#I wish I remembered the rest of the dream better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deargojou · 3 months

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╔══ஓ๑ 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 ๑ஓ══╗

∷ 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 ⋯ Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

∷ 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃 ⋯ 2.2K // Fluff. Pet names (baby + angel).

∷ 𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 ⋯ He proposed to you in his dream, and when he wakes up, you’re officially his—to his confusion and delight.

Gojo slowly blinked open his eyes, gradually emerging from the haze of sleep. He became aware of the warm weight pressed against his side and looked down to see you nestled close, head pillowed on his chest as you continued to slumber. A small, content smile pulled at his lips and he brushed his fingers through your hair, careful not to wake you.

As he admired you in repose, he noticed your hand resting over his heart, fingers loosely curled. The morning sunlight streaming in through the curtains caught on something shiny adorning your ring finger—a delicate band topped with a sparkling gemstone.

His brow furrowed slightly. He didn’t remember proposing, yet here you were wearing what could only be an engagement ring. Carefully, trying not to wake you, he lifted your hand to get a better look at the ring. It was a simple but elegant diamond solitaire on a silver band.

Definitely an engagement ring.

Gojo racked his brain, but he couldn’t recall buying it or asking you to marry him.

A feeling of panic started rising within him. How could he have proposed and not remember it? That didn’t make any sense.

He loved you more than anything, of course, he wanted to marry you someday. But he would never forget something so important.

He glanced back down at your sleeping face, now feeling utterly confused. Where did this ring come from? Did you somehow found out about the ring he hid and decided to just wear it? Or was this some kind of prank? None of the possibilities made sense.

Still puzzled, he sighed and softly set your hand back down and pressed a light kiss to your forehead before carefully extracting himself from your embrace.

You mumbled in your sleep and clutched at the spot he had vacated, making him smile fondly. He tucked the blankets more snugly around you before quietly slipping out of the bedroom.

In the kitchen, Gojo busied himself making tea with tons of sugar cubes and breakfast, all the while turning over the mystery of the ring in his mind. The sizzling of smoked beef and the aroma of fresh tea eventually lured you from bed.

You padded into the kitchen dressed in one of his t-shirts and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “Morning,” you murmured, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

He turned in your embrace and noted the ring still prominently displayed on your finger. “Morning. Sleep well?”

You nodded and smiled up at him. “Like a rock. You?”

“Just fine.” He caresses your cheeks, letting his fingers trail along your jaw. “I couldn’t help but notice your ring this morning.”

“Huh?”

“Where did you get that ring?” he asked.

Your brow furrowed. “What ring?”

Gojo lifted your hand, displaying the diamond ring for you to see.

“Oh…” you finally realize what he’s talking about, softening your eyes as you gaze at the ring. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is. Now, would you mind reminding me when I gave it to you? My memory is a little fuzzy on the details.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You mean… you don’t remember proposing to me?”

He shook his head apologetically and laughed somewhat nervously. “I wish I could say I did. I think I’d remember proposing to you.”

You just stare him for a long moment before you dropped your gaze. “I see,” you said quietly.

Immediately, Gojo tilted your chin back up with a knuckle under your jaw. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, baby. I just… I want to remember something as important as asking you to marry me, and it’s bothering me that I can’t.” He caresses your cheek ever so gently. “Talk to me. Help me fill in the blanks?”

You stare down at the glittering diamond on your finger, a slight pang in your chest at the realization that he doesn’t remember proposing to you. You take a deep breath and offer him a comforting smile.

“It’s okay that you don’t remember,” you say gently. “I know you’ve been so busy with work lately. Honestly, I’m just happy you found a chance to surprise me at all.”

You reach to squeeze his hand, hoping your understanding will reassure him. You know Gojo loves you deeply, his forgetfulness doesn’t change that. Still, you had hoped the moment he asked you to be his wife would be seared into his mind just as indelibly as it is in yours.

Gojo frowns, clearly bothered. “I’m so sorry, baby. I wish I could recall every detail. Asking you to marry me should be the most unforgettable moment of my life.” He brings your hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss over the ring. “You deserve to have a fiancé who cherishes that memory as much as you do.”

You shake your head, touched by his remorse. “You do cherish me, even if the specifics slipped your mind this time. It’s really okay.” You squeeze his hand again. “Now, tell me more about this lovely ring. Did you pick it out yourself?”

You try to steer the conversation to lighter topics, but Gojo remains preoccupied. As you chat over breakfast, his responses are distracted, his gaze drifting frequently to the ring that has become a symbol of his perceived failure.

Later, as you clean up the breakfast dishes, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m taking you out again tonight to recreate our engagement, exactly as it should be remembered,” he murmurs. “I won’t rest until I’ve made this right.”

You turn in his arms and cup his face in your hands. “Satoru, please don’t beat yourself up over this. I already told you, it’s okay.” You search his eyes, trying to convey your sincerity.

He covers your hands with his own and turns his head to kiss your palm. "It’s not okay with me," he says seriously. “You deserve the proposal you’ve always imagined. I want to replace this memory with one we can both cherish.”

“It’s okay, love. Really. You must have been tired when you—” and he doesn’t let you finish your word.

“No excuses,” he interrupts. “Let me make it up to you today.”

Seeing how important this is to him, you nod reluctantly. “Alright. If it will make you feel better.”

His expression softens. “It will. Trust me.” He kisses you tenderly then sends you off to pamper yourself while he makes plans.

Before you can protest, Gojo whisks you back to bed, insisting you relax while he pampers you all day. He brings breakfast on a silver tray—pancakes drizzled in syrup, mixed berries, and sweet tea.

Wrapping you in a plush robe, Gojo ushers you to the room, where he’s arranged for a massage therapist, manicurist, and hairstylist to spend the afternoon primping and relaxing you. Once you’re thoroughly pampered, Gojo presents you with a gift box.

“Just a little something to complement your existing beauty,” Gojo murmurs.

You start to protest the extravagance, but Gojo silences you with a kiss. “No complaints, let me spoil you today.”

He also takes you shopping and encourages you to pick out anything your heart desires, no matter the price.

At dinner, take you to the most exclusive 5-star restaurant in town. The maître d’ promptly escorts you to the best table, overlooking the cityscape.

He orders a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne (since he can’t drink), and you dine on lobster, filet mignon, and decadent desserts. He insists on hand-feeding you chocolate-dipped strawberries, stealing occasional kisses between bites.

Over dessert, he presents you with a beautiful new silver bracelet to complement your ring. He promised again that he would re-propose soon with a memory to cherish.

“You are too much sometimes. How could I repay you?” you sigh, basking in his treatment.

“Just you by my side is more than enough. Oh, maybe some late-night stress release would be nice,” he bites his lower lip with a playful wink.

After a romantic dinner, Gojo takes you back to the beautiful park fountain where he first asked you out. Under the shimmering lights, he drops gracefully to one knee and pours out his heart, confessing his unwavering love and asking you once more for the honor of becoming his wife.

“My beautiful angel, will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife? I promise to love, cherish, and adore you every moment of every day for the rest of our lives. What do you say, baby?”

Without wasting a second, you answered. The delight on your face when you say yes again makes his heart swell.

This time as he slips the ring onto your finger, unfallen tears make his eyes glossy. He remembers vividly selecting the perfect diamond, picturing how it would look adorning your hand.

He stands and gathers you into his arms. “Thank you for giving me a second chance to get this right,” he murmurs against your hair. “I’ll never forget a single moment of this night for as long as I live.”

You cling to him, your own eyes misty. “I know you won’t,” you whisper.

Gojo tilts your chin up to meet your gaze. “You’re so beautiful, baby… I love you."

He seals that promise with a long, deep kiss under the glow of the fountain, leaving you both breathless.

Once you both pull away, you smile up at him, but then begin to giggle. He looks at you in confusion as your giggles grow into full laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with a perplexed smile.

You take a moment to compose yourself before answering, amusement dancing in your eyes. “The truth is, you didn’t actually forget our proposal.”

“Huh?” He looked more confused than ever. “What do you mean?” he holds your face firmly like he’s searching for an answer behind your laughter.

“You did it in your sleep!”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What? I sleep proposed to you?”

You grin and nod, taking his hands in yours. “Yes! That night, you suddenly shook me awake in bed. Your eyes were closed but you took my hand and started rambling this utterly romantic speech about how much you loved me and wanted us to be together forever. Then you pressed the ring box into my palm and mumbled something adorable like ‘Be mine always?’”

You have to pause as another fit of giggles takes over while he just stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Naturally, I said yes,” you continue, “because awake or asleep, I’ll always accept your proposal. You slipped the ring onto my finger, gave me a sweet kiss, and then promptly rolled over and started snoring!”

Now you’re laughing so hard there are tears in your eyes. Gojo remains frozen for a beat before breaking into laughter too.

“I proposed to you in my sleep? And have no memory of it at all?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Well, that certainly explains my confusion this morning.”

You nod, still grinning. “I realized you must have done it in your sleep, but I didn’t want to say anything at first. I thought your dramatic distress over forgetting was too adorable!”

You dissolve into giggles again. Gojo chuckles and pulls you into his arms. “You find my suffering amusing, do you? You act all sad and pouty when in reality you knew about this?” He tickles your sides playfully, making you squeal.

“How was it being spoiled, hmm?” He showers your face with kisses as he tickles your side. He said that as if he doesn’t spoil you often already.

When your laughter finally subsides, Gojo gazes at you tenderly and brushes a tear from your cheek. “I’m glad one of us will remember the actual proposal, even if I was unconscious about it.”

He pauses before speaking again, “Though now I’m wondering if I should redo it a third time?”

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “I think twice is enough, don’t you think? Or do you just want another excuse to propose to me?”

You lean in and kiss him sweetly. Gojo hums against your lips. “You’re right as always. I wouldn’t change a thing about how we got here.”

He holds you close, admiring the ring on your finger. “Well, we’re now officially engaged to be married. That’s all that matters.”

