#he would come home and cook them a new meal and | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lietogirlsss · 4 days ago

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SPRING INTO SUMMER !

girl!dad bucky barnes x mom!reader

𝖘ummary: the one where the thunderbolts all think it's weird that bucky keeps pulling a disappearing act every couple of months, only that he's been taking the quinjet and coming back with a raging tan. After a particularly harrowing mission in amsterdam, they needed a place to lie low and bucky is already regretting his decision before even making it.

𝔞uthor's note: was craving for some domestic bucky fics and I remembered oh shit yeah I can write, amazing use of my free will and free time! This was set in the middle of the 14 month period as the new avengers(z). Also I watched Monday... yeah.

𝔴ord count: 9.4k

𝔴arnings: violence, blood, mentions of various weapons of defense, humor as a coping mechanism for trauma, various injuries, swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of death, your daughter is described with curly dark brown hair and blue eyes, reader is an ex widow.

Five highly-trained assassins and a Bob walk into a bar and it becomes apparent to them that they seriously needed to go back to the drawing board with their plan of attack.

What was supposed to be a standard recon mission with moderate to heavy security on the exclusive bar they've been observing for the past two months became a really ugly, bloody battle where they were ambushed by black ops that spawned from nearly every direction.

Yelena had gotten intel on a potent form of mdma being smuggled by an international pharmaceutical company and selling it to exclusive night clubs all around Europe run by Hugo LaForteza, a Spanish crime syndicate with ties to organized crime. That same pharmaceutical company has tried burying their sketchy past of producing biological weapons and super soldier serum made from scratch before Thanos' snap and instead dabbling into the production of drugs after nightclubs rose to popularity again after everyone returned from being Blipped.

Now, a couple years later they were still up and running and over 40 people have been reported missing all over Europe. The rest of them managed to locate the warehouse where the victims were kept before they were set free and were sent home to their families

Now that the company had been exposed, they've done a good job at covering their tracks and hiding in plain sight. It was only the beginning. Ava, Yelena, and Bucky scouted potential hideouts, safehouses, certain covert routes the supply trucks have been taking to move the products, cross-referencing bank transfers and purchases to off-shore bank accounts containing billions of laundered money. Meanwhile, John weaselled his way into federal databases, built profiles against a hundred men and women who have been involved with the human trafficking scandal. Alexei has been revamping the Avengers brand by spending several hours a day on ms paint designing new avengers merch and arguing with vendors on Amazon when the set of hoodies and shirts he ordered two weeks ago came looking like someone taking a remedial Home Economics class sewed them together.

Meanwhile, Bob has been working in the background, making everyone cups of coffee that had been too watered down, too strong, or too sweet during long, intense nights of work. He went out one afternoon and purchased several cookbooks containing recipes for meals from around the world and promised the rest of the team that their long streak of ordering takeout every night was over because he would be the one cooking for them. So far, there had been no complaints, Bob had become an excellent cook.

After a year's worth of hunting down and investigating leads they finally took to the streets and began taking down nightclubs, bars, and raves from inside out. Flushing out the wealthy and loyal clientele to get closer to shutting down all the suppliers and manufacturers across Europe. They went in strong and took down Berlin, then Ibiza, followed by Rome, Belgrade, then Amsterdam.

And through it all there had been a consistent theme.

Bucky had a habit of disappearing every now and then, usually during the crack of dawn and then coming back a couple of days later with a harsh tan that Alexei had made abundantly clear suited him.

"You could pass off as summer catalogue model! All you need is coconut oil! Take off your shirt, give people what they want!"

John's mentioned it offhandedly once or twice, asking the rest of them if they knew why Bucky kept disappearing every now and then. Ava quickly brushed him off, claiming that he should worry less about Bucky and more about the fact that his shield's only use to him now is to hold lettuce, meat, cheese, and beans. With the matter getting increasingly pressing caused by their own detective work, the rest of the team was itching to find the real reason behind it. There had been multiple accounts in which John had attempted to ask Bucky about it, only for him to be pulled away by either Ava or Yelena unceremoniously. Or other instances where John managed to corner Bucky in the kitchen and ask him about it, only for him to deflect the question or glance at him and walk out like it was nothing.

Yelena did the math. Bucky left every three to four months, his trips lasting either three days or a week and there was no in between. She kept a journal where she would write entries regarding Bucky's unusual absences, possible theories as to why, and if he had been double crossing them- a list of how they would kick him out of the team. So far the list has been empty.

A week later after another night of endless tossing and turning in her shared bedroom with Ava when they were in Amsterdam- she swears she hears the door down the hall click as if somebody closed it from the outside. Then, after dismissing it as nothing, she sees a shadow swiftly pass by the gap the door had to the floor. She sits up. Ava, being the heavy sleeper she was, did not notice Yelena quietly slip out of the room, closing the door behind her.

She is startled by the figure of John in his pajamas standing by the window, who clearly has just woken up about 10 seconds ago and dragged himself out of bed without giving two shits about the fact that anybody from a mile away could see the outline of where drool had once pooled by the side of his mouth. "Jesus Walker, what the hell are you doing??? You look like a pervert." She hissed, narrowing her eyes at him before he placed a finger to his lips and shushed her aggressively.

"It's Bucky, pretty sure I just caught him in the act." He says, jerking his neck to the side, beckoning Yelena over to the window. She plodded towards him and lo and behold, there stood Bucky with his knapsack slung around his shoulders, his hands busy with untying the busted boat they rented that was currently floating in the canal. "Nearly missed the sound of his bedroom door close because of Alexei's snoring. I swear he could level this apartment if he wanted to."

"Where is he off to now?" Yelena asks, albeit somewhat rhetorically.

John clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I've got no clue. Who knows what's going on inside that man’s head?"

“A black and white 24-hour montage of him and Sam with a Mariah Carey song in the background?” Yelena replies under her breath, causing John to laugh through his nose.

“I was gonna say the same thing-”

"-what are you two doing by the window???" Ava's voice grumbled all of a sudden, causing Yelena and John to whirl their heads around. "You do realize it's too early to stare at murky canal water, right?"

Yelena makes a face at her. "Wh- that isn't what we're doing."

"Well then what's got you two staring out the window for???"

"Bucky's out by the dock, I'm convinced he's headed to the quinjet to pull a Houdini on us again." John explained, peering out of the window once more as he pointed at a spot on the glass pane. Ava walks over, Yelena makes room for her as all three of them watch Bucky stand by the boat, talking to somebody on his burner phone. Muffled segments of the conversation could be heard from the slim aperture the window had to the windowsill. Words like "be right there" and "they don't know" were heard, which made all three of them exchange glances of suspicion.

"Who is he even talking to?" Ava asks them. "D'you guys got any ideas?"

"There's no way it could be Sam..." John began quietly, making Yelena and Ava furrow their brows as they turned to him. "Right?” He supplements.

"Too soon. You heard him when he came back from Louisiana, he sounded like someone gutted his cat."

“Why can’t I just crack the window open??? It would make more sense to just call Bucky from up here-” John wonders, extending his arm to open the window before Yelena and Ava stop him.

“-Don't open the window!” She and Ava hiss, startling John.

“Fine! Alright!” He exclaimed, almost scandalized. "So who else has he got on speed dial? Do you think it's still Congressman shit?"

"He sent that resignation letter ages ago."

"It's definitely not Valentina."

"What about that assistant of hers? Me- Melissa? What was even happening with them when we were in New York?"

Ava makes an unimpressed sound. "I don't know, but I'm not interested in finding out anything about that dynamic at all."

"Get your head out of the gutter, Ava."

“Wait, who are we talking about?" Bob suddenly spoke up from behind them making all three of them flinch once more, causing a commotion. Yelena grabs the hem of Bob's pajama shirt and yanks him to the floor as the rest of them fit themselves underneath the window, terrified that Bucky might've heard them in the scuffle.

"Jesus, we seriously gotta tie a church bell around you or something." John scowled in between Ava and Bob. "He's too quiet."

"Thank you?" Bob chuckles, baffled, in between Yelena and John.

“We didn't hear him at all.”

Yelena sighed, craning her neck to take a peek at Bucky once more before sinking back down on the floor resembling a sack of flour. "Ava go look, I'm not looking."

Ava snaps her head to look at her. "Why am I doing it?"

“Because,” Yelena began, widening her eyes and raising her shoulders to accentuate her point. “-Because you’re the only one out of all of us who can go invisible.”

Ava screws her face even tighter. “Is that your only argument to get me to do something none of you want to do?"

“The situation kind of warrants stealth though.” John appends, coming to Yelena's rescue in which he is recognized for.

“Exactly!”

Ava wasn’t happy about the idea of having to phase this early in the morning but does so without any more protest. Her eyes screw shut and in the blink of an eye she becomes invisible, they see a little iridescent shimmer where her body was supposed to be as the meager amount of sunlight piercing through the heavy clouds floating over Amsterdam hits her invisible form. A second later she reappears as a mechanical whirring could be heard from outside.

“He's ready to leave, the boat's acting up again though.” Ava reports as the rest of them scramble to get on their knees and look outside the window where Bucky could be seen at odds with the motor of the boat, pulling the cord repeatedly until he yanks it too far and the boat engine roars to life.

“Soooo,” Ava prolonged. “Are we gonna do something about it or-”

“-What's Bucky even doing down there?-”

“-Planning to go on a ride around the canal-”

“-he is? But Bucky doesn't even like riding boats let alone that piece of junk-”

“-we were kidding, we obviously don't know shit-”

“-huh, coulda fooled me-”

“-Again if we just open the window-”

“-We're not opening the window!-”

“Look, we can't just go in blind and demand an answer out of him, we gotta have a plan.” Yelena fought, eyeing John whose mouth opened. “and it can't be you cornering Bucky expecting him to tell you the truth.”

“It was worth a shot.” John hissed. “Besides, I haven't seen any of you try and get the truth outta him.”

“That's like picking a fight with fucking optimus prime, do you want to get your throat to get crushed like an empty soda can?” Ava argues, glancing up at John as he glances outside of the window again.

Bob reaches up to turn the rusted knob of the window as the rest stare at him in horror. "You know what?, instead of us sitting here and guessing why don't I just-"

As he twists the aged knob to the side, instead of the window lowering inward like windows in the Netherlands usually do, it completely dislodged from its hinges and slides inside, the glass shattering as it comes in contact with the floor in great commotion. The rest of the team only barely managed to roll away before they were inevitably pancaked by the window- Ava who tucked and rolled towards the cupboards, John who army-crawled towards the table, and Yelena who lurched towards the entrance to the kitchen with Bob in tow.

They gawk both at the wreckage and each other, startled. A beat passes and they hear a sudden drumming of heavy footsteps coming from one of the bedrooms, the door flew open reverberating through the entire apartment.

“YELENA?! YELENA?!-”

Alexei comes running into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of boxers and a robe- he instantly relaxes when he sees Yelena glaring at him over her shoulder. “Hi, dad.”

The man stands there, stupefied. “Wh- what are you doing???”

Yelena pauses, lost in thought. “People-watching.” She settled.

“He's gone-!” John's voice suddenly called out. Ava, Yelena, and Bob rush towards the window only to see that the boat was gone and Bucky along with it. Each one of them shared a look of defeat and a disgruntled sigh that seemed to ricochet across each member of the team as they moved around the window. They promised each other that this wouldn’t be the last time they’d catch Bucky leaving and hear some lame excuse to patch up the real story. When he finally came back after a week, they all entered the kitchen together which earned them a raised brow from Bucky who was enjoying a cup of coffee by the window.

“You guys look like a herd of terrified gazelles moving through a grazing patch.”

“Bucky,” John began. “We need to talk.”

He raised his eyebrows. ”Oh good, are you guys finally gonna tell me who opened the one window the landlady told us not to open, broke it, and is helping me explain to her why there's broken glass hidden under the fridge?”

“No, that isn't what we wanted to talk abo-”

“-It was Bob, Bob did it.” Ava interjects, glancing over at Bob who stiffened at the sudden turn of the conversation.

Bucky's eyes shut tight as he pinches the bridge of his nose, a familiar habit. “How many times do I gotta make myself clear not to open things you aren't supposed to open?”

Bob's eyes widened even more. “I- I only opened it because John and Yelena and Ava were arguing about why you kept on disappearing, an-and they saw you outside with the boat so-”

“-Exactly, why were you outside with the boat at 7 in the morning?” Yelena appends quickly, narrowing her eyes at Bucky, his face passive.

Alexei chuckles as he leans forward to look over at Yelena. "Right??? Makes you think- Where is that guy off to all the time??? He is like every cheating father in the American dramas that claims he is going on so-called work trip but is secretly seeing mistress that looks like she just graduated from highschool." He chimes, albeit rather colourfully.

“I wanted to do a sweep of the red-light district to see if our informant’s been telling us the truth. He has. That special event some of LaForteza's men are hosting tomorrow night is the perfect cover for some recon, slipping in and out the bar would be easy. Then I had to stay in Washington for a couple of days because I got my couch reupholstered and needed to turn over the keys to my office.” Bucky says with ease, like he'd practiced this a dozen times.

“Bullshit.” Yelena spat, which had the same effect as a streak of lightning lighting up the sky seconds before a deafening thunderclap.

"We can't work a mission where you disappear days at a time when we’re only left with a little note on the fridge.” Ava seethed. “Gone to collect my things at the office, need to sign off on some documents- it doesn't take a week to do either of those things, Bucky. We know you’ve submitted your resignation letter for Congress bloody ages ago!”

“Well I don't know if you haven't noticed but it's pretty hard trying to do all these things when you're under cover and have to fly across oceans, so I'm sorry if I keep you waiting.” Bucky reasons.

“We aren't leaving you alone until we get the truth outta you. No more stupid excuses, no more lies.” Says John this time. “Being lied to feels like shit, you don't gotta be a hundred years old to know that.”

“Why the hell have you been sneaking around like we wouldn't notice and taking phone calls when you think nobody’s listening?” Yelena asks once and for all. The sunlight had only now started peeking out over the roofs of the hedges of houses and shops that lined the streets. Beams of buttery sunlight illuminated the otherwise dreary kitchen. They all stood there, blanketed by immense silence. "Are you going to answer my question or are we going to sit here in dead silence?"

Bucky sets his mug down, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine, but let's get one thing absolutely straight. I'm not pulling a goddamn Lotso on a mission I've risked my life numerous times for."

John straightens from his spot instantly. "How does he know Lo- have you watched Toy Story 3?” his eyes swung like a pendulum, looking at Yelena beside him to Bucky in front of him.

"Who?" Yelena wonders, raising an eyebrow.

Bob slumped. "Come on, the pink bear? The one with the cane?"

"Ahhh," Yelena says after a beat, pointing a finger at him. "Is he the one that kept eating sandwiches and went to jail?"

Ava opens out her hands, palms facing the ceiling as she frowns at Yelena. "No, that's Paddington. And there's more to his story than him going to jail! he's helped out so many people, made so many marmalade sandwiches, and is the most polite bear that ever graced television."

"So why did he get arrested?"

"He was framed! Because Hugh Grant stole the pop-up book he's been saving up for!" Ava argued.

Yelena's brows furrow even more. "Who's-"

"-Are you done? Because my coffee's getting cold." Bucky drawled, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand.

"Look, man, if you're working against us now is a good time to tell us." John chimes in, moving past the rest of his teammates and advancing on Bucky. “I don't know what kinda game you're playing with us here, watching us connect the dots while you’re off someplace else doing only God knows what- but if you can’t already tell we’re a team now. Which means we do this shit as a team. If we can't trust each other, why bother?”

“Shockingly, he is very right.” Alexei says from the back of the group.

Bucky sighed, shifting his weight onto the other foot. "If I tell you, people's lives will be in danger, not just mine." He says, tone heavy with meaning. "I'm sure as hell not letting that happen, not when I just started getting a handle on things- not when things just started to look up for me."

"What are you talking about?" Yelena demands, voice rising. "What else could you have got to lose, Barnes?"

"Everything." Bucky answers without missing a beat. “I'm asking you to believe me when I say that I'm not jeopardising this mission nor am I double-crossing any of you. I know it's asking a lot but I want you guys to trust me.”

“Can we?” Yelena wonders, making Bucky's gaze flit across the group.

“You can.” He says. “I promise.”

Cut to several weeks later, they are dancing through the jam-packed streets of Amsterdam lit up by head-ache-inducing neon signs and differently colored bulbs. Several black-ops agents remained hot on their tail as they slip into a dark alleyway, taking a detour inside a busy kitchen where they are overwhelmed by the cacophony of angry voices yelling in Dutch and English, the chopping of vegetables, the fervent stirring, the clanging of pots, the sizzling of a wok that quickly erupted flames. One of the line cooks suddenly appeared from the walk-in and handed Bucky a duffle bag; they exchanged a brief conversation in Dutch before the line cook patted Bucky on his metal arm and left, seemingly to go back to his station.

