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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 7

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

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

Bucky’s gut had been gnawing at him for weeks, a familiar, nagging feeling whenever Ian was around. Something about the man didn’t sit right, and Bucky couldn’t shake the sense that he’d seen this behavior before. His instincts kicked in, and he ordered someone to dig deeper into Ian’s past.

The brown envelope arrived the next day. Bucky sat at his desk, his eyes narrowing as he tore it open. Inside were the results of the investigation—pages that painted a much darker picture than he’d anticipated. As he skimmed the documents, his jaw clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips, “Shit.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, you and Bucky arrived at a shelter for single mothers, a stop on the campaign trail. The women inside had experienced hardships most people couldn’t imagine, fleeing from abusive partners and trying to rebuild their lives. Their stories of survival hung in the air, unspoken but palpable in their tired eyes and wary smiles.

You moved through the room, serving food and making small talk with the women, trying your best to offer some comfort. As you handed a plate to one woman, you said softly, “I understand what kind of psychological torment you’ve been through. I hope you stay strong.”

The moment the words left your mouth, what you’d meant as a word of encouragement didn’t land the way you’d hoped.

Later that night, a video of the conversation went viral. It was clear someone had recorded the interaction and released it online. Bucky knew this had to be the work of his opponents, seizing the opportunity to discredit you—and by extension, him.

You watched the video, feeling a pit form in your stomach as the comments poured in:

"Stay strong? She doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever been through what we have."

"She wouldn’t understand. She lives in a happy home. How could she possibly know what it’s like to run from someone who’s supposed to love you?"

Their words cut deep, slicing through your carefully constructed image. They didn’t know the truth—that your marriage to Bucky was its own kind of prison. Pretending to be the perfect wife had taken a toll on you, but no one saw behind the curtain.

You froze, feeling exposed, as if they’d somehow sensed the cracks in your façade. You had become so good at lying, at convincing the world that you and Bucky were happy, that now, faced with these women who had lived through real pain, you felt like a fraud.

Furthermore, you wanted to tell them that you understood, that you too had felt trapped and powerless. But the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you smiled for the cameras, playing your part, knowing that your life was being documented as an example of “happiness.”

Then your eyes landed on a comment that sent you reeling:

"If they’re so happy, wouldn’t they have a kid by now?"

The question hung in the air, mocking you. They didn’t know the truth—how could they? And yet, their words seemed to pierce through the mask you’d been wearing for so long.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The silence between you and Bucky was heavy, almost suffocating. You hadn’t said much since the shelter incident, and Bucky could sense your stress in the way you barely touched your food or drank any water. You sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched plate in front of you.

Bucky watched you for a moment before stepping closer, his brow furrowing with concern. He gently touched your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin.

“You have a fever,” he said, his voice low with worry.

You immediately pulled away from his hand, your body instinctively recoiling. Your stress had a way of manifesting physically, and whenever you were overwhelmed, your body shut down. This was no different.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice hollow.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew this would happen, knew how your body responded when you were pushed too far. Without a word, he slipped his arm around you, supporting you as he guided you toward your room. You didn’t resist, too tired to fight.

“Just leave,” you said once you reached your room, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Bucky ignored your words. He sat you down on the edge of the bed, gently lifting your feet into his lap. You stiffened in surprise as his hands began to massage your aching feet. The familiarity of the gesture caught you off guard—he used to do this all the time when you were together, especially on nights when you came home exhausted, too tired to even think.

Your face grew warmer, though not just because of the fever. The tension between the two of you was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words hanging in the air. Bucky’s touch, once comforting, now felt like it held the weight of all the things left unsaid.

“I’ll bring the medicine,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer now.

You didn’t respond, too lost in the swirl of emotions flooding your mind. The way his hands moved, the care in his touch—it was all too familiar. It made your chest tighten with memories of when things weren’t this complicated.

As Bucky stood to leave, you finally spoke, your voice quiet and raw. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused, turning back to face you. “Because I care. I always do” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the walls you’d built between you both cracked, if only just a little.

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day and the fever pulled at you. Bucky noticed, his eyes softening. Without another word, he pulled the blanket over you and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You lay there, your mind racing despite your body’s exhaustion. His touch, his words, they lingered long after he’d gone. You hated that he still had this effect on you. And yet, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him, wanted to let your guard down. But after everything, how could you?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You woke up, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to your limbs, but something was different. The fever that had clouded your mind the night before was gone, leaving you with a sense of relief. Slowly, you sat up, glancing around the room. Bucky wasn’t here. It was the first time you’d been alone in the apartment since arriving.

The quietness felt strange, almost eerie. For a moment, you simply sat there, trying to shake the grogginess from your mind. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to explore the space. The apartment was large, meticulously designed, but there was a personal touch to it that reflected both of you. You wandered through the rooms until you stopped at his office.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. His office was a mess—papers and law books were scattered across the desk and shelves, as if he’d been too busy to organize anything. But something caught your eye, an area that was surprisingly tidy amidst the chaos: his vinyl collection. It was neatly arranged, displayed with care, each record in perfect order.

Bucky loved collecting vinyls. You remembered that about him. As you approached the collection, your eyes scanned the spines of the records. Most of them were from artists both of you used to listen to. Your fingers grazed over the albums, a nostalgic pang in your chest.

Then, something unusual caught your attention. Tucked between the vinyl sleeves was a piece of paper, slightly worn. Frowning, you pulled it out and realized it wasn’t just any paper—it was a letter.

You stared at the handwriting, your heart skipping a beat. It was Bucky’s handwriting. Slowly, your eyes widened as recognition dawned on you. It was a letter he never sent. A letter to you.

Your pulse quickened as a rush of emotions hit you. Should you open it? Guilt twisted in your stomach, but then that familiar voice—the devil on your shoulder—spoke louder. He wrote this for you. He never sent it, but it’s yours.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you quickly hid the letter under your shirt, glancing around the office as if someone might walk in at any moment. Your heart raced as you hurried back to your room, the letter burning against your skin like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat on the bed, staring at the letter in your hands. The room felt smaller, your breaths shallow. Was this right? Should you be reading this? But you couldn’t stop yourself.

With trembling fingers, you opened the first letter.

It was short, written in Bucky’s familiar scrawl.

"I’m sorry. I know everything we went through must have been painful for you, more than I ever realized at the time. We were close, but we never truly communicated. I knew you were hurting, and I did nothing to stop it. That’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.

One day, if we ever meet again, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck in finding it, even if it’s not with me."

You blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. An apology. Words you thought you’d never hear—or read—from him. Your hands shook as you carefully unfolded another letter.

"I read your article. It’s really good. I always knew you’d make a great writer. You’ve always had a way with words. I’m proud of you. I hope you have a safe journey."

The words blurred for a moment as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You never knew he was following your work, that he cared enough to read what you wrote. It felt like a secret window into a part of him you thought had closed off to you long ago.

With a deep breath, you opened the final letter, bracing yourself.

"I’m worried about you. Going to a war zone as a journalist—it’s dangerous, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I pray every day that you’re safe."

Your chest tightened as you finished reading, the rawness of his words washing over you. Bucky had been worried about you all this time. His concern, his pride—it was all there, hidden in these letters you were never supposed to find. And yet, here you were, holding the pieces of his heart in your hands.

It was overwhelming. You didn’t know how to feel—angry, confused, touched. All you knew was that the walls you had built to protect yourself were starting to crack, and you weren’t sure if you could put them back together.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You and Bucky met Greg again to prepare before heading to the TV station for the debate. Greg, always thinking ahead, was pacing as he went over the final details. His sharp gaze darted between you and Bucky, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly.

As the minutes ticked by, Greg suddenly paused, his face lighting up with an idea. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before Bucky heads out for the debate, you could give him a peck on the cheek. You know, for the cameras. A little show of affection can go a long way."

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, your expression neutral. "Okay," you agreed simply. The decision seemed easy enough—just a small gesture for the public eye. However, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky’s brow arch slightly, a glint of surprise crossing his features.

Bucky glanced at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "How about a kiss on the lips instead?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your exasperation. "Shut up," you muttered, though the warmth of the moment lingered between you. Bucky chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the brief banter as Greg scribbled down notes, already planning how to work this into the media strategy.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The day of the debate finally arrived. The room buzzed with tension as cameras were positioned, reporters whispered amongst themselves, and the stage was set. You stood backstage with Bucky, watching as the other candidates made their entrances. Edgar, running for president, was calm and composed, the very image of a seasoned politician.

Then there was Brock, another candidate for vice president—and Bucky’s long-time rival. The two had been at odds for years, their competition fierce and personal. The air between them crackled with animosity as they took their places.

As the debate began, the moderators threw sharp, pointed questions at the candidates, each probing their policies and character. Bucky was in his element, answering each question with practiced ease. His words were clear, his tone confident, and his delivery flawless. Every question thrown at him was met with a precise, well-thought-out response.

Moderator: "Mr. Barnes, what would be your first priority in office?"

Bucky: "My first priority is to address healthcare. Ensuring affordable and accessible healthcare is the cornerstone of a strong nation. We must invest in preventive care and make it easier for families to access the support they need."

The audience nodded in agreement, and even the other candidates seemed to respect his answer. Brock, however, was struggling. Every time he tried to match Bucky’s eloquence, he stumbled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to make a point.

Moderator: "Mr. Rumlow, what is your stance on education reform?"

Brock: "Well, uh, we need to… to invest in schools, yes, but we can’t just throw money at the problem. We need accountability, and we need… um, better results."

His answer lacked the conviction and clarity that Bucky’s did, and you could see the frustration in Brock’s face as the debate went on.

The tension between the two men simmered, especially as Bucky continued to outshine him with every answer. But just when it seemed like Bucky had the upper hand, Brock saw an opening—and took it.

At the height of the debate, Brock's voice cut through the air, sharp and malicious. "You talk a lot about honesty and integrity, Barnes. But what about your brother? Didn’t he hit someone and never face any punishment?"

The room fell silent, a heavy, uncomfortable stillness filling the space. From your spot backstage, you could feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves. His muscles tensed beside you, his jaw clenched tight. This was his darkest family secret, one he’d hoped to keep buried. But now, here it was, dragged into the spotlight in front of a national audience.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he shot Brock a cold, hard glare. For a moment, it looked like Bucky might lose his composure. The silence stretched on, the entire room holding its breath, waiting for his response.

But then, with a deep breath, Bucky straightened, his voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "My brother's actions were reprehensible, and there is no excuse for them. But unlike my opponent, I believe in accountability—and my family has taken steps to address that privately. This debate is about the future of this country, not digging up personal attacks to avoid talking about real issues."

The room shifted as Bucky’s calm yet pointed response cut through the tension. Brock, visibly thrown by how easily Bucky had deflected his attack, fumbled for his next words, but the damage had been done. Bucky had taken control once again, leaving Brock at a loss.

Backstage, you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within you. Bucky had handled the moment with grace.

But you knew you couldn’t rest. With Shawn’s dark secret now exposed, it meant that your marriage to Bucky could be the next scandal to surface.

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boydepartment · 1 year ago

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@ iluvmygf - nishimura riki x fem!reader

description: nishimura riki is a headache to his managers. as much as he loves being an idol and as much as he loves that he gets the freedom to travel. he hates that he can’t show you off. publicly… as himself… so he makes a twitter account called @ iluvmygf at first not a lot of people follow it. it goes unnoticed, for a few weeks. until it doesn’t. his account about you goes viral… and people are nosy as to who loves their gf so much to constantly post about her.

genre: romcom, crack, humor, something fun and lighthearted like a hallmark movie. it’s also set from november-february bc i said so and i want a christmas ark 😋🫶 this is an smau

warnings: cursing, most likely crude humor, probably kms jokes

START DATE: november 11th. 23

profiles: ur an idiot x 7 // non twitter users losers

teaser

ch. 1… you have an account abt me?

ch. 2… she ate shit :/

ch. 3… i miss my gf

ch. 4… OMG GUYS IM VIRAL 😁

ch. 5… oh im viral 😨

ch. 6... so, i am viral... do you still love me? (written)

ch. 7... doofus

ch. 8... SOMEONE CALL MR BIG HIT

ch. 9... pls come over

ch. 10... WTF EXPOSED AS TWT USER ?

EPILOGUE

extra- ????

taglist- closed the end

@yourmomscuntis2tighy @yannew @wzy3ka @stellarpsh @czlluvriki @im-yn-suckers @owotalks @filmofhybe @skepvids @ocyeanicc @amymyli @imsodazed @rikislady @j-wyoung @bangchansbangers @sassyfanlawyergarden @miko1ly @itsactuallylina @haewonluvr @entenen @cb97mylove @jxp1-t3r @ineedaherosavemeenow @str4wb3rizz @beomgyusonlywife @jiaant11 @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams @enhaz1 @mrchweeee @stryroses @riziwon @cholexc @soobiverse @tzuyusluv @hayleyrkbee @softiehee @captivq @yla-aira @svarcq @s00buwu @rodygr @ikeu4life @faraonatojishady @ohsjy @bts-iris @wqsty @en-gene2 @mrowwww @eumppattv @junsflow @ilurvriki @bunchofroses07 @ariadores @luvkpopp @asherthehimbo @realrintaro @myjaeyunn @gweoriz @renchai @hanniemylovelyquokka @samvagejkflxhrt @ashy1um @darly6n @beomluvrr @jongseongslvr @nochuwastaken @ally2trappyy @roseyrays @heartsforhyunjin @sakiimeo @darlingz99 @surefornext @fertilizedtoesw @1lovestrawberrymilk @won-der5 @moviestar2316 @ahnneyong @nyfwyeonjun @imsodazed @addictedtohobi @luvvsnae @thesassy-mia @i-hwa @fluerz @elissasimp @xoxo-jeans @ionlyreadforfanfics @iluvkyo @fluerz @jvnscls @ariadores @hoondiors @perrywinklefairy @ye0nvibezzn @woozixo @minskzy @vernonburger @lovrqis @catwalkerluv @armydrcamers @wooziswife @renee1414 @star-yawnznn @riksaes @coastinglove @myjaeyuns @littlestxli @haechansbbg @istphanie @binluvsu @sol3chu @d-dilemma @en-dream @ffixtionista

comment, dm, send an ask, or reblog to be added :) i try to keep up with tag lists however i get a ton of notifications everyday so please lmk if i forget you

PLEASE only ask via comment to be on taglist on the masterlist chapter, or teaser

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months ago

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The Devil at Your Window |9: A Hard Problem|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: Finally some spice has entered the story with our naughty, naughty Devil. Bad, Matt, you shouldn't be doing that! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha @kmc1989 @midnightramble @marissamejia19

Chewing your nail, you stared down at the screen on your phone. You were currently on your lunch break mindlessly scrolling through The Bulletin's website for news updates in the city while you sat in the break room eating the lunch you'd brought from home. But when you'd almost immediately stumbled on a photo of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on their website, you'd paused mid-bite of your sandwich.

It had been over a week since he'd last stopped by your apartment. He'd even frequented your Devil’s Pantry far less than usual during that time. You'd thought that maybe he just hadn't been going out as often at night, possibly taking a break or recovering from an injury. Because in the past when you hadn't seen him much over a period of time, he at least still stopped by and grabbed some water and protein bars or packets of trail mix from the container you left out for him. But now sitting here and seeing this article on The Bulletin's website was proof to you that he wasn't sitting at home–wherever that was for him–and that he had in fact been out and active in Hell’s Kitchen this week.

The title of the article had read ‘Masked Man Strikes Again,’ but you had barely managed to read the first few paragraphs before you'd scrolled back up to the poor quality photograph. You'd enlarged it on your phone, setting your sandwich down as the quality of the picture became worse when the image doubled in size. The index finger of your left hand lightly trailed along the line of his mask on his face, your heart sinking in your chest.

You probably shouldn't have pushed your luck with him last week. Trying to further rile him up by talking about the date and the kiss with Dylan had in hindsight been a bad idea. You were certain now that the Devil had been keeping his distance from you because he thought you were seeing someone. Clearly this photograph of him slinking into an alley sometime in the past few days was proof of that since he was still lurking around the city at night. It meant that he was still going out, he just didn't want to see you.

Sighing at the realization, you exited out of the website and locked your phone before tossing the device hopelessly down onto the table. Burying your face into the palm of your hands, you wished you could scream into them. The Devil’s visits had been a welcome distraction from your mundane life ever since he'd fallen onto your fire escape. Wondering when he'd appear at your window next each day had been something to look forward to, as pathetic as that sounded. Now you might not even have that anymore. Would you ever find him standing on your fire escape again? Or was he just permanently done with you?

As you sat there with your face in your hands, you began doing what you'd been doing all week–imagining things had gone differently the last time you’d seen the Devil. You should have openly flirted with him more, or maybe even just flat out confessed your stupid crush to him. On the slight chance that he genuinely liked you–which would explain the jealousy–at least he would have finally known the truth. Maybe he would've returned to your window by now.

It also didn't help that the image of his perfect ass was now permanently ingrained in your mind after that last visit. Shamefully you'd recalled it a few different times this week already when you'd been in your bed missing him. With his absence these past few days, you'd been thinking about him at night more frequently than usual, finding yourself unable to resist touching yourself to thoughts of him when you lay awake in bed.

Shifting awkwardly on your chair as a burst of heat suddenly awoke inside of you at those thoughts, you tried to push them back as they threatened to take over even now. You felt pathetic sitting there knowing that it took hardly anything to get you wound up when it came to him, but now was certainly not the place to be thinking about the Devil. Not like that. Even though each time you got off to your growing fantasies of him, you only wound up feeling worse afterwards. Especially knowing what you now had just discovered–that he was still going out at night and intentionally avoiding you.

All you wanted was for him to just come back to your window.

Matt had tried to avoid your apartment tonight like he'd done every other night that he'd been out this week, but somehow he'd found himself on top of your building anyway.

He knew he should go. You'd made it clear that you were seeing someone. He shouldn't keep showing up and flirting with you just to get a rise out of you. If you were on your way to developing a relationship with someone then he knew he should respect that.

But your absence from his nights out this week had him realizing just how much he'd grown to miss his banter with you. You always managed to make his bleak nights brighter and to say something surprising that kept him on his toes. He even missed the way you reacted just at the sight of him every single time he appeared at your window. Something about the way your heart skipped a beat before hammering in your chest as your pheromones went into overdrive in turn sent him into a frenzy–internally, of course. Because he wasn't going to ever actually act on his attraction to you.

Not that he could now since you were with that guy.

As he paced his way over to the edge of the building so he could drop down onto your fire escape, he told himself that he'd just stop by to see if you were even still leaving food and water out for him. If you were still filling the Devil’s Pantry, it'd be rude of him not to partake.

The only reason he'd even allowed himself to stop by your fire escape tonight was also because he knew it was late. On his way over, he’d overheard a conversation where someone had mentioned that it was just after one in the morning. Considering you had work tomorrow, Matt knew you'd already be asleep. There was no risk of you catching him outside your window tonight.

Landing with a soft thump on your fire escape, Matt remained in a crouch as he threw his senses into your apartment just to confirm what he’d already suspected. Rising to his full height as he picked up on your heart, he'd curiously noticed that it was beating faster than it should have been if you were asleep, which was strange since he'd caught the sound coming from your bedroom along with the faint rustling of your sheets. Which meant you were in bed right now. Had you woken in the middle of the night then? Or were you just struggling to fall asleep tonight?

Carefully he took two quiet steps closer to your window, trying to remain undetected as he attempted to figure out why you were awake so late tonight. But just as the toe of his boot met the side of the Devil’s Pantry that you had in fact left out for him beside your window, he heard a low buzzing sound while simultaneously being hit with the overwhelming and tantalizing scent of your arousal. The smell of it had momentarily struck him dumb as he stood outside on your fire escape, your shallow breaths suddenly loud in his ears.

That's when he realized what he'd stumbled on.

You were indeed in your bed right now–masturbating. He could hear the soft, wet sounds of your fingers methodically pumping in and out of yourself as he placed the faint buzzing noise as your vibrator. Unintentionally focusing closer on you inside, his senses quickly became overwhelmed by the shifting of your sheets as your body writhed along your mattress, the faint sheen of your sweat mingling with the sweet, siren call of your cunt even past the glass.

Stumbling a step back from your window, Matt roughly shook his head as he tried to clear his senses. He should not be listening to this. Especially because you were probably in there thinking about that guy right now. Grinding his teeth in irritation, Matt tried to focus on the sounds of anything else in the city right now–police sirens in the distance, a drunken fight two blocks away, an infomercial on the television two floors down–

Your soft moan tore through all the noise, somehow louder than all the rest. Matt felt his cock stirring further awake in his too tight pants.

“No,” Matt growled, sharply shaking his head again as he spun around on your fire escape. “Not like this.”