You snuggle into his embrace, heart overflowing with love. “So, tell me, what were you dreaming that night when you proposed to me,” you ask with a giggle, finding the situation weirdly funny.

“Oh!” His eyes widened. “That must have been some dream I had.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess my subconscious wanted to make our engagement official before my conscious mind caught up.”

You laugh and hug him tighter. “Clearly your heart knew what it wanted even if your brain didn’t yet.” You pause. “But what made you decide to propose in your dream? We’ve never really talked about marriage.”

Gojo wraps his arms around you. “Honestly? We were on a romantic getaway in my dream. We’d spent the whole day exploring together and I was just overwhelmed by how perfectly happy I felt with you.”

He smiles softly, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I looked over at you watching the sunset, and it just hit me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, making you this happy. I realized at that moment that I couldn’t imagine a future without you as my wife. So dream-me proposed on the spot.”

Your smile at his tender words. You cup his face and kiss him again. “Well, I’m thankful for the dream-you were brave enough to ask before real-you.” You grin playfully and chuckle. “Yeah, you might as well be begging dream-me to re-propose in your sleep.”

You snuggle closer. “Maybe we should just let our dream-selves get married too, so both versions of us can be happy.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea. We could have a double ceremony. One dream wedding and one awake.”

“And I can’t wait to spend forever with you, whether you’re awake or asleep when you ask.”

Gojo laughs and kisses the top of your head. “I promise I’ll stay conscious for the actual wedding ceremony,” he teases.

“We’ll see. Maybe sleepwalking Satoru will surprise me again.”

As he gazes into your eyes, his expression becomes serious. “Mmm, marrying you for real is my dream come true. I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

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xdjville · 19 days

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nct dream's voicemails

pairing: nct dream x gn!reader

genre: really all of them are different genres so idk buckle up; angst, established relationship (mark); comfort, established relationship (renjun); friends who have a thing going on and the dreamies are menaces (jeno); classmates, acquaintances but you're kinda cute (haechan); sick reader, fluff, established relationship (jaemin); basketball player and his "friend", bonus: he's drunk (chenle); idol x non idol, established relationship, kind of angsty if you squint but not really (jisung)

cw: cursing in mark's and jeno's, chenle's under the influence and he calls reader "pretty"

#mark

"i'm sorry. look, i... i know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, i get it. i shouldn't have said any of that and i'm so fucking sorry. i hate what i did and i have no excuse for being an asshole to you, but it's been almost two hours since you left and honestly i'm so worried i'm losing my mind. you don't have to come back yet, or call me back if you don't want to, but please, for the love of god, just let me know you're somewhere safe. shit, i'm so, so sorry. let's talk when you're ready, okay? i'll sleep on the couch tonight, so if you come back you can take the bedroom. i'm sorry. i love you."

#renjun

"hi, y/n. i'm sorry for calling so late, but, uh, i wanted to check up on you, you seemed a bit off today. maybe i'm imagining things, i don't know, but i couldn't stop thinking about it so i still wanted to ask. you don't have to tell me now, we can talk about it whenever you're comfortable, or not at all if you don't want to. just know i'm here for you, okay? it's normal to have worse days, so i'll try not to worry too much. i hope you'll feel better when you wake up in the morning. call me tomorrow, hm? we can go to that new ice cream place you told me about. sleep well, love you."

#jeno

"jesus, can you guys shut the fuck up– hey, uh, sorry for that, it's jeno. um, i'm calling because we're going to get some drinks at the bar down the street later tonight, and i– we were wondering if you maybe wanna tag along? we thought it could be fun hanging out outside of class since the semester is almost over. it's fine if you're busy though, no pressure. we're going out around, uh, nine, i think? so if you're up, call me back and i'll give you the details, yeah? alright, that's all, talk to you later. seriously, you guys are such fucking–"

#haechan

"uhm... hi, it's donghyuck. you probably didn't pick up since you don't have my number, but, uh, i called tell you that you left your sunglasses at the library yesterday. i asked mark for your number because we won't see each other untill chem next week and i thought you might need them, so... if you'd like to get them back just let me know? we could meet at the library again, or at get a coffee... or something. or i can give them to you in chem. whatever works for you! i don't mind either. just, uh, just let me know, okay? bye."

#jaemin

"hi, baby. how are you holding up? you must be sleeping, that's good. you need a lot of rest, hm? i hope by the time you're listening to this you will be feeling a little better. did your fever go down yet? there's food from my mom that i left in your fridge, you should eat that, i'm sure it's going to set you up. remember to stay hydrated too, yeah? i'll drop by with some groceries tonight, so let me know if you want anything specific. now rest well, love, i'll see you later."

#chenle

"y/n... you told me to call you when i get home, so why didn't... why aren't you pickin' up? well i– i'm home now, and, uh... renjun drove me there, so don't worry. anyways... i wanted t'say thank you, for coming to the game today. i honestly think we won only because you were there. you looked like... really, really... pretty. like... super pretty. when you, uh, hugged me after the match, i almost kissed you, you know? you're like my lucky charm... yeah, my lucky charm. i wanted to kiss you really bad. i wish you were here now so i could kiss you. can you come over tomorrow? mhm, 'm gonna go to bed now. bye, y/n–"

#jisung

"hey, how are you doing? it must be the middle of the night for you, you're probably asleep. i hope i didn't wake you up, i'm sorry if i did... i called you because i wanted to hear your voice. i, uh... i miss you, a lot. we had a day to ourselves to explore a bit, it was fun! it really was. but the whole time i couldn't stop thinking about how much more fun it would be with you there. i didn't want to kill the mood for the others, but i couldn't help missing you more today. did you miss me more, too? maybe it's like a soulmate thing... god, i sound so cheesy right now. anyways, the guys said they miss you too. chenle said we should all get hotpot together when we're done with the tour. sounds nice, right? oh, this voicemail is getting long... let's talk when you wake up, i'll call you after the concert. i lo– i miss you. sleep tight."

#taglist ➼♡ @bambisnc @suzayaaa

©xdjville

#nct imagines #nct reactions #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #nct dream #nct #kpop fluff #kpop angst

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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bruisedboys · 5 months

Note

This celebration is ADORABLE! Finnick Odair with ❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜

hi honey, thank you so much! join the celebration

finnick odair x fem!reader (r is implied to be a past victor)

You feel a bit silly standing at Finnick’s door in your pyjamas, your face damp with tears, bare feet sinking into the carpeted floor. The train hums beneath you, almost hypnotising. You’re a bad sleeper in general, but being on this train has resurfaced so many things you wish you could forget. You don’t know why you expected any better, but tonight’s been dreadful.

You’re not sure if Finnick will even answer the door. You want to try anyway because your heart won’t stop racing and he’s the only person you’d ever want to see at a time like this.

“Finnick?” You swallow around the thick lump in your throat and knock softly on his door. “It’s me.”

He’s at the door faster than you expected. Perhaps he was having as bad a night as you.

“Y/N?” Finnick blinks at you. His hair’s a mess, his shirt crumpled. “Hey. Sweetheart, what are you doing up?”

You blink away fresh tears that threaten to spill. “I’m— I can’t sleep,” you confess. Red hot embarrassment creeps up your neck like flames. “I’m really sorry I woke you.”

Finnick shakes his head. “No, no, don’t be,” he murmurs, a pinch between his brows. “It’s okay, honey, I get it. Did you want to come in?”

You nod silently. He encourages you in to sit on the end of his bed, letting the door shut behind you. You and Finnick, you have a strange relationship. You’re very close, he knows you inside out, has learnt all your secrets but one. You think you’re in love with him, and you really hope he feels the same, but you’re worried that sparkly hope is blinding you. Either way, he’ll do anything for you, which is why you’re here.

You sit on his bed, silent. Your chest feels tight, like someone’s gone and tied a knot with all your organs. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away desperately.

Finnick moves to stand over you, tall and firm but buzzing with worry. He takes your face in his hands, achingly gentle.

“You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asks softly. He swipes at your lower lash line where fresh tears are starting to gather. “What’s made a pretty girl like you cry so much, hm?”

You’re so upset you miss his blatant flirting. You’ll remember it in the morning, though, and you won’t be able to look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

“I keep having these awful dreams,” you say, your voice a strained, weak thing. You take a deep breath, determined to get through telling Finnick what’s bothering you without crying. “I thought they’d gone away, but I guess being on this train, it’s all come flooding back. It’s horrible, Finnick. I don’t …”

Your voice breaks. Your face crumples. So much for not crying. The first of a fresh round of tears spill over Finnick’s hands. He makes a sad, pitying noise and wraps you up in a strong hug.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He encourages your head to his abdomen, seemingly not caring that your tears are quickly dampening his shirt. He rubs your back with a big, warm hand. “It’s okay.”

He lets you cry into his shirt for as long as you need. You know he knows there’s nothing much he can say. Not that he’s said already, anyway. You’re always gonna be haunted, always followed by the sharp bite of grief and guilt. Still, it’s nice to be understood. To be touched like he’s trying to hold all of the pieces of you together lest you crumble.

Finnick rubs your back diligently until the tears ebb and you’re breathing normally again. He pulls back and you miss his warmth. You wish he’d hold you forever. His hands feel grounding as he tilts your face up to look at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he tells you softly. “Yeah?”

You nod. Your head hurts. Your chest burns from crying so much and you’re bone-deep tired. Finnick must notice, because he strokes your cheek fondly.

“You’re tired, lovely girl?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement. His warm hand where it loves on your cheek is enough to send you to sleep. You feel very safe with him indeed. “You need sleep. You’re welcome to stay here, if you want. Would you like to?”

“If that’s okay,” you whisper hoarsely.

Finnick smiles, a soft pretty thing, enough to make your heavy heart soar. He chucks you under the chin fondly. “Of course it’s okay, sweetheart. I think we’ll both get a better sleep if you’re here with me.”

