#the last thing i need is to try to start another hobby but... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brunchable · 7 months ago

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

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

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

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

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

Bucky Barnes was retired.

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

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

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

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

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

Phase 1: The Handyman Hero Phase

Duration: One Month

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

You blinked. “Bucky, it’s fine.”

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

“Chaos,” you muttered.

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phase 2: The Google Scholar Phase

Duration: Two Weeks

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

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

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

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

“Research on… what?”

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

“Uh—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really—”

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

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

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

Phase 3: The Home Décor Perfectionist Phase

Duration: Two Exasperating Weeks

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

“What’s a paisley?”

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

“Bucky, no—”

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

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

“It makes the space feel bigger.”

“Bucky, this is a two-bedroom house!”

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

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

Phase 4: The Amateur Detective Phase

Duration: One Overly Suspicious Month

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he likes getting his mail?”

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

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

The Girl Scout Incident: When Bucky Barnes Met Thin Mints

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly face-palmed. Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Y/N, this could be—”

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

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

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

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

You shot Bucky a glare. “Apologize.”

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

“Bucky.”

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

The girl blinked up at him, clearly not following.

“Bucky!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky, she’s seventy.”

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

“Or she’s trying to stay in shape?”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

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

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

“I—what?”

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

“…is that a crime?”

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

“Like… groceries?”

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

“Maybe he forgot something?”

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

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

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

“For science?”

“Yes.”

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

Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

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

“He was being shady!”

“He’s a mailman!”

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

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

“Paranoid?” he offered, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what?”

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

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

Duration: Ongoing, with Fur Everywhere

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

“This is Alpine,” he announced proudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or spying on the neighbors.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky…”

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

“Not for a second.”

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

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

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

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

“Refined,” Bucky insisted.

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

“Selective.”

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

“Observant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His grin widened. “Hell yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

Ten months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

Baby at six months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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xlostinthedreamfics · 10 days ago

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Nobody New; Mingi Oneshot

Paring: Song Mingi x Female reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Playlist: Nobody New - The Marias

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut

Summary: After 2 years of living in a new city, you decide to sign up for a pottery class to step out of your comfort zone and hopefully make some friends, only to find your ex-boyfriend Mingi has signed up for the same pottery class.

Note: First post and it’s a mingi one! So excited to post more of my stories, hope you all enjoy :)

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You took a long sip of your coffee and stared down at your friend sitting across from you. “It’s a pottery class, what are you so afraid of?” Your friend Wooyoung chuckled, nudging your leg from under the table. “I get that, but you know I suck at making friends.” You huffed, frowning at your friend who couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes.

“We became friends, hello?” He swirled his coffee cup in a circle before taking a drink. “You came up to me at work, though, it’s different. You initiated it!” You slouched your shoulders but then took a deep breath. “You’re right, it’s just a pottery class. If I don’t make friends, at least I could make some cool art.”

“God, I hope so. You need a hobby, bad!” Wooyoung smirked, his smile dropping immediately to a face of pain as you pinched his arm. “Ow! Doom scrolling in the corner of your room every night is not a hobby; you need to go out and meet people.”

Wooyoung was right; he is always right, unfortunately. You couldn’t deny your friend’s statement any longer; you didn’t leave your house unless it was to come out with Wooyoung or go to work. It’s been two years since you moved from your hometown, and instead of being social, you were spending all your energy at work, in the corner of coffee shops on your laptop, or beginning constant apartment improvement projects that just became stale. But you need to be the main character in your story right now. Although you weren’t the most textbook creative person, you still wanted to engulf yourself in the arts: painting, pottery, poetry, and music. You decided to take your chance and go with pottery, maybe it could inspire you toward other hobbies.

The pottery shop by your house was starting classes for beginners, and Wooyoung pushed you to sign up and try it out. He claimed he wasn’t tired of being your only friend, but since Wooyoung moved to a new apartment, he needed a one-of-a-kind, custom set of mugs, plates, or bowls. You chuckled at the thought of showing up at Wooyoung’s place with the most botched, mismatched set of dishware. You could already see his face of annoyance.

Ding. The shop looked almost full, with about 4 rows of 5 stations lined up. There was some room in the last row, where you decided to take your seat. “Welcome in!” The instructor smiled at you, handing you a beige apron to protect your clothes from the clay splatter. “You may need this too; you don’t want your hair to get caught.” She took a few hair ties out of her pocket, handing one over to you before moving on to the rest of the people coming in.

You tied the apron around your waist and then your hair into a ponytail. The last thing you needed was some horror story about your hair getting caught in the pottery wheel on your first day of class. You looked around as more people took up the seats, and another girl who seemed around your age took the seat next to you. “Hi,” the girl smiled at you, tying the apron around her waist and securing her hair.

You smiled but didn’t say anything, maybe as the class went on, you would feel more bold and make conversation. You reached for your phone in your jean pocket, texting Wooyoung that you, in fact, made it to the pottery class as you promised. All he responded with was, “Can't wait to see what you make me!” You chuckled before sliding your phone back into your pocket.

“Welcome, everyone! I think we’re going to get started now! Just want to make sure everyone has an apron?” The instructor looked at each person, nodding, before continuing. “Perfect! Welcome to Clay & Co. This is the beginner class and will be a total of 6 sessions. I want us to go around and introduce ourselves one by one, your name, what brought you in, and what you are hoping to create! Let’s start up front.” You felt your stomach drop; you hated introductions, icebreakers, and anything that caused everyone’s attention to you. Most of the answers so far were similar to yours, “trying something new, wanting to learn a new hobby”, at least you can say the same and no one would bat a lash.

“Hello, I’m Mingi-”

Your heart felt still, as you gazed towards the second row at the man introducing himself. The pounding of your heart sounded louder than his voice, the beating muffling your hearing. There was no chance that you were in the same pottery class as your ex-boyfriend. Your ex-boyfriend from two years ago, who you thought you left behind in your hometown, who you took these last two years to try and get over. You automatically hid your face, refusing to make eye contact. Why the fuck is here? How could this be happening to me right now?

“I just moved to the city and have always wanted to try a more hands-on hobby and maybe make some new friends. I’m hoping to make something useful.” He joked. The rest of the group chuckled at his last statement, catching that smile of his in the corner of your eye, causing your stomach to do a flip. The fact that you had to get up in a few turns to introduce yourself made your mouth dry. Your face felt flushed, a drop of sweat visible on your brow. You hadn’t seen him since you broke up and truly thought you’d never see him again. It’s also not as unlikely to see him since it wasn’t a far driving distance from where you grew up.

You did everything you could to avoid him after the breakup: blocked him on every social media platform, blocked his phone number, and put all the stuff he gave you in a box that was still in your apartment. As soon as you got a clear view of his face, it felt like every single moment you had with him was running through your brain like a flip book. He looked so good, his shoulders wide, his black hair framing his face, his deep, deep voice that seemed to make everyone pay attention. You were staring at him for too long; you didn’t realize they were already beginning introductions in your row.

The girl next to you got up to introduce herself, “Hello, I’m Evie-” Fuck, that meant that you were next, you continued to stare down at your now sweaty palms. When Evie sat back down, the room was quiet again, awaiting your turn. You had to get up; you couldn’t be stuck in this chair forever. All you had to do was not look at him. Because that was already working so well. You pulled yourself up to your feet, your knees seeming to wobble a bit as you made direct eye contact with the instructor.

“Hi, my name is Y/N. I wanted to try a new hobby and learn something new. I’m hoping I can make something for my friend as an apartment-warming gift.” You felt your cheeks so hot as you sat back down, noticing Mingi’s gaze linger on you before he turned around. “Awesome! So glad to have everyone, let’s get started then.”

The rest of the class was a little easier than those introductions. You were too focused on getting comfortable with your pottery wheel and not being too heavy on the pedal. You even had a conversation with Evie about how much harder this seemed to be, but the clay on your hands was also somewhat soothing. The stinging realization that Mingi was a few feet away from you caused the lump in your throat to form again. It was the longest 2 hours of your life. All you could think of was how ready you were to get the fuck out of there and tell Wooyoung.

“Okay, class, we’re going to wrap up for today. Make sure to come in on Thursday for our second session, at 6 pm!” The instructor yelled out, making sure everyone was cleaning up their station well before heading out. You quickly cleaned up, storing away the tools and apron in the designated area. You washed your hands at the sink hastily, finally letting your hair down, feeling more secure as it covered your flushed face. You went back to your station to grab your bag, said bye to Evie, and headed out the door.

Ding. The air hit you immediately; it wasn’t even cold out, but the breeze felt nice against your warm cheeks. You only lived a few blocks down, and in just a few steps, you would be in your safe space, where you could process what just happened. Ding.

“Y/N!” The familiar voice called out, your face growing hot again, and the palms of your hands beginning to sweat almost immediately. There wasn’t any bad blood between you and Mingi; you were friends for a long time before you got together, and the break-up was mutual since you were both in two different places in your lives. But it didn’t hurt any less to see him now. Would it be wrong to just ignore Mingi and pretend you never heard him to avoid this confrontation? You could just stop going to that pottery class. You felt his footsteps picking up speed as he called out to you again.

“Wait up.” You stopped in your tracks, turning around quickly to see Mingi making his way towards you, towering over you now; you forgot how tall he was. He hesitated to continue speaking, almost as if he was trying to figure out what to say. “Hey.” That was all he mustered out of his mouth as he reached for you, but pulled back as soon as he realized.

“Hi.” You wanted to laugh, the uncomfortable air right now felt dense, and running away didn’t seem like a bad option. “It's, I, hey.” Mingi looked flustered, smiling awkwardly at you. “What are you doing here?” You blurted out, taken aback by your own boldness.

“Right.” He laughed awkwardly, “Do you think we can talk, maybe get something to eat? Pottery, strangely enough, made me hungry.” You gazed at him, amazed at how the distance in time somehow felt non-existent, as if you could retroactively feel how you did two years ago, but the heavy feeling in your chest lingered. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mingi.”

“Please.” His soft hand landed on yours, leaving your skin with a burning sensation as if he ignited all the memories in an instant. Your reaction was to pull away quickly, regretting that decision as a frown appeared on his face. You sighed at the uneasiness of seeing him visibly upset; maybe just a catch-up would be okay. “Okay.” Was all you could answer as a small smile gleamed on his face now. He pulled out his phone, pulling up a spot on his maps app, “There’s a sushi spot close by that I’ve been wanting to check out.”

“Sushi Scene?” you asked him. Mingi looked up at you, “You’ve been there?”

“It’s my favorite spot, let’s go.” You answered, walking past him toward the direction of the pottery shop. The thoughts raced through your mind as he caught up next to you, still following the directions on his map. This isn’t what you had imagined to happen on this Tuesday afternoon. You assumed you would enjoy your pottery class, get home, and relax before your work day tomorrow, where you would tell Wooyoung all about it. But now you were walking to go have dinner with your ex-boyfriend, whom you never got closure from, completely healed from, and who you still found undeniably attractive.

Before small talk could even begin during the walk to the restaurant, you were already coming up on it. You headed inside first, not even allowing time for Mingi to get the door for you, which is something he always made sure to do. You could hear a noise of annoyance behind you, letting a small chuckle escape your lips. “Table for 2.” You gestured at the host, she nodded and grabbed the menus, directing you to follow her to a booth towards the back; each of you taking a side of the booth. You took a deep breath, focusing your attention on the menu instead of Mingi, who was gazing at you. You couldn’t help but look up and catch his eyes, nervously glancing back down at the menu. “Should we-”

“Get 2 different rolls each and share?” Mingi answered instantly, smiling nervously at you, knowing it’s what you would always do, order something different and share. “Sure.” You surrendered, placing the menu down and clasping your hands together in front of you. You wished you were sitting next to Mingi so you wouldn’t have to face him. It felt surreal to have him in front of you right now, the quick memories of him flashing through your brain; his kisses, his laugh, his touch…

“Ready to order?” The waitress startled you, you nodded, each of you ordering your rolls and handing her the menus. “I know this must be weird, seeing each other,” Mingi cleared his throat, continuing, “I moved here recently because of work. I didn’t think I’d run into you since this city is so big. It just ended up being fate, I guess.” The thing about Mingi is that he’s a logical person, but funny enough, he is a big believer in fate and things happening the way they’re meant to. “I tried calling, you know?” The lump in your throat appeared again, the discomfort of this conversation becoming hard to swallow.

“But it just went to voicemail every time.” He bit down on his bottom lip nervously, eyeing me up, waiting for me to respond, but continued anyway. “I know that was a few years ago now, so we don’t have to talk about it. Just wanted to see how you have been. What brought you to sign up for that pottery class? You hate art.” He chuckled, fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist.

“I don’t hate art! I’m just not good at it,” You smirked, rolling your eyes at him. “My friend Wooyoung told me I should go make friends. I’ve been living here for two years and have somehow managed only to make one friend, him.” You laughed at yourself, locking your eyes with Mingi’s, the familiarity of it all seeping through with just a stare.

“I never got your call because I had blocked you.” You nervously took a sip of your water, not making eye contact with Mingi. You both never had a conversation after the breakup, and there wasn't much to talk about. You were moving away, and Mingi was always busy at his new job, two very different wavelengths, and that’s okay. “That’s understandable, I guess.” Mingi laughed, leaning in closer, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” His eyes seemed to pierce through you, watching you move uncomfortably in your seat. He knew how that look made you feel, how it could eat at you without saying anything, so many times that he could shut your thinking up with this look. His face fell back into a coy smile, rubbing the back of your hand softly before leaning back against the booth. You felt your heart ablaze, the feelings returning as if they never left. You couldn’t help but imagine jumping over this table and kissing him in front of everyone in this sushi restaurant. “Food is here!” The waitress walked up to their table, causing you to snap back into reality. “Thank you.” You smiled at her and then at Mingi, his eyes fixed on you as he handed a pair of chopsticks your way.

The rest of the time was spent chowing down on the delicious rolls, rating them one by one, pretending to be some Michelin star critic, knowing neither of you was qualified to even write a Yelp review. The awkwardness of seeing your ex was soon filled with memories of your once-close relationship. The conversation led to you both talking about your current daily activities, your jobs, your current obsessions, guilty pleasures, and your favorite coffee and food spots so Mingi could get some ideas. It all felt normal, as if you never left your hometown, as if you’d never left Mingi. After dinner, Mingi insisted on driving you home, even though it was about a fifteen-minute walk for you. He picked up the check and led you both out of the restaurant towards his car, which was parked right in front of the pottery shop.

