangled Remus’s hair, stopping periodically to pour more water over his head whenever his hair started drying. It took a surprisingly long amount of time, but Remus did have a lot of hair.

And as he worked, he talked.

“I’ve been studying anomalies in Gravity Falls since I graduated,” he said, using the comb to work out one of the mats. “I was originally going to West Coast Tech, but, ah,” he frowned, grinding his teeth together at the memory, “It turned out they had already met their Jewish quota for that year. I could have waited, I suppose, but I was desperate to get out of the house. It was suffocating in there.”

Remus idly stirred his hands in the water as Ford worked, content and patient. He seemed to enjoy the attention and the ministrations, leaning towards Ford when he could, seeming happy whenever Ford picked the work back up after a brief pause. Ford wondered if he thought of it as being groomed - Ford was no expert in coyotes, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that was a way they strengthened social bonds. It was a common behaviour among social mammals.

“The rules are rigid and outdated, not to mention discriminatory.” Ford sighed, feeling his brow furrow as he continued trying to comb out a mat. He continued, voice becoming more quiet and bitter, “It’s always something, Remus. If it’s not my hands, then it’s my family background, or something to do with my behavior, somehow.”

The mat finally came loose under his hand and comb. Ford moved on to the next one.

“I don’t understand people. They’re like aliens to me, Remus. There’s so many rules, and they can be so illogical - and they never tell you what they actually think, or how they’re actually feeling, you’re just expected to know, somehow.” Ford exhaled sharply out of his nose. “It’s part of the reason why I dedicated my life to studying the strange and paranormal. To me, that’s easier to understand than why someone might have reacted a certain way to something I said.”

Remus swirled a finger in the water, making patterns out of the soap and shampoo that had been washed in and floated on the top like foam.

“You don’t even speak and yet I already feel so much more at ease with you than I do with any of the locals in this town, and I’ve been living here for years.” Another mat finally came free under Ford’s comb and hands. He moved to the next. “…I was the same with Stanley, you know, it just came so naturally, before…”

Ford swallowed.

“We were so close, and…” The comb caught on the mat, becoming snagged. “And then…”

Ford stamped his mouth shut. No. He wasn’t doing this again. Stanley wasn’t dead, he was fine, any day now Ford would get a call saying they’d found him, any day now he’d come back to Ford.

“He’s going to come back,” Ford finished firmly. “I know he will. We won’t be apart for long.”

For now Ford sat in a bathtub, the water slowly going cold, picking knots and mats out of a wildman’s hair.

A pile of sticks, leaves, and other assorted small objects accumulated on the ground as he worked, pulling them out of Remus’s thick brown hair.

The sheer length of Remus’s hair was a marvel in and of itself. As Ford unraveled the years worth of tangles, knots, and mats, it seemed only to reveal itself to be even longer and longer, spooling down Renus’ back, his shoulders, his front, fanning out in the water.

He looked like a creature out of a fairytale, an ancient fae of the forest. But then Remus tilted his head, glanced back at him with wide brown eyes, and the faerie-like illusion was broken. There was no century-old unknowableness in those eyes - they were wide and open and trusting. His eyes were human.

Ford guided his head back to looking forward, tsk’ing softly. “This wouldn’t take so long if you took better care of your hair. For an anomalous entity, you certainly don’t seem to have any sort of magic about you. I’d think one of those fae-types would be able to keep themselves tidier than this.”

Remus tilted his head toward the bathroom door consideringly. Ford huffed.

“I’m almost done,” Ford said. “I’m actually working quite quickly, you know. This is hardly an easy job.”

Picking up the scissors and a bowl he had set aside, Ford made quick work of the mats that had proven impossible to tame. He did his best to keep the hair from falling into the water - the mats would probably clog the drain if given the chance, and besides, their bath wasn’t over yet.

Once the last of the mats were gone, he put the scissors and the bowl to the side and ran the comb through Remus’s hair one more time. It took a moment to get through all of it, the hair being as long as it was. It didn’t snag even once. Ford nodded to himself, satisfied.

“Right. Now we just have to apply the conditioner and wash your front, and we’ll be done.” Ford set the comb aside and reached for the pitcher, scooping up some water from the bath. “I think you’ll find yourself enjoying how loose your hair is after this. It hardly seemed comfortable as it was before.”

He gently poured the water over Remus’s head and down his hair, making sure it was well-soaked. Remus stiffened slightly, letting out a small, unhappy whining sound.

“The water’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Ford sighed. He didn’t want Remus feeling uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much he could do. “We’re almost done.”

He patted Remus’s back, and surprisingly the creature actually did relax at that, muscles untensing under Ford’s hand with a small sigh. In retrospect, it made sense that Remus would be tactile like this - what with his affectionate behaviour, as well as his seeming lack of language comprehension, it was probably the best way to communicate with him. Ford made a mental note of that, archiving it in his head.

Ford set the pitcher aside and grabbed the conditioner, squirting a generous amount of it into his hand. He lathered Remus’s hair, finding it satisfyingly smooth and easy to work with now. Remus seemed to enjoy the attention just as he had with the shampoo - he leaned into Ford’s hands, wiggling happily in place. Ford smiled softly at him, patting the side of his head affectionately.

Once he was done with the conditioner, Ford rinsed his hands in the bath, then reached over and plucked up the washcloth that had previously been floating around, aimless and slow, on the surface of the water.

“If memory serves correctly, you’re supposed to let conditioner sit for a minute or two before rinsing it back out.” He reached over the side of the tub, grabbing the soap bar again and rubbing it into the towel. “We can do a bit more washing up in the meantime.”

Setting the soap aside again for the last time, Ford grasped Remus by the shoulder and wordlessly instructed him to face him. Remus looked up at him, - Remus always held himself with a slouch, like he was always trying to make himself seem smaller - tilting his head and letting out a small boof.

“Just these last two steps,” Ford reminded him. He picked up one of Remus’s arms, scrubbing at the dirt there.

Just like with before, it took some scrubbing. The water had slowly turned gray, and it grew darker still. Ford tried not to think about how he and Remus both were marinating in shampoo, soap, and increasingly dirty water. Among whatever other things Remus had on him.

When he got both of Remus’s arms done, he moved on to his torso, and then the trickiest part - his face.

“Don’t squirm,” Ford warned him pointlessly. “Not unless you want soap in your eyes.”

He carefully wiped at Remus’s face. It was still dirty, but not as dirty as the rest of him. Thankfully Remus didn’t seem to be in the habit of sticking his face into the dirt nearly as much as he did his arms and back. The grime came away easier, less layers of it.

Ford held him by the chin with one hand to keep him still, and it worked surprisingly well. Remus was completely docile as Ford washed his face and neck, running the cloth over his cheeks, his forehead, even down his neck-

-where the dirt came away to reveal a birthmark. Ford’s hand stalled.

Really, it was an incredibly benign birthmark. Two moles, about an inch apart, one right below the other, down the side of his neck. They were faint, a barely-there tint easily hidden by a shirt collar. Ford knew that birthmark. He knew it very well.

It was on his neck too. As had it been on Stanley’s as well, because they were identical twins. Stanley used to say it was their ‘cool vampire bite scars, Sixer!’

Ford’s eyes moved up. He wiped at Remus’s face and, would you look at that.

The Pines family nose was very distinctive. It had been passed down to Ford and Stanley through their father, and his father before him, extending in an endless chain of noses. It was big and oddly shaped and a reddish-orangish color, standing out sharply from their natural Ashkenazi-paleness.

Ford had found this nose a bit embarrassing, teased as he would be for it (he was teased for just about everything about him, because everything about him was abnormal), but then he would remember how proud Stanley had been of their noses. How much glee and pride he took from looking across a family reunion and seeing their nose on almost all of the faces there. How he’d loved how it made them look like their family. And remembering that, Ford could never feel bad about it for long, because it had been something that made Stanley happy.

And Remus had their nose.

A strange noise filled the bathroom, and it took Ford a moment to realize it was him. Laughing, except he didn’t find this funny. He was giggling uncontrollably, and none of this was funny at all.

“No,” Ford said, wildly, head feeling dizzy, swimming like the water, rushing and roaring, “No, no, no.”

Remus blinked at him, making an inquisitive sort of noise.

Ford barely processed the towel slipping out his hands or himself shrinking backwards, still shaking with high, manic giggling. “No. No! You’re not him. You’re- you’re not him.”

Remus whined at him, leaning forward with a concerned look on his face.

Remus couldn’t be Stanley. Remus couldn’t be Stanley because Stanley couldn’t be sitting in front of Ford, dirty, ribs faintly showing through his sides, face gaunt, hair overgrown. Not understanding English, living in the woods. Isolated from society for long enough he couldn’t remember his own language. Couldn’t remember he was human, that he wasn’t a fucking coyote. Remus could not be Stanley, Stanley could not be Remus.