Trying to ignore the burning ache now growing between his thighs, he gripped the railing of your fire escape in both of his gloved hands. Shutting his senses off to the sounds of you inside of your apartment behind him, he flung himself over the side of the railing. He dropped down a couple of floors below onto another fire escape, his jaw tensing at the impact. But it didn’t help that the faint jolt when he’d landed had sent a tinge of pleasure through his thighs and straight up his spine.

With a frustrated snarl, he tried to focus on anything else right now. Someone in the building next door was watching what sounded like an action movie, the sounds of screaming and explosions a helpful distraction. Keeping his attention on the movie as he attempted to place what it might’ve been, he once more threw himself over the side of this fire escape as he continued his descent down the building until he reached the pavement. But as he’d tried to catch his balance on that last drop, his concentration broke and your shallow breaths once more filled his ears.

“Mmmph,” he heard you whimper a few floors above. “Fuck.”

The quiet curse had sounded as loud as if you’d whispered it straight into his own ear. Matt’s eyes snapped shut as he tried hard not to imagine the feel of your lips pressed to the shell of it as you’d spoken. Ducking around the corner of your building and into the nearby alley, your heavy breathing continued to plague Matt’s hearing.

Roughly he slammed a gloved fist against the brick wall beside himself, an aggravated roar barreling forth from his chest as he fought to tune you back out. He felt like every other sound of Hell’s Kitchen was slipping through his grasp right now. He couldn’t manage to hold onto anything else for long enough to keep you out of his head, the sounds from your bedroom steadily growing louder and louder in his ears. The strain in his pants was becoming more and more urgent and unbearable with every ragged breath and soft squelch of your fingers.

Part of him was desperate to turn around and climb back up the building to your fire escape and find out if your window was still left unlocked. He wanted to throw it open and let the essence of your desire that was so clearly permeating the air seep into his very skin. He wanted to stalk into your bedroom and tear the sheets off of your partially naked body and hear your startled gasp. Then he wanted to attach his mouth to the places your vibrator was currently touching, desperate to hear the sounds you’d make when he brought you right to the brink. He wanted to feel the tremble in your thighs when they clamped tight around his face just before you came on his mouth.

He wanted his fill of you. He wanted to take you from that asshole. Claim you as the Devil’s and show you how much better he was. How much better he could make you feel. How much louder he could make you scream and how many more orgasms he could give you. You’d never remember another name but the Devil’s when he was through with you.

Teeth clenched together, Matt once more slammed his fist into the brick beside himself and tried to focus on the throbbing in his knuckles instead of in his pants. His other hand rose up, running across his mouth in frustration. He was so ridiculously hard right now. Standing there in the alley, he felt his cock straining miserably against the confines of his already too-tight pants. It was uncomfortable, and the sounds of your breaths coming in even faster and sharper from above were only making things worse.

He should never have stopped by your damn apartment tonight.

He’d already been planning to head back to his apartment after yours to begin with, but now his desire to get back home had reached levels of utter desperation. There was no way he was going to be able to ignore the need for you now. He’d have to jerk himself off once he got home–and fast, because your whimpers were beginning to draw forth beads of pre-cum that were dampening the front of his boxers. If he didn’t make it back home soon, he’d probably lose it in your alley just listening to you fingering yourself.

“This is pathetic,” he snarled to himself.

Attempting to pay attention to his surroundings, Matt began to make his way back towards his apartment. Though no matter how much he kept trying to focus on literally anything else–a couple arguing a block over, the chatter of a group of people having a cigarette outside a nearby bar, even the ear piercing sound of a car alarm–your soft moans kept breaking through every other noise in the city. For some horrible reason his senses just refused to ignore you no matter how much he kept trying.

Each step he took as he awkwardly jogged back towards his apartment building was awful. His cock felt damn near ready to rip open the seams of his pants with how hard it had become, and he was aware of how strange his gait was–he'd never had to manage getting back home with an erection before and it felt absolutely embarrassing. Worse than tearing the ass of his pants. Repeatedly he’d fought the urge to reach down and even brush a hand over the hard bulge in his pants, hungry for any sort of stimulation to relieve the throbbing, painful desire that was taking over his every thought. His own breath had started to come in sharp, staccato pants as he made it over to his block across the street from yours, slinking around to the back of his building.

You were thinking about that guy , Matt tried to remind himself in the hopes of increasing his anger instead of his arousal as he began to climb the side of his building, making his way towards the roof. That’s what you were doing right now. Pleasuring yourself to thoughts of some other asshole who had no idea how amazingly selfless and thoughtful you were. Some asshole who didn't know that you liked to add extra chocolate chips to your boxed brownie mixes or how you stress cleaned when you were upset. He had no damn clue that you liked to burn marshmallow scented candles and watch romantic dramas before bed, or that you liked to curl up on your couch with two blankets instead of one.

And right now your mind was conjuring images of that other guy’s face while you vigorously fingered yourself– not his. And he hated that.

Matt's angry thoughts only backfired as the Devil’s fury and frustration only lead to his increased desire to further prove his sexual prowess to you. He kept imagining climbing in through your window instead of making his way back home and pushing you up against the wall before tearing those sweatpants you often wore right down your legs. He'd stuff his fingers deep inside of you until your knees wanted to give out and your moans broke off on sharp gasps. Then he'd bend you over the back of your sofa, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips as he buried his cock into you over and over while your hands uselessly clawed at the fabric of your couch for something to hold onto.

“Yesyesyesyesyes-”

Matt’s hand briefly lost its grip on the side of the building as the sound of you about to cum slammed into his ears. He’d momentarily slipped, catching himself at the last moment before he could actually fall down two floors and land painfully on his back.

“Shit,” he cursed.

If he didn’t focus, he’d end up not only cumming in his pants on the side of his building, but probably landing unconscious on someone’s fire escape right afterwards. And for obvious reasons, he didn’t need that to happen.

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Matt tried hard to focus on something else. He noticed that someone in a nearby apartment on the fourth floor had burnt chicken in their oven only a couple of hours ago. It smelled so terrible that he could smell it even from outside, the scent practically burning his nostrils. Trying to stay focused on that, Matt finished climbing his way up to the roof. But as he'd pulled himself up and over onto the top of the building, he'd bumped himself against the concrete and let out a sharp groan of pleasure and pain.

In his momentary distraction, he once more could hear you from across the street, your growing whimpers only somewhat muffled by the distance, but they hadn't remotely lost their effect on him. Practically limping towards the roof access door that led back to his apartment, Matt finally caved. One gloved hand landed straight onto the bulge in his pants.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he hissed out.

He was so wound up that the slight pressure over his pants already had him about ready to cum. Hurrying faster towards the door, he sharply flung it open and darted inside his apartment. He'd had his pants unbuckled and his zipper undone before the door had even shut behind himself. Not even taking the time to make his way down the stairs to his living room, Matt's gloved hands shoved his pants and his boxers midway down his thighs, his hard cock springing forth in relief before he began frantically tugging at his gloves.

“Oh fuck-shit-yesyesyes-”

“He'd never fuck you like I could,” Matt caught himself growling at you, tossing his gloves to the floor before wrapping a hand around his freed cock. “Promise you that, angel. I'd–oh fuck– ”

A strangled groan flew out of his throat as he pumped himself into his hand just once, your building high-pitched whimpers already easily dragging him along towards an orgasm with you. He felt perverse for what he was doing right now, aware it was wrong, but he couldn't seem to stop. He’d already tried so hard to ignore you that now he’d just given in, his hand vigorously stroking his aching and overstimulated cock.

“I'd make you feel ten times better than he ever could,” he ground out through teeth, his hips bucking forward into his hand in punctuation with his words. “I'd –ahh shit– make you–feel–sogoddamngood. ”

He heard your sharp gasp which was soon followed by the noise of something like a moan mixed with a broken whimper, the delicious noise sounding as if you'd just finally cum. Anger and need simultaneously mingling together inside of him like an all consuming fire, his toes curling inside of his boots, Matt felt that distinct surge of his own release racing up his spine as he continued to fuck his hand.

“He–can’t–have you !” he roared into the room.

Warm, thick strands of his cum spilled forth, coating Matt's hand as he continued to work himself through his release. His breath was coming in rough, ragged pants now as he leant up against the wall nearby, entirely spent from the release and having tried so hard to block you out. Thankfully now the sound of you in your bedroom was no longer easy for him to hear, but the reason as to why he hadn’t been able to tune that particular private moment of yours out still eluded him.

Throwing his head back against the wall behind himself, Matt let out a frustrated groan. Not only should none of that have just happened, but now he had to face the very real fact of what he'd been denying for awhile. He was attracted to you and he wanted you. Badly. But you weren't available anymore, and even if you were, he highly doubted you were the type to get intimate with a masked man you knew nothing about. You didn't seem like the no-strings-attached-sex type. Though Matt also knew that wasn't a good idea anyway. That would not happen, he wouldn't let it.

Still trying to catch his breath, Matt reached up and tore the mask from off his head with his clean hand. Balling the fabric into his fist, he let out an irritated grunt for a different reason now. He wanted you but he was aware that he'd never be able to have you in any physical way because you could never know who he actually was. There was no way he’d ever reveal his real identity to you, and it wasn’t right for him to act on any of his desires when you knew nothing about him. Besides, he reminded himself bitterly, you were still with that guy .

Matt expelled a long, sharp breath in frustration. He knew after what had just happened that he'd also have to keep avoiding your place. Because he wasn't sure he could just stick to the teasing banter with you after what he’d just done, not with the things he was aching to do to you still running through his mind. He’d just have to keep trying to avoid you.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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trashytracktales · 1 month ago

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🌸 || MASTERLIST

──── The ultimate guide to every F1 fic I’ve posted on my blog. You’ll find everything organized by driver, so you can easily find exactly what you’re in the mood for. The list will be updated regularly.

──── Everything I write is:

purely fictional, and just for fun;

18+, explicit, and contains mature/sexual content, unless specified (please, always read the warnings);

“she/her reader”, because you guys won't catch me dead using Y/N, it's just not working for me, sorry :(

──── Music plays a huge role in my writing process. While it’s totally optional, I often include song recommendations for my stories to enhance your reading experience.

──── “COMING SOON” = I started working on it, but it might take a while until it's finished.

Don’t want to miss the next update?

Make sure to turn on post notifications so you’re the first to read it!

��﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 CHARLES LECLERC

1. Fade to nothing (5.5k)

2. Hell of a week ── COMING SOON!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 MAX VERSTAPPPEN

1. So we ride (4.4k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 LANDO NORRIS

1. Drive me, clutch (2.8k)

2. In the heat of it (3.6k)

3. If it's meant to fall apart (10.6k)

4. Deep in the Alps (4.1k)

5. Orange glow (3.5k)

6. Endings, beginnings (5.1k)

7. The FIA (Feral Instincts Arise) Awards (3.2k)

8. By the book (3.7k)

9. Oh, Christmas treat (2.5k)

10. Nothing less (2.8k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 FRANCO COLAPINTO

1. Adrenaline state of mind (4.6k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 OSCAR PIASTRI

1. Lust and phantoms ── COMING SOON!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 LOGAN SARGEANT

1. Late for Logan (3.5k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 TEXTING THE F1 GRID

1. Reader texting song lyrics ── MV¹, CL¹⁶, LN⁴, OP⁸¹, FA¹⁴, FC⁴³, LH��⁴, LS², CS⁵⁵

I retain full copyright over all written content on this blog. Please note that while I own the words, I do not claim ownership of any photos or media unless explicitly stated. Feel free to reblog or share links, but please do not repost, copy, or translate my writing without permission. Thank you for respecting my work!

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jillsandwhichs · 2 months ago

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Tip

Chapter 9 to RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Leon Kennedy

Summary: You are a waitress at a local diner in the city. Sure, you've had your fair share of flirty, pervy customers but none have ever been as enticing as this one

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Strangers/Hookup

WC: 4.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Reader is in early adult years, Leon is late 20s, Flirting, Leon is cocky and rich, BJ, Slight cum kink, Spanking, Hair pulling, Cums in your mouth, Protected P in V, Riding, Dry humping and Dirty talk

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

It has just been another casual day at the diner. Cleaning tables and dishes, attending to customers and sweeping the floors, it's just another Monday. Waiting tables is what you do for a living, for now. It isn't ideal but you don't mind it too much. You always get decent tips and an alright pay. You live alone so you don't have to worry too much about how big your paycheck is or how much you make in tips daily. As long as you're rolling in dough, you're set.

This day particularly has been slow. Mondays are one of the slowest days of the week because it's the first work day which means less business. It's mainly older people and church groups who eat during the day on Mondays but towards the later hours of the day, families and sports teams come in. The diner you work for is the hot spot in the city. Everyone who lives in the city or nearby comes often.

Your shift is getting closer to being done. You only have two hours left. It ends at 4:00 PM and you started work today at 8:00 AM. It's been so slow that it feels as if you've been here since yesterday. You can't wait to get back to your homey apartment. You have an essay due today in your Art History class so you'll have to get that done but after that, the rest of the day is yours!

Wiping down a table, you heard the main door open. There is a bell attached to the top of it to tell workers anytime someone walks in or not. The two customers that were just at this booth made sure to clean up their space and it put you in an even better mood. You sprayed hygienic water onto the table one last time and wiped it down before setting out new napkins and silverware for when the next group comes in.

You were about to amble off to the back but you were stopped by a man's voice. His voice was deep and husky. It startled you a bit, admittedly. You turned around to face and you were left stunned by how tall he was. You're short, yes, but this man is a giant! Your eyes went up to meet with his. His are a bright blue. They are oceanic. He has a broad stature too, he clearly works out often. He's wearing a casual outfit but it still appears a bit more fancy for where he's currently at.

"Excuse me, could I get a table for one? Just looking to have some lunch." He said in that deep voice. You looked him up and down and as you did, he said another thing. "My eyes are up here." He teased, his blue eyes locking with yours. You felt embarrassment wash over you. How could you not admire this man? He looks like a model. "Um, sorry... Just follow me." You murmured, heading towards a clean circle table near the center of the diner.

The man followed behind you and once you presented the table to him, he took his seat. "I'll be back shortly. Figure out what you'd like to drink until then." "Wait, what's your name? Isn't it courtesy that the waitress tells her waiters her name?" You told him his name with a scoff. He seems slightly cocky. "Pretty name. I'm Leon." Leon stated. "Cool name. I'll be back shortly." You said a bit more sternly. You walked off and pushed the back door open to enter the kitchen.

You checked to see if all of the drink machines are still working. Your manager let you know yesterday that they've been a bit janky. You tested each one and they all seemingly worked. Only three other people are working with you today. Leah, Maverick and Dean. Leah is a waitress and Mav & Dean are cooks. Mondays truly are so easy to work.

You exited the kitchen and went to wait another table before Leon's. This table just wanted one plate of Alfredo and a plate of beef stew. "I'll have those out to you two in a bit." You said with your customer service voice. You've gotten very good at it. Strolling over to the kitchen, you stuck your ticket up on the metal bar. "Order for table four, be quick guys." You said to both of the men working. You trust they'll get it done quickly.

Leah was waiting her own section of tables. Hers seem to be going by a lot faster which irritates you. You want more tables for more money. You don't necessarily need it, but of course it's nice to have.

Making your way back over to Leon, you saw his face weirdly light up when he saw you. Is this guy a creeper? You stood in front of his table with a notepad before asking what he'd like to drink and eat. "I'll just take a coke and to eat, I'll have your creamy ravioli. I have a question for you now." He stated. "Uh, okay, go ahead and ask." You replied softly as you wrote his order down. "When is your shift over?" "That is none of your concern."

Assumption confirmed, this guy is a weirdo. Why would some elegant looking man be asking you of all people that odd question? Does he want to kidnap you or something? You were always taught to not give out info like that. It's vital.

"I'm not some pervert or anything." He chuckled. "Can a man not be curious?" "Why are you curious about when I get off of work?" "Because I think you're a pretty girl and I'd like to take you out." Leon smirked at you. "I bet you say that to all the ladies." You rolled your eyes. "I'll be back with your food in a bit." You scoffed and went to walk off but this arrogant man stopped you once again.

"When does your shift end?" This guy's persistence is appalling. Can't he take a hint? "None of your business." "Three? Four? Tell me." He said softly, his tone a lot less deep down. You sighed deeply. It won't kill for him to know. You're going straight home anyways. "Four. You aren't taking me out." "We'll see about that." You gave him an irritated look and trailed off. You're just going to give the paper to the chefs so that this man can leave ASAP.

Stepping up to the kitchen area again, you handed them a new ticket. You want this Leon guy in and out of here. You've had one to many men hitting on you, do these men realize how young you are? Leon appears to be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties and you're a College student! Men are so desperate nowadays. Sure, drabbling in older men isn't a bad thing, but not these kind of older men.

You grabbed a tray of refill drinks to take to one of your other tables. You almost forgot about them.

Exiting the kitchen, you went over to their table and set their drinks down. "A water for the lady and a coke for the gentleman. Enjoy." Leah will most likely take this section over soon, she tends to. Your eyes went to Leon's table and unsurprisingly, his eyes were on you. "What a loser." You mumbled beneath your breath. He's a handsome man, most definitely, but why would he want anything to do with you? He's probably just trying to get a quick fuck in.

If he wasn't so forward and weird about it, you would probably give in. That pretty much sums up how you are as a girl. You aren't a virgin, you like sex and you've never had it with an older man. You bet it's quite the experience.

After waiting almost eight minutes, you got the couples food to them and set it down. "Here you two go. Enjoy." You said with a friendly tone. Leon's was done as well. Time to journey back to the table of doom.

With the bowl and drink in hand, you went to Leon's table and set both down. "There you go. Enjoy your beverage and meal." "I sure will. Thank you." Leon replied, looking you up and down. His look is rather enticing. He's an enticing man. "Don't look at me like that." You said with a shy tone. It made you rather nervous, shy even. No man has made you feel that way in some time. "Like what?" "Like that."

He knows what he is doing. He does. "What is your problem?" You put your hands on your hips. This is completely against protocol. Even when a customer is an ass, you should remain calm and collected but God, this guy is insufferable. "I'll answer anything you'd like... If you agree to come with me after my shift." Has this man ever learned about stranger danger. "No, you could be a murderer." "I could be, but I'm not. I'm just a blind dog looking for a bone." He is cheesy.

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your temple.

"What is it you want?" "You." "Why?" "I can see you're different. Plus, you're stunning." The compliment made your stomach heat up. "Different? You've spoken to me only a little." "What's your point?" "You know nothing about me." "I'd like to know everything about you." God, can he not take a hint? You giggled. "We can just sit in my car after your shift and talk. We'll even stay in the parking lot, if that makes you feel safer." He smirked at you.

Why is he so fucking convincing???

Your eyes scanned the clock above one of the tables and you heaved softly. "Come back at four. We'll talk then." You smiled softly but tried to hide it. Leon bit his lip and nodded. "See you then."

Four PM.

You're in the locker room. It's a small but useful room. Your removed your apron and released your hair from its ponytail. You shook your hair and brushed it slightly. For a moment, you completely forgot about the whole Leon situation, but it's suddenly hit you. Before he left his table, he left you a $50 tip. That's insane. You were grateful and expressed that. You suppose its only respectful if you go with him.

He promised to even let you hold onto his car keys if it makes you feel better. You know what it'll most likely turn into and you're down, even though you didn't want to admit it at first.

You left the room and pushed open the entry door back into the restaurant and you saw Leon's car out in the parking lot. You sighed deeply and looked over to Dean who was also about to clock out. "See you Wednesday." "See you then." Dean waved goodbye to you. You returned the gesture and made your way out of the diner.

Leon's eyes met with yours. Those blue orbs, they are intoxicating. You rolled your eyes and walked up to his vehicle. He has a Cadillac. You can tell by its shape and symbol. He nudged his head for you to get in, and you did. You opened up the passenger door and sat down and immediately put your hand out. "Keys." "Right here." He placed them in your hand. They are the right keys. This eased you a lot more.

"What do you want with me? Do you do this with other women?" "I mean, I have. I won't lie to you. It has been a long time though, little over a year." Leon tittered. "I just think you're very pretty." "You've established that." "Isn't it rather obvious what I'd like to do with and to you?" That made your heart skip beats. "Not really." You have an idea. You'll play dumb though. You want to hear it from his own mouth.

Leon laughed and grinned. He leaned a bit closer to you. "I entered that diner and immediately saw a pretty girl with a pretty mouth. I'd like to see it around my dick." You lost your breath at his words. It's been a long time since you've hooked up with anyone and this is quite the way for it to happen after all this time. "What?" You said breathlessly. "I also want to show you how a real man fucks. Not none of that College boy bullshit." He adjusted himself. So he is aware that you are in College. Great guess.

