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vultbae · 5 months ago

Text

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses.

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it. And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile.

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan.

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend.

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought.

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent.

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle.

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not.

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe.

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no.

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me.

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss.

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with.

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much.

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy.

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes.

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something.

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard.

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #fanfic #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #challengers x reader #tashi duncan x reader #x reader #female reader #fem reader #x female reader #art donaldson smut #challengers smut

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the-californicationist · 10 months ago

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Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

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co-sharkie · 3 months ago

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I have so many ideas for Scott he's so sexy and there aren't enough stories for him. So if it's ok I'll leave a couple so sorry in advance that it's so long

Idea 1: Scott and Reader are newly married and just got back from their honeymoon. It's the beginning of the storm season and it's a big one. They are in the newlywed gotta be touching kissing anything with PDA. At first the crew thinks it cute but soon get tired of it and the reader over hears some of them say they don't know how Scott puts up with it and probably only does to shut the reader up and one of them saw him rolls his eyes at one point and he isn't the same since the reader and wishes the reader would go chase with Tyler and his crew so they could get work does. The reader gets upset and lays off the PDA so she doesn't upset Scott. Scott is so confused and hurt bc he loves and lives for the pda with his wife so he confronts her and she breaks down and tells him what she heard he comforts her tells her he loves the pda and loves she changed him then goes and loses it on his crew and one says something horrible about the reader and she shouldn't be there and he really loses it and punches the guy and javi and the reader have to pull him off. *you can end it how you want*

Idea 2: Scott and reader are together how is up to you and the reader and Kate are best friends and have known each other since elementary school. One night after a chase reader and Kate decide to have a girls night since it's been forever. They go to to a bar and get super drunk and having the time of their lives dancing doing shots whole 9 yards of a good girls night. Well Javi happens to walk in the same bar and sees how drunk the are so he calls Scott and Tyler laughing telling them to come get their women before they get in trouble and tells them how drunk they are. The boys show up get the girls and the while way back to the hotel the girls are laughing and the reader keeps kissing Scott telling him she loves him and how sexy he is and Scott thinks she's just so cute but then starts telling Tyler and Kate how amazing he is in bed and he has tricks... Scott is embarrassed and keeps apologizing but Tyler just laughs and tells him not to worry bout it. Finally at the hotel Scott gets her in the room cleaned up changed and in bed. The next morning she wakes up with the worst hangover and Scott laughs and tells her about the night before and she is mortified and crys and keeps saying hes sorry so Scott comforts her and says its ok. *again end it how you like*

Pookie don’t ever apologize for sending a long request, and you can always give requests. Scott is too hot to not have fanfics let’s be real. I wrote up idea 1 and idea 2 will be in the drafts soon <3

His and Her’s

Scott (Twisters) x F! Reader

Summary: Some choice words from coworkers make you think your husband hates you. It’s not until a fight breaks out that you realize he’d do anything for you.

Words: ~3000

Warnings: doesn’t really follow the plot of the movie, big angst (self-doubt & crying), shit ass men, mentions of sex, Scott is HOT AF

Javi started up an innovative company with Scott for tornado research. Scott was an engineer who helped Javi build some prototypes for their company, Storm Par. He was over at you and Javi’s rented house in Miami nearly everyday, working in that garage testing and building those radars they hoped to use soon.

You worked long hours as a nurse while finishing your masters degree in Meteorology so neither of the boys saw you much as you would sleep during a lot of the day while they worked on their company. But every time you’d have a day off you would make them meals and hang out while they worked. It caused Scott to have a bit of a crush and Javi caught on instantly.

Javi would tease Scott whenever you weren’t home. “Y’know, she’s single.” He’d repeat.

“I’m not asking your best friend out.” Scott would sound peeved but Javi knew he wasn’t turning around because he was upset but because he didn’t want Javi seeing his face go red.

“I just gave you my seal of approval! Go for it!”

Scott finally took Javi’s approval one day. Javi ran to the store to pick up a few materials while Scott stayed back to keep working on the prototypes. You brought some lunch out to the garage for the boys and that’s when Scott had asked you out.

He was nervous and could barely get the words out. He rarely talked to you and here he was just asking you out on a date on a random Tuesday afternoon. You said yes, obviously. When Javi returned he caught you and Scott giving each other little smiles and glances. Scott didn’t hear the end of it.

Now here you were, in Oklahoma with your best friend and husband. Scott and Javi made the plan to test out the prototypes for the first official time in Oklahoma after your honeymoon in Iceland.

Ever since that fateful day in the garage, you and Scott never left each other’s side. When there was Scott there was you, and vice versa. Javi had never seen Scott more happy than he is with you. And neither of you were exactly shy with the PDA. Javi swore he caught you two making out at one of the pit stops on the way to Oklahoma.

Holding hands or giving quick kisses in public never bothered you two, nor did it bother Javi. However, it seems to be bothering the small team the two had put together for the trip. Javi kept catching some of the boys rolling their eyes or groaning anytime you walked into the room, since that meant Scott’s eyes were glued to you. Scott never seemed to notice as he was so focused on his wife and he really couldn’t care less if they didn’t like it anyway.

You had left your job as a nurse after getting your masters degree so you could help Javi and Scott with their work. You specialized in reading the radars and predicting the storms. You always rode with Scott, so thankfully nobody had to see what happened in that truck during business hours.

—

Your team stopped at a gas station to fuel the trucks and grab some snacks. You had already informed Scott and Javi of a potential storm to chase, which they were now relaying the information their small team while you grabbed a few drinks.

With your arms full of drinks requested by the crew, you interrupted their short meeting to pass them out. Scott was the last person you gave a drink to, and when you did you got up on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Scott smiled and thanked you for the drink.

Unbeknownst to you two, the crew rolled their eyes and huffed at the display. “C’mon guys, be nice.” Javi scolded them.

“Do they always have to do that though?” One of the boys, Anthony, complained. Scott was in a small conversation with you now about one of the storm sightings, your hand clasped in his while you showed him the information on a tablet.

“It’s not that big of a deal. You all know they just got married, let them be happy.”

“But–”

“No ‘buts’. Finish getting set up for the trip. It’s an hour drive.” Javi dismissed everyone. He smiled at seeing the two of you in your own little world. Scott’s dimpled smile and your sparkling eyes reminded him that nudging Scott towards you was the best decision he ever made.

—

The diner was packed with storm chasers who were settling down for dinner. Storm Par had stopped at the same motel-diner combo that most all storm chasers for the day did. Your team had dispersed. Javi had settled in for the night and the rest of the guys had snagged a table in the diner. Scott was tweaking one of the radars that had acted up during its time in the field.

You walked up to the counter to place an order for you and Scott. You two had planned to eat in the motel before heading to bed. A waitress took your to go order and you took a seat on a stool. You scrolled through social medias while waiting.

“She just needs to go or something.” A familiar voice spoke in the diner. Your ears tuned into the conversation. “He’s just not focused on his work.”

Their words peaked your interest. “Yeah, they gotta cut it out with the PDA shit. It’s disgusting.” Another one spoke. Samuel, you thought.

“I don’t even think Scott likes her. He probably just puts up with her bullshit because she can read a radar good.” You fully recognized one of the voices to be Anthony’s. “I saw the way he rolled his eyes earlier when she hugged him. He’s probably ordering divorce papers as soon as we’re done out here.”

You frowned. There was no way Scott didn’t love you, why else would he be with you for three years and then propose and marry you? Maybe you were too much with the PDA but he never said he didn’t like it, and Scott is the type of person to openly express his dislike for something.

“Guys, let’s face it. She’s just good in bed, that’s why he keeps her around.” Your nose scrunched with disgust at Caleb’s statement. The rest of the boys laughed. You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach and you wiped the tears that started to form.

As soon as the waitress set the two to-go boxes in front of you, you were out the door. The bell chimed when you threw the door open. Scott was still in the parking lot behind one of the trucks, the prototype set up on the ground while he toyed around with some wires.

He must have sensed you coming because he looked up and a smile reached his face. Those dimples that used to have you swooning didn’t have the same effect this time. “Hey, honey.” Scott greeted you.

You put the two boxes on the back of the trucks. “Hey.” You weakly smiled. Scott was expecting you to greet him with a kiss or even a pet-name, but he got neither. “I got you that cheeseburger you were talking about all day. I don’t really have an appetite right now, so you can have whatever you want from mine.”

Scott quirked a brow and took his hat off, tossing it on the bed of the truck. He moved closer to you and used a hand on your chin to lift your face up. You didn’t make eyes contact with him. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked softly. His thumb ran up and down your cheek.

“Just tired…” you stared off in the parking lot. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

Scott sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out the room keys. “We’re room 114. Go get some rest.” He kissed your forehead and his hand ran down your arm. He grabbed the to go boxes and handed them to you. “Put these in the fridge for later please.”

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I’m not eating dinner unless you do.” He said as he returned to the prototype. He gave you a soft smile. “So when you get hungry in the middle of the night, wake me up and we can have dinner.”

You sighed but nodded, heading over to the motel without that hop in your step you normally had. Scott knew something was wrong but he also knew better than to force it out of you.

—

It was two hours later that Scott had made it back to the motel room. He softly closed the door behind him because he expected you to be asleep. But when he turned around, he saw you snuggled under the blankets on your phone. You ignored him, which made Scott question your sudden mood change even more.

��Baby, what are you doing? I thought you were tired?” Scott asked as he came up to the bed.

Scott could only describe your expression as soulless. “Yeah, I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

Scott grabbed your phone and put it on the nightstand. “Probably because you’re on your phone. You know how blue light affects you, hun.” Scott chucked and made his way over to his bag to grab pajamas. “Did you eat your dinner?”

“No.” You said quietly. Instead of picking your phone back up you just laid on your side and stared at the blank, dull yellow wall.

Scott held back anymore questions as he quickly changed into his pajamas. He crawled into bed behind you and wrapped his arms around your body, tugging you against him.

