#my favorite thing about these is that it looks like she’s copying the face on the pancakes
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Our Latest Book Club Meeting
[Before we begin: Rook is a Qunari Shadow Dragon with some self-worth issues going on]
Attending: Bellara, Neve, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich (also Taash, and Davrin, sort of)
Book: Adventures of Dolor the Daring, Volume 48, by I. L. Literatus (chosen by Neve)
Notes taken by: Bellara
Notes:
Bellara (me) was quite surprised (and also excited!!!) that Neve chose a crime serial, as she seemed skeptical about those before
Neve admitted that she selected the book not for the plot, not really (though she was complimentary of it, especially Dolor’s final confrontation with the corrupt magister), but because she suspects the author might be… Rook!
Lucanis was first to break the stunned silence afterwards; asked why she thinks that
“Any excuse to hear me talk, hmm, Lucanis?” oh this one is good, must write that down Neve explained that it’s “rather suspicious how the mysterious I. L. Literatus took an extended break from writing the moment we all got tangled up in Solas’ mess, and then showed up again, just as Rook got injured in that fight with the Antaam and had to take a bit of downtime”
Bellara (me) pointed out that it could be a coincidence (mostly to try and ground myself for disappointment, because WOULDN’T IT BE INCREDIBLE IF ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE WROTE ONE OF MY FAVORITE SERIALS). Sorry
Harding joined in; recalled how the rooftop chase between two burning buildings was almost an exact match for how she, Rook and Varric hurried to rescue Neve on the day when… things happened. Down to the shortcuts they took!
Neve added another detail: apparently, she and Rook were once looking for clues in Docktown, and Rook paused to look up at the sky and say that it looked like a “miserable grey towel that the black claws of the Archon’s palace would not stop wringing”. This was the same description as in the serial’s opening scene! Neve never forgets a thing, she is amazing
Lucanis conceded: he was more convinced now. Realized that “Scorpion”, a mysterious cloaked figure who helps Dolor investigate evil mages, might have been inspired by Viper.
Bellara (me) also realized something! Viper is in the story, but Tarquin isn’t! That’s because the Venatori already know about him, from rumors at least, so mentioning him in a serial in passing would not compromise him… But nobody knows about Tarquin! Rook is protecting him!
Taash was passing by on their way upstairs; but stopped and said, more or less (with a lot more “vashedan” thrown in): “Nah, I read a couple those. Hid them in my Advanced Qunlat textbook so I’d look smart when my mother checked on me. That can’t be Rook. Dolor is nonbinary too, but Lit-Whatsit keeps saying that they always knew who they were, were always confident about that. Rook wasn’t always confident. They struggled, like me.”
Neve disagreed. Noted that Dolor might not be a one-on-one copy of Rook, but an idealized version with all the “right” feelings Rook wished they had. Also listed all the places where Dolor gets excited to play their role as a fighter against cultists and blood mages, and the city’s protector. They are human, an everyday citizen of Minrathous who fits in so very well among everyone… But that’s a very Qunari way of putting it. And that’s something that always bothered Rook.
Some notes had to be copied over at this point, because the “OH!” sound Harding made toppled over some of our mugs, and they spilled all over the paper! Maybe the stone floor reacted to her? No harm done, really! (Harding, stop worrying)
Harding put things together and asked Neve if I. L. Literatus, or Illiteratus, means anything in Tevene. Neve confirmed it means what it sounds like in Trade: Illiterate. Rook must have a very low opinion of their writing skills (doodle of a sad Bellara face)
Davrin (??? He said he wouldn’t be joining, he had more important things to do, like train Assan??? But there he was???) walked (or sauntered! sauntered is a good word! swaggered even!) up to the table. Asked: “If the author is Rook, and Dolor is Rook but without all their worst thoughts, then what do we make of Flosculus?”
On Flosculus! Bellara (me that is, it’s getting awkward talking in third person for so long) wrote this down while there was another long, long pause. He is a new character that just got introduced in this volume. An older lowborn mage that worked hard to earn a place in the Minrathous Circle, despite the contempt from the greedy, cruel Altus nobles that Dolor usually defeats on their adventures. He is very tall, only a “hand’s length” below an average Qunari warrior (which is just about the height difference between Rook and Emmrich), and his face “might have been fairly good-looking when he was younger, but was chiseled into an elegant, dignified handsomeness with age… Truly, time had treated him with the same kindness as he treated those around him”. I really liked him; he does remind me a lot of Emmrich, with his love for flowers, and his wealth of advice on all things arcane, and his eagerness to see the best in people… And you (well, me at least) can’t help but notice how the story, which is usually all about magic duels and human sacrifices and screaming matches with crazy cultists on top of piles of bones, grows softer whenever he is on the page. Like stepping in from a hailstorm to a cozy room with a burning hearth. But then… then, at the very end of the volume, Dolor realizes that they have been developing a crush on him, and decides never to tell him about it because he does not like them back. Which the author praises them for because it’s “the right thing to do”. Dolor always knows the right thing to do.
Book club meeting adjourned here. No dice were thrown to decide who’s next. Because Emmrich, first very pale and then very pink, got up without a word and ran off somewhere.
THAT BETTER BE TOWARDS ROOK’S ROOM!
Sorry.
#dragon age#da:tv#emmrook#bellara lutare#neve gallus#lace harding#lucanis dellamorte#taash#davrin#emmrich volkarin#rook mercar#original things
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breakfast with the bestest big brother ever !
#ts4#ts4 gameplay#sims 4 gameplay#postcard legacy challenge#my favorite thing about these is that it looks like she’s copying the face on the pancakes#she follows adriens around like a little duckling 🥺#she’s started to ask for him to paint her nails so they can match#her nails are painted a pale pink but now they look weird out of cas 😞#postcard: gen2#queue#sim: adrien herrera#sim: juliette han-avagyan
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RIDE OR DIE .ᐟ
in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.
▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader
▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+
▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf
▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3
▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨
After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it.
Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it.
He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground.
That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.
Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.
And there can’t be anything truer than that.
“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.
Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”
As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.
“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”
Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”
“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.
You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.
In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.
He gave it a minute or so for you to realize.
5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him.
“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.
As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”
“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”
Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”
Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”
“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”
“Thanks, baby.”
You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”
He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”
But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”
“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”
You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.”
Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”
“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute.
“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm.
You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!”
“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you.
“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”
How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.”
Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along.
“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”
His lips curved into a smile. ��Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”
“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.”
Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”
“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”
You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”
He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”
“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”
What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”
“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.”
“Good response, baby. You have taste.”
As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic.
“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”
Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!”
Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish.
“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.”
Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.”
The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.”
“Shut it.”
“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”
Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence.
Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”
“Cool,” the other biker replied.
Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”
As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.
He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene.
“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute.
“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”
Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.
Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?
He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration.
With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.
Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride.
“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”
The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.”
While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.
The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”
Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious.
The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.
You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”
The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”
Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”
“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.
His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”
“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”
Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”
With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.”
The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.”
Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”
“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”
You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”
~~
By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.
“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.
Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”
“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”
Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”
It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future.
For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.
“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”
His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”
You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you.
If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.
Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore.
The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.
“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.”
“You know what I meant by that, baby.”
The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.”
“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.”
Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.”
You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.”
“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.”
“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.”
Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”
“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.”
He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.”
A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”
He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?”
You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”
He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?”
Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.”
Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?”
“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.
“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.”
Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.
You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.
You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.
“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.
Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move.
You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.
Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.
“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”
He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.
“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”
As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”
“Lovey, w-wait.”
“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter.
“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.”
The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!”
He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance.
Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”
You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.
“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”
It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.
Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”
“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.”
You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.”
He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.”
In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.
You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”
“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”
He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”
Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”
You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”
“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.
“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”
Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”
~~
The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place.
“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?”
With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word.
You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.
YOU: love, where are you?
YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say
The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me?
“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?”
You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him?
That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.
So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.
“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.
You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason.
Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.
“Hey, baby—”
“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!”
Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.”
You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?”
“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”
Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.
“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?
But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?
Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”
You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.
“Meow~”
“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”
You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”
Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”
At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”
Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”
“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.”
Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.”
“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.”
What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?”
Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind.
“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?”
~~
The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.
“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!”
“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.”
“Like my cock?”
“Stop it.”
Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”
Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard.
“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.”
“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?”
You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.
“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”
Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”
You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”
“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.
He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”
With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”
Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”
#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#sukuna fluff#biker sukuna#biker au#biker bf sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk x you#biker boy x book girl#jjk smut#jjk fluff
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── ୨୧ ! 5 TIMES CHRIS AND Y/N WERE CAUGHT KISSING
chris sturniolo x reader
SUMMARY: Where a fan creates a 5-minute video with all the times that Chris and Y/N were caught kissing.
WARNING: Making-out.
REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
Chris and Y/N sat side by side on the plush couch in the living room. They were half-watching a movie that had been playing for the past hour, but neither of them was truly invested. Chris's arm was draped lazily around Y/N's shoulders, his thumb drawing idle circles on her upper arm. It was one of those rare, peaceful evenings where they could just relax and enjoy each other's company, without the usual hustle and bustle of filming or the pressure of content creation hanging over Chris head.
Y/N was scrolling through her TikTok, a small smile playing on her lips as she came across fan edits and posts dedicated to Chris and his brothers. Her fingers stopped suddenly, her eyes widening as she stopped on a video with the caption: "Top 5 Times Chris and Y/N Were Caught Kissing in the Background." She let out a small laugh, nudging Chris's shoulder to get his attention.
"Baby, look at this." She muttered, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and shyness. She turned the phone screen towards him, and his brows shot up in surprise as he read the title.
"Are you serious?" He asked, a grin spreading across his face as he leaned closer to get a better view. "I didn't even know we were caught that many times."
Y/N pressed play, and the screen lit up with the fan edit.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
1. Baking Blind, Deaf and Mute. (Two Times)
The first clip was from a Baking Blind, Deaf, and Mute challenge, recorded when the triplets had visited their parents in Boston for their birthday.
The video opened with Nick standing in the foreground with Matt by his side, leaning casually on the marble table, his hands gesturing animatedly as he explained how that video would be with the participation of Y/N. His voice was filled with that signature mix of enthusiasm and sarcasm as usual.
As Nick continued to lay out the idea, the camera caught slightly Chris and Y/N in the background, standing by the fridge. Chris was holding a spatula in the air like a sword while staring at Y/N, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a playful grin tugged at his lips.
Next to him, Y/N was meticulously reading the ingredients list, ignoring his playful manner successfully, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to memorize the steps, fully aware that she wouldn’t be able to see anything in a few minutes.
The atmosphere was light and filled with anticipation, the kind that comes with knowing things were about to descend into playful chaos. Matt and Nick were already debating loudly over what constituted a valid ingredient while picking the necessary ones from the cabinets, their voices a blend of mock seriousness and barely-contained laughter.
But then, probably with the hope of being hidden behind his brothers' back, Chris leaned closer to Y/N, his shoulder brushing against hers. The gesture was subtle, almost as if he were seeking her out in the midst of the noise, a quiet connection just for them. Y/N looked up from the list, her eyes meeting his, and a soft laugh escaped her, the sound so gentle that the camera barely picked it up.
Listening to his favorite sound, Chris, with his eyes sparkling with mischief, turned fully toward Y/N. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear that drew another quiet laugh from her - just like his goal -, her smile wide and genuine, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Chris dipped his head and pressed a quick, tender kiss to her lips. It was brief, a mere brush of lips, but the affection behind it was palpable. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she ducked her head, pretending to be engrossed in the ingredients list once more, though the small, secretive smile playing at her lips betrayed her.
Meanwhile, Matt started trying to talk to the camera, his voice raised to make sure the viewers could hear him over Nick's teasing.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
2. DTI
The second clip was from a particularly memorable livestream that Matt and Chris had done from Matt’s room. They had recently started playing a game called Dress to Impress, and after recording a small video for their YouTube channel where they played the game for the first time, it quickly became their newest obsession.
Y/N had been hanging out in the room during the stream, perched comfortably on Nick's chair off-camera. Although she wasn’t actively participating in the game, her presence was felt in subtle ways; every now and then, a hand would appear on the edge of the screen, holding out a bottle of water, an energy drink or a bowl of snacks for the boys. Each time, Chris would glance away from the screen just long enough to offer her a grateful smile or a quick thank you before returning to the chaos on Matt's monitor.
On this particular moment, the livestream had taken an amusing turn. Matt was deeply engrossed in a competition against another player who had, to his disbelief, apparently copied his entire outfit design. His face was a mix of shock and indignation, his voice rising with every word as he expressed his frustration.
Chris couldn’t help but laugh loudly. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he listened to his brother’s angry words, his eyes focused on the screen.
It was in this moment that Y/N leaned forward, her face suddenly appearing in the corner of the camera. She moved quietly, almost as if she was sneaking up on Chris, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned in close to him, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered softly - something about 'knowing that Matt would win either way, since he - Chris - was the creative mind who helped creating the outfit'.
Chris’s reaction was immediate. The playful grin he had been wearing just moments before softened into something warmer, more affectionate. He turned his head slightly, meeting Y/N’s gaze with a look that was full of amusement. Without a second thought, he leaned in, catching her lips in a quick, sweet kiss. The kiss was fleeting, lasting only a second before Y/N pulled back, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she disappeared back into the background.
The moment was so brief that it could have easily gone unnoticed, especially with Matt’s voice still rising as he ranted about the blatant theft of his outfit. But their fans were nothing if not observant. The chat lit up almost instantly, viewers flooding the comments with a mixture of excitement and teasing.
Despite his attempts to play it cool, Chris couldn’t help the faint blush that crept up his cheeks. The tips of his ears turned pink as he tried to brush off the attention, focusing back on the game with a slightly embarrassed laugh.
"Alright, alright, focus on Matt, not me." He said, trying to redirect the conversation, though his smile never wavered.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
3. Fortnite Late Night
The third clip captured a moment during one of Matt and Chris's late-night gaming streams, "Fortnite Late Night." Each brother was in his own bedroom, Chris’s camera angled perfectly to frame his upper body, revealing a glimpse of his bed in the background, the soft light from his monitor casting a cool, blue glow over the room.
Meanwhile, Y/N had been upstairs, finishing up in the kitchen. The quiet house amplified the sound of her soft footsteps as she went to the stairs, heading towards the room she shared with Chris.
When Y/N reached the end of the steps and stepped into their bedroom, she found Chris completely engrossed in the game. His posture was tense, shoulders slightly hunched forward, eyes fixed on the screen with an intense concentration. The dim lighting highlighted his features - his lips were slightly parted, pink and plump, forming a small, unintentional pout, and his dark brown eyebrows were knitted together in focus.
He didn’t notice her at first, his mind fully absorbed in the game, but Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked in his concentrated state.
She was ready to crawl into bed, exhausted from the day, but there was one thing she had to do before she could even think about sleep. It was a nightly ritual at this point. No matter how tired she was, Y/N couldn’t fall asleep without saying goodnight to Chris.
Moving with sleepy steps, she walked over to where he sat. Chris didn’t need to look up to know she was there; he could sense her presence. As she leaned over the back of his chair, he could feel the soft brush of her hair against his neck, a comforting sensation that made him momentarily forget about the game.
"Goodnight, honey." Y/N whispered softly, her voice low and gentle, meant only for his ears. But her words, though quiet, were picked up by his sensitive microphone, echoing faintly through the livestream, reaching the ears of the hundreds of fans watching.
Without hesitation, and without any regard for the live audience, Chris tilted his head back, silently asking for his goodnight kiss. It was an instinctual, almost automatic gesture. Y/N, smiling at his adorable demand, obliged him, leaning down to press her lips against his in a tender, familiar kiss.
The angle was a bit awkward, the kiss upside down, but it didn’t matter, it was soft and unhurried.
On the other end of the game, Matt was fully aware of what had just happened. The sudden silence from Chris’s side was enough of a giveaway, and when he glanced at the small preview screen showing Chris’s camera, he saw it all. Matt smirked but kept his eyes on the game, unfazed by the interruption - he had grown used to these moments.
"Dude." Matt finally spoke up after Y/N’s figure disappeared behind Chris’s back, his tone dripping with teasing exasperation. "Can’t you keep your PDA for when we’re not live?"
Chris didn’t even flinch. With a lazy grin spreading across his face, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic.
"Sorry, couldn’t help it." He replied, his voice light and carefree. The grin on his face said it all - he wasn’t sorry at all.
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4. hello world
It had been a late-night gaming session - again -, one of those times when Chris and Matt were fully immersed in it, talking to fans while navigating through Dress to Impress. The energy in Chris’s room was electric, with his monitors casting a blue glow that bathed everything in a dim light. His headset was on, and he was deeply focused, his eyes glued to the screen.
But the concentration was constantly broken by Chris’s rumbling stomach and the string of complaints that followed.
"Ugh, I’m so hungry." He groaned into the mic, making a face. "Seriously, I could eat a whole pizza right now."
Matt laughed on the other end of the line, his voice crackling through the headphones.
"Dude, we just had dinner like three hours ago."
"Yeah, and?" Chris shot back, pausing for a second to take a sip of his energy drink. "That was hours ago. I’m starving. Hey chat, send food!" He laughed at his own joke, glancing over at the live comments.
Little did Chris know, Y/N was watching the livestream from the living room. She’d been lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone, when she heard his complaints. A smile spread across her face as an idea formed in her mind. She knew Chris’s favorite takeout place just down the street and decided to surprise him.
She slipped on a pair of sneakers, grabbed her keys, and headed out. The whole trip took barely fifteen minutes. When she returned, the aroma of Chris’s favorite meal wafted through the bag she was carrying, and she made her way quietly up the stairs to their room.
Chris was still completely absorbed in his game, his back to the door. He didn’t notice when she slipped in, the door clicking softly behind her. Y/N could hear him talking to his brother, still complaining about his hunger, completely oblivious to her presence.
She smiled to herself, holding back a giggle as she crept closer. She set the bag down on his desk next to his keyboard, the movement catching his attention. Chris looked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Y/N standing there, holding out the takeout bag with a grin.
"Hey." She whispered, leaning in close so the mic wouldn’t pick up her voice - unsuccessfully. "I heard you were hungry."
Chris’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He pulled off his headset, letting it hang around his neck, and stretched out his arms to catch the bag from her.
"Oh my God, you’re the best." He said, his voice low and filled with genuine affection. He opened the bag, inhaling deeply, and let out a content sigh. "You got my favorite!"
Y/N nodded, her smile growing wider.
"I know you too well."
Without another word, Chris set the bag down and reached out, pulling Y/N into his arms, forcing her to bent her upper body. He didn’t care that the stream was still going or that his brother and the fans were waiting. In that moment, all he could think about was how thoughtful and sweet she was. He tilted his head up, capturing her lips in a deep, grateful kiss.
Y/N kissed him back, her hands resting on his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sweatpants.
It wasn’t until they broke apart that Chris remembered they were still live. He glanced over at his screen, the chat scrolling so fast it was a blur, and he could see the comments exploding.
Chris laughed, picking up his headset and sliding it back on.
"Sorry, guys." He said into the mic, a huge grin on his face. "Got a little distracted there. Y/N just brought me food, so, uh, I’m gonna eat while we keep playing."
