#a comfort fic but i really really like how it turned out so decided to post it <3< /div>
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reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗
giving caitlin a massage on vacation part 1
caitlin flopped down in the middle of the bed. yes one bed with your hot friend you have a crush on is probably not the best idea but the hotel was already expensive and you refused to let caitlin pay for everything like she insisted
“i can’t believe this fancy hotel doesn’t have massages. i swear it said they had on the website” caitlin sighed, she was really looking forward to the post-plane massage
“i’ll give you a massage”
“right now?” you were surprised that she was taking you up on your offer, shes normally very reserved
“yeah. take your clothes off” you paused “i think that’s how massages are supposed to be done”
you averted your eyes as she took her clothes off in an attempt to be respectful of your friendship. you were both single. she knew you were bi and you knew she was ‘sexually open’ (but didn’t speak on it publicly because she didn’t need people knowing her private business) so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could hook up this week but she’s never responded to your flirting in a manner other than friendly, so you wanted to respect her boundaries
“on my back or on my front?” she kept her underwear and bra on. there’s the reserved caitlin you knew
“i’ll get your shoulders first. lie down on your stomach” you allowed yourself to look at her body as she laid down. you’re a thighs girl through and through but those arms and abs are impossible to ignore. caitlin surprised you by unhooking her bra, lifting her chest a bit, lowering the straps off her arms, and throwing her bra off the bed. but you weren’t going to complain about a pretty girl taking her bra off in front of you. you placed your legs over her hips to get in a good position and started to massage her shoulders. she let out a loud satisfied groan. fuck. you were already wet one second in
“i’m so tense i really needed this” you continued to work on her strong shoulders while trying to contain your arousal. the soft moans and sweet whimpers she made were insanely hot and it was already difficult to focus. you moved down to her back. you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable so you kept your hands away from her side boob. she seemed to sense your hesitancy
“just really manhandle me. go as hard as you can” you placed your hands on her back and let your fingers graze her side boob. she didn’t object so you continued to work on her back. again with the soft moans and sweet whimpers. as you got to the bottom of her back, you considered whether you should massage over or under her underwear. you decided over just to make sure she was comfortable. she squeaked when you put your hands on her ass
“is this ok?”
“yeah of course. i was just a little surprised. keep going. please” the bit of desperation in her voice turned you on even more. you continued to work on her ass as you scooted down her body to get in a better position. you breathe in a little as you finally put your hands on her thighs. they’re so muscular and would look amazing on top of your shoulders. you pulled her legs apart to get more leverage and you couldn’t help but notice there was a wet spot on her underwear. fuck. you smiled to yourself. if the only thing that happens between you and caitlin is that you made her wet by having your hands all over her, you would be happy with that. more soft moans and sweet whimpers. you held back your own moans as you, a thigh girl, massaged the most gorgeous girl’s gorgeous thighs. you took your time on her thighs, you were enjoying yourself and she’ll stop you when she’s ready. the moans became less soft and caitlin eventually put her hands on yours to stop their movements
“can you do my front now?” she sounded a little desperate as if she was trying hard not to expose that she was turned on
“yeah. turn over” she turned over, exposing her tits and abs to you. you quickly put your eyes on her pretty face so she wouldn’t see you taking in her body. she put her hands up to cover her chest. you smoothed her shiny hair down and examined her flushed cheeks. she looked amazing under you and you could easily see yourself being on top of her again and again
“is this helping you? are you less tense now?” you had to say something so you wouldn’t kiss her and potentially make things weird
“yes this feels amazing”
“let me get your tits” you said as you pushed some stray hair behind her ear “you’ve been working so hard all season, you deserve a full body massage”
“nah you can skip them. they’re small they don’t need any attention”
“small and cute and perfect. they deserve all the attention” she rolled her eyes but gave you a cute little smile. you moved your hands from her beautiful face down to her chest, nudging her hands off her tits and replacing them with yours. you massaged her tits and rubbed your thumbs over her nipples. her eyes closed and her mouth opened slightly. you could see her damn tongue that she was always sticking out but never putting it where it belongs (your mouth). soft moans and sweet whimpers left her mouth again. eventually you moved your hands off her tits and down her abs. they were so tight and toned she must do crunches constantly. your looked up at her face. she seemed to be enjoying herself so you decided to be brave and dip your fingers below her underwear waistline as you rubbed your thumb in circles around her bellybutton. she raised her eyebrows but didn’t object to your hand placement. you took your hand out of her underwear and once again separated her legs. did the wet spot get bigger? fuck. instead of starting at the top of her thighs, you decided to tease her and start at her knee.