He fully expected you to turn around in his hold and snuggle your face into his neck, but you never did. You just laid there, emotionless, and it broke Scott’s heart.

Scott propped himself up on his arm to get a view of your face. His hand rested on your waist and squeezed. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did I do something? Or say something?” Scott was running through his mind for an answer. He went through the whole day trying to find something, anything, that he could’ve said or done to illicit this response from you.

You had never been this distant with him. Not for the three years you two have been together. “No…” you mumbled. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you being so distant with me?” Scott asked in a whisper. His voice was soft and comforting. “Why haven’t you kissed me, or held me, or even look at me since getting dinner?”

You felt the tears coming back and you shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know you actually liked all of that.”

“Huh?” You had him dumbfounded.

“I thought maybe I was doing too much and you didn’t really like it, so I thought I’d back off.” You sniffled and the dam finally broke. Tears began falling down your face and wetting the pillow. “I’m sorry.”

Scott pushed against your shoulder so you laid on your back next to him. “Don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He said while trying to wipe all the tears from your face but they just kept coming. “I don’t know what I did to make you think I didn’t like all the attention you give me, but I do. I really do.”

You choked out a sob and Scott kissed your nose. “I love all of it.” He whispered. “So don’t ever stop, I want all of your attention and love. All of it.”

You jumped up to hold onto him and Scott fell back onto the bed. You latched onto him and sobbed into his chest. Scott held you close, his hand slipped under your shirt and ran up and down your back for comfort. “I love you, Scott.” You mumbled into his chest.

Scott chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “I love you, too.”

—

The following day Scott ran over to the diner to pick up some breakfast for the two of you. You were still in bed after a rough night of tears and comfort. Scott remembered seeing you fall asleep on his chest with tear stained cheeks and a red nose.

He was waiting for his order before he heard three guys from his crew trot in. Their sluggish movement tells him they probably found a drink or two last night.

“What’s up, Scott.” Anthony greets. “Where’s the ol’ wife?”

“Still in bed. Just grabbing us some breakfast before we head out.” Scott said. He was not the biggest fan of Anthony but Javi insisted he was a good pick due to his analytical skills.

“Ah, rough night, huh?” Anthony raised his brows and smirked.

The other two guys had taken their seat in a booth and were already checking out the breakfast menu. “Yeah.. wait-what?” Scott snapped his head to look at Anthony with a questioning look on his face.

“Just assuming. With how attached she is to you figured she’s gotta be a good fuck, y’know.” Anthony shrugged and turned his back to Scott, walking to the booth of now giggling men.

Scott wasn’t pleased, and he certainly wasn’t stupid. “You son of a bitch–” he growled before jumping from his seat. Scott grabbed Anthony’s shoulder to turn him around then threw a right hook straight to his face.

Anthony slipped from the force of the punch and fell back onto the dirty floor of the diner. Scott quickly mounted Anthony and grabbed the collar of his story to lift his head from the ground. “Did you say shit to her?!” He yelled in Anthony’s face before throwing his head back against the tiles.

The waitress who was brining out food retreated back to the kitchen in a panic. Samuel and Caleb scrambled from their seats and tried to pull Scott off of Anthony. Scott kept yelling at Anthony all the while the man under him had blood pouring from his nose.

Javi was lucky to walk in before Scott bashed the man’s skull in on the floor of a rundown diner. “Scott!” Javi wrapped his arms around Scott’s midsection and yanked him off. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Scott tried to lunge at Anthony, but Javi had been going to the gym with Scott so he was able to hold him back. “That asshole said shit about (Y/N)!” Scott’s voice was loud, and aggressive.

“I’m just stating the facts, man!” Anthony finally got to his own two feet with the help of Caleb and Samuel. “She’s way too touchy with you, I know you’re only with her for the sex!”

Scott tried to tear Javi’s arms from around him but he was fumbling due to the anger coursing through his body. “Hey, I’d watch what you say about my best friend. You’re only safe from her man until I let go!” Javi threatened.

Scott was struggling to escape Javi’s grasp. One of the cooks had finally came running out from the kitchen. “You all need to get out of here before I call the cops!” He yelled at the group.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that sir!” Javi said while literally dragging Scott out of the diner.

Once Anthony was out of Scott’s sight, he began to physically calm down. “Scott, your actions are justified, but now we got to get out of here so you better go get (Y/N) in the truck.” Javi said. “I’ll take care of Anthony.”

Scott huffed and started walking across the street to the motel. “He better be gone when I get back because if I see him–”

“Yeah, yeah! I know–” Javi called after him. “Just hurry up!”

—

The motel door burst open and the sound startled you awake. “Sorry.” Scott quickly apologized. He was still working on calming himself from the event that happened just minutes ago. “Get up, we need to go. Now.”

“What happened?” You asked. You threw the blankets off of you and scurried to your bag for clothes. “Scotty, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you’re going to kill someone?”

“Anthony.” He said from the doorway of the bathroom. Scott splashed some water on his face. “Almost did kill him. If Javi wasn’t there.”

“What!?” You were in the middle of putting your shirt on when you heard him. “What did he do?”

Scott groaned. “Not do. Say.” He moved your shoes to the end of the bed for you to have quicker access to them. “He said I was only with you for sex.”

You froze and Scott immediately took notice. “Was I right in assuming he said something to you, too?”

“Sort of.” You mumbled while putting on your belt. “I overheard him with Samuel and Caleb in the diner last night. They were going on about how you don’t really like me, just want me for sex and you hate having me around…. Stuff like that.”

Scott walked over to you and pulled you against him. His lips crashed into yours in a fierce kiss. “So I was right.” You nodded with a frown. “Don’t listen to them, ever. You’re my world and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Your frown was quickly replaced with a smile. You pulled Scott’s face back down for another kiss. “And you’re my world, Scotty.”

Scott quickly straightened back up. “Glad we got that out of the way. Now hurry up before your world ends up in jail.”

#scott twisters x reader #scott miller x reader #scott x reader #twisters x reader

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request a little somno something with obsessive best friend!Neil? 🩷

OH FUUUUCK YES

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT 18+ ONLY, alcohol consumption/extreme inebriation, incel/'nice guy' neil

You stumbled in and fell onto his couch the second he opened the door, and he'd just laughed and asked if you wanted to get in his bed instead. He worried it sounded dirtier than he meant it-- not that he would mind at all if you wanted him to get in bed with you-- but you just hummed and mumbled something into his throw pillow about how you were comfy where you were already.

He sighed and sat next to you, putting a blanket over you as you fluttered your eyes shut. "Love you..." you whispered softly, and he smiled a little as his heart skipped.

"I love you too," he breathed, wondering if any of your shitty boyfriends had ever taken care of you this well when you got too drunk. You met most of your boyfriends by getting too drunk, so Neil was glad to have you safe back here at his place where nobody would do anything to you.

But he hadn't gotten up yet. He was still sitting beside you, his hand still resting on your shoulder where he'd placed the top of the blanket.

"You know, you really shouldn't drink so much..." he sighed, petting some hair out of your face as you stilled. It was sort of instinctive-- yet made his heart race-- to run his hand down lower, tickling your back and tracing your spine as he sighed. "Somebody could... get the wrong idea..."

He checked your face again, making sure you were out cold, before gingerly taking the blanket off of you again. Your dress was way, too short, he'd tried to warn you not to wear it, but you insisted on looking hot; you really should've known better, showing off your legs like that... Neil had always been obsessed with your legs, and he bit his lip when he saw how the dress had ridden up to basically just under your ass.

Tossing the blanket away, he hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down your legs, constantly checking your face nervously in case you woke up or stirred. Even if you did, you were too weak to stop him... fuck, why did that make his cock throb?

He started to open his jeans already, even though his heart raced with anxiety and shame at what he was about to do. She's passed out, she won't know the difference anyways, he thought to himself as he climbed up on the couch with you, pulling his cock out of his boxers with a little sigh. He stroked himself with one hand as he gently pushed up your dress with the other, groaning at the sight of your ass hardly covered by the lacy panties. You were obviously trying to get laid tonight, no doubt about it-- so wasn't he just giving you what you wanted?

He had to let go of his erection to tug the thin fabric down with both hands, smirking as the way your ass jiggled a bit, but then nearly gasping as he revealed the cute little pussy underneath. "F-fuck, baby," he praised with a sigh, leaning back to try to get a better view, carefully spreading your lips apart with two fingers so he could see your holes. "Fuck! That's a gorgeous pussy, wow..."

Of course you were perfect everywhere, it was just his luck: the most amazing, sexy, incredible best friend who teased him in the most infuriating ways. You'd do all these things that turned him on, trying to act innocent-- asking for his opinion on outfits, falling asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, laughing at his dumb jokes-- and then you'd turn around and fuck some jerk you met at a bar. When he gathered the nerve to say something flirty to you, you'd always giggle and push him away, saying something dismissively that always broke his heart: like "shut up, Neil, you're my best friend" or, even worse, "ew, stop, you're like my brother."

He fucking hated when you said that; it made him feel like he was cursed to have you so close but never have you, you know? But tonight, he felt like a lifetime of bad luck was paying off in the best karma ever: you were here, and you were his to play with however he wanted.

He spit into his hand and smeared it over himself, sighing as he looked down at you looking so peaceful and sweet under him. "So pretty," he cooed as he nudged your legs apart with his knees and slid inside you, "and fuck, so tight..."

He groaned deeply, watching in awe at the way your hole eagerly accepted him, swallowing up every inch that he gave it until you were stretched and filled to the brim.

"Oh my god," he gasped, taking a moment just to bask in the feeling, "fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last very long. I can already tell."

He held onto the couch tightly as he started to move, but then realized he should take the chance to touch you instead and put a hand on your hip. It helped, actually, because it kept you from rocking forward too much from his thrusts and kept his cock going as deep as possible every time.

He groaned proudly as he moved faster, squeezing your hip and keeping his eyes trained on your sweet face. "That's it," he praised, "take it, baby-- take my fucking cock."