Bucky turns to the rest of them, beaten up and in bad shape. Everyone had suffered too many bruised and wounds to count, John was shot in the shoulder and needed bandaging, Alexei was nearly gutted by one of the agents that had a knife, Yelena was trying to get Bob to calm down after becoming The Sentry so as not to invite the other terrible twin to surface, Ava had a sprained ankle, and Bucky was pretty sure he broke a couple of his ribs.

“We can’t go back to the apartment, it isn't safe, chances are they've been tracing our steps since before we left Ibiza.” Bucky informed them all, slouched, out-of-breath, and wincing at him as they tried to listen. “We gotta leave Amsterdam before dawn or we’re as good as dead.”

“All the evidence we've been building for the past year, the maps, the photos, everything- we left everything back in the apartment for them to see. We might've just handed all our progress to LaForteza on a goddamn silver platter.” John yelled, leaning against the bread rack before one of the cooks pulled the bread rack to the side and shooed him away.

“Which is why they'll know where we're headed to next, they're gonna reroute all their operations, go underground, cover their tracks to the point that they've completely erased themselves from the face of the Earth. But that won't matter, not when we've got all the proof we need.” Says Bucky, pulling out a leatherbound journal from one of his pockets to show to the rest of the team.

Ava makes a sound, almost like a scoff but also a wheeze. “Where do you expect us to go after we've just unleashed hell on their operation? We're literally standing in the middle of a scorching kitchen bleeding all over the floor.” She gestures to the busy kitchen around them. “It's surprising they haven't kicked us out by now.”

“We'll figure it out on the way.” Says Bucky. “For now, we'll get dressed and get the hell outta here.” He drops the duffle bag on the floor and starts handing out articles of clothing to the rest of the team. Out of the corner of Yelena's eye she sees Bob pulling at his torn sweater and pivots on her heel to face him.

“He didn't mean right now, Bob.” She said, causing him to pause mid-action before he pulls the sweater down and shoots her a little smile.

“Woops.”

She turns another couple of degrees to spot Alexei half-way through unbuckling his suit, his helmet and belt already discarded on the floor. “Let go of that zipper!"

The same line cook from earlier showed up once more and escorted them to the locker rooms where they all hastily got dressed. Then when they finished, Bucky moves one of the lockers aside, revealing a crawl space that leads to an abandoned part of the Amsterdam Metro. Once they managed to hitch a ride on the back of a truck, steal a family wagon, and get to the quinjet it was smooth sailing. So to speak.

Bucky, who had taken upon himself to pilot the jet, hadn't spoken a word since they took off. Too laser focused on the dark skies ahead and the controls. Yelena only approaches him after they've stabilized in the air and Bucky had turned on autopilot to hopefully stretch his legs inside the cockpit.

“So, have you finally decided to tell us where we're going or do we have to stare into your dark, broody eyes to figure it out?” She wonders, making him let out yet another heavy sigh. By now everyone who had been resting had perked up at the sound of Yelena's voice and the sudden apparition of Bucky inside the cockpit.

“Livorno. I've got a place there near the port. It's secluded, but also busy enough in the day for us to slip in and out without getting unwanted attention.” Bucky finally answers. “We can squat there for the time being, lay low while we figure out a solid plan.”

“We've already lit one of their dens on fire. If they realize we've stolen LaForteza's journal too it won't be long until they come after us.”

“That is, if they do notice it's gone.” Says Bucky. “When you, Alexei, John, and Bob were taking out the guards Ava and I broke into the safe, swapped it out with a replica. If we manage to intercept their plans in Croatia, we'll manage to end this once and for all.”

Bucky places the journal on one of the crates, open to a page where he points at a cut out map- several red lines stretching out across Europe converging on what was marked to be Belgium. The team gathers around him. “They're shutting down all their operations in South-Eastern and North-Western Europe and they’re bringing what's left of their supply to a giant EDM festival in Split happening in five days.” He explains.

“So then we sneak in, guns ready, take them out once and for all. Easy Peasy.” Says Alexei with a grin.

“Except there'll be thousands of people, we can't risk endangering any more civilians.” Ava reasons, raising an eyebrow. “With the amount of weapons we have there's no way they'll let us in at the checkpoint.”

“Hence the sneaking.” Alexei clarifies, two of his fingers prancing atop the journal.

“There has to be some other way to get in undetected. If those people at the festival take whatever LaForteza’s goons have been distributing there's no guaranteeing what'll happen to them.”

“We've got an hour and fifty minutes in the air, try and rest up, yeah?” Bucky sighed as he attempted to get comfortable on one of the long bench-like chairs in the cockpit, cracking his neck.

Yelena scoffs. “I'll rest when I'm dead.”

Half an hour before their descent Bucky wakes everyone up. Yelena seemed to be well-rested, what with using Bob's arm as a pillow, and of course John who somehow woke up on the floor of the quinjet with Ava sleeping on the chair beside him. Alexei had been keeping Bucky awake for the duration of the trip, recounting his conquests in Russia as the Red Guardian which made Bucky question the accuracy of his stories.

They hid the quinjet in a secluded warehouse and began the trek to Bucky's place. Moving through the lively cobblestone streets of Livorno undetected. The air smelt strongly of salt and brine, ships both large and small were entering the harbor, and the faint hollers of sailors could be heard coming from the docks. Long lines of laundry could be seen hung across the windows of houses, pink bougainvilleas lined the streets. Bucky takes them through a set of narrow alleyways, passing by a group of teenagers heading down to the beach and a man singing an Italian love whilst playing an guitar.

They stop at one of the houses at the end of what seemed to be the umpteenth alleyway they've walked through. Bucky approaches the front door first, kicking what was a pebble out of his way, to knock. It had white bouganvilleas crawling all over the front of the house, rows of different colored flowers in different sized pots lined the entrance, all the shutters painted green were closed. It didn't take long for them to notice the brightly colored drawings in chalk on the path they were standing on, scrawled on butterflies, rainbows, and flowers- or the purple bike with shimmery tassels and training wheels pushed to the side near the door and beside a golden pothos.

They exchanged glances of confusion- but also, a look of understanding.

The door creaks open and they see a woman standing in between the gap, unsure if she was supposed to look happy or confused. She looked like she had just woken up but had gotten dressed to go somewhere. “James what are- oh my god what happened to your face?” You began, opening the door wider to step outside, taking Bucky's face into your hands.

That's when they all see it.

The wedding ring glinting in the morning sunlight, clear as day. They all slowly, almost comically, turn to look at eachother, baffled. John's mouth parted in shock, Ava's brows rose, Yelena's eyes widened.

“James??? ” Ava mumbled in shock.

Yelena opens her mouth, closes it, then shrugs- frowning at the girl.

“She's got a ring.” John mouthed to the group, with his hand concealing one side of his mouth. Yelena rolls her eyes so far back it hurts.

“Bucky's married???” Bob's whispers suit, clearly in disbelief.

“I told you.” Alexei enunciates joyfully, pointing at Bob's face, jaw on the floor. But who wasn't at this point?

They just found out Bucky has been married this whole time.

“Hey, don't worry about it, it's nothing.” Says Bucky, taking your hands into his. “It looks worse than it feels, trust me.”

You placed your other hand on your hips, eyeing him oh so incredulously before you narrowed your eyes at him. “Sure it is, tell that to someone who believes you, hmm?”

Bucky glances over his shoulder to look at his team, their intense yet homely demeanour only demanded more questions out of you. “We needed a place to squat for a day or two, think of a plan… we couldn't risk going back to the compound or Geneva.” He says to you as you look at them curiously. “I promise we weren't followed, we scrubbed our tracks clean.”

You exhaled deeply, lifting a hand to cup his cheek- your thumb grazing over the stubble that had formed over the course of several weeks without it being touched by a razor blade. “Could’ve called me, told me you were coming… I could’ve cleaned up a little.”

Bucky smiles. Smiles. The rest of them don't know whether to watch in horror or in awe. “Had to see you again somehow, one week is never enough.”

You snort in suppressed laughter before you glanced towards the rest of the team. “You guys must be tired as hell, I hope James hasn't run you into the ground by now. Come in!” She smiled warmly, her head motions towards the inside of the house. “Dropped by just in time, you guys like pancakes?”

“Yes please.” Bob chirped from the side, earning a glance from the others. They all file into a single line as they enter the home, you could tell that somebody lived here and not squats here on occasion- what with the mismatched pieces of furniture that complimented the interior of the house well. There was your standard coffee table except it looked like a smaller picnic table, a bookcase lined with endless books, odd trinkets, photographs, a TV, a vintage lamp, another vintage lamp near the 8-seater dining table, a gramophone sitting by the corner of the room in pristine condition.

Then they see a teepee in the shape of a princess castle, little animals dressed in vintage clothes beneath the TV having a tea party next to a well-furnished toy townhouse with multiple rooms, stuffed animals, barbie dolls on top of the coffee table, books with brightly colored illustrations scattered across the floor with endless crayons and pencils, and a backpack with pieces of paper sticking out from the opening.

At the top left of one of the papers, there was a scrawled on name written in pencil. Madeline Barnes.

“Don't mind the mess, we're usually much tidier if we knew we'd be having guests over.” She says, gesturing to the mess on the floor. “I'm Y/N, by the way. You guys don't have to introduce yourselves anymore, James tells me a lot about all of you.”

“We didn't even know you existed.” Ava uttered, astonished, mirroring the dumbfounded expression the rest of them had as they stared at Bucky with his arm around his wife's waist- looking at you with so much love in his eyes that the rest of them felt like this was a social experiment. Bucky? Married? Bucky? In love? It didn't sit right with them at all. They were four words they'd never imagined would fit altogether in a sentence.

“Yeah, well I had to keep that part of my life a secret for a reason. It's why I've been disappearing every now and then.” Bucky explains, and all of a sudden it starts making sense. One by one they all managed to grapple with the fact that Bucky lived with a wife here, and a daughter.

“Is she up yet?” He whispered. You shook your head from side to side.

“Nah, Maddie was still asleep when I went downstairs. She might be now though.” You tell Bucky like you anticipated what was to happen next. Then from the floor above them, they could hear the sound of feet rapidly padding across the floor and then out of nowhere a little girl in purple pajamas ran down the stairs. Bucky bent down to grab her and she leaped into his arms- overcome with giggles as she squirmed in Bucky's grip.

“d'you miss me, sweetheart?”

The little girl nods adamantly, deep blue eyes glistening with excitement. “Uh-huh! I missed you sooooo much, Daddy. Loads and loads. Last night I dreamt that the next day when I woke up you'd be there and then I whispered it to Mommy cuz I thought it was silly, but she was kinda asleep so I don't think she heard me and then I woke up today and I heard your voice!”

Bucky couldn't help but laugh. “What??? You're kidding, there's no way you could have guessed I was coming to visit today.”

“But I did, and now you're here! I have magic, I'm just like Twilight!” She affirmed, grinning at him as she toys with his hair. But then she pauses. “Daddy, are you having a playdate?”

“No, sweetheart, why?” Bucky wonders, furrowing his brows.

She glances at the rest of his teammates. “Cuz all your friends are here!”

“Yeah, no, we're not having a playdate honey. I brought them over here because we got tired… playing and they're hungry.” Bucky explains briefly, shooting them all a look as they all nodded and agreed as a collective.

“Sure are… we're really tired from all the running around… that we did.” Says John.

Ava laughs, nodding. “Pshh, super tired. All the other people we were playing with didn't stand a chance! They dropped dead in seconds!” Ava earned a jab on the side from Yelena.

The shorter woman laughed nervously. “What she meant was that we were so fast that we caught them all, and they lost and… went back home.”

Her eyes lit up. “What were you guys playing? Can I play too?!? Mommy i'm going to get my outside slippers-”

You intervened, shaking your head as you took Maddie from Bucky’s arms, bringing her away. “Nuh-uh no one’s playing outside until we have breakfast.” You tell her as her lower lip protrudes into a pout, that is until she realizes what was placed on top of the dining table.

“YAAAY! Pancakes!” She squealed, pumping her tiny fists into the air as you placed her on her designated seat at the dining table. “Wait… Mommy, did you read my mind or something? I was dreaming about pancakes last night, yknow.” She accuses you with a suspicious look on her face.

“No baby, I just knew.” You tell her, smiling. “Must be a coincidence, huh?”

Maddie giggled as you fixed her curly hair out of her face. “Yeah, coins-incident.”

“You had tiny soldier all along, eh?” Alexei whispered fondly, draping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Looks very much like you, beautiful girl. Reminds me of my ‘Lena when she was little. I hope you and the wife gave yourselves a pat on the back after uhh… hanky-panky. Nicely done, my friend.”

Yelena makes a grumbling noise somewhere on their right as you invite the rest of them to take a seat. “Let's eat now, yes?” She called out rather impatiently.

Bucky shoots him a look. “Thanks?”

Alexei pays no mind and simply keeps going. “Very rewarding, fatherhood. Being father? not easy, but very worth it. Fighting off grizzly bear in the forest in Winter with nothing but nail clipper and beer bottle? Much easier. When she learns how to shoot with a glock for the first time? You find you will cry a lot, tears and the snot.”

You appear on Bucky's left, carrying a pitcher of orange juice you've retrieved from the fridge. “You two can bond over being fathers after the three-year-old gremlin in purple and the rest of the assassins in this room get to eat a proper meal, okay?” You pat him on the chest before moving towards the table.

“Lucked out on wife too! Such wonderful hostess, you will build strong army of little soldiers soon, I am counting on it.” Alexei grinned. “I cannot wait to share wisdom words to you as a father who raised his little girls into becoming strong, cutthroat killers.”

“Appreciate it, man.” Bucky replies, trying not to sigh.

They all settled and ate the wonderful breakfast spread consisting not only of a hefty stack of pancakes but fresh berries, hash browns, bacon, and sunny side up eggs- of course with chocolate milk and orange juice to wash it all down.

“Sorry, we just ran out of coffee. I hope the chocolate milk will suffice for now.” You say, as you passed the plate of bacon to John who briefly muttered a ‘thank you’ to you.

“I haven't had chocolate milk in forever.” Says Yelena in assurance. “It's no issue.”

Maddie's jaw dropped in shock. “What??? But how???”

Yelena shrugged, leaning back against her chair almost cooly. “There was a really bad man that didn't let me drink chocolate milk for a long time.”

Maddie seemed outraged, like the foulest of offenses against humanity have been committed- and it might as well have. “You can come here and drink as much chocolate milk as you want, I wouldn't mind! My Mommy wouldn't mind either! Right Mommy?”

You nodded in agreement, chuckling. “Yup, Auntie Yelena can come over and drink as much chocolate milk as she wants.”

“Oh! Also Auntie Ava.” Maddie added with a toothy grin, making the woman sitting across from her smile gratefully. “And then we'll play princess mermaids in my room and I'll teach them how to curtsy and wave while riding the carriage like a real princess.”

“What about the boys, can they play too?” Ava wondered with a smirk, as she glanced over to look at Alexei, Bob, and John who sat at the other edge of the table. Yelena lets out a laugh.

“Only if they want to be pulling our carriage.” Maddie mutters before taking a sip of chocolate milk from her my little pony cup, making the rest of you erupt with laughter.

Yelena snorts. “Hear that Walker? She's making you be the horse.”

“What if I wanna be the footman?” John says. “Can't I be a footman? ”

“Hey man, if she lets you play it's best not to ask any questions.” Says Bucky before taking a sip of water. “Trust me.”

“If you want, you can be one of the princess's pet chickens! They ride inside the carriage!”

Right on cue, Bob chokes on his juice and cleverly plays it off as an accident.

“So uhh, Y/N.” John began, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of the conversation. “How'd you and Bucky meet?”

Your eyes move across the dining table, meeting Bucky's eyes as he looks at you knowingly. “Funny story actually uhh, I was sent on a mission to track down one of HYDRA's elitist assets after the fall of SHIELD. I followed him all the way to Romania, then Vienna, stalked him. Then the whole bombing at the United Nations happened just as they were about to sign the Sokovia Accords. Went back to my superiors empty handed because of his involvement with the Avengers.” You tell them. “Second time around, I tracked him all the way into Wakanda, nearly lost an arm because of it. He fought me off exceptionally well for a man with just one arm, and then when it came to it I just couldn't kill him.”

“Then they fell in love and got married.” Maddie finished before taking a bite of her pancakes. “Then came me, the end! ”

“So, who did you work for?” Yelena wonders, raising a quizzical brow.

Your tongue kissed your teeth before ushering Maddie to finish her glass of water and turn on the TV to watch her cartoons. To which she happily agreed. When she was preoccupied only then did you continue.