you put both of your hands on her right thigh, massaging up as slowly as possible. god her legs are stunning. the higher your hands got the louder her moans got. when you eventually got to the top of her thigh you slowed down even more and ‘accidentally’ grazed the wet spot with your fingers. she let out a particularly loud moan so you moved your hands to just above her left knee. you laughed a little to yourself at her frustrated face and obvious irritation but you knew the payoff to the teasing would be worth it. as you moved your hands up her thigh as slow as possible, her soft moans got louder and her sweet whimpers became more needy. you once again ‘accidentally’ grazed the wet spot when you got to the top of her thigh. she let out a long moan and made a face that was clear she was thinking. you ran your fingers over the wet spot again. she grabbed your hands with her right hand and the back of your neck with her left hand. she pulled you down to her with her left hand and finally puts her tongue where it belongs (your mouth)
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Softening
A/N: AAA YAY POOLVERINE!! i absolutely adore these two and have wanted to write them for months now, just now getting around to it. i really want to get into writing consistently again, so i hope there'll be more soon (i really wanna write one with Logan and Laura, so we'll see if i get around to that) <3
Summary: Wade learns about the best way to comfort a Logan stuck in his mind, and also learns that Logan doesn't mind said comfort very much.
this is a sfw tickle fic and features implied romantic Wade/Logan, plus a decent amount of language. if you don't like it, don't read it. 🫶
also spoilers for the movie lol
Logan was tired.
Okay, tired was a very very large understatement. He was absolutely exhausted.
Now, granted, he wasn't nearly as exhausted as he had been before a certain merc showed up at the bar and dragged him on the weirdest journey of his entire 200-year-long existence. Wade was actually a good person at heart underneath his constant quips and innuendos, and was now someone that Logan considered a good friend (perhaps he felt something more, but he hadn't decided on that yet.)
But right now, he didn't feel like debating on his feelings about Wade. His mind was filled with memories that he'd tried so desperately to bury and forget, memories of those he had once cared for, those that had died because of his negligence.
He leaned back against the couch cushions in the living room of Wade's apartment, taking another swig of the alcohol from the bottle in his hand, trying to drink his feelings away as he had done since the incident.
Wade, however, was not going to allow that to happen.
The merc walked into the room in a Hello Kitty t-shirt and shorts, carrying his best-dog-buddy in his arms. He let out a slight huff at the sight of Logan chugging booze like there was no tomorrow, setting Dogpool down on her overly-large dog bed.
"Hey, peanut, put down the bottle for at least two seconds, would you?" He asked with an undertone of sarcasm, walking over and flopping down onto the couch next to him, just slightly too close as usual.
Logan, not exactly being in the mood to deal with Wade's jokes and nonstop rambling, ignored him for a second to take another sip. "I don't feel like puttin' up with you right now. Go away, I needa be alone." He grumbled, gazing down at nothing in particular, his expression contorted with irritation and suppressed emotion.
Wade, of course, didn't listen. He was able to read the other mutant very easily by now—it wasn't like Logan bothered to hide it very much, anyway, so it didn't take much to see that he was being weighed down by something. Despite his tendency to turn everything into a joke, he knew when something was important.
Although he knew that the grumpy man usually didn't allow Wade to touch him, he reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, inwardly celebrating when Logan allowed it to stay there. "Hey, what's on your mind?"
Logan didn't answer at first, having a mental battle with himself within his head. He trusted Wade, genuinely, but sharing his thoughts and feelings was something he'd never been good at. Pushing people away was what he was good at.
But... look where that had gotten him last time.
Deciding that he would have to do this eventually anyway, he let out a sigh before speaking up in a grumble.
"I jus'... miss 'em. I wasn't there to protect 'em, and now..."
Logan's voice trailed off, his gaze troubled as he avoided looking at his roommate. He felt pathetic, talking about this—it was something he'd only shared with a couple people (one of which was manipulating him), but... for some reason, he found himself trusting Wade with it, despite the fact that he was the most annoying person he'd ever known.