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5. We became dad's for 24 hours!!! (to eggs)
The last clip was one of a quiet, intimate moment captured during one of the boys' more absurd challenges: taking care of an egg as if it were their own child for 24 hours.
It was the middle of the early morning, the clock barely ticking past 3 AM, when the sound of three simultaneous alarms pierced the stillness of the house. The sharp, grating beeps echoed through the rooms, signaling that it was time for them to wake up and "feed" their eggs.
The absurdity of the situation was only amplified by the ungodly hour, the boys' groggy voices muttering incoherently as they stumbled around, trying to remember where they had left their fragile "children".
Y/N, who had been curled up in bed, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep, found herself jolted awake by the noise. Her eyelids were heavy, barely lifting as she pushed herself up from the bed.
Dressed in one of Chris's oversized T-shirt that hung loosely over her frame and a pair of soft pajama shorts, she looked the very picture of someone who had been dragged from sleep far too early. Her hair was tousled, a wild halo around her face, and her eyes were half-closed as she shuffled out of the room.
She used the commotion as an excuse to get a drink of water, her feet moving on autopilot as she padded quietly into the kitchen. The house was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of the moon filtering through the big window and the faint blue light of the fridge as she pulled it open.
The boys’ sleepy voices floated to her from the living room, muffled but distinct, each of them trying to outdo the other in their groggy banter about their "kids".
Chris was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, his body sinking into the cushions, looking cozy yet disheveled. His legs were stretched out, feet propped up on the coffee table, and his head was tilted back, his eyes blinking slowly as he tried to stay awake. He was mumbling something about the challenge, his words barely coherent.
Y/N, still in her sleepy haze, wandered toward them, her footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. The coolness of the water bottle in her hand provided a small comfort as she made her way toward Chris, passing by Matt’s legs, narrowly avoiding his outstretched foot, and maneuvered around the coffee table until she stood in front of her boyfriend.
Chris’s gaze followed her movements, his tired eyes lighting up slightly as he watched her approach. His arms opened wide, almost instinctively, inviting her into his embrace without needing to say a word. There was a small, sleepy smile on his lips, one that matched the one Y/N gave him as she stepped closer. The moment was quiet, almost dreamlike, the world around them fading into the background as she climbed over his legs and nestled into his lap.
She settled herself against him, her legs folded up on the couch as her body molded against his. The right side of her body pressed against his chest, and she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her. Her head found its place on his shoulder, her nose nuzzling gently against the exposed skin of his neck.
Chris’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, causing Y/N to smile against his neck, feeling the warmth of his breath on her skin, and she tilted her head back just enough to look up at him.
Almost automatically, Chris leaned down again, their lips meeting in a soft, lazy kiss. It was gentle, a mere brush of lips, but it was enough to make Y/N’s heart flutter.
When they pulled back, Y/N let out a small sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she nestled back into the curve of his neck. Chris held her close, his hand resting on her back, his thumb stroking gently up and down in a soothing rhythm, letting his brothers finish what they wanted to say before going to bed again.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The video ended, and Y/N hit pause before it replayed again by itself, looking up at Chris, who was leaning back with a satisfied smile.
"Wow." She started, dragging out the word. "Look at you, Mister Romantic."
Chris shrugged, unabashed.
"What can I say? When you've got a girlfriend as amazing as you, you just... can't help yourself."
Y/N, sitting up and adjusting her position, rolled her eyes but smiled, her cheeks tinged pink.
"You’re such a dork." She muttered, but there was affection in her voice.
"And you love it." Chris shot back, leaning down, pressing a kiss to her temple, and Y/N couldn't help but smile, leaning into his touch.
"I really do."
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extra - comments:
"this compilation was the perfect one to prove what the boys said about chris being the only one who would make-out with his girlfriend in front of everyone 😭"
"stop, the way chris looks at Y/N in every clip???? ugh, I NEED this 😩"
"forget the baking, chris and Y/N's little kiss right there? too cute omg"
"okay but that livestream moment when Y/N brings chris food 😭 she's so thoughtful and caring ;(("
"chris and Y/N in the background just being all lovey-dovey while matt and nick are doing their thing is EVERYTHING!!! they’re so in love it hurts 🥺"
"honestly, I’m all here for how they’re always caught kissing like they forget the cameras are on 😞"
"chris couldn't even focus on the game anymore after Y/N kissed him LMAOOO, he's down bad, guys"
"STOP IT RIGHT NOW!! Y/N laying on chris lap while they do their thing with their eggs omg 🤧🤧 they're so precious"
#chris sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturiolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader fluff#chris sturniolo x reader smut#chris sturniolo x fem reader#chris sturniolo x y/n#chris fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo x yn#chris sturniolo x fem#fluff#cute#youtube compilation
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Like Mother, Like Daughter: Simon Riley
Call Of Duty Masterlist
word count: 400
description: in which you and ghost have a baby girl who loves to copy your facial expressions
You always wore how you were feeling on your face, everyone could tell what mood you were in based on your facial expressions. It was one of the many things Simon loved about you, considering he was so stoic and neutral faced something that he learns from his years in the military.
When you and Simon had your baby girl Liliana, you two always fought about her favorite was and who she favored more which was clearly you. But the one thing she loved to do was copy anything and everything you were doing including your facial expressions.
Simon found it hilarious when you would be glaring at someone graves for example and babygirl would try and copy or whenever you were mad him, he would not only have one set of eyes glaring at him but his own babygirl glaring at him because her mom was. But the moments you were happy and in a good mood, he would find that smile he fell in love with duplicated on y'all's mini which made his heart grow.
You rolled your eyes at the sight of Graves, making a displeased sound at seeing the man as you adjusted Lilly on your hip. Liliana saw this and immediately tried rolling her eyes at Graves and making a noise of disapproval before giving him her best side eye that she learned from her mama.
Now the guys had heard stories about Lily copying you're facial expressions but never truly got to see it until today and their reactions didn't disappoint. Kyle was barely keeping together upon witnessing this. Now Soap couldn't hold it together at the sight of Liliana try to copy you at the sight of Graves and ended up laughing at the sight.
"Ghost...does she always do this?" Price asked looking at you and Lily who were still side eyeing Graves.
"Always. Anything mama does, she copies." He said with a smile.
"Like mother, like daughter." Price said with a smile as he looked over at you and Lily. Simon smiled at his comment before making his way over to where you guys were standing gently pulling your attention away from Graves and towards him.
"That's my mama and babygirl." Simon said pressing a kiss to Lilly's forehead and then one on your lips.
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#call of duty#simon riley#simon riley imagine
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My favorite headcanon about gods and the mortals is that gods never understand how fragile humans are and don't understand how deep god's touches go through mortal's skin. (or simply don't care)
Athena will make Diomedes's grip on his spear stronger pushing his fingers tighter and almost breaking his bones. She fixes his position making his stance perfect, but human's body was never able to get into position this perfect so his muscles will be tearing and his bones will be cracking just to be instantly healed. When Athena removes her hands, his body will be covered in bruises.
Odysseus will always feel burning and at the same time freezing gaze on his back while Athena watches him across the battlefield. His ears will be filled with her breath and whisper, that will ring in his head long after she ended speaking. She will help him shot an arrow, and he will feel his joints moving in the way they were never supposed to move.
When Apollo turns all the spears and arrows away from the Hector he will still feel them digging into his flash. Apollo will raise him from the dust again and again, and Hector won't be able to stand without hearing god's voice in his ears and feeling god's burning touch on his shoulders. He closes his eyes and still sees the light.
Helen will stand tall to speak up to Paris, and Aphrodite will place her hands on Helen's shoulders to remind her of goddess's presence and this flaming grip will weight as heavy as ten years of war. Aphrodite will wash Helen's face so her skin will shine brighter and eyes will haunt every man in the room, and the only thing Helen feels is her skin freezing from the coldness of Aphrodite's hands.
And those touches won't end with battle or even with war. Every time Diomedes fights he will feel his body taking the exact position Athena once made him in, his limbs will come into shape they were never meant to be in, without deforming cause Athena already fixed them, once she already designed him according to her vision. Every time Odysseus lies his words will echo in his head just like Athena's words did before, every time he uses a bow, arrow in his hands will feel like a burning torch or like an ice, and his joints and tendons will sing in a perfect copy of the song Athena made them perform inside his body on the battlefield. Every time Helen will square her shoulders to feel herself more confident she will feel burning touch on her chin pushing it up and freezing breath in her hair. She will look at her husband and shadow of tight grip on her shoulders will become shadow of sharp nails digging into her skin, holding her in place.
Even dying at Achilles's hands and falling to the ground Hector would still hear an order in his head telling him to get up and fight, his own blood running down a neck will feel like Apollo's hands forcing him back to his feet.
No mortal ever forgets a god's touch.
#odysseus#diomedes#hector#helen of sparta#athena#apollo#aphrodite#the iliad#greek gods#tagamemnon#and of course i would wanna write something exactly today#when in a first time in a month i need to get up early tomorrow#what is a better time to write?#writing
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The Recipe for Us
Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.
Summary: Bucky sets out to surprise his girlfriend with a simple yet meaningful gesture, but quickly learns that some things are easier said than done.
Word Count: about 9k.
notes: Second Christmas story for the Roots and Branches AU
The hot water streamed over Bucky’s shoulders, washing away the day’s grime and easing the tightness in his muscles. Sawdust and sweat swirled down the drain in pale rivulets, a tangible reminder of the hours spent at Sam’s workshop. He reached for the long-handled loofah hanging on the wall, pausing for a moment as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Seven months ago, he’d never have imagined himself using something like this. Hell, he hadn’t even known such a thing existed. But she’d gifted it to him after he’d grumbled too many times about sawdust getting into places it had no business being. “Just try it,” she’d insisted, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and determination. “It’ll make your life easier, I promise.”
At first, he’d been reluctant, because why did he need a fancy shower tool? But now, as he scrubbed his back with the bristled brush, he had to admit that he couldn’t shower without the damn thing. It worked like a charm, reaching spots his stiff shoulders couldn’t. Another one of her small but thoughtful gestures that made his life just a little better, a little easier.
That thought lingered as he rinsed off, the scent of pine-scented soap filling the steamy bathroom. Christmas was coming up fast, and he hadn’t figured out what to get her yet. She was always cooking for him, spoiling him with meals that somehow tasted even better because she’d made them. Maybe it was his turn to return the favor.
His brow furrowed as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it over his damp hair. Cookies, he thought, wrapping the towel around his waist. How hard could that be?
The bell above the library door gave a soft jingle as Bucky stepped inside, shaking off the chill of the late morning air. The faint scent of old books and polished wood greeted him, a familiar comfort. He adjusted his jacket, glancing around until he spotted Martha at the front desk.
The elderly librarian looked up from her paperwork, her face breaking into a warm smile. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite mystery man,” she said, setting her pen aside. “You’re just in time, I was about to set aside a copy of All the Colors of the Dark for you. Brand-new, hot off the presses.”
Bucky cleared his throat, his fingers brushing the edge of the counter. “Not today,” he muttered. “I, uh, need something else.”
Martha tilted her head, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Oh? And what might that be?”
He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Cooking books.”
There was a beat of silence before her expression shifted, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Cooking books? My, my, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”
Bucky scratched the back of his neck, suddenly regretting his decision. “Yeah, well… I just need something simple.”
Martha leaned forward slightly, curiosity sparking in her gaze. “Simple, huh? Expanding your repertoire, are you?”
“Not exactly.” His hand tugged at his jacket zipper, his eyes fixed on a spot just past her shoulder. “It’s for… someone. A gift.”
Martha chuckled, her gaze warm and knowing. “A gift, huh? Have you already decided what you’re making, or are you here to brainstorm?”
Bucky hesitated, his ears tinged pink. “Cookies,” he admitted finally.
Her face lit up, and she clasped her hands together. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, you know that? She’s lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”
He fumbled again with his jacket, the zipper slipping through his fingers as he looked anywhere but at her. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.
“Don’t worry,” she said kindly, moving to the shelves. “I’ve got just the thing for you. A beginner’s guide, easy recipes, step-by-step instructions. You’ll do great.”
As she handed him the book, Bucky accepted it with a quiet nod, clutching it like it was a secret dossier. “Appreciate it,” he said gruffly before turning toward the door, his heart thudding a little too fast as he stepped out into the crisp afternoon.
Sitting in his truck, he flipped through the pages of the brightly colored cookbook, furrowing his brow as he skimmed the recipes. The instructions seemed straightforward enough, at least none of them required anything he couldn’t pronounce. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he realized he had just enough time to swing by the general store before heading back to the workshop.
The bell above the store’s door jingled as he stepped inside, the warm air carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and pine. He grabbed a basket and made his way through the aisles, collecting the essentials: flour, baking soda, vanilla essence, and a few other things he didn’t recognize but trusted the book’s guidance on.
As he reached the seasonal display near the front, he paused in front of a rack of Christmas-themed cookie cutters. There were stars, trees, and even a set of reindeer shapes. He frowned, holding up two options and debating which would look more impressive.
He was still deliberating when the familiar sound of the doorbell chiming caught his attention. His stomach flipped as he saw Y/n walking in, her coat and hair dusted with snowflakes.
Panic shot through his brain. Without a second thought, he shoved both sets of cookie cutters to the bottom of his basket, quickly covering them with the flour and sugar. He angled himself away from the entrance, his heart pounding as if he’d been caught committing a crime.
He took a steadying breath and glanced at his basket. The cutters were well-hidden, but now he was hyper-aware of the faint clinking of metal every time he moved. Muttering to himself, he steeled his nerves and started toward the checkout, keeping his head low and his focus on not drawing her attention.
And that might have worked if Bucky’s frame didn’t stand out so much. The low shelves did little to hide him, and before he could edge toward the checkout, her gaze landed squarely on him.
Her face lit up with that familiar, heart-stopping smile, and she made a beeline straight for him. He froze, gripping the handle of his basket like it might somehow shield him.
“Hi honey,” she said warmly, slipping her hand into his free one. Her touch was light, and casual, but it sent a wave of nervous energy coursing through him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Hey,” he managed to squeak.
Her eyes dropped to the basket with curiosity as she leaned closer. “What do we have here?” She peeked in, eyebrows lifting as she spotted the ingredients nestled at the bottom. “Flour? Sugar? Vanilla ext-
“It’s for Sam.” he cut her quickly, too quickly. “He asked me to grab some stuff for… for the shop. I needed to come here anyway to buy something for lunch.”
“For the shop?” she echoed, tilting her head.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “He forgot to pick it up earlier.”
Her eyes darted back to the basket. “Okay, but what about you? What are you grabbing for lunch?”
His chest tightened. He should’ve thought this through. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, his voice clipped.
“Not hungry?” she asked, her smile fading slightly. “You’ve been working all day, Bucky. You should eat something-”
Her genuine concern made his shoulders tense. He didn’t want her prying, didn’t want to screw up the surprise. “I said I’m fine,” he replied, harsher than he intended.
She blinked, taken aback. “Okay…”
He rubbed the back of his neck, the guilt creeping in as he saw the shift in her expression. Still, the panic swirling in his chest made it impossible to backtrack. “I just… I don’t have time to explain, alright?” he said, in a hurried tone. “I need to get back to work.”
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I’ll see you later,” he added, moving past her with a quickness that felt borderline rude.
“Wait, Bucky-”
“I’ll call you,” he said over his shoulder, already heading for the register. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the weight of her gaze as he paid and left the store, the bell above the door jangling behind him.
Outside, the cold air hit his face, but it didn’t ease the heat of frustration prickling under his skin. He hated how his tone had come out. Too rough, too abrupt, but he was incapable of handling it differently.
She stood by the shelves long after Bucky had hurried out, the bell above the store’s door still faintly ringing in her ears. She replayed their conversation, or lack thereof, in her mind. His curt tone, the way he barely looked at her, it was unlike him. Maybe he was just having a bad day. She hoped that was all it was.
But then a few days passed, and she didn’t see him, and the messages were almost nonexistent.
What she didn’t know was that Bucky had been using every spare moment to tackle the recipes in that cookbook. Each attempt ended worse than the last: a disaster of burnt edges, underbaked centers, or cookies that crumbled to dust at the lightest touch.
He stood in his kitchen, staring at the latest batch, which somehow managed to be both rock-hard and sticky at the same time. He rubbed a hand down his face, the other gripping the counter as frustration curled tight in his chest. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
It wasn’t just the cookies. It was the nagging feeling that he was failing at something so simple. The harder he tried, the worse it seemed to get. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. He threw himself into fixing it, retreating further into his house and unintentionally pulling away from her.
Each time she asked to meet, he had an excuse ready.
“I’m exhausted, darlin’.” he’d said one evening.
“Not feeling great, the migraine came back,” he told her the next day.
“Now’s not a good time,” was the worst.
When she offered to bring him lunch at the workshop, hoping for at least a few stolen minutes together, he deflected. “Shop’s too busy these days,” he had added gruffly. “Wouldn’t look good.”
Her chest tightened every time he brushed her off. She tried not to take it personally, but the doubt crept like frost on a windowpane. Had she done something wrong? Was she being too pushy? Too clingy?
Sitting at home with her phone in her lap, she stared at his last message. The usual warmth in his words was absent. She bit her lip, scrolling back through their conversations, searching for some clue as to what had changed.
Eventually, Bucky grudgingly texted Sam's sister to ask for help. He stared at the phone screen, his thumb hovering over the send button. Every fiber of his being wanted to delete the message, but he was out of options. His fingers itched to toss the phone onto the counter and forget this ever happened, but instead, he hit send.
The reply came quickly:
Sure. Meet me at the diner during my break. You’re buying lunch.
The last part made him groan, but at least Sarah had agreed. She was the only person he could think of who could help him without making it a big deal. He’d dreaded this conversation from the moment he realized he couldn’t pull off the cookies on his own.
When lunchtime rolled around, Bucky made his way to the diner, his stomach twisting with nerves. He slid into the booth across from Sarah, his shoulders tight and his hands fidgeting on the table.
“All right,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “You dragged me out here, so spill. What’s going on?”
Bucky shifted in his seat, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I need help,” he muttered.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “With…?”
He sighed. “Cookies.”
“Cookies?” she repeated, clearly holding back a laugh.
“Yeah, cookies,” he grumbled, lowering his voice. “I’ve been trying to make them for Y/n. It’s supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t get it right. Every batch is worse than the last.”
Sarah tilted her head, her expression somewhere between amused and concerned. “Wait a second. How many batches are we talking about here?”
Bucky hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. “A lot,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been working on it for… a few days now after work.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “A few days? What, have you just been locking yourself in your house this whole time? Baking?”
The remnants of his grilled cheese sat on the plate in front of him, barely touched. she, on the other hand, was halfway through her fries, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as she listened to him stumble through his explanation. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat. “Maybe. You know already that when I’m fixated on something I can get-”
“So let me get this straight,” Sarah interrupted, crossing her arms and leaning back in the booth. “You’ve been holing yourself up in your cabin, failing at baking cookies, and ignoring your girlfriend because you’re too proud to ask her for help?”
Bucky’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh, no? Then what is it like?” she questioned, crossing her arms.
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heavy weight of her stare. “I just… wanted to surprise her. She always does so much for me, and I thought I could do something nice for her for once. But nothing’s working, and-” He stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
Sarah softened, her teasing giving way to something gentler. “Look, Bucky. It’s sweet that you want to do this for her. But you’re overthinking it. Cookies don’t have to be perfect; they just have to come from the heart, she would love them anyway.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” he muttered.