“Still got your Honda, I see?” You smiled as you walked up to his black Honda Accord. “Of course, it’s my baby.” Mingi opened the door for you, heading over to his side hastily. “I’m driving her until it breaks apart.” Mingi snickered, handing you his phone to put in your address. “While you’re at it, play that song that you were telling me about,” Mingi smirked at you, pulling off towards your place. You smiled, going through his music streaming app to find your favorite song. “Okay, this group is my current obsession. When you listen to this, think of floating peacefully in the water, the sun setting so the sky is the perfect color of purple and pink, and it’s summertime.”

“Am I in the middle of the ocean, floating? How long do I have before the sun sets completely and it's dark? Do I at least have a life jacket?” You moaned annoyingly, “Mingi, please. Don’t think about it too much.” You pushed his leg playfully, turning the volume up a bit. You watched as his face went through five different emotions, and you couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it. “Okay, what else you got?” He smirked, knowing that it would annoy the shit out of you. “You got something better?” You glared, slumping into the seat.

“I’m messing with you.” He placed his hand on your thigh, quickly glancing over at you, “I like it.” He left his hand on your thigh, and you were hoping he would. You stared down at his hand, noticing the nice rings wrapped around his fingers in detail. You traced your finger over each one, an excuse for your hand to be closer to his. “Remember when you clowned me for wearing too many rings?” Mingi scoffed, watching you continue to trace through each ring. “I didn’t clown you, it just hurt when we would hold hands.” You chuckled, boldly interlacing your fingers with his, “It's not too bad now.” You looked over at him, his face painted with a bit of surprise.

Before you knew it, he was pulling up to your apartment, the thought of being away from him causing your heart to ache already. He noticed your hesitancy, squeezing your hand softly, causing you to lock eyes with him again. He glanced down at your lips and then back at you, moving his body closer. “Do you want to come upstairs?” You blurted out, his face just a few inches from yours. He bit down on his lip, your favorite habit of his, and nodded as he turned off the car. You walked him up the stairs to your place, thanking yourself for deciding to not get a roommate. You weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen, what you wanted to happen, but all you knew was that you wanted him, you missed him, you needed him more than you had before.

“This is my place.” You smiled at him as you ushered behind Mingi, closing the door. “It’s nice, I like it. You have a great view.” He walked towards the window in the living room, peeking out at the street below. “Do you want anything to drink?” Mingi turned around, walking to you in the kitchen, shaking his head. “I’m okay right now. I could use something else, though.“ He scooted closer to you, your back crashing against the counter. You stared up at Mingi, who had caged you into his embrace, an arm on either side of you. “Mingi.” You nervously watched as he backed off, “I’m sorry, did I read everything wrong? That is my bad.” He pursed his lips.

“I was just going to say,” His eyes fixated on you again, “I never stopped thinking about you either.” You smirked, your hand reaching out for him. He smiled, grabbing onto your waist as he pushed you against the counter again. “You couldn’t forget about me?” He looked at you with a smug look, snuggling his nose against your neck as he inhaled you. He pressed a small kiss to the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw toward your lips. He stopped at the corner of your mouth, peering down at you as you spoke. “How could I forget you?”

Mingi took your arms, wrapping them around his neck as he hoisted you up onto the counter. Your legs quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He cupped your face with his large hand as he placed his finger under your chin. “I’ve thought about this moment so much. If I were ever able to kiss you again.” His lips crashed against yours, your core aching for him almost immediately. His tongue slid along your bottom lip as it entered your mouth, your tongues gliding against each other’s. His hand wrapped around the sides of your neck as he squeezed gently, causing a moan to escape your lips.

His body rubbed against yours, feeling yourself become slicker for him. You bit down on his lip, tugging on it slightly as he groaned under his breath. “Fuck.” He whined, his hands drifting under your shirt, the feeling of his cold rings giving you goosebumps. You threw your arms up, allowing him to remove your shirt with ease. His lips descended onto your chest, kissing down until he met your breasts. You felt his hands on your back, instantly unclasping your bra. Although it has been a few years since you both had sex, everything felt so natural, so normal. He knew the ways to tease you just right, to make you feel good, to drive you insane.

He threw the bra to the side, his head hovering over your breasts, taking a bulb into his mouth. You gasped at his touch, his tongue swirling around your nipple. You could feel your legs squeezing onto him even tighter, “Mingi.” You held the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair as he sucked, nibbled, and circled your sensitive bulbs. You slid your hands down his back, tugging at his shirt for him to take it off. He obliged, slipping it off and tossing it to the side, returning to you quickly. His mouth was on yours again as he unbuttoned your pants, gliding them off, your skin feeling the coldness of the marble counter from under you.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” The return of the nickname never felt so good. At this moment, you were his and he was yours. He skated his hands up and down your thighs, glancing at the wetness seeping through your underwear. “Want me to tell you what I want?” Mingi asked, you eased your breathing, nodding up at him. He tilted your chin up, kissing you before trailing his fingers down your neck, down your chest, and abdomen to your aching center. His index and middle finger pressed against the front of your panties, his mouth dropping open as he felt the soaked cloth against his skin. You moaned softly, feeling him pull your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger inside of you with ease.

“Fuck.” You moaned a bit louder this time, your hand gripping his other arm as you held your body still. He smirked as he slipped the second finger in, curling his fingers upward slowly. The sensation drove you insane. His lips found your neck as he continued, “Mingi, please.” He bit down on your neck slightly, causing you to hiss with pain. “Please, what?” He whispered faintly, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“You want more?” His low tone vibrated against your ear as he moved his fingers deeper into you, watching you squirm. He had a good pace, but you wanted more, you wanted him, you needed to be completely stuffed by Mingi. “I need you.” You muttered out through your moans, hearing the noises from your wet slick as he removed his fingers. He unwrapped your legs from around him and took a step back, slowly unbuttoning his pants and removing them. His bulge sprang up from out of his briefs. Your mouth fell open, your pussy pulsating at the remembrance of how amazing he fit into you. You reached for him, wanting to bring him close to you. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your eagerness as he moved closer, lining himself up to you but not pushing in. He teased you instead, sliding his hard cock in between your slit, the tip of him brushing along your clit.

Your breathing grew heavy, your moans getting louder at every meeting of his tip against your clit. His cock slipped between your folds, his hands gripping your thighs as he focused on you. “I need to feel you.” You pleaded, gripping onto his hand. He interlaced your fingers with his as he slid his tip into your entrance, plunging in. You could scream if the walls of your apartment weren’t so thin. He fit so perfectly, stretched you out in the best way. Mingi wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you down as he bobbed himself in and out of you. His pace grew faster, his moans matching yours. “Fuck, I missed you so much.” He leaned down to your breasts, gliding his tongue around your nipple as he continued to pump into you.

You felt your legs wrapping tighter around him, causing him to sink deeper into you. He moved slower to tease you before moving his hips faster against you. “I’m so close, Mingi.” You threw your head back, your arms behind you holding you up. Mingi kept his pace steady, his fingers finding your clit, creating small circles with his thumb. You moaned loudly, feeling like you were about to come apart at the seams. “I’m close too, baby.” Mingi groaned against you. His eyes were focused on you, watching as your chest heaved, how your legs shook, and your walls clenched onto him as you came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moaned out, glancing at a panting Mingi who was almost to the edge. “Fill me up, baby.” You looked at him, his gaze intensifying as he slammed harder into you, his hot release filling you up instantly. You fell back slightly on the counter, Mingi lying on your stomach as he slowed down his breathing, pulling out of you completely. He got up, helping you back up against him, kissing you softly.

“I missed you.” You whispered against his lips, a huge smile spreading on his face. “Does this mean you will sit next to me at our next pottery class?” He laughed as you smacked his arm, “Fine.”

492 notes · View notes

katsu28 · 11 months ago

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home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.”

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was.

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips.

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.”

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most.

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch.

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room.

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing.

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing.

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench.

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise.

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you.

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal.

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms.

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own.

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor.

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.”

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.”

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.”

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?”

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled.

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.”

Oh, if only he knew.

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.”

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.”

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on.

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out.

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word.

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?”

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him.

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.”

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits.

“What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression.

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking.

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?”

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.”

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms.

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Yeah, I am pretty great.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.”

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.”

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.”

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional.

“Is that a promise?”

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.”

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could.

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night.

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined.

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch.

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that.

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something.

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room.

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine.

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time.

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano.

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in.

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world.

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead.

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now.

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring.

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly.

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?”

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.”

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.”

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?”

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep.

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh.

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell.

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course.

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more.

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask.

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable.

“Any requests from the audience?”

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow.

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker.

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa.

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine.

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own.

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him.

God, why were you even thinking of those things?

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend.

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop.

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him.

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him.

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place.

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice.

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up.

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something.

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow.

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.”

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.”

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.”

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.”

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?”

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.”

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him.

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles.

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.”

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—”

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.”

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all.

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.”

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign.

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.”

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?”

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?”

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.”

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you.

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly.

“Then why did you?”

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.”

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone.

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.”

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued.

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had.

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.”

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.”

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head.

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?”

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you.

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.”

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them.

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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mayasaurusss · 5 months ago

Text

"You like that?"

Inspired by Lottie getting chocked in the new teaser...don't judge me.

Contains: transfem Lottie, gn reader

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes inside the cabin's attic, muffled sounds and moans coming from both of you as you move against your lover. Lottie, underneath you, skin darkening around the cheeks and sweat trailing down her temple moans, sighs and whimpers as you ride her to her well deserved little death.

Ever since the crash, hell, maybe even before it, Lottie has been very open and lovely with you. At first you though that she was just begin nice to you, since you were new on the team, but after a while, you two became friends. As much as you could be friends with her anyways. You found out she was a very busy woman, and even if she did sometimes asked you to join her and the rest of the team -you were too shy at the time to fully loose up- you never found the time to develop your friendship more than the three hours a day during practice.

But something changed after the crash. Whether it was her need to be close to someone or a sincere interest over you, you and Lottie became close. Closer than ever, actually, sometimes attracting the envious eyes of your other teammates.

Both of you bonded over your hobbies, music and movies, trivia -a thing that you found Lottie liked to talk about,a lot- and books. And through the wilderness you had started to rely on each other so much, that with time, your affections turned into lingering touches and shy looks. You two became lovers into the chaos that was the aftermath of the crash, two pillars for one another. It was a cold November evening when you two kissed for the first time. The wind was strong against the cabin's outer walls, snow pressing against the window and ice forming at it's base. You had spent that afternoon in Lottie's embrace, fighting the cold biting at your skin. Everyone was asleep by the fire, cuddled up together, but neither you not Lottie slept. She had her body pressed against yours, gently lulling you to sleep by warming you. When your eyes begun to close, she snuggled her nose near yours, without even thinking about it, and before long, you threw your arms at her neck and kissed her tenderly.

When the air between you two finally grew thick with need, you couldn't keep you hands to yourself anymore, and neither could she.

You had noticed for a while how she looked at you with a different light in her eyes. How she lingered on your curves for a bit too long, how the flesh of her cheeks darkned when you were near her, how she became all fidgety and shy when you talked to her. It has always been clear -at least to everyone else beside you two- that there was something between you and Lottie.

"Hey..." she came to you one afternoon, when the heat of sunrays melted the snow on the window. "Lottie? What is it?" you were shoveling the snow off of the door at the best of your abilities, teeth pressed tightly. Lottie on the other hand didn't seem too affected by the cold, but that maybe was because she had been inside up until this point. "I wanted to tell you... that I really enjoy your company" she seemed fidgety and uncharacteristically shy, a side of her character that only surfaced while she was with you. "Oh...I really like your company too, Lot". You got back to shoveling away, but she remained at your side. "I meaan... I really like your company. I like you. And we kissed. So..." the way those words were pronounced and the faint red on her cheeks made you realize what the subtex really was.

She rubbed her thighs over and over again, trying to make her bulge less noticeable but failing miserably to do so.

"So...could we, you know..." her voice dropped in the last syllable, vocal chords barely holding on the sound in her throat. She looked so cute, so beautiful with the reflection of the snow in her eyes. And how could you say no to her?

So here you are: in the attic, with your hands on Lottie's throat while bouncing on her dick. The cold is seeping in from the outside and affecting your lovemaking, but the heat your bodies produce is enough to warm both of you. Lottie sits naked under you, a blanket between her and the floor. She had the thoughtfulness of making a little "nest" for you two to be comfortable. The others have her a weird look when she asked for more blankets and pillows, but ignore what they would be needed for. The sound of humping above their heads is enough to make them guess, you think.

"Fuck...oh baby, fuck..." Lottie's eyes roll back, her hands gripping at your hips and shaking. She feels weak underneath you, strenght leaving her everytime she sinks back inside. "Please...please, slow down a moment, or I am going to..." her pleas fall on deaf ears when your hips fall back repeatedly on her own's, even doubling your efforts and moving faster and faster, making her exhale every breath from her lungs. She can't help but be estatich when you take her faster, almost delirious; maybe she did hope you were not going to listen to her.

She can already feel herself bursting, skin tingling and brain empty. Her please and whimpers get erratic, exhaling so loudly you're sure someone knows what you two are up to.

"Lottie! Shut up!" you say, kneeling over her body so that you are face to face with her. Without even thinking about it, you place your hands at either side of her neck, lightly pressing on her throat. "Just-! Be quiet! The others might-" you quickly shut up when you see the look on Lottie's face: her blush has spreaded on her shoulders, her eyes are humid and she looks at you with such adoration and eagerness that your heart hurts.

Something inside of you suggests what that look means, and just to try, or maybe to tease and torture her, you clench down on her cock while tightening your grip on her neck. You watch as a long and loud whine escapes her throat, eyes rolling back and hips chasing you upwards, impaling you on her length and making you fall over her, loosening your grip over her.

"So...you like that..." Lottie just whines and shudders, protesting the lack of movement on your part. "Yeah? Don't worry baby..." you roll your hips downward, making Lottie moan loudly, a bead of precum falling from your entrance on her crotch, "I am going to give you the time of your life".

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #smut oneshot

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forever-rogue · 20 days ago

Note

Hi Bee!! Idk if you’ve heard Hozier’s new song Too Sweet but it’s giving our grumpy man Joel trying to keep his distance from r cause he thinks she’s too sweet for him and he’d hurt her, idk if you’re taking requests but if you could write something along those lines ugh that would be so great 😭💗

AN | Hi, hello, this has been sitting in my inbox for literal ages, and it’s been drafted for a while, and here we are. It’s time to get back on my Joel bs (not that it ever left). Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He liked to watch you.

That revelation alone made him feel like a creep. He quickly chugged the rest of his strong, black coffee in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner as he looked around to make sure nobody had caught onto him. He didn’t want the local gossip mill to start spreading rumors; it wasn’t like there was a ton else to do.