Wade, on the other hand, didn't think it was pathetic in the slightest. He was absolutely thrilled that Logan was being so vulnerable with him, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste. Besides, he understood how he felt, in a way—not protecting the ones you love, and feeling the guilt destroy you from the inside out.
The merc leaned forward so that he was in Logan's line of vision, offering him a small smile.
"Thanks for telling me, peanut. Really. I'm sorry about all that."
Wade said, nodding his chin a little. He hadn't been this genuine or sincere with Logan since their talk before the whole creating-a-matter-antimatter-circuit extravaganza.
But, of course, he was still Deadpool, the Merc with the Mouth.
"Come on, bud, I gotta get you to cheer up a bit. Ya can't brood forever, as hot as you look doing it." He joked, giving Logan a light poke to the side, trying to get him to loosen up a little. He did not, however, expect the reaction that the poke got him.
Logan flinched at the unexpected poke, his eyes widening briefly, drawing in a quick breath at the sensation. He hadn't felt that in so many years, and... fuck.
Wade was definitely not going to let this go.
A shit-eating grin spread across the mischevious Deadpool's face, multiple thoughts popping into his mind, but one was able to be heard above all—Logan was ticklish.
"Actually, Wolvie, I think I have the perfect idea to help you cheer up..." Wade said slowly, leaning closer and closer to his now inwardly panicking friend-maybe-more.
Logan was definitely not about to let himself get tickled of all things by the most insane person he'd ever met, for he knew that Wade would take forever to drop it.
The man shifted uneasily toward the arm of the couch, scooting backward and keeping an eye on his roommate at all times. "Absolutely not, motherfucker. You better not touch me or I swear to god I'll—AHCK!"
Logan's threat (that he didn't really actually mean) was cut off as Wade tackled him down, pinning him to the couch and straddling his thighs so that he couldn't go anywhere. The merc grinned like a Cheshire cat, a few fantasies playing out in his head now that he had the Wolverine pinned underneath him—
Nope, we're not going there. Besides, Wade had different plans right now.
He placed his hands on Logan's abdomen, just resting them there for now, smiling broadly as he felt the mutant tense up underneath his touch.
"Ooh, I didn't peg you to be the sensitive type, but you learn something new every day, huh? Now, let's see here. Since Marvel Jesus is merciful, I'm gonna let you pick out a safeword! Whaddya think of that, peanut? What do you want it to be?"
Logan felt his sanity slowly deteriorating as Wade blabbered on and on, and frankly, he didn't really know what the fuck he was even talking about (although he'd gotten used to that by now.) He was currently clenching his fists at his sides, using every last ounce of self control he had to not stab Wade through his arms.
"The only reason I'm not cuttin' your fucking hands off right now is because Althea doesn't want blood gettin' everywhere. Get the fuck offa me and find someone else to bother." Logan snarled up at Wade, shooting him a glare sharper than a piece of shrapnel—but, of course, Deadpool was not deterred in the slightest. In fact, Logan's mild panic masked by anger only egged him on further.
"Well, that isn't a safeword, is it? I guess you're just gonna have to go without. Sorry not sorry!"
Wade declared with a joyous smile, curling his fingers and starting to scribble up and down both of Logan's sides over his shirt, his fingertips climbing up to his ribcage and digging into the muscles there. Being the dexterous mercenary he was, quick movements like this were a piece of cake for him—and came in handy when tickling, apparently.
However, it proved to be a death sentence for Logan.
The Wolverine was now squirming and bending away from Wade's hands as much as possible, although that didn't exactly prove helpful, considering his currently pinned position. His lips were stubbornly clamped shut, forcing back the laughs that he felt were quickly bubbling up in his chest.
"Fuckin' piece of—grrrgghh! Wilson! I'm gonna—" Logan began to threaten through clenched teeth, falling silent again when he realized he was growing closer and closer to breaking with every word. He hadn't been tickled in literal decades, and he found himself reacting to the feeling way more than he expected.
The thing was, he had long ago grown accustomed to violence and an otherwise lack of physical touch in his life. The only times he was touched was when he was fighting, in danger, things along those same lines of violence. To be touched in a gentle way at all felt incredibly foreign, and he frankly didn't know how to feel about it. The idea that he wasn't in danger, and that he could allow this to happen without any harm to anything aside from maybe his ego, was a surprisingly comforting thought.