Running your fingers through your hair, you felt your entire body heating up. You were most definitely blushing. You could feel the gush between your folds beginning to form. "If you want to just hookup with girls, why not use Tinder?" "I find doing it through person more real and authentic." You couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or not. "You are a total creep." "I'm a man with needs and you'd fulfill them well." You scoffed at his sentence. "Bite me." You went to open the car door but he grabbed your wrist.

"Hey, no, no, please." Leon said softly. "If you really want to go, then okay, have at it but I promise I'll give you such a good time." Leon pleaded with you. His tone was desperate. Why was that attractive to you? Your eyes went to his bulge. He was clearly rock hard. You are wet, you can feel it. Why do you feel so odd for doing this? It's just a hookup.

You bit your lip and analyzed the outside area before handing him his keys. "There's an alleyway about three block from here. Take us and I'll hookup with you." Confidence filled your voice. He laughed. "Smart girl." He turned his car on and began the drive to the alleyway, which only took maybe a minute or two.

The second he parked, your hands went to his belt and he snickered. "More eager and horny than I am now, huh?" "No. I just want to get this over with." "Right." He snorted. You removed his leather belt and tossed it in the back. You undid the singular button that was sown onto his pants and that was when his huge cock sprung out. Bigger than any you've ever seen or had. You already can foreshadow how this'll feel down your throat.

He already had precum as well. To you, cum is so hot. You have an intense kink for it. You rubbed the semen on your thumb and sucked it off of it. Leon chuckled. "That's a good sign." He hummed. You brushed your hair to the side and smiled at him. "Make sure my hair stays out of my face." "Will do." That was the last thing you said before you wrapped your lips around the base of his cock.

This isn't anything you haven't done before. You'd even call yourself a pro. At a slow pace, you moved your head up and down. He was big, so you wanted to take it at a decent pace. Leon's hand stayed on your back for the time being. You felt his hand rubbing it softly. He was being gentle with you. His tip kept hitting the roof of your mouth. You couldn't believe it but you could already sense you'd be gagging a whole lot.

With your tongue, you slurped around the head of his dick. You felt his hole twitch when you did that. "You're a fucking goddess at sucking dick." He said bluntly whilst his head went backwards. You wanted to laugh but you physically couldn't. You continued to lick and suck. It's weird but you want him to feel as though you're the best he's had. This is like a challenge for you, a game even.

You began to bob your head faster now. Your head moved up and down at a quick pace. Leon's hand tangled in your hair. His fingers tips lightly scratched your head and it made your pussy tingle. You haven't felt this way in such a long time. Leon wrapped your hair around his hand, his grip was firm. You knew he was this type. He seems like a kinky man overall.

The little whimpers you made caused Leon to moan himself. He found you very sexy and your noises only added to that. "You look beautiful like this." He huffed out. His throat felt like it was going to close. His muscles were tightening. His member was twitching in your mouth. The man is close.

"How many hummers have you had to give to be so good?" He grunted. Now he was basically pushing your head and pulling it back up. You didn't even have to do the work anymore. His hand pulled your hair and God, it felt good. You moaned around his dick. You swiped your tongue from the lower base and back up to the tip and that must've been his undoing.

Leon kept your head in place. His tip was deep throating you. That familiar taste filled your mouth and entered your taste buds. All cum has tasted similar to you with minor differences. Whats different about Leon's is the fact is more of a thick texture rather than the usual more liquidy version. It was fine though. You swallowed it all.

The man was panting heavily as you popped his cock out. Your licked your lips and wiped them with your sweater. "Jesus..." He laughed. "That was good." He praised you. "Unfuckingbelievable." He smirked at you. "I've had practice." "Clearly." He squeezed your hip and gazed at you. "Get in the back so I can fuck you." He chuckled. You giggled to and looked behind you.

You crawled over the center console and squealed as you felt a hard smack to your ass as you did. You briskly sat down and adjusted your skirt. You are wearing a beige sweater with a printed skirt. It was the change of clothes you brought to work since it's Fall. The weather is breezy & chilly but also warm and cozy. Leon just held his pants up as he got out of the car and got into the back. There was no way he was going to climb over as you did.

He sat down and spread his legs to a degree. He pulled his pants back down too. You gawked at him momentarily and he noticed. "Like what you see?" "Mhm." You nodded moderately. He laughed. "Sit on my lap." You listened. You straddled him. Hands on his shoulders and thighs on either side of his. His hands went to your waist. "Feel that?" He was referring to his tip rubbing against your panties.

"You need it inside of you, hm?" He began to slowly pull your hips forward. The slight grind he was forcing you to do made you even more soaked. "I do." You whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "I know you do doll." You felt a surge of lust course through you. You want this man to destroy you.

One hand left your hip and went to his cock instead. He rubbed his tip against your cunt through your panties. "I can feel how wet you are." He sighed softly, kissing the side of your head. "I wanna feel how tight you are." He murmured against your ear before biting the lobe of it. You moaned and felt your stomach twist. How is he making you feel all these ways all at once? He's a master at this. It's such a turn on.

Pulling your panties to the side, he stroked his cock through your bare folds now, picking your wetness up. "How does this feel?" He said in a low tone. "Good. Really good." You hummed in reply, kissing his neck gently. "Mmm, good." He kissed your cheek. He let go of his cock and reached into his pocket. "Gotta wrap it." "Yeah." You snickered. You lifted your body up so he could put the rubber on. Once he did, he pulled you back down.

"Now princess, tell me, how does this feel?" And as he hummed that to you, he stuck his dick inside of you. You moaned softly and gripped his shirt. "Mmm, you just gave me the exact answer I was searching for." You moaned again and pressed your lips against his. You don't think Leon was expecting that, but he liked it. His hands went to your face as you began to both kiss him and ride him.

You rode him at an unrushed pace. He kissed you passionately. Almost right as you two started to make out, you both opened your mouths and tongued one another. You bounced on his cock as you stuck your tongue deep in his mouth. Leon caressed your face and slowly brought his hands down to your ass cheeks. He held onto them tightly and ever so often slapped them.

"You're so fucking tight." He grunted, licking your lip and kissing you again. "You feel so deep inside of me." You whimpered. It was true. He's so long and girthy. He's rubbing against your wet & gushy walls in the most pleasurable way. "You can take it. You're a slut, I know you can." You laughed at his words and bit his lower lip. "I'm not a whore." "You sure fuck like one. Look at how you're riding me." In all fairness, you are skillfully riding him and bouncing on him. Your movements are of expertise.

You rolled your eyes at his snotty words. "Guess me getting around has really paid off." "Yeah, sure, but I promise I'll be your best." He slapped your ass hard, making you speechless. Only noises of pleasure and need came from you. He felt so good. Your cunt was tightening around him, you could feel it and so could he.

Your head autonomously tilted backwards. Your mouth was agape as little whimpers emitted from him. Leon's hands continued to grip your ass. He occasionally spreaded your cheeks and stuck his finger on your anus, making your body shake. He must have a thing for that, you suppose. "Pretty girl." He reached his free hand up and taped it around your neck lightly. "Gonna make you have the best fucking orgasm." He whispered to you before he began to thrust up.

You quit moving your hips entirely and just sat there as he fucked you messily. His hip thrusts were sloppy but they were getting the job down. "Taking is so fucking well. I need you again sometime." You couldn't tell if there was truth in that or if it was pure lust and desire. You simply rested your head against his shoulder as he pumped up into you. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered, your tone soft and shaky. "Cum for me babygirl." Leon kissed your forehead.

That'll do it.

Your body shook as your orgasm blew over you. You felt waves and waves of pleasure crash into you out of no where. Your walls clenched around his member and that was what finished him off. "Fuuuck." His words dragged out as he came. Your arms encased around his neck and you just sat there as you came down from your high. He hugged you back. His cum squirted into the condom. You wish it could've been inside of you. Such a waste.

After a minute or so, you sat up and got off of him. You were breathless and at a loss for words. Your eyes glanced down at the condom; Pure white liquid filled it. "That was... God." You giggled, closing your legs and staring at him. He nodded and removed the condom, tossing it in a baggy. "Sure was." He caught his breath.

Leon looked at you and took your hand in his. "Was that the best orgasm you've had?" "I don't mean to bruise your ego but..." Leon snickered and playfully nudged you. "Shut up." You snorted and smiled at him. "Yeah, it was really good." You nodded. "I'm glad." He blew out a big breath of air.

"For the record, I wasn't just saying that." "Saying what?" "That I need you again sometime. I meant it." "Oh." You said with tranquility. "I'll give you my number then...?" "Yeah, I'll take it." Leon replied.

He handed you his phone and you began to jot the digits in.

This definitely won't be the last time you see Mr. Kennedy.

#tumblr fyp #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #smut #eventual smut #smutshot #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #waitress #rich guy

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lilywastaken · 2 years ago

Text

⇝ shadow .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART TWO OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: All Simon wants is to explain his disappearance to you, but he can't really expect you to be willing to listen.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Mentions of NSFW, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications, Soft!Dad!Simon.

A/N: Second chapter!! Almost exactly a week after the first one LMAO. No smut in this one, I'm afraid, but some very fluffy moments between Simon and Tommy! <333 Once again, please reblog and comment if you enjoy this, it helps a lot!!!

WORD COUNT: 10k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

You were pretty sure your fingers were about to snap.

The grip you had on the door could rival that of a professional arm wrestler, your whole body stiff and frozen in place as your gaze locked onto Simon's.

Was it even Simon? His eyes didn't hold the same warmth it had the last time you'd seen him, his body wasn't as relaxed as it had felt beneath your touch, his whole frame covered in dark clothing that left his eyes as the only source of light that shone through that shadow of a man.

Well, you couldn't even consider them that, his blue orbs lacked that speck of light you'd grown accustomed to seeing in your son's; it left him looking like a ghost, a shell of a man. But maybe that was appropriate, he never did look like the kind of bloke you'd expect to be kind or sweet, he suited more the idea of a cold, ruthless man that had abandoned you and your son.

Even after having spent a night in his arms, felt the touch of his lips on your skin, memorised the feeling of his cock inside of you; he was still a stranger to you, a man you had idolised so much during the first days after your encounter that he had begun to form into someone completely different in your mind.

And now that he was in front of you, you knew. This wasn't the Simon from your dreams that held you in his arms, the Simon from your dreams that pressed kisses to your swollen belly whenever the baby would kick, the Simon from your dreams that hadn't left.

It was like a slap in the face.

One that brought you back to reality, that flushed away any daydream or idealised version you had of him from your mind, and forced you to focus on the man standing in front of you.

"You-"

"Did you keep it?"

As if you'd been sucker punched right in the gut, you felt the air leave your lungs, the words you had intended to speak sitting on the tip of your tongue like the bitter taste of black tea.

"It? Wh-"

"Him. Our son."

Our son.

It was funny, how he'd managed to say the two simple words that immediately made your blood boil in rage, tears forming at the corner of your eyes out of frustration as.

"Oh, so he's our son now?" You willed yourself to keep calm, but you couldn't help how your voice wavered when you spoke, this whole situation baring to be too much to handle along with your already declining mental state. "You didn't seem very interested before."

"I was gone."

"Oh, trust me, I know." You snarled, your harsh tone causing him to look away from you, whether it was in shock or fear, you didn't care. At least you couldn't feel small beneath his stare if he wasn't looking. "How long has it fucking been, Simon? A year. 9 months carrying your child and 3 months raising him. You have no fucking right to come knocking now and asking to see him."

"You don't understa-"

"I don't need to fucking understand, Simon!" You cried out, your voice ringing down the hall and in Ghost's ears, "I was alone! I am alone! I went through a terrifying pregnancy on my own because you couldn't bother to pick up the goddamn phone! Where were you when I needed you!? Where were you when the doctor told me that the birth might leave irreparable damage on my body!? Where were you when I almost lost him!?"

Silence filled the building, dull ringing in Ghost's ears from how loud you'd shouted, his gaze shifting up from the floor to you, his heart skipping a beat at your dishevelled state, your flushed face and tear stained cheeks, the hand that had been resting on the door now clenching your shirt right above your heart, as if the simple act of talking to him pained you to no end.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Simon. Sorry doesn't make up for this past year, for all the fucking pain I went through while you were, what, ignoring me the whole time!? Waiting until an 'acceptable' time to show up and fucking demand to see him!?"

"I'm not demanding." You flinched as one of his hands came to slam onto the top of the door that separated the both of you, his hand clenching around the wood hard enough to break it, and you knew that if he wanted to, he could. "I'm asking. I'm asking to see him, for you to let me explain why I was gone."

Your lower lip quivered at the way he spoke, so calm and composed compared to you, who'd let your emotions take control of your words and had just

"I don't know what you went through. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand. And.. I'm, I'm sorry, that you were forced to go through it alone," The apology that slipped through his lips sounded almost forced, like it was his first time hearing and speaking the words out of his mouth. "I'm not here just to see him. I'm here because you deserve an explanation on why I wasn't here. And I know it won't take away the pain, but I ho-"

The door slammed shut.

Ghost was left outside of your apartment, hand still testing on the flimsy wood of your door, staring at the point where your eyes had been mere seconds ago.

You'd closed the door on him.

You'd ripped any chances he'd had of seeing his son and explaining himself to you in half.

He'd gone through his speech for hours in the car, making sure that he wouldn't come off as rude or mean to you, that everything was explained slowly and coherently, but you'd just… Closed the door on him.

It was a funny sight, really. A giant of a man standing in the corridor of a beat down building in the middle of Manchester, outwardly looking like a kicked puppy if it weren't for the fire that was burning inside of him, bubbling beneath his skin as he got the urge to rip the whole fucking door off just so would fucking listen to-

The door opened again, properly, this time. No little gap where he could barely see your full body, where you were able to hide from him in fear that he'd do something disastrous like he'd just been thinking of.

You were letting him in.

That much was obvious, by the way your shaking frame was glued to the wall of the small corridor, allowing him space to cross through into the apartment he'd spent the night in a year ago.

No words had to be spoken, the reluctant look on your face telling him more than enough.

The few steps he took to enter your apartment felt like crossing a border to another world, one that he couldn't recognise as much as he tried to think back to the last time he'd been there.

Everything had changed. The wallpaper with the flowers that reminded him of his grandma's old home had been striped, replaced with a more cool paint over; the dingy sofa where he'd ripped your tights open was replaced with a much more softer and plush looking model, one that could no doubt be pulled into a bed; the bookshelf he'd gotten the sticky notes from had been ridden of many of the books that had littered it, replaced with children's books and a few pictures, baby toys strewn across the floor in front of it.

It felt like a whole different place than what he remembered. He didn't know what he had expected, for you to have a child and for nothing to change? He was aware of the chaos that a child brought, remembering how annoyed he himself had been as everything started to change around him when his brother had been born, the need it brought to rearrange the whole house to accommodate the baby and not have any dangerous items lying around.

Ghost made a mental note to himself as he picked up one of the picture frames from next to the small telly to clean up his own house before bringing his son there (if he was even allowed to), recalling the dust and grime that covered the corners of his rooms, the glass shards from the last time he'd drunk and passed out on the sofa littering his floors.

You pushed the door closed behind you both, shaky hands pressing onto the cool wood in an attempt to ground yourself, trying not to focus on the silent yet imposing footsteps of your son's father.

You don't know what possessed you to open the door, to let him into your space, that he'd now taken over like a shadow. He looked so… out of place.

A demon along the angels, a ghost along the living.

His dark clothes contrasted heavily with the bright colours of your son's toys that laid strewn across the floor, with the soft colours your walls were painted in, with the colourful blankets that you'd tried spicing up the sofa with, despite no one being able to appreciate them other than you.

It didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right to have him here, walking around your home like he belonged there, like he'd been there all along. It was wrong.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like your throat was closing off and preventing any air from reaching your lungs properly. Your nails dug into your own palms as you clenched your hands closed, trying your best to even out your breathing and focus on anything but the impending conversation you'd have to have with him.

You could hear him say something, but your brain was so caught up with trying to stop yourself from spiralling that it didn't even comprehend what he was saying. The balaclava over his face was moving, indicating that he was speaking, but not a single sound was reaching your ears.

Your body was trembling at this point, mouth gasping for air as your throat continued to constrict, your eyes going blurry with tears as you watched him come closer to you, mouth still moving.

"Breathe." Two hard hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor bordering on what you could easily identify as a panic attack, ones that you'd been prone to ever since you gave birth. "Look at me. Breathe."

Simon immediately knew what was happening without even having to look at you.

The laboured breaths that were leaving you were enough to activate the alarms in his head, recognising them immediately. He'd heard them many times before coming from him, his teammates, the people whose heads were pressed against his gun. You were spiralling, falling into the harming grasp of your anxiety and letting it infect your body.

When he got a panic attack, Simon rode through it. The therapist that Price had assigned him a few years ago had advised him to consider doing breathing exercises whenever he showed signs of having one, but during the year he'd seen her and the years to come, not once had he considered doing them. Sometimes, he felt like he deserved to feel like that, like he was suffocating, like his heart was about to be ripped out; for all the pain and suffering he'd inflicted on others, he deserved to feel at least a sliver of it.

But the thought of letting you experience that same pain, the same panic, the same hopelessness he felt whenever he'd cave into his depression, it wasn't a good one.

So despite his initial lack of remembrance of the exercises his therapist had offered, he tried his best to talk you through it, hands grasping at your shoulders and squeezing every time he saw you start to slip away back into that pit of anxiety, keeping his eyes on yours through the whole thing, not letting you go until you'd stopped shaking and your breath had become even once again.

You'd been so focused on the anxiety coursing through your veins that you hadn't even realised who was helping you through it, blindlessly following orders and breathing along with him, your brain subconsciously recognising his voice as something to cling onto, to pull you out of your own plunging thoughts.

But as soon as you realised whose eyes you were gazing into, whose hands were holding you down, you panicked again. Your own hands came up to push him away, the action catching him off guard and making him take a few small steps back from you, eyes still fixed on yours.

"Are y-"

"Shut up." You breathed out, interrupting him for what seemed like the 100th time that night, mimicking him and taking a few steps away from him and wrapping your arms over your upper body. "Sit."

Ghost finally tore his stare away from you to look down at the sofa, hesitantly taking the first steps forward like a cat meeting its owner for the first time before finally taking a seat on the sofa, sinking into the plush pillows thanks to his weight and looking around from the new perspective.

"Do you normally have panic attacks?" He spoke up, thankful that you didn't interrupt him this time, voicing his concern.

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your fuzzy socks as you thought back to all the times you'd had to go through them on your own sitting at the doctor's office, lying in bed after putting Tommy to sleep, looking at yourself in the mirror after your labour…

Your doctor had warned you about the rollercoaster of emotions your body would go through after giving birth, including the depression many women suffered that unfortunately had affected you too during the first few weeks; but you hadn't expected it to continue until this late.

"...sometimes." You mumbled, hands running up and down your arms as you squirmed beneath his glare. "It's normal. For a lot of women."

He didn't answer, nodding in response instead before turning his head to the side table, where a small picture of a very tiny Tommy sat, his hand itching towards it to take it in properly.

The silence that followed what you could barely call a conversation was unbearable. The tension that hung in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the silence almost suffocating you as you tried to muster up the courage to speak up if he wasn't going to, despite him having almost broken down your door in order to talk.

"...so? Are you going to explain?"

Simon stayed quiet, the whole speech he'd rehearsed back in his car suddenly fizzing away from his mind like a shooting star in the night sky. He was left with barely an outline of what he wanted to say, a vague idea of everything he'd tried his best to put into words before seeing you.

But actually having you in front of him, sitting on the same sofa he'd once pressed you against, gazing into the eyes he'd once thought so much about before the start of that god awful mission, made every last thread of sanity that remained in him snapped.

He was sure that without the mask he'd look like a fool, mouth slightly open and half lidded slate blue eyes fluttering with every blink, transfixed by the vision that was you, in front of him.

"Look, if you're not even going to fucking talk, you can just go right back out the fu-"

"I can't tell you exactly what happened." You stopped mid-rant, cheeks burning in embarrassment after being the one who was interrupted this time. "My job doesn't allow it."

His job? Was he really blaming everything on his job? What kind of goddamn profession forced you to go radio silent for a whole year?

"What do you work in?"

"..." Simon regarded you with a poignant sheen in his eyes, clearly at odds with deciding what to say, the truth or what he had been taught to recite in a situation like this. "I protect."

Even if he didn't outright say what his vocation was, you could do more than assume.

Protection could mean many things, like working at one of those security alarm companies to working as a bodyguard for some fancy rich guy, but with one look at the man sitting in front of you, you could tell.

And it was terrifying.

You'd assumed he was some type of bodybuilder when you'd first saw him, but as you recalled his tactical steps as he walked you down the street, the way his hand flew to his belt when you'd pass some creepy looking guy, as if he was expecting something to be hanging from there, it all started to click.