“I was one of the defected Widows they threw out after they realized we were no good at our job. They saw us as liabilities in the field. We never completed our training hence…” You tell her looking over at your daughter, giggling at the TV. You cleared your throat and continued. “Dreykov wanted us gone but I guess the world hasn't had enough of me yet so I crawled my way out, got back on my own two feet. Ended up on the streets of Madripoor, living off of people's wallets. I started working as a shadow operative for one of the most elusive crime bosses in Southeast Asia, but I wanted an out- a clean slate so I agreed to help Bucky and Sam out when they were taking down the Flag Smashers, covertly.” She finishes, eyes landing on John who stared at her like she'd grown another arm from her head.

“Dreykov orders firing squads, they dispose of the bodies in the incinerator.” Yelena told you, clearly puzzled. “How did you-”

“Just not mine.” You reply, a faint smirk ghosting on your lips. “I guess Dreykov isn't so good at cleaning his tracks afterall.”

After clearing all the plates and Ava offering to help with the dishes, you, Bucky, Alexei, and John went outside as they needed a change of bandages. You weren't about to scar your child. So you left her in the living room with the rest of the team, telling her to be on her best behavior.

“Jesus, they look so bright now.” Yelena says all of a sudden as she frowned at the television. Maddie sat in the middle of the living room with her dollhouse as she played with the fuzzy animals, writing a story as she went along.

“What?” Bob says from beside Maddie, holding a small husky in a sweater vest and slacks.

“The ponies.” She says, pointing her chin towards the television. “They used to be… easier on the eyes.”

“You used to watch My Little Pony?” Bob chuckles.

“Yeah, back in Ohio. My favorite was Twilight, I'd always force my sister to watch it with me but she never wanted to.” She smiled, remembering the times during her childhood where the days seemed brighter, warmer.

Maddie stopped playing to turn around to look at Yelena. “She's my favorite too!”

Yelena grinned. “Really?”

“She's my favoritest favorite out of all the Mane 6, my pajamas have Twilight all over them!” She points out, pointing at her sleeve where an outline of Twilight in a darker purple could be seen. She only now notices how Maddie's pajamas were full of Twilight's face alongside her cutie mark. “Do you have any other favorites, Auntie Lena?”

She then proceeds to think. “Hmm, Rainbow Dash is a close second.”

Her eyes glimmered with interest as she takes into account Yelena's answer. “Fluttershy is my favoritest favorite number 2.” She says, turning back to her toys. “Uncle Bob is a lot like Fluttershy, cuz they’re both very quiet but really nice.”

“You think so?” Bob wonders earnestly as he watches the little girl arrange a rabbit family inside the doll houses' living room to make it seem like they were watching TV just like the three of them were.

She looks up at him. “Uh-huh!” Maddie replied. “And so is, Auntie Lena, and Auntie Ava, and Alexei… and only the tiniest bit Uncle John cuz Daddy said that before when I was a baby he was pretending to be his best friend Uncle Steve and hit him and Uncle Sam a lot. But now he's not a sock sucker anymore? I don't know, that's what Daddy said. Then Mommy got mad.”

Yelena sits up from her once laxed position on the sofa. “You really think that?”

“Uh-huh.” She explains, fixing her hair out of her face. “I know it, cuz you guys are playing with me. So you guys are nice people.”

Yelena meets Bob's eyes amidst the momentary pause in conversation. The lives they’ve led were not anything to be proud of, not in the slightest. They were in this constant cycle of shame and regret that they’ve allowed it to nestle deep inside themselves and eat them from the inside out. Yet this child thinks they were nice people regardless. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know what they’ve done, it mattered that someone said it, that someone sees past their faults.

“Uncle Bob! the Dad needs to be in the garage, not the bathroom! He just got home from the office!” Maddie interrupted, bringing them back to the moment.

“Oh sorry, right.” says Bob, bringing the husky out of the house and have him enter through the back door. Bob clears his throat. “Honey! i’m h-“

“-Not like that!” Maddie whines, laughing. “Why is your voice so weird?”

“I had creative freedom and I took it,” Bob defended. “Okay, i’ll start over.”

“Can I join?” Yelena asks all of a sudden, intrigued.

“Okay! You can be the girl husky. She owns this hamburger stand and sells hamburgers and fries and also soda.” Maddie blurted out excitedly, pulling the little hamburger stand closer to the house as Yelena moved to sit on the floor beside Maddie. She lets out a sound of approval.

Maddie settles back into position. “Okay, Uncle Bob, we can start now!”

“Honey, i’m h-“

“Nooo, Uncle Bob his wife isn’t at home! She's working at the burger stand!” Maddie frowned, pointing at the burger stand where the other Husky stood behind the cashier. Perfectly orchestrated, Yelena wheezed out a laugh.

“But I thought his wife was the Rabbit…” Bob trailed off, looking up at Yelena for help who only snickered at his misfortune.

“Let’s just do it again.” Maddie sighed quietly, crawling towards her school bag before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Okay, I'll read from this, you two can just act it out.”

“She’s got a script, this whole time...”

“Yeah, this is definitely Bucky’s kid.”

Later in the day, after they’ve had lunch and Maddie woke up from her nap- they all decided to get some fresh air in the backyard. Maddie suggested they play freeze tag, Ava was currently it and had been chasing Bob around the expanse of the backyard like a bloodthirsty maniac, but then she spots Alexei crouching behind the garden shed. When he realizes what was happening he makes a break for it- he grabs a fistful of grass and throws it at Ava's face in hopes to distract her as he turns around the garden shed and runs away, laughing.

But then he doesn't expect Maddie to be on the other side and tags him, he was now frozen until somebody else manages to unfreeze him. John had been standing in the middle of it all as he had been frozen for a good 15 minutes now, but raised his arm to scratch his nose.

“WALKER, YOU'RE FROZEN FOR CHRIST SAKE.” Ava yells. “Act like it!”

“UNCLE JOHN IS CHEATING!” Maddie cries out, pointing at him like he's been accused of witchcraft.

John screws his face tight. “Can you people relax? It's just a game.”

“Surprise, surprise he's talking out of his ass again.” Yelena grumbled, making Maddie burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I heard that!” Bucky warns from his seat beside you as you chuckled.

“We've said worse things, in front of her accidentally. You don't have to worry.” You tell him, shooting him an earnest look. “Not when I threatened her that if she said another bad word an evil witch would come flying through her bedroom window and break all her toys.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “That's why she told me to check if the windows were shut tight the last time I visited."

You laughed through your nose. “Worked like a charm.”

Bucky and You continued to watch the rest of your teammates and your daughter run around the backyard of your home, carefree laughter filling the salty air. You glance back at Bucky watching the scene with a faint smile ghosting at his lips, you notice the threads of silver weaved through his hair, you notice how the lines beside his eyes are deeper, how he slumped against the backrest of the garden chair- so relaxed, at peace. Then he notices you looking at him and looks at you, his smile grows larger. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Nothing, just… thinking about how you gave me this.” You say alluding to everything your heart held dear. “This life, our daughter.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, that's where you're wrong. You gave me all this, all this and everything I could have ever possibly dreamed of.” He tells you, eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly as his eyes study every point of your face like he hasn't done it a million times before.

“I've never prayed much in my life before but sometimes I think God is merciful because He gave me you.”

You don't speak, you let him continue. Quite frankly, you're stunned.

Bucky wasn't done, not even a little bit. “I'm not proud of my past, what I've done, who I was. But you, Maddie, you two made me realise that maybe I'm not a monster, that maybe I was worth saving, that I deserved another chance. I'm the luckiest man on this entire planet because of it.” He says. “You saw me, the real me. Some days I forget that I lived most of my life ashamed of myself, you did that.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes all of a sudden. “Someone had to show you that the people who believe they aren't worth saving are the ones that need saving the most. I'm just glad you let me, with your stubbornness and all.”

Bucky laughs, looking away. He wipes a tear collecting from the side of his eyes and looks back at you. “I wouldn't be who I am today without you.”

“So would I.” You returned, looking at his dog tags and the wedding band strung through the chain as it rested atop his chest. “We saved each other. When I was a Widow I thought that that was all I was ever going to be, fight, do some sadist's dirty work, die in an alley in some foreign country with no one to mourn me.” You say as Bucky listened to you with utmost intent.

“I thought that if those were the cards I was dealt with, then fine. But then when I found a way out I realized my story didn't end with the Red Room, I fought, I spied, I went on missions and then the one asset I couldn't kill slips outta my fingers like sand.” You say, accentuating your statement with a little chuckle. Bucky himself laughs, almost like he was proud of himself.

“You showed me there was more to life than what I thought there was. I never knew I was gonna get married, be someone's mother.” You continued. “We could've never had this if we hadn't saved each other.”

“You're right.” Bucky says, sincere. “I thought I was gonna be born and buried in Brooklyn, but I could have never guessed this was how I was gonna end up.”

“What, a DILF?” You deadpan, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky's smile drops too fast; it makes you let out a raucous laugh. “Again with that word. You gotta know I still don't know what that means nor do I ever want to know.”

“Dad I'd like to fuck?” You say, grinning at him.

“I mean sure, there's plenty of time for that later on.” Bucky shrugs, shooting you a sly look. You roll your eyes. “Right time, right place, doll.”

“Huh,” you enunciate looking at the sky, lost in thought. “Where'd I last hear you say that? Oh yeah, two months before our wedding and then we ended up in the moving truck while we were moving the stupid bed-”

“-Was it?” Bucky asks you, frowning. “Seemed like it was yesterday, we were sleeping on the floor of the house taking turns rocking Maddie's cradle because she wouldn't settle.”

You poke his side. “That was seven months after we got married.”

Bucky shoots you a cheeky grin, flinching at the sudden action as he laughs. “Time flies by so fast.”

“It's been three years,” You sighed. “Jesus, she's growing up too fast.” You turned to look at Maddie on Alexei's shoulders as they were being chased by Ava, Yelena and John were seated on the swings engaging in a conversation that miraculously didn't have them wringing each other’s necks, and Bob was sitting on the grass watching the scene as you and Bucky were.

“I'm gonna enjoy every moment I can carry her around without her telling me she's embarrassed while I can.” Bucky tells you. “The day I hear those words I won't know what to do with myself.”

“Eventually the tea parties, the bedtime stories, and her choosing to sleep in our bed even if she's got her own are gonna end and I'm not ready for that.”

“I don't think we ever will.” Bucky concluded, turning to look at you once more. “The same way she won't be ready to hear about what we had to do in the past to survive.”

“she'll understand.” You say, tone full of hope. “we earned this.”

Bucky gazes into your eyes, letting out a thoughtful hum. “Did I tell you how much I love you? Because frankly I don't think I do it enough. I love you, I love you with everything I am and with everything I can offer. Thank you for knowing me inside and out and still finding someone worth loving.”

You laughed, bright with melancholy as you sniffed, tears overcoming you once again. “I love you more, not just because you're my husband, not just because you're Maddie's father, but because you showed me that loving someone wasn't a sign of weakness- that I didn't need to bleed myself dry to get somebody to see me and love me… all of me.”

“I'd do it again,” says Bucky tenderly, reaching out to dry your cheek. “As much as I need to.”

“So would I,” You added. “As long as you'd let me.”

“Forever, then.” Bucky decided.

“Forever.” You finished.

That night after a long and wonderful dinner full of laughter and stories that made some hold onto the edge of their seats and the rest gasp in thrill, it was time for bed. With the rest of the boys deciding over who got to sleep on the couch and who would sleep on the floor with a game of paper football, the girls got the privilege of sleeping in Maddie's room. And like the courteous host she was, she introduced them to all 25 of her stuffed animals currently occupying her room.

Eventually she gave up after the number 12 and was whisked away by Bucky into your bedroom for the night. Not after she decided to bid everyone by name a good night, that was when she closed her blue eyes shut and was fast asleep. That night you watched Bucky and Maddie sleep peacefully under the glow of her favorite night light. How she was enveloped by Bucky's arms like she always wanted- her small hand wrapped around Bucky's metal one, how she starts to look like an exact replica of him as the days go by and that was fine with you, for the most part.

Tonight there was no fighting, noise, or danger. No, there was just you, your daughter, your husband, and his rag-tag team of antiheroes turned heroes sleeping soundly around your house.

You let your eyes close all on their own, knowing that this wasn't a dream and that when you wake up in the morning they will still be there.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

dts: @dylsvqid @94namkooksworld @worldofsaturnsblog @wildflowersandvibranium @tmblrgirls777

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #dad!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #marvel x reader #captain america brave new world #thunderbolts

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rex-rambles · 8 days ago

Text

➤ PROUD | MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x wife! reader, kimi antonelli + max + reader (platonic)

summary: kimi gets his first podium, max finds you crying in a bathroom, and you both realize you want to start a family together

wc: 2.6 k

warnings: none! a few innuendos on max's part

➤ MASTERLIST

You had been married to Max long enough to recognize when his focus shifted. When he stopped paying attention to useless questions, when a car caught his eye, when he heard someone saying something wrong about anything, really. It was the subtlest of changes, the softest of looks, but you saw the way he turned, just slightly, when the TV in the motorhome played a clip of the rookies, talking about pressure and the reality of F1.

He watched from the corner of his eye, his notes still in hand, so that anyone who might walk by would think he was deeply focused, and not distracted by a simple broadcast. You, however, know better.

You push off the counter of the small coffee bar, coming to take the hat from his head, and rake your hand through his hair instead.

He smiles slightly at the action, letting his attention break to look up at you. "Do you think they miss their mums?" You ask, eyes finding the broadcast. Max would've been about their age when he started, so young, so full of dreams. You weren't that much older than them really, but it was still enough to be daunting.

Being 18, like Kimi, was the time of little independent steps, going away to university, starting something new. Becoming a world-famous F1 driver when you're not even old enough to drink in some countries had to be quite the trip. "What?" Max responds, now turning to give the TV his full attention. "The rookies?"

"They just look so young." Doing all this, on their own. They might have teams and managers and fellow drivers, but it had to be terrifying. "It's got to be hard, away from family like that. And on Father's Day, too."

"I didn't miss my parents," Max says, returning to the notes in his lap as he lies. He can never look at you when he does. You never pressed about his childhood, though all you can imagine is that poor boy, charting across Europe alone to do all of these races, with all the stress. It can't be good for children, even if they are racing prodigies. "I turned out fine."

There's a beat of silence where you don't answer, and he lets out a soft breath.

"Fine, relatively speaking." He corrects. "Besides, with all the karting and F2 or F3, they're used to travel."

"Even when they're still in school, poor things." Max glances back at the TV as the clip of Isack hugging Lewis's dad plays, and your heart dislodges in your chest. That's a lot of pressure, something that never goes away with F1, or at least you've never seen it leave Max. He was becoming a beacon for the rookies, maybe because of it. He probably knew better than anyone how to handle that sort of pressure, the lifestyle change.

Someone walks by, cutting through the moment, and you and Max just look at each other as you wait for them to leave. There was so much more to be said on this kind of topic, specifically behind closed doors, but there was more than just Max being a good mentor that played into it. Finally, the person leaves, and Max returns to his notes. "If you're worried about their education, you could help them with their homework."

"Maybe I can cook them a nice meal. You can have them over." Max laughs, then, getting up from his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him. The move startles you, so quick and so in public, but you lived for these stolen moments. Max was always like this when he knew no one could see. Little bursts of energy, the hidden romance that was best protected when others weren't around. You didn't mind by now, really. You'd rather your kisses be private than spread across Instagram. "What?"

"You are something else," He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Worry about me for a change, hm? Where's my home cooked meals?"

"They're a treat for when you win," You say as you press a quick kiss to his lips before finally pushing away. The last thing you needed was some photographer walking in on you two. "So go lose, yeah? Saves me from having to do the dishes."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he prepares to go, and you're struck by a feeling you can't quite describe. It's a strange sort of love that twists in your gut, almost complete but not quite. Loving Max was always just a full-bodied feeling, that some small part of it missing was obvious. It wasn't nerves, though the butterflies still came out as he raced, as he battled for second place.

It wasn't anger, or concern, or sadness, no strange emotion you couldn't place. Instead, it just felt like you were waiting for the last piece to click into place, even if you didn't realize what it was. Max gets second, and the win doesn't really fix it either, though you're happy he placed well. He probably wasn't the most enthused at George's first, but then, as the racers settle, you realize who came in third:

Kimi.

Little Kimi, with his homework and the pressure and now, you realize as you watch the nearby Mercedes garage, without his parents.

That must be awful, you find yourself thinking as your heart sinks further into your stomach. What a race to miss, to have no one there to celebrate. The big screens catch your eye as you see Max approach Kimi, and for a moment, the world pauses as Max pulls him into a quick hug that feels like it might last forever.

That's the missing piece, you think.

Max had always been so good with kids. Whether his little nieces or nephews, or teenagers like Kimi, he had a way with them. He was patient, and funny, and kind, and welcoming. He was saying something to Kimi as your visions swims before you, a mix of emotions that truly catch you by surprise.