That thought sort of helped (or hindered, depending on how you looked at it) Logan loosen up a little, and caused him to break a little sooner than he would normally have allowed himself to—especially when Wade's mischevious fingers crawled their way up to his upper ribs, near to his underarms.
"Pfffuhuhuhuck! Dahahamnit, you dihihick! Stahahap it!"
In that moment, Wade definitely fell in love. Whether it was with Logan himself or his laughter, he didn't know. What he did know was that he needed to do this more often.
"Aww, listen to those sweet little laughs! C'mon, Logie, I know you've got more in you! I think I've just gotta find the right spot, huh? Wanna tell me where that is?"
"Fuhuhuck yohou!"
"Now, while that does sound quite enticing, I'm afraid that's not what we're doing right now. If you're gonna be a stubborn little asshole, I guess I'm just gonna have to find that spot myself. How terrible..." Wade beamed, his expression filled with pure glee.
So, now, Wade went on a new mission: find Logan's worst spots and then proceed to exploit the shit out of them. The mischevious merc's fingers crawled up from Logan's upper ribs into his underarms, digging his wiggling digits deep into the soft muscle.
Logan let out a loud snort before dissolving into wheezy laughter, clamping his large arms to his sides reflexively while simultaneously punching and smacking at his roommate's arms in a feeble attempt to get him to stop.
"Wihihihilsohohon! Gehehet the fuhuhuhuck out of thehehere, ya mohohohoron!" He managed to snort out, hating himself for being unable to hold back the wide grin he knew was on his face at the moment.
Wade cocked his head to the side, his devilish grin widening even further. "Oh, not there, huh? That's okay, I've got plenty of other options here..."
After giving one last scribble to Logan's underarms for good measure, Wade brought his hands down to those stupidly attractive abs that he was hiding underneath that shirt, kneading them with both hands on either side while drilling his thumbs into the flesh around his navel.
Yet another snort was ripped from Logan's throat before he erupted into a fit of hearty laughter, the sound a little more wild and frantic than it was a second ago. Of course Wade had managed to find the spot that practically made him explode as soon as it was touched.
Except, as he writhed around underneath his roommate, another thought occurred to him amidst his persistent giggling. He didn't really mind this as much as he thought he would. In fact, he found himself secretly enjoying it, in a sense. It allowed him to let go, giving him a reason to laugh, which was something that Wade said he didn't do nearly enough. Perhaps he should take his advice, just this once.
However, Logan was forcibly ripped out of his thoughts when he felt Wade's hands sneaking their way underneath his shirt, pushing it up before he began scratching at his abdomen rather than kneading.
"Ooh, now I can really get in here. Look at those gorgeous abs, how could you possibly go around hiding these?" Wade beamed, admiring his muscles as he kept up his attack.
Logan, meanwhile, was laughing so hard he could barely form thoughts, pounding his heels against the couch cushions while he grasped desperately at Wade's wrists, trying to wrench his hands away from his stomach—but the mercenary was freakishly strong.
"WahahAHAhade! You're suhuhuch a—ahahEEK! Fuhuhuhuuuck, nohohot thehere!"
Logan had been about to threaten Wade with the usual decapitation (which he never meant), but it had been cut off by his own squeal when Wade's finger dug right into his navel. He was losing his mind by now, and he wasn’t sure how much more laughing he could muster. The answer was a lot, but he didn't know that.
He was probably about to find out, though, because Wade had yet another mischievous idea. It seemed he was never short of those, and Logan was often the person who ended up the victim... see the pattern?
The merc leaned forward to get a better look at Logan's smiling, red face, a smile of his own spreading across his features. It was devilish, but it had a bit of genuine warmth behind it—this was the first time he'd ever seen Logan smile so much, and he looked so relaxed, even if he was laughing his ass off. He definitely wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste.
And so, he set his idea in motion, even though he knew he probably would get stabbed for it. (It wasn't like he hadn't gotten stabbed by Logan a million times already, what was one more?)
"Y'know, Wolvie, I'm feeling a little hungry. Whaddya say I just take a big ol' bite of these sexy abs?"
Logan didn't even know what the hell Wade was talking about, but he barely had time to process his question before his insane roommate came forward and planted his mouth right above his navel, nibbling at his skin—not nearly hard enough to hurt, but definitely enough to tickle the poor guy out of his mind.