Ford cackled, finding his throat constricting and his head going fuzzy. He was distantly aware his breathing wasn’t right, that he wasn’t getting enough air, but it barely registered. It didn’t matter. “This is all a very funny coincidence. You aren’t- you’re not him. You’re not him!”

Remus shrank a bit, whining loudly. He crawled forward, almost like he was scared, until he was close enough to paw at Ford’s face, his shoulders. Pawing, because he didn’t remember how to use his hands.

No! No. Remus was not Stanley. It was a coincidence. A complete coincidence!

“Very funny,” Ford said nonsensically. “I can’t believe- I almost- and you-” Ford shook his head, giggling, vision going blurry around the edges, and he didn’t know if it was from tears or if he was about to faint and he didn’t care either way.

He wasn’t Stanley, he couldn’t be Stanley. Stanley couldn’t be starving in the woods, small from malnourishment. Stanley couldn’t have those scars on his back. Stanley couldn’t have mats in his hair and a wild look in his eyes and visible ribs. Stanley couldn’t have hair so long from twenty years without human contact. Ford did not put his brother in a snare and Ford was being very reasonable and very logical and he did not abandon his brother to be alone in the cold and starving and having to join a fucking pack of coyotes to survive because Ford was an idiot child who couldn’t keep his eyes open for long enough to make sure his brother wasn’t left behind like a discarded toy. None of these things ever happened-!

Something wet rasped against the six-fingered hand white knuckled around the edge of the bathtub.

Ford jerked his hand back, suddenly thrust out of his thoughts and back into the present. Remus was whining very loudly at him now, eyes wide and scared and tongue peeking out of his mouth from actually licking Ford’s hand like a concerned dog trying to calm someone down.

Ford panted. He stared at Remus and Remus stared back. Still whining, Remus shuffled forward the water, pawing at Ford, looking like was about to try and lick him again.

And without thinking Ford suddenly seized Remus, gripping him by the shoulders intensely. Remus yelped and for a moment looked like he might bite at Ford, but then Ford started talking.

“You aren’t him,” Ford whispered intensely. “We’re going to finish this bath, and then I’m going to prove you aren’t him, and I’m going to feel very silly about this whole thing, and you won’t care, because you can’t understand English and you probably aren’t human anyways. And then I’m going to laugh this whole thing off and forget it ever happened.”

Remus just blinked up at him worriedly.

“You aren’t my brother,” Ford insisted, desperation starting to leak through his voice. “I- I would know if you were.”

(And deep down, he did.)

tag list :)) let me know if you’d like to be added!!

@littlelilliana15

#stan pines #ford pines #hehehehe #alto alliterates #txt #im not sure if blankerror wants to be tagged or not so out of caution to not potentially annoy them i wont #if theyre reading this and they want to be tagged lmk #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #fic

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sirbonesly · 2 months ago

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John's Competent Wife (remake)

@anonmousegosqueak @writer-fennec @ihaventgotaclue-really

Jonathan Price would not be so bold as to say that he is a traditional man. His home life was anything but traditional, with a dead mother and a shit-bag father, then years of worse foster homes, all leading to the military. Jon is more than happy to clean the house, or cook dinner for his wife, or work to pay the bills. But when he met you, it was like everything clicked in his mind. Strong-willed and a tad argumentative, you came into his life like a goddamn bomb. Four months of dating of arguing over who’s picking up the bill when you both get paid plenty, four months of figuring out how to work around two busy schedules and still find time for each other, four months of Jon finding the perfect ring for you. He proposed after dinner, the two of you sitting on your couch because you have the better kitchen out of you both, a simple request that had always been coming.

“Want you marry me, dove. I’m getting deployed in two weeks, want to know that I’ll have someone to come back to.”

As if you would leave him while he was deployed. The acceptance was merely an eye roll before you started planning a date to visit the courthouse. In five days, you were both dressed in formal attire, standing in front of a judge with Jon’s team crowded around the both of you. Dinner afterwards was at a nice restaurant, Jon refused to let either of you cook on your wedding day and then going home to your place. Three days after that, Jon gives you the surprise of a new house, a “fixer-upper” as he put it. Not ready for either of you to move in yet, but with plenty of work to be done to it, a passion project for both of you. Then six days later, you’re kissing Jon’s cheek as he leaves for a month-long deployment, trying to convince yourself that this will be just like those missions that only took a few days. Convincing yourself that he will be fine.

You take the chance to work on the new house, maybe even meet the neighbours. Equipped with Jon’s toolbox and driving his truck, you pull up to the house and grimace a little. The lawn is cut thankfully, but from the driveway, you can see the way the porch awning is slanted to the right, can see the rot in the wooden boards. The stairs, a sturdy brick, are nearly black with grime and dirt, in desperate need of cleaning. Rolling up the sleeves of your jacket, you get to work.

It's slow moving, and you spend more time watching the videos on your phone than you do actually repairing anything, but you’re determined to make some progress before Jon gets back home. As you drag yet another bag of trash to the curb, a hand taps on your shoulder.

“Hello! I couldn’t help but notice that you’re the one who bought the house next to mine. I’m Anise, it’s lovely to meet you.”

It's a fast friendship that you fall into easily. Anise is an angel, you swear. She knows which videos are going to be the best for what you need, which numbers to call for things like a dumpster or an electrician. The sink is the first project you take on by yourself, using the video that Anise showed you. By the end, you’re soaked because you forgot to turn the water off, but the new faucet and pipes are secured and looking good. You even ask the plumber to check it when he’s there to check the rest of the house’s plumbing, and he gives you an impressed nod!

You don’t stop at the sink. When the installation team puts in your washer and dryer, you realise the doors aren’t on the sides you wanted. Before, maybe you would’ve called the store you got them from or even called Anise. But now, you simply look up a quick video and realise how easy it is to switch them around. The doors are a little heavy, but you manage it in less than two hours, sweat dripping down your temple and a proud feeling in your chest.

For as independent as you used to claim yourself to be, there was never really anything for you to be independent about. Sure, you had your own job, paid your own bills, and you went to the gym whenever you had the time, rarely. But if your car had something wrong with it, you took it to the auto-shop. If your heating stopped working during the winter, you called someone. But now, you have the confidence to branch out, to try things on your own.

#john price #call of duty #john price x reader

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marigoldendragon · 1 year ago

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Was thinking about who in the twst cast would be a sobbing mess at their wedding

Riddle. No. He'd be fluctuating between super happy and trying to maintain some decorum, and end up red faced half the time, but I dont think he'd cry.

Trey. Pretty emotionally stable guy. He'd probably get misty eyed if he felt it but otherwise no.

Cater. Yeah. Not like, super ugly crying (he needs to look good in his wedding photos) but I think he'd shed a few tears.

Ace. Yes. He'd be all cocky about it right up until the vows, then he'd start balling.

Deuce. Yes. I think he'd be fine until either his mum or his spouse started crying, then he'd break.

Leona. No, he'd just be a smug bastard the whole day. Not saying he wouldn't love his spouse, he'd just be insufferable about how great they are.

Ruggie. I think he could swing either way. Like he's had a hard life so he'd know how to not show venerability, but if it was a smaller more intimate ceremony where he'd feel safe to cry I think he would.

Jack. No. But his tail would be a blur the entire day.

Azul. Absolutely. Man craves affection. Getting married? He'd be a MESS.

Jade. No. Mr playing at being a butler would be the perfect gentlemen the entire time.

Floyd. No. He would be bouncing off the walls though.

Kalim. Absolutely. He has no qualms about showing his emotions he would let loose on the day.

Jamil. Yes. He'd hate that he's crying in front of people, but someone choosing HIM?? He would not be able to hold it in.

Vil. As fun as it is to imagine getting married is what breaks Vil's mask, no. He's a professional, he's not going to ruin his makeup.

Rook. Yes. One look at his spouse in their wedding attire and he'd be on one knee spouting poetry about their beauty, tears running down his face.

Epel. Yup. He'd probably not be happy about it, but he does cry a lot in the main story. Sorry Epel XD

Idia. Yes, but probably more from being just kind of generally overwhelmed by the whole thing. Like his anxiety gets the better of him once or twice.

Ortho. No? I would assume once he's lived some more life and gotten adult body upgrades he'd probably want to find romance. Maybe he'd make and install a crying unit just so he can experience it?

Malleus. No. But I think it would hit him AFTER the wedding. Like he's at home with his new spouse, looks over at them and it just kind of hits him. Starts ugly crying.

Silver. Hmmmm no. He's a pretty serious guy, and I think he'd get misty eyed, maybe a tear or two, but I don't think he'd be the sort to really cry that hard.

Sebek. Yes lol. He'd try so hard to be the serious mature husband but man cannot control his emotions. He'd have tears running like a faucet all day (and denying it all the time).

Lilia. No, he'd be all big beaming smiles. His sons' weddings however... he'd be a waterfall of tears the entire day. An absolute wreck of a man he'd be so proud.