It's pride, and heartbreak, and knowing.

That could be your son someday. Maybe he had just done well on a test, or won a competition, you didn't care, and Max was hugging him like a father would. You turn back toward the Red Bull garage's bathroom, quick to try to calm yourself, but it's no use.

Max would make a fantastic father one day, and for the very first time, you realize that's something you can pursue.

There was something going on with you lately. Max hadn't really had too much time to notice it, with the triple headers and your work schedule, but you were just...softer. Not in a bad way, and not in a way he'd ever vocalize, but you were just so utterly irresistible and sweet. He didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave your side, didn't even mind hearing you talk about ridiculous things like rookies being lonely and the best parks near his apartment.

But there was something brewing under the surface, and he didn't really know what.

Then again, he also just got 2nd place, and you're not at the barrier to greet him, so he doesn't really have time to focus on that either. He chalks it up to the crowds crushing in to get to George and Kimi, both for George's first win of the season and Kimi's first podium, both of whom refuse to stop smiling, especially once they get to the podium platform. Even from up above, however, Max can't seem to spot you. He can always find you in a crowd, a skill he prides himself on.

You were wearing one of his hats, and a cute little white dress, so it should be easy, but you're not with his team, not with the crowd.

Nowhere.

Finally, when he gets back to his driver's room, and it's empty, does he start to worry. "Have you seen-" He barely gets the word out before one of his attendants is gesturing towards the restroom with a strange expression, and Max panics at the thought of you being sick, of something being wrong, and he quickly knocks on the door. "Love? You okay?"

"Shit, Max-" Your voice sounds hoarse and Max's heart breaks at the thought of you being sick while he was out celebrating, but when you open the door just a crack, he realizes it's something else entirely. "Sorry, sorry, I'm a mess."

You let him into the restroom, a small space considering it's just a little side room, but that sort of invasion of each other's space had never bothered either of you. What does bother him is the tear-tracks on your cheeks, the way you laugh sadly as you try to wipe away the evidence. "What's wrong?"

You crying is not the most uncommon sight in the world, but the last time you cried at one of his races was because he won his fourth championship title. Maybe you were crying over how poorly he was doing? Maybe something terrible happened? "The video-"

"What video?" Max rushes out, coming to cup your face in his hands. "I swear, if anyone said anything-"

"You hugged," You say with another soft laugh, now truly confusing him. Max tries to wrack his brain for the last time he hugged a woman that might be taken as him cheating, and then what it might take for you to have a mental break. "And his dad wasn't there."

"What?" Then, the pieces click into place. "Kimi?" You nod, sniffing softly as you wipe at your nose with a tissue. "You're crying...because I hugged Kimi?"

"Our little baby got his first podium."

Our.

Little.

Baby.

Oh shit. "Are you pregnant?"

"What?" That seems to snap you from your tears, looking up at him before reaching out to smack his arm. "No! I can be emotional without being hormonal!"

"I wasn't saying that," He soothes, though he finds himself somewhat saddened by the answer in a way he never thought he would be. "You just called him our baby."

"He's your baby," You joke, covering your face with your hands. "He won and you hugged him, and his parents are here, and he's probably so happy I just...I can't. How could you not cry? He worked so hard!"

Max slowly wraps his arms around you and gently rocks you, unable to stop the growing smile on his face. Only you could get emotional about another man getting on the podium. You'd probably be like this for all the rookies, he thinks. He'll need to start packing more tissues. "But you didn't come to watch." I missed you, he wants to say, but right now is not about him.

"I didn't want anyone to see me like this and take it wrong." You say, muffled by his shoulder. "If I saw him in person I'd probably start bawling."

"Well, you should go congratulate him if it moved you to tears." He says, somewhat teasing, somewhat not. It was a very big thing for Kimi to finally get on the podium, and you were right. He worked hard to get here, taking third place in a way many other drivers couldn't currently.

Maybe crying over it was a bit much, but being proud? That was understandable. "Give me your sunglasses."

"Anything for you," He says, reluctantly pulling the sunglasses he'd hung on his shirt collar and handing them out to you. You walk, then, hand in hand through the garages before reaching Mercedes, which Max realizes is somewhat enemy territory, but for you, he doesn't mind. Kimi is off to the side to take pictures with some of the mechanics, all beaming ear to ear, and he hears you sniff beside him. "Hey, Kimi."

Kimi looks up with a grin, and you offer a small wave. "I just wanted to come congratulate you," You say, and Kimi immediately goes in for a hug, which somehow makes Max more emotional as he watches it.

That's the missing piece, he thinks, what he wasn't getting about the tears.

You were always so good with kids. Whether Max's own nieces or nephews, or teenagers like Kimi, you were always so good with them. Even now, Kimi sinks into your arms like you're his mother, like it was the kind of hug he needed. You already were so patient with Max, you had to be with children, so warm and honest and welcoming. Kimi could be your kid someday, maybe after having a hard day, or maybe after a good one, just needing comfort.

You would be an incredible mom someday, and as Max had said earlier, he'd do anything for you. A little baby, clad in Red Bull gear, with his hair colour and your eyes, it would be perfect.

Anything you make would be perfect. "I'm so proud." You say as you pull back. "Your parents must be so proud! Third! You're first podium!"

"You're going to make me cry," Kimi sniffs, and Max watches your bottom lip tremble. "No, no, don't cry too!"

"Alright, alright." Max wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. "Both of you."

"Emotions are meant to be felt!" You say stubbornly, a reminder Max has had to hear plenty of times. You had never made him feel guilty when he got angry, never made him feel like he couldn't be sad. It was the sort of thing a parent should have said to him as a kid, the sort of thing that would make you a fantastic parent now.

"You know what they call you?" Kimi says, more to Max than you. "Mother Hen. Now you are Mother and Father Hen."

You tense in Max's arm, and he softly laughs. "We're adopting him." You state bluntly, looking up to Max. "Can we adopt all of them?"

"Bit late to adopt, I think." He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "We'll just have to make our own."

"Hey!" Kimi says, hands flying to his ears like an actual kid as he laughs.

"You can be our babysitter," Max continues, reaching out to shake hands with the boy, who happily shakes it back. You, on the other hand, are shooting Max a rather strange look. "What? It'll be good for him to have a normal job for once."

"We can all take turns," Kimi agrees eagerly. "Ollie and I-"

You finally laugh, shaking your head as you take a step back, and Max doesn't blame you. Those boys probably got into more strange situations than Max did at that age, which is saying something. "There is no way both you and Ollie are looking after them. That is a recipe for disaster waiting to happen."

"What's a disaster waiting to happen?" George asks, and now it's Max's turn to tense. He was very good at being civil, good at hiding it too, but that didn't cut the tension in the air.

"Ollie and Kimi babysitting for us." You answer for him, head coming to lean back against Max's shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. It's the sort of admissions that would make headlines if it got out, but considering what Max was planning on tonight?

Probably wasn't too early to announce the baby.

"Babysitting?" George echoes, shocked. "Are you expecting?"

"Not currently," Max says before he can help it. "Give it about nine months."

"Max!" Your face flushes red, smacking at his arm, and he takes it as his cue to leave. "You are unbelievable!"

"Congratulations, Kimi." Max says as he leads you away, trying hard not to laugh as both Kimi and George exchange looks. "George."

You wave goodbye, turning around to look at them, and Max keeps his arm around your waist to drag you backwards. "You both did so well! You better celebrate tonight."

"I think you are celebrating enough for the both of us." Kimi answers, and George turns on him like a scandalized mother.

You laugh as you turn back around, and Max finds that he missed the sound. You crying was easily one of the things he hated most in this world, meaning your laugh is one of the things he loved the most.

Your hand slips into his, offering a squeeze. Only when you're finally out of earshot, the rest of the crews and the microphones and the eavesdroppers hidden away, do you tug harder on Max's hand, drawing his attention. "Do you mean that? About starting a family?"

"Like I said, anything for you." Then, after a beat, "We're not naming our kid Kimi."

"I know," You answer, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "I was thinking George."

a/n: KIMI PODIUM! didn't realize i was a kimi fan until i genuinely got emotional at seeing him come third.

#➤ rex works #➤ mv1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #reader insert #dad max verstappen #f1 fanfic

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notapradagurl7 · 2 months ago

Text

Miss Me?

Black Fem! Reader x Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

Summary: After those years of hearing of his disappearance, your husband Elijah “Smoke” Moore had finally returned home, and you weren't up for a warm welcome. But he wanted to speak with you, and remind you that you're still his. Only his.

A/N: Here is something for our main man Smoke, 😩 enjoy!

Warnings: dirty talk, praise, possessive!Smoke, slight back talk, stubborn reader, fingering, cursing, unprotected sex, use of the n-word, established marriage, creampie, consensual intimacy, multiple orgasms, squirting.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @secret89sblog @ranikyani

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @wanderingreader1 @kindofaintrovert

—————-

The rich aroma of marinara sauce mingled with a variety of seasonings and spices, enveloping the medium-sized kitchen, the walls painted in sage green and pictures of you, and Smoke.

Your deep brown eyes were fixed on the bubbling pots simmering on the stovetop, the vibrant colors of the food enticing your senses. With a gentle turn of the knob, you watched as the blue flames flickered and gradually faded to embers, silencing the hissing gas.

You moved with quickness, pulling out an array of containers, each one filled with fragrant foods. Scooping out generous portions, you layered your plate with creamy mashed potatoes, perfectly cooked spaghetti, and sautéed cabbage with sausage that glistened with a hint of olive oil.

A low rumble from your stomach reminded you to eat, prompting a sigh of relief as you finally took your first bite. The flavors danced joyfully across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum of delight as each taste unfolded, cleaning your plate, after sipping your glass of water to quench your thirst.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the air, cutting through the meal you finished and breaking your concentration. You wiped the remnants of food from your lips.

You let out a resigned sigh, reluctantly leaving your plate behind as you hurried to the front door. Peering through the window, your heart raced as the amber-orange glow of the porch light illuminated a familiar silhouette, casting a soft shadow that stirred curiosity and cautious within you.

Smoke or as you called him, Elijah. That was who stood at your door, a shadowy presence in the twilight. Also known as your husband.

He was the twin brother of Elias “Stack” Moore, a pair known for their ruthless dealings in Chicago and New Orleans, everywhere.

Together, they undertook the grim tasks laid out for them by the notorious Al Capone, their hands stained with the dirt, and blood of their illicit trade.

In a moment that felt both tender and fleeting, he had expressed a desire to marry you before he vanished into the chaos of the city.

His promises dripped with hope as he claimed he would return to you, that the day would come when you would once again find him wrapped in your arms.

But as the shadows deepened and trouble began to swirl around them like a whirlwind, each passing day drew you further away from that heartfelt vow, leaving you to wonder if he would ever return.

Your family warned you that marrying him was a grave mistake; they insisted that being with Smoke only invited trouble.

Yet, despite their concerns, your love for him and his love for you ran deep—deeper than you could articulate. Now that he was finally back home after those long years, everything felt different.

With a sigh of disappointment, you shook your head. “What the hell does this nigga want?”

You knew you'd regret this, at least a little. You were still his wife, and he was still your husband.

Turning the brass knob, you swung the door open. Your gaze fell upon the man in his gray suit, blue tie, and the hat he had removed. His brown eyes met yours, brimming with raw emotion—love, longing, and a hint of fear.

“So, you’re back?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, skepticism lacing your voice.

His expression softened momentarily before he composed himself, gripping his hat tightly. “Yeah, I’m home, back wit’chu. Just like I promised, baby,” he said, his tone laced with seriousness and tenderness, each word resonating with sincerity.

Elijah stepped into the house, and you quickly closed and locked the door behind him. The way he said “baby” sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a wave of desire within you. How could you feel this way at such a moment?

The scent of the meals you cooked filled his nostrils, his stomach rumbled as his tongue glided through his lip. “What’chu cookin’ tonight? My favorite?” he teased, smirking at you.

You should have been angry with him; he was at home, but he might have been driving for work, putting in long hours until his hands hurt and his body was exhausted. Smoke couldn't wait to return to you.

“You can always make yourself a plate, sweetie. Don't starve yourself.” You replied frimly, you walked through the hallways as he followed behind you.

You settled into the chair at the neatly set table, the crisp brown cloth contrasting with the rich, dark wood beneath. He began to fill the meal, carefully lifting the lid from a steaming porcelain dish and dishing out vibrant, aromatic food that filled the air with its savory aroma.

The utensils clinked softly against the plates as he prepared his serving, a sense of expectation hanging between you. You knew he loved your cooking, there was no need to speak about that.

Taking his seat across from you, he dug into the meal with a satisfied hum, savoring each bite and clearly relishing the flavors.

You watched him intently as he slipped off his shoes, the soft thud breaking the gentle ambiance, and unfastened his coat, draping it casually over the coat rack. “I love your cookin’ you know that?” he mentioned, his eyes on you.

Your lips curled up in a warm smile, your heart fluttered in your chest. “I know that, you tell me that shit every time I cook,”

He then moved to the counter sink, filling a glass with cool water, the sound of liquid pouring into the glass punctuating, and took a long, refreshing gulp.

His gaze wandered over you, lingering on the nightgown you wore—the delicate black fabric that clung to your figure in all the right places, a garment he adored.

The playful glint in his eyes suggested that the food was not the only captivating thing in the room, making it thick with undeniable attraction. He stood up from the table, made his way to the sink, washed his hands and his plate. Drying them off with a towel.

“Why did you come back? After all these years, couldn’t you have stayed with your brother?” You replied back, your brows knitted in anger.

“You gon’ kick me out? This is still my home. I bought this place for us, so we’d always have a home to return to, Y/N,” Smoke retorted, placing his empty plate in the sink.

You stood up from the table, walking toward your husband where the sink was, cutting the distance between the two of you. His gaze locked upon you, the closeness he missed so much was here, the intimacy beckoning for both of your calls.

He was right about that, ever since the two of you were teenagers, he vowed to do this, keep you happy and safe from the threats of his life, be with you.

He stepped closer to you, his clothes lingered with the scent of gun smoke, and his fresh cinnamon, eucalyptus cologne evaded your senses. Why don't you just speak up? Tell him.

“I…I never thought that you'd be back for good, all this time I prayed that you weren't dead, and you can't make up for those years taken from us, Elijah!” You yelled harshly, your voice broke with emotion.

His hands cradled your face, bringing you closer while your face softened at him, his thumbs swiped over your cheeks to wipe those tears away, and your hands laid on his clothed chest.

“You pushin’ me away cuz’ you think I'm gon’ leave you again? Nah, I'm a man of my word baby.” Smoke replied firmly, his voice filled with sincerity, grabbing your hand in his.

He placed your hand on his middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat like a drum, he smiled at you before kissing your forehead and then lifting your chin, kissing your lips passionately before pulling away to look at you again.

“You feel that? My heart beats for you, keeps me alive, and strong. I ain't going nowhere, you hear me?” Smoke replied, wrapping his arms around you.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “You a poet now, my love? I hear you but who did you get that from? Langston Hughes?”

“I'm tellin’ you what’s on my heart, darlin’ or do I need to show you?”

“Why don't you do that?”

Following that, the two of you retreated to the bedroom, clothes strewn across the floor, with soft moans mingling with slurred words as your face was buried in the pillow.

Smoke held your hips tight from behind, driving into you with a rapid yet forceful rhythm. Making sure that you felt every inch of his dick, all you could do was scream his name and you took it like a pro.

“You miss me, baby?” He groaned, his hand delivering a rough smack on your ass, watching your wetness coat his dick completely. The sheets shocked underneath, remnants of the passion he left behind.

“I-i..missed you..fuck!” You moaned loudly, eyelids closed shut nails while your hands balled up the blankets. Tears blurring your vision, you came undone quickly which made him darkly chuckle before kissing you.

He smirked at your face contorting in pleasure, your body shaking against his as sweat covered your bodies, he peppered kisses along your spine, “Good, cuz’ I missed you more, and I told you I'm stayin’ right?” Smoke grunted after every thrust after pulling out.

He wrapping his arm around you and flipped you on your back, sliding his dick back inside you. You shudder at the warm feeling, it felt so right. With him. “Y-yes, I..I need you, Elijah. Only you,” you gasped, your words a desperate plea that only fueled his intensity.

His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned closer, his lips peppered kisses on yours. Wet noises of your pussy swallowing his dick, the bed creaked. “Sounds like your pussy ain't forget about me,” he said to you, his voice deepened. He released low groans, “Eiljahhhh..shit!” you lamented, clawing at his shoulder blades. he missed you so much that words couldn't even explain.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby. You’re mine, and you know just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his thrusts became sporadic and deliberate. Flipping you onto missionary.