You’re too tired to ask what he means, but you can guess.

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literaryavenger · 1 month

Text

Thoughtful

Summary: You find something of Bucky's.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Warnings: My poor attempts at being funny. No use of Y/N. Just a whole lot of fluff.

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: This is a dream I had and I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to write it down. Hope somebody enjoys it!

Masterlist

“Good morning.” you say casually to Bucky sitting at the island as you enter the kitchen.

He merely nods back to acknowledge your presence while sipping his coffee. It’s not like Bucky doesn’t like you, he’s just not a morning person. But the whole team is used to his morning grumpiness.

Also, you and the brunette supersoldier aren’t particularly close, so you don’t really expect bells and whistles when he sees you.

You pour some coffee for yourself and then sit on the kitchen island in front of Bucky. A light jingle coming from under your shirt gets Bucky’s attention and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that?” He asks you, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You frown at his question before following his eyeline and seeing him looking at your chest. But he’s not staring at your boobs through your admittedly thin tank top, he’s looking under them where he can see something resting between the fabric and your skin.

You’re honestly confused at what that is for a moment before you remember and your eyes widen a little as your cheeks start reddening in embarrassment.

Bucky’s confused at your reaction as he watches you take the chain around your neck to bring out the set of dog tags around your neck and Bucky frowns even more.

“I didn’t know you were in the military…” He comments while looking at the tags and then at you, unclear as to why you’d be embarrassed about it.

“I wasn’t…” You say quietly while glancing down at the tags. “They’re kinda… yours.”

Bucky’s even more dumbfounded by your answer. But, after letting your words sink in and deciding he indeed heard you correctly, he couldn’t help the grin that started to grow on his face, much to your surprise.

You thought maybe he’d be mad, although it’s not like you stole them, you simply found them. But still, you were worried what he might think about you wearing them.

“Oh good, I thought I lost them!” He says relieved. “I looked for them everywhere.”

“Well, can I have them back now?” He asks you after a moment of silence and you realize you haven’t even taken them off yet this whole time.

So you quickly do, leaning over the kitchen island and setting them down carefully on his outstretched hand. You watch him put them on, your eyes lingering on the metal on his chest a minute longer than necessary before going back up to his.

“And why exactly are you wearing my dog tags?” He asks, and right now you wish he’d get mad at you instead. Anything is better than the amusement that’s all over his face at watching you squirm in your seat.

“I found them at the gym… But it’s not like I was planning to keep them.” You quickly justify yourself, your tone entirely too defensive even to your own ears as you blush more. “But you had just left for your mission with Steve and I thought I would just keep them safe until you came back, so I put them on… But I had every intention to give them back, I swear!”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, doll...” He says, his grin turning into a full grown smirk as he points out the obvious. “But I’ve been back for a week, and you were still wearing them.”

“Yeah, I-I guess I got so used to them that I forgot to give them back…” You say quietly, your face turning impossibly red as Bucky seems to be having the time of his life right now.

You groan internally when you see his smirk still going strong at your embarrassment and you decide to cut your losses and not give him more fuel to add to the fire before 9am.

You get up and put your empty cup in the sink. As you turn around you’re startled to find the Sergeant much closer to you than he was before, the kitchen island no longer between you. He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything or even pull away before he’s talking.

“On the other hand…” He takes his dog tags off and reaches out to put them around your neck, making sure to keep his eyes on the metal and not glance at your boobs no matter how much he wants to. “Maybe you could hold onto them for me.”

He looks at the tags on your chest then up to your face before he pulls away completely with a quiet “Beautiful.” and takes a step back, leaving you a flustered mess.

After a minute you remember how to breathe and you glance down at the tags. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. We wouldn’t want me to lose them again now, would we?” He says with a smile, reaching out to lift your chin gently and making you look at him. “But you’ll keep them safe for me, right doll?”

You nod almost without thinking about it, his eyes putting you in a trance. You’re sure you’d agree to anything right about now, all you can really hear is your own heart pounding anyway.

“Plus, now I can do this…” He lets go of your chin and wraps his hand around the chain of the dog tags.

He uses his hold on them to pull you closer and your heart skips a beat as he leaves you a soft kiss on your lips. You barely realize what’s happening before he’s pulling away again and you merely look at him with your mouth agape in shock.

Before you can say anything, though, you hear snickers from the door of the kitchen and you both turn towards it just to see the whole team there. All of them have smirks, grins and smiles, everyone delighted at the situation as your face starts getting redder than Tony’s Iron-man suit.

You look back at Bucky and the cheeky bastard is also smirking, clearly much more amused than you at being caught like this.

“Okay, well,” You say while clearing your throat awkwardly and stepping away from Bucky to escape from this situation altogether. “I’m gonna go research the tallest building in New York so I can throw myself off of it.”

Your deadpan reaction leaves everyone laughing as they get away from the door so you can pass.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, it wasn’t that bad!” Tony yells after you between laughs, obviously sarcastic and you roll your eyes.

“Bite me, Stark!” you yell back, not even tempted to look back as you try to hide a smile of your own while hearing the team’s amusement in the kitchen.

You’re still a little in shock that Bucky kissed you but, once the embarrassment at the team having witnessed it washes away, you can’t wait to follow up on this with Sergeant Grumpy.

Part 2

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monicahar · 1 year

Text

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto the back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

#scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #wanderer x reader #har❗fiction #nahida #genshin impact fanfic

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eternally-racing · 4 months

Text

not private, not secret | oscar piastri

wc: <1k (short n sweet 😌)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

genre: fluff

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: you and oscar have kept your relationship secret for this long, but oscar can't help but celebrate with you for his very first formula 1 win.

----

You were well accustomed to being a shadow in the McLaren garage. It’s the way you and Oscar had decided you liked it best.

There was no pressure from the media, no mean comments on social media, and the less prying eyes into your relationship, the better. Only a select few people on the team knew that you were Oscar’s girlfriend, the rest easily bought up the lie that you were the daughter of a very rich investor in the team who wanted to be at every race. It usually wasn’t that hard to keep quiet, but today was a big day and you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest at every turn. For the first time in his Formula 1 career your boyfriend was leading the race, and with only a few more laps to go you were praying that today would be the day that his dream came true. As you looked to the pit wall you could see Andrea’s foot nervously twitching against the foot rest of his chair, he felt it too. This would easily be the biggest moment of Oscar’s career if it comes true, and there are only a few more laps to go.

It’s a moment you never want to forget as the checkered flag comes out for Oscar’s car. You can’t stop the tears leaking out from your eyes as you hear the jubilation on his voice through the radio. This is a moment that both of you imagined for so long, but the reality of the situation surpassed all of your expectations. It’s a full celebration with the team as everyone is thoroughly overjoyed. You’re swept up with thinking about Oscar that you don’t even notice the other papaya car cross the line after Oscar. It’s a 1-2 finish, there’s not much more a team could ever wish for in a race. McLaren hasn’t felt joy like this in years. There’s a full sea of papaya out in front of the podium to greet the race winner, and you’re not sure where you fit into things - you blend in easily with the crowd while simultaneously being swept up in it. You’ve made a couple of friends in the garage and stick closely to them as the party already seems to be beginning on the paddock.

You’ve never seen Oscar like this before - he takes a minute in the car before getting out (you can only assume he was wiping his tears of joy, even if he is too stubborn to admit it). You have your phone out taking a couple of pictures yourself - you know that there’s 1000s of cameras around that are also pointed at your boyfriend, but you want to remember what it feels like to see this moment through your eyes.

After hugging his engineer and the rest of the team members, you can see Oscar’s gaze start to wander around the paddock, and it’s only once he changes directions do you figure out that he’s looking for you. There’s cameras flashing and the live TV feed clearly following over his shoulder, but your eyes are only locked on each other as Oscar reaches out for you. He stays in your arms for long enough that people can probably get the hint that you’re someone special.

“I really couldn’t have done this without you love, thank you” Oscar says with tears pooling in his eyes. This is his “I made it moment”, and he wants nothing more than to share it with you. There’s so many words that you want to say, but you find yourself speechless as you stare into Oscar’s eyes. Instead, you go with the action that you’ve dreamt of doing ever since you started dating. It’s your first helmet kiss of what will be many more to follow. Oscar warned you that it wouldn’t taste very good, especially given the dusty race conditions of the day, but it brings such joy to your heart to be able to celebrate with him.

When Oscar’s up on the podium he points to you as he lifts the trophy up to the cheers of the crowd, mouthing an “I love you” to you down below that you know will make the rounds on social media. But you don’t care one bit about that anymore. People could throw all the hate in the world your way, but there was nothing like the pride of celebrating your boyfriend’s first f1 win.

-----

author's note: was in a bit of a writing slump working on pt.2s for a lot of my other fics so i just wanted to write something short and sweet! hope u all enjoyed it :) My ask box is still open as always if you have any requests. Until next time! - Em <3

#oscar piastri #formula 1 fic #oscar paistri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x yn #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fic #mclaren f1

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bisexualiteaa · 28 days

Note

could you write something where cooper is talking the reader through it, but like, super sweetly and lovesick?

Talk Me Through It, Baby

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!! And some domestic fluff)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! Established relationship, lingerie, flirting, cursing, reader being all enticing, 🤭 p in v, unprotected sex, p0rn w/o plot, domestic Cooper, irradiated cream pie, fingering, oral, (fem receiving) praise, Cooper talking you through sex and making love to you, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviation from TV series

AN: the creative juices are flowing people! I’m loving it, thank you all to have given me asks, it has been so much fun getting to write stuff for you guys! I think i may be done posting for today and have a busy rest of the week ahead of me but keep a look out within the coming weeks for those whose asks I have not done yet! I haven’t forgotten you lovelies, I promise ❤️ hope I did your ask justice, Anon! Enjoy some smut and domestic fluff! 🥰🤠

It’s days like these that made you remember just how nice it was to live a domestic life back in the day. No worries of murderers at your doorstep, no worries about food supply running too low, radiation sickness, it was just perfect. You could bake, you could cook whatever you could get your hands on, but the best part? Was when Cooper walked through that door after a long day to see the beautiful smile that would light up your face when you would greet him. You’d come up to him, greet him with a “welcome home, honey!” Followed by a sweet, soft kiss as his hands would fall to your hips once he’d make it through the door of your home in the settlement. You wished it could be like old times, but this was the closest to that that you’d gotten and you were proud of it. You had a nice home that almost was completely patched of all holes, working appliances thanks to the electricity you got going, clean water, food and some furniture to really spruce things up.

