#you will live haunted by me for the rest of your life

[littleindulgences]

Your day was going pretty good for once, all things considered—you woke up feeling rested, it was your day off, you even finally managed to finish the errands you were forced to put off all week!

…Then you get home. Your fridge is dead.

Of course it is.

You stand in front of the open door with one hand on your hip, the other on your chin, contemplating when the fuck, how the fuck, this could have happened. Your fresh groceries sit on the counter behind you, stuff you just went out to get because you assumed your fridge would still be operational when you returned. It’s your fault, really, for putting the bar so high.

Finally, after a whole three minutes of bemoaning your luck, you resolve to pull out the old cooler you shoved into your closet and put everything that would turn into a food poisoning nightmare on ice. Once you get everything put away, and the puddles of water mopped up, you put in a maintenance order and pray the landlord actually sends someone this time.

You leave the cooler in the corner, crack open a bottle of wine, and mourn the loss of your good day.

A couple days pass and you forget all about the work order. You figured out the next morning that the fridge wasn’t dead after all, it just got unplugged…somehow. Just added fuel to your “the building is haunted” fire. You simply plugged the fridge back in and went about your life, no biggie.

It was a big biggie.

You’re just out fetching the mail when it happens.

“Hello? Maintenance! Is anyone home?” The gruff, deep voice carries easily down the hall. You don’t register it at first, flicking through your mail, until the voice calls out again: “Hello? Maintenance, comin’ in!”

Wait. Maintenance.

The fucking fridge!

You dash down the hall, practically skidding to a stop in front of your apartment where two large—and you mean large, damn—men hover.

You avoid looking them directly in the eye as your pulse throbs in your throat, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You’re sure the whole hall must’ve heard them, fuck.

“I’m so sorry!” you say, awkwardly pushing yourself between the biggest man and your doorway. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing actually wrong, I fixed it already! There was nothing wrong with the fridge, it just came unplugged.” You force a laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You still don’t look at them.

“‘S alrigh’ ma’am, no problem at all,” says the man, and wow his voice is nice—

“It’s just, there wasn’t a way for me to cancel the work order,” you explain. “I’m so sorry you had to come all the way up here.”

Oh God, what if they try to come inside to double check? You’re cursing yourself for picking today to go out in your house clothes—short shorts and a tank that doesn’t completely cover your stomach—but the building was always so hot and you would’ve melted if you stayed in your work uniform—

“It’s okay, ma’am, really,” he’s saying again, “We’re glad there’s not an issue. You live on the second floor with no elevators, we didn’t want to bring a new fridge up anyway.” You giggle for real this time.

Then you risk glancing up at them.

Oh God…

They’re fucking beautiful. The man in front of you—his name tag reads John—is an absolute bear. Thick and broad, covered with hair, smiling gently at you like he really doesn’t blame you for your mix-up. And the guy behind him, you think his tag says Kyle, could be a supermodel: smooth, dark skin, a little leaner than John but still mouthwatering. The lopsided grin he’s giving you makes your heart race. The cap he wears makes him look almost boyish.

“Right,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as breathless as you feel. “Sorry again.”

Kyle absently licks his lips and you think you might pass out.

“Here. In case something else happens, you can reach me directly.” John hands you a crisp business card, lingering just slightly when your fingers brush his. They’re rough. Makes sense.

“Thanks,” you breathe. Kyle looks at you like he’s suppressing a laugh, then taps John on the shoulder, signaling him to leave.

“Take care, love.” John turns away from you with a wink, and you watch his arm flex as he hoists his toolbag and follows Kyle to the staircase. Kyle waves cheekily back at you before he descends.

Once you’re safely inside the apartment, you bury your face in your hands with a deep groan. And if you already begin brainstorming other things that might mysteriously break in the near future, well, that’s your business.

@beloveds-embrace ✨

[vicsstufff]

UNDER THE WOODS — princess!p. bueckers x cinderella!reader

۶ৎ - summary: the mistreatments are way to normalize in your household. after the dead of your father, your new step-mother and her daughters new mission is to make your life miserable, serving them as a maid, until you met her, in the middle of the forest.

۶ৎ - wc: 3,045

۶ৎ - warnings/content: abusive behavior, submissive reader, mentions of death of both parents, not 100% accurate to the movie.

authors note | ONE SHOT! happy valentine’s day!! 💗 can u consider this as a valentine’s special? any grammatical errors will be edit after!! (im to lazy) this idea came from me literally watching the cinderella movie (the live action version) im in love with the dress. enjoy!

im back! where are my beautiful ladies?” a silent scream, lingered its way through the walls of the extended house until it reach your ears. your head meeting the direction of the voice, a small sound came out your lips before losing the grip that you had on your tea party set up. running down the corridors, finding the main door that lead to the outside.

the sound of the horses coming filled the garden, your dad, step down from the carriage that held him safely during one of his many trips. you really loved your dad, but not his job—a businessman— he rarely was home, but the hole made because of his absence was quickly filled by the warming love your mother brought. a wonderful woman, a very beautiful one too, she will sing to you every night, lullabying the sleep into you, making your eyelids heavy.

“my wonderful daughter..” your father let out in awe, contemplating your small figure. you jumped into his arms, surrounding yours around his neck. “i brought you something special.” he whispered in your ear, lowering you to take a seat on the edge of a fuantain, his hand grabbed a nearby suitcase, clicking a few locks before it jumped open. he pulled from the inside a small box, placing it on the center of your hands, he pushed a button on the side and it open abruptly, letting out a blue butterfly. “oh..it’s beautiful.” you said low, a smile coming up.