He loved not having to impress you, or please you, or make you come-- he could just treat you like his own personal toy, your pussy basically just a fleshlight for him... if fleshlights were hot and sticky and felt like absolute fucking heaven.

Your walls tightened on him for a moment, and he moaned loudly. "So good," he choked out, shutting his eyes with pleasure briefly. "So good, baby, feels so good on my cock-- fucking perfect."

He gasped as he heard you whimper a little, and opened his eyes to look down at you. You were stirring just a bit, but your eyes were still shut. "N-Neil?" you groaned out groggily, and he should've stopped moving-- but he couldn't, he honestly couldn't. He was already so close and you were so adorable all helpless like this and he just needed to come so bad...

"Shh," he soothed, though it came out a little stuttered as his hips moved faster, slapping against your ass with the most amazing, filthy sound. "Shh, it's okay, just rest..."

"Neil," you said again, making him bear his teeth and flex his cock. He wanted to blurt it out right then and there-- yeah, baby, it's me, that's my cock inside you-- but he managed to stop himself, laying down on top of you instead as he pet your head and gave you rougher, deeper thrusts.

"Don't wake up, baby," he groaned, "I'm right here. It's okay. You can just go back to sleep."

"What... what's going on?" you asked, barely managing to open your eyes for a second... he loved the way you fought it, trying so hard to wake up, but your body was so happy to relent even if your mind resisted. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," he hissed again, "j-just stay still, I'm so close. Fuck, I'm so close-- I'm almost done, please--"

You whimpered, trying to struggle under him, and he moaned louder as it made your walls squeeze him again. "Neil, please..."

"Fuck," he grunted, "say my name again, baby-- I wanna hear you say it when I come inside you."

#dark!neil lewis x reader #dark!neil lewis smut #neil lewis dark fic #WELP.#this.

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mickandmusings · 4 months ago

Text

vi. 'tis the damn season

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: for the past six months, jake has spent every spare moment attempting to mend communication between he and honey. for months, he uses his phone calls to phone her, leave long voicemails, and writes her multiple letters a week. his efforts come with no avail, she never calls or writes him back. with christmas around the corner, jake makes his way back home to texas, but not before making an important stop along the way.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni!! (dirty talk, but no explicit descriptions); definite military inaccuracies; definite college inaccuracies; general angst; christmas story in august?

'Dear Honey,

I know this is the third or fourth letter this week, and I'm not even sure if you're receiving these, but I can't just not write to you. I left you another voicemail, and I'm not sure if you're listening to those either, but I have talked to you nearly everyday since we were nine, and, well, that's not a habit you break easily. I called you on your birthday last week and left a message, and I sent you a card, I hope you got them both.

Honey, I'm sorry. I'll say it in every voicemail and every letter until you believe me. I shouldn't have taken so long to tell you the truth. I regret it. If I could take it all back, you know I would. I didn't do it to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. But I know I did, and no words I could say or write will change that. I'm sorry. I'll say it over and over again until you understand how much I mean that.

I know you likely don't want to hear about my time here, but I've always told you everything. If you don't want to hear me talk about it, I thought you might read about it. I can't ever remember a time you weren't reading.

Life here is different. Not bad, just...hard. The weather is certainly cooler than the winters back home. We even got snow, true snow, not the shitty kind we get in Haven. It sticks to the ground, and you can actually play in it, not just bust your ass on ice and sleet. Things are always very routine and strict, but, considering it's a week til Christmas break, things are looking up. Honestly, I've never been more ready to go back home to Texas. Granny said she spoke to you about coming home for Christmas, since you missed Thanksgiving? I really hope you'll come around. I miss you, Honey. I haven't heard your voice since that voicemail you sent me in October. Look, you can stay at the other house, I'll set it up for you before you even get here. Or, I'll stay there, and you can have our my room. You don't even have to talk to me, just please come. Just seeing you would be enough.

My bunkmate, Javy, the one I've mentioned to you for the past few months, he's from New Orleans. He's coming home for Christmas, and he's going to drop me off at the airport there. I'll fly back to Austin from there, and Pawpaw will be there to pick me up. Sometimes, at night or when we have spare time, Javy tells me about his life back home in Louisiana. More often than not, it makes me think of you. They make me think of the birthday beignets you make for Pawpaw, and how you'd make us gumbo in the winter. Frankly, everything makes me think of you. Honey, I see you everywhere. There are these bushes outside Bancroft Hall, and they're full of these little white and red flowers. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're pretty, and I know you'd love them. There's a kid in one of my morning classes, and he's got your accent too. It's nice to hear, I haven't heard your voice in so long. I hope the Magnolia State is treating you well. I imagine you're much happier with your favorite flower all around you.

I don't have much else to tell you about. I'd like to tell you my other stories when we're face to face again. I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I love you, always. Call me back or write to me whenever you get the chance, if you're feeling up to it.

All my love,

Jake'

Honey holds the paper tightly in her hands, letting it crinkle under the pressure of her grasp. If he'd sent this letter when they'd first split, she'd have balled it up or ripped it to pieces with her blinding, white-hot rage. She had been so angry when she'd first moved away, ignoring his incessant phone calls and numerous voicemails. She had let his letters pile up on her desk, unopened and unread. In the chance that he'd sent this letter just a few months later, she would have stained the ink of his letters with her tears. After her anger came a fierce sadness, one that seeped into her bones and left her incapacitated, ridden with the agony that threatened to pull her under like a rogue wave. But now, as she stares down at Jake's scratchy handwriting across the lined paper, she simply feels numb. His letter does not spark an onslaught of tears or suffocating sobs that leave her chest heaving. She simply folds the letter back up and slides it back into its envelope, placing it gently on her desktop, deciding to deal with it later, much like the emotions it evoked.

She knows she shouldn't, but she grabs the familiar orange sweatshirt that lives on her bed and throws it over her head. It comes to her knees and the sleeves are far too long, but it provides her with a comfort she almost wishes it didn't. In her tiny dorm room in Starkville, her small college town (although bigger than Haven,) she feels isolated. Her entire life for the past six months had simply been going-through-the-motions of life: wake up, go to class, come home, study, finish assignments, work a shift at her on-campus job, shower, repeat. Life had become monotonous, something that her life with Jake never was.

She knows she shouldn't wallow. She should try and get out, make more friends-more than just the lady at the circulation desk in the library-and try to enjoy her life at nineteen. But, once again, that gnawing, creeping feeling infiltrates her chest, Honey wasn't like her classmates. She wouldn't enjoy sitting in a bar or attending a frat party. She'd sit in the corner alone, nursing a drink she likely wouldn't finish, and leave with an Irish goodbye. Now, all she had was a sweatshirt that smelled faintly of the boy she once slept next to each night, and it was her only source of comfort.

Honey knows she should get up and call Mrs. Janet, to let her know that she's okay, and that she was settled. The last time she'd spoken to her or Mr. Jacob had been nearly two weeks ago. She should call Haley and Sarah Grace back, both of her hometown friends had been calling since they'd met up for the last time in October. She knows she should stop shutting those who loved her out-Jake included-but that was a different situation entirely.

Instead of doing any of the aforementioned, she simply sinks into her comforter and puts her headphones on, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. She was glad her roommate had left for her own home state, leaving her alone in the dorm room for the next two weeks. Deep down, Honey knew she was lying to herself. She yearned for the feeling of home, her true home, on a farm in Texas. She craved Mrs. Janet's cowboy cookies that she made at least two dozen too many of, and Mr. Jacob's Christmas ham that took hours to get just right, but was so worth it when it practically melted in her mouth. She missed sitting around a room full of the Seresin family, watching the children open new toys and heaps of candy. She'd laugh as they opened new clothes with sour faces, quickly ditching them for the next box in shiny wrapping. Their childlike joy made her own flare, leaving her chest warm as she giggled quietly in Jake's arms. She missed Jake sneaking them eggnog from the kitchen, and the babbling laughter they erupted into when they realized no matter how much older they got, it was always just as disgusting as the first time he'd snuck it when they were thirteen. Mostly, she missed the warm, peaceful feeling she felt when she was in a room full of people she loved most. In a bout of honesty, she admits that maybe, just maybe, she just missed Jake.

Through her headphones, she can hear the rain patter against her window, and she sighs, the weather only adding to her melancholy mood. Honey knew if she chose to rot in bed, her emotions would only grow heavier, so with a deep sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on her worn sneakers. She takes off Jake's Longhorns hoodie and swaps it for her own, tosses the hood over her head, and grabs the keys to Jake's truck. She grabs her finished library books to return, and her wallet, deciding to wallow in the secluded section of the library instead. She walks out of her dorm room, locks the door, and takes the stairs down to the lobby. She pushes the door open and heads out into the rain.

Honey would never make it to the library that day.

Two weeks prior...

"You scribblin' away for that girl again, Seresin?"

Javy's voice fills Jake's ears, and Jake doesn't bother looking up as he shoots his roommate a middle finger salute. Javy laughs at the action before climbing into his top bunk, leaning his head against his pillow. There's silence between the two before Javy's voice cuts through again.

"So when are you gonna tell me about her?"

From the second that Javy had met Jake, it seemed like something was weighing his bunkmate down. It wasn't until a week or so later, when they both were calling home, that Javy learned it wasn't something, it was someone. Jake kept information about his girl on lock, so Javy knew little information: her name was Honey, which Javy found odd, but brushed it off. She was studying English at a college in Mississippi, and Jake had, somehow, royally fucked things up with her before he'd come to the Academy.

Jake sighs, stopping his writing as he looks up at his friend on the top bunk.

"If I tell you, will you shut up for ten minutes so I can write?"

Javy nods, his brown eyes sparkling with a stream of questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Fine, what'dya want to know?"

Javy is quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if pondering something.

"What's she like? Wait! No, let me guess! She was a cheerleader, pretty little thing, prom queen, the whole nine-yards to your little All-American thing."

Jake lets out a laugh, thinking of Honey as he shakes his head.

"You couldn't be more wrong. Except the pretty part, she-she's gorgeous."