When nobody appeared to be staring at him or offering him judgmental looks, he relaxed slightly and sunk further down in his spot in the small booth. It was moments like these that made him thankful for the small semblance of his life; it allowed him to get away with just being himself.

A plate of pancakes smothered in syrup was in front of him, half eaten and half forgotten as he drank his way through several cups of coffee. If Ellie was here, she’d chide him for both the sugary breakfast and caffeine overload. He always encouraged her to have a well balanced meal and she’d never let him live it down. Especially in what was his old age as she liked to remind him

When you turned around, something else having caught your attention, he quickly shifted his gaze back to his plate. An ancient crossword book was next to him, a hobby he’d picked up over the last couple of years and he gave it his full attention. Or maybe he was willing it to come alive and swallow him whole. That sounded like a better option than having you catching him staring at you. Again. As usual.

He didn’t dare to look up, making up his mind to keep his gaze down for the time being. Maybe for the rest of eternity. He wasn’t sure.

“Hey there,” he froze at the sound of your voice, heart thrumming in his chest and his blood practically singing. When Joel didn’t respond at first, a small frown tugged down the corners of your mouth, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he tore his gaze from the aging wood of the sticky table to find you watching him with bright, curious eyes and a smile he loved more than he cared to admit, “‘m alright.”

You relaxed slightly as you smiled at him, his big, brown eyes looking at you nervously, “cool. Listen, there’s a few of us that are going apple picking later, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me - us?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, mind racing as he tried to figure out what the best response was. From the expectant look on your mind, he wanted to say yes, wanted to make sure you had the best time apple picking ever, but instead he said, “sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a few things that need to be taken care of ‘round here.”

“Oh,” your smile faltered slightly before you recovered, taking a small step back. Joel wished he could take it back but knew that he had to stick to his guns, “that’s fine. I just…thought I’d ask. Well, I’ll see you around, Joel. Take care.”

With a soft smile and even more shy wave, you walked away and back to the table with your friends, refusing to spare him another glance. Joel groaned internally, wishing he’d something different or that you had had a different reaction. If you hated him, things would have been much easier.

But life rarely worked out that way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hummed to yourself as you brushed out the horse's mane. It wasn't the worst job in the world and at the very least you had some company. Even if it wasn't the most talkative company imaginable. But then again, half the people around you weren’t very talkative anyway.

“You have been looking very shiny, Kiri,” you told her, and she made a small sound as you softly played with a few locks of her shiny mane. When you pulled out a carrot and fed it to her as you petted her, she nuzzled closer to you, causing you to laugh sweetly, “and I see your love can still be bought so easily.”

Joel watched from the entrance to the stables, almost frozen as the scene unfolded. It felt wrong in a way, like he’d stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have, intruding on a private moment. Marin eventually sensed his presence as directed her inky gaze towards him, huffing in acknowledgment. You followed her gaze and locked eyes with Joel, your heart skipping a few beats as you stood there. Eventually you caught yourself and cleared your throat awkwardly, “h-hey Joel. Everything alright?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat as he nodded, slowly taking a few steps in your direction. He truly wasn’t a talkative man, especially not in the morning hours as you’d found over the time since you’d met him. After a few moments of nothing but the sound of blood rushing in your ears and Kiri’s soft breaths, he was at your side, gently reaching over and petting Kiri. She immediately took to him, neighing softly as she leaned into him for more petting.

“Such a traitor,” your voice was much too sweet to hold any venom as you watched the two of them. Joel had a tender way about him, and you wondered how many other people saw that side of him. He was gruff, sure, but he was a lot more than what simply met the eye.

“She and I go way back,” he said eventually, his voice warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine, “took a while to get her to trust me though. But she’s a good old girl.”

“She wasn’t a big fan of me either,” you whispered as you put your hand on her neck right next to Joel’s. You couldn’t help but stare at your hands, mesmerized by how much larger his hand was compared to yours, “I think we’re working up to being friends.”

“She’s a good judge of character,” you could have sworn he moved his hand closer to yours as you looked anywhere but him. He had a way of making you feel a million different ways all at once. The two of you stood there in contemplative silence for a few moments before you came to your senses and took a step back, immediately sticking your hands into pockets of your jacket.

“I-I, ugh,” you shrugged your shoulders lightly, allowing yourself a quick look at his honey brown eyes. His expression was questioning, searching yours to try and find out how you were really feeling, “I should get going. I promised Maritza I’d help chop some firewood for the big bonfire tomorrow.”

The last time you had left the ball in his court, waiting to see how he would respond to your invitation. This time it was your turn. He was giving you the option of either staying there with him or walking away. You felt so torn; part of you wanted to stay there and be with him, in whatever capacity that entailed. The other part of you wanted to walk far away and leave him alone. He was trouble they said, and although he hadn’t done anything to support that theory, he hadn’t tried to deny it either.

Whatever he was, Joel Miller was something. And in that moment you felt overwhelmed by everything all at once and decided to just walk away.

“See you around?” he offered meekly as you took a few steps back, offering him what was a weak nod at best.

You turned and headed out of the stable without another word, leaving Joel and Kiri together. The two of them looked at each other, and Joel gave her a few more pets, “I don’t know either. But I think I might have ruined everything, if there ever even was anything.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple of weeks had passed since you’d had any sort of encounter with Joel. It was definitely purposeful, even if you weren't willing to admit that much to yourself. Just as Joel had finally allowed himself to get closer to you, you'd started to pull away. It felt like such a cat and mouse game, despite the fact that you did have feelings for him. You just couldn't bring yourself to be around him knowing he didn't feel the same way about you.

He couldn't help that he didn't like you in that sense, just as you couldn't help the fact that you liked him.

The natural solution for you was just to avoid him entirely. Entirely stupid, but wholly effective.

Until he managed to track you down anyway. Not that it was hard in Jackson; the town was big, all things considered, but not that big.

“Hey stranger,” you startled, almost dropping the plate in your hand as you looked up to find Joel watching you intently. You let out a small huff as you set the plate onto the counter of the small diner you helped to run.

“Hi,” you whispered softly, drying off your hands and trying to seem casual as you leaned against the counter, “can I help you with anything?”

“There is one thing,” he leaned on the counter, his warm smell making its way over to you. He always smelled so damn good, “you wanna tell me if I did something to cause you to avoid me entirely?”

“I haven't…” the lie died on your lips as he arched an eyebrow at you. You shrugged your shoulders and picked at a spot in the aged wood, “I've just been busy. It's nothing more than that.”

“Oh honey,” he leaned in, his gaze trained intently on yours, “I may be old and I may be dumb, but I do know when someone's lying.”

“I'm not-”

“It's written all over your face,” he insisted and your cheeks warmed up, “and you've got absolutely no poker face. With your facial expressions, you might as well be screaming.”

“I…” you inhaled deeply before letting out a soft sigh. You found it incredibly hard to look at him; he could read you way too well, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it seem…like I was mad at you or anything.”

“You're not?”

“I'm not,” you confirmed softly.

“Then why are you avoiding me like I'm about to turn you into one of the infected?” He wasn't going to let this go. You knew him well enough to know that much and you had still fallen for it. You swallowed thickly and cast your gaze around, annoyed and thankful for the fact that there were only a couple of stragglers inside, “if you want me to go, I can go. You just have to tell me.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weird or to make you uncomfortable,” you whispered as you put your hand on his forearm to stop him from leaving, “because I…ugh, I-I like you. And I just didn't want to make it awkward. Which I just proceeded to do, but at least you know the truth.”

He pulled his arm out from under your touch and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Your heart sank into your stomach as you waited for him to say something. You leaned back and made yourself as small as possible, “was that so hard to admit?”

“Joel, I-”

“And whatever made you think I didn't like you?” Your gaze snapped to him as your heart seemed to stop working, “I ain't ever said that, have I?”

“No, I mean it like…ugh. I mean, I asked you to go apple picking, and you said no so quickly so I just figured I’d overstepped.”

“I know how you meant it,” he insisted and you were positive that your heart was going to burst through your ribcage, “and you're still wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen,” he moved closer so he was almost directly in front of you again, “I'm not…a great man. I've seen and done things that I wouldn't ever want you to even think about. And you are…everything I'm not. And I'm not a good match for you, but I sure as hell can't stay away from you. You keep drawing me in, and I'm tired of trying to stay away from my feelings.”

“Oh,” you blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he'd said. Either he'd said something entirely different or you'd just gotten a whole confession, “oh?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly as you turned your head to the side and looked at him so sweetly, “I'm sorry if that's not something you wanted to hear, but I'm putting all my cards onto the table.”

“But…why?” You let out an exasperated breath, “why me? Why now?”

“I don't think I need to justify the why you with an answer,” he insisted, “why now? Because ever since you've been avoiding me like the plague and I haven't been able to see you, I realized just how much I needed that. How much I needed to see you. I want to be around you. I need to be around you. And fuck it if that makes me a bad man.”

This time when you looked at him, you couldn't hide the smile that was threatening to break your face in half. Your entire face felt like it was on fire as you opened and closed your mouth a few times before you finally managed a small, “you're right - fuck it.”

The two of you stood there for a while, grinning at one another, before you realized that you were still in the middle of the diner. By this point, quite a few of the straggling patrons had turned their attention to you. Your cheeks were burning as you took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Umm…maybe we should save the rest of this for later,” your voice was small again and you felt shy, despite the fact that the man had all but confessed his love for you, “I can meet you when I’m off?”

“How much longer until you’re off?”

“A couple of hours,” you shrugged, “maybe less if it continues to be this slow.”

“I can wait,” the corner of his mouth tugged up as he went to take a seat at the counter, pretending to contemplate what he was going to order, “what do you recommend?”

“Huh?” you looked at him dumbfounded; but you knew that Joel didn’t half-ass do things, he threw his whole ass into it as Ellie liked to say.

“What do you recommend I order off the menu?”

“Oh,” you shook your head before playfully rolling your eyes at him, “I see where this is going.”

“Do you?” he pretended to ask innocently, “‘cause I was thinking I’m pretty hungry and it’s fairly cold outside so I might as well get inside and have a meal for a few hours.”

“Okay,” you bit your lip before turning around to make him his coffee just how he liked it. Just like he had always been paying attention to you, you were always paying attention to him, “here’s your coffee. And I can see what the chef can put together for such a hungry man.”

“Thank you kindly,” he took the cups, letting his fingers linger on yours for a few moments, “such amazing service around here.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Unfortunately, a lot of the townspeople seemed to have the same idea that it was the perfect time to get inside and warm up with warm food and drinks. The crowd didn’t let up and your desire to leave early with Joel quickly disappeared. But that didn’t deter him; he sat there, sneaking in a few words here and there but mostly he watched you.

Watched how you never rude to anyone despite being frazzled; how you never lost the smile on your face; how you listened to everyone with rapt attention. You were good and kind, and that made him want to hesitate and take back everything he had said earlier. However, now that he had said it all and gotten it out there, he wouldn’t take it back. He couldn’t.

When your shift was finally over and you were able to get a reprieve, Joel waited outside for you. A small part of you was surprised that he had waited but another part of you hadn’t expected anything else.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a small smile, which he eagerly returned, “thanks for waiting.”

“Didn’t have much else going on,” he shrugged it off like it had been no big deal. He was always busy with something. People relied on him an enormous amount, even if they didn’t realize it.

“So…” he had started walking and you had fallen in line with him.

Before you could say anything else he stopped and turned towards you, his dark eyes searched yours. Joel gently took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Without even thinking about it, you leaned into his touch, your lips partly slightly.

After a couple moments of pause, in which he was clearly giving you the option of pulling away or stopping him, he leaned and brushed his lips over yours. Softly at first, and then slowly with more urgency and need. All you could do was lean into him and his touch. If this was what kissing Joel was like, you never wanted it to end.

But eventually he pulled away, both of you in need of a breath of air. You just looked at him with wide, happy eyes.

“So…” he picked up where you had left off before continuing to walk. You were so caught off guard that you didn’t follow at first, “you coming?”

“Yes,” you promised breathlessly as you jogged to catch up to him, “so…”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #jackson joel <3

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p0orbaby · 7 months ago

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Parental Guidance

summary: you’re on the brink of a baby induced nervous breakdown and you need your wife to pull her finger out a little

warnings: just some postnatal tension, but it all works out

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.2k

You’re pretty sure you haven’t slept in three days. Or is it four? The baby’s a demon. This tiny, adorable, 8-pound entity that seems to thrive on your misery. His cries have melded into a never-ending soundtrack of despair, punctuated by your own hollow attempts at soothing him with a song that you made up on the spot about 48 hours ago and now can’t stop singing. It’s called “Please, for the Love of All That is Good and Holy, Sleep.”

You used to be a person. You had interests, hobbies. You read books that didn’t have the words “Goodnight” and “Moon” in the title. You once watched entire movies from start to finish without interruptions. You’re pretty sure you used to smile, and not the deranged, Joker-esque grin you’ve developed from trying to maintain your sanity while walking a screaming infant around the house at 2 a.m.

And where is your darling wife, Alexia, in all this? Nowhere to be found. Well, she’s at work, technically. Which, fine. Someone has to pay the bills, but wasn’t there some kind of brochure about shared responsibility? Maybe she’s left it in her locker, along with her soul. You barely remember what she looks like at this point. You could pass her in the hallway and just nod politely, like she’s the postman.

You’re doing your best. Really, you are. But the situation is like trying to fill a bath with a teaspoon. And maybe you’re filling the bath wrong. Maybe the bath is cursed. You’ve tried everything—rocking, singing, automatic bouncers, and some baby yoga thing that some well-meaning Instagram mum swore by but mostly just made you realise how tight your hamstrings are.

Last night, you were so desperate, you found yourself Googling “Can babies drink Nyquil?” You didn’t actually give it to him, of course, but the fact that you even considered it is telling. Your maternal instincts have been reduced to the level of a sleep-deprived zombie.

You call Alexia. She picks up after the third ring. You can hear the echo of her voice, so you know she’s in one of those soundproof meeting rooms, which would be useful for something other than work right now, like, say, your mental breakdown.

“How’s it going?” she asks, with a tone that implies she has absolutely no idea how it’s going.

“Oh, fine,” you say, with the kind of deadpan delivery that would get a standing ovation on a late-night comedy show. “The baby’s great. He’s taken up wailing as a full-time job. He’s really passionate about it, you know? Very dedicated. I think he’s trying to set a record”

You hear her exhale softly. “I’m sorry, bebè. It’s just i'm in the middle of some media stuff—”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “By all means, finish giving your opinions on that new stadium or whatever. I’m sure our baby will appreciate it when he’s, I don’t know, 18 and actually sleeping. Maybe he’ll get a job there. Or just stand outside and scream, since that seems to be his true calling”

There’s a pause on the other end. Not a comfortable pause. The kind of pause that suggests she’s realising you might not be entirely okay. The baby shrieks louder, and you realise you’re bouncing him up and down like he’s a basketball and you’re trying to make a buzzer-beater shot.