You had two options before you. He was either a fucking mercenary or military. And although both options were terrifying on their own, you hoped to whatever god that was looking down on you that it was the latter. You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself if the father of your sweet baby boy was some type of criminal.

"You protect?" You let out, careful with your words in case you said something that you shouldn't, terrified with the prospect of him getting annoyed or angry now that you had an idea of what he did for a living.

"I protect." He parroted, lifting his hand to shove it into one of the pockets that adorned his jacket, pulling out a slim laminated piece of paper, what you could only assume was some sort of identification. "Here."

You took it hesitantly, flipping it over to scan your eyes over the confusing words that lettered the ID, mostly all words you'd never heard before in your life, but you were smart enough to grasp the concept of it.

"You work in the army?" You question, finger running over his title, repeating his newly discovered last name in your head, cursing at yourself for even thinking of how normal it would sound led by your son's name.

"SAS. Lieutenant. Can't say more than that." His gloved hand came back up to hopefully grab his ID back, but you dodged him, taking a few steps back and flipping it back over so he could see what you were pointing at.

"There's no picture." You finally referred to the black space that filled what was supposed to be a headshot of whichever soldier's ID it was. "How… how do I know this is real?"

You watched the mask move as he furrowed his eyebrows, the hand that had fallen onto his knee now gripped at the cargo pants, his eyes showing the disbelief that shot through his body.

"Y'think I made a fuckin' fake ID?" He grunted out, lifting himself from his spot on the sofa and glowering down at you, who did your best to not stand down almost immediately out of fear of his massive frame. "I don't carry 'round a picture of my face, defeats the whole purpose of my fuckin' mask."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried coming up with some type of rebuttal that would shut him right up, but you ended up once again asking another desperate question.

"That doesn't explain why you were gone."

Silence.

The crickets that sang from downstairs, the sound of the creaking from upstairs with every step one of your neighbours took, the suddenly suffocating feeling of your tiny apartment, everything seemed to increase ten fold with every second that passed.

"I can't tell you much." He leaned his head back, twisting his neck to a side to reveal some of the hair that had grown down to below his chin after a year of not properly shaving, making you look away from what almost seemed like an invasion of privacy.

"Oh, fuck you." You let out an amused scoff, unbelieving that still after everything that had happened in the short amount of time he'd been back, he still refused to say anything. "Go to hell, Simon."

"I was on a fuckin' mission. A long one. I wasn't allowed any devices, like always, so I couldn't get back to you." He looked back at you with a glare that easily rivalled yours, voice rising in volume with each word he spoke, clearly pissed off at how you were acting with him despite having tried to explain himself, but deep down he knew that it was expected from you after what you'd gone through, yet he still couldn't help but feel disappointed deep down.

"Don't raise your fucking voice at me, I'm not the one who's at blame here, Simon!" You shoved a finger into his stiff chest, doing barely as much 'damage' as you pretended to, but you did your best to get your point across.

"I'm not raising my vo-"

A high pitched cry cut through both of your raising voices, Simon's hand immediately going to his belt out of instinct while you whipped your head in the direction of Tommy's room, wincing in both fatigue and shame for having forgotten about your poor, sensitive to noises baby boy.

You put a finger up before Simon could even get the idea of heading there first, an authoritative glare on your face as you grew 10 times braver now that it came to your son's mood and well-being.

"Stay." You hissed, almost like you were reprimanding a mutt instead of a grown man. "Don't fucking follow me."

Once you were sure you'd gotten the message across, you pulled yourself away from his gaze and quickly entered your son's nursery, cooing and shushing at him as you neared his crib.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, duck, I'm sorry." You whispered, carefully picking up his fidgeting body in your arms and pressing him to your chest, rocking him as gently as you could in your told. "Mommy's sorry, she didn't mean to scare you."

His crying didn't cease, only getting louder as you desperately tried to get him to quiet down, terrified of the racket he was no doubt making for the next door neighbours, who'd probably come by tomorrow with some not very nice words.

Your hands were shaking as he still didn't calm down, a shiver running up your spine while goosebumps racked your body as you saw the light that came from the living room be blocked by a large mass of what you could only assume was Simon.

"I told you not to follow." You kept your voice small as he took slow steps towards you, not wanting to agitate Tommy even more than he already was, knowing how enervated you'd be in the morning if that was the case.

"I want to see him."

You bit down on your tongue before you shot out a snappy response, realising that this was not the time nor the place for snarky comments, as much as you wanted Simon to finally get a hint and leave you both alone.

"You haven't even told me his name."

Screwing your eyes closed, you pressed Tommy to your chest a bit tighter, both to calm the two of you down and in an attempt of caging him away from the shadow of a man towering behind you.

"You never asked for it." You felt him stop behind you as you spoke, his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, as if that would finally get you to move so he could see his son.

He stayed silent once again, looking over every single detail in the nursery, from the row of knitted stuffed animals to the plastic fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes trailing over the bookcase that looked a bit too unstable for his liking, the screws too loose to be holding up all that weight properly.

"Did you build these yourself?" Simon watched you turn your head over your shoulder to see what he was referring to, glowering at him crossly as you looked over the furniture.

"Didn't have anyone else to do it, did I?" You snapped, going back to the crying baby in your arms as he continued to look around, gloved fingers running over some of the spines of the books that laid on the shelves, recognising some of them from his own childhood bookshelf.

"You still don't believe me, d'you?"

A beat.

The finalising sound of his footsteps exiting the room made a weight you hadn't realised was pressing on your chest dissipate out of relief, only to come back heavier than ever as he pushed the duffle bag he'd been carrying towards you with his foot.

You looked down at the spilling contents tentatively, almost worried that there was some type of danger in there that would force you to take cover or cower in a corner, but all you found were military pants and clothes, a gun hidden in its holster, and in the hand that slowly appeared in the corner of your vision, dog tags.

"Look." He brought them up closer to your face so you'd be able to see even in the dim lighting that came from the fluorescent stars stuck on the ceiling and the small nightlight, the name engraved in it identical to the one you'd found on the ID. And although most IDs were pretty easy to fake, you were pretty sure dog tags like these weren't. They had the SAS' inscription on them along with a few codes and numbers you were too ignorant about the army to understand; but for all you knew, they could be as fake as the ones some men wore as fashion.

Maybe that still wouldn't have been enough, if it weren't for the gun. England was very strict with gun laws, and the only people you'd ever seen handle one were the police and the military. So he'd either gotten one very illegally or was truly who he said he was.

And as much as you wanted it to all be fake, for him to be the random bloke you'd had sex with that had no connections to anything dangerous, you knew it wasn't. It was blatantly obvious now that he'd laid down everything in front of you like a puzzle, he was telling the truth.

And god, how much you hated it. You hated that the so-called excuse he'd used before was close to being set in stone by now, that everything was falling into place.

"They're real. I promise."

His promises meant nothing to you, and he knew that, but he had to try anything he could for you to finally believe him, to pull down the walls you'd built and let him in.

"..." You looked away from him and his outstretched hand, pulling your still weeping baby closer to you as you debated on what to do, mind torn between two headspaces.

A shaky sight left your lips as he finally started to tone down, his small pudgy hands grabbing at your sweater in an attempt to ground himself, to find a smell and feel he knew brought safety.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

"Why?" It was your turn to repeat what he'd said, turning around fully and allowing him the first proper look at his infant son.

Any feeling of displeasure or uncomfort left Simon's body as his eyes landed on the small boy whose teary eyes were trained on his mother's, soft hands clinging onto her like all hell would break loose if he weren't, pudgy body wrapped up in soft blanket decorated with a tiny duck print, the animal something he'd heard you refer to him as before.

God, he wasn't even listening anymore, too enamoured with the small being that lied in your arms, his hands itching towards him in hopes of taking him in his own.

His stomach sank as you stepped back in tandem with him, shielding Tommy from him like he was a monster.

"I, uhm…" you looked up at him through glassy eyes, clearly having been taken aback by his sudden advance towards you both, ending with you pressed against the wooden crib's side. "I didn't really think about it. It just… felt right. It sounded nice. There isn't really any… meaning behind it, as far as I know."

And that was true, as far as you knew, Tommy was just one of the names you'd underlined in one of the many baby name books your mother had brought over with her. But for Simon, it was oh so much more than that. It brought back memories that he hadn't thought about in a very long time, including those rough times he'd spent cooped up in that godforsaken house trying his best to take care of the only family he had left.

And although he hadn't heard from his brother in a long while, he couldn't help but feel slightly hollow at the simple thought of him, who now unknowingly shared his name with his new nephew.

"...right." Despite everything that was whirling around in his brain, every single memory and doubt he wished he could share without destroying himself inside out, that single word of confirmation was the only thing he could get out.

Tommy let out a whine, small hand tugging at your shirt as he instantly pulled your attention back to him, small body fidgeting in your hold in a way that would make you drop him if you weren't used to his urge to not stay still.

"Yeah, I get it, duck." You said, balancing him carefully in the crook of one of your arms before picking up the half-empty bottle you'd placed next to the crib, knowing he'd wake up within the little time the milk could sit out and demand to be fed with his startling cries. "It's here, don't worry. You're not going to starve."

Simon watched from the shadows as your son immediately latched on to the bottle, acting like he'd been starved for over a week, when his last feeding session had been barely an hour ago.

"He's very greedy." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but looked up at Simon as he let out a humoured exhale.

"Most babies are." He said, remembering how needy his own little brother was when it came to feeding, whining and screaming until everyone in the house had woken up.

Silence fell upon the room, the only conceivable sound in the house being the sound of Tommy drinking and the soft jingle of the crib mobile whenever a soft gust of wind came through the parted window.

For the first time in the hour Simon had been back in your life, you felt calm. Your heartbeat had come down to a normal rate, your body had stopped jolting and shaking every now and then, and there was a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched your son cling to the bottle in your hands.

Even Simon's presence had stopped putting you on edge, since now he was just silently gazing down at his son, who's eyes were fixed back on his father's, almost like they were both having a staring contest, and it was unclear who was about to win.

Tommy normally bursted into tears when he was near a stranger, too many new scents and sounds around him since he was used to the calmer and soother environment that was his nursery, so apart from the short strolls you'd take down the streets, he barely went out with you, and when he did, he didn't get to met many new people. You remember how embarrassed you'd been when one of your neighbours had come by to help with fixing a light and Tommy had started bawling at the mere sight of the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

So it was a bittersweet surprise when you realised he must've taken an instinctual liking to his father, despite not properly having the brain capacity to regard him as such, and although you'd have plenty of time to go over that later, for now, you were relieved that he hadn't turned to wailing as loud as he could and bursting all three of your eardrums (although if Simon did work in what he said he did, you were sure he'd be used to loud noises by now).

"How d'you pay for all this?"

"What?" You said, the calm expression that had graced your face quickly forming back into the pissed one he'd gotten so used to seeing in the past hour, the innocent yet aggravating question instantly spoiling your mood. "What do you fu- what do you mean?"

"The furniture, the clothes, the nappies." He nodded towards every single thing he listed, only adding onto your annoyance even more. "Where d'you work?"

You snapped your head down to Tommy in order to avoid his damaging questions, meeting the cute scene of your son fast asleep, probably having passed out after such a long staring contest with his dad and finally having a full belly. You ignored the weight of your impending answer as you placed him down carefully back into his crib, letting his chubby cling onto your fingers for a bit before slowly wrenching his grip off, turning back around to his father.

"I don't work. Not anymore." You kept your voice hushed, picking up the empty baby bottle along with a bag of dirty nappies, standing next to the doorway until he got the memo to walk out before you. "Got fired from the bar cause I was too distracted and I messed a lot of things up…. Had to use my savings to pay for everything during my pregnancy."

He watched you walk around the kitchen and put everything away like it was routine, like it was some sort of art that you'd perfected, while thinking over the information he'd just received from you.

He felt horrible. The mere thought of you, pregnant and alone with no job able to support you, working on the crib and nursery on your own was enough to tear his cold heart in two. And he didn't even want to think about how much money you had left, which by the sight of the very expensive-looking cot and all the toys that laid strewn across the bedroom floor, wasn't much.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto one of the walls and thought about the next words that were going to leave his mouth, the next words that would either end up with you both growing closer together or you continuing to push him away.

"Let me help you."

You stopped dead in your tracks while rearranging one of the cupboards, turning around with a look of disbelief painted on your face, beyond bewildered at what he was even starting to proffer.

"Help me?"

Simon had more money than he knew what to do with. Albeit, a small part of it was sent to his brother and his family at the end of every few months, he was still left with a huge amount of money he didn't really know what to spend it on apart from on the bottles of alcohol that littered the floor of his apartment.

But now that he'd learned about his own family, seen the state your flat was in despite you trying to save face by decorating it as much as you could, about as much information as you had given out about your financial situation, he finally knew what to do with all that money that was left over.

"Help you. Financially. Tommy's my son too." Simon raised a gloved hand up as he watched your mouth open, immediately shutting you up like a teacher would a student. "As much as you want to deny it, s'true. And I'm going to help you." His finger landed on the small island counter, accentuating his point with every word he spoke. "Whether you like it or not."

Now, you'd be bellow stupid to even refuse an offer like this (even though he'd made it quite clear it wasn't an offer, more like an insistence), especially since your bank account was quickly reaching negative numbers with every day that passed, not a lot of jobs being open to a new mother who'd either have to take her baby everywhere or leave between shifts to take care of him (and a nanny was of course out of the question, with what money would you pay them?); and pushing aside your still initial distrust towards him, you couldn't say no to him. Both, because he wouldn't let you and because you needed the help, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

Very deep down, you wanted to say no, to push him out of the flat like you should've done when he had first taken a step inside, that he'd had his chance with both Tommy and you and that his bloody stupid excuses weren't going to work… but god, would you have been a moron to even consider letting those words leave your mouth.

You closed the cabinet shut, turning around to face him properly despite the absolute nerves that were coursing through your body, looking out the window across from you instead of at the imposing figure of the man standing before you.

"Simon, I… Look, just…." You tried changing subject, grasping at straws in order to keep yourself from falling to your knees and thanking him for helping you, to break down again like you'd done within the first quarter hour of seeing him again. "...thank you."

He didn't reply, only nodding in response as he turned away from you, letting you stare at his back as he cocked his head to a side to subtly look into Tommy's room, your small baby boy still fast asleep with his clingy hands holding onto one of the many toys you'd placed in there for him to stay entertained with.

"It's, uhm… it's getting quite late." You pointed out as you looked back out the window, rain pattering against your window as another one of England's classic showers hit your city, your arms wrapping around your torso and running your hands up and down the exposed skin. "How about we just… call it a day and talk about it tomorrow?"

Simon grunted, shrugging his shoulders like he really didn't care, but before you had chance to comment on it, he spoke over his shoulder, his head tilted in a way that the shadows curved around the balaclava covering up his face, his blue eyes slightly brighter than when he'd first shown up.

"I've got some stuff to attend to tomorrow." He muttered, nodding towards the duffle bag that he'd brought out with him when you'd both left the nursery, indicating that he wasn't fully finished with work. "It'll be a while 'till I'm able to just sit down with you."

God, you hated how much fear that single sentence struck in you. Like almost the thought of him leaving for more than a day after finally showing up and explaining everything to you was enough to raise up the anxiety that wrapped around your chest and travelled across every single nerve in your system.

So fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself before looking over at the sofa, the new one you'd bough and arranged yourself a few months into your pregnancy, when you were barely showing and could still handle physical work like that; remembering how much the salesman had insisted on that the pullout was the best option for when you had guests over, it was moderately comfy and big enough to fit up to two people.

And Simon kind of… He kind of counted for two people, right? With that bloody stature of his and his darned accentuated muscles you'd been so in awe of that fateful night.

"You can just take the sofa for tonight. Then we can talk in the morning before you leave." Your mouth acted faster than your brain did, but this time, you didn't really feel embarrassed or disappointed in yourself, I mean, it was the logical solution to this sort of problem. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted to be in his son's life, so if that was true, you'd have to get used to him being around you, invading the safe space you'd worked so hard to create for you and your son, as much as it tore your body and mind apart thanks to your mixed feelings about him.

"You sure?" He pushed himself off the doorframe which he'd been leaning on, getting back to his full height so he could tower over you, glancing at the tiny sofa. "You think I'll fit?"

"It pulls out." Unlike you. "You'll fit."

Once again, it seemed that he couldn't even get the words out to thank you, nodding in response before turning back to look at his sleeping son in the nursery's background. You pushed past him to get to the cupboard that sat in the corner, rummaging through it for some relatively clean and warm blankets, keeping an ear out just in case decided to walk a bit too close to Tommy, still a bit on edge when it came to him spending time around your son.

"D'you have a balcony I can use?" He cut through the silence, dangling a packet of cigarettes in front of your face to make his advances clear.

Although you weren't a chronic smoker yourself, you had indulged in a cig once in a while, and you knew that it sometimes did help soothe your anxiety or stress, and by the looks of how Simon was fidgeting in his spot and his fingers were clearly itching towards the lighter in his pocket, it was quite clear he was in need of one.

"I don't. Use the window furthest from Tommy's room." You pointed out of the room towards the window you'd been staring out of before. You watched him stroll out, opening up the window and letting in a gust of cold wind in the process, making you speed up your work so you could close the door faster and Tommy wouldn't get a chill.

"You can't smoke around Tommy, you know that, right? If you're really going to be in his life, I'm going to need you to quit while you're here." You commented as you placed down the blankets onto an armchair before moving onto the sofa bed itself, removing some of the cushions before resuming.

"'lright." He muttered between a few inhales of the smoke, his voice much clearer now that he'd pulled his mask up to his nose, letting you gaze upon the beard that had grown over his lower face, something that hadn't been there before. But you assumed that a year-long mission wouldn't really allow you to take time to shave. "Jus' really needed this."

"I get it." You grunted as you grabbed onto the flimsy handle at the bottom and pulled out the second part of the sofa's mattress, almost landing on your behind if it weren't for one of Simon's hands on the small of your back, helping you regain your balance before he went back to taking puffs of his cigarette next to the window.

Soon enough, Simon's cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it out the window and down onto the concrete below, turning back around to where you were finishing up what would be his bed tonight, tucking in some of the ends of the sheets and stuffing pillows into covers.

"Here." He spoke, his voice back to being muffled as he pulled the mask back down, taking the pillow from your hands and pushing it into the cover without any effort.

"Pillows might be a bit stiff. These are really old." You didn't even bother thanking him, taking the pillows and fluffing them up to the best of your ability, before propping them up on the armrest. "Do you want to, uhm." You gestured towards the black smudged paint around his eyes. "Clean up?"

"It's fine. I've slept worse."

He started to pull off his jacket, his shirt going with it for a moment and exposing his midriff and happy trail, immediately snapping your head away from the sight.

That's how Simon ended lying on the pretty well made sofa, shoes and jacket discarded next to him with a thin blanket draped over his tired body, balaclava still resting over his face despite being plunged in the darkness that was broken whenever a car passed by outside or by the soft glow of his son's fluorescent stars that decorated his ceiling.

Simon was aware of how long he'd gone without having a good night's sleep, that he should at least try to catch a few minutes of sleep at best, but he couldn't find the energy to even close his eyes. He knew that after such a long and exciting mission his body had to come down from it slowly, taking a few days of getting used to the sudden serenity that enveloped him before he could fully relax and find some sleep.

And so he lied there, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the snores that came from his son's room and the shuffling and incoherent murmurs that came from yours, the constant affirmation that you both were fine enough of a substitute for the sleep he was missing.

And he was… content like that, for a while. Listening to the both of you sleep and tapping his fingers against his chest in an attempt to ground himself and to shove away any unwanted thoughts that would forcibly make their way into his already broken mind.

Until one of the cars outside backfired, a sound Simon had gotten used to after driving all those barely working cars they'd find in the way during missions, producing a sound that echoed throughout the living room, making Simon instinctively flinch, his fingers gripping down on the blanket hard enough to rip it, not having expected to hear a sound so akin to a bomb or a grenade while he was lying down calmly near his newfound family.

Fuck, he was pathetic. It was horrible how such an innocent sound made his instincts go haywire, his skin prickle with goosebumps and his heart skip a beat.

But clearly, as Tommy's cries rang out through the flat, he hadn't been the only one to be disturbed.

"Fuck." The blanket pooled down onto the floor next to his discarded clothes, pushing himself off the sofa and passing by your bedroom, where you were still presumably sleeping, your body wriggling beneath the covers as your brain attempted to keep you asleep.

You'd mentioned that Tommy had gone down easily this time, so it was relatively early for yourself to go to bed, and he'd heard you mutter to yourself as you climbed into bed that you were going to enjoy your rest, so staying on the sofa and waiting for you to wake up, was not going to happen, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through with convincing you to let him in Tommy's life.