Feel free to add any thoughts. There's a few characters I'm not super knowledgeable on, happy to read any counterarguments/extra thoughts people have :D

#twst #twisted wonderland #just some thoughts I had #I'm not tagging every chracter

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bellaxgiornata · 2 years ago

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Seeking Forgiveness [Part Five]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: The part you've probably all been waiting for is finally here and I'm dying to see reactions to this one! Also, I have no idea why tags aren't working for a couple of you, I tried a few times to get them to work but I blame tumblr, I'm sorry! As always, Feedback is always appreciated!

Lying in bed with your sheets pulled up to your chin, it felt like the entire room around you was spinning. Even with your eyes clamped tightly shut, you could feel that uncomfortable churning in your stomach, that dizzying sensation making it feel like your bed was rocking back and forth on the ocean. You’d been lying there for at least a half an hour now, practically begging the higher powers above to give you just one night where you could fall straight to sleep without feeling like you were going to be sick.

Your morning sickness had only gotten worse now that you were entering the ninth week. And you absolutely hated the deceiving term of 'morning sickness' considering the fact that you’d thrown up a handful of times over the past few days now, and most of those times were not in the morning. It affected you on and off throughout the day, and almost always hitting you as you were relaxing and trying to fall asleep.

That telltale feeling quickly began to creep back up on you, your saliva pooling in your mouth. You winced, groaning and burying your face into your pillow as you swallowed, hoping to stop what was about to come. But the saliva only pooled more along your tongue as you felt your stomach give an uncomfortable lurch. The contents within it abruptly surged their way upwards with barely any warning.

Kicking your sheets off of yourself, you tossed your legs over the side of your bed. You threw a hand over your mouth as you hurried out of the bedroom, racing across the hall to your bathroom. You’d barely managed to flip the light on before dropping down to your knees in front of your toilet. Lifting the seat up and lowering your face above the bowl, you began to violently empty your stomach.

By the time you’d finished retching, you pathetically slumped on the floor before the toilet, running a hand across your sweat-dampened forehead. Groaning miserably, your eyes closed as you cringed at the disgusting taste in your mouth. Though thankfully the longer you sat on the cool tile of your bathroom floor, the more your nausea and dizziness began to subside.

“This is such bullshit,” you moaned to yourself. “Why does every part of this have to be so awful?”

It was a few minutes that you sat hunched on the floor in front of the toilet before you finally felt like you weren’t going to be sick again. Gradually you pushed yourself up from the bathroom floor, making your way over to your sink. Picking up your toothbrush from its holder, you got it wet and covered it in toothpaste before you began to vigorously brush the disgusting taste from your mouth. At least now that you’d gotten sick and gotten that out of your system, you could hopefully get comfortable in bed and fall asleep this time. That’s how things had gone the last few nights at least; the nausea seemed to disappear once you finally got sick.

Finished brushing your teeth, you rinsed off your toothbrush and put it away. After, you turned off the faucet and dried your face and hands on the nearby towel. Exhausted, you stepped out of the bathroom, flipping off the light as you went, but you’d barely reached your bedroom before you froze at the sound of your name being spoken through the silence of your apartment.

Fear shot through you immediately, the hair bristling on the back of your neck as you spun on your heel. A soft, surprised gasp slipped out of your lips when you spotted Daredevil standing just at the edge of your hallway, the faint light trickling past the curtain-covered windows in your living room casting dark shadows across his masked face.

You stood there in shock for a moment, trying to comprehend the fact that Matt was even here in your apartment. He’d called you again just earlier today, but you’d once again refused to answer your phone for him. And now here he was, just letting himself into your apartment like he always used to do. As if he was still welcome here. The thought of that had your anger soon reigniting within you, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You saw the way Matt stiffened in response, clearly picking up on the sudden shift in your mood.

“So you think you can just break into my apartment now, do you?” you hissed. “After everything?”

“I came here to talk,” he replied, an edge to his tone. “Because you certainly weren’t answering your phone. I’ve been trying to call you for weeks.”

A bitter laugh fell out of you, your arms coming to cross over your chest in agitation. You ignored the way your breasts ached at the gesture, too angry to care about that.

“Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you after the way you ended things,” you shot back. “Maybe that’s why I wasn’t answering your calls, Matthew .”

The corner of his lip curled back at your words and the way you’d shot his full name out at him, as if it had physically hurt him as he winced in pain. Good, you hoped the bite in your words hurt. He deserved it after how he’d hurt you.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you saw him close it again almost immediately. His head canted to the side, the gesture which you knew meant he’d picked up on something with his senses. A different kind of fear rippled through you next, wondering just what he’d noticed.

“Are you sick?” he asked, his tone softening.

You scoffed at the question, shaking your head. So he’d noticed you’d been throwing up. You hoped the smell of your sick lingering in the air would send him away. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have right now; all you wanted to do was go to sleep. You were exhausted from your work week on top of everything else, you didn’t need a vigilante ex-boyfriend breaking and entering on a Thursday night just to fight with you.

“No, I’m not sick,” you snapped. “Not that you’d care anyway.”

“Of course I’d care,” he immediately disagreed.

“Sure as shit didn’t care when you ended things,” you spat back. “Couldn’t care enough to give me a single evening of your time. So don't tell me you suddenly care now, Matthew .”

Matt’s body went rigid, something dark crossing his masked features. A bit of the Devil was peeking through right now, you could see that. Because you’d touched a nerve of some sort.

“I wasn’t the one who ended things,” he replied, his voice rough and low. “ You did that. I came here to apologize for how I’d treated you that night and for all those times I’d broken promises to you. That’s why I’m here.”

Your brows shot up onto your forehead in shock, your mouth falling open. He thought you had ended things? With everything he’d been doing, all the promises he’d broken and the way he’d slammed that door on his way out that night–he had the audacity to claim you broke up with him ? Your fury only coiled tighter as you glared back at Matt, shoulders squaring as you held your ground, desperate to unleash the pain you’d been holding back for weeks.

“ I didn’t end the relationship, Matt,” you retorted, tears brimming in your eyes. “That was entirely on you when you chose to walk out that goddamn door and put Hell’s Kitchen over me. Like you did night after fucking night. For weeks . Because that’s all you fucking care about, isn’t it? This goddamn city. When it comes right down to it, you’d choose this city over me. That’s what you proved to me, Matthew."

Inhaling a sharp breath as you saw his lips thin out along his face at your accusation, you realized you couldn’t stop the words that were about to come flying out of you. Because for weeks now you'd wanted to hurl them at him like knives, hoping they’d hit their mark and wound him.

“You did this, Matthew,” you growled, pointing a firm, accusatory finger at his chest as that rage and pain finally loosed itself on your tongue. “You abandoned me–abandoned us . That is on you.”

“I didn’t abandon–” he began, stopping almost instantly.

His head yet again canted to the side and you swore you could almost hear his thoughts suddenly racing.

“What?” he asked sharply. “ Us ?”

There was a pause that followed his question, Matt’s entire body frozen on the spot–until his head abruptly shifted. You watched as his head tilted a few different times in confusion, his lips twisting beneath the hard line of his mask. And then the red lenses of his mask finally found their focus–fixed on your abdomen. His mouth fell open in shock as he stood there speechless, the tension quickly leaving his body as if he'd lost all of his fight in that instant.

"You're–you're pregnant?" he breathed out.

"Yes, I am," you answered.

As he continued to openly gawk, your arms lowered, wrapping protectively over your stomach. Matt took a cautious, hesitant step towards you, his gloved hand reaching out. Though he promptly stopped himself in his tracks, his hand frozen and left hovering between the pair of you.

"Why did you never say anything?" he asked softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A humorless bark of laughter flew out of you at that. What a ridiculous question to ask. As if you hadn't made an attempt to tell him.

"I tried to tell you," you said bitterly. "That night I practically begged you to stay with me, Matt. The night you walked out that door and chose Hell’s Kitchen instead. After that, I hadn't been able to bring myself to talk to you. Couldn’t look at you and tell you."

His hand that had been hovering in the space between you both continued its way up, pulling the mask from his head and revealing his stunned expression and mussed hair. There wasn't an ounce of anger anywhere on his features in the dark, his sightless eyes still fixed on your abdomen. Most likely tuned into the small, fast heartbeat there.

"I–I didn't know," he choked out, shaking his head. "I am… so sorry, sweetheart."

"Don't," you warned him, eyes narrowing. "Don't call me that, Matt. I'm not your sweetheart ," you bit out. "I'm not any of that to you anymore."

Matt visibly shrunk back, wincing at your words. His gloved hands nervously fidgeted with the mask he held between them both as you saw his throat bob with a hard swallow.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, his face contorting with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I was–was such an asshole. You didn't deserve that. Any of it."

"No, I didn't," you agreed. "You turned into a different person, Matt. One I didn't recognize. But maybe that’s who you really are."

"I thought you were trying to give me an ultimatum," he confessed, his voice tight with emotion. "That night. That's what I thought. That you were going to tell me I had to pick you or Daredevil and I–I was hurt and angry. Because I thought you knew I couldn't give that part of myself up completely. I thought you’d accepted that side of me."