It was the activities that transpired after dinner however that left you both the most excited for when we would be home. You smiled cheekily as you returned from the bathroom, sitting against the doorway clad in a nightgown that you had made for yourself from collected fabrics. It was soft and silky, yet slightly see through, adorned by lace cups and lace around the bottom as it flowed out yet also hugged your frame. One where it left very little to the imagination of what lay underneath. “What do you think?” You asked excitedly yet with a sensual calm tone, making Cooper look up at you with a grin. He whistled as his eyes roamed your figure, loving the way it hugged your curves just right and let your pert nipples poke through the lace. “What do I think?” He asked, standing up and walking towards you, meeting you half way as you sauntered into the room. “I think you look like a dream come true, sweet pea” he said, his hands coming to rest on your hips as yours looped around his neck with a smile. “You like it? I made it myself” You asked, knowing by the tent in his briefs and the smirk on his lips that that answer was obvious. “Oh I love it” he said genuinely, trailing his hands along the smooth, silky fabric as he looked down at you with a soft smile before pulling you in for a kiss. You hummed contentedly into it, removing his hat from his head and placing it on your own with a chuckle into the kiss. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were propositionin’ me, little lady” he said, making you grin up at him with that half lidded look of mischief and love in your eyes that he just couldn’t get enough of. “Maybe I am” you answered as your eyes flitted between his and his lips, your hands coming to rest against his chest softly, just enough touch to tease, yet enough to make him chase after you for more. “Then let’s take it for a spin, hmm?” He asked, making you giggle softly before a light gasp left your lips as he leaned down, planting sweet kisses to your neck, making your eyes flutter shut in bliss. Your arms held him tighter, pressing your chest against his as his teeth found all your weak spots, being sure to exploit them to work you up even further and hear those beautiful sounds he loves so much. “Cooper…” you sighed, your head falling back at the feeling of his rough hands running along your body, grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. Between kneading the pleasantly soft flesh of your ass, to fondling your breasts, he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Always look so pretty for me, sugar” he said, making you smile at his heartfelt compliment as he worked at the straps of your hand-tailored nightgown. “I always do my best for you” you replied, making him chuckle. “Don’t need to, you’re perfect as is” he responded, watching as it fell off of you with ease, the fabric pooling at your feet as he kissed you. He felt your hands smooth over his shirt as his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the gin and sweet cherries you had with dinner, making him groan. You always tasted so damn sweet, so addictive. Sugar-Bombs be damned, you were 100% of his daily value of sugar and he wouldn’t want it any other way. When he noticed you had nothing on underneath, he couldn’t help but grin. “Look at you, you’re just so damn gorgeous, what’d a bastard like me ever do to get so lucky?” he complimented, making you smile giddily at his continued compliments. “By being you, Mr. Cooper Howard. Wouldn’t want you any other way” you replied, making him give something between a groan and a chuckle as your lips came to his neck. “The bed looks awful empty, what’dya say we change that?” You asked, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed as he chuckled. “I like the way you think, sugar” he replied, watching as you sat down on the bed before him, looking to him expectantly. “C’mon don’t be shy now, tell me what you want” he said, but rather than speak your mind, your hands spoke for you, finding their way to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to where he’d take it off. He chuckled. “How ‘bout these? Want these off too, sweet pea?” He asked with a grin, knowing the answer before you even shook your head yes to confirm it. “Go on, take ‘em off for me. I know you like it more when I let you do it” he said softly, bringing your dainty small hands to his belt buckle, watching and helping you undo it and the button to his pants before taking a hold of his zipper with your teeth, and bringing it down. He groaned watching you toy with him, his fingers gliding through your hair, scratching your scalp before moving down to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “Eyes up here, darlin’” he teased, a grin on his lips as your pretty little doe eyes squinted with your smile, completely love drunk. He watched as you placed your fingers to his hips, helping pull down his pants and briefs as you looked him in the eyes the entire time. “Good girl, so good at it you ain’t even gotta look” he said, making you bite your lip and giggle as excitement was nearly tearing you apart, but you were being good. Patience was key, he loved drawing things out with you to where you were left absolutely crazy for each other.

“Sit your pretty self back some, let me have my dessert” he said, making a pleasant tingle flow through you straight to your throbbing clit. You did as you were told, scooting back a little and resting back on your hands as you spread your legs for him. “There ya go, nice ‘n wide for me, perfect. Look at you, so pretty for me. ‘f I had film in that old camera I’d snap a picture just to keep around of this sight” he said, making you grin up at him, the look in your eyes full of need as he got down on his knees at the edge of the bed. His lips trailed searing hot kisses up along the insides of your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most before placing the most feathered light kiss to your clit. Your hips bucked up involuntarily out of need and anticipation, a moan leaving you before you whined as he lavished the other thigh with kisses. He gave an amused chuckle. “Patience sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good for me. I promise it’ll pay off” he said, trailing back up to your soaking cunt where he’d placed soft, searing kisses to your clit, making your eyes flutter shut once more and your head drop back with a moan. He groaned at your taste, at the way one of your hands rested on his bald head to tell him how good he made you feel. He looked up at you as he let his tongue lull out, running it up your slit to your clit, flicking the tip of it against your sensitive nub. You keened at the sensation, your chest rising and falling drastically with the harsh inhales and exhales of your pants and moans, a small smile turned the corners of your lips as your eyes were shut. “Cooper…” you moaned, and it was music to his ruined ears. “Taste so good sugar, I swear it’s like you’re made of it” he said, placing a playful bite to the inside of one of your gummy thighs, earning a louder, surprised yet pleased moan in response. “Fuck…” you panted, making him chuckle as one of his fingers prodded your entrance, sliding in all the way to the knuckle as his tongue flicked against your clit in a rhythm that had you bucking your hips to meet his mouth. “Feels s’ good, please..” you begged, feeling him curl his finger inside of you to rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves. He was going to be the death of you one of these days, you swore it, he was too damn good at this. He watched as you looked down at him, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him eating you like a man starved. He gave a wink at you as your gazes met, smirking into you as he felt you get closer and closer. “That’s the spot, ain’t it sugar? That’s it, doin’ so good for me, I know you’re close. Let go for me honey, I’ve gotchya” he said, keeping that delicious pace with his tongue and fingers rubbing that spot inside, it didn’t take long for you to do just as he asked. With a moan you came on his fingers and his tongue, a low, feral groan leaving his throat and rumbling his chest as you did. “Good girl” he praised, making you whimper as he withdrew his fingers. his mouth and chin shining with your slick and his spit. He used his fingers to wipe it off, looking you in the eyes as he sucked on his fingers to remove it, groaning at the taste as he licked his lips clean.

He climbed up on the bed over top of you, leaning down to kiss you which you graciously accepted, unbothered by the taste of you on his lips and tongue. “Ready sweetheart?” He asked, making you shake your head yes at him, enjoying how desperate you were for him. He leaned back to rub his tip through your slit, collecting your slick and mingling with the pre-cum that beaded out from it. “Don’t tease, Coop..” you begged, making him chuckle. “I know, I know, just makin’ sure I don’t hurt ya” he said, before easing his way into your tight cunt. Didn’t matter how many times you two had sex, the stretch always burned at first but subsided into nothing but absolute bliss. “Doin’ so good for me, doin’ okay sweetheart?” He asked once he was fully sheathed inside you, waiting for you to tell him when to move and making sure you weren’t in pain. You looked up at him, that smile that he swore was the brightest thing in the universe eased all his worries. “I’m good, Coop. You can move whenever you’re ready” you said, making him chuckle as he leaned down to kiss you again, starting a soft, slower pace. He didn’t want to fuck you tonight, didn’t want to have sex with you, no. He wanted to make love to you, show you how much he loves you, show you how much he worships the ground you walk on. He wanted to give you everything you ever wanted and more just to see that pretty little smile in return, it’s all he ever asked for. You both moaned into your shared kiss, his one hand holding yours by your head, fingers intertwined with each other as the other rested on your hip. Your free hand roamed along his scarred back, your head tipping back as his thrusts were deep and calculated. You shut your eyes as his lips roamed your neck, once again abusing the sensitive skin to hear your voice sing for him. “Feel so good honey, like you were made for me” he said, making you hum at the thought, you certainly liked to think so. “Maybe I- hah~ was” you said between moans, making him chuckle dryly. “Maybe you were” he said, his lips attaching to one of your breasts, his tongue laving over one of your nipples as his other hand toyed with the other between his thumb and finger. You moaned as your head fell back against the pillows, hair fanning around your head like a halo. You were ethereal, he swore it. His perfect little angel to keep him out of too much trouble, but just naughty enough to keep him on his toes.