“will you like to dance with me ma’dam?” he said softly, lowering himself to your level, offering his hand, “of course, gentleman.” you spoke in a fail attempt to mock a seductive tone. your hand meet his rough hands, tired from all the work he endured. helping you up, instinctively, you lifted your feet, stepping on your fathers, he let out a series of high groans and ‘ouch’s’ but stilled grip gently your small hand and stared spinning, not strong enough to knock you off your feet but it still made the air move your hair gracefully, giggles scaped from the bottom of your heart.

happiness doesn’t last long.

you wished it did.

a few years had passed and your mother fell sick, her once bright eyes filled with joy and love, were now replaced with a dark glance, her skin was dry and in some occasions, the cold sweat will linger in her forehead. her cold touch brought goosebumps in your skin, she didn’t lulled you to sleep anymore.

the day her heavy eyelids came to their final rest, it felt empty like if the spirit of the house, yours and your father, had disappeared, all of the once happy memories died with her too.

she gave you all her old dresses, shoes and books, she insisted that you should be a intelligent woman that doesn’t depend on her future husband, the last part made your heart drop, you weren’t that interested in getting a husband any time soon, but if you don’t marry someone quickly, your father might even a arrange one for you. the thought of spending your days washing clothes, cooking, cleaning, satisfying your husband and having children haunted you at night, when your bed suddenly felt a little bit to cold even when the spring brought joy to the flowers and practically all the nature, even humans, or maybe not.

the second time a part of your soul died, it was when your father confirmed your worst fears.

he was going to marry a new woman.

you couldn’t do anything to really avoid the disaster that was perfectly planned to happen.

the carriage arrive sooner than imagined, from your window you could hear it from the distance, losing your mind observing the deeps of the forest and the nearby town. you lazily grabbed your shoes and placed them annoyingly, passing your hands through the dress in a attempt to soothe it.

your father was already outside the door when you finally made yourself get there, a bright smile smoothed the corners of mis smile line, its been years since you have seen that smile. he looked at you with hoped, with a clear ambition to start a new life, without any other choice, you smile softly at him as well. “couldn’t you make yourself more presentable? use one of the dress i brought you?” he whispered as the gates opened, ready to welcome their new members, you let out a small sigh but the smile on your face didn’t disappear.

when the carriage stopped it’s journey in front of you and your dad, he jogged quickly just enough for the carriage’s door opened abruptly, giggles came out the door and bright dresses ame from the dark, anastasia was the first one to make their presence known. your father extended his hand in order to help anastasia step from the carriage, once she stepped on the ground, she started overworking her fan as if the hot weather was attempting against her life. the second one was drizella, her exaggerated hair almost made contact with the top of the carriage and high heels making her trip, she wiggled her way over to anastasia who analyzed your house. “you should stile your hair” drizella remarked, your hair was styled messily in a bun. “your house is so… vintage.” anastasia added. “how was your trip?” you asked before they could make another smirky comment. “what did she say?” anastasia whispered—not low enough because you could still hear her. “i think she is asking us about our travel.” drizella explained like if you were speaking in a another language. “it was, um, exquisite.” anastasia replied awkwardly.

it seem like everyone stopped their tracks once the faint sound of a dress and heels made their way into the conversation. the last one was lady tremaine, a mysterious and wealthy woman. she meet your father during one of his long trips, promising her hand in marriage once she moved with him.

without giving you a glance, she maid her way through the house doors, and scanned the main entrance. anastasia and drizella were quickly to follow her and whisper things to her, definitely about your house. you entered the house along with your dad, that’s when she finally took check you out. her penetrating eyes noticing every single flaw in you. “how about you give the girls a tour around the house.” your father spoke as anastasia and drizella chuckled in amusement making their way up the stairs.

“your daughter is beautiful.” lady tremaine mumbled as you and your new sisters disappeared into some rooms. “oh, yes. she took it from her—“ your father stopped mid-sentence once he saw lady’s tremaine prolonged eye contact and her teasing smirk.

later that night, a inimaginable party was celebrated in your fathers and lady’s tramaine engagement, the wine and whiskey made you feel intoxicated just from the smell, your lungs burned as the smoke of the cigarettes lingered as if it was pure air. both of your ‘innocent’ sisters doll themselves up, amused man surrounding them while they took their sweet time chatting only with those that have money. your father was also talking to his friends, although you only recognized one, a really old friend of his, edward, he is your father’s assistant during his travels. talking about travels, in a few days he had been assigned one, after that, the wedding will happen.

“bring me a nice, shiny necklace!” “i want a big, outstanding dress!” “oh! and a tight corset!” anastasia and drizella demanded loudly as they—surprisingly took turns to talk about their needs. “what do you want, my love?” your father asked as his head turned towards you, grabbing his suitcases and throwing them into the back of the carriage. “just you coming back safely.” you quietly said while grabbing his hand, not wanting to let go. edward started to move the carriage with the help of the horses but you didn’t take your hand away from his, following desperately as the carriage made its way outside the house property, when you couldn’t catch up anymore, you staid still, observing the carriage that disappeared.

a knock could be heard, you weren’t expecting any visits. as the knocking continued, drizella called your name “get the door!” she yelled. as when you got to the door, edward was standing there, soaking wet because of the latest rains happening, the carriage behind him, as well as your fathers belongings. “edward? where is my father?” you quickly questioned the poor man who gripped his hat tightly, he just shook his head, letting fall some tears that had pilled up, he will break in a million pieces if he spoke a word.

realization hit you like a brick, suddenly the air had aggressively pushed one both doors, your breath sharp and fast and your lip started quivering, your knees weakening making you fall in front of edward who’s tears where know fully released and came out like a endless loop. “that means he didn’t bring me my dress?” anastasia growled as her other sister and mother soaked in the news. “anastasia! shut that mouth of yours!” lady tremaine spoke up, for the first time in weeks finally doing something that wasn’t against you. “can’t you see? we are ruined!” she snapped, lady tramaine turn around and stormed off to her room, shutting the door loudly.

the hard sound of heels crashing with the weak wooden floor woke you up abruptly, your neck jointed with a sharp pain spreading towards your lower back, your view was blurred as you remember last nights activities—you had fallen asleep in front of the chimney seeking for any warm that your room didn’t offer you. the new room was practically the old attic, the last room of the house and scariest, drizella and anastasia took your room because theirs was too small and lady tramaine had the guts to replace the room of your beloved mother.