Smoke’s hands roamed your body, his nails dug deep every curve as if he were tracing the stretch marks on your dark brown skin. “My beautiful wife, where would I be?” he said, His fingers tangled in your braids, pulling you closer as he thrust deeper, hitting that sweet spot.

“Elijah! Please—more,” you cried, your back arching as waves of pleasure coursed through you. You could feel his heartbeat matching the rhythm of your own, tiny cries from you spurred him on.

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts becoming more relentless, pushing you to the edge. “You think you can handle it? You’re not too sore for me, are you?” he taunted, his voice thick with lust.

“No, I can take it! I want it all, Elijah!” you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on your climax.

“Damn right you can,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he drove into you. Your knees buckling in response.

With each crazy thrust, he punctuated his claim, and you felt your body responding, tightening around him, begging for release. “Elijah…I’m gonna cum,” you breathed, your voice breaking. Your legs rested onto his shoulders.

“Can I give you some twins, baby?” he coaxed, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes…baby,” You cried out his name, your body shaking as you came undone once more, Smoke followed closely behind, his warm cum spilling deep within you, giving you the twins he asked for.

Breathing heavily, he pulled out and collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. His hands stroked your face, “You good?” he asked, and you felt the warmth radiating from him, “Yeah…I’m good…” a comfort you had longed for during his absence.

“I missed you so damn much,” he confessed, his voice softening as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re here now, baby. And that's what matters most.”

—————-

#black!reader #black fanfiction #sinners fic #smoke sinners #elijah smokes x black!oc #smoke x reader #sinners 2025 #notapradagurl7 #michealbjordan #michaelbaejordan #michael b jordan smut #black writer

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lon3lystarr · 2 months ago

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honey…don’t feed it, it will come back.

•paring: remmick x fem!reader

•summary: the pale moon light shined brightly, illuminating the shadows hidden deep within the tall corn fields, the hot air of mississippi was uncontrollable and uncomfortable but nothing felt more uneasy than the three firm knocks that cut through the still night.

•warning(s): vampirism, blood, manipulation,physical affection, setting is around the 1930s, cursing, the use of y/n, y/n is in her early 20’s, y/n lives alone, hints to dead mom, y/n is a little stupid but this is fiction so it’s whatever, a lot of flirty name calling from remmick, remmick might be a little soft in this <3, just a little smutty;))

•a/n: yeah i needed to write about remmick, he’s just so hot and my new hyper fixation. writing this while listening to “it will come back” by hozier :)). i wrote another remmick fanfic: https://www.tumblr.com/lon3lystarr/782176805690982400/run-lassie-run-pairing-remmick-x-femreader :))

likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! <3

the sunday morning sun was unbearable. there wasn’t any wind, there wasn’t any shade, there wasn’t any clouds in the vibrant blue sky to provide any shelter from the scolding hot rays the sun kissed upon mississippi. this wasn’t new to y/n, the slow hot suffocating heat embracing her sweat covered form while she did her daily routine, sweeping and mopping the house from the inside then out to the front porch, washing her soiled clothes and hanging them to dry on the thin laundry line, tending to the tall corn fields her mama left her making sure the field was healthy and ripe enough to sell for the folks in town, then preparing dinner all alone in her old creaky home. y/n’s days were selfsame, doing the chores she has done since her early years of living then winding down for the night, humming the old lullabies her mama used to sing to her throughout the quiet nights.

until something in the air shifted

something felt different today

y/n felt uneasy when she woke, the thick morning air was the same as yesterday and the day before that but something deep within y/n’s bones told her today wasn’t the same as all the time, maybe it was the lack of the birds singing and chirping, maybe it was the disgustingly hot air she breathed in or maybe it was the exhaustion that ate away at her every passing day, either way y/n knew if she didn’t attend her chores then no one will. she pushed off her thick wool bed as the wooden bed frame groaned under her weight and walked to the bucket of clean water to wash away the sleep from her sluggish face then she started her day.

sweeping and mopping, washing her clothes that were soiled from the amount of sweat and dirt clinging onto them, pinning those clothes on the laundry line behind the chipped painted house, tending to the towering corn fields as her hands cramped up from the heavy labor, then by sunset she headed back to the empty lifeless home to finally fill her empty stomach. the sun still shined casting purple-pink hues in the sky as y/n made a fire big enough to cook all the food at once, cornbread, sweet potatoes, and field peas was the meal she decided to cook for the night. the sound of crickets rang out and filled the quietness which helped drown out y/n’s intrusive thoughts, the thoughts that she wouldn’t dare say out loud, the growing despair she felt in her heart was becoming intolerable, she never thought this was the life she would be living, the same tired routine over and over again, the silence in this empty lonely house, her years withering away, happiness and enthusiasm drained from her once lively soul, the lack of passion in her life caused all these feelings to bubble to the surface, it was miserable.

by sundown y/n finished her meal and got ready for bed, she peeled off her dirt covered clothes and replaced them with her lightweight flowy white nightgown that was a hand-me-down it only reached just over her knees, she brushed and wrapped her frizzy hair then headed to her room she left earlier today, her aching limbs cracked and popped when she stretched them out then throwing her limp body onto the mattress and waited for the tiredness to hug around her, finally getting the rest she so desperately needed.

but rest didn’t come, y/n stared at the ceiling with her eyebrows pulled together in discomfort, the same feeling from before came back, the unsettling and uncomfortable tension heavy in the night air, the crickets stopped singing, the moonlight dimmed and the air still sticky and hot. y/n tossed and turned in her bed and shut her eyes tightly, hoping sleep will catch her like prey to predator but that was unsuccessful so she sat up and stared out of her window to watch the night sky, the night sky was the only thing giving her peace, giving her tranquility, giving her harmony-

knock. knock. knock

three firm knocks cut through the air, the moment of calmness and silence immediately vanished, now the same uncertainty and uncomfortable feeling returned. who would be knocking on her door at this time of night? y/n stayed seated on her bed, unmoving, maybe the person outside of her door would assume she was asleep and leave but that wasn’t a good plan. three more firm knocks rang out followed by a masculine voice “hello? is anyone home? please help me i’ve been hurt” the desperation muffled behind the door “please i won’t be much of a bother! i just need a little of ya assistance” the voice said as y/n got closer to the door, wary and uncertain “how are you hurt?” y/n asked, her palm pressed against the door, adding a little more security and support to the old door “i was walking from the pub and i wasn’t lookin’ at my surroundings, i ended up cuttin’ my arm on a nasty ole poll..” the voice explained, sounding a little closer, a little more quieter “well sir i won’t be much help, i wasn’t gifted with the ability to heal anyone back to health” y/n replied, the feeling of uneasy growing bigger in her chest “well darlin’ i promise ya a place to rest my head would be more than enough” the tenderness in the male’s voice outside pulled at the heartstrings of y/n softly, feeling needed was something y/n didn’t know she was able to feel in a long time it was a little selfish to feel this way or even stupid but fuck, did it feel nice. y/n slowly turned the cold metal doorknob making the old door squeak open revealing the male in front of it, standing on y/n’s porch was a handsome, muscular man with brown short sweaty hair, his dark eyes connected to her’s immediately“well aren’t ya a beauty, didn’t expect that face” said the taller male in front of her, making a new emotionto erupt, it felt like heat in her stomach and her heart skipped a little from his words “i’m remmick, what’s your name dolly?” asked remmick, a smirk painted on his chapped pink lips as his accent seemed more thicker now that there wasn’t a barrier between them “i’m y/n” she replied in a hushed manner “hmmm y/n, just rolls off the tongue. leaves a little sweet taste” remmick said, husky and sly leaning against the door frame, he lifted up his left arm and the nasty cut showed, the skin around it was red and raw while the blood dried up and crusted over “that sure does look painful, washing that wound would be best” y/n said, still focused on the long cut on his pale white skin “why don’t ya let me in and we can get this taken care of” remmick smiled a reassuring smile, y/n stood there thinking of the situation she’s now in, this attractive stranger needed help and a place to stay in the middle of the night…this wasn’t good…the choice she was about to make wasn’t the smartest at all but maybe doing a good deed for someone in need could break the curse of feeling unwanted, unneeded, useless every waking hour “alright, come in” y/n said, moving a little to the right to allow remmick to past by and enter into the candle lit house, the aroma that slapped y/n as the male walk by was intoxicating, the smell of sweetness like a ripe juicy berry mixed with the tangy smell of his sweat that covered his firm frame

“what a beautiful house, are you livin’ all alone here?” he asked, his eyes glued to her face, scanning her features that shined with the yellow-orange candle light “yes, my mama passed away a couple of years ago. leaving me to take care of the house and the corn fields” y/n stated, her voice still low and airy “my condolences dolly. you’ve done a fine job maintaining everything. must be stressful on a sweet little thing like you huh?” remmick said, his voice sweet and kind “time to time, being on my lonesome is quite the hassle but i manage” y/n replied truthfully walking to the same bucket she used to wash away her tiredness this morning, sitting across him in a shorter chair “sweet thing like you shouldn’t manage. you should be taken care of, loved upon, cherished and protected from the evil in this world.” remmick stated, stern and serious as he sat on the old dusty wooden rocking chair “well some of us aren’t as lucky” y/n said, softly tending to the wound on his arm. while she carefully rinsed off the dried up blood she noticed something..strange…the cut wasn’t as big as before, actually it seemed like there wasn’t a cut there at all, the only evidence was the blood that was now tinted the water red “i can free you. i can free your poor soul from the long lonely days you live, finally feelin’ freedom that’s the thing you wanted to feel since ya mama passed on, isn’t it?” remmick whispered, softly pulling her in like a siren to a fisherman “don’t ya want want to break free from all that baggage?” remmick egged on, his powdery white hand gently caressing y/n’s cheek, soothing her from any doubt or fear “how? i can’t be free…i ain’t never gonna be…i’ve been trapped in a loop for years” y/n shook her head, defeat heavy on her heart “no no honey, don’t say that, don’t give up on me now. i promise i can make ya feel better, i can make all those nasty feelings disappear in a blink of an eye” remmick said, his hot palms on each sides of her face, brushing his thumb against her soft lashes.

remmick and y/n gazed at one another, time was still and the tension was heavy. both didn’t speak another word nor didn’t move a muscle, too scared to ruin this moment. seconds ticked by with them still so close to one another, breathing in each other’s aroma, feeling the body heat of each other “this may be ill mannered but i wanna steal a kiss for you sweetheart” remmick said, his eyes still gazing into y/n’s, a smirk on his appetizing lips “why just one? steal as many as ya want” y/n said, a groan deep in her throat “hmmm careful dolly, you might not handle what you let in” remmick moaned out, softly caressing y/n’s hot cheek and his lips kissing against the soft skin of her neck, sensually kissing and licking the exposed skin, tasting and savoring the flavorful flesh gradually kissing up to her impatient lips, their lips danced against each other in sync, it was slow and sensual “honey i gotta taste more, wanna give me more baby?” asked remmick, gripping y/n’s hips firmly and strongly, y/n nodded obediently “yeah i know you wanna give me more” remmick teased, his deep voice made y/n’s heart jump with excitement, this was such a new and addictive feeling.

remmick kissed her neck and the spot he once abused down to her exposed chest then to her soft stomach “god, baby i can’t wait to taste ya, need to clench my thirst” remmick groaned out, squeezing and squishing y/n’s thighs like he was needing bread, greedy and hungry “remmick please” y/n begged impatiently “please? fuck, i love a pretty lady with manners” remmick’s husky voice became muffled from kissing y/n’s soft plush thighs, his knees thumping against the wooden floor,the brown haired male slowly kissing closer to the area that ached the most for his attention.

his soft lips finally latching onto her achy pearl, y/n gasped at the feelings, her hand immediately flying to his short soft hair, guiding his head to where she wanted him most, moaning and crying out as remmick licking and slurping up all the tangy slick that seeped and gushed out “mmmhmm just like that sweetheart, keep cryin’ out for me” remmick groaned, wrapping his masculine hands on y/n’s hips “remmick please! oh god please, right there” y/n cried out, bumping her hips against his eager hot wet lips “i want ya to be with me, if i make you cum, you’re mine dolly” remmick moaned out, gently grazing his teeth against y/n’s soft pearl, y/n jumped a little with a sharp gasp “yes! yes! i’m yours! please remmick!” y/n begged and pleaded, mind mushy and in the clouds with pleasure “that’s what i like to hear, give me what i deserve baby” remmick grinned up at the ruined woman above him then diving back down to his savory meal. his skillful tongue drawing circles around her sensitive and pulsating button while his middle finger gently rubbed her entrance slowly inserting his meaty finger inside, the slippery essence dripped onto his finger and his lips. loud ecstasy, lustful moans bounced off the walls of the old candle lit house, the lewd sounds coming from the slick wet flower remmick was pumping in and out of “hmmm yeah give it to me baby, make me proud, give me what i deserve” remmick’s husky words rang in y/n’s ears, the heat building up in her lower stomach, getting closer and closer to release “re-remmick! oh fuck! mmm please! right there” y/n yelled out with pleasure, dizzy head spinning with thick sin, y/n legs shook aggressively and her frame slumped against the slippery white painted chair, moaning uncontrollable as remmick ruined her. he drank all the nectar that flowed out overstimulating y/n’s abused pearl, y/n whined out and weakly pushed the male from her, still shaking from her release “sorry baby, i had to get every drop outta you” remmick snickered out while caressing her soft flesh, the ripe heated flesh giving off a sweet scent that remmick couldn’t help but take in a deep breath of “fuck you smell sweet…just wanna take a bite” remmick moaned out, gripping y/n’s chin, forcing her to look at him, to look at his glowing red eyes, those red haunting eyes looking deep into her soul “i made you cum honey, you’re mine now” remmick smirked, his sharp knife-like teeth showing, his head dropping to her sweat covered neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her flowing blood “we’d be beautiful together my love. this might pinch a little but it’s so worth it” remmick assured her with such a surgery sweet tone, giving her hope, giving her comfort and warmth, something her heart cried out for years.

everything happened so quickly, one moment the sensation of sharp needle like pain shot through the left side of her neck, hot burning sticky blood oozing out of the open wound then darkness encased her vision. the silence in the house was deafening but it didn’t last long until the loud, panicked gasp was heard from y/n, she felt muscular arms wrapped around her, protecting her, remmick didn’t leave her even when her heart stopped “and she’s awake. welcome back my love. you look as gorgeous as ever” remmick smiled brightly, placing a gentle kiss on the apple of y/n’s cheek, bloody lips leaving a red stain on her cheek “i think it’s my turn for a taste, don’t ya think?” y/n teased, her eyes now red and glowing in the dark room “looks like i created a minx” remmick teased back, biting the plush soft skin of y/n’s bottom lips, moaning in sync with one another quietly “you’re mine sweetheart.” remmick stated, no room for discussion “and you’re mine” y/n replied, her hands running through his soft hair “damn right dolly.” remmick proudly said, pulling her into his warm chest. embracing each other without any worry in the world, the way how it should be. finally at peace, finally feeling worthy and loved, all of remmick.

#my post #sinners 2025 #sinners #jack o'connell #remmick #remmick x reader #i need him #i want to marry this man

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nemesyaaa · 3 months ago

Text

feel it coming // older!rafe x daughter's bff! reader

summary : you're maybe not a good friend but at least you're a good girl.

warnings : +18 content. strong age gap. smut. older man/younger girl dynamic. smoking. smut. p in v. oral (f. receiving). friend/dad betrayal. reader isn't guilty. sweet burns by cigarettes. lil fantasy. daughter's best friend trope. sir/young girl nicknames. be aware of the warning before reading.

author's note : none.

You were everything bad, the bad daughter, the bad friend, the bad girl, always needy or whimpering for everything. you were so envious of your best friend because her dad was so kind to her. that's the treatment you've been craving for and always wanted but never received. so you started to want this attention, always beingat the house of your best friend even if she was not there. knowing that rafe was divorced was also such a boost for you because you could act like his wife while no one was there. you were sweet and innocent like a flower, but also very young. the same age as his daughter. you could be her, but you were far better.

So you were at home so often, doing chores, acting sweet and caring. You took care of his laundry, you cooked his meals, you put his beers on the fridge to get them cold, you ironed and took care of his shirts, also, cleaning the house as if it were your own.

Since his ex-wife left, his daughter was somewhere with her boyfriend, you kept Rafe company. It wasn't a pity concern, but he was almost forty and he needed someone to take care of him, but more importantly, to be there for him. You were there for him, you might have done too much, but he never complained.

You were also there for his friends when he invited them over to watch the games at home, bringing new packs of beer and making sure they had enough to eat. You didn't hesitate to cook again, and when you were tired, Rafe would let you rest on his lap, ignoring his best friend's stare.

At first, Rafe wasn't really into corruption. You were fragile, sweet, and kind, so easy to manipulate and break. You were a dangerous temptation, his daughter's best friend. He hated the way your eyes were always tearful and innocent, begging not to be ignored. How was he supposed to care for you when you looked at him like that as such a nervous and little thing, so eager to satisfy and please him?