“I love you so much, darlin’. Love everything you do for me” he said, making you smile warmly. “I love you too Cooper, and everything you do to- I mean *for* me” you said playfully, making him laugh at your witty joke, feeling the way your gummy walls hugged him tight, fluttering around his cock as he kept a good steady pace. “Felt you tighten around me, go ‘head, let go for me baby. I’m here” he said, bringing his thumb down to rub tight circles against your clit, leaving your back arching off the mattress and a wide O shaping your lips. “Fuck…Cooper, cum with me, please…inside” you said, making him groan into your neck as he buried his face there. “Anything for you sweet pea” he replied, moaning into your shoulder as you held onto him for dear life, knowing your orgasm would hit you hard. And that it did. You saw white stars flash in your vision, as your body arched up from the mattress once more, pressing yourself to him as your walls clamped down around him, milking him of everything he had to offer you as he painted your walls white. You panted as you rode out your highs, his lips coming to yours for a sweet, gentle kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

As you both lay there, basking in the after glow, he couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes. “What’s that look for, hmm?” You asked teasingly, making him chuckle. “Just that I found the love of my life” he said, so casually as if it were common knowledge, making you give him that beaming smile he loved so much. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, rubbing the irradiated skin with your thumb as you closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his once more. “Good, because I’ve been lookin’ at mine for a few months now, wondering when you’d finally admit it” you said, making him laugh along with you as he pulled out, got you both cleaned up and hooked you up to some RadAway. “Maybe I’ll go down to the market and getchya that ring you were eyein’ last time we went” he said, making you look at him astonished. “Oh Cooper, you ain’t gotta do that! You know how many caps that’ll run you?” You asked, making him laugh. “Does it look like I care? Besides, if it’s that ridiculously expensive, no one ever said anythin’ about spendin’ the caps if the person sellin’ it ended up missin’ somehow” he said with a grin, making you grin as you kissed him, only he could make murder look so good.

#fallout x reader #fallout smut #fallout #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #asks

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navybrat817 · 3 months

Text

Wish, Hope, Dream

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You thought a night would be long enough to clear your head, but a bit of doubt lingers in your mind. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Slight angst, insecurities, longing, Natasha and Sharon being both good friends and devil's advocates, ongoing AU, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We Don't Talk Anymore A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! Sorry again in advance, lovelies. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought having answers would give you peace and allow you to rest before facing Bucky in the morning. Oh, how wrong you were. The tussle between your mind and heart didn’t stop, giving you one of the worst nights of sleep that you could remember in a long time. At least your pillow had dried from your tears.

And what was it that you were crying for? Relief that Bucky had feelings for you or were you mourning the lost time you could’ve had together had you two talked sooner? Perhaps both.

“Just get up,” you mumbled, willing yourself to get out of bed and lay out a random sundress to wear.

You wondered if anyone else was awake as you showered and brushed your teeth. Guilt crept in for skipping out on game night. Whatever transpired between you and Bucky, you couldn't let any of those feelings bleed into the rest of the time with your friends. You had to suck it up no matter the outcome.

Glancing down the hall as you left your room, your gaze lingered on Bucky’s door before your footsteps moved in that direction. You raised your hand to knock, wanting to check on him and make sure he got enough sleep. Part of you was tempted to sneak in and crawl into bed with him. Not even completely for sex, which you did not need to think about, but to have him hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay.

And to stop torturing yourself.

But you let your hand fall. You didn't want to assume that he wanted to see you first thing upon waking up. Assumptions and not communicating were what led you on this path to begin with. But you didn't want to smother him.

We can still figure it out together.

You crept downstairs, spotting a few empty bottles from the night before. The main floor was dark, minus the sunlight coming in through the windows and the kitchen. You stayed quiet when you saw Natasha and Sharon huddled together in a hushed conversation by the counter.

Which stopped the moment you walked into the room.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were talking about you. Not with the concerned look in Sharon’s eyes. Natasha, on the other hand, stared back at you in contemplation. At least it wasn't pity. You couldn't take that.

Did Bucky tell them? Or did they figure it out?

“Hey. Sorry for skipping game night,” you said, shifting on your feet as your gaze flickered between them. “Guess Steve and Sam aren't up yet?” You asked, purposely not mentioning Bucky.

“Don’t need to apologize,” Sharon said, concern continuing to show in her eyes. “I think they’re getting a run in.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. Looking between them again, you hoped things wouldn't be this awkward for the rest of the week. “Am I interrupting? I can just grab breakfast when you two are done.”

“Not interrupting. Go sit in the living room,” Natasha urged, nodding toward the direction of the couch. “Look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Smoothie?” You guessed, glancing around at the array of fruit ready for blending.

“Oh, yeah. Better than coffee,” the redhead teased as she threw a few pieces into the blender with some ice, bringing a small smile to your face as you went back to the living room. She was a good friend.

All of them were.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, sitting beside you on the couch.

You hesitated for a moment. You adored them and always would. But when it came to Bucky, you feared everyone would always side with him over you. Your chest tightened at the thought that if things went south you’d get left behind.

And hadn't you been left behind once before?

“Yes and no,” you answered, not wanting to expand completely yet as Natasha walked in and handed you a glass, your hands gripping it tight. They didn't need to deal with your issues, did they? “Did Bucky talk to everyone? I’m guessing he said something since you two are looking at me like I'm going to break.”

“We don’t think you’re going to break, but you look on edge,” Natasha answered, taking a seat when you didn't disagree. “The guys talked to him a little bit. He wouldn't give them all the details, but we know you two had a long overdue chat.”

“And the way you bolted upstairs last night and how he looked like a kicked puppy, we guessed it didn't go well,” Sharon added, raising an eyebrow. “I think Nat wanted to kick his ass.”

“He looked like he kicked his own ass. Would've just been rubbing salt in an open wound if I did anything else,” she said with no trace of humor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It may help,” Sharon said.

Maybe.

With a deep breath, you told the girls what had happened. How you and Bucky admitted that you had feelings for each other, which neither of them appeared surprised by in the least, but that you walked away from him once the talk was over. How you wished you would’ve given him a chance then and there, but didn’t. It helped and hurt to tell them about it.

You hung your head by the time you finished, your throat tight. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, swallowing a little. “This is supposed to be a fun trip and I’m messing it up with my issues.”

Sharon rubbed your back as you took a sip of your smoothie. “Hey. You’re our friend. You didn't do anything wrong or mess anything up, okay? We all love Bucky, but he's an idiot.”

“Huge idiot. Don't know what you see in him,” Natasha winked as you scoffed. You would always try to see the good in him, even when you were upset. “But I have to say, I’m glad you two finally told each other how you feel.”

“Took you long enough,” the blonde teased halfheartedly. “Kind of hoped you would've said something before we showed up.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. The gang ran late to the beach house on purpose. Of course, they did. The girls were perceptive. Always had been. “So, you knew.”

“Everyone knew, except for the two of you. What’s that trope?” Natasha questioned, her gaze directed at Sharon. “Idiots in love?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “You two are a walking romance novel, torturing yourselves for no good reason.”

“So, I'm an idiot then?” you said, narrowing your eyes when they both opened their mouths. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

You beat yourself up enough.

“Like I said, I’m glad you told him and now you finally have confirmation that he feels the same way,” Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. “What's the problem then?”

“What do you mean?” You replied.

“You said you took the night to think, but you don't exactly look like you're ready to move forward.”

“Because I don't know if I am,” you admitted.

You were overthinking the situation. You wanted to be with Bucky, but some of your wall was still up and you didn't know how to tear the rest of it down. Why was it so hard?

“Look, I'm not excusing what Bucky did because he's an idiot for going out with Dot instead of talking to you, but you know how he feels now,” Natasha began, diplomatic and level-headed like always. “Do you plan to keep him at a distance as a way to protect yourself? Or are you maybe punishing him just a little bit for seemingly abandoning you?”

Leave it to her to ask the tough questions.

“I'm not trying to punish him,” you promised. Both of you had punished yourselves enough. “I just don't want him to hurt me. I mean, I spent two years thinking he'd never want me, but he just didn't want to fight for me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.

“Or maybe he thought he never stood a chance and settled,” Sharon said. “Which, again, he’s an idiot. Most guys are.”

“So, what are you saying? That I should just pretend the last two years didn't happen?” You asked.

“No,” they said in sync.

You huffed. Why were girls both direct and cryptic? “Then what are you saying?”

Natasha grabbed a tissue and handed it over when a tear slid down your cheek. “We’re saying that we think Bucky is genuinely sorry for his stupid assumption and wants you to be his girl. Start slow if you have to and set the ground rules. If it means him apologizing every day with his words and actions, he will. And we know if you gave him your heart, it would be the last thing he'd break. Don’t you owe it to yourself to be happy?”

“Yeah. Maybe just start with a date,” Sharon said, tilting her head when you didn’t say anything. They were only trying to help, but why did it feel like pressure of sorts? Did they fully understand your apprehension? “You really don't see how he looks at you, do you?”

“Why would I when I convinced myself he'd never want me?” You whispered.

Bucky had convinced himself of the same thing. Maybe the two of you were idiots. How long would you continue to torture yourself? They had a point. Why not start with one date and see where it led?

What would be the harm in that, besides risking your whole heart?

“Well, we see how he looks at you,” Sharon said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. I have it.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Have what?” She asked. You wondered the same thing.

The front door opened before you got your answer, your heart skipping a beat when Bucky stopped in the doorway with a beach bag in hand. You realized after a moment that he was still in the same clothes he wore the day before, his eyes bloodshot as he looked your way. His hair was disheveled, too. He didn’t look like he slept well, if at all.

It broke your heart.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he croaked when you got to your feet, clearing his throat with a tired smile. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s just a sundress, Dreamboat,” you said, the compliment making your stomach flip before you took a step toward him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes lit up. “You’re still calling me that?”

“Of course, I am.” you smiled softly. He’d always be your Dreamboat. “Did you get any sleep?” You added, sighing when he confirmed your suspicion with a shake of his head. Had you been on his mind? “Why not?”

He gripped the bag handle like a lifeline. “I needed to find a way to say I’m sorry. Tried writing a letter and it wasn't enough.”

Your heart swelled, glancing back at the girls as they both gave you an encouraging smile. “Look. Before you do anything, why don’t you take a nap?” You suggested. “It’s still early and I’m not going anywhere.”

“A nap sounds like a good idea before volleyball,” Natasha said, leveling Bucky with a look. “In fact, why don’t you get him to bed?”