"I would never have done that," you told him. "You certainly need to learn how to compromise and how to figure out what is truly a priority, Matt, but I would never have forced you to choose one or the other. Because I loved you for all of you. I'd always told you that."

"I know, you're right," he said, nodding quickly as he took another step closer. "I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I fucked up, I know I did. And I'm sorry. So incredibly sorry. You deserve better and I want to make it up to you. To fix things."

You shook your head, taking a step back from Matt. His face fell instantly at the physical distance, his eyes pinching tight.

"You can't fix this, Matt," you told him, waving a hand between the pair of you. "You walked out on me–on us. You'd been breaking promise after promise to me for weeks. I don't trust you anymore, don't you get that?"

"What do you mean?" he whispered, his face twisting in pained confusion. "Of course you can trust me. I love you. I'd never hurt you. Either of you."

You grimaced at the way he said he loved you, your heart constricting in your chest. What you wouldn't give for the situation to be different, to be able to have those words not feel like shards of glass tearing you open as they came out of his mouth.

"I don't trust that you'll do what you say," you countered. "I don't trust that you'll be there for me when I need you. I don't trust that anything else could ever mean more to you than this city, Matt. We would only ever come second, and that's not enough."

In the dim light coming from your living room windows behind Matt, you could see the glisten of tears in his eyes. His face further scrunched up as he tried to fight back his tears, roughly shaking his head at you.

"That's not true," he said softly, the words breaking. "That could never be true."

He sniffled loudly, the sound shattering your heart even further. As angry as you'd been at him and as much as you'd wanted to hurt him for weeks now, actually seeing him so emotionally distraught didn't make you feel any better. If anything you just felt worse about this entire disappointing situation. His actions had only left you both broken and lonely.

"I'd never pick anything before you or my own child," he assured you. " Never ."

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, the warmth of them a noticeable contrast to the cool air of your apartment. Your arms hugged your abdomen tighter as your lips trembled.

"I don't believe you, Matt," you whispered.

His face tightened further, a choked sob falling out of him. You grimaced at the sight, your own tears starting to fall faster. It felt like your heart was breaking all over again right now having this conversation. Having to tell him the things you knew you needed to.

"I would never keep you from your child, Matt," you began slowly, trying to keep your voice steady, "but I'll be the one raising this baby. Alone."

"No," he disagreed quickly, shaking his head at you. "No, don't say that. You won't do this alone. I want to be here for you. I want to be a part of this. To do this together ."

Jaw tightening, your fingers gripped the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. You wanted that, you really did, but not after what he’d put you through for the past few weeks. You couldn’t handle navigating pregnancy and raising a young child with a father who was unreliable, always in and out of the picture at their own leisure. That would only make things worse, and it would only hurt you and eventually this child more.

“We can’t, Matt,” you said, forcing the words out. “I can’t depend on you. And if I can’t depend on you–if I can’t trust that you’ll be there when we need you–then I don’t want that. Because you’ll only cause more pain.”

You bit your lip, struggling to get the words out as you watched Matt crumple to his knees before you. He was openly weeping now, each strangled sob only causing your heart to ache further. There was no pleasure to be gained in watching how broken he looked right now, bent in half on his knees before you with tears streaming down his face, but you knew this was what you needed to do.

“If the responsibilities of a committed relationship were already too much for you,” you continued, voice cracking on a few words, “then I don’t think you’re ready to be a father, Matt. Not like that. Not now, at least.”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he choked out. “Please.”

Eyes snapping shut at his plea, you couldn’t look at him as you forced yourself to finish what you knew you had to tell him. It was for the best in the end.

“I’m nine weeks along,” you told him, eyes still clamped shut. “So there’s–there’s not really anything for you to be a part of at the moment, Matt.” Swallowing hard, you tried to ignore the way it felt like someone was squeezing your heart. “I don’t need your help with anything. And maybe–maybe farther along we can set something up for you to occasionally hear the baby or feel their movements, but until they’re born…there’s not really anything more for you here right now.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please don’t say that. I’ll fix this! I promise I’ll fix it!”

You swiftly turned around, burying your face in your hands. Telling Matt all of this pained you far more than you imagined it would. It didn’t help that there was a small part of you that felt like you might’ve been making a mistake. That somewhere in the back of your mind there was a small voice wanting you to turn back around and give him another chance. To let him try to prove himself. To see if he could fix things.

But you ignored that voice, shoving it far away. He’d walked out on you. What you were doing now was not the same.

“Please leave, Matt,” you whispered.

You didn’t wait for a response before you stepped into your bedroom, closing the door behind you and hurrying over to your bed. Climbing into it, you threw the blankets over yourself, burying your face in the pillow and trying to muffle the sound of your crying. In the hallway you heard Matt slowly rise to his feet, his sobs still audible to you in the bedroom. But he didn’t follow after you. Instead, you heard him make his way out to your living room, sliding a window open as he stepped out onto your fire escape. Then you heard the soft thump of your window closing after him.

That’s when you let yourself openly weep, crying into your pillow until you eventually cried yourself to sleep.

Furious at himself, Matt slammed the door to his roof access behind himself with a sharp bang that echoed loudly throughout his apartment. Tearing his helmet from off of his head, he stormed over to the stairs before he stomped his way down them, his boots landing with a heavy thud along each step. At the bottom, overcome with sheer rage, he threw his helmet forcefully from his hands with a roar. He heard the way it flew across the room and skidded along the floor before slamming loudly into the radiator.

Matt began to tear his gloves from his hands after, his chest heaving with fury and shame and despair. He threw each glove roughly onto the floor next beside his boots, pissed at himself. Pissed at Daredevil. Pissed at everything.

You were pregnant. That’s what you’d been wanting to tell him that night. And like the fucking piece of shit he was–self-sabotaging as Foggy always told him–he’d yelled at you. Pushed you away. Abandoned you. And all you’d wanted was him. For him to be there for you.

And he hadn’t even given you something so goddamn simple as that.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly.

In his agitation, he began to pace the length of his apartment like a feral cat. His hands were in his hair, roughly tugging at the strands as more tears slipped down his cheeks. He had fucked things up far more than he’d realized. But knowing that you were carrying his child? How was he supposed to let that go?

He loved you. Truthfully he loved you more than the city he swore to protect, even if he’d been an absolute asshole when it came to showing that to you lately. Because you were right. His actions hadn’t shown that you were his priority.

With an enraged growl Matt’s hands darted out, grabbing onto his kitchen table and violently flipping it over. Everything on it clattered noisily to the floor, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was fuming and too far gone in his thoughts. He could feel the Devil’s wrath inside of himself, begging him to be released. He could hear the Devil’s voice telling him that he did this to himself. That he got what he deserved. That he’d never be good enough for you or anyone. That he’d be a terrible father.

Gritting his teeth roughly together, his breathing came in sharp and hard. His hands landed on his hips as his eyes clamped shut, the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he tried to quiet that voice in his head.

Because no. That was wrong.

Exhaling a rough breath, he tried to regain his composure. You deserved better, that was true. He hadn’t been treating you the way he should’ve been before things had ended. That was on him. But you and his unborn child deserved better. And he was going to give you both that.

So that’s what he would do. He’d find a way to fix things. To prove how wrong you were about him not wanting to be a father and about him not loving you more than Hell’s Kitchen. To find a way to get you to trust him again, feel capable of depending on him. And while he knew he couldn’t give up the Devil, he knew he could learn to compromise. To truly be there for you. And he’d do whatever it took for however long it took for you to trust him again. Because you and that baby were his family.

You and that baby were his.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

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anotherbrahmsfangirl · 15 days ago

Text

The Carrot & The Stick

Brahms Heelshire x Unnamed Fem!Nanny

Warnings/Tags: Violence, some non-con touching, manipulation, some swear words. Word count: 4+K ^^; Authors note: The next installment in my story, you will have to read "Cutting In" to get caught up.

The golden morning dawn lit up the chilly bedroom, bringing with it the songs of the birds outside the window. Gradually stirring awake, she found herself weighed down in the bed. The previous nights events replaying in her mind. She wasn't alone in the Heelshire mansion anymore.

Brahms dark curls tickled her chin, reminding her that she was still intertwined in his embrace, and to her surprise, she had turned and wrapped her arms around him at some point during the night. His masked face nestled firmly on her chest, heating it with every slow breath he took. True to his word, his arms never left her midsection, hugging her snugly as if she were a favored childhood teddy.

"Brahms.." she whispered, hoping he wasn't the type to wake up grumpy. "Brahms.." she spoke again, louder and urgently, struggling in his grip. Her movements made him cling tighter. He grumbled softly, nuzzling his face into the space between her breasts. She flushed at such intimate contact between them, but now was not the time to get flustered over modesty. "Brahms! Please! I need to pee!"