“I’ll be home soon,” Alexia says finally, her voice softer.

“Define ‘soon,’” you counter, adjusting your grip on the baby before he launches himself out of your arms and catapults into a new dimension where babies don’t need sleep. “Is it ‘soon’ like in 20 minutes, or ‘soon’ like in three hours when I’ve lost the will to live?”

Another pause, this one even worse. You’re pretty sure you can hear her wincing through the phone.

“An hour?” she offers weakly, and you let out a laugh that’s halfway between genuine and maniacal.

“Perfect,” you say. “I’ll just go cry in the airing cupboard until then. The baby and I have matching dark circles under our eyes now, so that’s fun. Maybe we’ll start a band”

You hang up before she can respond, not trusting yourself to say anything else. You’re exhausted, stretched thin, and the fact that your wife isn’t here to witness the madness is only making things worse. You know she’s working hard, that she’s doing her best, but in this moment, it feels like you’re on a sinking ship and she’s on shore, waving at you from a distance.

An hour later, when she finally walks through the door, you’re sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by a sea of baby toys, burp cloths, and what you think might be some sort of baby vomit, though at this point, who really knows?

You look up at her, and she looks back at you, and there’s a brief moment where you’re pretty sure she’s about to turn around and walk right back out the door.

Instead, she says, “I brought wine”

You blink at her, then at the bottle of wine in her hand. It’s a good bottle, too. The kind you used to drink before you had a baby and your definition of “good wine” became “whatever has the highest alcohol content and is closest to the till”

“Great,” you say, pushing yourself up off the floor with a grunt. “Let’s get the baby drunk”

She gives you a tired smile, but you can see the worry behind it. “Cariño…”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, holding up a hand. “It’s totally fine. I’m just saying, if we give him some wine, maybe he’ll sleep. Or at least pass out for a little bit. We can all get some rest. Or die. Either one sounds good at this point”

She sighs, setting the bottle down on the coffee table and coming over to you. She takes the baby from your arms, and you’re almost tempted to just collapse on the spot. Instead, you let yourself lean against her, just for a moment, just long enough to remember what it feels like to be supported by another human being.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and you can hear the guilt in her voice. “I know this is hard. I’ll try to be here more”

You nod, but you’re too tired to respond with words. Instead, you just rest your head on her shoulder and close your eyes, savouring the brief reprieve from the bedlam.

“Do you think he’s broken?” you mumble after a while. “Like, did we get a defective baby?”

Alexia chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “No, he’s not broken. He’s just…expressive”

“Expressive,” you repeat, nodding slowly. “Right. So we got the model with all the extra emotions. Great”

“Extra emotions,” Alexia echoes, her tone lightening. “Maybe that means he’ll be a really good artist someday”

“Or he’ll just be really good at screaming,” you say, lifting your head to look at her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be on a team, you’ve been doing a lot of solo missions lately”

“I know,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better”

You let out a long breath, feeling the tension between you, and your shoulder, start to ease. “Okay. But if he screams one more time tonight, we’re selling him to the circus”

“Got it,” Alexia says with a smile, and for the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not going through this alone.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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animeshotsh · 7 months ago

Text

Them as Husbands | HCS |

Summary: Dating + Getting married

Warnings: Mentions of Alastor tendecies, grammar mistakes.

☆ LUCIFER

Best Husband ever.

He gives off the husband of the year.

Will open doors for you, will get you gifts because of a very simple reason (ducks)

Never lets you go away alone, he knows no one would dare hurt the S/O of the king of hell but still...he prefers to be sure.

Will buy whatever you want, even if you were looking at something out of curiosity, its yours.

Is going to introduce you to Charlie and hope you two get along well. Probably Charlie already knows about you since her dad was worried she would see him trying to remplace her mother. But Charlie is actually happy to see her father moving on and being happier!! She is fully supportive.

proposed to you in a wold yet amazing way. This man is down bad for you. Will get the perfect place, music, set up, get on one knee and ask you to be by his side for the eternity.

☆ VOX

He never expected himself to be a husband...with how fast the world progress and how relationships seems well just a thing to past time, he was sure he was out of the game.

Then he meets you, and he glitches because now all these romantic dramas he sees at 1am make sense to him. How everything slows down when he sees you, how the sounds are muffled when talking to you.

He does so many virus and hacks checks on himself to be sure what he feels.

Then is a nervous tv head. This man knows how to flirt and sleep around, not date. Its going to be akward but sweet. He falls first and hard. No one could ever make him dream on getting married.

The ��ay he finally proposes is away form cameras, he prefers privacy for this (and is afraid you will say not but he also does not want to social pressure you).

Oh and when you say yes...the news are all about it. He is so dam happy, no one has ever seen him this happier (well unless is Alastor losing).

As a husband he is a gentlemen. He makes your house/aparment all last generation, so you only have to worry over sleeping and doing your hobbies.

Has the best emergency and security in your home/aparment. He is away most of the day so he likes to be sure you are safe and ok.

Yes, will spy you using cameras.

☆ STOLAS

Baby Owl wants a S/O who will respect him and love him for who he is.

Its going to be very and i mean very wary of your intentions with him. He may sleep with you and kiss you but wont fall fast. He is too hurt for that.

Once he feels enough confidence he will ask you to date him directly, no fooling around, you and him.

Will introduce you to Octavia and will be in cloud nine once you two start to bond.

His proposal is well, in space itself. Will take you to your favorite planet, to see the born of a star (signaling the start of your marriage with him) and ask you getting on one knee.

As a husband he is very sweet and tender. Always making sure you are happy with him and with your life. He does not want it to fail so he gives his best. Will need your support on it. Its not shy to cry to you about his fears.

Wants to have another kid with you, by adopting or impregnating you. Its your choice.

☆ ALASTOR

He comes from a time of change but believes once two peopel are dating they must get married sooner or later.

Well, getting him to date you is hard. It takes a lot for the idea to even pass by his head and stay. But somehow you end dating him.

He is someone who prefers quiet dates, you two and thats it. Will take you out if you ask him.

Since he pretty much has the idea of marry you since he accepted you as his S/O he will prepare something more special. Probably a dinner and a sweet speech with jazz in the background.

Letting aside his tendecies and him being a murder he is another gentlemen with you. Opens doors for you, dances with you. If you are from his same period of time he may expect you to make him food, but dont worry if you dont want to he will understand.

Is protective. Knows he has enemies, thats why he has one shadow with you all the time.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #stolas x reader

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yxtubers · 2 months ago

Text

✮ 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬

⤷ spencer agnew x reader

🗒️ summary: it’s your first time on the gaming channel and you’re nervous - but your boyfriend is there to help you

warnings: none, pure fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FOR THE PAST few weeks Spencer has been asking you to play the Resident Evil 4 Remake with him. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. You loved sharing his hobbies with him, and you’d usually agree in a heartbeat - except for the fact that it was gonna be recorded.

And he had insisted that he wanted you to play it.

Sure, you were used to doing stupid and silly things on camera, yet playing a game you had no experience in made you nervous.

Unfortunately you could never say no to him when he seemed so excited about the idea. Every time he brought it up he had the brightest smile on his face, expressing his wish for just the two of you to hang out on camera, him guiding you through a game he really loved.

That’s how you ended up here, controller in your shaky hands as your boyfriend introduced the video. You were just grateful it wasn’t being live streamed.

“On today’s edition of: Teaching Girls Video Games,” Spencer started, earning an eye-roll from you, your scoff holding some humor in it as you nudged his shoulder.

He briefly explained some backstory to you before he told you to the start the game. Since it began with a cutscene, you rested the controller on the table in front of you, placing your hands on your lap as you toyed with your fingers.

You felt fine when it was just you two. Spencer was patient whenever you messed up, or needed extra time for harder fight scenes. However, in a room full of crews and cameras watching you, you felt a newfound pressure to do well. Everybody wanted to go home as it was the last shoot of the day. You’d feel terrible if they all had to stay extra because you couldn’t play well.

Taking a deep breath in, you tried to shake the thoughts away.

Spencer, ever the observer, slowly, almost imperceptibly snaked his hand over to yours. His movements were so gentle they could barely be picked up on the camera - and you were glad for that as you felt his pinkie interlock with yours under the table. He gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“Am I playing yet?” you asked, earning a laugh.

“I’ll tell you when, just watch the movie,” he joked back, pointing to the screen with his free hand.

When the time came, you hesitantly let go of Spencer’s pinkie to pick up the controller. What you weren’t expecting was for a warm palm to rest above your knee, tracing patterns across the denim as you began to move your character.

You tried to hold back your smile as your face heated up at the contact. “Wait, no,” you laughed, “I’m scared, why is it so dark?”

Another squeeze.

“Just keep exploring. I’ll take over if you suck,” Spencer replied, trying to lighten the mood.

“You swallow.”

The man only shook his head as he kept his eyes trained to the screen, making sure you were going the right way. To everybody else it would seem as if he was just really focused on the game, but you knew he wanted to help you as much as he could. And hopefully to warn you about jump scares.

As the video went on, his hand almost never left your leg. Occasionally he would remove it to take a drink or to emphasize his words, then it would go back to its comfortable place, grounding you in the present. It was like your personal anchor.

“Turn left here, and watch out for that trap.”

His hand came to point at something on the screen. All you could look at was him - the way he explained your objective, how attentive he was, how helpful he was being.

You could already sense what the comments would be. As always, when it came to your boyfriend, you still couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Especially when his lips looked so pretty as he talked.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, blinking to regain your attention.

“And you just totally blanked on everything I said,” Spencer said, pretending to be annoyed. The fingers trailing circles and stars on your knee said otherwise, though.

“I always do. You should know this.”

Alex laughed in the back, and suddenly you felt more confident that you had been at the start. Why you were ever anxious when you had such a sweet boyfriend to keep you calm, you had no idea.

Maybe you should come on this channel more often.

- - -

©𝐲𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew imagine #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh games #smoshblr #smosh squad #smosh x reader #smosh fic #smosh cast #smosh crew #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer agnew smosh #smosh spencer

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baepsays · 3 months ago

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Suck it and See ⸻how you met stoner Suguru.

☽⋆.˚ WASTED AND ABSORBED ⸺03

series description : chronicles of geto suguru and your experiences as a couple who just happen to like getting high together.

description: of all places, Geto Suguru didn't expect to meet a girl with knee high socks, who practically pulled him in like an eager sacrifice to the Siren— at a frat party surrounded by smoke. cw: use of she/her pronouns, fem oriented reader, mentions of drugs, weed, and alcohol; nothing much this is mostly a meet cute-ish, lore stuff really, artic monkeys references everywhere, they mild nsfw stuff.

playlist inspired by the content.

What a pleasure it is to be surrounded by sweaty people you barely know in a room full of smoke. All because your best friend is an extroverted social butterfly of a freak.

Safe to say, Geto Suguru would be anywhere but here right now. But maybe he does need some free alcohol and free cigarettes, a finance degree is the furthest thing from causation of sobriety. And as an average university student reliant on caffeine, alcohol, and cigarettes—completing his last semester and starting his big-time finance bro job later this year might I add—he is oddly conservative when it comes to weed though, if we're talking about ways to numb yourself.

The fact he has seen people actually do much worse actual hard drugs and yet he has a bigger opinion about the devil's lettuce of all things available out there. The only viable reason which can be given is that he had a stoner roommate during his first semester and it was the worst time of his entire university life. And honestly, he has seen Gojo get high for the sake of trying it, that was not fun for anyone but Shoko who was filming Suguru trying to stop Gojo from jumping off the balcony to chase a cat he apparently saw (there was no cat).

But these are excuses really. Well, Geto Suguru would not say he is repulsed by weed. In fact, he has tried it himself once. It was mostly about going along with his high school debate team who wanted to get high during one of their out-of-town tournaments. And guess what. High Suguru went on and blurted out all his little animosities to big grudges against everyone there and somehow fell asleep next to a trashcan in the hallway. Thankfully no one remembered and the video footage of all of this happening went into his hands first. He made sure to delete everything and ask around without being suspicious if anyone remembered anything he said. He was safe since they all forgot about everything.

Since then, he has steered clear of weed, it does odd things to him which no other substances do. Even when he is drunk out of his mind or buzzing with caffeine and nicotine, he is never impulsive. He always has control. And the fact he let that control slip is very scary. Matter of fact, despite his side hobby of making fun of a scared Gojo during horror movie marathons, Suguru himself didn't like being scared by something unknown or letting himself slip out in front of someone he would rather not have seen him like that .

Yet here he was, at one of the more famous frats who are known for their weed more than their alcohol and what not. I mean, it's not about where you end up but what you're looking for, right? Maybe that doesn't make much sense but so doesn't his last assignment of the semester before exams start, which carries 40% of his marks.

And for someone who isn't looking for weed, his amazing friend makes sure to pull him right into the room full of—who apparently seemed to be—stoners. Supposedly Satoru knows someone there, but he also knows way too many people for his liking. The amount of time he has to stop, stand, and stare around to wait for Satoru to finish chatting with yet another stranger—infinite really.

Regrets of ending up in that room without any alcohol in his hand, seemed to have flown right out of the room with the smoke. And it might as well have been the residual of weed in the air, but what's happening in his head was alarming. Right across from the person Satoru apparently knew, sat this gorgeous being, looking ever so effervescent and oozing mystique surrounded by clouds of smoke (he is a poet everyone). Wearing, what in his mind seemed like, the most poorly constructed skirt, practically giving away the secret eighth wonder of the world—which are those thighs. And is that fishnet? Someone please check on him, is he having a nosebleed? If not, that tight top perfectly snug around your chest, might do the job. More over the breasts, it was the neck. How can someone find a neck that beautiful? I wouldn't know, ask Suguru.

Real question is who wears knee high socks in the summer? He is not complaining, it somehow really works for you, and it works wonders on him. Again, it might be the weed. It has to be, because Geto Suguru, who is the most calculated person you'll know—sly little shit who is known for being the level headed, mysterious, lady's man— he may be just as much of a menace as Gojo and just as silly, he just knows how to mask it. And he's losing it. He's losing that control, because why aren't his ears working? His eyes refuse to focus on anything but you dragging a smoke out of the joint, which was passed to you by someone. And his legs are moving on their own towards the couch where you are sitting with the only person who you seem remotely interested in, 'might be her friend' he assumes, while ignoring this other guy who seems to be high off his mind talking about who knows what. His ears already made the effort of blocking out every sound, including Gojo's, who was calling him out because he wanted to introduce Suguru to his friend.