This was part of being a father, a parent, waking up at ungodly hours of the night to take care of your fussing baby.

He carefully made his way towards Tommy's crib, removing his gloves in order to not scare him with an unknown touch, although he doubted that his calloused fingers would be any better substitute.

"S'alright." He murmured, a finger softly prodding at his chubby belly in order to catch his attention, the boy's wails only getting louder as he caught sight of his father's skulled balaclava. "Oh, fu- Look, hey, look at me."

Without any hesitation, Simon ripped off his mask, his hair getting messed up in the process but he couldn't care less, only focused on getting his son to recognise him as a human man and not the goddamn grim reaper who'd come for him.

Tommy sniffled as he toned down the fussing, blue eyes darting all over his father's face as if committing it to memory, chubby fingers leaning down to grab at the one Simon had woken him up with, and much like he did with any other thing he found lying around, shoved it right in his mouth, drooling around it.

A breathless chuckle escaped Simon's mouth as he watched him roll and fuss around his finger, resting his other arm on the crib and lying his head against it, transfixed with the sight of his small son.

A few tears were still running down his chubby cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down now, Simon's finger acting like some sort of replacement for the pacifier that laid abandoned next to him.

"C'mon. Stop cryin'." He grumbled, pulling his finger out of his grasp and placing his large hands beneath Tommy's small body, carefully picking him up (making sure to support his little head like he'd seen you do) and propping him up in the crook of his arm, letting him squirm around for a bit until he found the perfect position. "You're a wriggly one aren't you?"

As expected, he didn't get any response apart from the thousand yard stare his son looked up at him with, similar to the one he occasionally gave Johnny to watch him freak out. Now that he did look at him closely, he could pinpoint how many features he'd inherited from his father's side, his shaggy hair, his blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, even the chubby rolls and fingers he remembered seeing in his little brother.

"That's a boy." Tommy's eyes started to droop with every second he spent lying in his father's arms, his tears drying out and coos leaving his mouth instead of the agonising cries. "Feelin' better?"

He blindly walked over to the small chair he'd spotted in the corner of the room when he'd first walked in, grunting like his grandfather did as he sat down, careful to not squish or drop Tommy in the process, his hands tightening around him as the chair slightly reclined, the chair's feature catching him off guard and instantly activating the instinct to protect the small human in his arms that depended on him.

But Tommy didn't even flinch, giggling at the warmth that enveloped him and snuggling further into the blanket and his father's arms in the process, eyes still fixed on the dark paint that adorned his father's.

Finally, after their second staring match of the night, Tommy's eyelids finally closed, losing the battle and falling prey to sleep, something Simon silently wished he could too. Resting him in one arm, he pulled his balaclava back down, feeling a bit too exposed now that the need to have it off had ceased. He leaned his head back on the rest and stared up at the dim glowing stars, focusing on the steady breaths that racked his son's tiny body and the faint feeling of his heartbeat against his arm.

He could… he could really get used to this.

Having such a small thing in his arms, something he was responsible for, something he was supposed to love and care for, a purpose to continue the dangerous life he'd thrusted himself in. He was a father now. And although he knew barely nothing about being one, he'd learn. He hoped it wasn't a one time thing and that Tommy had truly taken a liking to him, that he was going to be able to take at least a bit off the load that you carried by helping in whatever way he could, whether it was bonding with his on or simply financially if that's all you wished of him.

He was a bit too lost in his thoughts as he reclined further in the plush chair, pressing Tommy to his chest so he was half lying on him, half still resting in his arms, a pretty comfortable position for the both of them.

"-mon."

"Simon!"

The blond was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking him, his immediate instinct being to search around for the baby he remembered falling asleep with, blurry vision darting around to find him cooing and gurgling in your arms, hands latched onto your sleep shirt.

He turned to look out the window while cracking his neck, disoriented and confused about what time it was, the subtle sun rays that shone through the clouds and into the nursery telling him enough.

Had he fallen asleep? Like, actually slept for over an hour without waking up or any disturbances?

"'m sorry." His voice was deeper after a good night's rest, you noted as he rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm in an attempt to clear the blurriness, choosing to ignore the click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "Time?"

"'bout eight." You said, bouncing Tommy in your arms as you nodded towards the clock that hung up above him, eyes darting back down to see him hunched over, hands beneath his balaclava rubbing away the sleep in his eyes and no doubt spreading the face paint everywhere. "Tommy needs to have breakfast so I just assumed you'd want to be woken up as well. But, you're, uhm, welcome to sleep longer, I guess."

"No, I'm fine. I have to get up." Within a second, he was at his feet, Tommy staring up at him in awe as if he were gazing upon a giant, one of his chubby hands leaving your shirt to try and grab onto his, but Simon had left before he could even make first contact.

"You stayed here to talk, remember?" You said snappily at him as you followed, watching him pick up all his stuff. "We should talk."

His shoulders deflated mid tying his boot, a solemn nod in response like even talking to you was a chore, and after the night you'd had the day before, any little irritating thing like that was going to be enough to set you off.

"I want to be a part of Tommy's life. I've made that clear."

"I know. And that's… fine. But we're going to need boundaries."

He sighed, turning around with his other boot dangling from his hand, leaning his side on the wall opposite what had been supposed to be his bed for the night (the horror you'd felt when you saw him gone and your son's door open was unmeasurable), and nodding once again, eyes looking down at you expectantly.

Oh. Right. You were the one speaking.

"Well, for starters… if you really can't tell me more about your job than you already have, I want you to at least keep me updated whenever you leave for work. I.. I don't want any more surprises."

I don't want to feel the way I felt during that year again.

"Alright."

You nodded, pulling Tommy closer as he became enamoured with the necklace that dangled from your neck, trying his mighty best to pull the charm in his mouth as you talked. "And, if you stay over, you take the couch. And not taking Tommy out without me. Until… further notice." You feared you were being a bit too strict with him, but simply reminding yourself that this was in fact, basically a stranger who just happened to father your child, and you'd have to take preventive measures until you were sure that you could leave Tommy alone with him.

Simon ignored the slight pain that stabbed at his heart when you said that, but… it was understandable. You'd been with Tommy longer than him, hell, you'd carried him for a whole 9 months, you had a stronger bond with your son than he had. For both of your safety and his, he'd go along with anything you'd say.

After agreeing with a simple nod and finishing tying up his shoes, he walked up to you both, fingers brushing against your clavicle as he pulled your necklace out of Tommy's mouth, blue eyes fixated on yours. "Send me your bank details later. I'll deposit some money for you both. As much as you need."

He hesitated a few moments before pulling his fingers away, instead running them down Tommy's nose bridge before pulling away, pulling a giggle out of him.

"O-okay."

He nodded, leaning down to zip up his duffle bag before strapping it over his shoulder, jacket in his other arm since it was relatively warm outside for a morning in Manchester. "Text me if y'need anything. I'll answer this time… I promise."

You winced, the subject of his disappearance still a touchy matter despite everything you'd both discussed the night before, but by the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he was awkwardly standing in the main corridor, he was either very obviously lying or telling the truth.

You hoped it was the latter.

"...okay. Goodbye, Simon."

The moment the door opened, the doorbell rang out, making you and Tommy flinch at the loud sound and Simon grumble at being the main victim of the ringer.

Your neighbour was standing there, finger on the bell, furrowed eyebrows glaring up at the intimidating man.

"Good morning?" You poked your head around Simon's large frame, Tommy hiding his face in the crook of your neck as if able to sense the confrontation about to happen. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, just. I think I speak for everyone in this building that we'd appreciate it if you'd keep that baby o'yours quiet once in a while. Barely gotten any sleep these days 'cause of his bloody crying." He frowned, glaring down at the baby in question, as if he was truly to blame for something he was barely able to control. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, having remembered that you'd already expected this last night when Tommy had burst into tears the first time, and then the second time when you were asleep.

"Right, I'm s-"

"Babies cry." Ghost interrupted, glare fixed on the man in front of you both, hand tightening around the doorframe much like when he'd been trying to convince you to let him in. "Y'can't really help it."

"Well you can shut him up-"

"And we did. Wondering if I'm going to need to do the same to you." He said gruffly, almost puffing his chest out of pride when he saw the man's colour drain from his face. It was a bit of a shitty rebuttal, in hindsight, but when it came from the beast of a man that he was, it was enough to make a grown man like the one in front of him piss his pants. "'m I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sorted." He watched the neighbour scurry off back into his apartment like a bug of sorts, turning back to you with an amused glint in his normally inexpressive eyes. "Bother you often?"

"Yeah." You said breathlessly, actually impressed with how quickly he'd been able to get rid of him, like your own personal pest exterminator. "Thank you."

"He won't anymore." He stepped out into the hall, sparing you and your son one last glance before awkwardly lifting his hand up in an attempt to say goodbye, Tommy immediately trying to reach over to him with a plump hand, fingers flexing as if trying to use the force to pull his dad back.

"He'll be back, duck, don't worry… he's not leaving."

Ghost pressed the button to the elevator, willing himself enough strength to not turn around immediately at the sounds of his soon cooing and whining at him, the soft words you spoke plunging a spear into his cold heart.

He'd be back. He promised.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @warrior-of-justice @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker (if your name is in italics it means I couldn't tag you!)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 months ago

Text

To The One I Love - Part 9

Series Masterlist

➪in which you’re hit with countless memories all at once, and then are sent into a full blown panic attack when you can’t reach tyler, who, unbeknownst to you, is just as shaken up as you are.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

A loud cry left your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, the pounding in your head never faltering, even as the last thing you remembered before you lost your memory flashed behind your closed eyelids.

“Tyler,” you whimpered, weakly opening your eyes again as you recalled every ‘I love you’, every single time Tyler called you beautiful, every moment lost between the sheets of the very same king-sized bed he was holding you in just this morning, all of it.

It was like the missing pieces were finally snapping into place, and it hurt a bit as your head felt like it was ten sizes too big.

Every date, every kiss, every chase. It all came rushing back to you as if you had never forgotten about any of it in the first place.

You remembered looking at this very house with him, then throwing yourself in his arms when he bought it for you. The many times you and he went camping just for the hell of it. The countless times you’d found yourself literally in the middle of a tornado with him by your side.

Every single moment that made your relationship so strong and so…long-lasting.

You remembered the bad times, the arguments, the times you told him to sleep on the couch, but then went out and brought him to bed with you after half an hour of laying by yourself.

Even though you hadn’t said it to him since getting hurt, you loved Tyler with every fiber of your being. You didn’t need to remember the last eleven years in vivid detail to know that he was your forever person, but you were so happy you did, because every moment with him was amazing and damn near precious to you.

When the pounding in your head finally calmed down a bit, you slowly blinked and let your hands fall down to your lap. The blanket you had on your thighs was on the floor now, and the pillow you were leaning against was on the cushion next to yours. You had no idea how long you had been holding your head in pain, but when you looked up and saw the words ‘Live Stream Has Ended’ sprawled across the TV screen, you panicked.

Were you really out of it for that long? For an entire, usually forty minute, stream? You didn’t even know what time the stream started, so you couldn’t use that knowledge to figure it out as you looked around for your phone you had dropped when you remembered exactly what caused your memory loss almost three weeks ago.

What if something had happened to him while you were hit with your memories like a freight train? What if he didn’t end the stream, but it got disconnected because he got caught up in something?

Irrational thoughts swarmed around your already full head, and it just made it pound more as you quickly got up from the couch, your whole body tensed up from nerves and anxiety.

Your hands were shaking when you finally found your phone, half under the couch and hidden by the blanket. You clicked on Tyler’s contact and waited for him to pick up, and you knew he never let it get to the third ring whenever you called, so when it went to the fifth and then to his voicemail, you were panicking even more.

He said that he’d have his phone on him the whole time and that you could call him if you needed anything, but he wasn’t picking up. Why wasn’t he picking up?

When you called him two more times, your nerves were shot and you were sweating a bit as your heart pounded. Not knowing what else to do, you called Lilly and had tears in your eyes that quickly spilled once she picked up with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Lilly,” you gasped, holding your phone to your ear with sweaty palms as you looked at the TV screen that still showed the same message as before. “I’m…where’s…where is he? Where’s Tyler? What happened to him?”

You fired questions at her before she could even think of the answer to any of them, your vision blurred as you heard her mumble something to someone on the other end of the line.

“Lilly, please!” You begged, crying softly as you paced around your living room that was filled with yours and Tyler’s things. “I need him. I need to see him! I need to talk to him, Lilly, please. Please, tell me he’s there with you.”

Lilly quietly hushed you, and the background noise faded a bit before she spoke up again, “He’s not here, Y/n/n,” she said and it made your heart beat even faster. “He’s on his way to you right now, okay? He’s on his way home. Talk to me, tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You couldn’t process her words as you moved to sit on the floor, your watery eyes glued to the flat screen. “I need him,” you whimpered, “I need him, Lilly. Tell me he’s okay. Please, I need him to be okay and I need him here. I need him here with me.”

“Shh, hey, he’s on his way, yeah? He’s comin’,” she said, but it was like you couldn’t bring yourself to really listen to her words, let alone believe them. “Tell me what’s goin’ on, Y/n. You remember somethin’?”

You sniffled and leaned back against the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I remember all of it,” you whispered, “Every bit of it. And then it was over, and it ended, and he’s still not here and he didn’t answer his phone. Lilly, please. Is he okay?”

The connection was spotty, and you weren’t sure if it was because the weather was still bad or not, but when you could no longer hear Lilly’s attempts at calming you down or hear why Tyler didn’t answer his phone, you dropped yours and began pacing around the living room with tears still rolling down your face.

But then you heard the sound of the truck you loved so much outside the house, and you practically yanked the front door open and ran out into the rain.

The weather was absolutely terrible, but the tornado itself wasn’t that bad.

It pretty much dissolved completely less than fifteen minutes after it had formed, but Tyler was kind of glad since he hadn’t chased in a few weeks up until that point, so it was a nice way to ease back into it.

With that being said, he hadn’t planned on dropping his phone in between the seats of his truck when he made it back to the lot, and his hand was far too big to reach it by the time he heard the sound of your ringtone.

He told you to call him if you needed him, and you had called him three times before never calling him again, but he didn’t have the time to worry before Lilly came over to where he was halfway under the steering wheel, trying to shove his hand under the seat of his truck.

When she told him that you were on the phone pretty much freaking out and rambling on and on, he forgot about his task of retrieving his own phone and immediately started the truck to drive back home to you.

Tyler was a bit terrified that something bad had happened to you in the forty minutes he was gone, and he would never forgive himself if your injury worsened and he wasn’t there for you.

While he tried to not think the worse, he couldn’t help it. You were fine when he left you, but now you were apparently losing your mind on the phone with Lilly. What did he miss? He had no idea, but his heart was in his throat as he carelessly drove through the heavy rain all the way back home.

When he finally pulled into the dirt driveway, the truck was barely in park before he was pushing the door open at the same time the front door to the house swung open. Tyler instantly became soaked from the rain, as did you as you ran over to him and threw yourself into his arms.

You were shaking, but it wasn’t because you were cold from the rain. No, you were crying, hard, and he wrapped you up tightly and held you firmly against his chest as he tried to think of what could’ve possibly made you this worked up. “Y/n,” he murmured, trying to pull back just enough to look at you properly, but you just cried harder and hugged him tighter. “Baby, hey, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Tyler,” you whimpered, clinging onto the front of his drenched shirt as you pressed your face against the side of his neck. “You’re okay…you’re-you’re okay. You’re here. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” he echoed, tangling his fingers in your wet hair. “I’m sorry, I dropped my-”

“Why didn’t you answer?” You cut him off as you tighten your grip on his shirt. “I called you…I called you, why didn’t you pick up?”

You were hyperventilating now, and he was panicking a bit as he held you against his body. He didn’t know why you didn’t think he was fine or safe, but he didn’t prioritize that right now. Your body was already cold, and your tears were mixing with the harsh rain drops, and he needed to get you out of this weather. “Okay, baby,” he mumbled, “Let’s get you inside, yeah? Come on, let’s-”

“I remember everything,” you cut him off, and those three words had his own body freezing up.

“What?” Tyler’s hands gripped your shoulders tighter as he processed your words, and his eyes were wide and vulnerable as he pried your body away from his to be able to look at your full face. Your pretty irises were rimmed with red and he could see the tears on your water lines, and his heart felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest. “You…you remember everythin’? Are you serious?”

You nodded instantly, reaching up to grip his wrists as you sobbed. “I remember it all. I remember the accident, the storm…our first night here,” you gave him a teary laugh that had his own eyes burning as he felt his mouth curve into a big, relieved smile. “All of it.”

Tyler hadn’t felt this overjoyed in so long, and he almost forgot what it felt like to be completely and utterly happy. Even as he stood with you under the pouring rain that would most likely give him a cold soon. But he didn’t get the chance to tell you just how fucking happy you had just made him before you were telling him the words he’d been dying to hear from you for weeks now.

“I love you,” you whimpered, your hands tightening on his wrists as you looked up at him with unguarded eyes. “I love you so much, Ty. I always have and I promise you I always will. I love you.”

And that was when he felt like he could finally breathe again. Like the hole in his heart was entirely filled in and fixed.

And then he was gripping your face and leaning down to press his lips to yours in a deep kiss. And then you were kissing him back.

Even though kissing had just been re-introduced into your relationship as of this morning, kissing you like this is what Tyler had been craving for weeks.

His thumbs pressed into your soft cheeks as the rest of his fingers caressed your jaw, kissing you as if you held the last breath of air left in the world between your lips, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop.

He missed you. Every fucking part of you. And although your memories were back, he knew that even though it felt like it, he had never actually lost you. You were always right there by his side, so trusting and willing so damn perfect in every way. You were never gone.

Tyler had no idea how long you and he made out in the rain for, but eventually he got you back inside and into the living room. Wanting to spare the couch from getting soaked, you and Tyler stumbled your way around it and ended up sprawled out on the floor, your bodies only cushioned by a blanket that was already there.

But he was comfortable and completely content, because he had you.

“You really remember everythin’?” He asked in between kisses as he gently pressed you against the floor with his weight. “All of it?”

You nodded, running your fingers through his wet hair in the exact same way you always did before. “All of it,” you mumbled, still holding onto him like you were terrified he’d disappear if you were to let go.

Tyler closed his eyes and buried his face against your cold neck, his lips peppering soft kisses along your skin. “What happened the first time we ever went campin’?” he asked, still not entirely convinced that this wasn’t a dream, that you truly did remember every moment he held close to his heart.

“We brought every single thing we needed except for bug spray, and ended up ditching the tent to sleep on the backseat of the truck because we were both getting eaten alive by mosquitoes,” you answered and Tyler felt a warmth spread all over his body.

His clothes were soaked and stuck to his skin, and he was cold, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking another question, “What about your twenty-fifth birthday?”

You smiled up at him and bumped your nose gently against his. “You surprised me with a trip to Paris since I’d been talking about going there since I was sixteen,” you replied, “But when we got there, we couldn’t understand anything since we both cheated off of Kevin Adams on every test in our French class, so we didn’t actually learn the language.”

That one made Tyler laugh, because you even remembered the poor kid’s name who was oblivious to the way Tyler would purposely sit behind him in class so he could look over his shoulder for the answers he’d share with you after.

“Our fourth anniversary?” He asked in a whisper as he pulled away to look you in the eyes. You looked so pretty, your hair damp and tangled, your eyes glassy and your lips puffy. God, he adored you more than anything else in the entire world.

Your expression softened as your thumbs tugged at his bottom lip. “We got wasted at a dive bar after using our ID’s for the first time, then ended up celebrating it properly the day after by going out to dinner and then a showing of The Sixth Sense at the drive in,”

Tyler groaned quietly, leaning in to press his lips to yours as he mumbled, “You’re so perfect, baby,” then he began to press kisses all along your neck. “Every single part of you.”

Your soft moan was music to his ears and it heated up his cold body with just that. Your fingers tangled in his hair again as he pressed countless kisses to your neck and shoulders, and he was totally fine with staying like that for the rest of the day, but you had a different idea. “Ty,” you murmured, “Take me to bed.”

He grinned against your skin, not lifting his head as he asked, “Feelin’ tired, baby?”

Tyler would gladly have a late afternoon nap with you in bed, but that wasn’t what you had in mind, clearly, as your next words had him freezing up in a completely different way. “No, not like that…I want to feel you, baby,” you whispered, and he hadn’t heard you call him that in what felt like forever, but he couldn’t even focus on that part when you just offered yourself to him so sweetly. “All of you.”

He pulled back to look into your pretty eyes, and one of his hands came up to gently caress your cheek. “Baby…are you sure you’re ready for that?” He asked quietly, his eyes flickering to where your stitches used to be before meeting yours again. “Your heads a mess right now, and you just got your stitches taken out.”

You gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug, “Guess you’ll just have to be extra gentle with me?”

And he knew he would do anything you wanted him to do if you asked him exactly like that.

So he nodded and stood up, offering you his hand. He laced his fingers with yours and led you down the hall to your bedroom, his hold on you so soft, he couldn’t remember a time he was this gentle with you after your relationship hit the one year mark. Things were so new back then, you and he were still exploring each other. But now he knows you like the back of his hand. He knew your body better than his own.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Tyler paused, unsure of where to go from here. He wasn’t nervous or uncertain, he wanted this just as much as you did, but he was scared that he’d push you too far, that he’d mess up somehow.

And you seemed to realize that as you reached out and unbuttoned his shirt before peeling the damp fabric away from his chilled body that somehow also felt like it was on fire. You moved onto your shirt, and he watched with hooded eyes as you pulled it off and dropped it onto the floor next to his, leaving your top half bare.

Even though he’s seen you naked thousands of times, you looked more beautiful every single time he got to see you like this. You were just so effortlessly stunning, inside and out, and he still couldn’t believe that he was the person that gets to see every inch of you like this for the rest of your lives.

When you stepped towards him again, Tyler leaned back down and kissed you, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he eased you down onto the bed. His body covered yours entirely, his hips settling in between your thighs as he deepened the kiss. And even though you were never gone, he couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “I missed you so much,”

Because, really, he missed you all the time. When he got up earlier than you did and left you in bed to rest more, when he had to run out into town to do errands, when he had to wait outside the dressing room while you tried on things, even though you always showed him your possible new outfit less than a minute after leaving his side.

“I’m here,” you whispered, stroking his face with your fingers, your thumbs brushing along his stubble. “I’m right here, Ty.”

His fingers wrapped around one of your wrists and brought your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, then to your palm. “You’re everythin’,” he murmured, “My whole world, baby. I love you so much.”

He barely got to see the big grin that took over your lips before he was leaning down and pressing a kiss to your mouth. “Please,” you whimpered when he pulled back and began placing kisses along your jawline and down your throat. He missed kissing you like this, touching you like this, physically showing you just how much he loved you. “I need you, Ty.”

Tyler reached down to pull at the string of your sweats before pushing them down your legs, his fingers hooking into the thin fabric of your panties as well to leave you completely bare to his eyes. “My sweet girl,” he mumbled, connecting your lips again as his hand slid down your body until his fingers brushed against your wetness, and he slowly worked you open.

It had been weeks since he last did this with you, so you were a bit tighter down there than usual because of the lack of intimacy. But he got you there, ensuring that there would be no pain when he slid himself inside your sweet, wet walls he’s always had a craving for ever since the first time in that motel room.

Tyler’s lips broke away from yours to pepper kisses along your collar bones. His free hand came up to cover your soft breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardened under his touch. “Tell me when you’re ready, baby,” he mumbled against your skin as he felt your arousal coat his fingers.

Your soft whine met his ears as your head fell back on the bed. “Now…now,” you answered, reaching up to grip his shoulders tightly. “Now, baby. I need you.”

Tyler slowly pulled his fingers from your tight heat before giving himself a few strokes as he positioned himself at your entrance. When just his tip slipped inside, he groaned and held back from fully thrusting. You were tight, like always, but more than usual, like he suspected. “God, babe,” he muttered, pressing his face against the side of your neck as he slowly slid all the way inside you, holding still to let your body readjust to him.

His hands framed your face, his lips pressing gently against the red line on your head that still looked a bit sore from the removal of your stitches. He briefly wondered if that stupid doctor’s roughness might have played a part in the return of your memories, but when he gave a slow roll of his hips, his mind became focused solely on you.

Tyler pressed a few more, barely-there kisses to your head before looking back down at you, his brows furrowed as he started to rock into you. “All mine,” he rasped, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones.

You whimpered in response, gripping his wrists as you gazed up at him with the same look of pure adoration you’ve given him for the last eleven years. “Yours,” you confirmed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Tyler kissed you deeply, seemingly unable to keep his hands and lips off you for even a second right now. He withdrew himself until only an inch remained before sliding back inside your tightness, low groans leaving the back of his throat with each thrust.

He wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t trying to get you off as fast as possible right now. He wanted to savor every heavenly drag of his body against yours, the familiar feeling of your snug core gripping his cock, the way each thrust pushed him deeper and deeper. It all felt better than anything else in the world, like it always did.

“So good, baby,” he praised in a low voice, sliding one hand around you to grip your lower back, tilting your hips to allow him to push himself even deeper. His other hand gripped the headboard above you for leverage as he let the feeling of being back inside you take him over. “I love you so damn much.”

“Oh, God,” you gasped, your eyes closing as you let him completely worship your body in all the ways he did before your accident. “I love you too. So much.”

It was as if both of you couldn’t stop saying it at this point, and Tyler felt his eyes sting with tears at just how fucking happy he was in this moment. Here, with you, he felt weightless. And only you had ever made him feel like this.

Still, he didn’t want you to see the tears that threatened to escape his eyes, even though he knew you’d never judge him. He buried his face against your shoulder, his harsh and deep groans muffled against your heated skin.

It was safe to say that both of you were warmed up now.

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunted, angling your body so he could grind his hips more firmly against yours. “I need you to cum first, baby. I need to feel you.”

“Ty,” you whined, your head falling back on the pillow as you cried out so beautifully. He felt it when you came around him, and the feeling was so deliciously familiar, his pace began to falter as you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders. “God, yes, baby.”

That was all it took to send Tyler over the edge as well. His body shuddered as he came, his hips stilling against yours as he groaned against your neck as he filled you up.

Instead of collapsing against you like he normally would, he eased your body back down onto the bed and hovered over you, his fingers gently brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around you as he was quite literally unwilling to let you go right now.

You nodded with a lazy smile, reaching up to rub his lower lip with your thumb. “Ty,” you started, your other hand smoothing out his messy hair as your chest heaved with uneven breaths. “I know why I couldn’t bring myself to say yes whenever you proposed to me.”

Those words had his eyes widening a bit, not expecting that to be the first thing out of your mouth once your breathing was relatively back to normal. “Really?” He rasped, cradling your head in his hands. “Why?”

Your face reddened a bit as you gave him an embarrassed smile. “I was scared,” you whispered. “It’s so, so stupid, but…growing up and hearing about all the marriages that ended in divorce or how they made people hate each other…it freaked me out. It’s so stupid because I know our relationship is different from everyone else’s, but I was terrified of ruining what we have.”

That was a bit surprising, because he hadn’t thought about that at all. Not once did he think that getting married would change things so drastically to the point where he would begin to loathe you instead of love you unconditionally. But it made sense to be scared of it. He’d also heard his fair share of failed marriage stories, he was just never phased by them because he knew he would be happy for the rest of his life as long as he had you by his side.

“But I know that we’re stronger than that,” you added before he could say anything, “I mean, we made it through me losing my memory. That makes us pretty damn strong, I think.”

Tyler grinned at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “Yeah, we are pretty damn strong, baby,” he nodded, “It took you gettin’ this pretty head all banged up to realize that?”

You blushed and buried your face against the side of his neck. “No, I always knew it,” you whispered, “And I promise, if you ever want to ask me again, I’ll say yes. Because I’m ready and I’m not scared anymore. I’m never scared with you, Ty. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you.”

There was the second time you had told him that in a week, and Tyler felt like he was on cloud nine. Everything he could possibly ever want is right here in his arms, and you just told him you’re ready for what he had been dreaming of doing for years now.

What better time than now to make it official? “Well, if you say so,” he murmured, keeping one hand on the swell of your back as he reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out the black box that’s been in there for a long time now. He held the small box in his palm, looking down at you with a hesitant smile, despite everything you had just said. “Baby…will you marry me?” He whispered, hoping like hell that this would be the last time he asked you this.

Your eyes glazed over as you took the box from his hand, and you opened it, revealing the radiant shaped diamond ring he’d picked out so long ago now. You pressed your lips together and nodded, pulling the ring free and sliding it onto your finger without saying a word.

Tyler felt his own eyes tear up again when you grinned up at him and gripped his face in your hands, the cool metal of your new permanent piece of jewelry pressing against his warm skin. “Yes,” you murmured, nodding again after, and Tyler leaned down to press a deep kiss to your lips.

He groaned against your mouth when shifted his hips and finally pulled out of you, his body still pressing yours against the bed. “I love you so much, baby. Forever and ever and ever,” he mumbled, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips before his eyes opened quickly and he pulled away from you as he realized something rather serious. “Oh fuck…baby, we didn’t use a condom and you haven’t been takin’ your pill…fuck, we just did that with no protection.”

But even as he said those life changing words, he didn’t feel scared or nervous, because he knew he wanted to start a family with you one day, that was a given, and he was ready when you were.

Still, he knew now that you were ready for marriage, but had no clue if you were on board with starting a family, well…now, if you ended up getting pregnant from this.

But then you smiled up at him and shrugged, “We’ve had scarier things happen to us,” and he knew that without a doubt, he would be spending the rest of his days with you, where he belonged.

One more part (an epilogue) after this :')

#to the one i love #to the one i love series #grumpys glen grove #twisters imagines #twisters x reader #twisters imagine #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #twisters #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens smut #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fanfiction #twisters fanfic

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roriaa · 9 months ago

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When Sun and Moon meet MASTERLIST ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to Lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

All warnings are displayed in each individual chapter

Season 1 - Water

☾ Prologue ☾ Chapter 1 - Welcome Avatar ☾ Chapter 2 - Encountering the Sun ☾ Chapter 3 - Dangerous Gale ☾ Chapter 4 - New Sacrifices

Season 2 - Earth

҉ Chapter 5 - Trainer Sakari ҉ Chapter 6 - Hidden in Ba Sing Se ҉ Chapter 7 - Refreshing Tea ҉ Chapter 8 - Failed ҉ Chapter 9 - Tied with the Gaang ҉ Chapter 10 - Fraud of the Warriors ҉ Chapter 11 - Trust to Betrayal

Season 3 - Fire

𖤓 Chapter 12 - Ship Attack 𖤓 Chapter 13 - First steps in the Fire Nation 𖤓 Chapter 14 - Sparky-Sparky Boom Man!! 𖤓 Chapter 15 - The Invasion 𖤓 Ch 16 𖤓 Ch 17 𖤓 Ch 18 𖤓 Ch 19 𖤓 Ch 20 𖤓 Ch 21

Season 4 - Sun

☪︎ Ch ???

Aftermath - Moon

⋆ Ch ???

POSTS ONCE EVERY WEEK (MOSTLY) None of the pictures are made by me This is based off of the avatar the last airbender world s1 s2 s3 potentially will add the legend of Korra sneaks Please do not copy, translate or repost my writing. Reblogging is acceptable My work is ONLY on tumblr, ao3, and wattpad. If anywhere else please inform me. Ao3 link Wattpad link

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gremlin-girly · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 9

Kink: Somnophilia

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Tags/Warnings: SMUT, Somnophilia, established relationship, petnames (doll, baby), p-in-v, f masterbation (brief), vaginal fingering, creampie, sex dreams (not in depth but mentioned)

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You always tell Bucky to wake you up when he comes back from missions but you never specified how.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

A/N: I know, I know. I'm late. Apologies. I'm going back to my home country for my birthday this week and I'm trying to get all of my uploads scheduled! So, I have the last few from last week to upload and then next week there will be a LOT of posts haha - Love Grem x

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Bucky had been on back to back missions, and although you insisted on him waking you up so you could make him food or cuddle him, he'd declined. He hadn’t wanted to ruin a good night's sleep for you; he knew how precious that was.

"Buck, I promise I'm okay with you coming to bed after a mission. I don't care if you wake me." You'd argued with him before he left again. You had been adamant about him not sleeping on the floor or sofa in fear of waking you up. You much preferred waking up to his pretty face than an empty bed.

"We'll see, doll." Bucky sighed, pecking your lips quickly as he headed out the door. "Love you."

"Love you."

When the door closes behind him you sigh to yourself. Maybe one day you'll manage to convince him.

Two days before Bucky was scheduled back you lay awake in bed, vibrator on your clit, dreaming of your boyfriend being home.

Every time he was away you missed him terribly and it didn't take long for you to cum to the thought of him more than once (although nothing would compare to the real thing). Your pyjamas and panties are lost to the sheets, a wave of tiredness washing over you as you clean up your vibe and wash your hands with strategically placed wet wipes.

You roll onto your back and stretch. You couldn't be bothered to make an attempt to find your panties. You were doomed to your fate of being pantyless, sprawled on your bed, wishing your boyfriend were home.

Your eyes flutter, heavy with sleep. Bucky'd be home soon. Maybe you should propose the idea of waking you up with sex. You make a hum of contentment to yourself. Maybe you will. But then again, any kind of sex with Bucky is sex you want to be having.

Bucky and sex with Bucky are still on the forefront of your mind as you drift to sleep.

Bucky's mission finished two and a half days early.

His plan was to get home to you as soon as possible, flowers in hand as always. Due to delays it wasn't until past 1am that he managed to get through the door.

He dumped his bags and gently placed the flowers on the dining table. You had already gone to bed so he would have to wait until tomorrow to surprise you with them. Bucky scanned the quiet apartment whilst Alpine brushed up against his legs.

He looked to the sofa then to your bedroom door. Alpine mewled haughtily; every time he came home he'd fall asleep with her on the sofa but tonight it was different. He thought about what you said before he left. How you said it every time.

Wake me up when you come home.

With a pat to Alpine’s head, Bucky padded to the bedroom quietly. The door whined on it hinges as he pushed it open, but as he slinked through he could just about see you through the light in the curtains.

Bucky took in your sleeping form; tangled in the sheets and sprawled out almost entirely on the bed. You looked so peaceful. Not even close to elegant but peaceful and it brought a smile to Bucky’s face.

Then you huff and murmur his name. Bucky inches forward, thinking you've woken up. There's a miniscule amount of guilt but the thought of seeing you beam up at him quickly replaced it. But you don't open your eyes. You shift in the sheets, moving your hips upward and kicking the comforter further down your body.

You're so pliable in this state, relaxed and soft. Bucky only needs to tap your knee outward gently for you to spread your legs wide for him. You're wearing nothing but a cropped shirt that barely covers your tits. Bucky's eyes scan the covers and find your pyjama shorts and panties discarded in the covers; clearly you had some fun before falling asleep. He bites back a chuckle and looks back to you. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but you look so good right now he can't help himself. Didn't you say you wouldn't mind being woken up by him? You didn't specify how.

Bucky traces the insides of your thighs, curious if you'd stir. You shift slightly and hum in your sleep but you don't wake up. Bucky releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and runs a finger along your still glistening folds experimentally. This time you let out a breathless whimper and spread your legs even further.

Watching you mewl under his touch even when you're asleep makes his cock ache. He shifts closer to you, sitting between your legs for a better reach of your wet folds, his thumb finding your clit easily. The noises you made when his thumb brushed over your already sensitive nub had his free hand freeing his hard cock almost immediately. You writhed beneath him limply, your legs making lazy, half hearted attempts to close, but Bucky's broad body was in the way.

"Look at you, doll." Bucky huffed quietly, pumping his cock as a finger slipped inside of your eager pussy, making you cry out Bucky's name quietly. "Bein' so good for me even while you sleep."

Bucky adds a second finger shortly after, stretching you open. You were already so wet you probably didn't need it but Bucky was adamant to ensure you woke up to only pleasure. He can feel you clench around his fingers, your gently, sleepy gasps coming more rapidly. You were going to cum so quickly and easily around his fingers, dreaming of him no less.

Bucky removes his fingers from your pussy and you whine quietly in complaint. He gathers slick from your folds, running the tip of his cock teasingly up and down, and biting back his own loud groan. You feel ridiculously silky and wet but the thought of you waking up with him buried inside you has Bucky’s cock twitch against your clit. He lines himself with your entrance and slowly pushes into you, watching your face as he does.

Your eyes flutter briefly, and Bucky’s hands come up to cup your face in the almost-darkness. When his cock reaches its hilt he tries to groan quietly; your pussy flutters and clenches him, still desperate for more.

"Bucky." You huff, head turning into his palm. Your eyes flutter again and you have the familiar toe curling feeling brewing at your core and the feeling of being filled to the brim.

"Yeah, doll?" Bucky murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your cheek. He moves his hips slowly, almost taking care not to move to hard too fast, although he's desperate to cum.

Your eyes flutter again but this time they stay open. It takes you a minute to register waking up from the sex dream you were having, eyes adjusting to the darkness around you. The weight on top of you, inside you, makes your pussy clench when you recognise your boyfriend's aftershave. Your eyes are like dinnerplates in the darkness but you can see the rise and fall of Bucky's chest, and just about make out the blue of his eyes looking back at you.

You lick your lips as you feel his cock throb inside you, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to capture his lips in a sleepy kiss.

"Welcome home, baby." You mumble, wrapping your legs around his waist a little tighter. Bucky sinks back further into your pussy as he kisses your face, and this time you moan a little louder.

"'M sorry for waking you." He says, thrusts getting quicker. You're awake now, there's no reason for him to hold back. You're body is wide awake, ripping you from your sleep state and throwing you over to pleasure.

"'S okay," you pant out, your grip on his is still lazy and sleepy, but your body feels like it's on fire as he fucks into you mercilessly. Your first orgasm rips through you quickly, too sensitive from Bucky's teasing and your earlier me-time to withstand the pleasure Bucky is giving you. Your cry out his name with a whimper, turning to gasps of ecstasy as you cum over his cock and he smiles against your neck whispering praises as your cunt milks him. Bucky cums after your second orgasm, your pussy fluttering around his cock too much for him to bare. His thrusts slow ensuring he's filled you to the brim with his cum before stopping entirely to relish the state you're both in.

Panting together, Bucky rolls off you slowly, and you huff at the loss of heat on top of you.

"You okay?" He murmurs, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist. He snuggles in close, pressing kisses to your shoulder. You chuckle turning to him and pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Better than okay." You sigh dreamily. "I wanna wake up to that all the time."

Bucky snorts gently. "I'll keep that in mind, doll."

"I'm glad you're back and that you came and woke me up." You smile and cuddle closer into his arms. As you're settling next to him, your eyelids begin to droop, getting heavy again.

"So am I," Bucky says, yawning loudly clearly feeling the same unstoppable have of tiredness. Travelling home and fucking in the same night after a long mission meant he'd be sleeping well tonight.

You hum happily. "Love you."

"Love you, doll."

Wrapped in each other's arms you both fall asleep quickly, waking up the next to one another the following day and repeating the night's activities.

#kinktober #gremlin girly #gremlin girly writes #no beta we die like men #marvel mcu #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #kinktober 2024 #kinktober2024 #day 9

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zepskies · 4 months ago

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What Does "Supporting Writers" Mean? ✍️

Apparently it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow writers, I truly appreciate you for bringing me joy, making me smile on rough days, and giving me my weekly/daily dose of escapism and warm fuzzies. (Shoutouts to you personally below.) 💓💓

But what does it mean "practically" to appreciate your favorite writers, especially on Tumblr?

For example, I know some fanfic authors are starting to block "serial likers": people who'll go through someone's entire masterlist and hit the "like" button on 20-something stories without commenting or basic reblogging.

While I think blocking them is extreme, I understand the authors' frustrations. I've actually been asked if I'll ever leave Tumblr, since many of them have dropped off over the past few months, or even the past few years.

I'm still here for two very important reasons:

I love to write about my favorite characters. I write primarily because I love it, not just for the kudos.

I'm friggin' blessed to have a lot of friends and lovely readers on here and Ao3 who support me immensely on my writing and on this blog in general. I love and appreciate each and every one of you! Which is why I do my best to reply to your comments and reblogs. 💖💖

Of course, there are many reasons why a writer might take a break or stop writing entirely, but one of those reasons is also why the #supportwriters tag exists...

And why you'll see us include banners like this on our posts:

(Credits: cafekitsune, me, inklore)

That being said, here's my own rule of thumb on how I try to support my fellow writers when I read something I enjoy:

If I "liked" something, it means I had the time to read a story all the way through and I enjoyed it! (Or I'm bookmarking it for later in the day lol)

If I have the time to read it, I have the time to leave a comment on what I liked the most about it.

If I have the time to write out a comment (anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), I typically put that comment in a reblog -- maybe even add a gif or two for ✨razzle dazzle.✨ That way I can share it with the rest of my followers, so they can see it and hopefully enjoy it too...

Why? Because Tumblr isn't TikTok or IG. Reblogging is the best way to help a post gain traction on Tumblr. The algorithm doesn't care much about likes.

But on a more human level, supporting writers is just the basic thing of -- if you enjoyed something you read (that a writer shared for free), just let them know what you liked about it.