He jerked awake at her words, untangling his arms and legs to let her scurry out of the covers and to the bathroom. After her much needed relief, she stood in front of the sink mirror, rubbing her tired face with her hands. How quickly her life had changed. One moment, she was dancing with Malcolm, and the next, she was offering herself as a sacrifice to a full-grown masked man that crawled out of the wall like some horror movie ghoul. Warm water ran down the sink drain. She splashed her face with it and dried off with a hand towel. Smacking her cheeks, she willed herself to wake up out of her daze, wearily wishing everything was just some bizarre dream brought on from too much wine but knowing full well it wasn't. Opening the door, Brahms stood tall and bare chested, looming over her just on the other side.

"GEEZUS!" She clutched at her shirt, stumbling back a step. Tilting his head, he continued to block her way, those intense hazel-green eyes trained on her every move. "You're so quiet...might have to bell you like a cat." She joked, testing to see where his humor lied. He made no sound, and with his mask on, she could only guess if he smiled or not. Judging from his unchanging eyes, she figured it was a no. 'Great, stoic and silent.' Edging past him, she offered him the bathroom, which he took.

Taking her chance, she hastily rushed to the bedroom to change out of her pj's. No way was she going to undress in front of Brahms, especially with him following her around like some lost puppy. As she finished pulling her sweater over her head, the sound of flushing and the sink tap rattling alerted her to his movements. Thinking on it, no wonder he was so scrungy last night. The plumbing in this mansion must be ancient. If he was hiding from her, there's no way he could do anything with the faucets that wouldn't alert someone in the house.

She shivered, finally noticing the chill in the air. It felt much colder today than it had ever felt since she came to the Heelshire estate after the New Year. Stepping to the window, she gasped and pressed her palms to the frosted glass. The entire grounds and surrounding forests were draped in a thick quilt of snow with more lacy clumps falling from the sky. Massive icicles hung from every tree branch and every overhanging eave of the manor's roof sparkled with an icy fringe. An ice storm must have rolled through along with the snow during the night. Out of habit, she reached for her phone but groaned, realizing it was still downstairs in the parlor where her and Malcolm were dancing last night. The battery was probably dead. Not that it mattered, she couldn't get internet this far out from civilization anyway. She frowned, chewing her lip out of frustration. Of course, with no TV, no radio, and no internet access, she had no idea how long they'd be iced in.

Two large hands palmed the glass right next to hers. Brahms' warm body pressed against her back as he peered out the window over her shoulder. A renewed chill jittered up her spine making her tense up. He closed in on her, taking a long, slow breath in her hair. Hands moved from the window to encircle her waist.

"Brahms!" She curtly scolded, startling even herself. He released her hips and took a step back, hands up showing her he wasn't touching her. She cast her eyes up and down his topless frame. "Y-you'll catch your death like that." Brahms glanced down at himself, his trousers hanging off his narrow hips loosely. "Don't you have anything clean to wear?" His eyes circled up to the ceiling as he thought it over and gave her a single nod. Quickly, he disappeared out the door into the hall. Curious to see where he was going, she stepped out to follow him but found the hallway eerily vacant. 'So fast'

Tip toeing down the corridor, she peeked into a neighboring empty room scoping it for any openings like the one he slipped out from in the parlor, but found it untouched. Same with the one across the hall. She poked her head into the dolls room where doll Brahms still lay, dressed in his little pajamas, tucked into bed. She couldn't figure out where he had vanished. She leaned on the wall and folded her arms, watching and waiting to see from which room he'd emerge. A soft throat clearing snapped her attention back to the doorway of her room. There Brahms stood, fingers fidgeting with a button on his shirt's cuff. A worn pair of dark brown pants held up by suspenders graced his lower half. Not much different from his previous outfit. Everything still ill fitting and thread bare. His shirt had a dusting of dirt on it and what appeared to be a small cobweb clinging to his shoulder.

"Wha..where did you come from?" She pushed off the wall and dusted the webbing from his shoulder. Catching his gaze from behind that deadpan mask, his eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, the corners wrinkling. Was he smiling?! "Cheeky devil." She couldn't help but smile back, shaking her head at his clever trick. "Let's get some breakfast started, shall we?"

In the kitchen, she immediately preheated the oven, not caring what she made, so long as it required baking and could warm up the small room. Pulling out a muffin tin, she whipped some eggs with spices, herbs, and a sprinkling of cheese. Filled the cups and popped them into the oven to bake. On the burner, she fried up two large English sausages. Brahms stood by the table, antsy as he rubbed the back of his neck. Several times, he had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her. His anxiousness palpable. Stepping up behind her once more, he watched her cook, his hands politely tucked behind his back. Just being close to her was enough.

"Want to make us some toast?" She asked, over her shoulder. She needed to give him a task to do, anything to get his attention off her. If even for a few minutes. He hummed in answer, stepping out of her proximity to fulfill the request. She gave a small sigh of relief, glad to have her personal space back for a bit. Her mind drifted to Malcolm. She hoped he made it to the hospital. How was she going to reach out to him and let him know she was ok? In an effort to remain professional and to dissuade him from any mixed signals, she never got Malcolm's cell phone number. Maybe he called the police as soon as he got into town. Would armed men bust down the doors any minute and whisk her away to safety? Safety... Was she even in danger? She worried her lip again, poking at the plump sausages with a fork keeping them turning in the pan. Since Malcolm left, Brahms had been as docile as a kitten albeit a little handsy. Surly she was safe in this house with him. He had been pretty obedient so far. The ding of the oven dragged her from the whirlwind of thoughts that swarmed her brain.

Turning with fresh egg muffins hot and ready, she noticed Brahms had set the small kitchen table for her complete with butter and jam for the toast. A startling whistle came from the counter to her left. He had even put water in the electric kettle for tea. 'Seems pretty capable to me.' she thought to herself.

They sat quietly together, her first meal with the real Brahms. Hell, her first meal with anyone besides the doll since the Heelshire's left on holiday about a month ago. She watched him move as he set about, buttering his toast. Sitting tall and straight in his chair, every motion seemed polished and poised a reflection of his affluent parents. "Do you even need a nanny?" She wondered out loud, resting her cheek on her hand, her elbow propped rudely on the table, a stark contrast to his prim table manners.

"No." He flatly answered in his adult voice, while cutting his food into tiny bite-sized chunks and spearing them with his fork. He turned away from her just enough to discretely stuff the loaded fork under his mask. Her mouth hung open a moment, gobsmacked by his frank answer. "Then why the hell am I even here?" She pushed herself back from the table, her appetite vanishing.

Setting his fork down, Brahms turned to look at her, hands folded neatly in his lap. "To take care of me and keep me company. So I'm not alone anymore." She couldn't believe what he was saying and with such a matter-of-fact tone, as if she should have known all this already. She stood up, pacing the kitchen, the absolute absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. "I don't understand... I'm hired and flown out to England to take care of what, I was lead to believe, was an 8 year old little boy... only to find out it's a DOLL, and now, I find out I was actually taking care of a grown ass man this whole time!?" She rubbed her temples, aggravation radiating off her in waves. "And that letter! What did your parents mean when they said they couldn't live with themselves knowing what you became?" She stilled, the night before flashed through her. How he emerged from a panel in the wall, wielding a fire poker. Clearly he had no qualms in trying to kill Malcolm. That all-consuming rage. Was that what his parents feared? Was that why they wrote that they wouldn't be coming back?

Brahms sat calmly, letting her vent, uncertain on how to answer her accusatory questions. So he didn't and remained silent. She sat back down with a huff and stabbed at her food with her fork. "Hope Malcolm got to the hospital ok." She grumbled loud enough that Brahms could overhear. She stuffed a piece of sausage into her mouth. "I'm sure he'll tell the authorities that I'm trapped here with a psycho and they'll come rescue me."

She hadn't time to react before Brahms's hand was tight to her mouth. The table rocked but didn't tip. Her chair and plate, however, ended up on the floor with her in a crashing clatter. Pinning her down on the tiles, her legs thrashed about between his knees, hands clawing at his wrist in an effort to get him off of her. "Never call me that again!" His voice an animalistic growl. She met his eyes, filled with that same hateful rage she witnessed last night. Her own misted over with fearful tears that began to seep up from the corners. She sucked a gasping breath in through her nose and nodded. Maybe she was in danger with this man after all.

Realizing the terror in her eyes, his hand sprung back, releasing her. And just as quickly as the previous night, his demeanor flipped from angry to apologetic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me." He crawled off and bowed before her on his knees, trying to appear as compact as he could, hands tucked tight to his chest. "I won't hurt you... never, never!" His voice slipping back into the childlike tone to match his timid posturing.

She sat up and scuttled back on her rear until she hit the cupboards with her back, giving maximum distance between them. Rubbing over her face where he had tightly gripped her, she panted, keeping her gaze locked on him. "Why am I really here? Tell me the truth." her eyes narrowed.