"Really?" Javy sits up and leans over the metal railing of the bunk. "What? Is she like some metal chick with the eyeliner?"

Javy motions around his eye to emphasize his point.

Jake's eyes widened, continuing to shake his head.

"Definitely not."

"Then what's she like? C'mon man, you gotta give me something! You're always callin' her and writin' her, and I never see you get a response. She got you under Love Potion Number Nine or something? She do the whole magic thing? Can't trust that man."

"No, no, she's not like that. She's-," Jake pauses, trying to find the most accurate words to describe Honey. "She's quiet, shy, she's practically the opposite of me. She likes to read, a lot. I don't think there's ever been a time in our lives when she didn't have a book in her hand. She's kind, never lacking patience when it comes to all of my bullshit. And smart, ridiculously so, she's the smartest person I know. Honey is...witty, and funny, she's got this sarcastic sense of humor that you'd never expect from her. W-We've been friends since we were kids. We started datin' in high school, and we had this fight before I came here, and, obviously, she's still mad about it, so...yeah."

Javy notes the glimmer in Jake's eyes as he talks about his girlfriend, a small smile forming across his lips. Javy hadn't known Jake for more than six months, but this was probably the happiest he'd seen his bunkmate. Javy shrugs, giving his friend another incredulous look.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Seresin?"

Jake's jade eyes look up at him, his letter finished but suddenly forgotten.

"What do you mean? She obviously doesn't want to speak to me. The only time she's spoken to me in six months is when she left me a drunk voicemail on Halloween, saying how I made her cry. What am I supposed to do with that? If she saw me, she'd probably knock my lights out."

Javy shrugs. "But do you love her?"

Jake looks down at his well-kept shoes.

"More than she'll ever know."

"You said she's studying in Starkville? You think she's going back to Texas for Christmas?"

"It's unlikely," Jake responds, his voice somber at the admission. "Why?"

"Well," Javy props back onto his pillow, his hands tucked under his head. "I'm driving back home for Christmas, passin' right through Mississippi. It sounds like if you messed this up, you need to be the one to fix it. Show her you haven't given up, and you want her back. If you surprise her, maybe she'll give you a chance to explain yourself."

Jake's heart hammers in his chest, his friend's plan wasn't entirely bad. Jake looks up at his bunkmate, his face set in a knowing look.

"Honey hates surprises."

"And you hate living without her, which one will be worse: her temporary anger, or never speakin' to her again?"

Jake sighs, he hates that Javy was right. Maybe it was a stupid idea, cancelling his flight back home from Austin, tagging along on a road trip with Javy to get the love of his life back. But, a week later, Jake's duffel was slung into the backseat of Javy's car haphazardly as he rode shotgun, giving his friend directions toward a small Mississippi town.

Now, Honey makes her way across the rainy parking lot. Through her blurry eyesight, she quickly finds Jake's truck in the nearly empty parking lot. She fishes the key from the bundle of keys in her hand, sliding it into the key slot on the door and unlocking the door. Before she could remove the key and pop open the door, Honey hears a voice call out her name. She pauses, and for a split second, she thinks she hears Jake's voice. She shakes her head, pulling at the driver's side door. It was often shut too hard, and she had to pull with a good portion of her strength to get it to open. As she tugs on the handle, she hears it again, her name in Jake's voice. She tugs harder, thinking she was finally losing her mind.

"Honey, wait!"

The footsteps behind her alert her that the voice she had been hearing likely wasn't just a hallucination. She turns abruptly, and her heart stops in her chest. There, standing before her in a rain-soaked Navy sweatshirt and jeans, his significantly shorter blonde locks plastered against his forehead, was one Jake Seresin. Honey's eyes widened in shock, the breath in her chest growing short and ragged. She pulls her books closer to her chest, an action of both shock and keeping them as dry as possible. Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. She's quiet for a moment, rendered completely speechless.

"Jake?!" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You-You're supposed to be on a plane to Austin right now!"

Jake stands in front of her, motionless, as his eyes take her in completely. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and he simply wanted to peer at her forever. She hadn't changed much, she was still shorter than him in stature, still an avid reader by the small pile of books she'd finally tossed onto the truck seat, but her eyes didn't quite shine like they once had. Jake's heart hammered in his chest, staring at the girl he loved standing in front of him in the pouring rain, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in the cold.

"Jake, hey?!" She waves her hand in front of his face, attempting to gain his attention. "What are you doing here?!"

Honey's voice is loud enough to hear over the rain pelting around them both. Her eyes are wide as he looks down at her, his hands itch to touch her, but he keeps them at his side. He takes another look into her eyes, and he simply loses every ounce of control he has. He takes a step forward towards her, his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Honey wants to knock his hands away, she wants to let her anger simmer forever, but the warmth of his calloused touch provides her with a comfort she hadn't felt in so long. If it had not been raining so fiercely, both halves of the pair would realize the tears running down one another's face. He's silent for a long moment, simply taking in her face for the first time in months.

"Honey, I-I fucked up," Jake starts, his voice trembling with a flurry of emotions. "Honey, I fucked up so, so bad."

He pauses, allowing the rain to soak through both their clothes, his thumb brushing carefully against her cheek. His bottom lip trembles, his hands beginning to shake against her face. Honey says nothing, only braving a look into his green eyes darkening with tears.

"I-I've apologized a thousand times over the past six months and it's not enough. It'll never be enough, because knowin' I hurt you?" He pauses and shakes his head with his lips pressed into a fine line, effectively keeping him from bursting into sobs. "Honey, that shit has ripped me to shreds everyday since you left. I-I never meant to hurt you, ever. I'll spend the rest of my life apologizin' to you if that's what you want." His eyes bore into her own, his breaths shaky.

"I'll spend the rest of my life on hands and knees, grovelin' if that's what you want. A-And if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to you again, I-I'll do it. Just-just know that all of me-body, heart, soul, everything I am-it belongs to you. If you've decided that you're movin' on, and you want to do everythin' we planned with someone else, I won't try to stop it. But, you have to know somethin', and I need you to understand that it doesn't matter if you move to Canada, o-or you stay here, or you move back to Haven, my heart forever sits in your hands. It's yours, forever, whether I have yours or not. That house on my grandparent's farm? I fixed it for you, it's yours. This truck? It's yours, take it. Honey, you can have whatever you want, I'll buy you whatever you want, I'll make it if I can't buy it. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen. Whatever it is, baby, it's yours."

His chest moves quickly with his rapid breaths, his hands shaking from his contained emotions. Honey simply looks at him, still a bit shocked that he's standing in front of her. If she wasn't overwhelmed by the landslide of apologies he'd just spouted, she'd have given him her own back. Instead, she stands a bit still, her chest just as heavy as his. He mistakes her silence as rejection, and his face falls as he gives a subtle nod of his head. His hands move from her face, and, in that split second, Honey is shocked into action. She wouldn't lose him again, she couldn't lose him again. In one quick swoop, she grabs the wrists of his sweatshirt, pulling his attention back to her. She speaks a tad louder than her normal tone, ensuring he would hear her over the pelting rain.

"You, all I want is you. That-That's all I've ever wanted, Jake!"

He catches a glimpse of her face, her cheeks pink as she shivers, but her eyes, they were the same love-filled gaze he'd remembered. He wanted to begin another string of apologies, to assure her that he meant everything he said, but he never got the chance. In an action almost completely out of nature for the shy girl he knew, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers in a heated passion. He wasted no time in indulging in the action, his hands coming to her hips, lifting her a bit higher to deepen the kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turns to a clash of teeth and heated movements, and Jake quickly hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if it were muscle memory.

From his car across the lot, Javy shakes his head and smiles as the two embrace one another. He cranks his car back up, backs out of the parking spot and turns back onto the main road. He shakes his head as he thinks of his friend, mumbling to himself as he drives:

"Tis the damn season, Seresin, you lucky dog."

Back at the school, it only takes a split second for the couple's kiss to grow a bit too intense for the parking lot setting, and, without thinking, Jake pulls her through the lobby's double doors and into the elevator, where the two finally break apart for a split second.

"J-Jake, I-I never should've left like that, I-,"

She doesn't get to finish, Jake's lips are back on hers, this time with more fervor than before. Honey shudders, with both the cold from her wet clothes and the heat building in her torso. They break apart as the elevator dings, and Honey is pulling Jake by the hand back to her dorm. She all but shoves him inside, locking the door behind her. Jake wastes no time in crossing back to her, slowly pulling off the hood of her hoodie, his eyes widening when he glances at her mostly dry hair.

"Y-Your hair, it's...shorter."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I just needed a change...you're one to talk, J, I've never seen your hair that short."

He pulls her in closer by her hips, lifting the soaked hoodie over her head as he speaks.

"Yeah, well, plebe summer wasn't my best look, you're just lucky you missed me bald, baby."

Even in the dim light of the dorm room, Jake notes the darkening look of her gaze, her lids growing heavier with desire. Honey's hand comes to the short hair growing on the nape of his neck, her head cocking to the side as she threads her fingers through the new growth, a look on her face he can't quite place. He pulls her flush against him, attempting to read her look.

"Hm, yeah," she starts. "I'm real glad I missed that part. Y'know, why?"

The girl below him moves to kiss the underside of his jaw, making his hands tighten on the grip he has on her hips.

"Why's that, baby?"

Honey's lips move to his neck, his hands slipping past her hips and to the round of her bottom. Above all else, Jake Seresin had been raised to be a Southern gentleman, but his resolve was slipping.

"Because," Honey starts, her accent slipping through, causing the heat in Jake's lower half to grow unbearable as her lips continue their course down his skin. "I like havin' somethin' to hold onto when you're between my thighs."

Long gone was Honey's shy demeanor, and long gone was Jake's gentlemanly resolution. Without a word, he's tossing his own damp sweatshirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. Honey has ditched her drenched shirt and sweatpants, now standing nearly bare between Jake's arms. Without a second of hesitation, Jake pulls her onto the ridiculously small bed, but he pays it no mind, more focused on the grinning girl beneath him. He kisses her lips passionately, his hands resting on her bare thighs. His own heart hammers, and, as he kisses down Honey's neck, he can feel her own beating just as loudly. He pulls away, tossing off his damp jeans to the floor. He looks down at her almost bare frame, his emerald eys heavy with lust, but his voice is cased in affection.