Logan let out a shriek he didn't even know he was capable of producing, the wildest laughter ever exploding from his chest, snorts and squeals erupting from him in between—much to his own dismay. Wade, however, didn't think it was as bad as Logan did. In fact, he found it adorable more than anything else.
He wished he could hear Logan laugh like this more often—he was always so tense, never able to relax fully due to his own mind. If Wade was able to take his mind off of the thoughts that plagued him, even if for just a few minutes through something as silly as tickling, he would definitely do it.
...Which was why he continued to nibble at Logan's abs, making exaggerated eating noises as he did so, loud "OMNOMNOMNOM"s filling the space in the room that wasn't already filled with Logan's hysterical laughter.
"Ahahahahaa, Wahade, for fuck's sahahAHAke! Thahahahat's enoUGH! Seriously! Pleheheheheeeease!"
Wade blinked, pulling back for just a second to make a theatrical flabbergasted expression down at Logan.
"Do my ears decieve me? Was that... dare I say it... a 'please'?! You're begging? Oh, man, I must be dreaming. I'd ask you to pinch me, but seeing as you can't right now, I think I'll just pinch you instead."
Wade didn't give Logan time to process the blabbering that was coming out of his mouth before he started pinching at the mutant's ribs, going one at a time as he slowly made his way upward, leaning forward again to nibble at his abdomen simultaneously. Logan lost his shit, between the little pinches that tickled way more than he thought it would and the unbearable nibbling of his ridiculously ticklish stomach, he was going insane.
"Ehehehahahah—c'mohOHOhon! Stahahap it, no mohohohORE!" Logan managed through his hysterical laughter, slapping at Wade's arms, seemingly endless snorts being torn from his throat every few seconds due to how hard and how much he was laughing. His roommate simply smiled down at him and continued, expression filled with glee and pure delight.
"No can do, honey badger. This fic still isn't long enough, so I've gotta do a little more... unless I stop now and we hug it out for a few paragraphs..."
"Hehehell no, fuhuHUcker!"
"Well, then it seems like you're just gonna be stuck here for a while longer. Such a shame—y'know, I wonder how often I can do this without you stabbing me. Does daily sound good to you? I think that sounds wonderful, I wanna hear your cute little piggy snorts—"
Logan felt a burning warmth rising up his cheeks and at the tips of his ears at Wade's words, managing an annoyed (embarrassed) groan through his giggles, which were growing louder and more frantic as Wade made his way back up toward his armpits.
"Shuhuhut uhuhup! Gohod, I hahahahate you..." He retorted, letting out a squeak when Wade give a firm prod to his underarm in response.
"Now, now, my little honey pie, I know for a fact that's not true. People who hold hands while listening to Madonna can't hate each other. See, your problem is—AACK!"
Wade had been about to dive into a deeply comprehensive list about the reasons why Logan could never possibly hate him when he was promptly bucked off and onto the floor, rubbing at his head as he picked himself up. He was about to pounce on Logan and attack him with revenge tickles for throwing him off when the sight before him made his heart melt into mush.
The feral man was lying on back still, a smile still on his lips, a red color having bloomed across his cheeks, spreading up to his ears and down his neck. There was a sparkle in his tired eyes that hadn't been there previously, his hair all messed up from how much he'd been squirming.
Honestly, Wade thought it was adorable.
The merc sat down on the edge of the couch next to the still-panting Logan and gave him a little smile and tilt of his head, deciding to keep all his quips to himself for the moment.
"Feeling better, peanut?"
When Wade asked that question, Logan blinked and realized that yes, actually, he did feel better. A lot better, at that. He didn't think something so stupid could manage to take his mind completely off of what had been haunting him, but... he wasn't really complaining.
He sat up and tried to regain his bearings, pushing his shirt back down and running a hand through his hair, gazing down at his lap for a few moments before he looked over at Wade, not holding eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds.
"Uh... yeah. Um... thanks. For that. I didn't realize I needed it, but... you seem to know me better than I do." Logan said quietly, letting out a slight huff of air as a lopsided smirk made its way to his face.
Wade smiled at him, simply giving him a nod of acknowledgment for his thanks. Honestly, he didn't need to thank him—he would so tickle the shit out of him every day if Logan let him, which he wouldn't, but hey, a man can dream!