Brahms lowered his gaze to the floor, his hands cupped in his lap, picking at his cuticles nervously. He spoke softly, trying to bring his inflection back down from the scared boy to that of a grown man and settling somewhere in between "To be with me... to be mine."

"In what way?" She reared her head back, eyes never leaving the cowering man before her. "In what way, Brahms!" She shouted louder than she wanted to, but right now her emotions were strung tight like a rubber band, ready to snap. She needed to hear him say it. The note from his parents hinted to it, and he danced around it, but she was going to make him admit it out loud to her.

His head drooped. Dark mahogany curls hung over his eyes, obscuring the only way she could gauge his emotions other than his voice. "As... my wife." His tone was lower still, hints of the man he was creeping back in. She tilted her head back against the cabinet closing her eyes as she processed the words. Heart beat thundering all the way into her ears. Why didn't his admission make her blood run cold? Why did the idea of being tricked into being a bought bride for a strange masked man not send her running out the front door to take her chances with the ice and snow? She took a long, slow, cleansing breath while she puzzled the words she wanted to say together in her head. "Your parents.." she started tentatively. "Was the nanny job.. their idea?"

He nodded, still not daring to meet her gaze. She pursed her lips, taking in the bits of information as it fell into place. "So the nanny position was really just like...an audition... to be your... wife?" The last word felt so foreign in her mouth. Previous relationships she'd been in would have imploded if any mention of going to the next level was even hinted at, and here this insane family had tricked her into it. Hugging herself tightly, she sat on the cold kitchen floor in silence, her attention distracted by the patterns in the little rug by the sink as a million thoughts raced through her brain. 'This is all so... Crazy'

"I knew you were the one! The moment I laid eyes on you." She glanced up to watch Brahms crawling back into her personal bubble. Caressing her cheek gently, his thumb swiped over her lower lip, breath shuddering behind the pale mask. "And you..." He inched forward, pushing well past her boundary. "You chose to stay with ME." There it was. That phrase again. He didn't know she was only saying that to give Malcolm the chance to escape. Or maybe he did know and didn't care. Either way, he heard what he wanted to hear, what he so desperately needed to hear, and now she felt bound by her own words like a curse. The hard porcelain nose of his mask slid past her own as he pressed the lips to hers. The surface felt warm. Whether from his breath or from constant contact with his skin, she wasn't sure. He pushed harder, her head pinned backed against the doors of the cabinet. His hands trailing down her arms, grabbing her hands and linking his fingers with hers.

Several agonizing seconds passed. She whimpered as he 'kissed' her with rough passion, filled with the need for her touch. The moment cut short by a sharp ring from the land line phone as it echoed through the silent manor. Brahms pulled back, his eyes trained on hers. She saw certainty reflected in them. Another ring chimed out. "I... should get that.." she nervously spoke, breaking eye contact. Brahms leaned back on his knees, giving her the space to get up.

"H-hello?" She croaked, then cleared her throat, remembering that she was the caretaker here and answered in a more professional manner. "Heelshire residence."

"Are you alright?" Malcolm's voice abruptly called out from the receiver. "Did he hurt you in any way?"

She glanced at Brahms, still kneeling on the floor in the kitchen, watching her like a hawk. She cupped her hand over the phone and turned away from him. "I'm good! I'm fine, all in one piece. What about you? How's..."she winced remembering the attack. "How's the arm?"

"Broken... pretty badly. With some fracturing. Got the wound stitched up last night." He sounded distracted, the mummer of hospital noises behind him. "They're prepping me to get a cast in place. Sorry, I don't have much time to talk, I just... had to know you were still.." He trailed off. "Look, I tried to get the police to go out there, but this weather is...well...it's complicating things a bit. Expect a call from them soon. We'll get you out of there as soon as we can. Hold on!"

She sighed, a weight lifting from her shoulders. "You worry about yourself, I'll be fine."

Malcolm hesitated on the other end. "Hey, so, I didn't say anything before because, well, we all thought Brahms was dead, but.. You might be in real danger. I never told you the whole story about the Heelshire's and their son, but then I don't know how much of it's true and what's just hearsay. Last I heard, Brahms..." The line went silent. "Malcolm? Hello?" She turned to see Brahms with his finger in the cradle, holding down the switch ending her call. His eyes dark as he stared her down. She swallowed hard and steeled herself against the unpredictable man. Brahms grabbed the phone, ripping it from the wall, and tossed it down the hall.

For a moment, the urge to sprint out of the house welled up inside her, but she knew he'd easily catch her. She was no Olympic sprinter. Instead, she tried a new tactic. Placing her hands on her hips, squaring her shoulders, she stared him down, refusing to be intimidated by his childish antics. "Temper tantrums will do you no good, Brahms!" She chastised. If he was going to act like a brat, she was going to combat him with stern adult energy. Something flashed in his eyes briefly, his gaze dropping to look away in what she could only assume was shame or possibly regret. Slumping his shoulders, he tucked his hands into his pants pockets. Could it possibly be this easy to control him? Did all it take was calling him out on his behavior? She had to test this theory. "Now... go pick up that phone, and let's finish breakfast." He glanced past her to the phone, laying askew on its side, then back to her. "Now Mister!" She commanded, pointing to the disheveled device. Hunched, he shuffled past her and picked up the phone, plugging it back into the wall and setting it on the table.

"Good boy." The switch flipped again, his head perked up. Eyes sparkling from behind the mask.

'Hmmm' She inwardly smirked, 'looks like I might have found my dangling carrot'.

The rest of the morning went much smoother after breakfast. Brahms happily helped with chores around the house, starting with the clean up of the parlor. She worked hard, vigorously scrubbing Malcolm's blood out of the expensive rug while he moved the furniture back into their rightful place. Then they gathered up the laundry. Brahms even surprised her with a massive pile of his own that he slyly fetched from his hidden hidey hole when she wasn't looking. In turn, she showed him how to use the washing machine and dryer something he had never done before. At every step she made sure to lavish praise on him for every good deed done. Brahms almost glowed with self satisfactory pride at being useful to his 'Nanny'.

Several hours had passed when she pulled out her phone, checking the time " Oh wow, almost lunch time already? " she looked over to Brahms sheepishly. "Guess we missed out on play hour." Brahms shrugged at her, continuing to fold the clean laundry like she showed him. "How...married to the schedule are you?" She reflectively cringed at her poor word choice.

"I like it well enough. But most of it was made for busy work." He answered, matching up a pair of her pink socks. She nodded. "Makes sense. Can't snoop around too much when there's always something to keep me busy... I guess." She pulled out and held up his cardigan, warm and fluffy from the basket. She noted the few holes in it that'd need to be mended at some point, then tossed it over to Brahms. "Fresh from the dryer. It'll warm you up!" He picked it up and looked to her before draping it over her shoulders. "I'm fine. You're clearly colder than I am."

"Thank you." She smiled at him, tugging her arms through the warm woolen sweater and breathing in the fresh scent. She pulled another of her shirts from the basket revealing a pair of her panties right on top. Quickly, she stuffed the shirt back in, covering up her unmentionables. "I'll uh...fold these...in my room..." She paused, "Brahms, you go into the kitchen, pick out something for lunch, I'm thinking soup and sandwiches." She gave him a sweet smile as she snatched the basket and what bit of her clothing was already folded and hurried her way up to her room. As she frantically stuffed her bras and panties into the drawers, keeping an eye out for Brahms, something dawned on her. Hadn't Malcolm said that the police would be calling? That was hours ago. Did they forget? Darting her eyes to the open door ensuring it was safe, she crept over to the rotary phone on her nightstand. Gingerly she lifted the handle and placed it to her ear. Nothing. No dial tone, not even a crackle. It was dead. Could Brahms have cut the line somewhere? She clenched the phone tightly in her hand as if trying to strangle it. "Bastard!" She hissed under her breath slamming the receiver back into it's cradle in frustrated anger. 'He's definitely more diabolical than he lets on'

"You're not leaving."

She whipped around, tucking the phone behind her clumsily. Brahms stood in the door frame, arms stiff at his sides, a stern look in his stormy eyes.

" Brahms... " she breathed. "What have you done?" He strode towards her. His presence imposing. "Only what I had to do." Corralling her with his arms against the stand, masked face mere inches from hers. "HE'S not taking you from me. Nobody... is taking you from me." Her mouth dry, a panic rising up from the pit of her stomach. "Stop trying to leave me." His intense eyes boring into her own. Her lower lip quivered monetarily before she remembered that this was another one of his tantrums. Another way to intimidate her.

"No." It came out quietly but with as much of a defiant tone as she could muster. "I'm not some.. some toy for you to play with, Brahms, or a nanny or a...a mail order bride." She locked in with her gaze, a silent power struggle of wills playing out between them. "You and your parents are crazy." Brahms fists tightened against the stand, his adams apple bobbed as he suppressed his inner rage. "And the first chance I get, I'm leaving this nightmare!" She dipped in attempt to slip out from his caged arms, but he grabbed her elbow to stop her. "Let me go!" She yelled out, struggling in his grasp, but he held tightly to her. The two shuffled around. Her desperate to get away and him desperate to keep her from running. Grabbing the heavy metal phone off the stand, she swung it at the side of his head with all her strength. Brahms collapsed to his knees, hands immediately letting go of her to cup his now gushing ear. He howled out in pain as she fled the bedroom.