"Hey"

Real smooth from Mr. Lady's man over here. Incredible opener to introduce yourself to this person who may or may not be a witch cause why is he completely under this sort of trance as if he is the one sucking on that joint. Also, the fact he is just awkwardly standing in front of you while you look up at him through your lashes, unbothered and definitely high, still sitting on that couch—he must've inhaled too much weed smoke.

"Did you mean to say that to me? Because I think your friend needs you over there actually."

You say after blinking at him twice, then point across to you where Gojo and his friend are sitting. It's rather a given to be confused by this random long-haired Rapunzel to awkwardly stand before you like he doesn't know any better about how to interact socially, he's not drunk definitely, you saw him and his friend stroll in through the doors just a few minutes ago. Why would you even bother to care enough to remember that? Well, Rapunzel here is too gorgeous for his own good, secondly, you're high and feeling rather needy.

Pre-finals week suck, universal sentiment shared by all degree pursuing students. So here you are on this couch, in some frat, with your friend who's seeing one of the frat members. All you expected was some good quality rich boy weed and alcohol, nothing more really. Sleeping with someone you met at a frat party, reeks of STDs. And yet here you are looking at this gorgeous man looking like he doesn't have any thoughts behind his eyes, contrary to what you assumed, from afar he looked like a manipulative man whore. The world might be full of surprises or he's a theatre major.

"Huh?" — is all Suguru somehow manages to utter, it's illegal to smell that good while also smelling like weed, what god forsaken perfume you're using? Those eyes are enough, why do you need to crawl through all his five senses and wrap your hands around his brain.

"Huh." You say with one raised eyebrow. Seems like you've found yourself an excuse to escape.

"Seems like you don't know anything other than three lettered words starting with h."

He just stares into your eyes and lets you throw that jab at him. Really just too enchanted to speak, it's not that this is something he's choosing to do. He'd rather sit across from you and socialize with Gojo, while staring you down from time to time, then after much considerable eye contact, he'll slide himself to your side of the couch, asking your permission to have a seat, with much charisma no one can deny.

Yet here he is, not drunk, or losing his mind with weed—purely high off of sucking in your presence. This is only the second time he has lost control over a situation, and this time he is completely sober. New discoveries are made every second he supposed. Because if a sly talker like him, one who especially finds existential joy in countering the opposing person's jabs, is standing here tongue tied—he believes climate change can be reversed then. (How wishful)

You get off the couch to stand facing him, way too close to him for his sanity's sake, between the narrow gap between him and the couch—you might be shorter than him but your gaze is too piercing. And yet he cannot look away.

"Would you rather I dragged you out of this room? Maybe the smoke is getting to your head huh?"

Takes a second for Suguru to contextualize what you just suggested. And without any power to verbally respond, he simply nods into agreement. Somehow in that moment his incognizant brain decided that maybe leaving himself to your devices in this situation is the most natural thing to do. In fact, you might as well have all consumed him and he couldn't care any less.

All he cares about is that you're taking his hands in your hands, which made him think it might be a missing puzzle piece that only fits in perfectly with his, and dragging him out after a little bye to your friend and Gojo as well. Suguru is really out of it. He's not going to hear the end of it from Gojo, while he retells this story to their friends in the most overexaggerated way, which is so impossible given how ridiculous he is acting right now. Anything less dramatic than a Shakespearean play wouldn't do justice to exactly what played out in there. Yet Gojo Satoru will make sure to put a shame to Shakespeare's dramatics. That's his headache for later, let's focus on the ache in his palpitating heart.

You drag him out of that room, into the big living room or space and then drag him through the crowd to one of the rooms on the first floor, and take him straight to the balcony attached to it. The balcony sits right above the pool. Below you two, you can see most people congregating around there, swimming or just dancing or talking. Most of the speakers are there playing every frat bro's Spotify rotation probably. It's dark enough and tucked away nicely for anyone to notice you two there even if they look up—you saw this balcony the first time you visited this house with your friend cause of the guy she was seeing and since it was not a party, it was clear in the daylight that it was a nice place to people watch from. Or just enjoy the music,

'And her lips are like the galaxy's edge

And her kiss the colour of a constellation fallin’ into place'

Suguru couldn't agree more. If he didn't know any better— he'd say the song was about you. Because right now he is pulling out the lighter out of his pockets. Moving it towards your direction and halting halfway in the little space in between you two. Suguru wouldn't write this out as some kind gesture. He would never even think of sharing his prized lighter. It has been with him since he found it one day visiting his grandma's village home with his parents. Lying in a puddle of mud near the river that flowed behind her house. Scratch random people he wouldn't even let Satoru touch it or let Shoko take a light with it. Yet here he is— silently helping you out all because it looked like with the roll of a joint tucked in your bra, you forgot to bring a light.

You stare back and forth between the burning flame and his face. Contemplating perhaps. Then you move forward grab a hold on his hand, which was holding up the lighter, just a bit far for you to easily lean in and ignite the blunt. So you move, move to now sit face to face with him, both your knees on either side of his thighs—hovering over him, hands holding his, which was holding his silver lit up lighter. You lean forward probably closer to his face than the lighter even, all while keeping constant eye contact. You move your head to your left and finally burn the joint pressed in between your lips, after what seemed like an eternity.

Once the smoke comes out, you unwrap your lips from the joint and smile at Suguru, not one of those half smiles you've been throwing at him all this time. A genuine laidback smile.

"Thanks uh- oh wait I don't even know your name"

"Well I haven't given it to you yet."

"You gave me your lighter, might as well give me your heart. How much more could your name matter?"

Well he might as well have given you his heart and what even is in the name, if he could he would give you the entirety of the galaxy, but It would probably fade out in your comparison.

"Suguru. Geto Suguru."

"Nice to meet you Suguru."

"And what more might you need other than my lighter, heart, and name in exchange for your name?"

"I don't know? Anything tempting you are offering? Perhaps a seat right here?"

Did you mean right there? There on his lap?

"I wouldn't ever deny you anything."

So you did in fact mean his lap. Cause you perch right up on there and drag a long smoke out of your joint, blowing the smoke up in the sky above you two.

"L/n Y/n. And I'll hold you onto that claim."

"Do you always ask people for names in exchange for a seat on their lap?" Suguru smirks and tries to regain some confidence and control over the situation. If he wants to keep you right where you are, he would need to get out of the haze of intoxication — which was ironically not the weed in the air but just your existence.

"I never really ask for names. Really bad at remembering them. And as for seats, hmm I don't know. Your legs looked more comfortable and warm than the cold floor. And you looked sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Why? Does that not describe your —chase Atlantic and Artic Monkeys, cigarette smoker, fuck weed i am better than that, only dark colors— aesthetic?"

"How did you know I don't like weed?"

"Made a face right as you walked into the room down there. Also anyone else would've asked to borrow this by now." You move the blunt in between your fingers slightly to signify what you're talking about.

"Does that not bother you?"

"I mean it doesn't bother you that I am smoking this right in your face, if you had said something I would've respected that as well. I don't really care what you think is the standard for intoxication."

Suguru just smiles. He doesn't really have a topic exactly to speak about. He is in fact not capable of doing much right now you've rid him of the taste of control and the only taste he wants to be acclimated with from this moment onwards is yours. And he doesn't care about this change. He knows your name, he knows the feel of your fishnets against your skin. He knows the material of your lethal skirt. He knows the vanilla and jasmine notes of your perfume. He knows the exact color of your eyes and how many eyelashes you have. And he thinks that is enough.

'You have got that face that just says

"Baby, I was made to break your heart"'

You might as well break his heart, do as you please with it. It burnt away from his grasp the moment you burnt the end of your joint using his lighter.

"Looks like they are more intoxicating than any drug in existence." Was he talking about the blunt? Because his eyes were aimed at your lips. And he was unaware of what he even let slip out of his own lips.

"Suck it and see. You never know."

Not wasting a second with your unaware confirmation, Suguru moves forward. The hand on your fishnet clad thigh tightens, digging into the supple skin, weaving the fingers with the fishnet itself. The other hand, coming up to your lips, taking out the joint and throwing it out somewhere on the balcony, his fingers first touch your lips with light touches as if one touch is too heavy and you'll disperse into thin air. Slowly the fingers on your lips start pressing down on, well past both of your lips, making an audible gasp leave your mouth involuntarily. His fingers dig around the entrance to your mouth— rubbing your lips, then proceeds to press down on your tongue and graze over your teeth interchangeably. All while staring into your eyes, or staring at you, your eyes might as well be all white or shut close. Anything partially visible, is all a blur.

And you allow him all of it. You allow him to twist his fingers up to rub his rough finger pads on the along the expanse of your hard palate and soft palate, borderline trying to choke you. You simply allow it. You allow those hands to explore parts of you even out of your own reach. One digging in your mouth, other trying to make itself at home on your thighs—practically memorizing every little stretch mark running along your skin. He wants to know it all, have it all and who are you to deny a starved man?

When he's had enough of his little exploration, his own pairs of lips come crashing down on you. A sigh of almost a relief, leaves both your lungs. It is not quite relief, it is nice to finally have him kiss you—but his lips are the kind to leave your head dizzy, head swaying, forgetful of the whole process of breathing through your nose while he devours you, eyes flickering like unreliable headlights on the highway. You might as well be crashing out.

His lips are caging in yours, tongue fencing with yours, hands roaming around you like he's gonna find the most prized treasure on the surface of your skin. Guiding your hips to force down on his lap and roll them into little grids of desperation. Who was exactly the desperate one here?

At that point it all becomes too overwhelming to have your ability to breath taken away. So you push him off, with no ease. It was as if pushing him and pulling yourself back simply made him hold onto you harder. And when his lips did leave you alone, they go on to chase your lips to find his rightful place back on them.

You put one of your hands on his mouth to halt him, all that does is make you have goosebumps all over your body—having him look up to you with his desperate and hazed mono lids, the purple-brownish shade of his pupils burning you up. And him just heaving in your hand, short of breath, was of no help either.

“I was talking about the joint.” you breath out with an exasperated sigh.

“Well I am not sorry.” He leaves a feather light kiss on your hand covering his mouth.

“What even are you?” Genuinely, how does a man with gorgeous hair and horrible vocabulary make you fold so easily?

“‘I am a fool for you.”

A/N: dividers by @/sister-lucifer & @/omi-resources, header from my own gallery. And I didn't proofread half of this ok IT IS HARD TO READ YOUR OWN WORK

SERIES MASTERLIST . <prev | next> soon!

To check out more of my work click here.

tag list: @moonlitwitchdaisy @madamechrissy @cuntphoric @fuwagojo @aishi-toru @theorphicangel @rriwyu

if you would like to be added to future possible tag lists, please drop a comment here or under the series masterlist and feel free to send asks! i got a few anon asks about this but unfortunately idk their @'s :(

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wosospacegirl · 2 months ago

Text

And they were roommates - part 2

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate, Kyra, is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; reader might have a crush on Kyra ;)

Word count: 3.4k

Masterlist

You can read part 1 here and part 3 here

Over the next few days, Kyra and Y/n settle into a comfortable, domestic routine.

Kyra was the first to wake up each day. She went straight to Y/n’s room to check on her and give her her morning medication, along with a cup of black coffee.

Y/n didn’t like mornings, especially now with the heavy cast on her leg. Kyra, on the other hand, loved mornings, so she sat by Y/n’s bed and chatted for 20 minutes straight while Y/n nodded along to whatever Kyra was saying.

“—And that's how we’re beating Man United this weekend,” Kyra concluded after a long thought process about technical strategies that would lead the Gunners to yet another victory. “I mean, they can’t keep putting her as a winger, right?” Kyra turned to Y/n, waiting for her to nod again.

“How can you have so much to say at 7 am?” Y/n asked, hiding her face in her pillow.

“I just do, it’s a talent, you wouldn’t know it, Grumpy,” Kyra shrugged and threw herself on the bed next to Y/n, the sunlight hitting Kyra’s freckles.

Kyra was wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old, oversized t-shirt, she looked pretty, comfy, and very cuddly too.

“Will you come with me today?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects, caution in her voice.

“Where?” Y/n asked confused, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t supposed to go to physiotherapy or the doctor for another two weeks.

“Training?” Kyra explained, holding her head with one hand as she rested her elbow on the mattress. “They miss you, the girls, I mean. You could go there for a few hours, talk to Alessia, Leah, Steph… I bet Win misses you too,”

“I’m not in the mood,” Y/n said, turning her back to Kyra. Y/n missed the girls, but it would be too upsetting to see them running around while she could barely stand on her own.

“You’ve said that the last three times, Y/n” Kyra sighed. “You haven’t left the house, not once, and you also won’t talk to anyone but me and your mom. That’s worrying. You can’t just wait for me to come home every day, you also need to do relaxing and fun things for yourself.” Y/n felt a pleasant pressure on her shoulder. It was Kyra’s hand.

You can’t just stay here in bed and rot, maybe you could start a new hobby! Painting, sudoku, I don’t know!”Kyra continued, using the serious tone she never used with Y/n. “You need to see people, see your friends, get some fresh air.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “And do what? Talk about how miserable I am all the time?” Y/n said bitterly.

Kyra didn’t understand.

She had never been seriously injured before, she didn’t know what it was like to just go to bed every day not knowing what the future held. Football was everything to Y/n. It was her passion, her hobby and her career. Ninety per cent of her friends were footballers themselves, her whole social circle revolved around football.

Without it, she was nothing Football’s been her thing since she was a kid. Y/n had grown up with a ball on her feet, and now it was gone, and she didn’t know if she would get it back. Right now, Y/n was nothing.

Kyra pressed her lips together and stared at the girl, trying to think of what to say.

“Go away please, I want to be alone,” Y/n muttered after the room had gone quiet.

“No,” Kyra said. “Let’s talk about this, let’s—”

“Go. Away.” Y/n snapped.

Y/n felt the shift in the mattress. Kyra wasn’t sitting on it anymore. “You can’t keep pushing people away, it’ll only hurt you even more,” Kyra said quietly. “You can’t let yourself go like that, you know how easy it is for us athletes to get depressed after an injury, I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m not depressed, Kyra!” Y/n locked eyes with the other girl, anger slowly building in her chest. “I just don’t have anything! If I talk to the girls all I’ll think about is how they’re playing and I’m not.

“You don’t have anything?!” Kyra raised her voice. “What do you mean you have nothing? You’re not just your fucking leg, or your football—You’re a whole person! Just because you can’t play right now doesn’t mean you have no worth.”

Y/n remained silent as Kyra’s voice escalated. Kyra was starting to get angry with her. Kyra had never been angry with her before.

“You are injured! Your tibia split in two, of course, it’ll take some time to heal. Does that mean you have to stay in the house for the remaining months? Of course not!” Kyra’s face was flushed, and she was out of breath.