“where is this girl?” lady tramaine groaned as she took a seek for you while waiting for her daughters to come and eat breakfast. “i thought breakfast was ready.” she sneered as you walked with chalks of wood. “it is ma’am. i’m only mending the fire.” you replied while inspecting the fire as it refuse to corporate.

anastasia and drizella finally took their seat in the dinning room, waiting impatiently for the food, tapping their nails against the table, as if it were a clock, counting second by second. “what’s that on your face?” lady tramaine asked as she observed obviously your face as you walked in with trays filled with food, your puzzled face became clear as you didn’t know what she was talking about, placing the food as you looked at the three ladies sitting in front of you. “it’s ash from the fireplace.” anastasia was quick to clear any questions. “clean yourself up.” lady tramaine said, avoiding any eye contact with you. “you’ll get cinders in our tea!” drizella snorted grabbing a cup of tea and stared deeply into it, you grabbed a nearby piece of destroyed fabric, bringing it and cleaning up aggressively your face with it.

“oh, girls leave your sister alone.” lady tramaine cheered as her wicked smile came back into its place as you keep walking in and out with plates, glasses and even more food. it was difficult to organize everything by yourself because lady tramaine had dismissed the household. her glance dartered around the table until it stopped in your plate. “who’s this plate for?” she inquired as she pointed out the plate placed on the spot giving to you on the dining table.”is there someone we’ve forgotten?” she asked faking innocence, she knew deep down that it was your plate. “it’s my place.” you added with a soft smile. “it seems so much to expect you to prepare breakfast, serve it and still sit with us.” she explained rapidly, taking a small breath before continuing. “wouldn’t like to eat when all the work is done?” she inquired pushing slightly your plate away towards you.

you were left speechless as the three ladies looked at you teasingly, a desire to run away kicked in. your shaking hands grabbed clumsily your cutlery and walked away as the loud, rotten sound of lady’s tramaine laugh tormented you as you stormed off to the kitchen.

the tears blurred your vision as you placed weakly the glass plate on the table, a wrong movement slipped the plate from the table crashing down into the floor, an unpleasant sound coming from the crash, to see the disaster you caused made you cry even more. sobbing, you kneeled into the disaster and started picking it up.

the pot where you prepared the tea reflected your heart breaking image, your face swallowed because of the endless tears, still covered by ash. it seemed like your stepmother and stepsisters had indeed transformed you into a merely a creature of ash and oil, a desperate groan escaped your shaky lip.

the horses speed quicken as the path was clear enough. you had grabbed a horse and stormed off to the forest to ride a bit, to distract yourself from they’re horrid coments.

as you deepen yourself more, a reindeer came out of nowhere, taking you and your horse by surprise. the horse jumped in horror as your grip into it not wanting to fall. “whoa, whoa, whoa!” you gasped, the reindeer only dedicated himself to look at you, the moment was interrupted as distant horns and shouts approached your area. “run!” you mouthed to the reindeer, how crazy you were to think that it will listen to you? “or they’ll catch you!” you uttered in desperation as the voices became more and more clear.

once the reindeer finally took note of your desperate attempts to help him, he stroked off but your horse had another plan, storming off with the reindeer too, as if they were playing a cat and mouse game, the sudden change of speed made a ear—piercing scream come out your sore throat.

paige separated herself from the group of guards fallowing the reindeer, when se heard a desperate voice coming from the deeps of the forest, a beautiful one.

“easy, boy!” you groaned noisily, not knowing how to calm the beast. “come on, slow down!” you desperately cried. paige squinted her yes focusing on the quickened animal. “miss!” she screamed, directing her horse towards the scene.

“i’m alright! thank you!” you screamed back but she matched your rhythm, calming down your horse for you, as the horse slowed down she questioned you. “are you alright?” “i’m alright.” you blurted out. “but you’ve nearly frightened the life out of him.” you protested making your horse jogg in cirlcles, the blonde girl mocking your steps. “who?” she asked. “the reindeer! what’s he ever done to you?” you yell out of air, the girl peeking a smile “i must confess i’ve never met him before.” the blonde girl giggled “he is a friend of yours?” she continued, both of your horses mirroring the actions of one another. “by accident, we met just now.” you stated, visibly relieved and now calmed after the scary incident.

“i looked into his eyes and he looked into mine, and i just felt he had so much to do with his life.” you explained getting closer to the fancy-dressed girl “that’s all.” you finished. “miss, what do they call you?” she questioned as soon as you ended speaking. “don’t bother.” you muttered rapidly. “you shouldn’t be this deep in the forest, alone.” she remarked as her she’s wondered into the distance, endless trees and animals. “i’m not alone. i’m with you…” you chuckle. “now, what do they call you?” it was now your time to question, she giggled at your words. “you don’t know who i am?” she said while raising her eyebrows in surprise. “they call ‘p’, well, my father does when he is in a good mood.” she replied as you both laughed. “and… where do you live, miss p?” you asked. “at the palace.” she quickly said. “my father’s teaching me his tricks.” she added. “you’re an apprentice?” you said amused. “you can say that.” she said nodding. “that good.” you opined. “do they treat you well?” you mentioned as your horses speed started lacking but you didn’t bother to notice. “better then i deserve.” she responded as both of your horses stopped, almost closing the distance between you both. “and you?” she inquired. “they treat as they can.” you blurted out, avoiding making eye contact. “i’m sorry.” she whispered seeing your facial expressions go down as your mood changed. “it’s not your fault.” you clarified quickly. “not yours either.” she answered softly. “it’s not that bad.” you said, a small smile creeping through your lips. “others have it worse. we simply must have courage and be kind.” you seconded. “yeah, you are right.” she replied as a laugh came out following the words her mouth let out, you both chuckle. “that’s exactly how i feel.” she explained.

before you could respond again, a long horn interrupted the conversation, your head turned to the direction of the horn fallowed by shouting. “please don’t let them hurt him.” you pleaded. “but were hunting, you see. it’s what’s done.” she said not caring about your pleas of desperation. “just because it’s what’s done doesn’t mean it’s what should be done!” you contradicted. “right, again.” the girl acknowledged. “that means you will leave him alone?” you questioned. “i will.” she assured. “thank you very much, miss p.” you said.