“Nat,” you hissed. Of course, she’d suggest you take him upstairs.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up with you two in a bit,” Sharon said.

The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes was irresistible. “Come on,” you said, taking his arm once he kicked his shoes off. You felt his gaze on you as you took him up the stairs. It amazed you that he didn’t trip over his own feet since he kept his eyes on you. “I can tell you’re staring at me.”

“I half expected you to be gone this morning,” he said, opening his door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think I’d bolt after the conversation we had?” You asked. Did he think little of you now?

He chuckled under his breath. “I said half expected,” he teased.

Instead of releasing your arm, he pulled you into his room before you could protest. It wasn’t a good idea to be there, yet there you were. Not fighting it as he pulled you toward the bed.

His large, inviting bed.

“So, what’s in the bag?” You asked curiously to distract yourself as he set it down and stretched out on the bed, pulling you down with him. He gave you plenty of room so you wouldn’t have to cuddle close. He also left the door cracked open.

He was giving you an out.

“I can’t show you yet because I have to put it together,” he yawned, giving you an apologetic smile. “It’ll spoil the surprise otherwise.”

A giddy smile appeared on your face. He was actually going to make you something. “I’ll be patient,” you said, letting him keep your hand in his.

“Haven’t we been patient long enough?” He asked, his hair falling in his eyes as he gazed at you. Even exhausted, he was breathtaking. “I know you needed the night to think it over.”

The smile fell from your face, silence stretching in the room before you squeezed his hand. “Bucky, you need to get some sleep.”

He couldn’t mask the dejected look on his face. It wasn’t an outright rejection, but you hadn’t exactly declared that you should move forward. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice thick. “All I could see were the tears in your eyes and knowing I caused them.”

“It’s okay,” you told him. It was an assurance for yourself, too. You were okay and he hadn't tried to hurt you.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, the familiar determination back in his eyes. “And I don’t want to sleep. I want to make you smile. I want to win you a stuffed animal at the carnival.”

“You promised me that at dinner yesterday,” you teased.

“I want to take you dancing,” he added, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You could easily picture him smiling as he twirled you around and moved to the beat. Maybe that could be your first actual date. “As long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“I want to take you to bed,” he whispered,

You inhaled, your heart pounding at the implication. “Bucky…”

“I want to hear about your day. The little things, even the details that you think are mundane,” he said, scooting a bit closer. “I want to be the one you talk to and depend on again.”

Each declaration worked its way into your heart. Why couldn’t you just take the leap of faith? “We can’t just-”

“I want you to be my girl,” he said, his face inches from yours. “I want to give you everything.”

Your heart screamed at you to comfort him, kiss him, to tell him the same. “Bucky, you’re not giving me anything until you get some sleep,” you whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. He needed rest. “Please, for me?”

“I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I can't lose you again.”

You didn't want to lose him either. “You won't lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I said we’d figure this out together and I meant that,” you promised, needing to give him hope. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He finally shut them as he breathed out, “Butterfly, I lo…”

You gasped as Bucky trailed off, smiling to yourself as your eyes misted over. You weren’t going to run. Not from him. Not when you owed it to yourself to be happy.

You told yourself that as his phone rang.

Even as Dot’s name showed on the screen.

It's fine, lovelies! 😭 Things will look up. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

The One where Soap finds Himself in an ✨ Awkward ✨Situation. [ Ghost x Reader ]

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Soap Being Confused, Occasional Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except for ‘You’.

Summary: Hiding out at your house, the 141 are settling in for the evening. Soap ends up hearing something he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t have on his way to the bathroom. But why can’t he seem to stop listening ?

“Gah! Fuck–”

The voice splintering through the door made Soap jump – near caused him to soil his favourite pair of jeans as it rumbled through the wood, practically taking it off its hinges with how the nails shuddered in their slots. The voice was baritone, deep. Grizzled. A carnality slumbered in its tone, rearing its waking head.

Ghost.

“Shh, Simon ! You’re going to get us caught !”

Yours followed soon after, a reprimand Johnny would never dream of dishing to the most lethal man he’s ever known. And yet here you were, doing God-knows-what, speaking to him as if you were in control.

When all went quiet again, just for a moment, Soap stopped and wondered if it had all been a hallucination. One second, then two. A low moan slipped beneath the door. Johnny jumped.

He was just going to walk away. Truly, he was ! He – and the rest of the 141 – saw how much chemistry – history – you and Ghost shared. Although, he’d just never imagined you’d be sharing it with the rest of the house, too.

Well, if Simon’s volume was anything to go by.

Johnny’s eyes drifted from the end of the hallway – where the beloved bathroom was – to the door beside him. He bit his lip, heart beating, still recovering from the fright. His curiosity was far from piqued – it shot through the bloody roof and left an impromptu skylight in its wake. And as imaginary sunlight filtered in through the hole, Johnny begged that divine intervention would tear him away from the scene unfolding beside him so he wouldn’t have to.

“God, don’t stop,” came Simon’s pleading tone, any harshness that was custom to it having melted away. Soap, against all better judgement and higher power, inched closer to the door. He cast a glance over his shoulder, once, twice. Nobody lurked behind. His ear was almost pressed to the wood. He could hear Simon panting, hear you humming as you did…something.

“I won’t – not until you’re finished.” There was little to be heard in the way of shame in your voice, especially in your gentle whisper: “I promise.” Soap swallowed thickly, then, blinking, began rubbing his ears. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He just couldn’t !

Only, when he had thoroughly cleared the imaginary poison from his ears, the issue remained.

“Shit–! That’s it, right there–”

“God, you’re so stiff, Simon. What have you been doing while you were away ?” There was almost a purr to your voice. Ghost only let out a moan as his response, muffled by what Johnny could only guess were pillows.

Why am I still here?! he all but screamed, remembering that he was no Pinocchio, trapped on this stage, bound by strings. He could have been a free man if he so wished. And trust, he did. So why was it that, when he went to walk away, to scour his ears with bleach, to finally embark upon his uninterrupted journey to the bathroom, that he found himself glued in place ?

Perhaps it was the primal instinct to know all that there is to know, to discern danger wherever it lay. Or, perhaps, he was so eneamoured with the idea of whatever could be happening on the other side of this door – Ghost being human for a change – that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to see him so…vulnerable.

That sounded about right.

“(Y/N),” Ghost’s voice husked, no longer dampened, restricted, by an unknown force. He groaned, long and unfiltered. The way he spoke your name was almost in the tone of love, its softest and most carnal form, as if tasting the gradient of your syllables, vowels and consonants upon his tongue. He all but growled. You gasped.

“(Y/N), you’re so close–”

“You want it there, Simon ?” You didn’t miss a beat. Soap’s breath caught in his throat. He looked over his shoulder to the imaginary camera filming his ordeal.

“Yes, yes, God – yes–”

“Doing so well for me, Si,” you said, soft and encouraging. Ghost’s breathing was at its heaviest now, heaving breaths as if they were bricks, building a tower from which he may never come down. A high he will never beat.

“We’re almost there,” you told him, to which he only let out a thick, strangled noise, bulging beneath invisible chains as he tried to conceal it. His moans only grew longer and more frequent, his jaw presumably dropping open to let them pass when he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Soap began to wring his hands, thankful for the lack of a keyhole in the door so to spare him the intrusive desire to spy on the situation visually, too. Trapped in his own daze, his hurried, sweating, anxious contemplation was torn open by a sound so sharp and brilliant he never wanted to hear it again.

Ghost moaned.

Straight-up howled, roared, as he came to an end.

Soap’s soul clung to his body as the sheer calamity Ghost’s booming voice brought with it shook the very ground he stood on. Johnny’s hands flew to his racing heart, trying to catch it as it jumped up his throat.

Simon’s voice tapered, muffled after most likely burying his face into a pillow. With every exhale, a sliver of euphoria would follow, eventually baying out like the tide, his breathing returning to a shallow rhythm. And all the while, you paid him words of comfort.

“Well done,” you said, the smile in your voice evident. “Took it so well, Simon,” Your voice was feather-light, belied the illicit nature of all Soap had heard you do.

Though, even in this dazed, mortified state, he couldn’t fathom how you sounded so…normal. As if you’d exerted no energy.

Perhaps (Y/N)’s just…strong…? Johnny’s reasoning left much to be desired, that much he knew. Even Ghost was winded, and he was by far the fittest of the 141.

In amongst his rampant thoughts, the idea to flee the scene came too late as, upon hearing you dismount Ghost, your footsteps fast approaching the door, Johnny’s eyes widened, the state he’d be in if either you or Ghost found him unintentionally spying flashing before his eyes as his life no doubt would later.

He couldn’t scramble away in time. He ran on the spot, a cartoon, his impending doom facing him head-on as you swung the door open. His eyes all but watered as he caught sight of you wiping your hands on a towel. You smiled.

“Oh, hey, Jo-Jo !” You said, his nickname rolling off your tongue as if Simon’s hadn’t been just minutes ago. You gave him a brief nod before walking past him, a spectre. A harbinger of death. Johnny stood, body reeling, mind freezing, as nothing became clearer to him except your blase manner. He released a short, puffed breath.

He saw the inside of your bedroom, your bed just out of sight, hidden by the door.

Breath quivering, Body shaking, Soap knew this was his chance.

His last chance.

He turned. Didn’t even make the floorboards creak as he did so.

“Fuck’re you lookin’ at, Johnny ?”

Ghost’s voice rolled across Soap’s mind like thunder clouds, despite the laxity of it, the slowness. He froze, ice rain slipping down the back of his shirt and making him stand up straight. Rigid.

“Uh…I–” He winced, his voice cracking, showing the uncertainty that lay below his usually obsidian tone.

“N-Nothing, Sir !”

Sir ? We’re not at base now, you daft fool–

“Somethin’s obviously botherin’ you,” came Ghost again. He let out a breath. “So come on.” His voice was free from the cotton-mouth effect of the pillows.