"If this is what you want, that's certainly fine with me, but I need to hear you say it, baby."

Honey looks up at Jake's kind but intense gaze, her heart slowing a bit.

"After that whole The Notebook-esque apology you pulled, yes, I want this."

She nods in confirmation, and Jake wastes no time in attaching his lips back to hers. Honey's hands fly back to his hair, her fingers digging into his locks. Jake's hands come to her torso, carefully sliding off the clothing constricting her chest and tossing it onto the floor. He pauses for a brief moment, staring down as he hovers over her. Honey looks up at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Jake? Hey, what's the matter?"

Jake's mind is in overdrive, and he simply feels the urge to stop and stare at her. She's bare before him, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with affection. Jake swallows thickly as he pushes hair out of her face.

"Honey, you-you're beautiful. I am the luckiest man on fuckin' Earth, baby."

Honey blushes at his compliment, pulling him back in with a heated kiss.

"You're such a smooth talker, Seresin...but right now, I need you to use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than talkin'."

Jake grins from ear to ear, the usual smirk she's used to seeing painted across his face. His thumb brushes against the fabric adorning her hip, gently pushing it down. He tosses them to the floor along with the other clothes they'd shed, and nudges his way in between her legs. Heat fills the space between them completely as he speaks:

"Yes ma'am."

Hours later, in the late hours of the night, Honey is woken by the vibrating of something nearby. Jake-who has her pressed into his chest with the strength of a bear-doesn't budge. Honey, ever the light sleeper, groans, lightly tapping Jake's shoulders. His body moves, but he simply curls back into their shared pillow. She shoves him again, a little harder this time as she speaks.

"Jake," Her words receive no response, so she speaks again. "Jake!"

It's Jake's turn to groan, his arms pulling her closer to his bare chest.

"Hm? What is it, baby?"

Honey's lack-of-sleep induced annoyance fades at the nickname she so adores.

"Your phone is ringing."

Jake groans again, slipping out from under the blush pink sheets and searching for his phone that he assumed was still lodged into his jean pocket. Honey opts to glance at his newly toned arms and strong, broad shoulders, his time training in Maryland obviously having physical gain. He hits the button on the screen, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and speaks:

"Hello?"

"Jacob Thomas! Where the hell are you?!" His grandfather's voice fills his ears, and Jake pales. Shit. He had completely forgotten to tell his grandparents about his detour. "I've been sitting at the airport for three hours, son!"

"Pawpaw, I-I'm sorry, Javy just decided to take me all the way back to-" He's cut off abruptly.

"Look, that's fine, but you could've called. Your grandmother's callin' and she's pissed, son. Just get home, alright? Preferably sometime before Christmas Eve? She's already distraught about Honey not comin' around, so, the sooner the better. Heard?"

"Loud and clear."

"Alright, well, I love you, kid. Be careful."

"Love you too."

Jake hangs up the phone, crawling back into Honey's sheets and pulling her back into his arms. Honey's nose burrows into the crook of his neck, Jake's warm skin against her own far warmer than any blanket she owned. Jake's hand ghosted against her side, the other threading through her hair. His voice is low and soft as he speaks:

"How do you feel about Christmas in Texas?"

Honey's eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend with a shy smile, completely retreating back into her usual quiet self, a stark difference from the heated confidence that had run through her only hours before. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a wide grin on her face as she buries herself back into his neck, his toned arms pulling her in tightly.

"I don't know if they'd even want me there, I should've called Mrs. Janet back, haven't responded in like two weeks."

Jake scoffs, pushing back a hair from her face.

"Don't even think like that. They're gonna be more excited to see you than me."

"Guess we'll find out." Honey pushes up from her spot next to Jake, sliding out of bed and slipping on new clothes before packing a small bag for the road. Jake watches from the bed, a smile across his face. He rests his hands behind his head, his blonde locks tossed about from their rendezvous. Honey turns to him once she's dressed.

"Are you gonna show up like that? Not that I mind this look, but your grandmother might have some issues with it." She laughs lightly, tossing him his now dry shirt. "You might want to get dressed, babe."

Honey stills and grows red when the nickname falls from her lips without any thought. She turns to Jake, his eyebrow furrowed humorously at the nickname, his right pointer finger beckons her closer. She stands next to him beside the bed, his hand pulling her in by the waist.

"Where did that come from?"

"I-I don't know," she admits bashfully. "B-But if you don't like it-"

"Baby, I more than liked it."

He pulls her closer, plopping her back into the sheets with him. She practically rests completely atop him. His hands move to pull up her shirt, his hands resting on her now bare waist. She makes note of his gaze darkening as he looks down at her, his arousal evident against her leg.

"Jake," her voice is a whisper. "We should really get on the road."

Jake smirks, his lips now kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I'll get up as soon as you do."

Unable to resist one another, they were nearly another two hours before they got back on the road. After those hours and a ridiculously long drive back home to Haven, Honey now rested comfortably in the passenger side of Jake's her truck, Jake's thumb rubbing against her thigh. Both of them were incredibly tired from the prolonged trip, and more than ready to collapse into his childhood bed they'd shared for years. As Jake turned onto Seresin Farm Road, Honey felt her nerves kick in. Despite her excitement to return to the home that had nurtured her, she worried that she was going to be a burden for Janet and Jacob. She hadn't told either of them that she'd be coming home, and Jake hadn't either. She slid closer in the seat to Jake, her head resting on his arm. He looks down at her as they pass one of the many fields on the property.

"You alright, baby? You're lookin' a little out of it."

"M'fine, just nervous."

Jake's eyes cut down at her. "Nervous?"

"It's stupid, I know. I just, didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I don't want to be a burden to your grandparents."

"Honey, you're family. You don't have to let us know you're comin'."

Honey smiles, her nerves fading as the house comes into view. Jake parks the truck, the backwards baseball cap over his head covering his short, blonde locks completely. He cuts her a sly grin, a look of mischief drawn across his face.

"Want to really surprise them?"

Honey cocks her head, puzzled. Jake simply kisses her cheek and hops out of the truck, moving to open the door on her side. He comes to the front door, opening it and promptly hiding Honey behind his taller frame. He comes to the entrance of the kitchen, raising his finger to his lips as he leaves her only a few feet away in the foyer. She can hear his boots against the hardwood as he walks.

"Hey," he speaks simply, both Janet and Jacob Sr.'s eyes cutting to their grandson standing in their doorway.

"Jacob! You scared the devil outta me! Get over here!" Janet shuffles the towering young man into a hug after lightly chastising him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake's voice is muffled against his grandmother's neck. "Had to make a detour and pick up a little surprise for you."

His grandmother pulls away, her eyebrows furrowed as she gives the blonde a questioning look. "Surprise?"

Jake sends her a blinding smile. He pokes his head around the corner, beckoning Honey forward with his pointer finger. Honey shakes her head as she approaches, and Jake slings his arm around her shoulder.

"Hi," Honey speaks quietly. Janet and Jacob Sr. both turn, smiles painting across their faces.

"Honey! Oh my, sweet girl, you did surprise us!" Janet's voice is bubbly as she shuffles over to her grandson's girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh! And look at that hair, it's just darlin' on you!"

Honey feels her heart hammer, and she has to swallow down her tears as the older woman embraces her. Jake's grandfather follows suit, and Honey can no longer stop the tears rolling down her face. Janet wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"You alright there, Hon?" Jacob Sr. fills her ears. Honey nods through her tears, crossing the kitchen back to Jake's arms. He pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head as her tears stain his shirt. Janet's eyes gleam as she sees the two being affectionate again. She had been so worried about them both being apart for so long.

"I'm fine, promise." Honey's voice wobbles slightly. "I'm just really, really happy to be home. I didn't want to be a burden, but, I-I've really missed you guys."

"Oh nonsense! I promise we're happy to have you home, sweetheart." Janet's own face wobbles with emotion. "Now, c'mon, I'm glad I waited to make desserts, now I've got double the help."

She shuffles her bowls of ingredients around on the counter and Honey pulls away from Jake, more than happy to lend a hand with making sweets. Jake slips out of the kitchen to allow them to share their moment, and finds himself lounging next to his grandfather in the living room.

The graying man peers up at him over his glasses, giving him a satisfied look.

"Smart move there, son."

Jake directs his eyes from the black and white film on the TV to his grandfather.

"What do you mean?"

"Bringin' Honey home, makin' things right with her. Me and your Granny learned real quick this place doesn't feel the same when you two aren't around."

Jake smiles, shocked by the amount of emotion behind his usually stoic grandfather's words. The older man only gives him a hint of a smile before focusing on his western movie again. Jake listens as he hears Honey's laughter from the kitchen, and for the first time in six months, he feels content. Exhausted from hours of driving and he and Honey's activities in her dorm, he falls asleep on the couch.

Later, after Honey and Janet have finished their baking for the night, Honey spots Jake sprawled across the sofa, his boots and hat abandoned at the end. She covers him up with the blanket that rests behind him, placing a kiss on his forehead. She hadn't intended to wake him, but his eyes popped open. He's not fully awake, still a little bleary eyed as his hands fumble for her torso.

"C'mon, J, you're tired. Let's go to bed."

"Hm, lead the way, baby."

That night, Jake sleeps with Honey under his chin, tucked comfortably into his hold as tightly as possible. He dreams of Honey vividly-although mundane and simple, his dreams are a comfort: them sitting placidly with one another as she reads and he looks on as her voice fills his ears. For the first time in nearly six months, both of them slept peacefully and deeply, in a way they never could without sleeping next to one another. Tomorrow, when the Texas sun blares through Jake's thin curtains, they'll both be thrown headfirst into holiday preparations. But tonight, under the same roof where their story had ended, it begins again: Honey, in Jake's arms, sleeping content and comfortable in the bedroom up the stairs.