He wrapped one arm around Logan's shoulders, expecting the former X-Man to push him away, but found himself surprised when he didn't. He gave another internal celebration before he pulled him close to his side, giving friendly pats to his shoulder (this was probably about the non-gayest thing they'd ever done: the bro side-hug.)
"Anytime, peanut. Cures something in my soul to see ya smile, really, so I'd do it again."
Logan shivered a little at that idea, instead opting to just not think about it and instead relaxing into the gentle physical contact that Wade was slowly training him to become more used to. Hesitantly, after a few moments, he rested his head on his roommate's shoulder, expecting to be poked fun at for his action.
However, the silence that followed genuinely surprised him. Wade was too busy being completely enamored with Logan and how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be right now to say anything for once.
After a long while of silence, Logan was considering letting himself drift off here since the after effects of the tickle session Wade had put him through was hitting him, but the merc broke the silence before he could do so.
"...So we did end up hugging it out for a few paragraphs."
"Motherfucker—!"
#sfw tickle community#tickle fic#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#lee!wolverine#lee!logan#ler!deadpool#ler!wade#finally finished#that took so long#the end sucks but it's because i rushed it
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Safe and Sound
GE!Saeran/gn!reader:
Saeran's love for you was unconditional, just like the promise of happiness you've made to each other in the blooming garden of discord. However, learning to accept that kind of love was not as easy as you thought it would be. While, undeniably, some days were bright and happy... on days like this one, you couldn't help but struggle with your insecurities concerning your relationship.
TW for: feelings of severe insecurity, low self-esteem, depressive thoughts.
There was no doubt in your heart regarding Saeran's feelings for you. No, his love for you was undeniable and unwavering in its affection, even as the warm summer sun would inevitably flow into cold autumn winds and merciless winter storms. After all, after even the harshest of winter comes the comforting warmth of Spring. Such is the rule of all four seasons. And, each new passing season that you've spent by each other's side would only lead to new happy memories for you to look back on and smile as you flip through Saeran's diary whenever he wanted to share his new colorful scribbles with you. The promise of happiness that you two have made to each other all those years ago never faded away with time: it only grew stronger with the soil you've provided through your shared love and patience toward one another even in the darkest of times. Much like nourishing a flower, your love was growing and changing with time.
But... it wasn't Saeran's love that bothered you so much that you barely left the bed throughout the day. The source of your distress was a much more complicated enemy to beat since it was your own mind trying its damnest to make your life as miserable as possible. Some days were better than others. In fact, there were even some days when you felt like you were truly happy: like you could finally see the world for what it truly is, instead of focusing solely on depressing things that would only bring you down. And some days felt like you were living a nightmare. So, like the aftermath of any nightmare, all you could really do was hide yourself away inside of your comfy bed, tucked away in a bundle of blankets and pillows, and hope that it would all pass you soon enough.
You made an effort to shut out and ignore the insecurities and doubts that buzzed inside your head like a swarm of angry wasps, and were determined to destroy the enemy that dares to oppose them. Why did your own brain view its rightful owner as a foe to be tortured like this, you had no idea. But, you had no choice but to deal with it one way or another. Not like you could turn off your own thoughts, even if you wanted to.
It's possible that lying to Saeran was a bad idea rather than relying on him for support during this challenging time. No, it was definitely a bad idea for you to isolate yourself like this, but you did it anyway. You were slowly learning to accept your own shortcomings, to stop punishing yourself for messing up every once in a while, but... today, it seems like all you could do was make one stupid mistake after another. So, you refused to reach out for help, your own isolation serving as a twisted form of self-punishment you were inflicting onto yourself for being so weak-minded. It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't helping you in the slightest.
As you lay there, listening to the clock tick by, you slowly but surely fell into the self-doubt pit that you knew all too well. It was no surprise to you to find Saeran in the center of it all. You hated your mind for twisting the truth like that. However hard you tried to fight it, eventually, you were simply in too deep to get out. These hateful thoughts of yours were like a swamp full of thick tar that would never let you leave unscathed, once you were unlucky enough to fall in. Picking apart every kind word he ever said to you, trying to expose the lies that weren't even there to begin with, convincing yourself that he was just confused... It was painful. You didn't want to do that. You didn't want to do that to Saeran and you didn't want to do that to yourself, either. But, you couldn't help but question this newfound happiness you've found with him by your side.