“ah! there your are your high—“ the captain suddenly appeared and was quickly interrupted. “it’s p! p!” she exclaimed quickly. “i’m on my way!” she said irritated. “well, we better get going” the captain desperately said. “miss p..” he finished teasingly. “i repeat myself… im on my way!” she argued her horse buckled and jogged away taking a few glances towards you, then she stopped. “i hope to see you again, miss.” she hinted, her blue eyes not moving away from yours. “me too.” you said, a comforting smile lightened up her face her horse finally catching up with the rest of the group, jogging away.

[blackboxtheater]

voted for them again!

prompt this time is: cozy!

something simple, thanks!

I do believe the people have spoken, but on the off chance that you follow my blog and haven't voted for Mumpearl in the the Mumbo Jumbo ship bracket, you still can! We can show our presence as a small but mighty rarepair and go down with the ship as we sink beneath the waves lapping at Boatem's shores.

I will still take prompts until voting closes so if you wanted to submit, this might be your last chance 👀

But time for prompts!! Cozy prompts!!

So this could be read as a stand-alone season 10 established relationship tidbit, OR as the season 10 epilogue to House of String that I'm never going to write because I literally already have 21 chapters of content and that's just through season 9. If you've been suffering from all the pining in the recent updates, this is a bit of an antidote to that :)

But either way, the interior of Pearl's base, and in particular her double bed next to a wall of trap doors has HAUNTED me (/pos) since she ran around her base in hide and seek with Gem. Something about the vibe just gave me "sunlight streaming through shutters at sunrise" and now you gave me an excuse to write that!!!

Plus Pearl clearly designed a bedroom and actual living space in her base, while Mumbo just makes a giant storage system as a base and sometimes puts a bed places. So the idea that he still is making his base, but actually sleeps and lives at Pearl's is the premise for this setup.

🌙 🌙 🌙

The sound of the last shulker whirling shut echoes through Pearl's storage room.

There is truly nothing as satisfying as a neatly organized storage room with a set of perfectly prepared shulkers right in the middle, ready to be picked up on the way to a brand new build the next morning. Sure, Pearl likes the update this season where they can add text and images to the boxes. It's helpful and does make it easier to know at a glance what is in each box, but there is something so familiar and soothing about a classic, color-coded row of shulkers prepped for an exciting new build.

Now that she's stopped banging around her storage room opening and closing chests, there's a silence that settles over the space. It's a rare sound on Hermitcraft which is why she loves the peace and quiet that only comes in the dead of night.

She loves the chaos and mischief and joy that the other hermits bring to her life. She does. She loves them all more than she could ever describe. But she also has big plans for her builds each season that require lots of time and effort to not only design, but to construct and refine until they are exactly as perfect as she knows they can be. And it's hard to be productive when her communicator is constantly blowing up with Scar's death messages. Or when a wild Gem can appear out of the sky at any moment. Or when Keralis has some new ideas for the flower and dyes shop or when Ren is looking for an extra person to play Hungry Hermits with or when Grian breaks the mail system again or or or or or.

There is always a distraction looking for her during the daylight hours. It's so easy to have a full, busy, wonderful day where she makes zero progress on any of her projects. Which is why she keeps staying up so late season after season.

Sure she could try to fix her sleep schedule this year now that Mumbo is staying with her full time. He's always yawning by 9:30 and crawling into bed by 10. But she likes being able to get some focus time in when the rest of the hermits are fast asleep. Or at the very least deterred from dropping in unannounced by the ever present threat of mobs lurking in every shadow.

And Mumbo doesn't seem to mind that she drifts down to her study as he drifts up to bed.

Pearl does mind though that her dogs seem to have universally decided that sleeping in a comfy, warm bed is better than keeping her company late into the night. Sure the cats are still awake with her, watching her with their reflective eyes as Pearl makes her way up from the storage room to her and Mumbo's bedroom.  But it's not quite the same as previous seasons when she'd regularly been making design updates late at night with a dog curled up at her feet.

But when she open the door to their bedroom, she does get numerous sets of dark eyes turning to look up at her illuminated in the dull glow streaming in through the crack in the door. Mumbo, as always, is completely passed out, rolled on his side and sleeping right through the sound of her quietly slipping into their bedroom. Her valiant guard dogs, however, silently watch Pearl's nightly routine of she softly padding over to the closet to get changed and ready for bed. And, just like every night, once she is finally ready to climb into bed there is a series of soft thump as her babies jump down to clear her side of the bed and give her room to crawl under the covers.

There's one final round of shuffling and adjusting before the whole Pearl/Mumbo compound is settled for the night. There's the soft click of dog paws against the floor as her puppos find their places curled in corners and at the foot of the bed, the rustle of bedsheets as Pearl tucks herself in behind Mumbo, and finally the quite breath Mumbo lets out each night as Pearl curls around him.

When Pearl mentioned this little routine to him, Mumbo swore up and down that he slept right through her shuffling around and he had no idea when she finally ended up coming to bed each night.