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#jake hangman seresin #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #hangman & honey

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andersonfilms · 1 year ago

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author!abby who writes a fictional novel based on you, but the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, she really didn’t think she’d be on your radar at all. yeah, sure — you did like to read. but you hadn’t even known about it when you were together. how would you even find out about it? abby sure wouldn’t be the one to tell you.

author!abby starts to worry about you finding out about her book when it starts selling well. she was happy, over the moon actually, but the fear loomed over like a dark rainy cloud, following her every where she went. confessions of love and words never spoken all laid out prettily in ink, and god did abby feel exposed.

author!abby who cries when she gets the news her novel is a new york times best seller. she’s stupidly happy about it and she’s feels proud of herself. almost as if you’re here right along with her, but you’re not. just this idea of you, placed inside this world she created — one where there is a happy ending for the two of you but then the doom of reality sets in.

author!abby nearly passes out when she runs into you. friday night, the moonlight hitting you so well, it truly wasn’t even fair. some other girl on your arm, and she only pulled you closer with abby’s presence.

author!abby still thinks you’re the most beautiful person, inside and out, and it pains her still to see you with someone else who isn’t her. of course she had been with other people, just like you, but there wasn’t anyone who fit perfect like you did.

author!abby wonders what she would say to you if your companion wasn’t trying to size her up. she was a femme which already made abby feel insecure. abby was your only history of dating a masc, which had always been a sore spot. she’s beautiful and the way she holds you, god it makes abby want to hurl.

author!abby thinks it’s silly she can’t just move on. you’re just a girl. granted, a girl who inspired her to write an entire novel. even then, she should be able to get over you. you’re stupidly perfect lips, those stunning eyes that maker her fall to her knees every time. it isn’t fair how much she still loves you after all this time. fuck.

author!abby also finds herself dreaming of you when she's lonely. it's harmless mostly, until she wakes up and you're not on the other side of the bed. then it hits her cruelly, you're not here and you've never even set foot in the apartment she moved into when the two of you broke up. she's living her worst nightmare.

author!abby really believes she's sick when you're untangling yourself from the girl you're with and you collide into her arms. you smell of cedar and vanilla and it intoxicates abby as she feels your arms around her waist. she feels light, the heavy weight of her solemn loneliness bites the dust in your presence.

"Missed my sweet, Abs. Fuck, it's really you and all that muscle, huh?" You kiss her cheek sweetly, so quick she's doubts if it even happens.

author!abby tries not to laugh at your date omitting an aggravated grunt at the interaction, but she decides ignoring it and having you in her arms is far more important. if it's only for this short time, so be it. abby knows she's blushing and hopes it believable the cold is to blame.

author!abby tries not to think of it for the next couple weeks. your kindness spreading to her like angel dust on skin, healing a heart abby had practically broken herself. abby wondered how serious it was with you and the other girl. the only thing she did know, was abby had made her jealous. the way she kissed you and grabbed your ass could only be the effect of bright, green envy.

author!abby starts outlining a new story and she knows as well as her publisher why and now she regrets telling him, but your pure presence had her writing again. the timing nothing other than comical. it shouldn't have, but it did.

author!abby is wearing nothing but black sweat pants and a white beater when there is a knock on her door. it's aggressive and harsh, and it surprises her when it's you. how did she even find out where you live? fuck, manny. it had to be.

author!abby takes in your appearance and it's clear you were dressed for a date, more than likely with the girl you were with earlier. evidently, you were dating her and god you were dressed to the nines in front of her. a cocktail gown with pretty black heels. she tries not to take note of your cleavage and your perfect tits, or the way the material was snug around your hips, accentuating them perfectly.

author!abby knows you're angry, and she isn't sure why. it's not like the two of you had talked since your run in. maybe abby had stalked your socials a bit, yeah. obviously. but she wasn't bold enough to actually reach out to you.

author!abby didn't have to think about it much longer when you threw the book at abby's chest forcing her to catch it. with a look of horror in her eyes, she knew you had found out about it and read it. eyes filled with tears, abby had caused you heartbreak once again. even if it was unintentional, she was the source of your pain and she hated herself for it.

author!abby hates the way you're looking at her, tears cascading down your plump cheeks, but your anger was still prevalent. you had every right to be upset and abby tried to think of it from your perspective. if you had refused to tell her you love her, but then wrote it all in a book and didn't tell her about it, there isn't a sliver of doubt she would be upset.

"I guess I should have listened to Manny and told you about the book." Absent mindedly chewing on her bottom lip. Abby avoids looking you in the eye. She can't even stomach your presence. It makes her feels sick, and happy, and awfully optimistic. It's disgusting.

author!abby knew a light-hearted joke wasn't the best choice she could make, but it was the only one she had. there wasn't much else she could do except wait for whatever blow she knew was coming. this was her own mess, there was no one but to blame but herself.

You ignore her comment. It makes you want to punch her and kiss her. "How could you look me in the eye tell me you don't love me and will never love me and then proceed to write an entire romance novel based on our relationship?" You were practically screaming at her, but your volume was reduced as chocked sobs fell from your lips.

author!abby wishes she could give you an answer that would help, but there isn't one. her reasons are selfish and nothing she says help you - not in the way you need. anything she could offer would provide little to no comfort.

"I'm happy now. I have a girlfriend whose good to me and it took me a long time to get there. To be happy without you and your cruel, vile words hanging over me and infecting my day to fucking day life." You regretted saying it the moment your eyes caught blue ones, guilt pouring out from within. “I’ve finally moved on.” "Then be happy. Just forget about what I wrote. It's stupid anyways, okay? Just a dream I got carried away with." It's a lame attempt and not enough effort is made to sway you to walk away from her front door. Abby pushed because it's the only thing she knows how to successfully do.

author!abby wishes you would go away because if you stand in front of her for any longer, she'll be inviting you in and lord knows she doesn't need this to happen. it's the last thing she wants and the absolute one thing she needs.

"It's not stupid, if it's your dream." You said, trying to reassure her. "You cared enough to write about it. I-, uh, please can you just tell me the truth? Please just tell me?" You pleaded wanting to hear what you thought of endlessly. "I wrote this for the girl I fell in love with, for the girl I still love and will always love and she's standing in front of me with the power to crush my heart in her hands if she wants."

#oh boy #yeah this was supposed to be a lil hc that turned into something a much more #wtf #anyways hi <3 #lesbian #wlw sapphic #abby anderson #abby fanfiction #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson imagine #rayne writes

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months ago

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naked under there

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop up event 'graduation'

rated m | 940 words | cw: mention of illness (flu symptoms), mentions of sexual content | tags: established relationship, modern au, college graduation, sick fic, the laziest possible almost handjob you may ever see (that's why it's not even rated e)

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Steve worked his ass off to get here, and now his ass was fucking cold.

This was definitely his own fault, but he hadn't considered the fact that the graduation ceremony was inside. With air conditioning. And fans blowing on the stage to help circulate more air.

Steve was naked under his graduation gown.

He was standing in an arena filled with nearly 1500 students and probably 5000 family members and friends, and he was naked.

Admittedly, not his brightest moment.

And what was worse, what was actually going to kill him, was Eddie called him an hour before the ceremony crying because he had a fever and migraine and body aches and Wayne wouldn't let him get out of bed. So he'd done all this for nothing.

He only had a few people ahead of him now, and his body was shivering. He looked out to find Robin, but she was lost in the sea of people already called to get their diploma sitting back in their seats. Steve was the biggest idiot here. They shouldn't even give him his diploma.

"Steven William Harrington."

He quickly made his way across the stage, smiling as he heard cheering in the upper level of the arena. All his kids had made it, though a couple of them didn't fly in until earlier that day and had to rush, so he didn't get to see them before he had to line up and get to his seat. Wayne promised to be there too, more of a parent figure for him in the last four years than his own parents had ever been. Even Nancy had made it, explaining that there was no way she was missing this when she'd helped so much with editing his papers.

As he walked off the stage, diploma in hand, he paused to smile for the camera that was taking pictures. He didn't think he needed them, but Wayne insisted on buying one to celebrate his achievement. He wanted to frame it and place it next to the picture he has of Eddie on his high school graduation day.

He forgot for a moment that the flash would make the pale yellow gown a bit more see-through. He forgot that the camera recording the entire session would probably capture this moment, too.

Instead of panicking, he walked back to his seat quickly, head down and hands holding his diploma in front of his entire crotch area. He was such an idiot, holy shit.

If he wanted to blame Eddie, he probably could, but really, this was all Steve.

Eddie had made a comment last week while he was fucking Steve against the wall that he couldn't wait to fuck him in his cap and gown. Steve couldn't stop thinking about being pulled into a closet after the ceremony, while everyone waited for them, Eddie lifting up the back of the gown and fucking into him.

Hence, being naked under the gown. Easy access was crucial when time was of the essence.

Except now, Eddie was dying of the flu in bed, and Steve was naked for no damn reason under this gown.

The shivering started again as soon as he sat in his seat. Why the hell was it so cold in here?

By the time they got to the last names beginning with Y, Steve felt miserable. He was freezing, but sweating down his back and neck, and the gown kept sticking to his thighs. His whole body felt sore and the pain behind his eyes was making its way to the back of his head and down his neck.

Would he get in trouble if he left early?

He had his diploma, and they were mostly done. He could go.

He left.

A few people around him told him to sit, but must not have felt the need to argue when they saw how miserable he looked.

His phone was buzzing in the pocket of the gown, but he couldn't bother to check it right now. He needed some fresh air and some water.

The fresh air helped slightly, but the sun hitting his eyes made him want to lay down and die. The headache increased exponentially as he tried to find a shady spot with no luck.

He could just walk back to the apartment. It was only three blocks.

Eddie was there.

His vision was slightly blurry as he made his way home, but he didn't need to see details to know how to get there. He walked this area every day for the last four years and now he was done.

He was done. Holy shit.

He barely made it in the door before he unzipped the gown and let it fall to the floor.