Sarah laughed. “You think I was born knowing how to bake? Trust me, it took plenty of trial and error. And maybe a few smoke alarms.”
Bucky’s lips twitched, almost a smile.
“Okay,” she said, brushing her hands off on a napkin. “Let’s start with the basics. What recipe are you trying to use?”
Before he could answer, the bell over the diner door jingled, drawing both their gazes to the entrance. It was just a regular patron, and Bucky’s attention began to shift back to Sarah. But then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her. Y/n stood just outside the window, frozen mid-step, a paper bag from the bakery clutched tightly in her hands.
Bucky’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t hear them through the glass, but the scene must have looked... bad. Him sitting with Sarah, leaning casually across the table, her easy smile lighting up the booth, while his phone sat untouched, the unanswered messages from Y/n still lingering in his inbox.
He swore under his breath.
Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something, but then she looked away.
He could see the shift, the moment her walls went up. She adjusted her grip on the bag, straightened her posture, and turned on her heel, walking briskly down the sidewalk.
“Uh-oh,” Sarah muttered, her gaze flicking between them. “Good luck with that,” she added dryly, biting into another fry as he scrambled out of the booth.
His long strides closed the distance quickly, but as he reached out to touch her shoulder, he hesitated. His hand hovered for a moment before dropping to his side. Instead, he called her name.
She didn’t stop right away, her pace faltering for half a second before continuing, though slower this time.
He tried again and she finally stopped, turning around slowly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. That sight hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, the words he had lined up fled his mind.
“I can explain,” he said, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance.
She made a small motion with her head, a tilt that told him to continue. She didn’t trust her voice to speak just yet, her grip tightening around the bakery bag.
“I was talking to Sarah,” he began, his voice low and uncertain. “About... about a problem I’ve been having.”
Her brows furrowed, and he stumbled over his next words. “It’s-it’s nothing serious, just something I needed... advice on.”
“Advice?” she repeated, her tone soft but tinged with something sharper.
He nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah.”
She exhaled, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled but held firm. “You know, I always thought I was the person you’d turn to if you needed help.” Her gaze locked on his, vulnerable yet unyielding. “It seems like it's not the case lately.”
“That’s not true,” he stated quickly, words rushing together. “I… God, I’m sorry if I’ve been... distant. Absent. It’s not you, it’s-” He paused, groaning softly as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I have my reasons.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her next words were calm but carried an edge. “We’re grown adults, Bucky. This isn’t one of those predictable novels where the characters dance around their miscommunication until everything blows up.” She crossed her arms, the bakery bag crinkling slightly. “If something’s going on, I expect you to be concrete with me, not feed me veiled comments or excuses.”
“I know,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You deserve better than that. I just... I didn’t want to mess this up.”
Her eyes softened, but she didn’t drop her stance. “Then stop treating me like I’m someone you could mess things up with, and just talk to me.”
Bucky let out a heavy breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, with a low but resolute voice. "I’ll just… come clean."
Her expression stayed guarded, but he could see a flicker of curiosity as he shifted his weight, looking anywhere but directly at her. "I don’t… I’m not great at this kind of thing. Talking, explaining. But I know this. You, us… this thing doesn’t mean anything if it’s making you upset." She blinked, her features softening just a fraction. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "I’ve been working on something. For you."
“For me?” she asked, brows raising slightly.
“Yeah.” He looked at her briefly before glancing away again, his lips twitching with nervous energy. "Cookies. I’ve been trying to bake cookies for you. For Christmas. I thought… you’re always cooking for me, always doing things to make my life easier. I wanted to do something for you. Something meaningful." He exhaled roughly, the words spilling out faster now. "But I’m awful at it. Every batch gets worse, and I’ve been so damn focused on trying to get it right that I didn’t even realize how I was shutting you out."
As his story progressed, she could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed and fidgeted at his sides, and his eagerness to make things right even as he stumbled over his words. Her expression shifted, the initial frustration melting into something gentler as she bit her lip, her emotions caught between amusement and tenderness.
“Bucky,” she murmured, stepping forward before he could say more. She dropped the bakery bag and hugged him tightly, her arms wrapping around his waist.
He froze for a moment before leaning into the embrace, his arms hesitantly circling her back. They stayed like that, wrapped in silence, until she broke the quiet.
"You could’ve just bought me a can of cookies, you know. Then I could’ve used it to put my sewing supplies in there.”
He let out a low laugh against her hair. "Yeah, but what kind of gesture would that be?"
"A less stressful one," she teased, pulling back just enough to look up at him, with a small smile tugging at her lips.
"Maybe," he admitted, his blue eyes searching hers. "But it wouldn’t have been the same."
“How about this,” she began, her voice soft yet playful. “We make them together.”
Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Together?”
“Yeah,” she said, her smile widening. “I’ll teach you how to make them. We’ll turn it into a little… date. You’ll learn how to do it right, and my gift will be spending time with you.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a raised brow. “Before you argue, think about it. I don’t need some perfect Christmas cookies, Bucky. I’d much rather spend time with you, and make sure you don’t burn your kitchen down in the process.”
He hesitated, then gave her a slow nod. “Alright. We’ll make ‘em together.” Then a determined smile played on his lips. If learning to bake with her would give him another shot at perfecting those cookies on his own later, it was a win-win. And this time, he wouldn’t mess it up.
That afternoon, as planned, Bucky arrived at her house. When she opened the door, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him standing there with two overstuffed grocery bags in hand.
“You didn’t have to bring everything-,” she started, stepping aside to let him in.
“I did,” he cut in firmly, gripping the bags. “I’m the one learning here, and I’ll be damned if you’re the one paying for my mess-ups.”
She chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short just yet. You might have a hidden talent.”
He gave her a doubtful look but didn’t argue. Turning fully to her, he gave her a quick, self-conscious smile before she leaned up to kiss him, a soft, reassuring press of her lips against his.
“Come on,” she said, pulling back and taking his hand. “I’ve got everything set up.”
She led him to the kitchen, where bowls, measuring cups, and utensils were neatly arranged. A checkered white-and-blue apron lay folded on the counter, which she promptly picked up and handed to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the apron like it might bite.
“Your apron,” she said simply, unfolding it and holding it up to him. “It’s going to save you from ruining that nice shirt of yours. Plus, it suits you.”
He muttered something under his breath about dignity, but he didn’t resist when she slipped it over his head and tied the strings at his back. She stepped back, tilting her head as if admiring her handiwork.
“There. Perfect,” she said with a grin.
He shook his head, but his lips twitched in a faint smile. “Alright, what now?”
“Well, first,” she began, pulling out a notebook and pen, “which recipe were you trying?”
Bucky hesitated, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… if you’ve got a favorite, we could try that instead.”
“Nope,” she replied, crossing her arms with a playful smile. “This is your project. I want to see what you picked.”
His ears turned red as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled recipe card with his handwriting, handing it to her.
She smoothed it out, scanning the list of ingredients and instructions. “Alright,” she said, looking up at him with an amused and encouraging smile. “Let’s see if we can make some magic happen.”
Bucky grabbed an elastic band from his back pocket, pulling his hair back and tying it into a short ponytail. His movements were quick and practiced, but to her, it was a sight worth pausing for.
“You know,” she said, leaning against the counter with a teasing grin, “you look ridiculously handsome like that.”
He glanced at her, his cheeks warming as he muttered, “It’s just a hairdo for workin’. Nothin’ fancy.”
“Still counts,” she replied with a shrug, stepping closer to nudge his arm.
He ducked his head with a quiet huff but didn’t say more, focusing instead on the task at hand.
When they started reading through the recipe together, Bucky's brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay,” he muttered, “this part says a cup.” As he spoke, he reached for a mug she hadn’t even noticed sitting on the counter, a large, oversized thing that looked more suited for a vat of coffee than precise measurements. She blinked, then glanced up at him.
“Bucky,” she said gently, pointing at the mug, “what have you been using for this?”
He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Uh… one from my cupboard,” he admitted, his tone almost defensive. “The grey one with the red star?”
Her lips twitched, and she pressed them together to suppress a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not all cups are the same, especially when you’re baking. It’s not about a drinking cup, it’s about measuring cups.”
She picked up her set of cups, holding them up for him to see. “These are what you use for recipes. They’re standardized so everything comes out the way it’s supposed to.”
Bucky looked between the measuring cups and his oversized mug, realization dawning on his face. “So… that’s why every batch turned out so bad,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Baking is like chemistry.” She added with a chuckle, “The right proportions make everything work smoothly. I guess you didn’t differentiate the size of the spoons either.” When she saw his disappointed face she reached up to gently pat his shoulder. “You’re not alone. A lot of people make these mistakes when they start. That’s why we’re doing this together.”
They moved through the recipe step by step, she perched beside him, offering quiet guidance while letting him take the lead. Bucky tried to focus on the instructions, but each step felt like a puzzle missing a crucial piece. As he measured out flour and sugar, he couldn’t help but second-guess every motion, leveling off scoops with exacting care that bordered on obsession.
It wasn’t just the baking, it was her watching him. Her eyes followed his hands with a soft patience that should’ve soothed him, but instead left him hyper-aware of every move he made. He could feel her gaze like a weight, one he didn’t know how to carry. His shoulders stiffened further when he noticed a bit of flour scatter onto the counter.
When he started mixing the dough, frustration began to creep in. “This stuff doesn’t want to combine,” he muttered, glaring down at the stubbornly clumpy mixture.
She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his back as she peered into the bowl. Her touch sent a jolt through him, not unpleasant, just… distracting. “It takes a little patience,” she said softly. “You’re doing fine, Bucky. Really.”
He wanted to believe her, but self-doubt crept intrusive inside him. What if I screw this up? The thought lingered on a loop, heavy and unwelcome. He worked the spatula harder, tension tightening his jaw and making his movements stiff.
She noticed, of course she did. She always noticed. Setting her utensils aside, she slipped an arm around his waist, pulling herself close to his side. Her nose brushed against his chest as she nuzzled him gently, the warmth of her body cutting through the wall he didn’t even realize he’d been building.
“Relax,” she murmured, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re not dismantling a bomb here. No one’s born knowing everything, and you came today to learn. That’s already the hardest part.”
He let out a breath, her words chipping away some of the tension clawing at him. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his movements were still careful and deliberate as if the dough would mock him for messing up.
She tilted her head, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. He recognized that look and braced himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what she did next. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, still sticky with half-mixed dough, and brought it to her mouth.
His eyes widened as two of his fingers disappeared between her lips. The room stilled, and his focus narrowed to her. Her tongue swirled over his skin, warm and deliberate, as she sucked the dough clean. His heart thudded against his ribs, his breath catching somewhere in his throat.
“What… what are you doing?” he managed, his voice raspier than intended.
She released his fingers with a soft pop and a smug expression. “Waking you up,” she teased. “And there’s no way you could disappoint me anyway. I’ve barely been paying attention to the recipe.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
Her lips curled into a grin as her gaze swept over him, slow and deliberate. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Big guy in my kitchen, wearing my apron, looking way too good with his hair pulled back. Take your pick.”
Heat crawled up his neck, but he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the bowl.
When the time came to cut the cookies, Bucky rummaged through one of the bags he’d brought and pulled out a set of festive cookie cutters. He laid them on the counter, and she squealed in delight, clapping her hands together.
“These are so cute!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over.
Bucky’s half-smile turned bigger. “Yeah?”
She nodded enthusiastically, picking up one of the cutters shaped like a snowflake. “Good choice, honey.”
His chest warmed at her praise, and for once, he didn’t feel quite so out of his depth. They worked side by side together, cutting the dough into cheerful shapes. She was quick, deftly pressing cutters into the rolled-out dough and transferring each piece to the baking tray with practiced ease. He followed her lead, slower but methodical, determined to match her precision.
In what felt like no time, the oven was full of cookies, their sweet, buttery scent already starting to fill the kitchen. Bucky leaned back against the counter, pulling her into his side with one arm. She nestled into him, her head resting against his chest as they both stared at the timer ticking down.
“You’re getting pretty domestic.” she teased, tilting her head up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, her lips lingering there for a moment. “So,” she began, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, ��how are you planning to decorate these?”
He froze. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the trays, panic flickering in his blue eyes. “I, uh…” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that far ahead.”
Her laughter was light but not unkind. “It’s okay,” she said, patting his chest reassuringly. “I’ll take care of it.”
“That wasn’t the idea,” he protested, frowning. “This is supposed to be my thing. For you.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll teach you how to make royal icing, and then you’re on your own.”
The timer dinged, and they set about transferring the cookies to cooling racks. Once the cookies were ready, she walked him through the steps of making royal icing, from mixing the powdered sugar to coloring small batches with food dye.
At first, his hands were clumsy, unfamiliar with the delicate work of piping, but soon enough, Bucky found his rhythm. He focused intently on each cookie, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he carefully outlined a reindeer’s antlers or added intricate snowflake details.
She stood back, watching with growing amazement. “You’ve got a steady hand,” she remarked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter.
He shrugged, still concentrating. “I’ve had practice. Just… not with this.”
By the time he finished, the cookies were nothing short of impressive. Each one was decorated with precision, from cheerful Santas to elegant wreaths. He turned to her, brushing a streak of flour from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well?”
She grinned, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “They’re perfect, Bucky.”
The sky was painted in soft strokes of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, his joints popping after hours spent hunched over the kitchen counter. “I’ll leave the cookies here to set overnight,” he said, glancing at the rows of perfectly iced cookies spread across her counter. “But I need to head over to the workshop. Got some decorations to drop off.”
“Decorations?” she asked, tilting her head.
He nodded toward the door. “Yeah, Sam thought it’d be nice if everyone pitched in this year. Made something personal for the display. I’ve got mine in the truck.”
Her face lit up. “Can I come? I’ll help you set everything up.”
Bucky hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in her gaze was hard to resist. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go.”
By the time they reached the workshop, the place was dark and locked up for the evening. Bucky fished his keys out of his pocket, the metal jingling softly in the quiet air. “Here we are,” he muttered, unlocking the door and holding it open for her.
The workshop smelled faintly of sawdust and varnish, even in the chill of winter. A few decorations already hung from the rafters: wooden stars, garlands crafted from pinecones, and even a clumsily painted reindeer that had Sarah’s handiwork written all over it.
She wandered further inside, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took in the holiday cheer. “This is so cozy,” she said, her voice echoing softly in the empty space.
Bucky stepped past her, setting a large box on the workbench. She peeked inside, her grin widening as she spotted a tangle of string lights. “Oh, these are perfect! Did you really make these?”
“They’re just lights,” he replied with a shrug, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his modesty.
She picked up a strand and held it aloft, the tiny bulbs catching the last traces of daylight filtering through the workshop windows. “No, I can tell you put effort into this, they are gorgeous.”
Her words made his chest tighten, and a mix of pride and awkwardness settled over him. “Come on,” he said, reaching for the box. “Let’s get these up.”
They worked side by side, untangling the string lights with care. She gently teased him when he accidentally knotted a section tighter, but as they kept at it, she couldn’t help but praise him again.
“You’re so good at manual labor,” she said, handing him the next strand. “Carpentry at Sam’s, the cookies earlier, fixing things around my place... and now these lights? Is there anything you can’t do?”
Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her words stirred darker thoughts within him. Oh, if she only knew what else his hands were good at. Things that involve a knife, a rifle, or worse. The memories flickered like a shadow across his mind, a sharp contrast to the festive glow they were creating.
“Bucky?” Her soft voice pulled him from the spiral.
“Hm?” he mumbled, blinking as he looked at her.
“Maybe you could make some lights for me next year,” she suggested.
He exhaled softly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. “Sure.”
Sensing the remnants of whatever had crossed his mind, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his chest. Her embrace relaxed him, the warmth of her touch chasing away the cold corners of his thoughts.
“You still have the ponytail,” she pointed out, glancing up at him with a grin. “I love it.”
He rolled his eyes, though a faint flush touched his cheeks. “It’s practical,” he repeated, focusing on arranging the next strand of lights.
“It’s sexy,” she countered, her grin turning mischievous.
As he worked, her eyes fell on the remaining strand of lights still in the box, and a mischievous idea sparked in her mind.
“You know,” she began, picking up the last strand, “these could do more than just decorate the workshop.”
He looked up at her, brow raised. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
She shrugged, holding the strand up and letting it dangle between her fingers. “I don’t know. They seem sturdy enough to, I don’t know... tie something up?”
His head tilted, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he caught the teasing edge in her tone. “You mean like a post?”
“Sure, Bucky. A post,” she replied, her lips quirking into a smirk.
He took a step toward her, his broad frame closing the gap between them. “Or something else?”
Her grin widened. “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”
He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable. Without a word, he plucked the strand of lights from her hands and looped it loosely over her wrist. Her heart skipped, as he moved with the careful, deliberate precision she’d just been praising. Before she could react, he had her wrists gently bound together with the lights, tying them off to the sturdy handle of the workbench vice.
“Bucky,” she murmured, tugging lightly at the restraint, “I didn’t mean... here.”
His brow quirked, as he leaned back, casually admiring his handiwork. “Oh, didn’t you?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she squirmed a little, testing the hold. “What if someone comes in?”
“No one’s coming in,” he said, his voice calm and confident.
“You don’t know that,” she countered, her eyes darting toward the locked door as though willing it to stay closed.
He stepped closer, crowding her space in that way that always made her pulse race. “Well,” he drawled, one hand tracing the strand around her wrists, “you should’ve thought about that before suggesting this creative use for my handiwork.”
Her lips parted, a retort bubbling on her tongue, but it fizzled under the weight of his heated gaze. “I didn’t think you’d actually... do it,” she whispered.
“That so?” His voice was low, teasing as he leaned in, his breath brushing her ear. “Then maybe you shouldn’t dare me next time.”
Before she could muster a reply, his free hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her into a rough, searing kiss. He took full advantage of her startled gasp to deepen it, lifting her effortlessly and laying her back on the workbench. Her arms were stretched above her head, her wrists binded to the workbench handle, a tether she couldn’t help but tug against instinctively.
“Bucky,” she breathed, her voice laced with a mix of arousal and reason. “We can’t... not here.”
“Can’t we?” he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. His hands, strong and sure, settled on her hips as he positioned himself between her legs.
Her protests faltered as his mouth found the hollow of her throat, trailing wet, deliberate kisses down to her collarbone.
“This is insane,” she whispered, though her fingers flexed against the strands holding her wrists.
“Maybe,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “But you don’t seem to mind.” Her body betrayed her, arching toward him, inviting his touch as he continued his slow, torturous path down her neck.
As he spoke, his hand traced up her thigh, slipping beneath the woolen skirt she’d worn to keep warm in the crisp winter air. His fingers traveled with deliberate slowness, brushing over her stocking-clad legs until they reached her mound, cupping it through her already damp panties. She gasped, tugging against the makeshift restraint at her wrists as his touch sent a jolt of heat through her body.
“In fact,” he murmured, pressing his fingers more firmly against her, “you’re enjoying it.”
Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t summon a denial, not with the way her body was reacting. He smirked at her silence, leaning back slightly to survey the sight of her stretched out on the workbench.