While she initially assumed he was just being cute and polite for her sake, the longer they lived together, the more Pearl was inclined to believe him. He really didn't give any indication of being awake each night as she has moved around their bedroom opening drawers and shutting doors as she got ready for bed. But there is a soft noise that he make every night without fail as Pearl curls up again his back, tucking her face between his shoulder blades and into the soft fabric of his well-worn sleep shirt. Pearl almost likes the idea that he isn’t awake and aware that this happens better. It means that even asleep, there is some part of him that's waiting for her to come into bed. A part that doesn’t fully relax until he feels her warmth beside him. And once she's there, he can finally relax, letting out a soft sigh, barely audible over the rustle of leaves outside. She even thinks sometimes that she can feel the last bit of nervous tension easing out of his shoulders as she nuzzles into him, inhaling the smell of soap and fresh cotton.

It's become a familiar enough scent that even after to most chaotic days it helps calm Pearl's thoughts, helping her drift off to sleep under the warm covers to the sounds of Mumbo's even breathing beside her.

🔆 🔆 🔆

Now that Mumbo has had the pleasure of waking up with the sunrise, he's not sure he could ever go back.

There is no jarring alarm or unexpected buzzing from a communicator to jolt him awake. No sharp, sudden distinction between peaceful sleep and full consciousness. Instead, the sunlight filters through the copper trap doors that make up the walls of his and Pearl's bedroom each morning, slowly bringing him to awareness as the day begins.

The soft sound of the birds outside and the warm light against his eyelids is the first thing he's aware of most mornings now. Which wakes him up just enough so he can shifts around and reach out for the warm body even his subconscious knows is sleeping beside him. But the first tendrils of consciousness aren't satisfied with just knowing Pearl is there in the bed next to him, they want her closer and go seeking her out, gathering her sluggishly into his arms and pulling her into him.

That's one of the few things that can still jolt Mumbo awake now; reaching out and his hazy, half asleep brain not finding Pearl within reach. The first time he reached out to find nothing but a cold pillow and the furry back of an equally confused dog blinking back at him, he had startled awake, fumbling for his communicator with the terrible feeling that something bad had to have happened. If Pearl wasn't in bed, Pearl must be missing and in danger, his barely awake brain had concluded. His worried messages, which his brain had not been conscious enough to remember to whisper rather than put in the general Hermitcraft chat, had been greeted by a sheepish Pearl admitting she may have been so focused on her project that she hadn't notice the birds had started singing to tell her she had worked all the way through to sunrise. The messages had also been fantastic fodder for all of his friends to tease him for the rest of the week, even if most of it was good natured teasing about how cute him and Pearl were together.

But this morning isn't one of those unfortunate rare days he wakes up alone, so when Mumbo rolls over his arm curls around Pearl to pull her into his chest. Sometimes he catches a half mumbled 'good morning' or even a sleepy kiss if she rolls into his chest, but this morning she just wraps her arms around his and snuggles back against him with just the barest bit of fleeting consciousness that he knows will be gone again by the time he's fully awake.

But he's in no rush. These warm, cozy moments curled up together each morning are some of his favorite each day and he's not eager to end them too soon. So he spends a few more minutes letting his consciousness slowly come on line, becoming more aware of the world around him as his brain cells wake up one by one.

First, he starts to hear the leaves rustling outside and can feel their movement shift the pattern of sunlight against his eyes lids. He starts to notice the smell Pearl's shampoo and can feel her leg brush against his as she shifts again in his arms. And finally, he hears the click of nails on the floor as their dogs start to grow impatient in their wait for breakfast.

Which is his cue that his precious morning moments are drawing to a close and it's almost time to get up for the day.

By the time he finally opens his eyes, there is already 3 pairs of black dog eyes staring at him over the edge of the bed. The dogs are smart enough to know that Mumbo looking at them means breakfast is soon, and they can stop giving him pleading looks in bed and can go sit quietly by the bedroom door. But they are also smart enough to know that it will be another few minutes before he gets up, taking a few more moments to appreciate the warm, quite mornings now that he's actually awake enough to take everything in.

But Mumbo knows the dogs won’t wait forever, and there's a long list of things he wants to get started on before the rest of the server wakes up and starts causing chaos. So Mumbo presses a kiss to Pearl's temple and slowly detangles himself from her and the warm covers. There's a little grumble she always lets out as he does, but he attributes that more to the sudden chill as he slips out from under the covers rather than her being conscious of him leaving. He knows that by the time he comes back upstairs to change out of his pajamas, she'll be sound asleep, sprawled cross the bed and taking up more space than a single human should be capable of.

But right now, the most pressing concern is the flock of dogs patiently waiting at the bedroom door for him to get breakfast started, and the growing feeling that hot cup of tea sounds like a great idea right about now.

[okawarihappylife]

god im still ridinf that high of sheer euphoria, lifes good

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This is the start of something new

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[millidew]

he really didn’t think it’d end like this

[fish-popsicle]

happy birthday viictim @viibingfox

[amatres]

you know i kinda realize that by how my timeline is set up, it could 100% be possible that Jowan was the grey warden commander for awakening and even witch hunt. lol. lmao even

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Seele (Honkai: Star Rail). Listen, I used to write her and I miss her a bit, and also: there's Belobog people around. And also, well, she's much more interesting than people give her credit for. Also, prepare for some 'rewriting', because Belobog's pacing in specific ways kind of blew a little bit much.

[willtasker]

[wishbonedean]

Supernatural *is* a horror show first and foremost.

it has been said before but i feel the need to state again that the finale of supernatural is not only the most insane case of accidentally making a soul crushing psychological horror while trying to make a satisfying conclusion but the only case of that happening ever (at least to my knowledge.) i’ve seen bad tv endings, but never a tv ending that was trying to be comforting instead telling me that all of my worst nightmares are true and that me and the ones i hold close will never ever love openly without fear. again, so many before me have made this point but god. they killed him on rebar. he never got to be free

[psychoticwillgraham]

*talking about funerals with mom and sis for some reason*

me: ‘well y’all should just throw me in the dump bc I have no insurance due to being a constant suicide risk’

sis: ‘well then don’t fucking kill yourself because if you do, im not footing the 12k bill to bury you because suicide would be inconsiderate to us and wouldn’t deserve a burial. moms not allowed to pay either, so your ass is getting burned’

me: *through watery eyes* ‘ok :))’

[catchastarorten]

—You’ll be with me.