And you were so young. Literally born in the same year as his daughter. He could bet you were a virgin. How could he not corrupt you when he was already eager to teach you everything ? Was it an old man thing? The urge to teach you everything, how to kiss someone, how to pleasure yourself, how to make you feel good, how better you will be with him rather than the other guys ?

You caught him lost in thought on the front steps of the house, the perfect time to go see him. You held a beer in your hands that you had already capped and you came to sit on his lap with your favorite innocent expression.

He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke blowing over his face. You thought he was gorgeous, and it was unfair, this handsomeness as he was getting older. He was also so big; you could feel it just by sitting on his muscular legs. But also his shirts, which compressed around his muscles. And his hands, you loved playing with them, old man's hands. That was your weakness. They were strong and huge. The veins were large, but they were thicker when Rafe was groping at you.

His gaze fell on you, before he placed the burning end of his cigarette against your bare thigh. You cried out, hurt by the sudden pain of the burns.

"It hurts... really hurts!" You sniffed, as he gently mocked your pout.

"I know it hurts, baby. But It also hurts to see you wearing such vulgar clothes, because you're such an attention whore."

"So you're punishing me?"

He placed his cigarette against the inside of your thigh, watching the light quickly burning your skin. He showed you how short your skirt was by running the nicotine stick along your inner leg.

" It's not like you hate that. " he said while pressing the cigarette against the wet spot of your panties, exposing your sweet lie.

“ You like the pain. " He continued by dragging the stick against your clothed drenching folds, before slowly pushing down the burning side.

Your cooed noisily, your head turning over to the side of your shoulder. Your legs were trembling from the sensation. That was hurting but you wanted more.

" P-please..." You pleaded out, tears running down your cheeks while muffling your pain. “ S-s-stop...we can't do this outside. ”

“ Always bragging your slutty behavior and now acting ashamed about some invisible neighbors ? "

" What about your reputation ? "

" I can fuck who the fuck i want. " He said firmly, switching his place with yours to put himself between your legs.

“ But I'm very young..."

" Right ? " He carefully answered before his fingers slipped into your pussy. " Make sure they know how much then while I'm taking care of your pretty little cunt. “

Your cheeks heated. You know he was better than you at those kinds of things, his fingers were skilled enough to make you feel so good that soft moans were escaping your mouth. He was fingering you softly at the beginning, little and gentle strokes preparing your sweet core for his thicker cock. You loved everything about his hands, but damn, his fingers were insane, they knew how to please you. You can feel the huge ones brushing against the wetness of your hole, ramming back and forth until your slick hang agape everytime he was fucking you. You squirmed when the pad of his thumb played with your throbbing clit, drawing small circles, his skin rubbing gently the swollen bud, while your core was clenched hard around his fast digits.

When you were comfortable enough, his fingers took a quicker pace, speeding his movements so fast that your own hand reached without your consent against his to attempt a slower rhythm.

“ Do that again, and i will make sure all the town know what we're currently doing. ”

You removed your hand so fast and his smile widened over his lips. He was moving so rapidly inside you, the bump of his knuckle hitting you hard, squishy sounds of your pussy getting fucked brushing your ears. you should be ashamed for enjoying the feeling of your best friend’s dad stuffing your sopping core with his fingers, but also for being wet enough to hear your own arousal wetting his skin. that was such a suffocating and weird feeling. but you were fingered too dumb to bother, and it's not like you wanted him to stop. “ Stop thinking. You don't need anything to worry about. ” He said with a hoarse voice, as his thrusts got powerful.

“ You're such a bad friend, little girl. ” He murmured while pushing roughly his fingers in your insides.

“ Think you're a better person for fucking your daughter's friend ? ” You teased back, bucking your hips widely against his soaked hand. “ I never said i was a good friend, but i can be really good , sir. ”

He moved his thumb against your lips to trace the line of your mouth, and also for shushing you. Another little cry came from your eyes because of the sweet attention he gave you, so you kissed the pad of his thumb, before sucking it slowly, your tongue rolling sweetly against his skin. He watched you sucking his finger, getting him wet with saliva and spit, but also disappearing in the inside of your mouth, the gasp sound of your throat following every of your back and forth.

You were such a dangerous temptation, the one that made him lose his mind. You could break his whole world he wanted. But he was still fingering you, pumping his fingers in and out until your folded slick left soaked on his skin.

"Keep that for me," he said, placing his cigarette between your parted lips. "Careful, sweetheart. The ashes burn, but you already know that."

It was cruel to point out your pain, still slightly warm and unhealed. But before you could reply, his mouth traced the outline of your burns, tongue slid against the hot skin while placing small kisses on them, easing the suffocating pain of the heat.

"How does it feel?"

"B-better..." you cried out.

"But you're still crying. Aren't you tired of being a fucking crybaby?"

"You're the one that makes me cry!" you answered and twitched at the hold of his hand on your thigh.

"I'm the only one, yea. Keep this in that dumb mind." he corrected you before pushing his tongue between your walls.

You really had a hard time holding the cigarette between your lips while Rafe's was eating you. His breath was heavy and hot against your dripping cunt, as he was giving you fat licks, swiping all his tongue over your pussy and clit. he's pushing it deep down your core, making sure you feel him inside your walls, while gripping tightly at your hips to make you stay still. all his mouth was over you, sweet rubs from his nose against your clit while his tongue was lolling the inside of your pussy. his hand was resting in your inner thigh, as his face was literally buried against your cunt.

The swirls of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you shiver, and breath senseless. while he was eating you out, his face glistened with your own wetness, his chin coating at your arousal. the taste of your pussy was so sweet that his mouth was sticking to it. he was crazy with his licks and was making you arche widely on the chair. you felt so good, insanely good that it was impossible for you to not move your trembling legs.

The moment he was inside you, you lost it. His dick was huge. you weren't prepared for the fatness of his cock but you couldn't think about it longer because he was driving his whole length inside your cunt, running all his inches step by step on your walls. Since the day his wife left, Rafe haven't sex with someone. you were the first one after such a long time and how bad for you, because he needed to release all the frustration inside your hole. And your pussy was perfect for that, so tight and immaculate. He was the first one inside it and he made sure to leave his print. He was going back and forth, slamming his built hips against your skin. All his thrusts were insanely hard and merciless, running on your fucked core to the point of lefting you dazy.

He knows how to fuck you, because he literally dreamed about this moment since you entered the house. He wanted to fuck your little hole for so long, fisting his own throbbing dick on the bathroom while you were with his daughter on the living room, watching some stupid movies or in her room speaking about useless boys.

And as the sweetheart you always been, you always wanted to help him. With dishes, laundry, dinner, groceries and every domestic task.

But what if he needed you for more ?

And now, he had you. all for him. Squirming and moaning against his hefty body, trying to escape from his evil strokes but you couldn't. He wasn't okay with leaving you, and especially, when he has his full aching cock buried inside your soiled walls.

He was looking at you with no shame while pounding inside you. His phone buzzed on the little table. but he ignored it. All his attention was for you. And you smiled through the pleasurable pain, through the hot tears and falling ashes on your skin.

But the second after, your phone buzzed too. but you decided to ignore it too. it wasn't like you could do a single move, and you didn't want to. You knew damn well who it was, and Rafe too. But the two of you were fucking nasty on here too care.

You literally came on his dick, soaking all his driving length. It didn't take long for him to join you, and release his seeds over your pussy.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't make you pregnant. He had his own limits.

You kissed him on the mouth, making sure to have a taste of his lips before leaving. you always loved the feeling of his warm tongue against yours, and especially this time. after a long make out, his rough muscle was highly soak and limp, following the movements of yours.

“ I really want to be with you. " You confessed. "Your age gap is not that strong..."

“ Not that strong ? I’m the dad of your best friend, angel. I shouldn't be playing around with such a young thing like you . ”

“ She's not that special for making you a dad. I could do this too...if only next time, you accept to breed me…” You said playfully, biting so hard the bottom of your lip while looking at him.

" Don't be a brat. " he warned.

" Then don't force me to be. ”

“ I can't believe i fucked you few minutes ago. ”

“ Too old to trust that dick anymore huh ? ”

“ Yes, I'm old enough, sweetheart but not for your fucking mom, so if you don't want your best friend as your beloved sister, care to shut that bratty mouth of yours before I'm making sure you finally have someone to call dad in your life. Now, go take a shower.”

Sometimes, he could be so mean. And you hated it.

“I’m better than all the women you can have.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I already have such a good relationship with your daughter.”

He almost choked with his breath as he heard your answers, didn't know if you were serious with that fucking attitude.

"I swear, you're really fucked up in the mind, young girl."

“And it’s just the beginning, sir.”

“I thought you were kind of sweet and innocent but you finally showed me your true colors.”

“I just love you so much.” you admitted. “I don't want to let you go with someone else.”

“Why don’t you go around boys your age?”

“Will you let me fuck with stupid boys my age?”

"You're free to do as you want." he lied. “I’m not your man.”

“But I don’t want to be free.” you confessed. “I want to be yours, chained to you. ”

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ari-ana-bel-la · 4 months ago

Note

charles getting his four year daughter leo and leo is cutest puppy but someone even looks at her and the puppy is growling at everyone, leo lays on her protectively and won’t let her sleep alone, charles always finds them together

Leo, the bodyguard

Charles loved his daughter more than anything in this world.

Nothing brought him more joy than hearing her sweet laughter echo through their home or feeling her tiny arms wrap around his neck in an excited hug. At four years old, Yn was his entire universe, and Charles would do absolutely anything to make her happy.

So, when she had a bad dream, he immediately rushed to her side, brushing her tears away and whispering sweet reassurances until she fell asleep again. When she was hungry, he never hesitated to cook her favorite meals, even if it meant burning pancakes a few times before getting them just right. And when she had a wish? Well, Charles did everything in his power to make it come true.

And for the past three weeks, Yn had wished for one thing and one thing only.

"Papa, I want a puppy," she had said, her big, bright eyes shimmering with hope.

Charles had smiled at her request the first time she mentioned it, thinking it was just a passing thought. But when she brought it up again the next day, and the day after that, and every day after for three weeks, he realized this wasn't just a fleeting wish—this was a dream.

And if there was one thing Charles couldn’t resist, it was his daughter’s dreams.

Which is how he found himself standing in their living room one sunny afternoon, holding a small, wriggling bundle of golden fur in his arms. The tiny dachshund puppy tilted its head curiously, its long ears flopping as it let out a soft yawn.

"Yn!" Charles called, trying to keep his excitement in check. "Come here, ma chérie. I have a surprise for you."

It only took a second before the rapid sound of tiny feet echoed through the hallway. Yn came dashing into the room, her pink dress fluttering as her curls bounced with every step.

"A surprise?" she asked eagerly, her face lighting up.

Charles knelt down, revealing the little dog in his arms. "Meet Leo," he said softly, watching her expression carefully.

For a moment, Yn just stood there, her mouth slightly open in shock. And then, with a squeal of pure joy, she threw her arms around both the puppy and her papa. "A puppy! You got me a puppy!" she cried, her voice filled with wonder.

Charles laughed, the sound warm and full of love. "I promised I'd always listen to your wishes, didn't I?"

Yn pulled back, cradling the tiny dog against her chest like the most precious treasure. "He's so cute, Papa," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I love him."

Leo, as if sensing her affection, licked her cheek softly before snuggling closer to her. Charles couldn't help but smile at the sight—his daughter holding her new best friend, her face glowing with delight.

From that day on, Leo became Yn's constant companion. Whether she was playing with her toys, drawing pictures at the kitchen table, or snuggled up on the couch watching cartoons, Leo was always right beside her. And Charles, despite having expected chaos from adding a puppy to the mix, found himself utterly charmed by the tiny dog.

It didn't take long for Charles to realize one very important thing: Leo was fiercely protective of Yn.

It first became obvious when a few of Charles' friends came over one afternoon. The house buzzed with laughter and conversation as the drivers settled into the living room, chatting about the upcoming season.

"Where's your little shadow?" Max asked, leaning back against the couch with an easy grin. "I haven't seen her all day."

Charles chuckled. "She's in the playroom with Leo. Probably making him wear another tutu."

Just as he spoke, Yn emerged, her small form half-hidden behind the doorway. True to Charles' words, Leo followed close behind, his tiny body nestled in her arms and wearing a sparkly pink bow around his neck.

"Papa, look!" Yn giggled, holding Leo up proudly. "He's a princess now."

Daniel let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands together. "I think Leo's the most patient dog in the world."

But as soon as the drivers shifted closer to get a better look, Leo stiffened. His little ears perked up, and with a low, rumbling growl, he flattened himself protectively against Yn's lap.

The sound wasn’t exactly menacing—coming from such a tiny dog, it was more amusing than anything else—but it caught everyone off guard.

"Is he… growling at us?" Carlos asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I think he is," Pierre grinned, leaning forward slightly, only to be met with another determined growl.

Yn just giggled, stroking Leo's head gently. "He doesn't like when people come too close," she explained matter-of-factly, as if her little dog protecting her from a group of grown men was the most normal thing in the world.

Charles shook his head fondly, though he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. "Leo takes his job very seriously," he said, pride and affection mingling in his voice.

"Well, I wouldn’t want to mess with him," Max joked, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "He clearly runs this house."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of warmth and laughter, with Leo remaining firmly planted on Yn's lap, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who came too close. Even when Daniel tried to tempt him away with a treat, the tiny dog refused to budge.

Later that night, after the guests had left and the house was quiet once more, Charles tiptoed down the hallway to check on Yn before heading to bed. The door to her room was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open gently, peeking inside.

There, nestled beneath a mountain of soft blankets, was his little girl, her face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. And right beside her, curled protectively against her chest, was Leo.

The tiny dog blinked sleepily at Charles as if acknowledging his presence before burrowing deeper into Yn's embrace. Charles felt his heart swell with warmth, the sight filling him with an indescribable sense of peace.

Quietly, he stepped back, closing the door with a soft click.

He knew, without a doubt, that no matter what, Leo would always be there to protect his daughter. And in that knowledge, Charles found a deep, abiding comfort.

Because if there was anyone in the world who deserved to have every wish come true, it was his sweet, precious Yn.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading my work. Mt requests are always open for you!

-💙🦋

#f1 drivers as fathers #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x daughter!reader #charles leclerc #leclerc!reader #dad!charles leclerc #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo x reader #💙🦋

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beloveds-embrace · 7 months ago

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Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. “Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

dukedom au masterlist

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eeksburner · 3 months ago

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Lover

Simon Riley x Wife!Reader

I cannot stop thinking about Ghost and being a cute domestic wife for him

Tw: Intense gender roles, kinda stalker Simon, smut if you squint

(Note: I am not a tradwife nor do I condone forcing gender roles and societal pressures onto anyone, I just wanna be a cutesy wife for Simon Riley)

Simon prefers you call him Simon over Ghost. He thinks that since he's literally married to you, there's no reason for you to call him by his call sign. Calling him Simon is much more intimate for him and he likes separating you from everything he endures as Ghost. He just wants to be your Simon.

He knows he's gone for long periods of time. Time you spend not talking to him or doing couple things. He makes up for it, though, by doing anything you want when he's at home. If you're tired of planning, he's got you. Simon has a whole list of random things to suggest when you just want to be taken care of without worry.

He LOVES spoiling you. In his line of work, he gets down and dirty. He loves knowing you don't have to do anything of the sort (unless you want to). He pays for your nails to keep them pretty, unlike his dirty, battered ones. He will get you monthly subscriptions to whatever you want, beauty boxes, gaming passes, entertainment, etc. All luxuries he can't experience while at work. Simon knowing you're the opposite of him, clean, spoiled, safe, is enough to keep him working forever. Giving you everything he can't have. His love isn't all monetary, but a lot of it is when he's away.

Simon loves watching you. He gets major anxiety about you when he's away. To help with this, he installed security cameras in and around the house. When he gets the luxury of a WiFi signal, he'll check in on you. If you happen to see a little green light flash on while eating, relaxing, cooking, or any other mundane task, you'll offer him a smile and a wave. Sometimes you'll blow him a kiss (or give him a private show).

We all know Simon is physically fit, but that doesn't mean he has any type of expectation for you. He loves whatever you have to offer him, as long as you're in good mental and physical health (remember, being physically healthy comes in different shapes and sizes!) Simon is completely enamored with you. He believes he was blessed to be the only man on earth to be married to a real goddess. He would build a statue of you by hand (if he wasn't so bad at any type of art). If you want to go to the gym, he'll buy you the best membership he can. If you don't, he'll buy you something else that occupies your time.

Simon loves feeding into your hobbies, whatever they may be. Coming home and seeing something new you created or hearing about something you've learned makes his day 10x brighter.