His hands shifted to her hips, sliding her skirt up higher, bunching it around her waist. His gaze darkened as he poked at her clothed entrance, watching the way she arched toward him, needing more. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he let out a low groan.
“The jacket stays on,” he growled, commanding. She blinked at him, a question forming at her lips, but he shook his head. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you freeze on me.”
Before she could respond, he shrugged off his own jacket, tossing it onto a nearby stool. His hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle and zipper in his urgency. “I was gonna take my time,” he admitted, his voice rough with restraint, “but seeing you like this…” His gaze raked over her, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her jacket, and the way her legs spread just enough to accommodate him. “I need you now, sweetheart.”
Her lips parted softly “I want you too, Bucky.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he tugged them down her thighs, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly before he discarded them onto the floor. His own pants and underwear followed in quick succession, pooling around his boots as he climbed back over her.
The heat of his body pressed against hers was a stark contrast to the chill in the air. His rough hands held her hips as he shifted between her legs and captured her lips in a deep, consuming kiss, grinding his cock against her slick folds. She moaned into his mouth, her body instinctively lifting toward him, chasing the friction.
“Fuck,” he rasped against her lips, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. “You feel so good, sugar. So wet for me.”
Her only response was another needy arch of her hips, and he growled softly, gripping her thighs as he lined himself up with her entrance. The tip of his cock teased her, as though he was savoring the moment despite his earlier haste.
“Bucky,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need, “please.”
His jaw tightened, his resolve barely hanging by a thread. “Don’t be impatient” he murmured, his voice a rough, gravelly tease. “I want to-” He broke off, swallowing hard as his cock pressed against her entrance, her heat almost enough to make him lose control. “I want to just fuck you right now, but I didn’t prep you. I’m not risking hurting you.”
She groaned in frustration, her head tipping back against the workbench. In her heated state, her filter was long gone. “I don’t care, Bucky. I want it all, right now.”
His blue eyes snapped to hers, darkened with lust but narrowing with a hint of reproach. “Don’t say things like that,” he growled with a strained voice. “You’re making this harder for me.”
Her lips curved into a sly smile, even as she squirmed beneath him. “Good.”
Bucky let out a low, frustrated groan, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his words. She could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as he fought to stay focused.
He shifted, one hand moving between them to guide himself, his other hand keeping her firmly in place. Slowly, carefully, he began to push inside, stopping to let her adjust with each inch. Her walls stretched around him, the delicious burn making her moan, her bound wrists pulling reflexively against the lights as she arched her back.
She whimpered his name, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer. “More,” she pleaded, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.
“Darlin' I’m trying,” he rasped, pausing to catch his breath, his forehead pressing against hers. “But you gotta let me take care of you.”
Her head tilted, her eyes locking with his, and there was so much trust and desire in her gaze that it almost undid him. “You are, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But I need it now.”
His restraint cracked, and with a low groan, he pushed deeper, sinking into her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her.
Bucky groaned as her walls clenched around him. She mewled softly, tilting her head back, her bound wrists tugging at the lights as she instinctively moved her hips upward, desperate for more.
“See?” she murmured, her lips brushing his, her breath warm and teasing. “I told you I could take it.”
His jaw tightened, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to thrust forward again, deliberately slow despite the tension tightening every muscle in his body.
Her whimper sent a jolt of desire straight through him, her legs tightening around his hips as she arched up to meet his shallow movements. “Please, baby,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “I need you to move.”
“Just… wait,” he ground out, his jaw tight as he tried to keep himself in check. His restraint was hanging by a thread, but he was determined to go slow, to make it good for her despite the fire licking at his nerves. The way she shifted beneath him, her hips rolling against his, hot, wet, and utterly desperate, was unraveling him inch by inch.
And then she did it, arching her back, her chest pressing into his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip before her tongue darted out to soothe the sting. “Please,” she whispered, her voice sultry, pleading, her eyes locking onto his with wild abandon.
He snapped.
With a guttural groan, he slammed into her, hard and deep. She cried out, a sharp sound that made him freeze with guilt.
“Shit,” he muttered, his body taut with tension. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head furiously, her eyes glassy with need as she squirmed beneath him. “No. God, no,” she whimpered, her voice broken. “Don’t stop. Please, Bucky, don’t stop.”
He exhaled slowly, rough and ragged as he fought to steady himself. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, with a strained voice.
He started again, his movements slow at first, but the way her body responded to him, -arching, trembling, pushing- had his resolve crumbling all over again. He tried to quicken his pace, thrust harder, deeper, but the workbench beneath them was unforgivingly hard, and he growled in frustration, halting mid-thrust. With a muttered curse, he pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips, lifting them slightly as he pushed her skirt higher and entered her again, this time setting a punishing pace, the new angle pulling a sharp cry from her lips.
“Better?” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “You just couldn’t wait, didn’t you?” he grunted, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her.
Her only response was a desperate moan, her hips rolling back against him as though to urge him deeper.
The sight of her body rippling down his, her restrained hands trying to hold onto something, and her flushed face pressed against the wood was enough to drive him wild. “Look at you,” he muttered. “So perfect like this, all laid out for me.” He pulled back, straightening, and gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks as he plunged into her with renewed force. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he pushed her higher and higher.
Every time she gasped his name, every shudder that ran through her body, spurred him on. He felt her tense and start to tremble, and he knew she was close. His fingers slid down to where they were joined, brushing against her clit, and she nearly screamed, trembling and spiraling closer to the edge.
“Come on,” he murmured, rough and coaxing. “I know you’re close. Give it to me, sweetheart.”
Her body obeyed before her mind caught up, crying out his name, dragging him into his own release with a hoarse groan as he buried himself deep inside her one last time.
They stayed like that for a moment, his body draped over hers, ragged breaths mingling in the chilled air of the workshop. He pressed a soft kiss at the back of her neck, and gently napped the sensitive skin peeking through her jacket.
As the heat of the moment faded, a flicker of practicality broke through the haze clouding Bucky’s mind. His gaze drifted to the polished surface of the workbench beneath her, and a realization hit him like a bucket of cold water. If he weren’t careful, they’d leave an undeniable -and very permanent- mark on the wood.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pressing another soft kiss to the nape of her neck.
Her head turned slightly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, voice soft and hoarse from her cries moments ago.
“The bench,” he grumbled, his hands steadying her hips. “I didn’t think it through. If we…” He hesitated, the thought of explaining a stain on the workbench’s varnish almost as mortifying as the act itself.
Her chuckle was low and warm. “Are you serious?” she teased, her body still pliant under his hands.
“Very. Sam’ll notice, and I’m not about to answer questions about this.”
“Fine,” she giggled, smirking over her shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”
First, he tugged at the string to sever it and free her from the handle, then, instead of pulling out abruptly, he eased back, his hands steady on her hips as he helped her shift, guiding her carefully to sit on his lap. Her knees wobbled, still weak from the ordeal
“Bucky,” she began, her voice playful but still breathless, “if this is your way of sweeping me off my feet-”
“Shut up,” a soft laugh rumbled from his chest. He adjusted his grip, shifting slightly until he was closer to the edge of the workbench. With a deliberate steadiness, he leaned forward and gently lowered her until her feet touched the cold floor.
She gasped at the chill against her bare toes, instinctively leaning back into his warmth as she steadied herself. “Not exactly a graceful dismount,” she quipped, her lips curving into a smirk as her hands found his forearms for balance.
Bucky winced, a hint of pink creeping up his cheeks. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he muttered, half under his breath.
She grinned, brushing back a stray lock of hair. “You can thank the Wild West novel I’m working on for that one.”
His brow arched as he helped her steady herself. “Oh, so you traded the laird’s sword for the cowboy’s long gun, huh?”
Her laugh bubbled out, leaning into him as her shoulders shook. “You know,” she teased, poking his chest lightly, “you’re catching on a little too quickly to these tropes.”
Bucky’s gaze dropped to her wrists, still loosely bound by the string of lights he severed from the bench. His lips quirked into a mischievous smirk as he reached down, gripping the strand and giving it a gentle tug. “Oh, maybe I’m just entertaining the idea of you being my captive, in retaliation for the sheriff messing with my business,” he said, his voice low and playful.
Her laughter cut off with a soft gasp, and she feet her cheeks starting to heat. “Y-you talk about your sister’s novels,” she stammered, narrowing her eyes at him. “But I’m starting to think you’ve totally read this kind of thing. As a horny teenager, or… I don’t know!”
He chuckled. “You think I spent my teenage years reading romance novels?
“Well,” she said, her tone turning playful, “not everyone had the internet back then, and I’m sure there was a limit to how many dirty magazines a boy could buy with his allowance. Especially in a small town.”
Bucky’s brow shot up. “Dirty magazines, huh?”
She grinned, shrugging as she leaned into him. “What can I say? I can totally imagine young, innocent Bucky Barnes, desperate for... enlightenment, flipping through anything he could get his hands on.”
“I didn’t-“
“Don’t try to deny it. It’s not like you had endless options. A boy’s gotta make do.”
Bucky shook his head, his ears visibly red as he muttered, “We are not having this conversation.”
“Oh, we absolutely are,” she teased, her grin widening as she poked his chest again, delighting in his flustered expression. “Come on, enlighten me. What did you do for fun in a town like this as a teenager?”
“Worked,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as if that would end the conversation.
“Worked?” she echoed, incredulous. “That’s it? No sneaking out, no rebellious shenanigans, no awkward first crushes?”
Bucky sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor as if avoiding hers might shield him from the conversation. “I guess eventually you’ll find out,” he muttered, “since it seems the people of this town love to gossip like it’s a local sport.”
She tilted her head, intrigued by his sudden reluctance. “Oh? And what juicy tidbit am I missing out on?”
He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before finally relenting. “I was... erm, popular with the girls ’round here,” he said, his voice low and gruff, like he was confessing a crime.
Her eyebrows shot up, and she barely contained a laugh. “Popular? Like, homecoming king popular or...?”
“Not exactly,” he cut in quickly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly have to grab a magazine to see... you know...” He trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand that only deepened the flush on his cheeks.
Her mouth fell open in mock shock, one hand flying to her chest. “Bucky Barnes,” she gasped, “are you telling me you were the town’s resident heartbreaker?”
“I didn’t say that!” he shot back, his ears turning red.
“You didn’t not say it,” she teased, leaning closer with a wicked grin. “Now I need details. How many hearts did you leave shattered? How many windows did you sneak out of at the crack of dawn?”
He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his flustered tone betrayed him. “And I didn’t sneak out of anyone’s window, thank you very much.”
Bucky’s hand dropped from his face, his expression shifting into something more subdued. “Anyway,” he said, his voice quieter, “it was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like it was another life.”
Her playful grin softened at his tone, her teasing instinctively halting as she watched him carefully.
“I left the town when I enlisted,” he continued, glancing away as if looking for the right words. “And only came back after fifteen years. When they...” His jaw tightened for a moment before he finished, “...decided I wasn’t enough anymore to be serving.”
Her heart ached at the weight of his words and she stepped closer, reaching for his hands as she studied his face. “Bucky…”
He shook his head slightly, offering a small, forced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “’s fine,” he said, though the tightness in his tone suggested otherwise.
Her grip on his hands tightened. “You’re more than enough. To me. To everyone who really knows you.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his smile turned genuine, though still tinged with a trace of sadness.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
Suddenly she sneezed, the sound sudden and sharp, breaking the fragile silence that had settled between them. Bucky blinked as if pulled out of a trance, and his gaze swept over the two of them.
He was naked from the waist down, her feet still bare on the cold workshop floor. His brows knitted together as he tousled his hair, a flush creeping up his neck. Without a word, he reached for his boxers, handing them to her in a silent but clear gesture.
She took them, understanding immediately, and began to clean herself as he turned away slightly, reaching for his pants. The sound of fabric sliding and belts clicking filled the space, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
Once his jeans were on and fastened, he turned back to her with a soft expression. “We should go. We already did what we came to do…” his lips quirked in a faint, amused smirk, “and more. I don’t want you catching a cold.”
She stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Do you really have to go back to the cabin?” she asked, her voice gentle but hopeful. “My house is closer to the workshop. You could sleep a little longer before work... and you’d get a proper breakfast.”
Bucky paused, studying her face as if weighing her offer. “You trying to bribe me with food?” he asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.
She arched a brow, feigning indignation, “Do I really have to bribe you to sleep with me?” she asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head.
“I-” He opened his mouth, then closed it, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted to the floor. “T-that’s not what I meant,” he muttered.
She tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I know, honey,” she murmured, affectionally. “I was just messing with you.”
“Still,” she continued, her eyes searching his face as her hands settled gently on his chest. “Will you come? I really missed my man these days of cookie quarantine.”
Every time she called him her man, Bucky’s chest swelled with an unspoken pride. His blush crept up from his collar, painting his cheeks faintly pink as he looked at her.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a low murmur, a small but shy smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll give my woman whatever she needs.”
Her grin was warm and triumphant, and she gave his chest a playful pat. “Good answer,” she said.
Bucky chuckled softly, pulling her into a loose embrace. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?”
She tilted her head, an amused glint in her eyes. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity. “Well, if you were a little more selfish, you’d know that you could ask me anything, and I’d give it to you.”
His brow furrowed slightly at her words, the teasing note in her voice doing little to mask the sincerity beneath them. “Anything?” he asked softly as if testing the weight of her promise.
She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over his chest. “Anything,” she confirmed warmly.
For a moment, Bucky didn’t reply. Then he gave her a faint smile, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a soft arc along her back.
His gaze flickered to the window where the night stretched on and cleared his throat. “We should head back,” he suggested. Then, after a beat, his lips quirked into a soft smirk, and he added, almost shyly, “Maybe I’m feeling a little selfish tonight.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. “Oh? What does that mean?”
Bucky shrugged, his hand drifting to the small of her back as he gently nudged her toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come home with me and find out.”
Dividers by: @/saradika
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#bucky barnes fic#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky x curvy!reader#Lumberjack!Bucky
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Casual /extra
One shot; college students drew x reader
Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings.
Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, slight angst
Warnings: swearing, sex, light read, drew's a player :(
⋆.˚ official one shot here | extra2
⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work
♡⸝⸝ "it's hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser"
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“Whose bra is this?”
Drew’s eyes dart to the source, feeling wary. Who else could be in his room right now?
Oh right. The girl he met last night. She’s wearing his t-shirt like it’s his, rummaging through his dresser. She turns around holding a red bra. Your red bra.
Drew raises an eyebrow, looking at the girl skeptically. What’s her name again? He honestly has no idea, and isn’t planning on remembering. “I..I thought you left.”
“Let’s grab breakfast together,” she happily chirps, before returning to the bra in her hands, holding it as if it contained some deadly disease. “Now, who’s bra is this?”
Drew doesn’t reply; and the girl adds on, “is it the girl you moaned out last night?”
Drew cocks his head to the side. What is this bitch on, he thinks. He sends her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, walks over, and snatches the bra out of her hands. He tugs it back in his dresser, pushing it close. “You should leave.”
He turns around and sees the graphic design that's on the shirt the girl's currently wearing. That’s the shirt you got him. One of his favorite. “Um, leave the shirt here.”
It’s the girl’s turn to look at him skeptically. “What?”
“Yeah, uh, leave the shirt here, and forget this ever happened, alright?”
Drew throws his towel over his gaming chair, and grabs his sweatpants. He puts it on, ignoring the shocked expression on her face. He lays down on his bed, picks up his phone, and starts scrolling through his messages.
When she realizes that he doesn’t give a shit, she angrily takes the t-shirt off, throwing it into his face. “Thanks,” Drew says rather sourly, putting it to the side. She puts on her dress from last night, grabbing any remaining clothing around the place.
“We have class together, you dick!” She yells, as if that would make Drew care.
He hums, obviously too focused on his phone. Only the slam of his room door makes him slightly flinch, but even so, his eyes go back to his phone.
Now, what was he so focused on? Well, texting you.
——
I’m at the soccer field
This simple text was enough to get Drew out of his dorm, walking as fast as he could to go see you.
A smile on his lips that appear on its own, just from seeing you sit on the bleachers, watching the soccer team practice. Or more, get yelled at by their coach.
You don’t even notice him sit down beside you; too engrossed in the music coming from your AirPods.
It’s when he takes one AirPod out of your ear, when you finally notice him. “Hey,” he breathes out, putting the AirPod into his own ear.
“Hi,” you smile, your eyes landing on his shirt. Oh. He’s wearing the shirt you got him as a gift a few months ago, for Christmas. He wears it quite often, but every time you see it on him, warmth still fills your stomach. “Nice shirt, handsome.”
“Really?” He nudges your knee with his. “An amazing girl got me this.”
He says stuff like this; that makes you wonder if it’s still casual.
“Interesting,” you lean in closer to him, your eyes glancing down at his lips and then at his eyes. You haven’t seen him in almost two weeks; due to spring break. Mentally, you were glad to be away from Drew, to clear your mind a bit. Physically? Well, let’s just say sexting was not as satisfying as the real thing.
“What song is this again?” He suddenly asks, smiling fondly at you. You get ready to answer, but Drew beats you to it, replying to his own question. “The Smiths, right?”
You mimic the ding noise, making him chuckle under his breath. “You know me so well,” you say, bit of sarcasm in your voice. Duh, he knows a lot about you; casual for more than five months at this point.
“Of course.” he’s smiling ear to ear.
You roll your eyes at his response, but feel your own smile growing. You lean down against his shoulder, looking out onto the field. The weight of looking into his eyes was getting heavy.
It’s quiet for a few seconds, until you speak up.
“That guy has been yelled at by the coach ten times already.”
You feel Drew’s chest vibrate against you, his laughter erupting softly. “Ten times? What a retard.”
You chuckle softly, only because Drew finds it funny. “But the coach was being a meanie.”
The said guy has the ball now, and when he attempts to score it in, he misses and falls onto the ground. That causes the coach to yell at him again. “Well, eleventh time,” Drew adds on.
“Next Fifa champion,” you add on. Drew laughs again, as if that joke was the funniest thing he’s ever heard. You pull away from leaning on his shoulder, and stare at his smile. “Was it that funny?” You ask.
He turns his head over to you, the smile still there. Or more like, ever since he sat down, his lips were always curled up. “You should be a comedian.”
That makes you laugh, and you push his shoulder, “nonsense.”
Your laughter dies down when you see how smitten his stare on you is.
His eyes glance down at your lips, then back to your eyes, “I missed you.”
Casual, casual, casual.
“You did?” You cock your head to the side flirtatiously. Part of you thought it was fun to flirt with Drew; to hear the nice things he has to say about you. The other part of you hated how sweet Drew was with you; when the two of you were just ‘casually’ sleeping together.
“Think I’ve already said that over text though,” his voice drops low, and he starts to lean close to you. The look on his face says it all; he wants to kiss you.
“Flatter me and tell me in person too, won’t you?” You continue to say, a smirk on your lips.
He leans forward and kisses your cheek gently, “how ‘bout I show you instead?”
Oh. Oh. The butterflies are throwing up in your stomach right now, because of this man’s sly mouth. How he just casually brings up wanting to have sex with you, within minutes of seeing each other.
Seems like he really does miss you.
Casual, casual, casual.
“How is one suppose to refuse to that?”