“Say it.”

Johnny swallowed, his voice prickling either with dehydration, tears, or an unsolvable mixture of both. When he said nothing – did nothing – Ghost sighed.

“Come on, Johnny,” he said, stark as ever. “Haven’t got all day.”

“W…Well–”

“And come out from ‘round that door. S’impolite not to face the person you’re talking to.”

Johnny’s heart stopped.

No, he couldn’t have heard him properly.

“Are…you…sure…?”

Better safe than sorry.

“What’d’you– course I’m bloody sure. Now stop messin’ about and get in ‘ere.”

Taking a deep breath, and a leap of faith, Johnny rounded the door, the corner. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying.

He heard Simon sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – at least open you eyes, you daft prick.”

Begrudgingly, hesitantly, Soap cracked one eye open, then the other.

His brain almost couldn’t fathom the dissonance between all that was there, all that wasn’t, and all that he’d expected there to be.

Simon was chest-down on your bed, arms surrounding a bundle of pillows, holding them as if they were collected sticks, his head resting atop one. He watched Johnny from the corner of his half-lidded eye. He was dressed from the waist down, and his back, wet with what Soap had initially come to the horrifying conclusion was sweat, was actually bronzed with what permeated the air: a soothing oil.

Lavender.

Soap’s gaze jumped from point to point, trying to find something – anything – of the reality that had played out behind the door.

“Well ?” Ghost said. “I’m listening.”

Johnny, for the last time, swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck. His frying nerves cooled, though electricity still ran through them.

“I thought–” he gave the room another once-over.

“I thought you and… (Y/N)... were…”

Simon huffed.

“Were…?”

Johnny let out a breath, an almost-laugh. He gave a feeble smile.

“Nothin’ Sir–”

“No, go on,” Ghost prodded, getting up onto his elbows and turning over, now facing Johnny. “I’m curious now.”

John bit his lip, trying to quell the incessant itch there. He could taste the sweat collecting on his top lip.

“I just thought that…” He couldn’t look SImon in the eyes, his gaze bouncing around the room. He could feel Simon’s eyes narrowing, his patience waning.

He sighed. The jig was up.

“I…thought– that you and (Y/N) were…” He looked to Ghost, who gave no indication of understanding what Johnny was getting at, his disposition monotone as ever. Even without the mask, he was no less imposing.

Johnny made a gesture with his fists, bumping them together.

Simon’s eyes widened by a fraction of a fraction.

He said nothing. Soap’s fight-or-flight instinct re-activated. He glanced at the door. The hallway. His narrow chance of escape.

“How–” Ghost’s voice drew Johnny back to the land of the living.

“How loud were we ?”

Johnny grimaced.

“Not really (Y/N), Sir,” he said. “Just…” his hand grew into the shape of what he was trying to say. “You.”

Upon seeing Simon’s eyes widen even more, Johnny’s gaze dropped. And found another, damning detail.

Quick, use your natural humour and charm !

“Though,” he smiled, crooked, sided and small. A start. “I can see something’s made you somewhat excited,”

Simon’s eyebrow raised, and following Soap’s gaze, his shoulders went rigid.

Oh no.

A tent had been pitched in his sweatpants, plain as day for all who looked to see. Johnny’s top set of teeth grappled with his bottom lip, trying to purse his lips shut.

A snort sneaked past, and he slapped a hand over his mouth immediately, as if trying to scoop it back in.

Ghost’s gaze hardened. His eyes concrete.

“Tell (Y/N), you die tonight.”

Soap, smiling widely, simply turned in the beginnings of his departure.

“Course, Lieutenant,” he said. “Aaanything you say.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 ghost #soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap mw2

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disneyprincemuke · 3 months

Text

it was only a kiss * fem!driver

it's just a kiss. surely, it isn't that big of a deal, right?

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: LOL i'll write her race win and post it this week i swear!!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

logan does not know when he started to go against his better judgment. it could have been the shots they were taking with dalton earlier in the evening, or perhaps it was when they locked themselves away in her room to eat the birthday pancakes she had gotten him.

maybe it’s a thing that just consumed him at the moment — the fireworks as the new year came and greeted them was an atmosphere he simply could not resist her in.

because he kissed her– no, he’s kissing her. right now. against all his rationalisation, without warning, without permission. without even thinking about it.

the last thing he remembers is her turning to him with a wide smile wishing him a happy new year and suddenly he was hunched over with their lips locked. everything seems to go slowly now like he was trying to savour the moment and remember the way she tastes for the rest of his life.

he didn’t know how long it took her back to start kissing him back, but she did, eventually. she put her hands on either side of his face and everything else just fell away. logan had never been the type to get so lost in a kiss before. his heart is skipping beats as he tries her damnest to pull her closer to him, as if their bodies are not already pressed up on one another.

suddenly all the things he’s spent the past 3 years worrying about didn’t matter. not one thought about how their friendship is too great to risk it for pops up currently, and definitely nothing about the neverending excuses about their jobs and their places in their lives now.

and it’s nothing less for her. when he bent down and crashed his lips onto hers, suddenly they were the only 2 people in the house. she barely heard the fireworks crack the sky apart or the way dalton looked up from the backyard to greet them, only to raise his eyebrows and giggle to himself as he went away to get more drinks.

nothing matters. just the fact that she and logan are finally kissing. after 9 years of friendship and 3 long years pining over him, this is their first kiss and the first time she’s getting to know his mouth.

it’s devastating — they should have been kissing the moment they realised they had feelings for one another, she thinks. her lips feel so at home against his like it was a match made in heaven.

it just feels so right.

logan doesn’t want to be the one to pull away. he’s been wanting to do this ever since he saw her snuggled in his bed 3 years ago and realised that he no longer saw her as a best friend. and neither does she; the feel of his lips against hers is not one that she wants to forget.

yet, the world is cruel that way.

they pull away at the same time, stumbling back with swollen lips and heaving chests. their eyes are wide, and she blinks rapidly as if she still can’t believe what had just happened.

how long were they kissing? he glances over the balcony and notices that the crowd once gathered for the fireworks has now dispersed into different areas of the backyard.

“i’m sorry,” logan says immediately, sensing the hesitation coming from her. he shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the intensity of the moment they’d just shared. “oh, god. i’m so sorry.”

“i,” she trails off, looking down at her hands. she’s yearned to have this feeling for years; she’s afraid that one sudden move might reveal that it’s just another dream and she’d wake up by herself in her bed. she looks up again with a soft sigh. “logan.”

she says his name and he feels all his defenses crumbling down in an instant. his name only ever sounds good when it rolls off her tongue.

“i don’t know what came over me,” logan starts to explain, still shaking his head. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t–“

she shakes her head and takes a step forward, hands in the air in an attempt to calm him down. “logan. relax.” she takes another step forward with caution and grins very slightly as she takes his hand into hers. “do you wanna go get a drink first?”

truthfully, logan wants to kind of kiss her again. he’d waited this long, held himself back from the urge to want his best friend wholeheartedly only for him to realise that kissing her was just as dreamy as he imagined it would be.

he looks up from the ground when she squeezes his hand. she doesn’t say anything else, but there is something about the way she smiles up at him that compels his brain to quiet down for a minute. he nods and lets her pull him towards the door, he’s assuming to make an appearance at the party downstairs.

but oh, god, someone needs to tell him how to resist the urge to do the same thing again.

so they don’t talk about the kiss all night. instead of actually talking about it, they decided to join the party downstairs and drown themselves in alcohol until the sun rose. you know, doing the one thing they’re actually not foreign to.

even worse when she briefly remembered the way they’ve — at one point or another — said ‘i love you’ to one another while drunk off their minds at least once in the past 3 years.

and instead of talking about it after the party, stumbling back into her guest bedroom, they climbed under the covers and slept instead. next to one another. which wouldn’t be an issue since they’ve slept in the same bed multiple times, but this time was different.

it’s different because they’re tangled in one another with the blankets strewn over their bodies.

all logan can think of after he opens his eyes is how he’s finally where he's wanted to be after years of dancing around the thought of them. he looks down and is immediately enamoured by the way her arm is slung over his body, face nuzzled into the side of his body as her chest rises and falls steadily.

it feels surreal to finally get the girl he wants for a change. but he knows — and he knows that she knows — the reason they kept dancing around the possibility of them, and it’s still gnawing at him annoyingly from the back of his head. he’s tried to ignore it all night but it’s there.

all night, looking across the lawn as she interacted with his family, he found himself wishing things were different.

she moves very slightly, nuzzling her face further into him and stretches an arm out. for a moment, his heart drops at the thought that she would wake up. because that means that this would all be over and all rationalisation would hit her as well once more.

he doesn’t know though that she’d been awake for the better part of the past 15 minutes, frozen in her spot next to him, refusing to let it end. you never know for sure that you’re made for somebody until you fit perfectly along the crevices of their body every single time.

sure, they’ve hugged and shared beds before, but never this way. it’s an eye-opening experience to spend the night with someone innocently and suddenly realise that soulmates may actually exist in one form or another. it’s just upsetting that sometimes they come in the form of a best friend you’ve known for half your life, making it all the more damaging to keep thinking of them as somebody more.

but staying in this position any longer might cause logan to explode. she lifts her head slightly when she felt him rubbing her arm gently, met by a soft smile and she knew that the events of the night before would only bode disaster than anything else.

“you can’t keep avoiding me all day,” a voice follows him down the hall of the second floor of his home, “we’re in the same house for an entire week.”

logan doesn’t respond, just keeps walking further down the hall and down the stairs as if he hadn’t heard her pleas for the last minute.

they didn’t speak of anything either when they got out of bed. only excused themselves to freshen up for breakfast with his family before avoiding one another’s eyes and darting to different parts of the room: her to the toilet and him back to his bedroom.