Remember that there's a person behind the content you enjoy. They might have been working on that story for weeks or months, or even years before they got the courage to post it.

They might really be putting themselves out there, writing about a topic or subject matter that they're not sure people will even like or engage with.

Maybe they're exploring something new, like a character or trope they've never written before.

Maybe they're expressing part of themselves that they haven't even told another living soul.

Maybe they just wanted to write something fun and smutty or angsty or fluffy and want to share the escapism with you.

Whether they've been writing for years or are just starting out, any and all is valid.

For me, as a writer and a reader, supporting my fellow writers often means supporting my friends. And 9 times out of 10, the way we became friends was by leaving feedback on their work and asking them questions, or responding to their awesome feedback on mine.

If you want a little jumpstart on how to leave feedback, whether encouraging or constructive, here's an awesome post about it (not mine).

Shoutout to some of my favorite writers 💞:

(In no particular order)

@waynes-multiverse @luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @thatonewriter15 @rizlowwritessortof

@waywardxwords @tofics @kaleldobrev @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings

@jawritter @deanwinchesterswitch @justagirlinafandomworld @ravengirl94 @waywardxwords

@spnbabe67 @deanwanddamons @ejlovespie @kittenofdoomage @venus-haze

@talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @jacklesbrainworms @artyandink @princessmisery666 (I just starting reading your stories, but I'm continuing with Samnesia soon!) -- and I'm sure many more! 💋

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mphoenix-7 · 6 months ago

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Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 9: The Cabin: Day 4 (pt.2)

Summary: Soap gets to you just in time. Now he needs to make sure you’re ok.

Word Count: 6,900

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, slightly smutty but it’s mostly fluff, mentions of sex,

A/N: I got a puppy this past week and let me tell you, it’s made finding time to write soooo hard. But I’m still going to try with weekly updates! Please enjoy! Like, comment, and reblog if you’d like :)

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 9

"States?! States!!!"

Words really could not express how happy you are to hear his voice. You are sobbing, so relieved yet still so scared.

"Soap!!! Soap, please help!!! I need you! Please!!!" You're yelling as loud as you possibly can, voice straining as you continue to splash at the bear and hit the water with your fists. The black bear wasn't even reacting to Soap's voice. Its focus was solely on you.

"States?! Where the fuck are you?!" His voice is closer now but still so distant.

"In the lake!! There's a bear! Please hurry!" You cry out.

The bear then decides it's had enough playing around. It seems to splash water right back at you, making you hold your hands up to shield your eyes from the onslaught of water. You scream as you're temporarily blinded, opening your eyes just in time to see you're almost face to face with the bear. Its mouth is open, teeth bared like it's going to bite. You scream again, your body feeling a big rush of adrenaline flood your system. You swing at the animal, punching it as hard you possibly can right in the nose.

Holy fuck you just punched a bear.

Your hand stings from it making contact with the hard bone of the bear's muzzle, but the hit did buy you some time. While it's stunned, sneezing and pawing at its nose, you try to move to the side. If you went back anymore, your feet wouldn't be able to touch the bottom of the lake. You knew if that happened, you wouldn't be able to get away. The bear would quickly overpower you if that happened.

You want to get around it and book it for the shore. Even then, you knew bears were fast, and you wouldn't be able to outrun it. But maybe, just maybe, you could make it to the cabin. You can't even get around the bear though. The second you being to move, it's tracking your movements again. It pounces to the side, blocking you from getting away. It felt like you were being cornered. Stuck between a drop off into deeper water and the animal.

"Soap! Where are you?!" You yell, pleading with him to hurry up.

"States!" You hear Soap's voice closer now, and you can hear the sound of heavy foot falls. Glancing past the bear and toward the shoreline, you see him barreling through the foliage.

"Soap!!" His widened eyes connect with yours for just a second before he's looking at the bear swimming towards you. Instantly, his whole demeanor shifts.

"Hey!" He shouts, voice deep and harsh. A growl that matched the intensity of the bear's. "Fuck off, you wee bastard! Dumb bear! Over here!!" He yells at the bear, picking up a rock and throwing it towards the animal, striking it on its flank.

It brings the bear's attention over to Soap, shifting its angry gaze from you to him. Then without hesitation, ignoring the cold water or the fact his boots and clothes are going to be soaked, Soap charges into the water, keeping his eyes locked on the bear's. With its attention off you, you start to move away slowly.

"Go on, get out of here! Fuck off!!" Soap keeps shouting, splashing up water as he strides towards the bear.

The bear is looking between you, now further away, and Soap, who has an angry snarl on his face and looks intimidating as hell as he charges. It seems to decide it's not worth the trouble anymore. You're going to be too hard to get now. It starts to back off, making its way to the shore and watching Soap the whole time. It seems to have forgotten about you entirely.

"That's right!! Get the fuck out of here, you ugly bastard! I'll turn you into a fucking rug if you come back here, you piece of shite!!" Soap continues to yell, storming after the bear as it backs away. He even manages to find another rock and hurl it at the bear again. All you can do is watch, feeling helpless and useless as he chases it off.

Once the bear's feet hit close to dry land, it turns and bolts back to the woods. Soap chases it a short distance, making sure that it gets the message.

"Yeah, that's right! Run to the woods and fucking stay there!!" Soap shouts one last time, waiting as he watches the bear disappear into the green brush. Once he's sure it's gone, he quickly turns to look for you. You're still huddled in the water, in roughly the same place you'd been when he got there.

"States!" He shouts, running back into the water to you. "States! Come here, swim to me! Are you alright, lass?" He asks hurriedly, not stopping until he gets to you. When he's close enough, he reaches out and grabs your forearm that's crossed over your bare chest, pulling you to him. It doesn't even fully occur to him that you're naked. It's the least of his concerns right now.

"Are you hurt? Did it get you?" He asks frantically, his eyes wide with panic. His hands run over your shoulders and down your arms a little, checking for injuries while trying to be mindful that you are naked.

"N-no... just got really close..." You wrap your arms tightly around your chest, trying to cover your breasts as you shake uncontrollably. The bone-chilling cold of the water and the overwhelming surge of adrenaline coursing through you are both to blame for that.

"Oh, lass, you're shaking like a leaf. Come on, it's ok now. Let's get you inside and warm you up, alright?"

Soap's voice is just as shaky as your body, but you don't notice it in that moment. All you can focus on is the way he wraps an arm around you, keeping you pulled close to his side, while his other hand rubs your arm to try and sooth you. He's so warm compared to the water. He feels so safe. You don't care about anything that was said before, you're just happy he's here with you.

Now that it's over, now that the immediate threat is gone, you feel yourself starting to break down. It starts with a little hitch in your breath and then you just start crying. Your head drops towards Soap, and he seems to hold you a little tighter as he walks you out of the water. The whole way, he is mumbling soothing things to you.

"Shhh.. it's alright, lass. You're safe. It's not coming back. I got you, ok? I'm right here. You're safe."

"I froze up." You begin to babble. "It was coming at me- and I just- I didn't- so I just froze." You're not even really sure Soap can understand a thing you're saying. Your voice is shaky, you're sobbing uncontrollably, hiccuping, and shivering.

"Hush, it's alright. Let's just get you inside." He tells you softly, walking you to shore.

You hug yourself tightly as the breeze hits your wet skin, causing your body to shiver more violently and making more goosebumps raise up. The only part of your naked body you can cover is your chest, but you're far from feeling embarrassed about your nudity right now.

"Hang on, lass. Let me get your towel." Soap gives your arms a squeeze and then leaves your side for a moment. He runs over to your now unfolded towel while you slowly walk towards him. "Here we go. Let's get your cover-" He's quick to pick it off the ground and hold it open for you, but he stops upon noticing a brown stain along one edge. Making a face, he tosses it back to the ground.

"Fucking bear took a shite right on it." He grumbles, looking around for anything else he can use to cover you up. He can't seem to find anything though, but he knows he can't leave you naked. You were already feeling vulnerable and scared. He wanted something to put around you.

"Ah hell, here." He sighs, starting to pull his own shirt up over his head. He wrings it out before putting your head through the hole and pulling it down your body. "I know my shirt's wet but it'll cover you up until we can get you inside. Come on, lass."

"My clothes..." You try to protest as he wraps his arms back around you.

Soap looks back as he starts walking you away. "You don't want them right now. They're all muddy. And I'm not sure if it's shite or mud. Come on."

He rubs your back as he escorts you to the cabin, your wet feet collecting dirt and grass along the way. You're still a shivering, shaky, and sobbing mess once you're inside. He walks you all the way to the bedroom, and you'd probably be shocked (if you weren't already in shock) as he sits you down on his bed.

"Hang on, hen." He says softly as he goes to get you his towel. The term of endearment is lost on you as he wraps it around your still wet body, rubbing a little here and there to dry you off.

Once you're somewhat dry, he goes to your clothing draw and picks out some underwear, socks, and your pajama top and shorts. He wanted to prioritize comfort over warmth since he could just wrap you in his sleeping roll or make you some soup to warm you up.

"Here, got you some nice dry comfy clothes. Can you put them on for me?" He's kneeling in front of you, hands rubbing your towel covered arms to try and warm you up. He's placed the folded up clothes off to your side.

You start to break down again. You can't help it. You'd already been horribly stressed before the whole bear thing, and then you'd been so vulnerable and thought for sure you were going to die. Plus your adrenaline levels were still super high.

"I'm a horrible solider..." You sob. "I froze up- I didn't know what to do! I always know, and my head went blank!"

"Hey, hey look at me." Soap says softly, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. "You're not a horrible solider. You're just upset from last night, and from this morning, and you were completely exposed. It's understandable. Any solider would have freaked out under the same circumstances. It's alright, you're not a bad solider. Just get dressed. We gotta warm you up and calm you down, ok?"

"But I am! What fucking SAS soldier gets scared by a bear!" You're stilling sobbing while Soap tries his best to console you.

"Stop it, you're not. Alright? You are a good fucking solider, States. Hell, I would have been shitting myself too if I was butt ass naked trying to take on a black bear by myself. Then again that bear probably would have went running as soon as he saw me naked. You can vouch for how horrifying that is, aye lass?"

Despite still being an absolute wreck, you laugh a little at his comment. It doesn't fix everything, but it brings a smile to your face, and that's good enough for Soap. He smiles back at you, taking a moment to move some of the wet strands of hair that are plastered to the side of your face behind your ear.

"I knew that'd make you smile." He chuckles. "Now, please get out of my wet shirt and put something dry on. I'm going to go get some soup on the stove. Something to warm you up."

You weren't exactly hungry at the moment, but Soap is up before you can even protest. He grabs a shirt on his way out and shuts the door to the bedroom to give you some privacy to get dressed, but he leaves it open a crack.

Slowly, you start to drop the towel from around your shoulders and take off Soap's shirt. It's way too big for you, but it did a good job at covering you up in the mean time. It's damp as you peel it off over your head, and you start to feel exposed again. Even if you are all alone, the feeling remains. You quickly begin to dress yourself in the clothes he laid out.

The whole time you redress yourself, you find your hands are still shaking. The scene plays over and over in your head. The bear growling at you, the fear that you were going to be eaten alive, the relief when Soap showed up. Thank God he'd been close enough to hear you. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't been there. You can't even bring yourself to care about what happened before. You are certain you are alive because of Soap.

Once you're fully dressed, you slowly slide off Soap's bed. You don't want to be alone with your thoughts right now... thinking about what could have happened. Silently, you make your way out of the bedroom, pull the door open, and step into the kitchen. Soap is at the stove, stirring a pot of what is most likely chicken soup.

When he hears the bedroom door open, he glances over his shoulder to you. "Go lay down, lass. Soup will be ready in a moment." He tells you gently, but you stay put.

"I... I don't wanna be alone.." You admit softly, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking to the ground. You can't bring yourself to look at him right now.

Soap looks over his shoulder again, frowning as he notices how small you look. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make his heart clench in his chest. This wasn't the States he was used to seeing. Something had changed when he'd heard you screaming for him. Seeing you cower before that black bear, pulling your shaking body to his, and hearing you sob.

He's never seen you like that. Vulnerable. Scared. The bear incident had rattled you, but it'd also scared him too. He couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness. A desire to protect you. He'd always seen you as a thorn in his side, not someone he needed to protect. Not as someone he was afraid to lose.

"I'm here. Everything is ok now." He reminds you.

"If you hadn't been... I would have died..." You see your vision getting blurry again and hold your breath, not wanting to cry again. You've cried more in the last few days than you have in years.

"Don't think like that." Soap tells you firmly, his voice almost harsh.

You don't know what to say to him, but it's not like you could speak anyway; you're on the verge of tears again. Your body speaks for you, because soon, you can't hold your breath any longer. A shaky, uneven breath escapes you, the sound telling Soap more than enough.

"States, come here." Soap sighs softly.

You hesitate a moment before slowly making your way to him. By the time you reach him, the soup is beginning to steam. Soap moves it off from the directed heat before he turns to you.

"Look at me, lass." Soap says softly, grabbing your chin and pulling your gaze to his. "Don't even be thinking about what else could have happened. It didn't. I was here, you're alive. There is no point in imaging different outcomes. You hear me? Don't do that to yourself."

His voice was rough. You can't tell if he's mad or not, but you don't want him to be mad. The thought of another fight between you, especially now, is enough to break you.

"Are you mad at me?" You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself. Your voice cracks and a single tear runs down your cheek.

Soap's face changes instantly. His features soften up, especially his eyes. He lets go of your chin and brushes the tear away before looking away.

"No, hell... I'm not mad." Soap says carefully. "If anything, I'm mad at that bear for threatening your life. I don't... I don't want you dead, States."

You blink at him for a second as you take in what he's said. Soap's words weren't a declaration of undying love, but they had a similar impact on you. He wasn't saying he loved you—it was Soap, after all, he didn't like you—but his words carried a weight akin to a heartfelt confession. He didn't want you dead, and that was pretty special in its own way.

You struggle to find something to say. Of course, you know he wouldn't want you dead, but hearing him say it out loud felt strange, almost surreal. His concern felt genuine, and it left you with trying to figure out yet another emotion. You open your mouth, searching for something to say before the silence gets awkward.

"I would have been if-"

"Stop!" Soap immediately cuts you off, closing his eyes a moment as if he's trying to keep his cool. "I'm gonna be mad if you keep talking like that." He finishes, voice calmer now.

You frown at him. "But it's true! I was fucking useless. Everything I did to make it go away didn't work. I yelled at it, I tried to back away slowly, I splashed water at it. Nothing work, it just kept getting closer and closer."

"You just need to know the right things to do."

"What are the right things?”

Soap sighs softly. "We can talk about that later. Right now-"

"No, I need to know now!" You normally wouldn't beg Soap for any kind of help, which tells him just how terrified you'd been.

"States-"

"What if it comes back..." Your eyes are beginning to filled with tears at the thought alone of being in that position again.

"Hey, no more tears, alright?" Soap tells you softly, hands coming up to cup your cheek again and catching a salty tear as it rolls down your face. You sniffle and nod, trying to look away, but Soap moves his hand to your jaw to keep you looking into his eyes.

"Listen hen, that bear isn't going to be coming back anytime soon. Even if it did, I'm gonna be right here to chase it off again. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe."

You've never seen Soap's eyes so soft before. They're beautiful when they aren't glaring at you, a rich blue you could drown in. His voice is like velvet -soothing, heavy, and warm- wrapping around you like a soft embrace.

"You promise?" You ask as Soap drops his hand from your cheek.

"Yeah, I promise." He agrees, glancing away from you and to the pot of soup. It may have been off the heat, but it's bubbling now. "Soup is ready. Go wrap yourself up in my blanket, you still look cold. I'll be in shortly with the soup."

You look down to yours arms, which were covered in goosebumps. You weren't cold though. It was Soap's words that made them appear. You don't correct him on this though and just nod your head, padding off to the bedroom again. You sink back down onto his cot, tucking your knees to your chest. A second or two later, Soap is stepping into the bedroom, two mugs in his hands.

"Feeling better?" He asks you, pushing a mug of warm soup into your hands and then slowly sitting down by his pillow.

"Yeah. Still a bit shaken up, but I'm feeling better now." Your voice wasn't shaky anymore, and you think most of the adrenaline is gone now. You look down into your cup of soup, watching the steam come off it.

"Are you sure you're ok?" He asks, taking a sip from his cup and wincing when he discovers it's still too hot to drink.

"Yeah... I mean it didn't get to me. Just got really close and messed with me a little mentally." You frown, going to take a sip yourself and wincing. You hadn't seen Soap do the same thing a second before.

"Yeah, sorry. I made it too hot." Soap frowns when he sees you wince. You end up putting your cup down on the floor to let it cool off. Even the handle was getting kind hot. The cups you were using were the crappy military ones people used while out in the field.

"I'm sure it'll cool off quick." You say dismissively. You were just touched he'd made soup for you in the first place. Soap is also placing his mug on the ground a moment later.

"Do you... do you want to talk about it?" He asks slowly, unsure. "Otherwise we can talk about something else." He offers.

You sigh softly, picking at a string on your shorts. "I don't even know where to start really. It all happened so fast. I'm in the military, and I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life." You can't help but let out a dry chuckle at that realization. "I felt so helpless. I mean at least in the field I have my gear, and my training, but... I had nothing."

"That's not true." Soap shakes his head. "You have your voice. That's probably your best defense against something like a black bear."

"Bear didn't listen to me. I screamed and shouted at it. It did absolutely nothing." Your voice shakes just slightly as you recall it. Your throat still feels a little raw from all the shouting.

"Got my attention, didn't it?" Soap counters, his tone softening a bit as he meets your gaze. "I wouldn't call that nothing."

"Well it's a good thing you were close enough to hear me. Otherwise it would have been worthless. Bear ran off when you shouted at it. I don't get why it worked for you."

"Walk me through everything that happened. Did you start screaming at it instantly?"

You sigh softly and try to think back about the entire event. "Well... no, I guess not..." You frown, taking yourself back into the lake. "I was kinda in shock for the first few moments, and I think we just stared at each other. I couldn't remember if I needed to play dead or what, but then it just charged into the water after me. Tried to back away, I shouted at it, which didn't work. I tried looking for something to defend myself with, and it..." You pause to take a shaky breath, "it lunged at me the second I looked away. I splashed water at it, I screamed, I even fucking punched it when it got close to me- God it'd been so close to me... I was able to touch it... I saw its teeth. I could practically feel its breath on me..."

You trail off when you feel a warm hand gently grab yours. You were unaware that you were breathing heavily and clenching your hands into fists in your lap. Looking over, you see Soap has moved to your side, his eyes studying you and his brows pinched together in worry.

"Deep breath, aye?" Soap says softly.

"Sorry..." You breath out shakily. Slowly you relax your hand, opening it and letting Soap hold it better. He doesn't interlace your fingers or anything romantic, he just gives it a squeeze and then lets go.

“You punched that bear?” Soap asks, staying close to you instead of leaning back again.

You hum softly. “Yeah… yeah, I guess I did. I didn’t know what else to do. It was going to bite me if I didn’t.”

“That’s pretty bad ass.” Soap says, almost like he’s trying to make you feel better about yourself. “How many people can say they punched a bear?”

“I think it just made it more mad. I tried to run the second it was distracted, but it just jumped back in front of me.”

“Punching it was the right thing to do.” Soap assured you. “Most bears would have ran away if you did that. I think this one was too convinced that you were an easy target. So it wasn’t going to give up easily.”

You frown, hating to think you’d made yourself an easy target. You prided yourself on being able to handle yourself out in the field. It felt like your skills were slipping.

“How the hell do I make myself not an easy target? I did everything I could. I even fucking punched the damn thing. Nothing worked… I just don’t get it.” You’re getting upset again. You feel so frustrated, upset, and angry at yourself.

Soap grabs your leg and spins you to face him. You gasp as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him.

"Your first mistake was that you didn't stand your ground." He starts, face just inches from yours. On instinct, you try to back away from him towards the edge of the bed, but he just follows after you.

"You don't play dead or back away from a black bear. You can't show it you're scared or it's over. You gotta get big immediately, make your presence known, and don't back down."

You find yourself at the edge of the bed with nowhere else to go. You feel cornered as Soap cages you in, placing his hands on either side of you on the mattress. He looks intimidating as he towers over you, demonstrating the effects his instructions have.

"That should be second nature to you, yeah States?" He mumbles, as you watch him.

"Second,” he continues. “You get loud immediately. Your voice needs to be strong and confident. Just like in the field, you can't show fear and then expect the enemy to take you seriously when you get loud. I know you've got quite the vocals. That won't be an issue for you."

You look away, feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze. He instantly grabs your chin, making your eyes lock onto his.

"And you never, ever, look away from a black bear. Or any animal for that matter. You keep your eyes locked on, no matter what. Just like with me when we argue. You never look away from me first. You always hold your ground like the damn stubborn solider you are. Drives me fucking crazy when you do that."