“Hmm,” he hums, and his eyes glued to your lips tell you everything; his mind is already elsewhere, imagining the most dirty things to do with you. Or, what he’s going to do with you.
He leans in, this time, kissing you on the lips. His tongue meets yours hungrily and lustfully, exploring every corner. He kisses you as if it’s the only way for him to breathe, only way for him to live on.
You hate that; yet you kiss him back with the same eagerness.
Make-out session at the bleachers? How romantic. How sweet. How casual.
You pull away, feeling breathless from how good his kisses are. And you too realize that you missed him too, something you don’t want to admit. Because, who misses someone you only see casually? That’s weird.
His eyes are still glued to your lips, and you see a small trail of saliva near the corner of it. You chuckle softly, wiping it off with your thumb. “You know…”
He hums yet again, even though you haven’t even gotten to the main point of your sentence. “…I got a gift for you….in my room,” you manage to breathe out, and he kisses your jaw.
Aka, let’s go have sex in my room, right now.
“How lovely,” he smiles against your neck, planting a kiss there.
“You wanna see it?” You run your hands through his hair, down his nape, fingertips scratching it lightly. That makes him bury himself deeper into your neck, his arms wrapping around you.
“Yes please.”
——
The moment you unlocked your room, Drew rushes you inside, until you land on the soft cushions of your couch.
You giggle, watching him take his top off, his legs on either side of you, caging you onto the couch. “Should I continue my story or no?”
“Mmm, lemme guess,” Drew remains eye contact with you, but his hands focus on undoing the zipper of your shorts. “Everyone got food poisoning, just because of you.”
You lift your hips, him pulling your shorts down, “everyone was rushed into the ER.”
Drew laughs, ushering you to sit up. He pulls your top over your head, leaving you only in your bra and underwear. “And still you insist on cooking for me.”
“Only because you always ask to stay in,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Making me improvise on dinner.”
“Mmhm,” he stares down at your lips, distracted like always. He kisses you sloppily, his hands running along your back. You moan into his mouth, as he pushes you down onto the pillows.
“I miss you,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking gently on the area around there;
The angel on your shoulder likes the sweet things he says; the devil on the other side likes to doubt his every word, repeating the phrase in your ear:
Casual, casual, casual.
One hand kneads your thigh, the other pinning your waist to the couch. His lips move onto your breasts, where they skillfully move around the bra. He wraps his lips around your nipples, making you gasp in pleasure.
But the bra starts to feel itchy, which you breathe out, “just take it off.”
He smirks against your nipples, pulling away just to unclip your bra. You help him, pushing the bra off, discarding it on the floor. He leans down again, this time, sucking on the other breast.
“Fuck..” You moan, as he stops, trailing his lips down your stomach. He leaves soft kisses along your belly button, his fingers working with pulling your underwear down.
“Missed you.”
This time, he says it while looking down at your pussy.
The air hits your wet pussy, soon cut off by Drew’s warm palm.
“Wet already,” he chuckles, his fingers playing with your folds. Too consumed with lust, you don’t even reply to that comment.
He sticks two fingers into you, thrusting in a slow pace. “You’re tight,” he breathes out, kissing your neck.
You wrap your arms around his neck lazily, “haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Forever, huh?”
“C’mon, don’t act like its not the same for you-“ he adds the third finger, cutting off your sentence. You moan loudly, as he starts to move in a faster pace. Swear, you can cum just on his fingers alone.
He smiles against your face, and kisses your ear. Occasionally, he grunts, trying to stretch you out as much as he can.
Okay. Maybe you could cum on his fingers alone, but it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing. “I want you,” you manage to say between moans, his fingers working hard on your pussy.
He kisses your forehead, “good to know.”
What a teasing prick. You squeeze his bicep, hoping he gets the message. It’s not easy to talk when he’s got his fingers deep in you. You give him a lazy glare; and he just laughs, “I’know.”
He pulls out of you, and you immediately clench around nothing, your folds missing Drew. He gets entirely off of you, and walks into your bedroom.
Drew knew where you kept the condoms; since, well, he’s constantly fucking you.
You stare at the ceiling while waiting for him.
A few seconds of silence passes.
“Y/n!” He yells, before walking out a few seconds later. You turn your gaze to him, who’s holding the entire box of condoms in his hands. He smiles wryly, “it’s expired.”
You furrow your eyebrows, sitting up slightly. He walks over to you, showing you the date on the box. Yeah, it is expired. But you bought this a few weeks ago. Wait…
“No wonder it was so cheap,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch pillow.
“This shit…won’t break that easily, right?”
You glance at Drew. He looks at you, hoping you would agree to his thought. His eyes shine in anticipation, the curl of his lips upwards. “…I guess?”
“I’ll…even pull out before I cum,” he shrugs, also hoping you would agree.
“I… I take pills,” you add on, ignoring the calls of ‘bad idea!’ going on in your mind. Lust was in charge now, and it’s commanding you to get fucked by Drew, even with the huge amount of risks it comes with.
He breaks into a smile, leaning down and kissing you. “Hey…so it’s okay?” He murmurs against your lips, an adoring look painted all over his face.
“Have I ever said no though?” You say, which makes him chuckle.
“True,” he replies, before taking a condom out of the box. You help him, by pulling his sweatpants off. He steps out of them, and you see his fully erected dick, screaming to be released from his boxers.
“All fours,” his voice drops deeper, commanding you into the position he wants.
You obey; shrugging your underwear off your knees, getting on your knees and elbows. You arch your back, to make your ass higher. You feel him dip on the couch behind you.
He stays behind you, the noises of him preparing the only sound in the room. It feels like minutes have passed, and he still hasn't stick it in. “You done?” You ask, unable to mask the impatience in it.
Drew replies with a hard slap to your ass, making you groan. He then asks, “did you buy this for someone else?”
“What?”
“Not only is it expired…but you got a smaller size,” he plants a kiss on your lower back.
“What?” You say again, turning your head to look behind you. He holds the packaging in his hands; an M written on it. Oh. “That isn’t your size?”
He snickers, “you serious?” You must have just grabbed the first pack on the shelf, not checking anything. Drew delivers another rough slap to your asscheek when he doesn’t get a reply from you. It hurt, but in a good way. “Babe, you serious?”
“Dead serious,” you sarcastically reply, before laying your head onto the couch pillow in front of you. At this point, you’re pretty sure your pussy isn’t even wet anymore.
But another hard slap to your other asscheek makes you jolt up, your brain betraying you by making you moan out. “Barely fits me.”
Can’t believe you’re attracted to this whiny man. “I’ll pay more attention next time,” you try to hide your annoyance, “just fuck me already.”
His hands grab the side of your hips, moving your ass to the right position. “Might slip off.”
What’s up with him right now? Is he seriously offended? You just bought the wrong size by accident, was it that big of a deal? “It won’t,” you assure him, “my fault, okay? Just put it in.”
“Fine. Fine, sorry,” he murmurs.
You feel the tip of him against your hole, as he aligns his dick. And then, he sticks his entire dick inside of you. You moan out in pleasure, clenching around it. Fuck. He was right; you were tight, and you needed a few seconds to adjust to him.
But Drew doesn’t let you; starting to slam his lower body into you, in a rather rough manner.
Clearly, he’s not sorry for being whiny.
“Shit,” you grip on the pillow harshly. “Slow the fuck down-“
He ignores your comment, continuing his pace. Drew rarely fucked you liked this, only if he’s putting his frustration or anger towards you. “Does this feel like an M?” You hear him grunt out, between thrusts.
Who knew wrong sized and expired condoms could frustrate Drew this much?
You're forced to adjust to his size and pace, ignoring how each thrust that directly hits your core hurts a bit. “Fuck,” you breathe out, the pleasure inside of you building. His hands grip on your waist tightly; soft bruises might form later.
His grunts and your soft moans fill the room, as well as loud, aggressive skin-slapping.
He leaves sloppy kisses along your spine, causing your goosebumps to rise. You weren't going to lie; it felt good to be roughly handled by Drew.
You’re close; feeling the orgasm building inside of you. He knows it too; you clench around his dick. “Someone likes getting fucked roughly,” the tease in his voice is evident, “fucked like a slut, huh?”
Yeah. When Drew was mad or angry, he degrades you in bed.
But you liked it, a moan you fail to repress escaping your lips. He slaps your ass again, a chuckle heard. “Cum then.”
He slams himself into you, his pace never slowing. The knot in your stomach eventually goes undone, your cum coating his dick. “Fuck..” He groans, as you relax yourself. He holds your ass up, continuing to thrust to help his own orgasm.
He twitches inside of you; he’s close.
Drew slows down after a few more, and you fell him pull out of you rather urgently. You completely fall on your stomach on the couch, your body giving up.
But you force yourself to turn around, laying on your back. Drew sits back on the couch, his head leaned back as his cum fills the condom. He’s right; the M size condom covers 2/3 of his dick, probably not even half when he was erected.
“I’m sorry,” you coo, a lazily smile on your lips.
His expression softens; “Come here,” he takes the condom off, wrapping it and throwing it in the garbage can nearby. You force yourself up with the little energy left inside of you, snuggling yourself in Drew’s arms. You trace your fingertips along the lines of his lower stomach, laying your head on his chest. You and Drew’s legs tangled together, due to the small couch.
The two of you stay silent, just enjoying the feeling of simply being in each other’s arms.
This was casual, apparently. Cuddling after sex. Something people who have no attachments with each other usually do.
Then, you suddenly joint up, causing Drew to look at you amusingly. “Wait, I actually do have a gift for you.”
“Really? You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, but the look on his face betrays him. He likes how you think of him when you’re away. You hum, getting off him and walking to your room.
You come back with a small box, straddling yourself around his waist. You bite down on your lips in anticipation, hoping he likes it. He takes it; opening the box to reveal a men’s chained bracelet.
It wasn’t from a luxurious brand, but you found it while shopping in your hometown, and thought it would look good on Drew.
He smiles ear-to-ear, “I love it.”
“No you don’t,” you chuckle, helping him put it on on his wrist.
“I do; I love it, thank you,” he kisses your cheek, raising his hand and wrapping it around your nape. He pulls you down, and kisses you, almost in a loving way. Besides from seeing the smile Drew has whenever you get him something, the way he kisses you after also drives you insane.
Casual, casual, casual.
“Round two,” you murmur with a smirk on your lips, pulling away. He chuckles, before his eyes look down to your breasts.
He bites down on his lip, obviously liking what he's seeing. Then, he shares the same look as you from earlier, remembering something. “Oh, your favorite bra, the red one?”
“...Yeah?” You cock your head to the side, wondering where this was going.
“It was in my dresser this entire time.”
“I knew it!”
“Found it the other day.”
“And… are you going to return it to me?”
“No.”
You slap his chest playfully, him sending you a cocky grin. “You got a bunch of other bras anyways.”
“Doesn’t compare to that one,” you pout, leaning down on his chest, hugging him. You lay your ear close to his heart, hearing the soft rhythm of it.
It’s moments like this; that doesn’t feel casual at all.
And maybe, it never will feel casual. At least for you. You weren’t the chill, flirtatious girl Drew knew, no, deep down, you were constantly doubting this situation-ship with him. Letting it drag so long, so long that it didn’t feel real anymore.
Your stupid mind, constantly dreaming of the future with him. A shared apartment, shared furniture, shared everything. Him showing you off to his friends, admitting you’re someone special to him.
You loser, he doesn’t even refer to you as a friend in front of others. Simply, a classmate. Fuck, you even visited his parents! Yet, he still denies. Everyone knows you two have something going on, except for Drew. Was he doing this on purpose?
You don’t know; and honestly, too scared ask.
Because somehow, staying casual with him was better than not having him at all.
The soft rhythm of his heartbeat helps you to slowly drift off into sleep, the thoughts disappearing. Hopefully, you don’t dream of Drew again, in a nice shared apartment, him showing you off to everyone, as his girlfriend.
Was this dumb love? Maybe. Possibly. Most definitely.
-------------------------------
word count: 3.5k
ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hope you enjoyed reading this! and this isnt an official part two, but rather, another 'pov' into being in a situationship with kinda-toxic drew. for better context, you can read the actual oneshot here. i don't think there is going to be an official part two, bc i like this the way it is (sry!) and yes, inspired by chappell roan.
ngl...i dont like this writing as much....but i love the fluff parts! also, the smut scenes might feel wayyy too fast but swear they lasted longer than that (just got lazy to write🥲) anyways, thx for reading and pls ignore any mistakes <3
#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x reader#fiction#angst#drew starkey x you#oneshot#smut#fluff#situationships#light reading
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andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)
a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.
note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.
series masterlist
18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!
Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.
The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list.
He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying.
Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist.
“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him.
Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up.
“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”
“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”
It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now.
“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”
“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”
“Alright. Got your phone handy?”
It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.
“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”
Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you.
Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone.
He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself.
But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.
So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much.
Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy.
Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine.
Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol.
So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is.
“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”
He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her.
“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”
She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall.
“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”
“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance.
She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that.
But god, does he think about you like that.
His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee.
Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—
He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand.
Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought.
But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.
“Found it okay?”
Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her.
“Yeah. Thanks again.”
Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse.
There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom.
It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.
At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again.
But.
That’s all contingent.
No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same.
The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.
In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies.
Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him.
And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him.
The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.
Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back.
If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.
And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out.
Not again.
But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.
Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can.
Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is.
It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too.
He sends you a text—the third message in a row.
The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years.
I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#dr spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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Be My Baby
Summary: Eddie Munson never thought he’d fall for someone like you—the quiet one who always seemed to blend into the background. But as fate keeps pulling you together, he finds himself unable to resist your charm. When the school’s winter formal comes around, Eddie takes a leap of faith, hoping to finally win your heart.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, a little awkwardness, shy moments, mutual pining, a touch of 80s high school angst, and a sweet, heartwarming ending.
Author’s Note: This is inspired by “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes, which is one of my all-time favorite love songs! Hope you enjoy!
The first time Eddie Munson saw you, he thought you were too good for Hawkins. You were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria with a book in your lap, your legs tucked underneath you as you half-listened to your friends’ chatter. There was something about the way you laughed softly, like you didn’t want to disturb anyone, that made Eddie’s heart skip a beat.
“Earth to Munson,” Gareth teased, snapping his fingers in Eddie’s face. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for five minutes. You good?”
Eddie blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah, yeah. Just… zoning out.”
“Right,” Gareth smirked. “Zoning out on her, huh?”
Eddie ignored him, but deep down, he couldn’t deny it. There was something about you that drew him in, even though you seemed worlds apart.
The second time he saw you, it was at the record store. You were thumbing through the vinyl, your fingers delicate as they flipped through the sleeves. Eddie couldn’t help but linger a few feet away, pretending to browse but really watching you.
When you pulled out a copy of The Ronettes’ Greatest Hits, his heart stuttered. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking up.
“Classic choice,” he said, leaning against the shelf with his signature grin.
You glanced up, startled, but then smiled shyly. “Thanks. I love their sound—it’s just so timeless.”
Eddie nodded, trying to keep his cool. “Yeah, it’s good stuff. You going to the winter formal? They usually play stuff like that.”
You tilted your head, surprised he’d asked. “I don’t think so. It’s not really my thing.”
“Not your thing?” Eddie echoed, pretending to be scandalized. “But slow dances, bad punch, and awkward small talk—it’s the highlight of high school.”
You laughed softly, the sound making his chest feel warm. “Maybe if I had a good reason to go, I’d consider it.”
Eddie bit his tongue, stopping himself from blurting out something stupid. Instead, he just nodded. “Well, if you change your mind… you never know.”
For days, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about you. He’d never been one for dances or anything that screamed “traditional high school experience,” but for you, he’d make an exception.
“Dude, just ask her,” Dustin urged as they packed up after Hellfire one afternoon.
Eddie sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. “It’s not that easy, Henderson. She’s… different. She’s not into guys like me.”
“You don’t know that,” Dustin argued. “She talked to you, didn’t she? That’s a good sign.”
Eddie hesitated, but Dustin’s words stuck with him.
The week before the dance, Eddie found you sitting alone outside the library, flipping through the pages of another book. His heart raced as he approached, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.
You looked up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. “Oh, hey, Eddie.”
He shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous. “So, uh, about the formal… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to go. With me. As, like, my date.”
Your eyes widened, and for a moment, Eddie thought he’d made a huge mistake. But then you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds.
“I’d love to,” you said simply.
The night of the formal, Eddie picked you up in his van, his heart pounding as he saw you step outside in a simple but beautiful dress.
“You look… wow,” he said, his usual bravado gone.
“Thanks,” you replied, blushing. “You look great too.”
Eddie, in his mismatched suit and messy hair, didn’t feel particularly great, but the way you smiled at him made him believe you meant it.
At the dance, the two of you stuck to the edges of the gym, laughing at the cheesy decorations and bad song choices. But then, the opening chords of “Be My Baby” started playing, and Eddie’s breath caught.
“Wanna dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.
You nodded, letting him lead you onto the floor. As the music swelled, he held you close, his heart racing as your head rested on his shoulder.
“You know,” he murmured, “I never thought I’d end up at a dance like this. But now that I’m here… it’s not so bad.”
You smiled against his shoulder. “Me neither. But I’m glad I came.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his voice hopeful.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “With you, it’s perfect.”
And as the song played on, Eddie knew he’d never forget this moment—or you
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#eddie munson fluff#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#be my baby
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señor ginger 𖦹 CS55
PAIRINGS: carlos sainz x female!reader
SUMMARY: just you, carlos, your daughter gabriela, and her señor ginger.
REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.
WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named daughter, food (gingerbread cookies), typos, and few gramatical errors
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
AUTHOR’S NOTE: hiii. as you all know, i’m taking a break and been practicing to write in my own pace, but i can’t help but post something christmas related one shot! so this is the first one—a carlos one shot! also, i’m working on the my series as well, hoping that i get to finish and post a new part before 2025. i’ve been writing whenever i get ideas, but i’m taking my time as well so i can’t wait to post it soon. i’ve managed to write a few for lando, but i’m 50/50 about it lol. as for the requests, it will be vvvv slow but i’m working on it too. i hope you’ll enjoy this one!
The crisp Swiss air welcomed you as you strolled through the mall with Carlos, your fingers entwined with his. The polished floors reflected the warm glow of holiday lights, and soft carols played faintly in the background, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Ahead of you, Gabriela bounced with uncontainable energy, her little boots tapping against the tiles. Her curls bobbed with her movement, and every now and then she would turn to you both with a wide grin, her excitement evident in her sparkling eyes.
“Mamá! Papá! Look!” she exclaimed, pointing toward a quaint bakery adorned with festive decorations.
The window display showcased an array of intricately designed gingerbread men and tiny, colorful gingerbread houses, each one of them looking like they belonged in a fairytale. Without waiting for a response, Gabriela darted forward, her tiny hands pressed against the glass as she peered inside.
“Careful, cariño.” Carlos called out, voice laced with amusement and mild concern.
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you exchanged a knowing smile before following her. When you reached her, Gabriela spun around to face you, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement.
“Mamá! Papá! Can we buy one? Please?” she pleaded, her wide eyes impossible to resist.
“Okay, which one do you want, solntse?” you asked softly. She pressed a finger to her lips, scrutinizing the display with all the seriousness of a child making the most important decision of her life.