"You get back here!" He snarled out from her room as she descended the stairs, taking two at a time. She didn't know where she was going to go, but anywhere was better than where Brahms was right now. 'Maybe I can hide in the wine cellar.' She thought. As she took the next step, her ankle suddenly twisted making her knee give out. Sending her tumbling down the stairs. Her head rammed into the heavy wooden banister as she fell into a crumpled heap on the landing. Struggling to keep going, her one foot slid helplessly against the runner but darkness slowly filled the perimeter of her vision. The last thing she saw was a bloodied Brahms charging down the stairs towards her. A look of absolute panic in his eyes. Unable to keep conscious, her eyes fluttered close, and everything went black.

#the boy 2016 #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #fanfic #not smut #i made this!

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cliftonbathrooms · 6 months ago

Text

How to Choose the Perfect Bathroom Fixtures for Your Home

When it comes to designing or renovating a bathroom, choosing the right bathroom fixtures is crucial to creating a space that is both functional and aesthetically pleasing. The right fixtures can elevate the look and feel of your bathroom, while providing convenience and comfort for everyday use. At Clifton Bathrooms, we understand the importance of selecting high-quality, stylish, and durable bathroom fixtures that meet your needs. In this blog, we will guide you through the essential factors to consider when choosing the perfect bathroom fixtures for your home.

1. Consider Your Bathroom’s Style and Theme

Before you dive into selecting individual fixtures, it’s important to have a clear understanding of your bathroom’s style and theme. Are you going for a modern, minimalist look or a more traditional, elegant design? Your choice of bathroom fixtures should complement the overall theme and atmosphere of your bathroom.

Modern Bathrooms: If you’re aiming for a sleek, contemporary bathroom, opt for fixtures with clean lines, chrome or matte finishes, and simple designs. The Quoss Chrome Reno Transformer Cobra Flex Single Flix Mixer, for example, is a perfect choice for modern bathrooms with its minimalist design and flexible spout.

Traditional Bathrooms: For a classic, timeless look, choose fixtures with more intricate detailing. Go for brass, gold, or oil-rubbed bronze finishes, which add warmth and elegance to the space. Consider traditional basin mixers and towel rails to create a vintage-inspired bathroom.

Spa-Like Bathrooms: If you’re designing a bathroom that feels like a personal retreat, focus on fixtures that create a luxurious experience, such as large rainfall showers, freestanding tubs, and polished chrome faucets. The Quoss Rain Shower Sunflower would be an excellent option to add a spa-like touch to your bathroom.

2. Functionality Matters

While aesthetics are important, bathroom fixtures must also be functional and serve your everyday needs. When selecting your fixtures, consider how they will be used in your daily routine and make sure they are comfortable and easy to operate.

Showerheads and Faucets: Choose showerheads with adjustable settings to allow for a customizable experience. If you prefer a rainfall shower, the Quoss Rain Shower Sunflower provides a large, rectangular head for an immersive shower experience. For faucets, ensure that they have a smooth operation and are easy to control.

Storage Needs: Your bathroom fixtures should also provide ample storage. This is especially important if you have a small bathroom where space is limited. Consider installing towel bars, shelves, or built-in storage solutions along with your fixtures to keep your bathroom tidy and organized.

Water Efficiency: In today’s world, being environmentally conscious is key. Look for fixtures that help conserve water without compromising performance. Many modern faucets, showers, and toilets are designed with water-saving technology to reduce water consumption while still providing great performance.

3. Quality and Durability

The bathroom is a high-traffic area, so you need fixtures that are built to last. Choosing high-quality, durable bathroom fixtures ensures you won’t need to replace them in the near future. Look for trusted brands that offer long-lasting warranties and exceptional quality.

At Clifton Bathrooms, we offer a range of premium bathroom fixtures, such as the Quoss Basin Mixer, designed to withstand daily use while maintaining its beauty and functionality. High-quality materials like stainless steel, brass, and chrome are known for their resistance to corrosion and tarnishing, making them ideal for use in bathrooms where moisture is prevalent.

4. Size and Space Considerations

The size of your bathroom plays a significant role in choosing the right fixtures. A large bathroom offers more flexibility, allowing you to install larger items like a double vanity, a freestanding tub, or an oversized shower. However, if you have a small bathroom, you’ll need to be more strategic in your fixture choices to maximize space.

Compact Bathrooms: For smaller bathrooms, consider space-saving fixtures such as wall-mounted faucets and toilets, which free up floor space. A smaller showerhead, like the Quoss Rain Shower Sunflower, can be a great option for compact bathrooms while still providing a powerful and enjoyable shower experience.

Large Bathrooms: If you have a spacious bathroom, you can afford to go for larger fixtures. A freestanding bathtub, a wide vanity, and a big showerhead can transform your bathroom into an oasis of comfort and luxury.

5. Finishes and Materials

The finish of your bathroom fixtures can make a big difference in the overall aesthetic of the room. Choose finishes that complement your bathroom’s style while being durable and easy to maintain.

Chrome and Polished Finishes: Chrome fixtures are timeless, offering a sleek, modern look that works well in almost any bathroom. They are also highly resistant to corrosion and easy to clean.

Matte Finishes: Matte finishes, such as matte black or brushed nickel, are gaining popularity for their contemporary, understated look. They are also practical as they tend to show fewer water spots and fingerprints compared to polished finishes.

Brass and Bronze: For traditional or vintage-inspired bathrooms, brass and bronze fixtures provide a rich, luxurious touch. These finishes age beautifully and add a sense of warmth and elegance to the bathroom.

Glass and Ceramic Elements: Consider adding glass or ceramic elements, like a ceramic basin or glass shower enclosure, to give your bathroom a light, airy feel. These materials are timeless and easy to maintain.

6. Technology and Innovation

Modern bathroom fixtures now come with innovative technology that enhances both convenience and comfort. When selecting your fixtures, consider options that offer smart features.

Touchless Faucets: Touchless faucets are a great choice for hygienic bathrooms. These faucets automatically turn on and off when they detect motion, helping to reduce water waste and keeping the faucet clean.

Thermostatic Showers: If you enjoy the perfect shower temperature every time, thermostatic shower valves are worth considering. These valves allow you to set and maintain your desired water temperature, making your shower experience more comfortable and consistent.

LED Lighting: Some bathroom fixtures, such as mirrors and showerheads, now come with built-in LED lighting. LED lights not only provide energy efficiency but also create a soothing ambiance in your bathroom.

7. Budget Considerations

Your budget is one of the most important factors to consider when choosing bathroom fixtures. While it’s tempting to go for high-end designer fixtures, it’s essential to choose fixtures that fit within your budget while still meeting your needs. Prioritize key fixtures such as faucets, showerheads, and lighting, and allocate your budget wisely.

At Clifton Bathrooms, we offer a wide range of bathroom fixtures at different price points, ensuring you can find the perfect combination of quality, functionality, and style that fits your budget.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect bathroom fixtures for your home can be a rewarding experience when you consider the style, functionality, quality, and space requirements. By taking into account the factors discussed in this blog, you can make informed decisions and create a bathroom that not only looks beautiful but also meets your practical needs. At Clifton Bathrooms, we offer a diverse range of high-quality, stylish bathroom fixtures to help you create your dream bathroom. Whether you’re renovating or building from scratch, our selection of premium products, including the Quoss Basin Mixer and Quoss Rain Shower Sunflower, can elevate your bathroom to new heights.

Start your bathroom journey with Clifton Bathrooms today and find the perfect fixtures to complement your home!

#australia #home #bathroom #kitchen #appliances #clifton

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paddockbunny · 2 years ago

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List B + [Necklace]+ Fernando Alonso

“I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck not because he owns me but cuz he really knows me, which is more than they can say”

The Present

Summary : You thought you would have to spend your special day alone. So when your boyfriend surprises you more than once, you have to show him how much it means to you. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Fernando Alonso x Reader Word Count : 2,221 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, PinV sex, unprotected sex, implied age gap but not explicitly stated Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List B. Prompt : Necklace - sender fastens a necklace around receiver’s neck, leaning in close to do so.

You had spent the whole day out doing things to avoid the fact you were spending your birthday alone. Fernando’s flight had been cancelled so he hadn’t been able to get home this morning like the pair of you expected. The next flight home hadn’t been until this afternoon either which meant he wouldn’t be home for another 12 hours yet.