His voice is deep and gravelly as he says that last part, and your thoughts instantly go to last night. How you’d refused to look away until he finally broke.

You find yourself locking eyes with him now. His hand remains firmly on your chin, his eyes staring dominantly into yours.

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles. The energy rolling off Soap feels similar to yesterday, but it's still different. It's a different intensity, one that makes you feel like you can't breathe.

He's towering over you, trapping you in like he's the bear that won't let you escape. Except it's not a bear, and it's just Soap. If you can stand your ground against Soap, you can stand your ground against a black bear. Soap was probably just about as dangerous as one, if not more.

The fear melts away, replaced by the warmth of Soap's proximity. He's close enough you can feel his breath against your lips. You can feel the heat coming off his body as he leans over you. Your eyes still haven't left his, and how could you look away when his start to soften slightly. You don't want to fight anymore. You just want to get lost in the peace that his non-glaring eyes bring.

Then his hand slides from your chin to the side of your face, his thumb gently tracing along your jaw. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel your heartbeat quickening. Soap's eyes are intense as they lock on yours, his pupils dilating slightly. The tension in the room shifts to something far more intense and intimate.

Your lips part, as if to speak, but no words come out. You're not even sure what you would have wanted to say anyway. Instead, your body seems to move on its own. You tilt your head slightly and then quickly close the distance, meeting his lips in a tentative kiss. The little voice in the back of your head is screaming at you, asking what the hell you’re doing, but his lips are so warm and soft, so different from how you remembered them feeling. The gentle pressure of his lips against yours makes that voice fade into the background until it vanishes entirely.

Soap is still at first, you hear him inhale through his nose when you first press your lips against his. As soon as you try to pull away though, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you back in as he deepens the kiss. He kisses you back firmly, quickly dominating the kiss. A fire instantly ignites within you, and you melt into him. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as you lose yourself in the sensation.

The kiss grows more feverant, yet your lips move against his at a deliberate, slow pace, resisting his attempts to quicken it. The wet, gentle sound of lips meeting and parting fills the air, mingling with the sound of your gradually quickening breaths.

You're starting to tremble slightly as your heart rate increases, yet Soap remains as composed as ever. You need to know he feels the same way, that you're not the only one affected by this. You slip a hand from around his neck down to his chest, placing it over his heart. His heartbeat thumps heavily against your fingertips, its rapid pace mirroring your own.

Soap gently takes your hand and pulls it away from his chest, guiding it back around his neck as he rocks back, settling you into his lap. His hands rest on your hips, pulling you down against him, positioning you right over the bulge in his pants. Feeling the firm press of his member between your legs has heat pooling there fast. Meanwhile, Soap's hands travel from your hips, his fingertips ticking along the sides and backs of your thighs, only adding to that sensation.

You move your hands to cup his cheeks, tracing them along his jawline and feeling the prickly stubble beneath your fingers. When you brush your fingers against the sensitive skin behind his ear, a soft, low moan escapes him. His hands shift from your thighs to your lower back, just above your butt. He presses you down against his bulge, grinding you against him and encouraging you to move.

The thinnish material of your shorts does not do much to separate you from the tough denim of Soap's pants. The seam of his pants is rubbing deliciously against you and you start to grind gently to keep that sensation going.

You moan softly at the contact, your lips breaking free from his as you do. Your eyes flutter open, and you find that Soap is already looking at you. His lips are parted, and his breathing is a little labored, but you hardly pay any attention to those things. His eyes are filled with emotions that you've never seen before. The only discernible one you can pick out in your haze is confusion.

"We need to stop." He whispers, and you blink at him in surprise. It takes a few seconds before you fully realize what he's said, but once you do, your heart drops a little.

You weren't expecting him to say that. Of all the emotions in his eyes, wanting to stop hadn't been one you'd picked out. He'd seemed so into it just a moment ago.

"But-" you begin to protest, but he cuts you off.

"If it was a mistake the first time, it's going to be a mistake the second time. And you're not in the right mindset." He moves his hands to your hips and starts to lift you off his lap. He sets you back down on his cot, and you notice him trying to subtly adjust the bulge in his pants, evidence he’d been enjoying it.

As initially sad as you are about stopping, you know he’s right. Having sex again really wasn’t a good idea. You’re not even really sure what you’d been thinking. Now that Soap had put an end to it, you felt embarrassed.

“I’m sorry...” You mutter, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Soap sighs softly. “Don’t be. It’s not like I didn’t kiss you back. Just forget it happened.”

You look down at your lap, a frown making its way to your face. Soap's words echo in your mind, pulling you back to the conversation you had earlier that day. To just forget it, move on, and act like it didn’t happen. Go back to the ways things were before.

"I… I don't want to go back to how things were." You find yourself blurting out, the words slipping past your lips before you can fully process them.

The thought of falling into the same old routine with him, arguing and bickering constantly, is unbearable. You wanted things to be different. You liked this. The soft touches, the gentle looks, his deep soothing voice and not the rough angry one. You don't want to give that up.

“What?” Soap says, confusion evident in his tone. “States, we can't keep fucking each other. It's only complicating things." He argues.

"No, that's-that’s not entirely what I meant. I mean like, I'm tired of us constantly fighting. I like this. I want things to be like how they've been today. Or at least the last few hours. Feeling like I can rely on you, not fighting, being civil. I want that for us, not what we had before. I don't care about sex. I just want… I want to connect with you. For us to connect with each other.”

You feel like you're opening your heart up to Soap, which is surprising. You've never felt this emotionally vulnerable around him before. The only thing that comes close is your first day together when you cried in front of him. Even sex with him had felt more physical rather than any emotional connection.

You wait with bated breath for his response as Soap looks away, his lips pursing together. You can tell he's uncomfortable with this topic.

"Soap... can't we just start over?"

Soap sighs heavily, leaning his head back against the wall and looking straight up. "I don't know if we can just start over." He mutters, making you frown.

"Can't we try?" You ask him softly, trying to look for any changes in his body language that you were pushing too much. You didn't want to ruin the somewhat peaceful atmosphere.

"I just don't see how-"

"Please." You push, and he turns his gaze back to you. He looks just slightly irritated, and you know you're pushing it too much. He’s getting annoyed.

"Keep in mind, I did almost get eaten by a bear today. So you know..." You add, using the near death experience to guilt him into agreeing while also trying to lighten things up a little. It seems to work as the irritated look leaves Soap's face.

"Steaming Jesus..." He mutters under his breath, clearly not happy with you using that against him. He wanted to say no so badly, but he found that the words wouldn’t leave his lips. Whether it was because of what you said, that you almost had died, or because deep down he really did want to start over, he wasn’t sure.

Finally, after a few seconds, he sighs. “Gonna hate making Price think he's right." He grumbles, his resolve cracking slowly. "Fine lass. But I'm not making any promises."

You’re honestly shocked he agrees to having a fresh start. You expected him to just close himself off and say no, but you definitely aren’t going to complain. Any tension you had instantly leaves your body, excited by the idea of starting over. Of you and Soap being nice to each other. Giving him a smile, you extend your hand out to him and clear your throat.

"Hi, I'm (y/n) (y/l/n) but people around here call me States. I've been with Task Force 141 for about six months now, but I don't think we've met yet." You reintroduce yourself to Soap, but he's making a face at you.

"Get out of here with that shite." He grumbles, swatting your hand away, but his voice is light, not angry.

Pouting at him, you hold your hand out again. "Aww, come on. Is that really how you want our first introduction to each other to be like?"

"You're fucking mad, woman."

"I almost gotten eaten by a bear today! The least you can do is play along." You argue, making Soap narrow his eyes at you.

"You're really going to play that card again?"

"Yep." You stick your hand back out, giving him an expectant look.

Soap looks between you and your hand a few times before rolling his eyes and groaning. "You can't use that for everything you know." He reluctantly puts his hand into yours.

You give him a smug smile and a little shrug. "If it works, it works. Now..." You clear your throat and nod towards him, hinting at him to continue playing along.

He gives you a glare before sighing deeply. “Ughh, hey, lass... I'm, uh, I'm Sergeant John MacTavish. Everyone expect Ghost calls me Soap. I'm the incredibly handsome and daring hero who saved you from getting eaten by a bear today."

You roll your eyes at him. "What you want a metal or something?" You grumble, but he's already said so much more than you expected that you can't really complain.

"Would be fine if you offered to do my laundry for the next month as a thank you." He shrugs, and you withdraw your hand from his.

"Just put me back in the lake."

"Alright." Soap shrugs, surprising you by reaching out for you. His hands grip your waist, and before you can react, he's attempting to hoist you up.

You gasp and start to squirm immediately. "Don't you fucking dare, MacTavish!" You warn, pushing at his hands and trying to wiggle away. You almost manage to get to the end of his cot, but he just gets up and pulls you back to him. He pins you down on your back as he stands over you.

"You going to do my laundry for the next month?" He asks, pausing and keeping you pinned while he gives you once last chance to agree.

"No! Fuck you!"

"Alright, guess I'm putting you back then." You squeal then as Soap hoists you up, practically throwing you over his shoulder.

"Put me down! I swear Soap!" You shout at him, pounding your fists against his back.

"I'll put you down in the lake." He tells you, turning to head towards the door, but then he kicks over your mug of soup, sending it clattering a few feet in front of him and spilling cold soup everywhere. "Ops." He mumbles, looking down at it.

You stop struggling when you hear the metal clanging, and Soap puts you down on your feet. You look down at the mug with Soap for a long second. Normally fighting would ensure, with either you cussing Soap out for picking you up or Soap getting pissed for you setting it somewhere he could kick it.

Instead, you take a deep breath and start to laugh. Soap shifts his gaze from the mug to you, seeming surprised by hearing you laugh. He must have been expecting some kind of fight too. You don’t notice it, but a small smile makes its way to his face.

“That's karma for trying to put me back in the lake." You shove him lightly, in a playful way, and step over the puddle to go into the kitchen to get some paper towel. You hear Soap scoff behind you.

"Says the one who's about to clean it up." He throws back, watching you grab the paper towels.

You chuckle softly as you walk back over, slapping them to his chest. "Nah, I was just getting them for you. You kicked it over, you clean.”

"You put it down there." He throws back, just like you knew he would.

"But I almost got-"

"Ahh!! No! You can't use that anymore! I already did what you wanted and did that cheesy introduction bit. Just go sit on your bed. Steaming Jesus." He gripes, but he goes to mop up the mess anyway.

You feel another laugh bubble in your chest, and you smile as you watch Soap squat down to lay the paper towel over the liquid. Even though it sort of felt like you were still arguing a bit, it was much lighter now. You knew things could flip and tomorrow he could be a total dick all over again, but for now, you wanted to enjoy this.

As you laugh, Soap finds himself smiling again. Perhaps you weren’t as bad as he thought. Maybe letting you in wouldn’t be so bad…

249 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

Text

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Words Count: 2,070

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Under the relentless blaze of the scorching sun, Bucky Barnes, the pampered scion of the country's largest retail business, was far removed from the air-conditioned boardrooms of his family's empire. Grumbling incessantly, he swatted away the relentless flies that seemed to thrive in the rural heat.

"Pick them up gently, Bucky. We don't want scrambled eggs before breakfast," Y/N instructed sternly, her eyes narrowing as Bucky clumsily reached for the first egg. The delicate shell slipped through his fingers, meeting the unforgiving ground with a sharp crack.

"Really, city boy? You gotta treat 'em like they're made of glass," Y/N scolded, her tone unyielding. Bucky, now sporting a mix of irritation and embarrassment, shot back with a sarcastic retort.

"Glass? They're just eggs, not Fabergé. And who knew these chickens were so high-maintenance?"

Bucky, wiping sweat from his brow, replied with a half-smile of his own, “This is absurd. I'm a Barnes, not a farmer.”

How could the sole heir of the country's largest retail company find himself toiling like this? It all stemmed from a bet he made with his father.

2 weeks ago:

Under the glittering Dubai night sky, Bucky, driven by the thrill of rebellion, decided to join a race car event despite his father's explicit warnings. The roar of the engines reverberated through the darkness as Bucky sped along the circuit, the city lights blending into a streak of colors.

As Bucky pulled into the pit garage, the bright lights revealed an unexpected sight – his father, stern-faced and waiting. The realization struck Bucky like a sudden brake, his heart pounding in rhythm with the fading echoes of the race.

His father's disapproval was palpable as he approached, a storm gathering in his gaze.

"Dad!" Bucky exclaimed, but his words were drowned by the tirade that followed. His father, fueled by a mix of anger and concern, chased after him, leaving no room for escape.

The victory that should have been a sweet taste of triumph was overshadowed by the looming storm of his father's wrath.

His father, face etched in a stern expression, strode towards Bucky, a potent mix of anger and disappointment simmering beneath the surface. Bucky's heart sank, realizing that the victory he had just tasted was now tainted by the disapproval in his father's eyes.

"Damn it!" Bucky muttered as he reluctantly shut off the engine and climbed out of the race car. His father's presence loomed over him, a formidable figure casting a shadow on Bucky's moment of recklessness.

His dad, arms crossed, began to unleash a torrent of frustration. "For the whole year, you roamed overseas to live your wildlife. You promised me after graduating that you'd take a year off before entering the company."

Bucky hails from a family that owns the largest retail company in the country, a business empire built over generations. As the sole heir to this colossal enterprise, Bucky enjoys the privileges that come with his family's success.

Bucky is set to inherit Verve, a retail giant in the country. Despite the family's success, his spoiled and impulsive nature creates a conflict between his privileged upbringing and the responsibilities tied to the business.

Seated on a nearby bench, Bucky nibbled on his snacks, a subconscious attempt to deflect the gravity of the situation. His eyes, darting between the snacks and his father, conveyed a mix of guilt and defiance.

He heard his father's words but struggled to understand why he, the heir to the family's business empire, should start as an intern when his friends effortlessly landed positions in their family companies.

"Why intern, Dad?" Bucky interjected his tone, a mix of frustration and confusion. "We own the company. Why don't I get the same treatment as my friends?"

The tension in the pit garage hung thick as his father expressed his feelings. "I'm fed up with it!" he declared, his voice a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Bucky, attempting to downplay the situation, replied nonchalantly, "Dad, chill. At least I gained some money from this."

His father responded swiftly and cut, "And you blew it all in a second! How can I trust our company to you?"

He rubbed his chest, a physical manifestation of the stress and disappointment weighing on him. "I feel like our ancestors are judging me. They were never big spenders like you."

A moment of silence followed as both father and son grappled with the underlying issues. Bucky's father couldn't shake the feeling that he had spoiled Bucky too much, especially since the loss of Bucky's mother when he was still young.

Feeling offended, Bucky retorted, "Do you think I can't handle my own money? I could make a million in one week."

"Really?" his father questioned, a skeptical look in his eyes.

Bucky, fueled by pride, affirmed, "Yes."

The challenge was set. Bucky's father nodded, "Alright, if you could make our farm profitable with a million, I will give you any position you want in the company."

"Really?" Bucky's eyes widened, a glimmer of opportunity sparking.

"Yes. If you manage to do it, I will never interfere with your life anymore," his father declared. Both of them shook hands, sealing the deal.

But then came the unexpected twist. "By the way, I'm going to cut all your access to your money," his father dropped the bomb.

"What?" Bucky exclaimed, shock and disbelief etched across his face.

"Your great-grandfather started his business with $100. You need to appreciate money, stop wasting it all in one day," his father explained sternly.

"But how am I going to live without money?" Bucky protested, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

"I've provided everything you need on the farm," his father countered, emphasizing the gravity of the challenge. "You're my only son, and I don't want you to be a wastrel!"

The moment's intensity lingered in the air as the weight of the challenge and the drastic shift in Bucky's circumstances began to sink in.

Bucky couldn't help but roll his eyes at the daunting challenge ahead. "Fine. I'll show that I can do it on my own. How difficult can it be?" he muttered, perhaps more to reassure himself than anything else.

Oh, how he wished he could take those words back as his Ferrari pulled up to the family farm, the only luxury permitted by his father. To his dismay, the farm appeared desolate and barren, a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle he was accustomed to.

Bucky, sporting his usual city-boy ensemble of expensive leather shoes and a sleek leather jacket, stepped out of the pristine car only to find the uneven terrain immediately wreaking havoc on his attire. Mud splattered on the once-immaculate leather shoes, a cruel irony of the stark contrast between luxury and the rustic farm reality.

As Bucky surveyed the damage to his meticulously polished shoes, his eyes widened with panic. "No, no, no. You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered frantically, attempting to wipe away the mud with his hands, only succeeding in making matters worse.

The realization of his Red Ferrari parked amidst the farm's untamed landscape hit him like a ton of bricks.

A look of horror crossed Bucky's face as he surveyed the mud-smeared exterior of his prized possession. "This is not happening," he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and anxiety.

The once-gleaming Ferrari now stood as a symbol of the clash between opulence and the unyielding demands of rural life, leaving Bucky in a state of mild panic about the fate of his beloved car amid this unexpected farm adventure.

His panic only intensified as he turned his attention to the house assigned to him. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern apartment he was accustomed to. With its weathered exterior and superficial charm, the rustic farmhouse left Bucky in shock.

"Wait, this is my house?" he stammered, disbelief etched across his face. The reality of the situation sank in, and Bucky grappled with the stark contrast between the urban comfort he knew and the quaint simplicity of his new rural abode.

In sheer disbelief, Bucky scratched his head and pulled at his hair. "How am I going to do this? I'm so dead," he lamented, realizing the task's magnitude.

Just as the weight of the situation began to sink in, a voice disrupted his thoughts. "James Barnes?"

Turning around, Bucky saw a woman seated in a farm truck, wearing a practical flannel grey shirt. She stepped out of the truck, her attire markedly suitable for the farm environment.

Still grappling with the shock of the situation, Bucky mustered a response, "The one and only call me Bucky. And you are?"

Undeterred by his casual attitude, the woman retorted with a smirk, "The one who will make your life miserable."

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief. "Is this how you introduce yourself when meeting a new person?" he shot back, a mixture of surprise and amusement playing across his face.

Y/N's face remained stoic, her expression unwavering as she delivered the news to Bucky. "I will be straight to the point; your life won't be easy like in the city," she asserted, leaning down to rest her hands on the wooden rail. "I'll be your mentor."

With a pointed finger, she continued, "We're neighbors. My dad asked me to help you." Her tone hinted at an unspoken determination to ensure Bucky's time in the town would be far from a leisurely escape. She was poised, ready to make him regret ever leaving her domain.

Flashback start

Y/N had returned from the farm two days prior, dropping fresh milk on the kitchen cabinet with plans to make cheese—her mother's favorite. Her family, owners of a dairy farm and several crops, had a livelihood deeply rooted in agriculture. The biggest of their ventures was their dairy farm.

As Y/N washed her hands, her father said their family would assist their new neighbor. Y/N, although accustomed to helping neighbors, Y/N couldn't hide her disdain when she heard the name 'Barnes.' She gritted her teeth at the mere mention of the family.

Her aversion to the 'Barnes' name was reflected in her unyielding body language, a subtle tension in her shoulders, and a clenching of her jaw. The prospect of aiding Bucky, the city boy from the family she held some resentment toward, added an unexpected layer of complexity to her already busy life on the farm.

Years ago, in their relentless pursuit of expanding their retail empire, the Barnes family made a business move that significantly impacted Y/N's family farm. The Barnes Corporation, seeking to acquire more land for development, had set its sights on the quaint farmland owned by Y/N's family.

Despite Y/N's family's resistance and the sentimental value attached to their land, the Barnes Corporation, driven by profit, successfully carried out the acquisition, leaving Y/N's family with no choice but to relinquish the farm that had been in their possession for generations.

The ruthless business dealings and lack of empathy from the Barnes family left a bitter taste in Y/N's mouth.

Despite the Barnes Corporation's relentless pursuit of their farmland, Y/N's family salvaged a small piece of their ancestral land.

But, the memories of losing her family's cherished farm to the corporate giant fueled Y/N's resentment and distaste for the Barnes family.

Flashback end

Y/N flashed Bucky an assuring smile, though it carried an undercurrent of intimidation. Her expression was a blend of warmth and a silent warning. Bucky, feeling the weight of the unspoken challenge, involuntarily gulped.

It was a realization that, from that moment onward, his life was destined to be anything but easy. The smile that seemed promising also bore the weight of a mentorship that would test his resilience in the unfamiliar terrain of the farm.

Still processing the intensity of Y/N's smile, Bucky mumbled uncertainly, “What have I gotten myself into? ... and I have no clue where this is headed." With a mix of trepidation and curiosity in his eyes, he took a hesitant step forward, realizing that the journey ahead was bound to be far more intricate than he had initially bargained for.

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7

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