“That one!” she declared finally, pointing to a gingerbread man decorated with a bright red scarf and tiny buttons. “He’s the prettiest!” Carlos chuckled, stepping forward to open the bakery door for the two of you.
“Prettiest? You mean handsomest, no?” he teased, ruffling Gabriela’s hair as she followed you inside.
“No, Papa!” Gabriela giggled, shaking her head. “He’s pretty! Look at his scarf!” she insisted, her tone firm as she held her ground.
The warmth of the bakery enveloped you, carrying the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. A friendly staff member approached with a bright smile.
“What a lovely family,” they said, their eyes softening when they looked at Gabriela. “And what a gorgeous little girl!”
Gabriela beamed at the compliment, standing a little taller, face pressed on the glass counter, her breath fogging the glass slightly as she examined the colorful array of gingerbread men.
“I want the gingerbread man with the red scarf, please!” she said confidently, pointing at her chosen treat.
The staff member chuckled, carefully retrieving the gingerbread man and wrapping it in delicate parchment paper. “Good choice! He’s one of our favorites too. Do you like gingerbread, sweetheart?”
Gabriela nodded enthusiastically. “Uh huh! He’s my new friend!”
“Such a little sweetheart,” the staff member cooed, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Gabriela. “Enjoy your gingerbread man, sweetheart.”
“Thank you!” Gabriela chirped, voice bright as she accepted the bag with both hands. She then turned back to you and threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. “Merci, Mamá! Merci, Papá!”
“Okay, you’re welcome mi amor.” Carlos replied warmly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. He stood and handed his card to the staff member, who smiled and nodded as she completed the transaction.
“Have a wonderful day!” the staff called as you exited the bakery, Gabriela skipping happily ahead of you with her prized gingerbread man in hand.
Outside, Gabriela twirled in delight, singing a little song she had improvised on the spot. “Gingy is my friend, gingy is so sweet, he has a red scarf, and shiny little feet!”
You and Carlos exchanged glances, both of you barely suppressing laughter as her song grew more elaborate.
“She’s quite a songwriter.” you said, leaning into Carlos as you walked side by side again.
“She’s something else.” Carlos murmured, slipping his arm around your waist.
“Well, she definitely takes after you.” you teased, earning a playful nudge from him.
Gabriela spun back towards you, holding the gingerbread man up as if introducing him to you both. “His name is Señor Ginger! Isn’t he cute, Mamá?”
“He’s adorable,” you agreed, crouching down to admire the little cookie. “And I think he’s lucky to have you.”
Gabriela beamed before running back to Carlos. “Papá, do you like Señor Ginger?”
Carlos scooped her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggled. “I think Señor Ginger is the luckiest gingerbread man in the world,” he said with a grin. “But you know what’s even better than gingerbread?”
“What is it, Papá?” Gabriela asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “When Señor Ginger gets to meet a glass of milk.”
“Papá!” Gabriela’s laughter rang out again as she wrapped her arms around Carlos, her excitement bubbling over. “You’re very silly!”
Gabriela kept babbling about Señor Ginger with a mix of giggles and how he’s the best gingerbread man ever, her endless chatter filling up the air. Watching her with happiness, Carlos pressed a quick kiss to your temple.
“This is the best kind of day, no?” he murmured, eyes lingering on yours.
You smiled, your heart full. “It really is.”
Later that night, the dinner was peaceful. The soft hum of conversation between you and Carlos, and clinking of plates and silverware filling the air. Gabriela finished her meal faster than either of you, she pushed her plate away, and wiped her mouth with her napkin with a satisfied sigh, legs swinging beneath her chair. She then looked up at you with those wide, sparkling hazel eyes.
“Mamá,” she began sweetly, voice carrying a note of hope, “can I please eat my gingerbread man now?”
“Alright, but you have to be careful not to make a mess, okay?” you said as you stood up to retrieve the gingerbread man from the counter.
“Okay, Mamá!” Gabriela’s face lit up as she wriggled in her seat, eagerly waiting for her treat.
You returned with the carefully gingerbread man, sitting back down beside her as you carefully opened the festive packaging.
“Here you go,” you said as she squealed in delight, then the cookie on her plate, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Make sure you use your plate to catch the crumbs, so we don’t have any little ant trails later, alright?”
“Yes, Mamá. I promise!” she said, her tiny hands gently cradling the gingerbread man before taking her first excited bite.
You watched as she chewed happily, legs swinging under the table, and humming. Carlos leaned in, with his arms crossed on top of the table, his gaze fixed on Gabriela.
“Is it good, princesa?” he asked, voice soft and curious.
“Yes, Papá!” she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a very yummy cookie!” Gabriela held up the gingerbread man proudly, but you couldn’t help noticing something.
“Solntse,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, “who are you eating?”
“My gingerbread man,” she said matter-of-factly, holding the cookie up for you to see. The head of the cookie was already missing, a clean bite taken out of it.
“Oh no! Señor Ginger!” you exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand over your mouth in mock surprise. “He doesn’t have a head anymore!”
Carlos, catching on to your game immediately, glanced at you with a knowing look, his lips twitching as he tried his best not to laugh. Gabriela looked down at her cookie, brows furrowing slightly as she began to process your words.
“Awe, bye bye Señor Ginger,” you continued, tone playful. “Señor Ginger doesn’t have his head anymore. Solntse, who ate Señor Ginger’s head?” you asked, voice filled with mock seriousness.
Gabriela’s lip began to tremble as she stared at the headless cookie in her hands. Her big, round hazel eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.
“Mamá…” she whispered, voice breaking. Carlos couldn’t hold back a quiet chuckle, shaking his head softly.
“Don’t cry, mi amor,” he said, leaning in closer to her. “It’s food, remember? Señor Ginger is supposed to be eaten.”
You leaned forward, voice gentle but teasing, asking her, “is the cookie good, solntse?”
She nodded slowly, lips still trembling as a tear slid down her cheek. Gabriela did not answer, she just bit into the cookie again, her small sniffles tugging at your heartstrings.
“Then why are you crying, mon chou?” you asked softly, reaching over to brush her cheek.
Gabriela didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on her plate as she took another careful bite, her little fingers clutching the gingerbread man tightly.
Carlos’ voice was soothing as he tried to comfort her. “Hey, it’s okay, mi amor. Señor Ginger is happy in your tummy now. He’ll give you lots of energy so you can play tomorrow, okay?” he wiped the tear mark stains on her cheeks. “No more crying, princesa.”
She sniffed again, glancing up at him with wide, watery eyes. Gabriela nodded, finally calming down enough to take another bite, though her pout remained.
“Can Mamá have a bite?” you asked as you leaned in, reaching a hand toward her plate.
“No!” she declared firmly as she pulled the cookie closer to her chest, eyes narrowing protectively.
Both you and Carlos burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room and melting away Gabriela’s remaining tears.
“I guess Señor Ginger is all hers.” Carlos said, grinning at you as you shook your head in amusement.
#Spotify#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#carlos sainz#carlos sainz 55#cs55#carlos sainz x female!reader#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x wife!reader#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#cs55 fluff#cs55 imagine#cs55 fic#cs55 one shot#cs55 x reader#cs55 x you#cs55 x y/n
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just finished act 3 and I need more Sevika to cope with my emotions about it :’)
can we get some mundane ways Sevika is obsessed with us? like I gotta believe the tiniest things the reader does make her sit there and gaze and think about how in love she is (as well as probably make her horny). I firmly believe this woman would watch you brush your teeth and be enamored and turned on at the same time 😮💨
(your writings been keeping me sane all throughout arcane btw 🫶)
hehehehe yes
men and minors dni
watching you struggle to clasp your bra in the early morning is one of the strangest things that sevika adores watching you do.
it's by no means attractive. you're still half asleep, contorting your body as you try to get the clasps to align properly and make sure there are no twists in the straps-- but sevika's fucking enamored. she loves the frustrated, sleepy look on your face, she loves the way that you never manage to line the clasps up properly.
she'll usually reach out to help you in your struggle, kissing your shoulders as you sigh and thank her.
"'y need the kind that clasp in the front, love." she chuckles.
"then you wouldn't get your little show every morning." you point out. sevika grins.
"good point."
sevika loves it when you make a mess while eating food.
she loves looking up across the table and finding you grinning, your cheeks puffed out with food, a bit of sauce on your chin or shirt.
she loves pulling you in with an exasperated little chuckle, licking her thumb and cleaning up your mess. "you missed your mouth." she teases. you smile up at her as her thumb's rubbing turns into gentle sweeps across your cheekbone. "you're a mess." she sighs dreamily.
you reach out and dip your finger in the sauce of your dinner, swiping it over your lips. "whoops!" you giggle. sevika grins. "better lick me clean, sev."
she leans in and does just that.
in the mornings, you'll apply sevika's lipstick for her, holding her chin gently between your fingers while you swipe her favorite color over her plush lips.
sevika's favorite part of this whole process isn't the gentle way you hold her, or the soft puffs of your breath on her face. it isn't even the smile and smooch you place on her lips when you're finished to blot them.
her favorite part of this little ritual is the subconscious way you pucker your lips as you trace hers, like you're copying her facial expression.
she thinks it's your way of non-verbally telling her to pucker her own lips, but you never put your lips back once she does, holding your kissy face the entire time you paint her lips, before smiling at your work and actually kissing her.
it drives her fucking crazy.
one night, sevika comes home to find you cooking dinner wearing a big pair of sunglasses. she frowns at you. "'re you hungover or something?" she asks.
"huh?" you ask from where you're stirring the veggies. sevika gently taps the glasses and you giggle, pulling them off your face. "oh, shit! i forgot i was wearing these, i can see so much better now!" you laugh.
sevika grins. "why were you wearing sunglasses inside?" she asks.
"i was chopping onions, i didn't wanna cry." you say with a shrug.
she doesn't know how or why, but your answer makes sevika impossibly horny for you. "oh, fuck, i love you so bad." she groans, pulling you in for a long, sloppy kiss.
you gasp against her lips, only to melt against her, letting her pin you to the counter top and kiss the breath out of you.
by the time sevika pulls away, your stirfry's burnt.
you don't mind, though.
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୨୧ a very klutzy christmas ; lh43
➪ summary: something always seemed to go wrong when luke hughes, y/n y/l/n and the Christmas spirit were put in the same place together
➪ warnings: reader is klutzy, being late, forgetting things, running into people (?)
➪ word count: 3.2k
➪ file type: fic - ho ho hockey!
➪ cupid's notes: part of ho ho hockey! i'm so excited for you guys to read this fic, it was supposed to be a four times their christmases were less than ideal but i got carried away with writing this one that i just decided to leave it at this! if you guys want me to write the other three i definitely can, just let me know :)
© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here
“Luke c’mon! We have to go, we’re already late.”
She bounced on her feet as she waited to hear the footsteps of her boyfriend, every passing second felt like an eternity. She flicked her eyes down to her watch, groaning at the time it displayed. They were supposed to have left over half an hour ago, and for once it wasn’t her fault that her boyfriend’s family was sitting around their house waiting for them to arrive.
“Luke, I swear if you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’m going to lose my shit!”
And exactly 30 seconds later she heard the footsteps of her boyfriend climbing down the stairs, pulling his sweater on that was no doubt what she had laid out for him the night before. He jumped off the last step, ruffling his hand through his hair, flashing her a smile, “I’m ready.”
She only stared at him, anger shining in her eyes. Luke simply walked over and placed a kiss on her cheek, giving her an innocent look, “Don’t be mad at me.”
“We were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, probably more now, and you’re over here taking your sweet ass fucking time-”
“Baby calm down, look at me,” He placed his hands on her arms, looking down at her with a comforting smile, “Everything's going to be okay. They’re not going to be mad at you, they’re not going to be mad at all. Well, maybe my mom will be but definitely not at you. Take a deep breath, alright?”
She sighed and ran a shaky hand over her coat, “Fine, but I’m still mad because I have to wear this,” she pulled on her red turtleneck, “because someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”
Luke’s boyish grin made its way onto his face as he slipped his new sneakers on, moving to open the door for her, “M’lady.”
She stepped through the doorway, making her way down the hallway as Luke trailed behind her, easily catching up to throw an arm around her shoulder and place a kiss on her temple. She softened slightly and looked up at him, a small smile gracing her lips.
Maybe she was over-stressing just a little bit. It would be her and Luke’s ‘second’ Christmas together, but only her first with his family and it was getting to her head. She had met his family plenty of times before, even spending the summer at the lake house, and spending countless nights at Luke’s old apartment with Jack before he moved in with her. But something about the Christmas energy made her nervous, and something always seemed to go wrong when you put Luke Hughes, y/n y/l/n, and the Christmas spirit together.
゚+*:୨୧:*﹤
The car ride to the Hughes’ house was quick and familiar, y/n watching the snow fall with nothing short of amusement and nervousness. Luke’s hand rested on her thigh, emanating a comforting feeling and a warmth that she could only associate with him.
She glanced over at him, watching as he removed his hand from her thigh to make the turn down his parents’ street. He was dressed in one of her favorite sweaters of his, it was a nice dark but muted blue that she always loved on him and the collar of his white dress shirt folded over the neckline. His legs were adorned with one of the many pairs of black jeans he owned and his favorite pair of new white sneakers on his feet.
Luke looked over at her, a smirk on his face once he caught her staring, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, but thankfully the darkness that settled at only 4:00 pm covered it well. He held out his hand, making a small gesture to get her to place hers in his. Once she did, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, “Whatcha lookin’ at pretty girl?”
“You.” Y/n replied in a murmur, curling up in the car seat as best as she could, “I did a good job at picking out your outfit.”
“‘Course you did, why do you think I let you?”
She only blushed more at his response, going back to look out the window just in time to see Ellen and Jim’s house come into view. A new wave of nerves settled over her as they pulled into the driveway. She felt Luke’s hand squeeze hers as he turned the car off, shifting to look at her.
Y/n looked over at him and smiled before glancing in the back seat. Her eyes widened as she saw the lack of her favorite Christmas dish, “Luke!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“We forgot the pie.” She groaned, sitting back in her seat and throwing her head back against the headrest, “Fucking hell.”
“Y/n/n it’s okay, they’re not gonna-”
“That’s not the point Luke. I promised your mom I would bring something and now I forgot it.”
Luke’s face settled into a pout at the disappointment that tainted her face. He reached for her hand again, clutching it between both of his, allowing his thumb to rub over her knuckles, “Baby, listen, please. I know how well you wanted today to be, how perfect you wanted it to be. And I understand that them not being mad isn’t the problem.
“But they love you, probably more than me. They’re not going to be upset because you were having to deal with your childish boyfriend.”
She glanced over at his teasing tone, a huge smile on his face once he saw her lips turn up. She only let out a small ‘humph’ before responding, “You’re always making dumb jokes at the most inappropriate times.”
“I’m just trying to get my girl to smile, is that such a crime these days?”
“I suppose not, but you still have to make it up to me.”
“And how do you propose I do that?” A mischievous glint lit in his eye as he leaned closer to her.
“I don’t know.” She murmured quietly before replicating his actions, meeting his lips over the center console.
Luke grinned into the kiss before pulling away and leaving a small kiss on her forehead, “Let’s go, yeah?”
She nodded as she pulled away, climbing out of the car. She pulled her coat tighter around her, watching as Luke opened the trunk and grabbed the presents, stacking them on top of each other.
“Be careful Lukas, you know what happened last year.”
He rolled his eyes, making his way up the front steps after slamming the trunk closed. He knocked on the front door just as y/n walked up beside him, looping her arm through his.
Soon, the door opened and Jim stood in the entry of the house, “Hey you two.”
“Hi, Mr. Hughes!”
Jim took the presents from his youngest son, before gesturing them into the house, “How many times have Ellen and I told you to just call us by our names, Y/n?”
A sheepish grin made her way to her face, stepping inside of the Hughes’ house, and immediately she was met with the comforting atmosphere of the home. She moved to slip off her boots, but Luke’s hand placed on her lower back stopped her, “I got you.”
This only made her face flush more as Luke knelt down and unzipped her boots, sliding them off with ease. Her nervousness didn’t falter, however, slightly stumbling as Luke pulled her into the kitchen where his mom stood, “Hi momma.”
Ellen looked up from what she was doing, smiling much like him, “Hi! Oh, Luke why’d make the poor girl wait to be here? Probably stressed her out a ton.” She pulled her son into a hug, squeezing him tightly as she pestered him.
As she pulled away, she turned her attention to his girlfriend, her smile getting even wider if that was possible, “Hello sweetheart. Thank you so much for coming, we’re so happy to have you.”
Y/n hugged her back, “Thank you for having me! And you’re right, Luke did make me stress.”
The woman only briefly pulled away to swat at her son’s arm, who held his hands up in surrender before making his way over to where his brothers were, whatever that may have been. Ellen finally pulled out of the hug to continue working on the mashed potatoes.
The girl raised up on her toes as a nervous habit, “Do you need any help?”
“If you want to! You can start setting the table if you wish, dear.”
As she grabbed the plates and started setting the table, she released a small sigh before speaking up, “Also, I may have sort of forgotten the pie. I had it in the fridge and then I just got so flustered before we left that I forgot it.”
“Oh honey, it’s okay. I made extra dessert anyways because Jack always eats all of it.”
“I do not. That is extremely hurtful.” Jack walked into the kitchen, hand brushing an invisible piece of fuzz off his shirt, “Quinn helps too.”
He wrapped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, bringing her into a side hug, “And nice to see you y/n/n. Good job at dressing Luke.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his words, a small smirk playing on her lips, “I do try to make sure my boyfriend is dressed nicely. It seems you don’t have anyone to help you.”
He scoffed playfully, “I am wounded. You are supposed to be on my side here too.”
“If you’re going to be in the kitchen, you are going to be helping. Help y/n set the plates- Don’t whine at me, Jack.”
He grumbled, taking a stack of forks into his hands and placing them on the side of the plates.
“Forks go on the left, Jacky. Knives go on the right, ” Y/n teased, now placing napkins on top of each plate, laughing as she heard another annoyed groan from him and watched his eyes roll.
゚+*:୨୧:*﹤
After a while, dinner was nearing ready, y/n having spent most of the time in the kitchen talking with Ellen and helping out when she could. She wiped her hands on her skirt, trying to rid herself of the sweat that clung to them.
“I’m just going to run to the bathroom quickly if that’s okay?”
Ellen laughed, “You don’t need to ask to go to the bathroom, hon. Just go, I’ll be fine here.”
She blushed, another wave of embarrassment washed over her as she took in her words, “Right.”
She started walking out of the kitchen, scolding herself softly at her actions, stop embarrassing yourself. She froze halfway out of the kitchen, backtracking once she realized she didn’t actually know where the bathroom was, “Mrs- Ellen? Where exactly is-”
“Down the hall and to your left, baby.” A hand fell on her shoulder and a kiss was placed on her temple.
She turned to look at who it was, grinning when she saw the familiar face of her boyfriend, a lopsided grin that practically matched her own on his face. He kissed her head again, wrapping her up in a hug. He hadn’t seen her since they arrived, catching up with his dad and oldest brother in the living room as they watched whatever sports game was on.
“Missed you.” He murmured into her ear, squeezing her a little tighter afterward.