“Kyra, my whole life had been inside a pitch, I don’t know how the fuck to live without knowing if I’ll ever be in one again!” Y/n exploded, pointing at her cast “And this fucking leg hurts all the time, it’s always a reminder of how unhappy I am and how the world kept on moving while I just stay here!”

“But you don’t have to just stay here! You are the one who is avoiding the world, but it hasn’t stopped for you, it never has! Especially because you have people who care about you! You would know that if you would answered your phone when your friends called,” Kyra rubbed her eyes, tiredly.

“Why is it so hard for you to be kind and patient with yourself?” Kyra asked, looking genuinely confused, trying to find the answer to her question on Y/n’s face. “It’s so easy to treat you well, I don’t know why you find it so difficult.”

Kyra finally took a deep breath, and then another.

“Okay, I’m calm now. I’m sorry,” Kyra said, unclenching her fist. “I didn’t mean to get mad at you, I know you’re frustrated and angry right now. I just wish you’d be more compassionate with yourself and your body.

The room was silent.

“I’ll just… go then. I have to be at training in half an hour anyway,” Kyra took a step closer to where Y/n was lying, she dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Just don’t—rot in bed the whole day, ok? I’ll buy you some food and send it over at lunchtime so you can eat something other than crisps”.

Y/n felt her skin warm where Kyra had kissed her. She barely had time to process it before Kyra pulled away. “Okay, thank you,” Y/n whispered, she couldn’t help the blush creeping up her neck.

She should say something, she should say how sorry she was and how ungrateful she had been, Kyra didn’t complain about having to put up with her. Often Y/n felt that she didn’t deserve to have Kyra by her side and now was one of those times. She felt embarrassed by the way she just acted.

Y/n wasn’t someone who felt at ease with vulnerability. She didn’t normally let people see her at her lowest, except her closest friend, of course, but even now the thought of seeing them, of going back to Arsenal, even if for a few hours, felt excruciating.

It was as if life was mocking Y/n. Everyone’s life would go on, even if hers was frozen in time. Arsenal still had good and healthy athletes to train.

Kyra still had responsibilities to attend ttoY/n didn’t, not for the months ahead of her.

Eight months the doctor said, eight months until (and if) she could run. Would she be this bitter for that long? Was she going to stay frustrated with everything and everyone forever? Was she going to shut herself off from her teammates—her friends—if she didn’t heal the way she intended?

Change was a slow process, but Y/n decided to start it right now.

“Ky?” Y/n called.

“Yeah?”

“I’m being an idiot,” Y/n admitted.

Kyra smiled. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n apologized. Small steps.

“It’s fine, you are a lot meaner when you lose at UNO, it didn’t scare me.”

Both girls smiled at each other.

Kyra held no grudges; it was one of the things Y/n admired the most about her.

“But if you really want me to forgive you, you’ll let me do something,” Kyra added, mischievous in her voice.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “What?’

“You’ll see,” Kyra said before leaving the room. “I’ll be back around 3 pm, see you!”

Y/n heard the front door close, and now she was alone. Y/n thought she enjoyed being alone, but deep down she didn’t. She missed Kyra when she was away. The house no longer felt warm and comforting; instead; it felt cold and isolated.

Y/n thought about Kyra’s words; about her being kind to others and not to herself. When Beth and Viv tore their ACLs, Y/n committed herself to take their dogs on a walk every day, since the couple couldn’t walk.

When Vic got injured Y/n made sure she was left alone during the physio sessions. When Leah also tore her ACL she made sure to call her every day to see how she was doing; Leah, unlike Y/n, answered her calls.

Y/n had so much love and support around her. She needed it to allow herself to receive it.

Y/n looked around her room. It felt strange now. Before her surgery, she had thought the room was rather cosy, with its green walls and light wooden furniture, but now it felt like a prison.

Maybe Kyra would agree to put on a mattress in the living room and make it into a bed. Then both girls could just sleep there, and watch some films. It would probably bring Y/n some comfort.

Hours later Kyra came back from training wearing a black kit. Her hair was in a ponytail, with grass and dirt on it. Y/n wasn’t sure if it was because of their fight earlier, but Kyra seemed different somehow

Even though Kyra was all dirty, y/n couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked. She realised she hadn’t seen Kyra with her hair in a ponytail before, she always wore it in a bun. It was nice, maybe the new hairstyle was the reason why Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

Cute, Kyra is cute.

She has always been cute, of course, but in the last few days, she looked even prettier. It’s okay to think your friends are cute. It was normal. Y/n thought to herself as Kyra bent down to take out her shoes, the black legging hugging her body. The book Y/n had in hand long forgotten.

Hot. Y/n thought. She was hot.

Maybe it wasn’t okay to think your friends were hot.

“Sorry?” Kyra asked turning to face Y/n.

Y/n widened her eyes. “What? Y/n said, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, had she said that out loud? And why did she sound so defensive? Chill out. “I didn’t say anything., she said, in a calmer tone, closing her book.

“Yes, you did,” Kyra insisted, looking at her with a smile. She let her hair out of the ponytail, letting it fall over her shoulder.

“Nop! You’re going mad, I’m afraid.” Y/n asserted, chin up.

“It must be all the time we spend together, then” Kyra raised a brow.

A lot of time together, indeed.

“Wait, is that a book? I haven’t seen you with a book for a while, I’m proud you still know your letters.” Kyra continued, a smirk on her face

Kyra was right, thought. With football and national camps, she hadn’t had time to read. It had been embarrassing years since she picked up a book. But now she had time, so she just took advantage of it.

“Haha you’re so funny,” Y/n said dryly. “You told me to do something nice for myself, so I decided to read this book I had lying around,” Y/n said, proudly.

Kyra looked dramatically surprised. “Wow, you actually listened to me? Did something happen while I was gone? Did you fall? Oh, you might have brain haemorrhage!”

“The ability you have to turn a normal conversation into a sarcastic one will always blow my mind,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“Good thing I love to blow your mind,” Kyra said before realizing the double meaning of what she just said.

The girls stared at each other.

“Okay that was awkward,” Kyra mumbled, blushing. “I mean it like—”

Y/n laughed, thinking it was cute how embarrassed Kyra looked. Usually, Kyra was the one who put people in awkward situations.

“It’s all right, I got what you meant,” Y/n said, offering a small smile. “So—” She changed the subject, not wanting Kyra to feel uncomfortable. “What was that thing you wanted me to do so you can forgive me?”

Kyra looked at her watch. “You won’t have to do anything. But they will be here soon.”

Y/n frowned slightly. “Did you get that line from some horror film? Who the hell are they?”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, I’m trying to be mysterious here”.

“You sound suspicious, not mysterious!”

“Oh, shut up, just sit there and look pretty, no more questions, please.”

Y/n welcomed the compliment “Why, because you won’t be able not to tell me?” She challenged.

Kyra was the worst secret keeper she had ever known.

“You know me so well actually!” Kyra said. “Stop asking questions. I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be right back,” Kyra said before heading upstairs.

Don’t go. Y/n almost said. Almost begged her to keep that kit on so Y/n could just look at her for a few moments.

The thing was: Y/n got used to having Kyra around, not just because she needed Kyra’s help to get things done, but because she just…appreciated her presence.

Y/n was always bored to tears while Kyra was away for training or a match day, so when Kyra came home, Y/n wanted her all to herself. Which was a bit strange.

Kyra Cooney-Cross was making Y/n think of very, very weird things. She wasn’t necessarily upset about it, though.

Minutes later Kyra stepped out of the shower, wearing sweatpants and an Arsenal hoodie. Y/n welcomed the sight more than she’d ever admit. Kyra was pretty, prettier than yesterday and the day before that.

Was Y/n suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Could that be the reason she was fancying Kyra? As it genuinely finding her attractive and not a bets mate type of way?

Kyra was attractive, of course. But Y/n hadn’t realised just how much it messed with her mind, and mostly her body. Kyra was her friend. Not as in a friends-with-benefits thing, but oh they could be, Y/n would be happy about that.

Kyra moved in to help me out, that’s all. She doesn’t like me that way, and that’s fine. Totally fine. Y/n bit her nails, trying to convince herself.

Before Y/n could spiral any further, Kyra clapped her hands and told Y/n to get ready, because apparently, the visitors they were having over were about to arrive.

An hour later Alessia and Leah stopped by with a warm lasagna on Leah’s hands.

It turned out that Kyra was only forgiving Y/n if she agreed to meet some of their friends and socialise for a few hours. “It’ll do you good” Kyra had said.d

“Hey, pest,” Leah greeted Kyra at the door. “How’s your pest doing? She hasn’t been answering mine or Lessie’s messages for a while now, is she dead? Did you kill her?”

“Well good evening to you too, Leah,” Kyra said ironically, letting both Leah and Alessia in, after kissing Alessia on the cheek.

“Why can’t you be like Alessia, she is so nice!” Kyra pouted, pointing at the blonde girl, “She doesn’t call me a pest or anything.”

Leah laughed and handed Kyra the lasagna. “Lessie girl is too nice to ever tell you the truth.”

Kyra and Leah continued their bickering while Alessia made herself at home. The girl was very familiar with Y/n’s house, having spent many film nights here with Y/n and Kyra before Y/n’s injury.

Alessia went into the living room, where she found Y/n sitting on the couch, crutches propped up to the side.

“Less” y/n said cheerfully.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Alessia sat by Y/n’s side, hugging her. “God, I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Y/n smiled and leaned further into Alessia’s embrace. “I missed you too, I feel like dying every time Kyra goes to training and I have to stay here by myself., Y/n confessed.

“Oh, so you miss me when I’m away. That is so lovely to hear!” Kyra's mischievous voice filled the living room as the girl elbowed Leah, “See, I told you she wasn’t bored of me yet.”

“Take me with you, Less, please.” Y/n playfully whispered in Alessia’s ear before the girl’s body was replaced by a taller and leaner one.

Leah hugged Y/n and patted her back before lightly smacking the top of her head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Y/n whined, pouting.

“Me, Beth, Less, Kim—we’ve all been texting you non-stop, and you won’t text us back!” Leah scolded. “We’re not just your teammates, we’re your friends, in case you forgot!”

“Tough love. Told you.” Kyra chimed in from the corner of the room.

“Shut up, Kyra,” Leah and Y/n said in unison.

Y/n kept her eyes down, feeling a little embarrassed. Leah wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past week, she’d only been texting two people: her mom—because otherwise, she’d probably sent the police down; and Kyra—so she could pick up some snacks for Y/n on her way home.

“I know being injured is hard, but you can’t isolate yourself, especially from us!” Leah continued with a gentle reprimand. “You’re only going to feel worse.”

Leah pointed at Alessia, who was now standing next to Kyra. “Lessie told me you didn’t laugh at the memes she sent you! It’s Less, mate—you can’t make Lessie sad.”

If Y/n wasn’t being lectured by her captain, she would’ve laughed at how Leah was using Alessia’s sweetheart personally to make Y/n feel remorse about being a bad friend.

“Also,” Leah continued, now turning to Kyra. “Can you imagine how hard it is to rely on someone like Kyra for updates? Yesterday, she thought it’d be funny to tell Steph one of your bone screws had come loose.”

Y/n snapped her head towards Kyra, who suddenly looked like a kid caught red-handed. “I didn’t even get screws in my surgery! The doctor used locking compression plates instead!” Y/n argued.

“Well, you tell that to Steph,” Leah said dryly. “She cried and said we should call the surgeon responsible for letting you leave the hospital with a loose screw in your leg before Kyra finally told her she was just joking and that you were fine at home.”

“I didn’t think she would actually believe it,” Kyra winced, looking away, a small blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Steph got back at Kyra, don’t worry, Y/n,” Alessia added smiling. “Kyra is now responsible for walking Win every day before training.”

“I hate walking,” Kyra mumbled.

“Should’ve thought of that before messing with Steph,” Leah smirked.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood!” Kyra groaned.

“You don’t always have to fix things with jokes,” Y/n said smiling. “But I appreciate you are—at some point— giving updates to the girls. Still, leave that to me, I’ll start texting you guys back. I am sorry” Y/n apologized, glancing at Leah and Alessia.

“It’s all right kid, we’ve all been there, injuries bring out the worst in us,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s shoulder. “Now can we please eat the lasagna Lessie has made us? I’m starving!”

“You made your lasagna?” Y/n asked, her mouth watering.

“Sure did. I know it’s your favourite,” Alessia said with a wink.

“May you be blessed for all eternity, Less,” Y/n said with an utmost stone face. “It’s been days since I’ve had good food.”

Kyra helped Y/n with her crutches before asking, a firm hand on her lower back. “Days? I’ve been making nutritious meals for us since you got back from the hospital!”

“Putting frozen pizza in the oven isn’t ‘making nutritious meals,’” Y/n teased, accepting Alessia’s hand as she sat down on the dining chair.

“I’m trying my best here,” Kyra huffed, crossing her arms.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kyra’s cheek. “Yeah, Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it very much.” She smiled.” Now let’s eat before Leah passes out from hunger.”

| PART 3 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Masterlist

#woso #woso fanfic #woso imagines #woso x reader #kyra cooney cross #women soccer #arsenal fanfic #woso appreciation #arsenal women #woso community

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ghosty-writes-23 · 13 days ago

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I Feel Like I Am Failing. - Leon S Kennedy.

TAGS: NSFW Content, Mental Health, Angsty, Depression, Overthinking, Mentions of Alcohol Addiction, Unprotected Sex, Mirrors, Soft!Dom!Leon, Mirror Sex, Cum Eating

Pairing: RE6!Husband!Leon + Writer!Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature.

Summary: You had been having a hard time with your own mental health and your husband Leon noticed and tried to make you feel better. "I'm Sad Again, Don't Tell My Boyfriend." - Billie Eilish (What Was I Made For)

Word Count: 3.6k (Unedited)

Ghosty's Notes: Hello beautiful people, I am back with another oneshot, i will admit this one is a little more personal to me and hits a little close to home as somebody who deals with these sorts of mental health issues, such as perfectionist, overthinking and guilt but i thought instead of trying to ignore it like i have been for a while that i would channel it into a oneshot.

!So Please Remember Your Mental Health Matters, Reach Out If You Need Help!

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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The last 6 months in the Kennedy household had been super busy from You and Leon buying your own place on the outskirts of town, it was an old gothic style house with a long tree lined driveway that lead to a beautiful manor, there was something so hauntingly beautiful about it was private and not to far out of town but not too close to the country just in the middle, Leon could have sworn the house was haunted with how cheap the price was, but the moment he saw your eyes light up when you first arrived to the showing, he knew this was the one.