"Stevie?" Eddie's rough voice called from their bedroom.

He was so dizzy.

"Hey, Eds," Steve said as he climbed into bed, naked, sweaty, shivering, sick with the same illness Eddie was bedridden with.

"Sick?" Eddie whispered, eyes barely open as Steve turned on his side facing him in the bed.

"Think so."

"You're naked," Eddie said, eyes closing as he wrapped a hand around Steve's soft cock.

Steve let out a small moan, but didn't have the energy to do anything else. Neither did Eddie, it seemed, as he let out a small snore only a few seconds later.

Steve smiled to himself as he placed a hand on Eddie's chest and closed his eyes.

Eddie could fuck him in his cap and gown in a few days, like they planned, but this time, he wouldn't have to risk being caught in front of thousands of people.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #pop up event #graduation #established relationship #modern au

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sea-owl · 7 months ago

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I personally want to see jealous Colin because I think it be funny with how dramatic the Bridgertons can be. Particularly, I want jealous Colin in this specific scene.

The scene I'm talking about is when Colin stalks follows Penelope to St Bride's church. As he's following her he notices that they are traveling in the direction towards his bachelor lodgings.

After they rolled along for a few minutes, He poked his head outside to make sure his driver had not lost sight of Penelope's carriage. There she was, right in front of him. Or at least he thought it was her. Most hired hacks looked the same, so ge was going to have to trust and hope that he was following the right one. But as he looked out, he realized they would have a much further east than he would have anticipated. In fact, they were just now passing Soho Street, which meant they were nearly to Tottenham Court Road, which meant-

Dear God, was Penelope taking the carriage to his house?

Bedford square was practically right around the corner.

A delicious thrill shot up his spine, because he couldn't imagine what she was doing in this part of town if not to see him; who else would a woman like Penelope know Bloomsbury? He couldn't imagine that her mother allowed her to associate with people actually worked for a living, and Colin's neighbors, though certainly well enough born, we're not of the aristocracy and rarely even of the gentry. And they all plodded off to work each day, doctoring and lawyering, or-

Colin frowned, Hard. They just rolled past Tottenham Court Road. What the devil was she doing this far east? He supposed her driver might not know his way around town very well and thought to take Bloomsbury Street up to Bedford Square, even though it was a bit out of the way, but-

He heard something very strange and realized it was the sound of his teeth grinding together. They just passed Bloomsbury Street and presently veering onto High Holborn.

Devil take it, they were nearly in the City? What in God's name was Penelope planning to do in the city?

First of all Colin, how would Penelope know where you lived? Is your siblings giving out your address? Because I know you didn't tell her outside of saying you were residing in Bloomsbury. Second of all that's inappropriate for her to do so good sir and you know better. Yes she's a spinsterr now, but she's still a lady and even you commented earlier how she shouldn't be leaving her house without someone with her. This man just wants the, unknown to him, love of his life by his side and does not care about the social implications. It's so funny too when he gets all pouty when he realizes that she wasn't coming to see him. Again Colin how would Penelope know your address?

And then when they're in the church and fighting for Penelope's letter.

"Colin," she whispered."Please . . . don't."

She's seen his secret writings. Why shouldn't he see her's? Did she have a lover? Was all that nonsense aboutnever having been kissed exactly that-nonsense?

Dear God was this fire burning in his belly . . . jealousy?

"Colin," she said again, choking now. She placed her hand on his, trying to prevent him from opening the envelope. Not with a strength for she could never match him on that, just with her presence.

But there was no way . . . no way could have stopped himself. He would have died before surrounding that enveloped her unopened.

Dramatic ass Bridgertons always do things the most dramatic way possible. This man was ready to fight Penelope's lover that he made up in his head. I want to see how dramatic Colin can get now that he has a face to put the lover status for Penelope. He's going to lose his mind.

#bridgerton #polin #jealous colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton #romancing mr bridgerton #now please don't confuse this with that's how he realizes his feelings #that i would rather see him pondering on his own with possibly the first sparks happening when the status quo is thrown off

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jazjustpeachy · 1 year ago

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Imagine Muzan with a Maid!Reader ft. The 12 kizuki

Tw: perverts, objectification , not proofread (I just write whatever when I'm bored)

Imagine you're a demon who is only kept alive to be a Maid for the demon king, 12 kizuki, and the infinity castle.

Muzan was going to kill you after assuming you were useless. Then, he realised there just may be a job for you. A job that only exists to stroke his ego.

Imagine you in a Maid dress that gradually gets shorter and shorter from an ankle length skirt to a mini. You can constantly feel eyes on you at all times as you are ordered around by your master.

Muzan tells you to scrub the already clean floors as he tries to get a look at your frilly underwear that's just peeking through the bottom of your skirt.

You should really be grateful. He kept you alive, and all you have to do is do whatever he says whenever he says it at all times. And you know he is going to take any chance possible to punish you. Punishments would very in how painful and strict they are, but even the less strict punishments are dreadful. Can you imagine getting spanked by this man? Your peaches will be slapped off! You wouldn't be able to sit for weeks even with your regeneration. So be a good girl, and God help you behind.

Unlike Muzan, Doma isn't trying to hide his interest. He picks up the hem of your skirt to get a better look before letting out a giggle. As he is your superior, you know you can't and shouldn't do anything to fight back against it. Especially to Doma (you will die). You look good enough to eat. Akaza tries to hide his blush. He shouldn't be looking, and he knows this, but how can he help himself when you look like that. He is obviously the most respectful of them all. He knows what you have to go through and tries to treat you as nicely as possible. Even if he tries to avoid you most of the time.

At least Akaza keeps Doma as far away from you as possible.

There is always a bitter smell in the air at the upper moon meetings as you sense Daki and her beady ass eyes boaring into your soul out of envy. She hates the way you get so much attention even though you're lesser than her. I mean, she is stronger and prettier, so why are you getting all of Master Muzan's attention!

You're a little safer at the lower moon meetings because they can't get away with nearly the amount of stuff that the upper moons can. Enmu is constantly at your feet. Eventhough your so much less of a demon than him, it...practically dirt...he can't help but feel a little more than pity. He wants to show you how special you are and how you're just so perfect.

I can just tell he will be smelling you up every chance he gets. He loves the way you smell. He sniffs your neck as his hand slowly travels bellow your skirt pinching at the hem of your little frilly underwear. I can just tell Enmu is the type of demon to call you a good girl, naughty girl, or probably at some points go as far as calling you his "little slave."

Kamanue wants to look. He really does, but he's just so anxious. He's scared that if he looks somewhere, he is not welcome, and then Master Muzan will be upset. The last thing he wants it an angry demon king. But even still, he can't help but imagine you bent over his knee. He loves to feel strong and to take out his very deep and hidden anger on a weaker, subservient demoness who can't say otherwise is his dream. He wants to show you and Muzan how strong he really is.

Kokushibo can do what he wants. He doesn't have to hide what he is doing. Not in fear of Muzan and not for his own ego. He does what he wants when he wants, but what he wants is not always to peep at your cunny. But sometimes it is. Imagine he stops you at what you're doing and grabs your waist. Practically effortlessly, and just flips you around to take a look. He keeps a straight face while doing it, too. It's slmost scary. He just moves your underwear aside and just stares before putting you down and telling you to "get back to work, Maid." And like always, you're just left flustered.

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poppy-metal · 3 months ago

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quick someone revive the pretty woman!au I am thinking of her - reader on the phone with her ex!husband who never fails to make her feel small and undesirable as a woman with his cutting words and his reminder that he left her for a younger hotter piece of ass. she does what she never does, and she drinks. her secret stash of wine she hides from patrick because he's a recovering alcoholic and she wouldn't be a good friend if she had accessible bottles of alcohol when he was around. but she drinks the whole bottle. is nursing another one by the time patrick comes around - and she's somewhere far away, that she shouldn't be.

patrick notices the empty bottle. sees your flushed cheeks and red rimmed eyes and is all to familiar with the look someone drunk off their ass. seen it a million times in the mirror.

hes ready to help you to bed, tuck you in and make sure you drink some water, make a joke about you getting rowdy without him around - all things you've done for him at his lowest - but as soon as he's close enough you're on your knees in front of him. looking up at him with sudden hunger that knocks the breath out of him.

your hands coming up to his jeans - "you don't - you don't bring anyone over cause of me. n'thats not - that's not right..." you slur, sounding genuinely upset.

patrick is confused. his hands hovering in the air by your head - "you're a man." you continue. "a man with -" you hiccup. " - with needs."

at this, he flushes. not in embarrassment as much as in realizing what this is. why you got to your knees. and he's wanted you there for a long time. longer than he cares to admit, but. not like this. not when you're so out of it you can barely finish your sentences.

he grabs your hands as you fumble with his belt buckle. gentle but firm.

"im fine." he tells you slowly. he might make a joke if he thought it'd lighten the situation, but he's learned you're a fragile thing - and sometimes his jokes hurt you when the timing is shit. the timing would be shit here. "you're drunk, baby. let's get you to bed, yeah?"

the endearment fills you with warmth. you've never been anyone's baby. not even your husband called you that, when you were together.

"no." you free your hands from his grip. shuffle closer and fan your hands out over his thighs. your chin nearly brushing against his jean clad crotch as you crane your neck to look up at him like he's a god. he has the body of one. you've thought about worshipping him from this angle alot. it's just now that you have the confidence to do it. liquid courage. your ex husbands words from earlier about how stiff and unyielding you are echo in your head, and maybe with him you were that way, but with patrick - you want nothing more than to be yielding to him. "let me suck your cock."

patrick has to look at the ceiling.

what the fuck? he thinks. half crazed, half pained. why did you have to pull this sultry shit now - of all times? when slotting your mouth open and feeding you his dick was absolutely out of the cards for the night. god was testing him. he wasn't religious, but god was fucking testing him, goddammit.

he swallows and looks back down, shudders out a breath at how soft and open you look. and because he really can't help himself, he lets himself reach down to brush his knuckles across your cheek. soft skin - you lean into it like a kitten - he could so easily slide his hand around to the back of your neck - wind his fingers in your hair, guide you to his -

no. fuck, no.

he steps away from you. shakes his head. scrubs a hand over his jaw.