“We’ve only been separated for what? 40 minutes?”
“Doesn’t matter, still missed you.”
They stayed like that for a minute before she reminded him softly that she had to go to the bathroom. He pulled away and walked over to his mom, starting up a conversation about something she had no clue about. She was already heading out of the kitchen and down the hallway when she heard them talk.
She got halfway to the bathroom, looking down at her feet as she thought to herself, when her head knocked against something, groaning in pain, “Mother fucker-” She blinked the tears away that stung in her eyes, clutching her head.
Once the tears were cleared enough that she could see, she saw Jack standing there, mirroring her actions with a hand to his head. He had been just heading out of the bathroom when it happened, thoughts also racing in his mind causing him to not look where he was going when he ran into her, heads meeting.
“Fucking hell that hurt.” He exclaimed, rubbing at the spot on his forehead that took most of the impact.
They didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just trying to ease their rapidly growing headaches. Once they both got it calmed down enough, they stared at each other before letting out laughs of amusement, “We really need to pay better attention to where we’re walking huh?”
“Yeah, I don’t need everyone to stare at my forehead and then explain that the Jack Hughes caused the bump.”
He ushered her forehead, planning to get him and y/n ice packs from the freezer, but when she took a step, black dots clouded at the edge of her vision causing her to stumble, just barely catching herself against the wall. She heard Jack’s curse, leaning into him as an arm came around her waist, “You okay?”
“Dizzy.” She murmured back, closing her eyes and opening them again, hopes of clearing her fuzzy vision failing.
“Hold on. Luke!”
Y/n winced at Jack’s yell, pain worsening in her head. She could only give a soft nod of acknowledgment at his whispered apology, holding onto him tighter as she felt the overwhelming dizzy feeling wash over her.
Luke came walking out of the kitchen, eyes drifting down the hallway, “What’re you yelling for?”
His gaze fell upon his brother and girlfriend, huddled together against a wall, a worried expression on the former and a pained one on the other, “What happened? Is she okay?”
He walked briskly to get to the two, immediately taking his girlfriend into his arms, pressing multiple soft kisses to her head, and rubbing her arm up and down, “What’s going on?”
“We knocked our heads together, was going to get us ice packs when she stumbled. Said she felt dizzy.”
“I’m fine, just dizzy like he said.”
Luke shook his head, tucking her into his side safely, walking them back to the kitchen to sit down, “Let’s get you some ice, sweet girl, c’mon.”
He sat her down on a chair, brushing the hair away from her face. He heard Jack mumble something to their mom but his focus was solely on his girlfriend, cupping her face and looking over her head. She winced as his thumb brushed over the point of impact, shaking her head slightly at his apology.
There was a tap on Luke’s shoulder, Ellen now standing behind him with an ice pack wrapped in a towel in her hand, “Here. Put this on her forehead for ten minutes and then take it off.”
He nodded, taking the ice pack from her and placing it gently on y/n’s forehead. Ellen smiled softly before switching her gaze to the girl, “How’re you doing?”
“Could be worse,” she murmured, blinking slowly to clear her vision again. “Has to be the first time I’ve knocked heads with someone this hard.”
“That’s just because Jack has a big head.” A new voice entered the room and as best as she could, she moved her eyes to find the third Hughes brother.
“I do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not!”
“Would you shut up?” Luke asked exasperated, pressing the ice pack a little harder into his girlfriend’s head as she winced from the noise.
“Sorry.” The two murmured.
“S’okay. Just fight quieter please if you’re going to fight.” She spoke up, leaning into the cold compress.
They nodded taking their seats at the table as they watched their younger brother and his girlfriend. Luke slowly took the icepack away from her head, placing it on the ground next to her chair. He moved the hair that had fallen back into her face, tucking it behind her ear, “You feeling better?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He stands up, placing a kiss on her temple before sitting down next to her. The six of them start eating, easily falling into a conversation about hockey even after the multiple attempts Ellen had to end it. Y/n doesn’t mind it, her head is still pounding and even the thought of thinking about hockey is hurting it more.
She eats the majority of the food Luke has placed on her plate, taking her time and pushing it around slightly. She feels bad, she doesn’t want Ellen to feel like she doesn’t like the food, but it’s hard for her to focus right now and the knocking her head against Jack’s has left her more tired than she was when she arrived.
゚+*:୨୧:*﹤
After dinner, the six of them all clean up, or y/n tries to and then is scolded by Luke and his mom to sit on the chair or go into the living room and lie down. So that’s where she was when Luke came and found her, curled up on one side of the couch, her head resting on the armrest.
“Hey,” he kisses her softly, sitting down next to her, “You want to head out?”
She went to protest, saying they hadn’t opened their gifts or even had dessert yet but the idea of going home sounded really appealing, so she nodded, using Luke’s help to stand up. They walked back to the kitchen, informing everyone that they were going to be heading back home.
Luke grabbed the small platter of cookies and pieces of pie from his mom, y/n thanking her for him. They then made their way into the foyer where Luke helped her get her boots on, patting each thigh when he was done.
They said their goodbyes and then walked down the driveway with gifts and dessert in hand, placing them in the backseat before climbing into the car.
“You sure you’re okay, baby?”
“Yeah, I feel better after eating.”
“That’s good.”
He pulled out of the driveway, making their way down the street when he heard her voice, “Can’t believe the first Christmas with your family we show up late, we forget the pie and I knocked heads with your brother.”
He chuckled, “Honestly, did you expect anything less?”
She thought about it, and no she didn’t expect less. Ever since she and Luke met their Christmases had been less than ideal. When they met, she knocked into him at a coffee shop, successfully spilling coffee all over herself and Luke. On their first Christmas together, Luke broke his gift for her, and she had to deal with a flustered and anxious Luke. And now this.
“You’re right. I think we’re just destined to have dumbass Christmases.”
“Hey, at least it’ll be my turn next year. Let’s hope I don’t break something.”
゚+*:୨୧:*﹤
He did indeed break something, his arm. He was setting up Christmas lights around their house, it would be the first one in it. He didn’t know how it happened, all he knew was that one moment he was connecting sets of lights and the next he was on the ground clutching his arm in pain. It was a long night in the ER.
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Hi!! Loving dad! gojo :)
I love ballet and I love gojo, so could you do gojo bringing his cute little daughter to ballet class please?
twirl — gojo satoru x f!reader
a/n: hehe I am so happy dad!gojo is getting some love; hope you enjoy
“you got your water bottle?”
“mhm!”
“your shoes?”
“yup!”
“did you give mommy a kiss?”
“yeah!”
“good girl; now, do a twirl.”
she excitedly does as told and squeals in happiness when satoru picks her up and spins her around, “that’s my pretty little princess!”
he gently puts her down and she holds his index finger. he blows you a kiss then bends to tell her, “say bye to mommy.”
“bye, mommy! I love you!”
you chuckle, “I love you too, sweetie! have fun!”
and so satoru embarks on a journey to d/n’s ballet class.
the car ride is full of d/n’s favorite songs accompanied by her dad’s horrible singing that she somehow likes.
when he gets there, he notices that he is the only dad there, save for two other cool dads.
the mothers are also completely enamored by satoru, and while another time he would boast in the attention, his priority right now is his daughter, his daughter that looks very scared and nervous.
he sits on the ground so he is at eye level with her, “what’s up, pretty?”
she pads her way into his arms, and he instantly embraces her. he gently pats her back, and the last thing on his mind is how uncomfortable the position is for him. her little hands clutch his shirt, “what if I do bad?”
“I know you will do amazing,” he grins and squishes her cheeks, “and even if you do, mistakes are okay, and most importantly, daddy’s always here to save the day!”
d/n nods with a small smile. she gives him a tight hug, before she pulls back and starts fidgeting with her fingers. she looks up to him with matching azure eyes, “can you dance with me?”
he abruptly stands up then points at a small boy, “get me a tutu!”
and that’s how you found your husband killing it with d/n on her ballet class.
they did have to put him further away from the kids because of his gigantic legs, but he is still having the time of his life. d/n is also very entertained with her dad and is trying to copy his every move, completely forgetting about the ballet teacher.
the mothers are also very amused by the act, with some nudging their husbands to do the same. little do they know that satoru is unmatched in whatever he tries, especially when he is trying to impress his little princess.
she starts squealing and jumping in place, “daddy, you’re so cool!”
he spins around before stopping to peck her cheek, “thank you, cutie!”
“satoru, what are you—?”
“wifey!” he screams before launching at you and pulling you into one big bear hug. of course, satoru is a show-off, and he likes to make a statement. that’s why he dips you and kisses you in front of everyone in the room. he pulls you back up, chuckling at your shocked expression.
“mommy! mommy!” she dashes to you and hugs your leg. she then quickly looks at satoru, tugging on his pants, “daddy!” she points at her cheek, “kiss, please!”
he swiftly picks her up and starts peppering her face with kisses and you watch with a warm smile. after he is done with his ambush, he sets her down with another hug. she looks a lot more confident and is willing to go on and try again by herself.
satoru is about to declare his mission successful, but someone rudely interrupts his victory dance.
a boy shyly makes his way towards d/n, who is right beside satoru. the boy looks at the ground, a pink hue coating his cheeks. he starts to murmur softly, “um, h—hi; I am—“
satoru crouches on the ground and stares at the boy. the kid is clutching a freaking rose. your husband’s dad instincts go off and he turns the boy around and lightly pushes him away, “go play with your friends, buddy.”
the boy turns back to satoru, but, this time, he is frowning at the man, “I wanna give d/n a flower!”
“well, I am here to do that, so you can go away,” satoru stands up proudly, “and! I give her flowers, not just one!”
the boy’s frown deepens and he turns to his friends and whistles for them to come over. quickly, a gang of 6 year old boys are at satoru’s feet. the boy points at satoru, “this man won’t let me give d/n a flower…attack!”
and because your husband’s petty like that, he keeps his infinity on and doesn’t flinch in the slightest. the kids keep trying to punch and kick him, but he doesn’t falter. he grins smugly at you, and you merely roll your eyes with a smile.
meanwhile, d/n already went to continue her class like nothing is happening.
you have no idea how the parents or ballet teacher are letting these kids ‘gang up’ on your husband, but you guess that everyone wants some entertainment every once in a while. plus, most of the kids got tired and ditched the ambush anyway.
now, no one is left but the flower boy.
the poor kid is panting and struggling as he looks up at the smug man. satoru smiles at you, turning off his infinity, “see, babe? told ya nothing can—“
the little boy has kicked your husband’s shin, harshly too. he huffs, holding back tears, “you’re a meanie!” he runs away to his mom, leaving satoru to hold his leg in pain.
you frown sympathetically at the boy, “satoru, you made him cry.”
“well, you’re going to make me cry with how little you care about how I am in pain right now!”
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I was wondering if you could do a miniso penguin reader being a delivery boy for all of hell (mostly hazbin)
I JUST LOOKED IT UP AND OMGGGG ITS SO CUTEEE🦆💗🦆 AND YES I WILL! THANK YOU MY GHOST
HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER
prompt: you deliver mail all over hell, but mostly to your favorite place!
Okay starters off….you definitely get petted by the sinners who walk by you. Like you are so adorable!
I headcannon that you have a magic barrier that activates when you are in danger. Like say for example, a sinner tried to stab and mug but a bubble appears around you as you quack and roll away.
But like…you are the most known person in hell. YOU COULD BE WALKING AND GIVING MAIL AND IMMEDIATELY- “Hey [reader]!”
Yeah you’re quite known🦆🔥
The overlords love you! Carmilla adores you as you help her move her things around with her supplies of angelic metal. And Alastor….he joked about eating you up because of how cute you are..you definitely hide behind carmilla as she glared at him.
Alastor said sorry as he buys you ice cream for scaring you. (Charlie made him do it after carmilla snitched on him)
The most place you love giving mail to is the hazbin hotel! You like it there as you always get greeted by the people there gently. Charlie would pet you as she gushes how cute you are and how you should’ve been an angel.
Husk just pokes at your chubby and cute body as you quack and rub your face in his leg. You are the size of a penguin so guess how small you are 😭💗
You and fat nuggets are best friends, dead ass you both speak animal to each other and just gossip… “quack…” “oink oink..” “QUACK?!” You yelled pointing to Alastor as fat nuggets nodded seriously. Angel tried to record it but he just couldn’t help but laugh
Lucifer loves you! Like at first he would just watch you around hell secretly as he didn’t want to scare you off too easy. But soon he felt over protective at how pure and nice you are to other sinners and hell born
I headcannon every time it’s extermination, you would be forced to be at the hotel as you bake cookies to past the time helping Charlie and the other feel less stress as the angels kill the sinners.  
“So like…do you lay eggs or somethin'?” Angel asked looking at the egg boiz under you as they are sound asleep. You just stay there like a mama penguin as you shrugged.
“[READER] I CHOSE YOU!” Vaggie yells as you waddle to a person and hug them in need. Its funny to imagine you being used a Pokémon who’s only attack is “HUG SURPRISE!”
I headcannon you to use a rolling attack. LIKE FOR EXAMPLE, you are getting chased so you roll like a ball and BOWLING BALL THEY ASS! STRIKEEE‼️‼️
You have a room in the hotel, it’s just you don’t stay there often. But the other would loved if you stayed at the hotel with them as they find you lovely to around. Like imagine how cool it is to be tired from delivering mail all day just to go to the hotel and see your own room.
Immediately passing out in the soft bed😭🦆
I imagine you walking, more like waddling and the egg boiz just copy your waddling as they are still baby chickens in eggs.
Velvette definitely has you go to her section of the vee tower so you can wear those cute sailor boy outfits 😭 like imagine how cute that is….
Sir Pentious and nifty love you also as they find you adorable. The egg boiz love you, and nifty….she just finds you interesting how every sinner knows who you are and wants to be your best friend.
I can see you being sick and not coming to deliver mail to the hotel, and immediately you wake up sniffling as you waddle to your door to see a bunch of gift baskets as you quack surprised at all those candies and get better cards….man you are loved
#penguin#penguin! reader#penguin! reader x hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x gn reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader
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birthday girl
pairings: wednesday x reader
word count: 5.2k
warnings: none really, kissing and swearing here and there.
summary: wednesday was born november 13th, 2006, it’s her birthday soon so enid- being overly invested in your relationship- convinces you to plan a birthday surprise. you steal a very expensive book and put together an addams family themed escape room.
a/n: i’ve written quite a few fics since august so i’m just doing a little clear out of my drafts. apologies in advance for any mistakes. i’m no edgar allan poe expert, don’t come for me if the price is wrong.
MASTERLIST
It’s officially November. Wednesday’s birth month. You wasn’t planning on doing anything for it out of respect to her boundaries but Enid’s constant yapping in your ear brought you to the brink of insanity.
“Jesus! Fine, Enid… We’ll plan something, okay? Stop talking my ear off.”
Enid squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, yes! This is going to be so much fun!"
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Enid's enthusiasm was infectious, even if her ideas were sometimes a bit... much.
"Alright, let's brainstorm," Enid said, plopping down onto your bed next to you. "What does Wednesday like? Besides death and darkness, I mean."
You chuckled. "Well, she seems to enjoy solving mysteries and puzzles. And she has a thing for creepy crawlies… Dead things…”
Enid wrinkled her nose in distaste but nodded. "Okay, so maybe not a spa day then. How about a murder mystery party? We could invite everyone and have them dress up in costume!"
You shook your head. "Wednesday doesn't really do 'parties' or 'people'. She'd probably just end up killing someone for real."
"Good point," Enid sighed. "Hmm… What about a private escape room experience? Just the two of you, working together to solve some kind of creepy puzzle. That way it's intimate but still fits her interests."
You considered it. That actually didn't sound half bad. "Yeah, I could see her getting into that. Let me look into it."
Enid beamed. "Perfect! Oh, and don't forget her favorite foods - bugs and gross stuff. You could make her a special birthday cake with... I don't know, worms or something?"
You made a face. "I have to draw the line somewhere, Enid. I may love her, but I'm not putting actual worms in a cake… I’m not touching worms.” You grimace, a shiver running down your spine at the thought.
Enid pouted but nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. I guess you could always just make it look like there are worms in it. You know, like those chocolate bugs they sell online? That might be more her speed anyway.”
You shake your head firmly. "No food. Definitely no bugs or anything gross. I'm drawing the line there."
Enid sighs. "Alright, alright. No bugs in the food. But we need to get her something, right? Like a present?"
You nod, considering Enid's suggestion. "Yeah, a present is a good idea. But what do you get for the girl who has everything? Especially when 'everything' is basically just death-related shit."
Enid taps her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... Maybe something personalized? Like a custom-made necklace with a little vial pendant that holds a drop of your blood or something."
You cringe. "Uh, no. Definitely not going to give her bloody jewelry. That's just weird."
"Okay, okay," Enid says, holding up her hands in surrender. "How about a book then? Like a rare edition of some creepy classic literature?"
You mull it over. Wednesday does love to read. "That's not a bad idea actually. I could look for a first edition copy of one of her favorite Edgar Allan Poe stories or something.“
Enid claps her hands together. "Yes! Oh, and you could inscribe it with a little personal message inside the cover. Something like 'To my darling Wednesday, may your days be as dark as your soul.' "
“Where would I get the money though?”
Enid smiles slyly, leaning in closer. "Well, you could always ask your parents for some birthday money. Or... you could sell some of your old junk online. I bet there are a ton of weirdos out there who would pay top dollar for your crusty gym socks or used toothbrushes."
You make a disgusted face. "Ew, Enid! That's gross. I'm not selling my dirty laundry to some freaks on the internet."
"Suit yourself," Enid shrugs. "But if you change your mind, I know a guy who runs a pretty lucrative online market for this kind of thing. He's always looking for new... supplies."
—
A week later, you and Enid are hunched over your laptop, scouring online bookstores for the perfect rare edition for Wednesday.
"Ooh, look at this one!" Enid exclaims, pointing at the screen. "It's a first edition of 'The Tell-Tale Heart' published in 1843. And it comes with a handwritten note from Poe himself!"
You lean in to take a closer look. The book does look impressive, with its aged leather binding and yellowed pages. But the price tag makes your eyes bulge. "$25,000?! Are you insane?"
Enid pouts. "C'mon, it's a collector's item! And it's not every day you find something this rare. Wednesday would love it!"
You shake your head. "I can't afford that, Enid. I'm just a high school student… I’ll steal it.. Where’s the store located?”
You lean back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Stealing a rare book from a specialized antique store sounds like a terrible idea, but you're desperate to impress Wednesday. Plus, you've always been pretty good at breaking and entering.
"The store is downtown, near the old theater district," Enid says, squinting at the screen. "It's called 'The Raven's Nest' - fitting, right? They specialize in rare horror literature and occult artifacts."
You smirk. "The Raven's Nest... I like it. Okay, here's the plan: we'll case the joint tonight, figure out their security system. Then tomorrow night, I'll break in and grab the book while you keep watch outside."
Enid looks nervous. "Are you sure about this? I mean, what if you get caught? What if there's some kind of magical protection on the book?"
You roll your eyes. "There's no such thing as magic, Enid. And I won't get caught - I'm the fucking master thief of Nevermore Academy.”