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: being a previous winner of the games, the memories still haunted you. In-ho knew how bad it could get and he wanted you to feel safe, so he tried his best to give you comfort.

Warnings/content: fluff, comfort, temple kiss, a bit of angst, mentions of reader’s backstory as a player in the games, mentions of trauma, mentions of gunshot, blood, violence, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: 906

The air in the compound always felt thick, the silence lingered in the air. A quiet kind of weight that clung to the walls, the floors, even the people who roamed them. It had been years since you had been a participant in the games, years since you survived when so many hadn’t—where the memories of those days whispered in every corner. And yet, you were back here, year after year. You found yourself with him, In-ho.

You were a survivor. Years ago, you had stood on that blood-streaked ground, faced death at every turn, and somehow clawed your way out alive.

You hadn’t won because you were ruthless, but because life had refused to let you go. He oversaw your games, saw the way you fought but still left a piece of your heart filtered, still kept something kind. It was what drew In-ho to you in the aftermath of it all.

He was the Frontman, a man who wore a mask to the world and had barriers around his heart. But now with you. With you, he softened. He was unguarded, even. You had seen him beneath the cold exterior, you gave him gentleness and a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed, the kind that healed him in ways he didn’t know was possible.

But what you could never get used to was the feeling of knowing. Knowing that beyond these walls, people were fighting for their lives, as you once had. It lingered in the shadows of your mind, surfacing in flashes that made you sweat through the nights or turn cold at the sound of anything resembling a gunshot.

In-ho always noticed before you could hide it. He would find you, pull you into his arms, and remind you with his steady voice and warm embrace that you were safe now.

He understood in ways no one else could, because he too had been shaped by the games, though in a different way.

“You don’t have to watch,” he said to you the first time you expressed interest in sitting with him during one of the games. He was seated on the leather couch in front of the screen, the monitor displaying the players being led into one of the ‘playgrounds.’

His hand rested on the armrest, fingers curling slightly as if restraining himself from reaching for you. “It’s not something you need to see again.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, stepping closer. “I’ve faced it before.”

In-ho looked at you then, his mask already set aside on the table. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the conflict in them—the worry, the love, the fear that he might be wrong to let you stay.

His expression softened further, and he reached out a hand to you. You took it, and he pulled you close, guiding you to sit beside him. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, his warmth enveloping you as if he could shield you from everything. “Are you sure?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. The screens flickered, showing the players, their expressions were hauntingly familiar—those wide eyes, the curious glances, the way they clung onto the hope that they might win the prize money to pay off their debts.

You sat close, knees brushing his as the game unfolded on the screen before you. It didn’t take long for the first shot to ring out. A player dropped to the ground, lifeless, and you felt it then—the cold rush of panic creeping up your spine.

Your fingers twitched, the memories clawing their way back into your mind. The sound of gunfire echoed in your ears, overlapping with screams you could still remember too vividly.

In-ho noticed, his hand was on yours in an instant, fingers firm but gentle as they wrapped around your trembling hand. “You don’t need to put yourself through this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

You didn’t say anything, but continued watching.

In-ho exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t let go of you either. His presence was steady, like an anchor keeping you from being swept away by the tide of your memories.

As the game progressed, the inevitable deaths began to unfold. You flinched at the sound of gunfire crackling through the speakers, at the way the players dropped one by one, their dreams snuffed out in an instant. Your breath came quicker, your chest tightening as if an iron band was wrapping around your ribs.

In-ho pulled you closer, his other arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pressed you against his chest, his heartbeat steady and calm against your ear. “Breathe,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “It’s over now. Just breathe.”

You did as he said, focusing on the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his arm around you. The screen in front of you showed the survivors—those who had managed to stumble through the carnage—but you didn’t look at it anymore. You buried your face in In-ho’s chest, letting his scent and his touch ground you in the present.

He never made you feel like you had to be stronger than you were. And you knew he carried his own weight too—his role as the Frontman, the choices he had made—but he never let it interfere with his devotion to you.

[seumyo]

the price to pay when you’re a passenger princess.

You knew that there had to be a catch when Bakugou said he’d pick you up after your 12-hour shift at the hospital. But the thing was, you were too exhausted to dwell on the thought.

Or so you thought.

“You look dead on your feet,” he commented as he opened the door for you.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you replied dryly, tossing your bag into the backseat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

The sleek, jet-black Porsche 911 Turbo S roared through the empty streets like a predator on the hunt, the low rumble of the engine vibrating through your very soul. Bakugou, of course, looked completely at ease, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, a calm expression seen on his face.

You’ve come to understand that your husband was relatively calm when not provoked.

���Katsuki,” you started as the car picked up speed, “you do realize this is still a hospital zone, right? Maybe don’t speed like you’re in a Fast and Furious movie.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally just did.”

“Relax,” he drawled, shifting gears with precision. “You know I’ve got this.”

You, on the other hand, were internally reciting every safety procedure you could think of in case of an unfortunate circumstance to come.

“Should I call my assistant to make an appointment in advance?”

Bakugou snorts. “What? Don’t trust me?”

“Oh, I trust you. It’s the laws of physics I don’t trust,” you muttered under your breath, earning a low chuckle from him.

The worst part? There was barely any traffic this late at night, which only encouraged Bakugou to push the limits of what his new Porsche could do. You glanced at the speedometer and instantly regretted it.

“Katsuki, I swear to God—”

“What? It’s not like I’m breaking the speed limit,” he said with mock innocence, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The Prefectural Government’s Public Safety Commissions should really revoke his license one of these days. Or you might not live to see the next one.

“By less than two!”