"can't let you do that. not tonight -"

"is it because you've already gotten your dick wet?"

your voice is high and shrill all the sudden. he blinks at you, suprised.

"no? this has nothing to do with that."

you sniff. shuffle back to your feet and when you wobble he reaches out to steady you and you slap his hands away. he draws back, hurt.

"you sleep with anything that moves except for me, then? is that it? my ass isn't tight enough for you? my tits are starting to sag and it kills your libido? I disgust you so much?"

patrick just kinda stares at you, stunned silent. you shake your head, like that in itself is an answer and begin to walk away, to your room.

alot of emotions go through patrick - worry, for the state you're in and why, though he assumes it's something to do with that limp dicked ex husband. shock, because you've never spoken to him like that before, even been that vulgar. hurt - your words about him sleeping with anything that walks cutting deeper than he'd like to admit. but what he settles on is this - anger.

hes pissed the fuck off.

you're at your door by the time he gets to you - doorknob in hand, twisting it open - and then his hand is in the crook of your elbow and he's yanking you around. he slams your back against your door, hard enough that you gasp.

your open your mouth to - to tell him off - you dont know but before you can do anything he's suddenly in your space, his nose bumping yours he's so close. he's breathing heavy and you have to go near cross eyed to meet his burning gaze.

you realize he's furious. with you.

"is that what we're doing then?" he bites out. his fingers dig into your arm hard enough to make you wince. "throwing a fucking tantrum and lashing out like a brat. all because what? your pathetic excuse for an ex husband whispered some shit in your ear? you know -" he laughs, but you know patrick well enough to know when he laughs at times like this - it's because he's so angry it just bursts out of him like that - because if he didn't laugh, he might scream - "for someone who likes to bitch about how old she is you sure do know how to act like a goddamned kid. you want to suck my cock? ask me like an adult when you're sober enough to not drool down your fucking chin."

he knocks said chin with his fingers, indeed wet with your drool.

you have no words for him. you simply stare in shock as he glares at you for another few heated moments and then let's you go.

you wobble, unsteady, bracing yourself against your door.

"im going out." he tells you, turning. "I'll find somewhere else to sleep tonight." he yanks his keys from the counter he'd left them on.

hes gone before your brain has caught up to your mouth.

still you say, "wait." to the empty air, anyway.

you don't feel drunk anymore.

you just feel like shit.

#poppy speaks #angry patrick save me.....#pretty woman!au #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig

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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years ago

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tìsraw seyki

tìsraw seyki [tɪ.ˈsɾaw sɛj.ˈk·i] vtr. hurt (someone or something)

Anonymous Request: I was wondering if you could do a fic with reader and Neteyam having an argument with Neteyam calling the reader clingy? She’s known for being quiet and reserved and was shy at the start of their relationship, and it took a while for her to open up, so it hits her pretty hard. They make up and stuff but reader keeps her distance bcos she took his comment seriously, and Neteyam isn’t aware of how much his words hurt her.

1,560 words

I dismounted 'Rrta, my Iran, and gave her a loving hug before ensuring the saddle was tight and bidding her a farewell for now.

My riding partner, Neteyam, was already walking away when I turned to join him.

"Wait up," I called, scaling rocks to reach him. I reached out, grabbing his shoulder, but for the first time since I'd known him, Neteyam shrugged off my hand.

I stopped in my tracks, and felt my body tense all over.

"Neteyam?" I asked.

"I need a little space, Y/N. Stop clinging to me. I'll see you later."

He didn't even do me the courtesy of turning around when he said it. He simply stalked away, down the mountain and into the forest, leaving me there alone.

I waited for a long time before moving, to ensure I wouldn't catch up with him, and all the while I wondered what I could have possibly done wrong.

Stop clinging to me.

Was that something I was doing? Neteyam and I spent a lot of our time together, that was to be sure... but I thought he enjoyed spending time with me. In fact, he had taken great pains to ensure I thought that. I was naturally pretty reserved, and not very trusting, and Neteyam had worked hard over months and months to convince me his feelings were genuine, to show me how much he cared for me.

So why this change now? What had changed his mind about me? Had he just gotten to know me better and realized I was annoying, clingy, and not fun to be around?

He could have at least told me that.

It was nearly dark when I returned home, and tucked myself in my hammock to cry myself to sleep.

Neteyam found me the next morning, setting out for a hunt, by myself.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I raised my brow at him. "Hunt. See you later."

Turning, I strapped my bow over my chest, and made to take off, but Neteyam grabbed my arm.

"I'm sorry, about yesterday. I was annoyed at Lo'ak and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have done that."

He seemed genuine, and he looked sorry... so I nodded. "It's okay. I'll see you later."

His apology was not enough to cover the damage that his words the day before had done. I didn't believe him - if he was annoyed at Lo'ak, there was no need to ask me for space or call me clingy. It felt like an excuse, and I wasn't ready to dig deeper and hear the real reason he'd said it.

So, I turned and ran, and he didn't follow.

"She's just been... weird," Neteyam said to his sister, Kiri, a few days later. The two were walking together, back from a long ride, and Neteyam was concerned.

Ever since their fight, which Neteyam had thought was so small, Y/N had been distant with him. She had accepted his apology, but he'd hardly seen her since, and when he had, something had seemed so strange about her.

She barely touched him. Her smile didn't meet her eyes. She just seemed... really sad.

"Has she said anything to you?"

Kiri shook her head. "Didn't you say you had a fight?"

"Yeah, but, I thought we got past it." Neteyam pushed a large leaf out of his way, and held it for his sister. "I said I was sorry, and she said it was okay."

"What was the fight?" Kiri asked.

"Well, you remember that day that Lo'ak was a huge pain in the ass?"

Kiri rolled her eyes. "Every day."

Neteyam laughed. "Right but, it was particularly bad, and I got my ass chewed for it. And then Y/N wanted to go on a ride but, I just wasn't in the mood. She insisted though, because we hadn't seen each other all day. So I went but, afterwards, I told her I wanted to be alone."

Kiri pursed her lips as they walked through the muggy jungle. "Is that all you said?"

"I said she had been clinging to me."

Kiri stopped in her tracks. "You did not."

"What? Was that bad?"

Kiri put her face in her hands and sighed. "Neteyam, you moron. Do you really not see what the problem is?"

Arms outstretched, Neteyam shook his head. "No!"

"You moron!" Kiri repeated. "Y/N is so shy, and so quiet, and it took you so long to get her to open up to you! You complained for months about how she probably didn't like you because she was so nervous and shy, and I told you so many times she was just having a hard time trusting you. And you finally get her to trust you, and you do this? You make her think that you think she's annoying?"

Neteyam's mouth full open and he leaned back, the realization washing over him. "Shit."

"So she probably thinks you don't like her anymore, and she's so hurt she can't even be around you. And you're here complaining to me about it instead of groveling at her feet! Do you love her or not?"

Neteyam felt like a hand was squeezing his heart. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Y/N, and he couldn't believe how stupid and careless his words had been. He didn't think she was clingy, he had just lashed out in frustration after a really bad day, instead of letting her be there for him.

He had shown her what a bad made he would be. He had disappointed her, and himself.

He took off without another word, running as fast as he could to find his woman.

It had been such a hot day, a swim in a cool spring was exactly what I needed. I scrubbed myself from head to toe, undoing my braids and scrubbing my scalp, until I felt fresh and brand new.

I lay in the water now, only my face above the surface, so I didn't hear him at first when he approached.

He was entering the water when I opened my eyes and saw him. A few days ago, I would have felt nothing but excitement upon seeing Neteyam - now, I felt dread. Would this be the time he would tell me he was no longer interested?

I'd been avoiding him for this very reason. I wasn't ready for it to end.

"Neteyam," I said, sitting up so the water came almost to my shoulders, and pulled my knees to my chest.

"Y/N! I have been searching for hours. We need to talk."

I bit my lip and turned away, trying to force the tears from spilling over. "Okay."

Neteyam knelt in front of me. "I owe you an apology, Y/N. I can't... I can't believe how careless I was with my words, and I can't believe I didn't realize how much I'd hurt you until today. I've been wondering why you've been distant but, I didn't even think..." He shook his head, and reached under the water, grabbing my hands. "I should have thought before I spoke. Y/N, I don't think you cling to me... well, you do, but it's something that I like. These past few days without you have been the worst of my life. I'd rather be tortured. I was in a bad mood, and it wasn't your fault, but I took it out on you. I know I destroyed the trust we worked so hard together to build up. I'm willing to do all that work again, to show you how much I love you."

I had failed - the tears had spilled over, but they weren't born of sadness. I leaned forward and got up onto my knees, so that I was more level with Neteyam, and pressed my head into his chest.

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him, creating a ripple of waves around us.

The relief I felt was overwhelming. Going from being so sure I was going to lose the best thing in my life to even more sure I was going to get to keep it, it was like whiplash.

I cried and Neteyam held me tightly while I did, whispering reassurances in my ear all the while.

Eventually, we stood up and got out of the water, and Neteyam helped me get dressed.

"Neteyam," I said as he fastened my beaded necklace, "I forgive you. And I'm sorry, too. I should have told you what was bothering me, but I was so scared that you had changed your mind, I was just, um, avoiding you so you couldn't break up with me."

Neteyam shook his head violently. "Bah! Never." He took my face gently into his hands, bringing it closely to his. "You are to be my mate, Y/N. I will never leave you. You can always trust me, and you can always tell me when I've hurt you. Apparently, I'm too dumb to figure it out alone."

I smiled. "Kiri had to tell you?"

He laughed. "She did."

He kissed me then, holding me tight. It seemed we both owed Kiri a thank you. I knew it wasn't the first time she had talked sense into one of her brothers, nor would it be the last.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow #avatar the way of water

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