“hey, what is your problem!” she shrieks. her footsteps echo down the stairs, grabbing logan’s shoulder to turn him around to face her. “you can’t just kiss me and then not say anything! what the fuck, logan!”

he looks up at her, standing two steps above him, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. he can’t possibly be the only one who can clearly see the implications of what transpired, right? “i don’t know what to say to you.”

she throws your head back slightly, blinking at him as she tries raking her brain for a response. what– what the fuck does that even mean? “what?”

logan huffs, lips pursed. “i want you,” he lays it down for her, shocked at the way that it had come out. frustration laces his every word as he speaks, simply because it’s… it’s frustrating to be this close to the person you want but can’t have. “it is as simple and as complicated as that. you know that, come on!”

“it doesn’t have to be.” he tilts his head, shaking his head before he turns around and walks the stairs again. she throws her arms into the air in frustration as she chases him again. “mate!”

“i told you,” logan huffs, turning around at the bottom of the stairs, “i’m sorry that i kissed you. i don’t know what came over me — i did it without thinking. i’ve wanted to kiss you for years, so i’m sorry i couldn’t hold myself back.”

“why are you apologising? did you hit your head and forget that i kissed you back?” she meets him at the bottom step and puts her hands on her hips. she closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, letting it out shakily as she says his name softly.

he shakes his head. “don’t even do that. that’s not fair.”

“don’t do what?”

“don’t do that shakey breath and then say my name whenever you don’t get what you want! this is different — this is not something as superficial as you not getting ice cream when you ask for it!” logan rambles, rolling his eyes. “it’s not the same!”

“then how do you suppose we should deal with this then?” she leans back on the railing of the stairs and raises an eyebrow. “you started the whole mess, i believe you should have an answer.”

“nothing can change. in fact, nothing’s gonna change,” he sighs, suddenly hoping that he can take his words back when she melts in her position and her frown grows. “not for me and you. you already know this, please, don’t be like that.”

she glares up at him, mirroring the frustration he’d been feeling all morning. simply for the fact that she knows logan is right. there are many reasons they pushed their feelings back but being in f1 together is the most prominent one.

“i know.” her voice barely comes out in a whisper, clenching her jaw as she looks away. it shouldn’t have to be this complicated, right?

love shouldn’t be this complicated.

“i just wish it was easier than this,” she admits, dropping her head as tears rush into her eyes. “i thought because we k–“

“me too.” he takes several steps forward, wrapping his arms around her. “but this is our reality. you didn’t work this hard to get where you are just for you to be reduced to the person you’re dating. we’ve had this conversation before 2 years ago.”

she freezes. as far as she’s concerned, he was blackout drunk that night they had the conversation. “you remember that?”

he hums. “‘course, i do.” he rests his chin on her head and starts to rub circles on her back. “i’m sorry it has to be this complicated.”

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star-eyed-angels · 4 months

Text

Secrets and Sleep

bang chan x gn reader

fluff 1.6k

where you spill your heart out to your sleeping boyfriend.

AN: A small thing I started when I was sad that morphed into something more hope you like it.

______

It’s nearly 2 a.m. as you lay in bed, your boyfriend at your side. With Chan’s habit of working through the night in the studio, it’s rare you have him in bed with you before the sun is up. But tonight he’d come home earlier, wanting to spend a little more time with you to ease his stress. Tonight that meant cuddling in bed after a takeout dinner.

Now you found yourself wide awake with a sleeping Chan next to you. His body is turned towards you as he sleeps on his side, pillow smushed against the side of his face.

You brush the curly hair delicately out of his face, smiling softly when he shifts closer to you. You’ve always thought he looked so beautiful while he slept. Looking nothing but relaxed. Exuding pure warmth and comfort when he sleeps. You tuck your hands back under your cheek resting on them as you watch Chans even breathing. Your eyes trail over his features slowly, a small smile on your face as you watch him. The room is quiet as you feel your heart squeeze with the need to speak.

“So many nights I used to wish for someone. Nights I dreamed of finding love, the right love,” your voice is soft as you speak into the open room, being careful to not wake Chan from his sleep. “And then the universe sent me you… perfectly wrapped in your endless black hoodies and topped with your messy little curls,” you gently trace a finger around one of his curls.

“I remember the first time I met you at the cafe. You hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes before I was spilling half my order into your lap,” you cover your face in embarrassment. A laugh escapes you as you recall the memory. “God, I was absolutely mortified. And then you were the one apologizing to me.”

“To be honest, I never thought someone could look like you and still be that nice. Hot and kind Mr. Bahng,” you snort out quietly. You remember his smile as he waved off your apologies. Even as the lingering bits of coffee dripped onto his lap. You think you hadn’t

“But there you were. Being so kind even after I ruined your clothes. And then you just stuck, like me embarrassing myself in front of you just made us friends. You were so willing to bring me into your circle and into your life.” You pause, staring off into the room around you.

The room is still quiet as you glance at the photos and decorations littered around the space. Memories of before and after your relationship started, pieces of furniture you’d bickered over before laughing at how much you sounded like an old married couple. Even the bed you sleep on holds the memory of putting it together and suffering with Chan as he struggled to interpret the instructions. You can't help but feel sentimental in your room, your home. Thinking about how it all started with meeting Chan.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am to have you. Ever since we met, you’ve always been so kind and willing to help. Even without knowing you, I could see that. And when we became friends that didn’t change, you offered me someone to lean on and the opportunity to make my own little circle with your members. In the short time after we met you added so much joy to my life and I genuinely couldn't believe it.”

You turn back to look at Chan, who is still asleep, his slow breaths the only sound in the room.

“And then you asked me out and I had never been so nervous in my life.” The memory of when he asked you out warms your heart. You don’t think you’d ever seen him that nervous as he avoided eye contact with you. His ears and cheeks pink as he had stumbled over his words. To be fair you weren’t doing any better, with your barely controlled giggles and warm face. You’d thanked whatever in the universe kept you standing on your feet as you listened to his confession.

“I was scared, you know, to fall in love again. Even though I wanted it, I didn’t think it was for me…” You hesitate, but decide to continue, “Everyone before, they didn't- They didn’t make me feel like I was worth the effort… I felt like a chore really…

“I was so convinced that I was unlovable. Each and every heartbreak just made me feel I wasn’t worth the effort.You place your hand on his cheek, softly rubbing your thumb against it.

Your voice is soft as you continue, ”But you’ve never made me feel like I was invisible. Like I was a cutout in this relationship. When it comes to you, you’ve shown me what it really means to be in love.”

“The ways you love me, you’re so attentive, so caring, so.. You. I’ve never felt a love like this. I wish there was a greater word to use than love, because you do more than love me. It’s like you give me the world in every little thing you do for me.” You laugh, a hint of embarrassment making you warm even though Chan is sleeping quietly next to you.

“We’ve been together for so long, yet you’re still here giving me butterflies like a schoolgirl crush. I know it's a little silly, but you just make me feel like I’m something special”. You pause, stopping the words on the tip of your tongue.

Even after all this time, the hesitation from past relationships makes you nervous. But one look at Chan makes your worries fall away. He’s been your safe place for almost as long as you’ve known him. Even with this. Even if the thought of saying it out loud scares you, you know Chan would never judge you. You smile as you look at him, taking a calming breath. Even in his sleep it still feels like he’s helping you to calm your nerves.

“You make me feel like I’m worth a forever,” Your confession comes out in a shaky whisper. You pause, even in the still room it feels like the world may suddenly come crashing down at your confession. But nothing changes. The room is still quiet. Chan still sleeps peacefully next to you. Your heart is still slightly beating out of your body. But a weight on your chest has slightly been lifted.

“I know that being in a relationship isn’t easy. But even through all the ups and downs, I’ve never felt unloved by you. Even the hard days don't feel as hard.

“I know at the beginning, loving me was hard. A lot of the time I let my fear of us get in the way… but you were always patient. You never pushed me, never made me do something I didn’t want to. It’s like you know me better than I know myself most days.

“And I just… I just really hope you know how much I love you. How I would bring heaven down for you if I could. Catch all the stars in the sky for you. I want to give you the world like you do for me. And I kinda really want to spend the rest of my life with you.

You pause smiling softly at him. You lean forward, gently brushing your lips across his forehead. “I don’t know if you feel the same, but I really hope you do,” you mumble softly.

You place a gentle kiss against his skin, smiling as you lean back.

“Sweet dreams my love,” you say softly, bringing your hand back down to your side. You watch Chan’s steady breathing, feeling your eyes get heavier with the need to sleep. The last thing you remember is moving closer to Chan, before you’re fast asleep next to him.

_______

Chan has no secrets. He’s always been open with you. Even with the occasional surprise he still manages to give it away.

‘I did get you an anniversary gift. But I won’t tell you what it is.’

‘I’m planning your birthday party, what kind of cake do you want?’

Most people would be put off by this. Something about needing surprises to keep a relationship going. But you love Chan's openness. You love how he wants everything to go perfect, paying attention to every little detail.. It makes you feel special and you love it. Other than that, Chan has no secrets.

That is until tonight.

Tonight as he lays with his eyes closed next to you. He shifts closer to you sleepily as he feels your fingers near his hair. He’s about to open his eyes to look at you when you speak. His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest as you open your heart out to him. He thought that he couldn’t fall even more in love with you, but here you are stealing his heart once again.He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more in love with you than this moment.

He fights the urge to jump up and trap you in his arms, to pepper every inch of your skin in kisses and tell you how much he loves you. He knows this is a delicate moment. One he’ll treasure for the rest of his life.

So after tonight Chan has two secrets.

The first being that he’s not actually asleep next to you and can hear every word you’re saying. He figures he’ll tell you eventually. When the moment is right.

Which brings him to his second secret.

When he’s gonna give you the ring he plans to buy you first thing in the morning. His commitment to never stop showing you what you mean to him. A promise to a forever that you deserve.

A forever that he really wants to spend with you too.

#stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #bangchan x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #writing #��🏼

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