—
As you and Enid walk down the darkened streets of downtown, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. The anticipation of pulling off this heist and surprising Wednesday with the perfect gift is almost too much to bear.
"Alright, here's the plan," you whisper to Enid as you approach the old brick building that houses The Raven's Nest. "I'm gonna scope out the back entrance while you check out the front. See if you can spot any security cameras or alarm systems."
Enid nods nervously, clutching her jacket tight around herself. "Got it. But be careful, okay? I don't want you ending up in jail or worse..."
You flash her a cocky grin. "Relax, Enid. I've got this. Nothing can stop me once I set my mind to something."
With that, you split up, each of you slipping into the shadows to survey the store. The back alley is dimly lit, with only a single flickering bulb casting a weak glow. You notice a rusty fire escape leading up to a second-story window - the perfect entry point.
Enid shivers, pulling her collar up against the chill night air. She scans the front of the building, noting the ornate iron gate and the dim lights from inside. There seem to be cameras positioned above the door, but no obvious alarms.
You quietly ascend the fire escape, each step sending a faint creak echoing through the alley. At the window, you peer inside, spotting rows of shelves packed with dusty tomes and strange artifacts. In the center of the room, a glass case catches your eye - and inside it, the priceless first edition of "The Tell-Tale Heart".
You carefully pry open the window, wincing as the old hinges let out a soft groan. With a deep breath, you hoist yourself inside, landing softly on the creaky wooden floorboards. The musty smell of old books and mothballs fills your nostrils as you creep through the shadowy aisles, your heart pounding in your chest.
As you approach the glass case, you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the ancient tome. The leather cover is worn and cracked with age, but the gold lettering still glints in the dim light. You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brush against the cool glass.
Just then, a sudden noise from the front of the store makes you freeze. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing louder with each passing second. You glance around frantically, searching for a place to hide, but the open layout of the shop offers little cover.
Panic rising in your throat, you duck behind a nearby shelf, praying that whoever it is won't spot you. The footsteps grow closer, accompanied by the jingle of keys and the click of a lock being undone.
You hold your breath, pressing your back against the wall as the footsteps draw nearer. Your heart hammers in your chest, threatening to give away your position. The shop door creaks open, and a beam of light slices through the darkness, illuminating a section of the floor just inches from where you're hiding.
"Who's there?" a gruff voice calls out. "I know someone's in here!"
You remain perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. The light from the doorway sweeps across the room, and you shrink further into the shadows, praying that your black clothes will camouflage you against the dimness.
The footsteps move closer, the owner of the shop clearly searching for the intruder. You consider making a run for it, but the thought of being caught red-handed with the stolen book makes you hesitate.
The owner's footsteps pause just outside the aisle where you're hiding. Your palms are slick with sweat as you grip the edge of the shelf, preparing to bolt if necessary. The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly, each one feeling like an eternity.
Suddenly, a hand reaches around the corner, grasping at the air mere inches from your face. You flinch instinctively, but manage to hold your ground, not daring to make a sound. The owner steps into view, his thick-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim light as he scans the area.
"I've got you now, you little thief," he growls, his breath hot and rank as it washes over you. "Come on out, hands where I can see them!"
Your mind races, desperately trying to formulate an escape plan. You could try to overpower him, but he's significantly larger than you, and the risk of him calling the police is too high. No, you need to be smart about this.
As the owner takes another step forward, you make your move. Ducking low, you sprint past him, heading straight for the back of the shop.
The owner bellows in anger, his heavy footsteps thundering after you. "Stop, thief! I'm calling the cops!"
You don't dare look back, pouring every ounce of speed into your desperate flight. Your lungs burn as you race through the cramped aisles, dodging past stacks of books and leaping over precariously balanced piles of occult trinkets.
Just as you're certain the owner is about to catch you, you spot the back door. With a burst of adrenaline, you lunge for it, your fingers scrabbling at the handle. The door swings open, revealing the darkened alley beyond.
You tumble out into the night, the cool air hitting your face like a slap. Behind you, the owner's furious shouts echo from the shop, followed by the shrill ring of a phone - no doubt calling the police.
You don't stop running until you're several blocks away, your chest heaving and your legs burning with exertion. Only then do you allow yourself a moment to catch your breath, leaning heavily against a brick wall as you gasp for air.
You turn to Enid who’d been running after you, “you’re an amazing lookout..” You mumble sarcastically.
Enid looks absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and her face pale in the moonlight. She's breathing hard, her chest heaving with each ragged gasp. "I... I tried to warn you," she stutters, her voice trembling. "I saw him coming in and I ran to find you, but... but you were already gone."
You push off the wall, your legs still shaky from the adrenaline rush. "It's okay," you say, trying to sound calmer than you feel. "We got away, that's what matters… I got the book.”
You pull the book from your jacket, holding it up in the moonlight. The leather cover glistens, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride at your successful heist.
Enid's eyes widen as she takes in the ancient tome. "Wow," she breathes, "you actually did it. You stole a first edition Poe book!"
You grin, tucking the book safely back into your jacket. "Of course I did. I told you, I'm the best thief in town."
Enid shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you just broke into a store and stole something. That's so... so..."
"Cool?" you suggest, raising an eyebrow.
Enid laughs nervously. "No, not cool. Crazy! You could have gotten in serious trouble."
You wave a dismissive hand. "But I didn't. And now Wednesday is going to have the most amazing birthday present ever."
Enid bites her lip, looking uncertain. "Are you sure about this? I mean, what if she finds out you stole it? She might be mad."
“She won’t. Trust me.”
—
After weeks of planning and anticipation, the day has finally arrived. You've managed to lure Wednesday out of the house under the pretense of a "special surprise", blindfolding her before she could ask too many questions. Now, as you guide her down the street towards the escape room, your heart is pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
"Where are we going?" Wednesday asks, her voice muffled by the blindfold. "This better not be some kind of lame party or something."
You can't help but chuckle at her grumpy tone. "Relax, Wednesday. It's nothing like that. Just trust me, okay? I promise you're going to love it."
Wednesday huffs but doesn't protest further, allowing you to lead her onwards. As you approach the escape room, you can feel a sense of anticipation building in your gut. You've put so much thought into this surprise, and you're determined to make it perfect.
The door to the escape room looms ahead, and you take a deep breath before pushing it open.
As you guide Wednesday inside, the blindfold is removed, revealing a dimly lit room decorated with eerie candles and macabre artwork. Wednesday blinks, her eyes adjusting to the gloom as she takes in her surroundings.
"What is this place?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Some kind of gothic-themed restaurant?"
You grin, shaking your head. "Nope. It's an escape room. And it's all for you, Wednesday. Happy early birthday."
Wednesday's eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing her usually stoic features. "An escape room? Seriously? You know I hate those tourist trap things."
You place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know, but this one is different. It's tailored specifically to your interests. Mysteries, puzzles, all that creepy stuff you love. Plus, it's just the two of us. No annoying strangers to deal with."
Wednesday narrows her eyes, studying you intently. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the catch? There's no way you'd actually think I'd enjoy some dumb escape room."
You can't help but smile at her skepticism. It's one of the things you love about Wednesday - her sharp mind and unwillingness to be fooled by empty gestures.
"No catch," you assure her, holding up your hands in a gesture of sincerity. "I know how much you love a good mystery, and I thought this would be a fun way to celebrate your birthday. Plus, I may have mentioned to the owners that you're a bit of an expert in this kind of thing. They're really excited to have you try it out."
Wednesday's expression softens slightly, a hint of curiosity sparking in her dark eyes. "They know about me? How?"
You shrug, trying to play it cool. "I may have dropped a few hints about your... unique skill set. But they were sworn to secrecy. This whole thing is just between us."
As you and Wednesday enter the dimly lit escape room, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement. The space is decorated with an eerie attention to detail, filled with cryptic symbols, antique furniture, and a general atmosphere of macabre intrigue.
Wednesday's eyes dart around the room, taking in every detail with a keen curiosity. "Looks like they did their research," she murmurs, running a finger along the spine of an ancient-looking book resting on a nearby table.
You nod, grinning with pride. "I told you, I made sure it was the perfect fit for you. And trust me, the best part is yet to come."
Wednesday raises an eyebrow, but before she can respond, a low, ominous voice echoes through the room. "Welcome, dear guests," it intones, "to the Addams Family Escape Room Experience."
Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes widening with surprise. "Wait, what?"
The voice continues, "In this immersive adventure, you'll navigate the twisted world of the Addams family, solving puzzles and unraveling secrets.”
The voice pauses dramatically before continuing, "Your objective is simple: escape the room before the clock strikes midnight, or risk being trapped forever in the Addams family's morbid mansion."
A sinister laugh echoes through the speakers, sending a shiver down your spine. Wednesday, meanwhile, seems entirely unfazed, her expression one of intense focus as she begins to examine the room more closely.
"Impressive," she admits grudgingly, running her fingers along the intricate carvings on a nearby bookshelf. "They've really captured the my family’s aesthetic."
Wednesday's eyes narrow as she takes in the details of the room, her mind already working to piece together the clues. The walls are adorned with eerie paintings and strange artifacts, each one seemingly hiding a hidden meaning or secret.
"Okay, let's start with the basics," Wednesday mutters, more to herself than to you. She begins to methodically search the room, her movements precise and purposeful.
As she works, you can't help but marvel at her incredible focus and deduction skills. It's like watching a predator stalk its prey, every action calculated and deliberate.
Wednesday pulls a dusty old book from the shelf, its pages yellowed and brittle. As she flips through the pages, her eyes widen. "Found something," she says, showing you a page filled with cryptic symbols and riddles.
You lean in closer, trying to decipher the message, but it's like reading a foreign language. "What does it say?" you ask, feeling a bit lost in the face of Wednesday's brilliance.
Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile as she traces her finger over the cryptic symbols. "It's a riddle," she explains, her voice low and conspiratorial. "A challenge, of sorts."
She reads the words aloud, her tone almost reverent:
"Seek the key that lies within
The heart of darkness, where the shadows begin."
Wednesday closes the book, her gaze sweeping the room once more. "Darkness, shadows... I wonder if that's literal or metaphorical."
She strides over to a large, ornate mirror hanging on the far wall. As she approaches, you notice a faint glow emanating from the frame, pulsing in time with some unseen heartbeat.
Wednesday reaches out, her fingers hovering just above the surface. "Interesting," she murmurs, her breath fogging the glass. "This could be it. The 'heart' of the room."
She turns to you, her eyes glinting with a newfound intensity. "I'm going to need you to do something for me," she says, her voice steady and commanding.
"I need you to stand behind me," Wednesday instructs, her voice low and authoritative. "And when I give the signal, I want you to push me against the mirror as hard as you can."
You blink, taken aback by her request. "What? Are you sure that's safe? I don't want to break it or hurt you."
Wednesday's eyes narrow, a hint of impatience flashing across her face. "Trust me, Y/N. I've done my research. This mirror is reinforced, designed to withstand pressure. It's part of the puzzle."
Still uncertain, you nevertheless comply, moving to stand behind her. Wednesday positions herself in front of the mirror, her stance wide and her muscles tensed. She nods once, a silent signal for you to proceed.
Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on her shoulders, feeling the firmness of her muscles beneath your palms. With a grunt of effort, you push, propelling Wednesday forward into the mirror.
As Wednesday collides with the mirror, there's a blinding flash of light and a crackling sound, like electricity surging through the glass. For a moment, you're blinded, your vision swallowed by the brightness. But as the glow fades, you blink rapidly, trying to clear your eyes.
When your vision returns, Wednesday is gone. Vanished. In her place, the mirror reflects an image of a dark, shadowy hallway stretching into the distance.
For a heart-stopping moment, you're frozen in shock, your mind struggling to process what just happened. Then, as panic starts to set in, you hear a voice echoing down the hallway, distant but unmistakably Wednesday's.
"Y/N! I'm in here!"
You lean closer to the mirror, your breath fogging the glass as you peer into the shadowy depths. "Wednesday?" you call out, your voice sounding small and uncertain. "Where are you?"
There's a pause, and then Wednesday's voice returns, sounding strained and urgent. "I'm stuck, Y/N. I need you to follow me. Quickly!"
"Hurry, Y/N!" Wednesday calls out, her voice echoing strangely in the shadowy hallway beyond the mirror. "I think I found the key, but I can't get it out."
Your heart pounds as you lean closer to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened glass. The image of the hallway wavers and shifts, as if the shadows themselves are alive and moving.
Taking a deep breath, you reach out and press your palm flat against the mirror's surface. The glass is cold and smooth beneath your fingers, but as you apply pressure, you feel it beginning to give way, like a door yielding to a firm push.
With a grunt of effort, you step forward, feeling the resistance of the mirror against your body. For a moment, it's as if you're being pressed between two planes of existence - the real world behind you, and the shadowy realm ahead. Then, with a final heave, you stumble through, tumbling into the darkness beyond.
You land on your hands and knees, the floor beneath you cold and damp. As you push yourself upright, you see Wednesday standing a few feet away.
She's standing in a shadowy corridor, her face illuminated by the faint, eerie glow emanating from the walls. Wednesday's eyes widen as she sees you emerge from the mirror, relief and urgency flashing across her features.
"Thank god you're here," she breathes, her voice trembling slightly. "I was starting to think I might be trapped in here forever."
You take a moment to orient yourself, taking in the strange, otherworldly environment surrounding you. The walls seem to pulse with an inner light, casting shifting shadows across the floor. The air is thick and heavy, carrying an unsettling scent of decay and old secrets.
"What is this place?" you whisper, your voice sounding too loud in the oppressive silence.
Wednesday shakes her head, her eyes never leaving the object clutched in her hand. "I'm not entirely sure," she admits, her tone uncharacteristically uncertain. "But I think it's part of the escape room's final challenge."
She holds out the object for you to see - a small, ornate key, its metal surface etched with strange, twisting symbols.
Wednesday holds the key up to the flickering light, examining its intricate design. "The inscription... it matches the symbols from the riddle in the book. I think this is what we've been searching for."
She glances around, her eyes scanning the shadowy corridor. "But there's no lock here. We need to find where this key belongs."
You nod, following Wednesday's gaze as she begins to move down the hallway, her steps cautious and deliberate. The walls seem to shift and sway as you pass, the air growing colder with each step.
Wednesday stops suddenly, her head tilting to the side as she listens to a distant sound. "Do you hear that?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.
You strain your ears, trying to pick up on any noise. At first, there's nothing, but then you catch it - a faint, rhythmic thumping, like a heartbeat echoing through the darkness.
"It's coming from that way," Wednesday says, pointing down a side passage branching off from the main corridor. "We need to follow it."
As you and Wednesday move deeper into the shadowy realm behind the mirror, the atmosphere grows heavier and more oppressive with each step. The thumping sound grows louder, more insistent, echoing through the dark corridors like a macabre heartbeat.
Wednesday's brow furrows in concentration, her eyes scanning the walls for any clue or hidden passage. She moves with a predatory grace, her steps silent and purposeful as she navigates the twisting labyrinth.
Suddenly, she stops, her hand shooting out to grab your arm. "Look," she hisses, her breath hot against your ear.
You follow her gaze to where the wall seems to ripple and shift, like water disturbed by an unseen hand. As you watch, a shape begins to emerge from the shadows - the outline of a door, its surface covered in the same eerie symbols that adorn the key in Wednesday's hand.
Wednesday's grip on your arm tightens, her nails digging into your skin. "This is it," she breathes, her voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "The final challenge."
Wednesday's hand trembles slightly as she raises the key, the metal glinting in the eerie light emanating from the walls. With a deep breath, she fits the key into the lock, the symbols aligning with a satisfying click.
As the lock disengages, the door creaks open, revealing the room they’d started in.
"That was... impressive," she says, turning to face you. "I mean, it was still an escape room, but at least it had some real challenges. Whoever designed this clearly knows their stuff."
You step forward, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of your mouth. "You're welcome," you say, pulling the carefully wrapped package from behind your back. "Happy birthday, Wednesday."
Wednesday's eyes widen as she takes in the small, rectangular shape of the gift. She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the smooth paper. "What is it?"
"Open it and see," you encourage, handing her the package.
Wednesday tears into the wrapping paper with gusto, revealing the pristine leather cover of the book underneath. Her eyes widen as she reads the title embossed in gold lettering: "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe.
"Is this...?" she breathes, running her fingers reverently over the ancient binding. "A first edition? Y/N… How much did you spend-“ She begins, ready to scold you.
“-I stole it.”
Wednesday's eyes snap up to meet yours, her expression a mix of shock and awe. "You... you stole this for me?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there's an undercurrent of something else beneath the surface - something that sends a shiver down your spine.
"That's right," you confirm, stepping closer to her. "I knew how much you loved Poe, and I wanted to give you something truly special for your birthday. Something no one else could ever give you."
Wednesday's gaze drops back to the book, her fingers caressing the leather cover with a reverence that borders on obsessive. "This is... incredible," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I can't believe you'd go to such lengths for me."
You reach out, gently tilting her chin up to meet your eyes once more. "Of course I would," you say softly, your voice low and intimate. "You're worth it, Wednesday. More than worth it."
Wednesday's breath hitches as your fingers brush against her skin, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or ulterior motive. But all she sees is sincerity, and maybe something deeper - a longing that mirrors her own.
"Why?" she asks, her voice barely audible. "Why would you do this for me?"
You lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing against her ear. "Because I care about you, Wednesday," you murmur, your breath warm against her skin. "More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And I wanted to prove it to you, in a way that no one else could."
Wednesday's heart pounds in her chest, her body responding to your proximity in ways she didn't know were possible. She's always prided herself on her emotional detachment, her ability to remain unaffected by the whims and fancies of others. But with you, she feels herself crumbling, her carefully constructed walls beginning to fall away.
Wednesday's breath catches in her throat as your lips brush against her ear, your whispered confession sending a jolt of electricity through her body. For a moment, she's frozen, her mind reeling as she tries to process the intensity of the moment.
But then, slowly, she raises her hand, her fingers coming to rest gently against your chest. She can feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat beneath her palm, a reminder of the life and warmth that lies beneath your skin.
"Y/N," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I don't know what to say."
You pull back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and something deeper, more profound. "You don't have to say anything," you murmur, your hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Just let me show you."
And then, before she can react, you're leaning in, your lips capturing hers in a kiss that steals the breath from her lungs. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, her body melting into yours as she surrenders to the sensation of your mouth moving against hers.
Wednesday's mind reels as the kiss deepens, her senses overwhelmed by the taste and feel of your lips against hers. She's kissed you before, of course - quick, furtive pecks stolen in the dark corners of school. But nothing like this. Nothing that makes her feel so alive, so utterly consumed by the other person.
Your hand moves from her cheek to the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday lets out a soft moan, her body arching into yours as her hands come up to grip your shoulders. She's never felt so wanted, so desired, and it's both thrilling and terrifying all at once.
For a long moment, Wednesday is lost in the sensation of your kiss, her mind going blank as she succumbs to the heat of your touch. But then, with a sudden surge of willpower, she pulls away, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath.
Wednesday's eyes snap open, her gaze locked with yours as she tries to regain her composure. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and she can feel a warmth spreading through her body that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment.
—
#wednesday addams#wednesday x reader#wednesday addams x reader#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#wednesday x fem!reader#wednesday netflix#x reader
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