You poured yourself a glass of your favourite wine and decided to go run a bath. If you were going to be home alone on what was supposed to be your special day, then you were at least going to have a nice relaxing time doing things you loved. After turning on the faucet, sprinkling in some soothing bath salts and lavender scented bubble bath you let the water run so the temperature of the water was nice at hot. While the roll top bath (the very one Fernando had actually installed for you on your last birthday as a surprise) began to slowly fill you went back through to fetch a fresh silk chemise from the drawer in the bedroom. You never wore anything to bed, not usually. There wasn’t much point when sleeping beside Fernando. Other than the fact the pair of you had sex like teenagers, he tended to run hot so cuddling into him was like holding on to a furnace. Tonight however, as you were solo, you decided to fling something on to feel a little special.

While rubbing your coconut scented body lotion into your calves you phone pinged on the marble counter top. The screen illuminated with Fernando’s name and you grabbed it quickly.

Good news, should arrive home earlier than planned. I’m sorry it’s still a day late corazón x

Ok, mi amor. Just hurry home x

I promise I will make it up to you x

Just being here will be enough x

You ached to feel Fernando’s arms around you. You longed to feel his hands on your skin or running through your hair. You desperately yearned to have him here kissing you because nobody kissed as good as Fernando did.

Grabbing your phone and your nearly empty glass of wine you padded from the bathroom, through the bedroom and out down the stairs to go refill your glass. You had the whole evening to kill and no idea on how to do it. But wine was a very good start at least. You turned down the corridor and toward the kitchen but something caught your eye. Fernando’s car was sitting in the driveway.“Surprise!”

A scream loud enough to wake the dead left your body but the sudden shock and alarm was immediately replaced by utter excitement and sheer happiness. “Corazón….” Fernando’s arms went around you tightly as you practically leapt into them. “How did you get here?” You asked when it dawned on you that he had to have already landed at the airport when he was texting you after you got out of the bath. He knew all along he was going to come surprise you. “Max.” Of course. The champion has a jet. It was very kind of him to offer the boyfriend you were tightly holding on to a lift home so he could make it home in time. Which, as he pulled back and gently caressed your cheek he wished you a happy birthday before placing his lips to yours tenderly. Fuelled by genuine shock, pure happiness and a little bit of lust your hands pushed through his hair and hungrily leaned into the kiss. Fernando took your hint and you felt his grip on your sides tighten. You groaned straight into his mouth when his tongue danced along yours. “Wait…wait…” Fernando stopped you, halted your actions when your hand travelled down toward his jeans. “Don’t you want your present?” “That IS my present.” You glanced down to where you were heading before he stopped you. The action o only made him laugh as his hands left your body and he turned to go to his bag. Watching him you wondered what he could have possibly brought you back from a race weekend. The thought of some silly little gift from the airport passed through your brain before wondering if it was going to be more of a gaffe gift and he was going to give you some Aston Martin merch. But your eyes couldn’t help but widen when you saw the distinct shape of a jewellery box.

Fernando turned and apologised for having not wrapped your gift but as he held it out for you to take you couldn’t care less if it were covered in some pointless paper. You took the black velvet from his hands and into your own as is eyes remained on yours. His smile broadened and he encouraged you to open the lid to your gift. Excitement buzzed throughout your body but you controlled it long enough to slowly push up the lid on the square box. And you had to try even harder to control it once you finally saw exactly what was inside.

“Fer” The diamonds shone bright in the darkness of the room. A single row of stunning multi cut diamonds set in silver. It was the most exquisite thing you had ever seen and nowhere near what he should have been spending on you but he loved spoiling you. Words failed to come to your head. You couldn’t think of a single way to say thank-you for a gift that took your breath away even though you tried. Your fingers ghosted across the ice like gems.

“Let me put it on you.” He took the box, lifted the line of diamonds from its home and motioned for you to turn around so he could place them upon your neck. You did as Fernando wished. You turned, lifting your hair out of the way for him as you did so. The precious stones delicately slid across your skin as they were placed upon your neck. Fernando’s hot breath caressed the sensitive flesh behind your ear as he clipped the clasp in place. Your throat tightened as a lump formed in it. You felt rather emotional knowing such a work of art now belonged to you. Then you felt Fernando’s lips press against your bare shoulder and you realised how you could thank him.

You turned, hands going back to his shoulders, as you looked into his eyes. God, how you loved Fernando’s eyes. They were the colour of freshly brewed coffee and the way the soft glowing light hit them they practically shone. Eyes locked together, you stepped backward away from him. One step, two, three, enough so that he could see all of you as you pulled down the straps of your chemise. It met no resistance as it fell straight down to the floor and pooled at your feet. Fernando broke eye contact to slowly cast his gaze upon your naked body before him. “Make love to me in them, Fer”

Fernando didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds of your request he had you in his arms and his mouth upon yours. His kiss was feverish and hungry. Triple headers were tough on your man but they were equally as tough on you. You craved him and you knew how badly he craved you. The second Fernando tugged on your hair and your body crumpled against him you felt just how badly he needed you. So it was no surprise when his hands trailed down your sides, down your butt and to your thighs. He lifted you up, clean off the floor, and pulled both your legs around his waist in a display of pure strength. What was even more impressive was how he effortlessly carried you upstairs to your bedroom without even breaking the feverish kiss the pair of you were locked in.

When you were finally there, Fernando let go of you and dumped you straight on to the bed behind you, just like he had done so many times before. The small delighted squeal that left your lips only served to encourage him. He pulled off his dark green team polo and chucked it away from himself. His tanned skin looked like caramel and you so desperately wanted a taste. You sat up and reached your hands out to help him remove the dark trousers but he playfully swatted your hands away. “You never let me remove yours” He mockingly scoffed but you knew he was only trying to be mischievous. Fernando rid himself of the remainder of his clothing promptly. There wasn’t any time for patience. Not now. Not when you were naked before him and growing increasingly more and more hungry by the second. You laid back and pulled your legs up slightly and let them fall apart. You knew how much Fernando loved seeing how wet you got for him. He loved seeing your slick wet folds awaiting him. And he was cocky about the fact he did’t even need to touch you, you were always so wet for him. He made a guttural moan when he saw you eagerly awaiting him. And you practically mimicked it right back when he was finally free and you saw how hard he was for you.

Fernando’s hands made their way up your legs as he crawled on top of your body. His lips colliding with different parts of your skin as he went. He kissed your hip softly, ghosted his tongue up your stomach, enveloped the soft peak of your nipple in his mouth as you arched your back in delight. “These diamonds are beautiful. But not as beautiful as you.” He tells you lazily as he settles between your thighs. You didn’t have time to answer him. He ran himself up and down your folds before he finally gave you what you wanted most, himself.

Fernando buried himself inside you. Every beautiful thrust was more powerful than the last and you never failed to adore the delicious fullness you felt while he fucked you. But tonight he wasn’t fucking you. No tonight he was taking his time. Every roll of his hips was deliberate. He made sure to make you feel his love and how much he adored you. Your fingers wound through his dark hair and you brought his full lips to yours. Moaning straight into them as he angled himself just right. Hitting the sweet spot inside you repeatedly. His name fell from your lips as your own collided as it flowed from him.

You were close to the edge. Dangerously close to tipping straight into the land of pure pleasure. Fernando always took you there. He knew every single sign that you were ready for the high and used it to his advantage. He spoke words into your ear; “I love you”, “let go for me”, “I can feel how close you are”

And he wasn’t wrong. Only moments later Fernando took you there. You felt like you were flying you were that euphoric. The orgasm was deep, powerful. It was almost as if your body was exploding for him. Fernando kept his pace up as you tightened and pulsed around him. His body practically begged yours to release him. His breathy, low, mumbled moans gave away how close he was himself. You clutched on to his strong muscular shoulders as finally, you felt him come undone inside of you.

You stayed connected, entwined even after he pulled out and rolled off to the bed beside you. His hand splayed over your stomach first before working up to rest on your chest. Watching him you realised he was staring at the gift he had given you. The one that led you here, to bed, in a orgasmic basked high

“What are you thinking?” You asked plainly before smoothing out his hair. God you loved his hair. It was so full and soft. It felt like silk under your fingertips. But you loved how little strands had begun to lighten, turn grey. It always reminded you of how safe you felt with him. He was a man, a real man, who loved nothing more than taking care of you. You were nearly lost in the thought of how much you loved being in love with Fernando when he finally admitted what was on his mind. “What you will let me do to you if I buy you the matching earrings.” His words made you laugh. They couldn’t not. The juxtaposition between you lying half in his arms thinking about how much you were in love with him and him hungry for more, still thinking about sex with you, pretty much summed the pair of you up. It was why you worked.

“Well, I haven’t thanked you yet for managing to get home today and surprising me.” You ran your fingertip along the diamonds that sat upon your neck so delicately before pushing him backward so he was flat on the mattress. He laughed smugly as his hands ran up and down your thighs after you straddled him. He had made love to you. But now, you were going to fuck him, exactly how he liked.

#Fernando Alonso #fernando alonso imagine #Fernando Alonso fanfic #Fernando Alonso one shot #Fernando Alonso x reader #Fernando Alonso x you #Fernando Alonso x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction

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