It needed a little work and fixing up but that was a project you loved doing while Leon was at work, but he would send Chris over to help you or make sure you didn’t injury yourself on the job. Leon wanted his own bit of land that he could play around with Ace, you where happy to be out of your city apartment even though you loved it very much especially with the home Library Leon had built you last year for valentines day you both knew you needed a bigger space.

For the last couple of weeks you had been traveling for the new release of your books and going to signing and meetings fans, which was such a fun experience and just made you feel so lucky and blessed for the career you have as a writer and your amazing fans.

You were a little bummed Leon couldn’t join you this time since he couldn’t get the time off work but he promised he would be home to pick you up from the airport, giving you his special home delivery service where included him carrying you to the car and your bags, getting you your favourite drink and treat on the way home and of course getting take out for dinner.

Tonight, you were sitting in the living room on the couch, Oero sleeping and softy purring on your lap, Ace as asleep beside you, if you moved he would move with you. The house was quiet since Leon was out on a mission for the next couple of days so the house was quiet, you knew you should be writing tonight but you didn’t really have the energy to even get up from the couch. This had been happening the past of days these depressive episodes, you didn’t want to worry Leon because his mission needed his full attention.

You had gone to see your doctor when these episodes started and she changed your medication, you even told your therapist what going on and she gave you some tools such as things to do to distract yourself like maybe writing since your where an author, but right now the hobby that used to bring so much joy and happiness to your life now felt like a work and pressure that she didn’t need.

But you didn’t really feel a difference with either the medication or techniques, you knew your friends and family where seeing a difference in your mood but you reassured them with a smile not wanting them to worry. But when you were home alone like this, and you could hear the small voices you always pushed to the back of your head or tried to ignore.

Not good enough…

Useless at writing….

You won’t amount to anything…

Leon deserves a better wife….

You knew none of these words where true, but you couldn’t help but think about them or entertain the idea. Maybe Leon deserved better, maybe a wife that didn’t just write smut for a living, feeling tears start to gather in your eyes you pulled your knees to your chest as a soft sniffle left your lips, Oero hissed as first before settling beside you on the couch, Ace on the other seemed to know something was wrong and light pressed his wet nose into your cheek and tried to lick the tears from your face.

“Its okay Ace.” You tried to reassure him, but it was almost as if he could tell you where lying because he nuzzled up closely beside you and let out a huff, sometimes Ace reminded you of Leon when you didn’t tell him what was wrong at first, he would then wrap his arms around you and pull you close to him and then let out a sigh. You laid your head against his and let out soft sniffles as she let herself sink into her little whole, not realising how deep it was.

4 Days Later

You didn’t even realise the days had been going by, you had mostly been spending your time laying on the couch, your laptop was abandoned in your new library upstairs that will be constructed when Leon gets back because he wants to build you a new and bigger one, he even got you to send him Pinterest pictures and aesthetics so he can create something you will love. You hadn’t been answering your phone just laying on the couch in a blanket watching whatever pops up on the tv absentmindedly, you did feed and take care of Oero and Ace just because you didn’t have the energy didn’t mean your pets should suffer, you knew Ace could tell something was wrong, he brought over his most prized toy it was a toy rope, he always played with it with Leon when he was home, he would sleep with it too that is how much he loved it.

So, you were a little surprised when he grabbed the toy and brought it over to you and dropped it beside you on the couch. Your heart ached at the gesture knowing he was trying to make you feel better in his own way, you gave him a soft kiss on the head and opened the blanket for him, to which he happily got in and snuggled up next to you and gave your face a soft lick.

Later that day you stirred hearing the front door open and close, you felt Ace leave the couch growling deeply before it turned into happy barks as the person walked into the house, you could hear hushed whispers as heavy boots hitting the floor then the soft thud of a bag being placed on the ground then the coldish gloved hand touching your face. “Darling you awake.” Leon spoke softly as you felt him gently stroke your cheek, you nodded your head and slowly opened your eyes.

Leon gave you a small smile and leaned forward and softy kissed your cheek, but there was a worried look on his face. You turned over so you where fully facing him. “You okay?, Chris send me a message saying you where replying to his text or answering his calls, he wanted to drop off some supplies for your library yesterday.” He asks you in a soft tone as he keep stroking your cheek, you causing a lump to form in your throat, you knew you weren’t okay but didn’t want to worry him. “yeah I must have been busy writing.” You told him and he looked at you for a second before nodding his head seeming to believe you or at least you thought.

You replied with ‘just brainstorming’ before you locked your phone for the night, you ran your fingers through your hair and gently tugged as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes in frustration, you knew this was your job and that soon you would have to start thinking about your next book but what used to feel like a fun hobby to connect with people and share things now felt like a jail sentence of expectation of are people going to like it?, what if they don’t’ like certain characters or ways you write certain characters or if you try something new and nobody likes it, a lot of what if questions started flooring your mind and your reasoning went out of the window.

But later that night you were lying in bed the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, this was the first time you had slept in your own bed in the last 4 to 5 days, Leon was currently in the shower so there was only his bedside lamp, you had replied to Chris’s message apologising and making up a small lie about not answering either his messages or calls and that he could drop his things off tomorrow, to which he sent you a thumbs up.

But just as you where about to put your phone down a email caught your eyes it was from your best friend/ editor for your books. She was wondering when you would be starting on your next book and what would it be about, you knew the message was harmless but the peace you had felt since Leon came home seem to vanish and it felt as if a weight had been put back on your shoulders.

You were so deep in your head you didn’t even hear or notice Leon had come out of the shower and was now putting on some sweatpants then coming over to the bed, you only noticed him when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pull you towards his chest and he placed a kiss on your shoulder. “its okay sweetheart you can talk to me.” Leon encourages you softly and that was when your walls crumpled, and you started crying in his arms.

“I don’t know what I am doing anymore.” You cried into his arms as he gently rubbed your back and placed soft kisses on your forehead. “Its okay, I got you.” Leon said gently against your forehead as his other hand was gently rubbing the back of your neck knowing it helps calm you down. “I feel like I am failing, I’m a terrible writer and wife, I can’t do anything right and even when i try i just mess things up.” You sobbed at your words you felt Leon’s hand stop before he pulled back slightly so he could look into your eyes.

“never and I mean never say that again you hear me, you’re an amazing writer Y/n it takes a lot of talent to write even a paragraph, and you can write thousands of words a day, just because it’s not getting 1000s of like a day like some other writers doesn’t mean your work is any lesser then theirs, you just need to find your group, your people that love your work because they either connect with you or with what you have written.” He says as he reaches up and gently wipes your cheek with his thumb a small smile on his lips. “as for being my wife, sweetheart you are the heart of this home I brought you this house, but you made it a home for us, you gave me the space for me to fix my motorbikes and have my own personal gym, I love you so much that it hurts me to see you like this, but I don’t want to spend my life with anybody else that isn’t you.” Leon says before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“but all I do is sit at home and write smut about characters based off our sex life all day.” You tried to weakly protest, but Leon just smiled and put your head against his chest and started playing with your hair. “as long its not about somebody else and it makes you happy then I’m happy.” Leon says causing a small smile to come onto your cheeks.

“how do you always know what to say.” You asked him as you turned your head to look up at him, he had a small smile on his lips before he his face went serious. “because I have been where you are mentally, the doubt, the expection you put on yourself which causes anxiety, depression, it’s a dangerous slope without the right support that if you fall to deep then it could be game over." He says before his eyes softened and he started to trace random shapes on uoir back with his thumb.

"it was because of you helping & guiding me that I was able to find my way back and try and become a better man and not try and not try find solutions at the bottom of bottle.” Leon says as he looks at you his blue eyes sparked with a small hint of guilt for what he had put you through, from having to pick him up from bar’s across town and drag him home, or having to hold his hair back as he vomited into a toliet at 4am when he finally stumbled home smelling like a brewery.

"Some day you will have great days, bad days and then just days where you just exist and that is okay, nobody is perfect and we all have our own struggles in life, but it's better to speak about it rather then bottle it up." Leon says with a soft hum, but his words caused you to look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"When did you get so....wise?" you asked him but there was a small smile on your lips. "Instead of drinking I've been reading in my spare time while on missions." He says with a small embrassed blush slightly coloring his cheeks, you smiled and leaned up and kissed him.

The following morning.

“I love you.” You whispered softly, he smiled against your lips and kissed you back before pulling away slightly. “I love you too honey." He said as he pulled you closer and let out a soft breath as he rested his cheek on top of your head.

"You want a blowjob?" You asked him and all Leon did was chuckle. "I'm trying to be a supportive husband and you are being a little pervert." Leon says causing you to playfully roll your eyes. "It's been a while." You tried to argue but soon Leon was pulling you closer and his eyes where closed.

"Yes it has been a while, but not tonight and your not in the right headspace." Leon says before you could protest, you wanted to argue but you knew he was right so you settled down next to him and closed your eyes falling into a light sleep.

You had been working on a small paragraph, you where taking Leon’s advice and taking it slow and one day at a time and not pressuring yourself to write and trying to find the passion that you once had for the hobby, your doctor changed your medication again and this time you felt better, not so weighted down and the small voices in your head seemed to have stop for now, you knew some of the reason the voices stopped was because Leon was home and he could always reassure you vs when he is away on a mission, but you tried to not think about that as you tapped on your keyboard.

currently you were sitting cross legged on a bench press as Leon worked out in his gym, he had wanted to start getting into shape but didn’t want to go to the gym, glancing up from your screen you saw Leon pulling himself up on some bars causing his back muscles to bulge out slightly, you found yourself biting your lip as your eyes trailed down his body not even being subtle about it, his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips and threatened to slip off any second.

“Enjoying the show, why don’t you join me?.” Leon comments causing a blush to colour your cheeks as he looked at you through the mirror, you just smiled and closed your laptop before setting it to the side. “tempting offer but I’m getting enough cardio in just by watching you.” You said with a smile as you got off the bench press and walked over to him.

Leon dropped down from the bar with a soft thud as his feet hit the ground, only he could make looking sweaty sexy. “I could think of another way for you to get your cardio in.” Leon suggests with an innocent smirk, but you knew these was nothing innocent about his expression.

“Oh, and what do you suggest?” you ask him before you are backed up against the mirror, your inches apart you looked up at him through your lashes as you bit your bottom lip, you could feel the cold temperature of the glass even though Leon’s shirt you where wearing but you didn’t find in fact you welcomed it because it help with the rising temperature of your own body.

Leon began to open his button up shirt you where wearing only to see you wearing a bralette and panties underneath, you heard him softy groan and curse under his breath because it was his favourite set, It was a simple black lace bralette and panties combo, it was mesh and see through with small floral designs sewn in gold thread, it was one of your favourite because of how comfortable it was.

“you beautiful darling.” Leon purrs softly against your neck as his hands gently gripped your waist and pulls you closer to him. “Your too sweet.” You softly whisper and Leon just chuckled before he captured your lips in a soft kiss, but soon turned into something hungrier and more desperate as you wrapped your arms around his neck, as he hooked his hands under your thighs and picked you up with ease.

Soon you started to grind your hips against his as you could feel his bulge pressing against you. “You know what mirrors are good for sweetheart?” Leon asked with a groan against your lips, you shook your head and let out a soft whine as he broke the kiss.

“watching you cum.” Leon spoke in your ear causing a soft gasp to leave your lips as you looked at him blushing but your bottom lip was between your teeth, to which he captured your lips in another kiss but this time it was slower and more sensual as if he taking his time to taste every inch of your mouth.

When he pulled away from the kiss you started to kiss, suckle and bite his neck leaving little marks. ”gods look at you darling, breathless, flushed and so beautiful.” Leon spoke as he gently pulled you away from his neck and ran his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Please Leon.” You whined softly as you looked at him, you wanted him no you needed him either inside you or his fingers. “we don’t have condoms in here.” Leon says looking up at you wanted to groan before you looked at him.

“you could always pull out.” You suggested and in that moment you swear you saw Leon’s pupils dilate and get slightly bigger. Soon Leon is pushing down his sweats with your legs still around his waist, his shirt you where wearing was now open, and your bralette was pushed up exposing your hard perky nipples and your panties where pulled to the side.

“You ready?” Leon asked his face was flushed as yours was as well, you tightened your legs around his waist and let out a soft gasp as you felt him gently tapping the tip of his cock on the quivering entrance of your slick folds. “Yes.” You says nodding your head as you rested your head on his shoulder.

When he finally pushed inside you couldn’t help but whimper and arch your back as he took him inch by inch as he rolled his hips, almost hitting your sweet spot with each roll of his hips. “fuck you feel so good.” He gritted his teeth groaning softly as he finally bottomed out. You had to keep your eyes from rolling back, gently tugging his head down you captured his lips in a kiss that was nearly all teeth and passion.

“Harder.” You whispered against his lips as your fingers went into his hair and softly tugged causing a strand moan to leave his lips. He didn’t need to be told twice and soon he started moving his hips rougher but hungrily as if it wasn’t him that just craved your touch but also his body.

“Oh god Leon.” You cried out as your nails dug into his shoulders, you could hear how wet you were and felt it running down your thighs with each of Leon’s thrusts, his rhythm was angled so he would hit your sweet spot with each thrust, it was enough to make you see stars as your orgasm was fast approaching.

You knew Leon wasn’t too far behind as the hand that was on your ass helping stabilize you tightened, you knew you would have a bruise there later but when you felt his teeth sink into your neck you lost it and came with a loud hitch pitch cry of his name as your back arched and your eyes rolled back, he soon followed with a grunt as his hips stilled and you felt him fill you up.

It took a couple of minutes for your breaths to calm down, Leon pulled out with a soft hiss leaving you feeling empty as his come started to run down your thighs. “did you forget to pull out.” You asked him with an amused smile as you looked at him, to which he gave you a boyish grin that melted your heart.

“sorry but you got to admit you look fucking sexy like this.” Leon commented as he spread your butt cheeks slightly to watch his come drip out of you, playfully rolling your eyes as you grabbed his shirt you had been wearing. “I’m gonna go and shower, since Chris is dropping somethings over.” You says putting on the shirt, but Leon pushed it up slightly and before you could ask him what he was doing you felt his tongue between your legs.

“Wait I’m too sensitive.” You gently protested trying to push him away, but he just grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together as he licked and sucked your folds, you mewed softly and bit your lip as your eyes fluttered closed.

But thankfully he pulled away after a few minutes and to your surprised he kissed you and used his tounge to push the come into your mouth causing you to go wide eyed ad you tasted your combined juices, you swallowed and looked at his playful grin. “we better shower Chris will be here soon with paint.” Leon says nonchalantly as if he didn’t just feed you his come in a kiss.

You nodded your head and followed behind him, thinking your husband may seem stoic but underneath that make he was a little pervert....