You leaned your head back against the seat, staring at the darkened city skyline as it blurred past you. You were exhausted from your shift, your feet aching, bone tired, but all of that was being drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of your life flashing before your very eyes.

You double-checked your seatbelt again. It’s never too late to actually be safe.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to yell at me for being too hot and good at everything.”

“Wow? The audacity of my husband making such a bold claim,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Have I fed your ego too much that you’re about to float away like a hot-air balloon?”

“Didn’t deny my claim.” He got you there.

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Just so you know,” you muttered, clutching the grab handle even tighter as he effortlessly weaved between two cars, “if I die tonight, I’m haunting you. And I’ll make sure to mess with you when you’re trying to sleep.”

“Good,” he said with a grin, finally glancing your way. “At least then you’d be with me all the time, huh?”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? While you’re driving like a maniac?”

“Who says I can’t multitask?”

Before you could fire back with another retort, the car slowed as you neared your apartment complex. Your death grip on the handle loosened ever so slightly, though your heart was still racing.

When Bakugou finally parked, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You unbuckled your seatbelt, your hands still trembling a little.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too or whatever.”

“I—wait, you actually said it.”

“What? Can’t a man just say he loves his wife?”

“Good point, but you rarely say it!”

“I pick you up after your every shift and make sure you don’t die of starvation or poor health. That’s enough than saying it, no?”

“But you said it! So it’s different.”

“Not.”

“It is!”

“Not.”

“Is!”

Terrifying car rides aside, there was no one else you’d rather be stuck with. Even if your husband drove you absolutely crazy—both on and off the road. This must be the price of being Bakugou Katsuki’s passenger princess.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[milkmily]

Eat, Bath, Maybe me?ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──────────────────────────

Mr. Crawling x Reader

Smut cuz I can and I want him. Also because this fanart really inspired me a lot heheheh. I went to the ER today guys 🥲 I was in sm pain. I have gallstones. Yay. So fun.

Art by:@/Tado25

Living with Mr. Crawling came with its ups and downs. After living with him for a while, there have been some changes to your day to day life with him. For starters, coming home after a stressful day at work/classes and met with loneliness was met by his giggles. He crawls to you and hugs your legs as he says, “You back.” As he pulled you down to him so that he could kiss you.

Your bed at nights no longer felt super Lonely and cold. You'd be met with small giggles and his big hands running through your hair or your Body.

And well, your sex life changed too. Mr. Crawling really really likes to make you feel good. At times, his pleasure is pushed behind just so he can make you feel good after a stressful day after work/classes. Or in general any day. He sees you tensed up after work and he pulls you down for a kiss, and soon it just turns into your pants down as his face is in between your legs eating your pussy out as he holds your legs up and apart to prevent you from closing them. He sees you sitting down watching TV and he's in-between your legs making you cum already for the 3rd time with his tongue.

But most Of all he just really loves to feel you wrapped up around his cock. When you are sleeping he gently is tugging at your panties and begging for you to let him. Or he's humping his poor boner on your ass as you sleep. And of course, you always help him when you can. A thigh job, a tit job, a hand job and a blow job. But your pussy is always available for him. And he knows that already.

Now some of the downs are when he keeps waking you up in the middle of the night to his giggles and touches. Also when he tried to cook for you, he almost burned down your apartment. Anddddd people now think your apartment is haunted because they hear giggles and random sounds inside your apartment when your neighbors know that you are living alone.

But honestly you don't mind any of it. You just like that Mr. Crawling is there with you. Per usual, you walked back to your apartment after class. You were pretty stressed up already since you had just finished a test and all you thought about was what the hell would your score be. Thankfully, work gave you some days off to study and for your exams. You open the door with your key and are greeted with a giggle. “Hi Mr. Crawling.” You say as you take your shoes off and look down. Your eyes go wide and gulped. “You home.” He spoke. Why are you so shocked right now?

Well, he's wearing an apron. Only an apron. “you want eat? Want a bath? Maybe…” he crawls closer to you as you froze there, heart beating fast. He hugs your legs as He looks up at you. “Me?” He asked and giggled as he tugged at your skirt. You looked away and sigh. “Bath.” You say. He giggles and crawls to the bathroom. You catch your breath as you hold tightly to your shirt. Holy shit.

You walk into the bathroom and are met with a bathtub filled with water and some random soap. You looked down and saw a whole empty bottle of your favorite and brand new bubble bath. Oh God. You hear Mr. Crawling giggle as he gently splashes the water. Who cares, it's cheap soap anyways. You stay to take off your sweater when you feel his hand pull down your skirt. He grabs your panties and pulls Them down. He brings his face closer to your pussy lips and sniffles. He pressed a kiss on it, making you shiver. “Good.” He says and helps you out of the rest of your clothes.

In the bathtub, he was massaging your shoulder, making you moan and groan at the feeling of his hands on your shoulders. His hands would move from time to time to cup your breasts and pinch your nipples and massage them. But you didn't mind, you loved it. His lips would meet your neck and leave gentle bite makes On your neck.

Once out of the bathtub, he helped you dry up and put on your comfortable baggy and long gown. You sigh, feeling super satisfied and happy. “What is there to eat…?” You asks softly as you walked out and Mr. Crawling crawls right beside you. At the kitchen you are met with some messy dishes. “Hmm…” You start to wash them and clean the counter. Mr. Crawling looked at you but he wasn't grinning or giggling like he always does. He seemed…guilty. You come back home from a stressful day and have to clean? That was his mistake. “Me sorry.” He spoke and you shook your head. “It's okay.” You smiled as you cupped his face. He leans on to your touch and smiles.

“How about you help me?” You say and he tilts his head. “You help me?” And he immediately nods.