You love cooking for him. It took a lot to break down his walls and food is one of them. He appreciates the time and effort it takes to plan and execute a meal as well as the skill needed to cook as well as you do. The best brands and foods for his wife only! Nothing makes him feel more full of you and your love than when he's eating something you've made for him, other than when he praises you and you get a little twinkle in your eyes and a smile on your face.

You also happen to love keeping the house nice for him. You clean fairly often, though it's not hard to keep up after one person (and any pets you may have). You like knowing he's trusted you with one of his largest assets, his home. It gives you a sense of power knowing you're the only person who controls what kind of house he comes home to. Messy, clean, minimal, tacky, bright, dark, etc. Simon appreciates anything and everything you do for the house. Knowing you've gotten everything taken care of and decorated in a way you both like is like heaven to him and lifts a huge weight off his shoulders. He loves smelling a clean house after smelling nothing but dirt, blood, gun powder, and stinky men for days. (He couldn't care less if the house was a cardboard box, as long as you were there and you still loved him.)

If you want to work, go to school, learn a trade, or be a stay at home, he supports you. You don't even have to explain yourself to him, Simon trusts you so much that even if you were to say "I don't know" he would hear trumpets because an angel just spoke to him.

Nsfw: Despite what people may think, Simon typically isn't a dom. He spend a majority of his time directing people and being an authoritative figure at work. That isn't even mentioning how tolling it can be knowing you took a life and the physical exhaustion his work takes. He likes being taken care of, however you see fit. Sometimes he'll be a dom, but only if he's been away from work and needs to let off some steam.

The sweetest ever. Cuddles, words of affirmation, snacks, whatever you need. He feels as though his sole purpose since he met you is to make you feel like nothing less than a deity. Sometimes he'll get insecure over his ability to take care of you or not being around, but one kiss from you, perfect you, and the perfect life you maintain for you both and it fades away.

Overall, Simon Riley is the hottest, most doting husband to exist, ever.

#call of duty #ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 7 months ago

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Eddie seemed to have zero impulse control when he's not actively thinking about it. After Vecna Eddie moved in with Steve because he and Wayne didn't have a new place yet, plus, Wayne was living out of a motel. It was not a place for someone with wounds like his. Also, he was still waiting to be cleared of all charges. Steve was well enough to take care of Eddie. The metalhead was still in a lot of pain and on as many painkillers as he was allowed the first time that it happened. Steve was leaning over to fluff his pillows, and his lips were close to Eddie's face. It was all Steve’s fault, really. Eddie was thinking about how pretty his lips were when he decided to grab Steve by the back of the neck.

"What are - MMHH!"

Eddie brought his lips to his, and it was the sweetest kiss that Steve had ever experienced. It had left his lips feeling all tingly. Steve could easily pass it off on the fact that Eddie was high, and that was exactly what he did do. He never brought it up or told anyone about it. . .not even Robin. He really couldn't ignore it, though, when it happened a second time.

Eddie was feeling a lot better and could move around the house a lot more. Steve had finally been able to cook dinner for the both of them after living off other people's cooking and takeout while they both healed. They had finished eating when Eddie lumbered over to him and spun him around, cupping his face.

"That was the best home-cooked meal I've ever eaten - MUAH!" Eddie exclaimed, kissing him square on the mouth. "You go settle down. I'll handle the clean-up, big boy."

Steve had frozen a little. Surely, Eddie knew what he was doing? Since he hadn't brought it up, Steve decided not to bring it up either. . .except when it happened a third time. Eddie was completely healed, and he was able to be let out of the house since he was he officially cleared of all charges. He wanted to meet up with Corroded Coffin at Gareth's since they refused to come over to Steve's house despite the fact that Steve had told them they were welcome anytime. Even though he understood where they were coming from, it still stung that they refused to even try to get to know him. Anyways, Eddie was on his way out the door except for the fact that his keys were lying on the counter.

"Hey, did you forget something?" Steve asked.

"Oh, right," Eddie said, twirled around and kissed him while scooping up the keys. Then he was gone.

Okay, he really couldn't ignore it this time. Steve really needed to talk to someone about the kisses and about how much he liked them. He needed to know what that meant, and he knew exactly what kind of conversation this would turn out to be.

"Eddie keeps kissing me," Steve said as soon as Robin got in the car.

"I'm sorry, what?" Robin said, blinking.

"You know how Eddie's really affectionate," Steve replied. "Does it bother you when he kisses you?"

"Oh, you mean like kissing on the forehead and the cheek? No, I think it's sweet, actually," Robin said and rolled her eyes. "Are you feeling a little insecure in your masculinity because a man is getting a little affectionate with you?"

"What?! No, I don't mind getting affection from a man, Robin. You know I hug Argyle all the time," Steve said. "I'm just wondering why Eddie kisses me on the mouth and he doesn't do that with anyone else."

"Stop the car!" Robin screamed, and Steve pulled over the side, parking the car.

"Jesus, Robin!" Steve exclaimed.

"Eddie's been kissing you on the MOUTH?!" Robin asked.

"Yeah. He doesn't do that with you?" Steve asked.

"No, I think that's a treat only for you," Robin said.

"But why? We're both straight," Steve said. "I mean, I'm not trying to complain or anything, it's nice but why is he doing it?"

"You like it when he kisses you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Steve shrugged. "If I were into men, I'd be asking him on a date, but I'm not gay, Robin. . .well, maybe just for Eddie. Is it possible to be gay just for one person?"

"I mean, maybe, but I doubt that it's the case here," Robin said. "Usually, I would probably let you figure this out for yourself, but considering how long you kept it hidden that you like Nancy Drew, it might just take a while. . .do I have permission to rip off the band-aid?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Steve asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, how the hell were you so sure about Vickie and completely clueless about yourself?" Robin asked.

"Are you still on it that I totally called it about Vickie being a lesbian before you did?" Steve asked.

"She's not a lesbian, dingus," Robun said.

"Okay, I was pretty sure that you two were dating. Robin, she's clearly into you, so I'm pretty sure you have a shot," Steve said.

"Yeah, we are dating but she's not a lesbian," she said.

"I'm so confused," Steve said.

"In more ways than one," Robin said.

"Robin, we're going to be late for work," Steve said.

"Vickie is a bisexual," Robin said. "She likes more than one gender."

"Oh. . .oh, like David Bowie!" Steve exclaimed. "Right?!"

"Right," Robin said.

"Oh my god!" Steve said. "My Tom Cruise obsession suddenly makes sense - I didn't want to be him - "

"Not to mention, all those times you've stared openly at Eddie along with his posters of Eddie Van Halen and Kirt Hammel. . . "

"Kirk Hammett, Robin," Steve scoffed. "Eddie would rip you a new one for getting that one wrong."

"But you knew it because Eddie did," Robin said.

"I like him," Steve said with wide eyes.

"Yeah, buddy. Are you going to need a minute?" Robin said.

"Nah, I'm fine. I actually feel really good about it," Steve grinned.

"Not even a little freak out?" She asked.

"Nope!"

"Lucky bitch," Robin muttered.

"I'm sorry, the next time I have a realization about myself, I'll make sure to give you the freak out that you deserve," Steve said.

"That's all I'm asking," Robin said.

They spent the morning shift talking about Eddie and what he'd say to him once he got home. Steve debated on giving him flowers or not, or a stuff animal. He decided on a stuffed animal because that was more permanent, as Robin had pointed out. They were just about to take their break for lunch when Eddie strolled in.

"Hey," Steve said brightly. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asked and leaned against the counter. "That's good to know."

Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. This time, Steve responded to it, cupping Eddie's face as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Eddie smile against his lips. Steve heard Robin scrambling to lock the front door and close the newly installed blinds. Eddie wrapped his arms around him, nearly climbing over the counter to do it. Finally, Robin coughed loudly and they broke apart.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hi," Eddie said. "I got something for you."

He climbed over the counter and sat down in front of him. He pulled out a rock and handed it to Steve.

"It looks like a guitar pick," Steve said with a grin.

"I thought you could use it for good luck," Eddie said.

"That's very sweet, thank you," Steve said, blushing. "I'm going to keep it forever."

"So, your boyfriend did good?" Eddie asked.

"Boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I know we're taking things slow, but I was hoping that you'd consider me being your boyfriend," Eddie said.

"Yeah, uh, it's just - it might be the concussions, but I don't remember asking you out or you asking me out," Steve said.

"Oh, you definitely asked me out," Eddie said.

"Oh, God, Robin. The doctor said if I started having memory problems - " Steve said with wide eyes. "I'd definitely remember asking you out."

"Honey! I'm sure it's fine!" Eddie exclaimed. "Robin was there, she'll tell you!"

"I was NOT!" Robin yelled, her eyes going wide. "Or was I? Oh, god, what if I hit my head and I don't remember?! I'd remember my best friend asking out a man!"

"Okay, don't panic, Robin, we'll call Hopper - " Steve started to say.

"You really don't remember?!" Eddie shrieked.

"No!" Robin and Steve yelled.

"Seriously, Robin, you were there, and you turned into a giant duck which, by the way, is rude because you know about my fear of ducks!" Eddie yelled.

"Oh, Eddie, goddamnit, was this a dream?" Steve asked.

"You know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it might have been a dream," Eddie said.

"Okay, those looks you've been giving me make a lot more sense," Robin said. "Have you been living in fear of me randomly turning into a duck, like I'm some sort of. . .wereduck?"

"I don't know, your name's Robin, and we've all been through crazy shit. . .anything is possible," Eddie said.

"Aww, and you've hugged me even though you're scared of ducks," Robin cooed.

"Well, it's my fear, my responsibility. It's not your fault," Eddie said and then looked at her. "But you're not, though, right?"

"No, Eddie," she said softly and then affectionately, "You dingus."

"This whole time. . .," Eddie trailed off. "We haven't actually been dating. You never asked me out."

Eddie started to scramble off of the counter when Steve grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Let's fix that. . .Eddie Munson, do you want to be my boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Fuck yeah, I do," Eddie grinned.

He grabbed the back of Steve’s head and crashed their lips together. Eddie sighed and leaned his forehead against Steve’s.

"No one better fucking wake me up," Eddie breathed and Steve laughed.

"Oh God! I think my nose is turning into a bill - quack, quack!"

"Robin!"

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mothofmyth · 8 months ago

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Wayne Munson living on the breadline. Wayne Munson who can't afford rent on his home AND a kid, so he moves to the trailer park and gives Eddie the bedroom. Wayne Munson picking up every shift he can to put food in his kid's belly and a roof over his kid's head. Wayne Munson who's back hurts from sleeping on the couch and doing manual labour for 12 hours a day. Wayne Munson who wouldn't change a thing, even when Eddie doesn't graduate, and then doesn't graduate again. Wayne Munson who became a very rich man after Eddie died. Wayne Munson who still sleeps on the couch in a run down trailer, while the bed lies cold and empty.

Wayne Munson who swore he would give the rest of his life to his kid the day he became his. Wayne Munson who didn't go back on that promise even after his kid died. Wayne Munson who has a bed ready and waiting when his kid comes back from the dead. Wayne Munson who readily accepts any and all changes his kid came back with. Wayne Munson who cries and holds his kid tighter than anything when he returns. Wayne Munson who quits his job on the spot to cook a warm meal for his kid and his new boyfriend when he hesitantly introduces them to each other.

Wayne Munson who lives a long and happy life, and finally passes away surrounded by family. Wayne Munson who gets the happily ever after and the ending he deserves.

#stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #hurt/comfort #character death #temporary character death #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things spoilers #background steddie #steddie #fanfiction

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oshikiri-toru · 10 months ago

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What if Soap and Ghost decided to get married for military benefits?

They're a little drunk when they think of it, giggling about one of them wearing a wedding dress or carrying the other down the aisle, but the next day they actually think about it. It would let them be more flexible about housing, moving into an apartment or even a home together with nicer beds and appliances. They'd get some extra money for groceries and some more freedom. It sounded great, and with Price and Laswell capable of figuring out the fraternization logistics, it was a real possibility.

So, then ensues a 'fake' marriage, where two homies get legally married just for benefits. Everyone congratulates them on finding love, but they're just relaxing in their apartment, sleeping in two separate rooms, and living their own lives. Ghost keeps to himself while Soap goes out to meet new people.

But as time goes on, they start spending more and more time together, cooking meals together or falling asleep on the couch with a movie playing in the background. Soap eventually moves into Ghost's room, claiming he was cold (he was not, he was actually melting but Ghost didn't need to know). Their fake marriage starts to look a lot like a real marriage, real domestic: weekly dates, intertwined schedules, and arguments over bills and taxes.

Nearly two/three years in and it hits them that they actually like each other. They couldn't imagine divorcing once they're out of the military, couldn't imagine anyone else taking their place. When they hit the five year mark, they decide to have a real wedding, renewing their (previously copied from Google) vows in front of family and friends.

And I'm sure the benefits for a civilian spouse would help Johnny a lot when he's medically discharged from the military. Instead of following Ghost around as his teammate, he gets to follow Ghost around as his husband, always waiting for him to come home during those last few years in service.

#and then they lived happily ever after because fuck you mwiii #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #tag : teks posts

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rensukepie · 6 months ago

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*ೃ༄ “i wanna ride!” (ride!)

┈─ ੈ✩‧₊˚ o. a

contains : face riding, aiku teases you with his stubble :;(, aiku’s nose hits your clit ^—^, cunnilingus :3, very shy reader, established relationship, pet names (doll, angel).

who is he to say no to his pretty girl when she wants to ride his face?

a/n : inspired by @aikuposer ‘s comment about his nose…

mdni (minors do NOT interact!!)

nsfw under the cut

“you’re very, very shy.” something that was said by multiple people, even aiku said it himself. you can’t really say your thoughts out loud to him, hell—you can’t say your thoughts out loud to anybody! you can’t say them without this flush coming to your face, sounds of your stutters flying out of your mouth.

“how can you not say your thoughts out loud? i’d talk and talk everyday if i had a boyfriend…” your friend said, lips going into a pout as she talks about not having a boyfriend.

“you know… you should reallyyy tell aiku about your thoughts.. especially about that one thing..” she smiles, bursting out laughing when she thinks about it.

gosh, you regret telling your friend about that now.

aiku had a bigger nose, and he’s just so, so handsome! you can’t really believe he’s your boyfriend sometimes, you wanna try something new with him in bed though, you’ve been thinking about it allll week already! the thought of his nose hitting your clit as you ride his face, his tongue licking at your cunt.

if only you weren’t so scared of talking about your feelings.

you knew that if you weren’t so scared, maybe you’d be more comfortable about talking about your desires for him, your needs for him.

“yeah, but what if he thinks it’s weird, what if i get dumped right there—“ you say worriedly before getting cut off.

“i can absolutely guarantee you he won’t find you weird…. c’mon! tell him tonight when he comes home from his soccer game or something!” your friend says in a convincing tone that always ends up working.

“okay.. i”lll try… but if it doesn’t go well, i’m blaming you.”

“and if it does go well, you better tell me everything!” your friend shouts, teasing you even more about your boyfriend before you head back home.

┈─ ੈ✩

you’re at home now, waiting for aiku to come home from his soccer game, cooking a quick meal before you head his key jingling from outside.

“hi aiku!” you say excitedly, turning off the stove before hugging him, the familiar scent of his cologne.“missed you so much…” you whine, your voice sweet like honey.

gosh—he loves when you get clingy like this! you’re so sweet to him, so good to him.

“missed you too, sweet girl…” he says, giving you a peck before heading to the shared room between the two of you.

┈─ ੈ✩

“aiku… wanna tell you something… just really quick! ‘s been on my mind all week..” you softly say, really hoping that he can’t hear the fast beating of your heart as he scrolls away watching those silly baby chick videos he always loved.

“hm? go ahead, pretty… i’ll listen to you.” he faces your face, burning red from what you’re about to say to him.

“i wanna try something new in bed…” you say, your face into his neck, a quiet tone when you speak to him.

“oh? what did you have in mind, angel?”

“i wanna ride your face… your nose would be hitting my clit… m’sorry if it’s weird aiku i—“

“oh fuck…” he groans, his cock hardening at your words. “well, who am i to deny my pretty girl for asking so nicely, right?”

┈─ ੈ✩

“a—aiku… ohh… mmf—!♡” you whimper softly, your clit hitting his nose as you grind your hips back and fourth. if you weren’t so shy, you would’ve done this before!

“hm? feels good, right? don’t gotta be so shy now, angel…” he murmurs softly, his hands wandering to both your hips and ass.

you can’t even hear what he’s even saying to you, but his voice is vibrating into your cunt with his little groans about how good you taste and it just feels so, so good to you! you bet he’s doing it just to tease you.