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

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agirlwithglam · 10 months ago

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how to stop being so obsessed with them.

heyyy bestieees! heres a few tips to stop you from being so obsessed with them cus honeyyy its just not worth it. it doesn't just have to be romantically btw!

"she's literally perfect.. like how??" <- affirmations!

༄ ✬ move on! ༄ ✬

numero uno. move on. okay hear me out! there are 8 billion people in the world. (8 billion freeky deeking people). do yk how much that it? a lot of 0s. and i know for a fact that SO MANY of them would be thrilled to know you, to spend time with you, to love and respect you! if that 1 person out of 8 billion people doesn't seem to recognise your worth, so what?!

"oh but they're perfect and i just love them so much!" ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.... sorry, what do you love again? the fact that they don't care enough to return a text, treat you right, make you feel loved?

"i just want them to love me back and treat me the way they treat others because they are so funny and always seem to make me and other people laugh!" oh ma lawd. ur not serious r u? you are?! okokok i won't make fun of you. i can relate to how that feels. but sweetheart, 8 billion. trust me, you'll find a lot more people who are twice as funnier and caring who will love you to the moon and back and make you feel like the most specialist person ever and massage ur crusty musty toes. jk about the last one- unless u want that?

༄ ✬ not everyone will know your worth. ༄ ✬

so asking questions like "but why can't they realise how great i am? or how funny i am? or how loving i am? i would do anything for them, why can't they realise that and treat me the same way back?" im sorry honey but the world doesn't work that way. if someone doesn't feel or treat you as if you're the most glamorous girl in the world, then you need to stop giving them sm energy and importance.

heres an analogy that i got from simonesquared on youtube: in gilmore girls, Rory has this super rich boyfriend Logan right? (who has the most cutest smile ever i might add) and he buys Rory a birkin bag. now to Rory, she doesn't realise the value of a bag like that! to her, its just another bag. she's grateful of course, but she doesn't fully realise the immense value this type of bag has.

༄ ✬ have a life outside of them.༄ ✬

lemme repeat that. have. a. fleeping. life. outside. of. them. they should NOT be the center of your life or the cause of all your actions NUH UH ABSOLUTELY NOT! its okay to do SOME things with the thought of them, but that part is separate from the rest of your life. your life is your life, not theirs!!

this can mean going to the gym, working out, finding new hobbies, educating yourself, self care, etc etc! but don't go about your life, thinking about them. you go about your life thinking about YOU.

༄ ✬ stop chasing them. ༄ ✬

"gee, thanks vanilla. thats so helpful! how did i not think about that earlier?" im assuming thats sarcasm, but whateverr. okay so if they know that you're chasing them, that you're obsessed with them, yk what they'll think? they'll think that 'oh! this person is chasing me, so she really wants me. so she'll stick around. i dont really need to try too hard to keep her cus i know she'll stay. i'll explore my options in the meantime :)'

GIRL do not so available like this! BE BUSY (which relates to the point before). once you glow up, work on your life, not taking it so seriously, and just being happy and enjoying this beautiful gift of life, they will start to think: 'oh! this person (you) is actually quite fabulous. i better try to make her feel happy/ be friends with her before i miss this awesome opportunity!'

cus girl, cmon, you've got things to do, places to be, and people to talk to. i've got goals and dreams and my bucket list. you don't have the time to sit here and be crazy obsessed. so like, if they just leave, um okay and? "yes, and?" what about it? am i meant to be bothered? likerrr okay, byee? i mean, i've got a lot of things to do so i could try to fit in a "help i need you" session between my pilates class and my cooking class? jk <3

༄ ✬ give yourself the damn love. ༄ ✬

why are you obsessed with them? why are you head over heels for somebody who literally couldn't care less? its because they have something that you feel like you're lacking.

is it the fact that they always seem so happy and laughing-y with people around them? that they get super high marks on their test? they are attractive? they have a high status? money? what is it?? often, we can actually give these things to ourselves. some, easier than others. but not impossible. if you really wanted to, you would get up, dust yourself up, and give yourself the love you crave. What you want in others, give to yourself first.

More resources:

How to stop comparing yourself & feel fulfilled without needing external validation.

Thewizardliz: becoming selfish was the best thing i did

Lumma Aziz’s videos

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doeidawn · 4 months ago

Text

doeidawn's kinkmas day four ❆ mutual masturbation

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

instating a "no closed doors" rule in your apartment comes with an exciting consequence. 2.3k

❆ pairing: roommate!ghost x fem!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; simon's a little bitchy; slight exhibitionism(?); interrupted masturbation; handjob; fingering

So maybe you were being a bit of an asshole about the new rule in the apartment. But, in your own defense, you didn’t want to pay more for the heat if you didn’t have to. Sure, Simon probably could’ve covered it—you recall him offering to pay the increase last time you nagged him. But the best outcome would be the one where no one pays more, right?

So, yes, you were a kind of an asshole about keeping the doors open in the apartment once it started to get colder. All rooms (excluding the bathroom when occupied) were to be kept open at all times. An even, warm air flow meant everything was nice and comfortable all of the time. There was no hoarding heat in this apartment.

Simon was not a fan of this rule. And you knew he wouldn’t be when you were gathering the courage to tell him for the first time. He was a fine roommate, but one who needed privacy. He had to be alone and keep to himself every now and again. You weren’t sure if it had to do with that job he was so secretive about or if he was just…a little strange. Maybe it was a little of both.

Either way, the new rule implementation caused its fair share of arguments. You’d walk down the hall to see the door to his room shut, then roll your eyes and huff before banging on the door until he opened it. And every time you were met with the same annoyed stare.

If you don’t want me pounding on the door, keep it open. You must’ve told him it a dozen times by this point.

But he slowly started to learn. Slowly. Eventually he broke the habit of shutting the door behind him. As the days went on, there were less doors left for you to either open yourself or bang on until he opened it for you.

Including today, when you look down the hall to notice his bedroom door ajar. There’s a sigh of relief from your mouth. Thank God. But it’s not until you start on your way to your own room that you hear…something coming from within his.

It sounds like Simon, a deep sound, something gruff and strained. You think you hear him curse before there’s a rumbling groan. At first, you wonder if he might be hurt. The guy was so secretive about his work and hobbies, coming back with bruises and scars you could only imagine the source of, so it would be no surprise if he was hurt and trying to hide it.

You tiptoe over to his doorway. Standing outside for a moment, you listen in and hear another whispered curse. There’s a wet sound accompanying his gruff noises, a rhythmic slap that makes your face hot when you realize the source of it. Curiosity gets the better of you. He’s the one with his door wide open, you pitifully excuse in your head as you peer past the propped open door.

Simon’s laying on his bed in the dim room, one hand wrapped around his thick cock and pumping lazily. There’s a sheen of spit or lube or something wet that glistens in the light from the hallway, no doubt the culprit of that lewd, wet sound you hear. Another deep rumble of pleasure from his chest almost has you clenching your thighs together, especially when his hips rise off the mattress to buck into his own hand.

Out of all the details you notice that you’re sure you’ll never forget, you fail to see your shadow cast over his reclined body. The very thing that alerted him to your presence, and your peeping.

“‘s not polite to stare,” he grumbles. You almost don’t comprehend that he’s talking to you at first.

When his heavy eyes look your way, you finally avert your gaze. Looking at his door like it had become the most fascinating thing in the world, you clear your throat. “D’you, uh…want me to shut the door?”

“Oh, well, I would’ve already,” a squelch from the wetness in his hand tells you he’s still stroking himself while he talks, “but then you’d yell at me. Thought I’d do you a favor n’ keep it open.”

“Y-you don’t have to…not while you’re—”

“Y’gonna keep standin’ there or are you gonna c’mere and join me?”

What? It takes all of your willpower to focus on his eyes when you look back at him, the steady movement of his hand visible in your periphery. “W-what?”

“Well, any other roommate would’ve slammed the door shut n’ left already, don’t you think?”

Your mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water, a myriad of excuses sitting on the tip of your tongue. But none of them manage to stumble out. He was right, someone less interested probably would’ve walked away already. Would he even believe you if you came up with an excuse? Probably not. Was the smartest move to just walk away? Probably.

But you’d be damned before you throw away the opportunity presenting itself. So, against all better judgement, you shuffle into his room with a sigh. No need to shut the door for privacy, you remind yourself.

You watch Simon shift on his bed, his hand stilling on his cock long enough to motion for you. “Atta girl. C’mere.”

Your legs feel unsteady as you crawl onto the open spot next to him on his bed. The way his eyes rake over you make you feel exposed despite being the one still fully clothed. A chill runs through you that no amount of heat in the room would quell.

“So,” you start, trying to ignore the awkwardness that made your voice waver. “D’you want me to…” You gesture towards his crotch and can’t help but stare at the way his wrist twists on every upstroke.

“I mean, if you’re offerin’...” He holds his hands in the air in a mock-surrender, as if giving himself over to you. “But only if I can return the favor.”

Your face runs hot imagining his hands on your body in response to your touch. You hadn’t even felt him yet and you already knew you wanted to make him cum, wanted to be the reason he moaned and whined. With no reason to deny him, you settle against the mattress with a sigh and run a hand down his hip.

There was no need to tease or work him up; he’d already done most of the work for you. Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock and glide up, aided with what you think is lube already coating his flesh. The deep rumbling moan that comes from his chest is complimented by the way he throbs against your hand.

“That’s it…” Simon encourages you with his fingers splayed on your thigh. His other hand rests atop yours, dwarfing yours as he shows you how fast to pump his cock. “There you go, stroke it just like that.”

He was much more vocal once it was your hand on him. Whether because it was a foreign touch or because your hand had to be so much softer than his, you weren’t sure. Either way, he was mumbling curses and encouragement between every other moan you drew from him. To say it boosted your ego was an understatement, but it also had you so unbearably hot you had to squeeze your thighs together to ease the throbbing ache between them.

He must’ve noticed the tension in your body, because the hand on your thigh slides up to tug on your clothes. Too impatient and horny to refuse, you aid him in removing all the fabric below your waist, exposing your own body just as much as he had.

Simon groans when your legs spread, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth. He wastes no time seeking out your cunt, thick fingers spreading you apart and running through your slick. “Always wondered what you looked like,” he mutters. “Even prettier than I imagined.”

You couldn’t dwell on the implications of that right now. You can’t think straight long enough to process anything aside from the feel of two of his fingers teasing your hole. Your lack of objection and the incessant twitch of your hips gives him all the confirmation he needs.

In a quick movement that takes your breath away, he pushes those two fingers in, spearing deep inside your cunt. Your hand tightens around his cock in unintentional reflex, and the new grip nearly makes him choke on his moan. The hand lazily covering yours squeezes tight to encourage your rougher grasp as you stroke him in time with the pump of his fingers in your cunt.

“Shit, you’re so tight…bet you’d be even tighter ‘round my dick,” he mutters with his jaw set tight.

You mimic his earlier movements, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, watching his hips lift to chase the sensation of your hand. “Mm, you’d stretch me so good with this cock, Simon. I bet you’d fill me perfectly.”

“Fuck, yes. I’d fill you so good, baby. Make you cum on my cock ‘til you’re screamin’.”

His fingers curl in a movement that makes you keen, pressing just right to make your cunt flutter around his digits. Your thighs tense, clamping around his arm instinctively. You don’t want it to stop, but the sudden shockwaves of pleasure surprise your body. Your hips rock into his hand as silent encouragement.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” His voice bites as he teases you. “Like thinkin’ about me splittin’ you open and fuckin’ you?” All you can offer in response is a pathetic nod of your head and a soft ‘mm-hmm’. “Fuck, me too. I think about you all the time, y’know. ‘bout bendin’ you over the counter n’ fuckin’ you stupid. Or wonderin’ how pretty you’d look bouncin’ on my cock.”

You can’t hide the way you cunt tightens around his fingers at his confession. Your mind runs wild conjuring up images as he explains his fantasies. It’s dirty and depraved, but, God help you, it’s everything you could ever want from him.

“Christ, I wish you would,” you whine. “Wish you would just bend me over and fuck me.”

“Yeah? You’d let me?” Simon groans when your hand speeds up in response. “This pussy would take me so good, wouldn’t it? All wet and ready for my cock…”

His fingers slide out, ignore your protesting whine to spread you open. He pats your swollen clit with two firm strikes; not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you yelp and jerk your hips. Then he’s sinking his fingers right back into you, giving you no time to savor it before pumping them in and out, aligning the pace of his hand with yours.

Pressure starts to build in your core, hot and tense, mounting with each thrust of his fingers. “Hah, Si…” You don’t mean to moan his name, but it feels so right on your tongue.

“Gonna cum, aren’t you? Fuck, you’re squeezin’ my hand, baby…”

Your grip on his starts to falter, all of your attention focused on the unrelenting pleasure between your legs. “Si, please, fuck—”

“Don’t stop, I’m right there with you. Wanna cum with you.” The hand covering yours grips you tight, guiding your hand firmly around his cock. His hips lift to meet the difference, fucking into your palm as you languidly stroke. “There you go, make me cum. Make me cum while I fuck this pretty cunt.”

His fingers hit deep, brushing against that spot up top on the downstroke. He hits it over and over, each time forcing a moan from your lips. It only takes a few more of his focused thrusts to make you cum, gripping his digits tight as your slick floods his hand in sticky gushes.

Your hand must tighten around him as the rest of your body tenses. His words quickly turn to incoherent moans and grunts as he uses the last of his energy to fuck your hand. You look over just in time with your heavy to see his cock jerk in your hand before spilling his cum over your fingers. He pays no mind to the few drops that land on his stomach, only concerned about the sight of your small hand painted white.

You both lay there for a moment, panting as you give your cum-covered hands a break. There’s a million questions running through your head as soon as the fog of lust clears. You didn’t have the energy to worry about most of them right now.

Except one. “Do you really think about me when you get off?”

Simon laughs at that, almost like he can’t believe you’re asking him. “Yeah. Most of the time.” You must give him an incredulous look, because he shrugs his shoulders once his eyes meet yours. “I’m a simple man with a hot roommate. I dunno what you expect.”

Your fingers brush over his cock in one last teasing stroke before you pull your hand away. He’s not as eager to seperate so soon, deciding to leave his hand on your thigh as you sit up. “I expect a man like you to be brave enough to ask me for sex instead of resorting to your hand.”

“Well, we’re halfway there. A’least it was your hand this time.” You roll your eyes at that. “Alright. Keep your door open next time you think about me. Maybe then you’ll get your expectations met.”You didn’t say it out loud, but you wanted to shout ‘deal!’ and make sure he kept up his end of the bargain. But you didn’t have to wonder—you were sure he’d take full advantage of the “open doors” rule. In fact, he might be an even bigger advocate for it than you are now.

#doeidawn's kinkmas #clown writes #ghost cod #cod smut #cod x reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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