But honestly the food waited. As you were cutting up some carrots Mr. Crawling took advantage of the gown you had on and went inside. He pulled your panties to the side and rubbed his nose and sniffled. “He-Hey stop! You'll make me cut myself.” You say and jump as you feel his tongue slide between your folds. You let out a shaky sigh and brought Your ass out more to give him more acces. You could hear him giggle before he brought his lips to your clit, sucking and licking it. You closed your eyes as you moaned and tried your best in cutting up the carrots. But the way his tongue licked and his hands held tightly to your thighs. He moaned as he tasted your wet pussy and stuck his tongue in. You jumped and moaned, the knife now on the table, long forgotten alongside the carrots.

Your legs were going weak as he kept flicking his tongue on your poor clit. You hold onto the counter and whine as he pushes his fingers inside of you. So long and nice, they always always made you feel good. He always made you feel soooo good. “Mr. Crawling m- ah fuck like that. Please.” You whined and he continued to push his fingers in and out of your pussy, your juices leaking down to his face. Honestly, you've gotta get used to his cold touch. You don't scream every time he touches you with his big cold hands. They are something you are used to and his coldness always makes you Feel 10× better. You lift up the gown to see him eating your pussy out, so concentrate on you.

You pushed his head away, earning a whine from him and a small frown. You smiled at him and looked down to see the very huge tent he had that his poor apron Did a horrible job at hiding. “Stand.” You say and point at him. “you stand.” He doesn't really like standing up in front of you. He’ll do it when you aren't home. He's scared that you'd get scared by his height. but as you lift up your pretty gown and lean on the counter ass out, he couldn't help but do as you say so. And God, he is tall. He lifts up his apron that was covered with his precum. You could feel his long cock on the back of your ass and you push yourself More on to him. He whines and grabs your ass.

You were way too short for him to reach. He groans as he tries to position his cock to your aching pussy. You gasp as you were suddenly lifted up by him and put your knees on the kitchen counter. Your eyes go wide as you feel him shove his cock inside, the stretch making you moan.

He whimpers and whines as he pushes his hips back towards you. You moan as your eyes go wide. He looks down at your ass and holds on to it as he squeezed. “Hmpt- good?” He asks and you nod. “Good.” With tears in your eyes. He was a bit worried and tilted his head. “You not good?” He asks and you shake your head. “You just feel really good Mr. Crawling.” You whined. “Me good. Really good.” You repeat and moan as his hips move again. He groans and starts to quicken his pace. He whimpers and whines as he moves faster. You were holding on To the end of the counter as your poor cunt got pounded. You felt so good holy shit. His cock had you forgetting everything and anything.

You covered your mouth as you remembered your neighbors but he pushed his hips harshly, making you moan loudly. He moved his hands to cup your breast as he kept pounding on to you. Your eyes roll back and moan. His cock made your pussy feel so good, skin slapping and his cock wet and covered with your pussy's cream. You couldn't last Anymore and come on his cock as you scream. Your eyes rolled back, yoru back arching more as you cum. But that didn't stop him. He kept thrusting and thrusting, making you whimper and whine. “W-Wait- Oh my god!” You moaned.

He pulled away and giggled as he Panto and saw your pussy juice dripping.

He pants and turns you. You whimper at his touch and he lifts you up, pinning your back on the cold wall. Without needing his hands, he pushed his cock right back into your cunt with a thrust. Your back was on the kitchen wall as Mr. Crawling pounds Your pussy, his hands lifting you up as he pounds and groans into you. Your eyes rolled back as he kept fucking you. You couldn't even speak. All you were doing was moaning and screaming. Your hands holding his shoulders to support yourself.

He lifts your gown up to show your pretty bouncing tit's. He groans and brought one to his mouth as he fucked you. Your poor tit had bites and hickeys all over them. His thrusting was becoming sloppy. Without even telling him, you cum once again on his cock. Your body felt super sensitive and all of his thrust made you cry. Soon, he thrusted one last time into you harshly and came inside of you. He groans and whimpers and pulls out. His cum dripped out of you onto the floor. He nuzzles His face on your neck and whimpers. “Me like you.” He says in-between pants.

“like you.” You say back.

Heyyy @cyberzombi3

😝 gimme

honestly i love you all sm lol like omg omg❤️❤️

I have so many random body parts and souls too.

[brunchable]

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

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

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

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

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

Bucky Barnes was retired.

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

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

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

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

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

Phase 1: The Handyman Hero Phase

Duration: One Month

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

You blinked. “Bucky, it’s fine.”

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

“Chaos,” you muttered.

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phase 2: The Google Scholar Phase

Duration: Two Weeks

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

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

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

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

“Research on… what?”

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

“Uh—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really—”

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

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

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

Phase 3: The Home Décor Perfectionist Phase

Duration: Two Exasperating Weeks

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

“What’s a paisley?”

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

“Bucky, no—”

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

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

“It makes the space feel bigger.”

“Bucky, this is a two-bedroom house!”

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

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

Phase 4: The Amateur Detective Phase

Duration: One Overly Suspicious Month

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he likes getting his mail?”

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

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

The Girl Scout Incident: When Bucky Barnes Met Thin Mints

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly face-palmed. Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Y/N, this could be—”

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

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

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

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

You shot Bucky a glare. “Apologize.”

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

“Bucky.”

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

The girl blinked up at him, clearly not following.

“Bucky!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky, she’s seventy.”

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

“Or she’s trying to stay in shape?”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

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

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

“I—what?”

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

“…is that a crime?”

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

“Like… groceries?”

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

“Maybe he forgot something?”

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

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

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

“For science?”

“Yes.”

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

Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

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

“He was being shady!”

“He’s a mailman!”

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

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

“Paranoid?” he offered, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what?”

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

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

Duration: Ongoing, with Fur Everywhere

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

“This is Alpine,” he announced proudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or spying on the neighbors.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky…”

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

“Not for a second.”

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

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

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

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

“Refined,” Bucky insisted.

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

“Selective.”

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

“Observant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His grin widened. “Hell yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

Ten months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

Baby at six months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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