“y-you’re doing that on purpose—hah..! mmf—..” you moan again, but get caught off guard when you feel his stubble on your clit, the texture of it adding even more pleasure. “aiku—! f-feels s’good…mmf..—you’re teasing me..—♡”

he continues to tease you, his tongue going a bit faster at your cunt, your hip movements getting more lazy as the pleasure catches up to your body, the weird sensation on your clit.

“gonna give up on me now, doll? we’ve only just started…” he groans, the feeling of his lips smirking on your very soaked cunt.

“c—can’t take anymo— aiku! m’gonna cum! pleasepleaseplease—… mmf!…♡”

┈─ ੈ✩

“t-thank you aiku… s’good…. missed you, by the way..” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him on the bed, your fucked out state showing off. the one that aiku always saw when he made you feel good.

what a good boyfriend he is to take care of your needs.

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sweetheartspence · 2 months ago

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‧₊˚ whisked away - s.r. ‧₊˚

Spencer is infatuated with his new neighbor, who, he soon realizes, is a terrible baker.

pairing: spencer reid x neighbor!reader genre: fluff content: fem!reader, reader is a bit loud and out there, minor house fire, baking, glasses!spencer, mutual pining, eventual kissing wc: 3.3k a/n: been working on this between finals. reader is definitely a bit more reflective of me in this one but i'm actually pretty good at baking. my roommate was baking today and this was all i could think about requests/asks are open! my masterlist!!

Spencer's a busy guy, really. He doesn't spend too much time at home, at the one bedroom apartment that's covered wall to wall with bookshelves and papers. He likes his apartment well enough, and relishes in the afternoons that he's able to kick back and relax on his couch with a cup of coffee and some science theory book that's dog eared and creased on the corners. It doesn't happen too often, though; he's too busy running from city to city, from case to case, never slowing down.

Which is why he doesn't know what to do with himself, when he gets shot in the leg. He can get around his apartment just fine, but that's about it. Garcia and Morgan had kindly brought him some groceries, and he can cook himself a decent meal. He has plenty of books from the library, and a dozen academic journal articles in the works.

Even so, Spencer is... bored.

He's gotten used to the chase, to the hustle and bustle of the office, and he finds himself unable to focus on writing without the constant stream of profiler observations in the back of his mind.

It's somehow more exhausting than traveling for work. At least then he has something to distract himself, something to-

There's a knock on his door.

Spencer glances over to the front door, a sturdy, paneled piece of wood, with a little peephole. He's not expecting anyone, or else he would have maybe showered, or tried to make himself more presentable.

He picks up his cane, hobbling over to the door, opening it.

You're on the other side, scratching your arm absentmindedly, but you immediately brighten when he opens the door.

"Hi!" You grin, crossing one ankle over the other. "Um, sorry to bother you. I wasn't sure if you were home, you're usually not, but, um, your light was on. So I kind of figured..." You trail off for a second, staring into space.

Spencer takes this moment to study you. You're lovely, really, with bright eyes and a contagious smile, shifting your weight from foot to foot like you can't sit still. You've stopped scratching your arm, but you've switched to twisting a bracelet around your wrist, around, and around, and around. Your voice is soft and melodic, and granted, he hasn't seen very many people in the past few weeks. But he's immediately captivated.

"Oh, um, I live in 204." you tell him, your face scrunching up in a smile.

A neighbor, he muses. That makes a lot more sense. More sense than this beautiful girl just showing up at his apartment for no reason, anyway.

You look at him expectantly, like you're waiting for him to say something. "Oh," Spencer manages, offering a small smile. "Um, I live... here."

"That you do," you laugh, and Spencer's breath catches in his throat. He wants to bottle the sound, to play it as white noise, to turn it into liquid and drown in it. All he can do is stare.

"Oh!" You say, snapping your fingers. "I was wondering if you had a couple of eggs I could borrow." You pause, tilting your head. "Well, not borrow, I suppose. I won't be giving them back. To have. I'm making cookies, and I didn't realize that I'm short two, and now the dough is halfway made and I don't have the time to run to the store, and-"

Spencer wonders how you have the breath in your lungs to talk for this long. He's a little bit impressed, but also entirely bewildered.

"Yeah," he says softly, cutting you off. "I've got some you can have. Um, come in?"

He pushes the door open slightly wider, and you step into his apartment, looking around.

"Goddamn, you have a lot of books," you blurt, followed by a big smile. "Not that that's a bad thing, of course. I think it's cool."

Spencer gives you a hesitant smile. He's fascinated by you, sure, by your easy smiles and constant motion, but Spencer Reid is not one to let his guard down easily.

He pokes around in his fridge until he finds the eggs, and grabs two of them out of the carton. Spencer turns to find you studying the books lining his shelves, your hands clasped behind your back, uncharacteristically quiet for the few minutes that he's known you.

He comes up next to you, his cane clicking quietly on the hardwood floor. "I've got the eggs," he says softly, holding them out.

You smile at him again, but it's softer this time, shyer. "Thank you," you tell him, taking the eggs gently, and it's so earnest that his heart aches. "You've got good taste, by the way." You gesture to the books. "A bit eclectic, but... good."

Spencer doesn't know what to think. "Yeah," he says, intelligently. "I guess I have a lot of different tastes."

"Mm," you hum softly. "That can be a good thing."

You stare at the books for another couple of seconds, and then it's like an invisible finger has reached out and popped the bubble around the two of you. You shake your head, like you're getting rid of a thought, and offer him the same bright smile.

"Okay, I gotta get back to the dough. Thank you, though!" And with that, you've breezed out of his apartment, leaving him to wonder if you were ever really there.

It's about twenty minutes later that he realizes he didn't get your name.

---

Spencer is reading up on glucocorticoids for the dozenth time the next day, when the fire alarm goes off. He's snapped out of his academic haze, and he realizes he can smell something burning in the air. He winces, immediately reaching for a pair of headphones to cover his ears. He sticks a post it note into the book, setting it aside, and hurries to investigate.

There's smoke billowing out from under the door of apartment 204, and Spencer feels his heart drop. He bolts down the hallway, pausing outside the door to feel if there's heat seeping through. When the door is decidedly cool, he pounds on it, calling out. "Hey!"

You open the door, oven mitts over your hands and a crazed look in your eye. You have flour smudged across your face, and a similar streak on your shirt. "It's fine!" You assure him quickly. "It's fine. Nothing is on fire, the cookies are just..." You look helplessly towards the oven. "...burning."

"Well, get them out of the oven," Spencer retorts, hurrying into your apartment without being invited inside. He can hear sirens in the distance, the fire department rapidly approaching.

"Well, I would," you huff. "But I maybe accidentally dumped all of the cookies into the oven while I was trying to take the tray out, and now they're in the bottom of the oven, which is very hot, and they're burning."

"I noticed," Spencer mutters, waving his hand in front of his face. His glasses have clouded up from the smoke, and he takes them off and tucks them in the breast pocket of his button-up.

He leans closer to the oven to look, and is rewarded by a lungful of smoke. Spencer coughs, covering his mouth and nose with his elbow. "You haven't even turned the oven off," he tells you, his tone a little harsher than he intended.

"I was going to!" You protest. "But then you knocked on the door, and-"

You break off into a little fit of coughs, and Spencer gives you a little glare, mumbling something about fire safety and the hazards of smoke. He clicks the oven off, and takes you by the elbow, steering you out of the apartment. "We gotta go."

"But the cookies-" you start, and Spencer fixes you with a look.

"Are burnt," he finishes. "Unsalvageable. All you're doing by staying here is putting more smoke into your lungs, which leads to debris buildup in your airway and asphyxiation. Not to mention decreased blood flow, which can cause angina and stroke, plus all the carbon monoxide is sure to make you sick."

The hurt expression on your face has shifted, replaced with surprise. "You- how do you know all of that?"

"I know a lot of things," Spencer mutters, tugging insistently on your elbow. "We're getting out. Now."

There's no room in his tone for argument, and you sigh, letting him lead you out of your apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street. Sirens wail, and a fire engine comes into sight, lights blazing. It takes Spencer longer than it should for him to realize he's still holding onto your elbow, and he lets go as the firefighters come over to talk to the two of you. He lets you take the reigns, leaning back against the wall.

You recount the story loudly and animatedly, waving your arms wildly and making a few explosion sound effects that Spencer thinks were not necessary. They are, however, horribly endearing, and Spencer finds himself sporting the same amused expression as the firefighters.

By the time the whole debacle is over, Spencer has wasted an entire afternoon standing around with you on the edge of the curb next to his apartment building. Usually, he'd be annoyed.

This time, he can't quite find it in him to care.

---

There's a box of cookies delivered to his door that evening, with a little card. It says, "Thanks for the help. Here's some cookies- I didn't make these ones, don't worry."

And it's signed with your name.

Spencer turns your name over and over in his mind, tracing the letters with a fingertip into the fabric of his pants. He's not even quite aware that he's doing it, completely caught up in the book that he's reading. But it nags in his subconscious, ever present.

He hangs the little card on his fridge with a magnet.

---

The third interaction he has with you is in the coffee shop on the corner. You're sitting with your friends, giggling about god knows what, and the light is coming through the window just right to make your eyes shine. Spencer is sure he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

The two of you aren't friends, per se. Spencer wonders for a brief moment if he should say hello, greet you or something, but he doesn't think you're quite at that stage of your relationship. You're just neighbors, after all.

Spencer orders his coffee, making his way to the other end of the counter to wait for it. You're completely engrossed in your conversation with your friends, not even looking up from the discussion.

"No, he looked at me, and he was kind of mad that I was still in the apartment while the cookies were burning, and I swear I swooned," you're saying. Spencer doesn't really mean to eavesdrop, but your voice is quite loud, and- are you talking about him?

"What, and then he dragged you out of the apartment?" Your friend asks, sounding amused.

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically. "I had to deal with the firefighters. I was gonna thank him, but he was gone when I was done." You sound wistful, almost, your tone softer.

"Listen to her," another one of your friends snickers. "She's smitten."

"Am not!" You protest, your tone defensive. Spencer's heart sinks. "He was just... there. And he's pretty, sure, but that doesn't mean-"

"Oh, she thinks he's pretty," your friend crows, laughing. "C'mon, babe, I haven't seen you talk this much about someone in ages, and you've barely talked to the guy."

You huff, sitting back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't have a crush on him."

Your friends both raise their eyebrows, leaning forward. "Yeah? We never said you had a crush on him," they tease. "Even though you definitely do."

"Hey, that's not-" you start, but your friends cut you off.

"Yeah, she definitely likes him," one of them giggles.

"Absolutely," the other one chimes in. "Even if someone doesn't want to admit it to herself."

"What's your Prince Charming look like, anyway?" The first one teases.

You sigh, but there's a smile pulling at your lips. "Tall," you say softly. "Kind of like, a tortured academic vibe. Seems like he knows a lot, but also clueless somehow."

Spencer's brow creases, feeling slightly offended.

"Big brown eyes and curly dark hair," you smile. "Like, a huge dork."

"Look how smiley she is," your friends giggle.

Before you can protest, the barista calls Spencer's name, and he startles to attention. He takes the coffee, thanking them, and turns around.

You're staring at him, mouth agape, cheeks slightly flushed. You give him a tiny wave.

Spencer can feel his own face start to heat up, and he gives you a nod of acknowledgement, a smile that comes out more like a grimace, and a little wave in return, before bolting out of the coffee shop.

There's two thoughts on his mind. First, that you like him. Second of all, what is he going to do about it?

---

Spencer has a plan. It's foolproof, really, and he internally congratulates himself for being so clever.

You're a terrible baker, as he's gathered. And he's... not the best, but certainly better than you, and besides, baking is just science, isn't it? He can hold his own in a kitchen.

He has ingredients for a solid batch of chocolate chip cookies, tucked away into the cupboards of his kitchen. Spencer pulls out a little sheet of paper, scribbling a note down to slip under your door in his chicken scratch handwriting.

Craving cookies. Could use an assistant. 8 pm, if you're interested. - 205.

Spencer is desperately hoping you're interested.

---

There's a knock on his door at 8:02. Spencer's pacing his kitchen, his hair rumpled from running his hands through it, and he quickly makes his way to the door, flinging it open.

"You came," he says, looking you up and down, his gaze flickering to your mouth for a moment.

"You invited me," you shoot back, raising your eyebrows in amusement.

"I did," Spencer agrees, leaning against the doorframe. "You still came, though."

"I did," you repeat, giving a little nod. You look pleased with yourself. "Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna stand in your doorway, or...?"

Spencer realizes he hasn't exactly invited you in, and hurries to rectify that. "Yeah, um, of course," he says, stepping out of the doorway and into his apartment. You follow him, your hands clasped in front of you, following him to the kitchen. You push your sleeves up, past your elbows, freeing your hands.

"Do you have a recipe, or are we winging this?" You grin, and Spencer realizes that it might have been a monumentally bad idea to invite you over to bake.

He blinks owlishly at you from behind his glasses. "Well, of course we're going to use a recipe," he says, affronted. You roll your eyes.

"Well, I usually don't, but okay," you mumble under your breath, setting about pulling bowls and ingredients out like you own the place. Spencer likes the look of you in his kitchen, moving about. It's domestic. Intimate in a way he wasn't expecting.

"Well, what happened last time you tried to bake without a recipe?" He teases, shooting you a slightly lopsided smile at you, before following your lead in rolling up his sleeves. You can't help but shoot a look at his exposed forearms that lasts maybe slightly too long.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, continuing to pull open drawers. "Where on earth do you keep your whisks?"

Spencer huffs out a soft laugh at your petulance, coming up behind you and placing a gentle hand on your waist. Your breath catches. He nudges you to the side, pulling open the drawer you were standing in front of, and pulling out the whisk.

"Yeah, yup, okay, thank you," you stutter out, your cheeks flushed from his hand placement. The corner of Spencer's mouth lifts.

The baking goes smoothly for about five minutes, in which you've managed to get eggs, sugar, brown sugar, and butter into a mixing bowl, and Spencer is whisking it together. You set a container of salt down next to the mixing bowl, peering over his shoulder.

"Damn, that looks a lot better than my dough," you mumble, your nose wrinkling. Spencer can't tell if you're impressed or embarrassed, or maybe annoyed at him for being better than you at baking.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you use a recipe," he retorts, shooting you a look that says I told you so.

You're still grumbling under your breath as you pull out the flour.

Spencer turns to look at you, and is greeted with a finger swiping across his cheek. He blinks, and then realizes you're holding the open bag of flour, a mischievous look on your face. He reaches up to touch his face, and surely enough, his fingertips come away stained with flour.

"You got flour on me," he deadpans.

"I did," you agree, letting out a giggle. "And I'm gonna do it again."

You flick more flour at him, getting it on his nose and his shirt, and he can't help but laugh, making a grab for the back of flour. Spencer grabs it from you, grabbing a handful to toss at you, and you shriek, giggling uncontrollably.

"Not fair," you laugh, trying to grab the bag back, and Spencer holds it high over your head. He's got a couple of inches on you.

"Is too fair," he shoots back, grinning. "You started it."

You jump, trying to grab onto the corner of the bag, but Spencer holds it just out of reach. You suddenly realize how close he is to you, his honey brown eyes sparkling with mirth.

You flush, backing away, your back to the counter. "Yeah, I suppose I did," you admit. "Sorry."

Spencer takes a step closer, boxing you in against the countertop, feeling especially brave. "You don't look very sorry," he murmurs.

You look up at him, your eyes wide. "You're... uh, very close to me," you whisper.

"I am," Spencer agrees. There's flecks of flour in your eyelashes, splayed out onto your cheeks like freckles. "Would you like me to move?"

You shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off of his.

"I heard you talking in the coffee shop," he says softly. "You were talking about me, to your friends. You think I'm pretty."

You start to make a noise of protest, to explain it away, but he cuts you off with a gentle hand on your waist. His eyes bore into yours.

"Do you still think I'm pretty?" Spencer murmurs, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

That's all the invitation you need, and then your lips are on his, your arms coming up to wind around his neck. Your fingers slide into his hair, curling into the bits around the nape of his neck, and you've never been so happy to have been overheard in your life.

His tongue traces against your lower lip, making a soft, desperate, needy noise in the back of his throat. Spencer suddenly grips your hips, picking you up and setting you gently on the counter with surprising ease.

You make a surprised noise against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sliding it just under your lip. One of his hands move to the small of your back, settling there, and the other to your thigh, holding you in place.

You lean back just a bit more, knocking into the salt, which spills all over the counter and into the cookie dough. Your lips disconnect from his with a wet pop, and Spencer stares down at the dough, his lips glistening with spit and slightly swollen.

You swear under your breath, shifting on the counter, moving to get off, but Spencer holds you in place.

"I'm sorry I ruined the dough," you whisper.

"S'okay," Spencer murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours. "I didn't really care about the cookies."

You laugh, leaning back in, your lips finding his again.

It's safe to say that there were no cookies baked that evening.

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