Did you really... deserve someone as warm and loving as Saeran in your life? Maybe he would have been better off without you and your depressive episodes. After all, he wanted to see the world, to be happy and free... and you were only holding him back from achieving that. What is he getting out of babying you, as if you weren't a full-functioning adult who should be able to take care of themselves just fine? Sure, maybe you did help him sometimes... but, it was all overshadowed by your worst days that he had to withstand by your side.
As you immerse yourself further in the messy blankets, you shut your eyes tightly, helplessly hoping that this pathetic attempt to hide from your cruel thoughts would finally be successful. You hated being confined to your own bed like this, but you hated the idea of getting up even more. On days like these, you tended to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror or... looking at yourself overall, really. Your choices weren't ideal, but you'd much rather spend your day hating your character, rather than your body. So, burying yourself into the blankets up to your nose until you couldn't see much of yourself was the only option that worked best.
It felt like every single thing about you was wrong, both in and out.
But, Saeran viewed you differently. You were his love, his angel, and his promise of happiness. And, even despite your worst traits being at play here, just the thought of his tender smile and soft voice made your chest ache in a much different way than before. You missed him. It felt so silly. You isolated yourself like this on purpose, but here you were, already desperately hoping for him to come in and chase all of your demons away with his warm touch like he always did.
So, so stupid...
As you were about to shed a few tears, the bedroom door swung open, causing you to almost fall out of your bed from shock. Maybe getting so tangled up inside of your blankets wasn't as functional as you initially thought after all. Either way, you were way too embarrassed to show your face, since you didn't have to guess on the identity of this bold intruder of yours. There was only one person in the entire world who could come barging in into your room like this whenever you were having a hard time. Knowing full well how stupid you were behaving, you hid your head under the blanket regardless, staying quiet as the soft pitter-patter of footsteps hurriedly moved closer and closer to you.
Well, 'be careful what you wish for', as they say. Still, if you said you weren't happy to see Saeran close by, you'd be lying. Just knowing he was right there was enough to dull your negative thoughts, albeit slightly. If it wasn't for your inner shame for hiding yourself away from him like this, you would have already nuzzled up close to his chest, seeking the comfort that his closeness would bring you. But... truth is, you felt guilty.
You made a promise to each other that you wouldn't lie about things like that. That you would trust each other to lend a helping hand whenever one of you needed it. And yet, you did exactly the opposite of that. You knew Saeran wouldn't get upset with you for this, but that did not take away your own shame on the matter. Maybe you were being way too harsh on yourself for something terribly small, but you didn't care. It didn't feel right to throw yourself at him for comfort when you were the one who let things get this bad in the first place. It felt fairly selfish even.
You could hear a slight shaky breath from him as he carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, the warm sensation of his palm touching the top of your head that was hidden beneath the blanket making you shiver. Really, you felt even more silly for tearing up at something so insignificant. It wasn't like you to be such a huge crybaby over a small thing like that. It's not like his kindness is something new to you... so why is your chest aching this much?
Caressing your head, Saeran was the first to break the silence between you, not a single hint of anger or disappointment present in his soft voice. "I knew something was wrong... My love, why didn't you tell me?"
You bit your lip, feeling your tears slowly forming an ugly, damp spot on the pillow that you buried your face in. "I told you I was just tired... How did you even know something was wrong? I thought you wanted to plant those tulips you showed me today."
Idiot, what are you saying-?
"I had a feeling that you needed me, and I couldn't stay still, so I rushed to check on you. I'm happy I didn't ignore this bad feeling of mine. I'd hate to know you were suffering all alone like this."
"That sounds like you, haha." You chuckled softly, imagining him dropping everything to run straight to you. It was such a strange phenomenon, this special connection of yours. While you'd like to say you were annoyed by it, it really wasn't true at all. Somehow, by some weird force of nature, you just knew whenever one of you needed someone by their side. It is how you found him by the lake right before his father could do the unthinkable, against all odds stacked against you. And, it's really no surprise to you that it worked in the opposite direction just as much. Truly, it was such a bizarre thing.
But... did you deserve to share such a special connection with someone? This all felt... too good to be true. Too good for someone so dark and bland like you. If you told Saeran this, he wouldn't take it seriously. You didn't know who was right between the two of you. It's hard to figure out the truth when your brain is playing all kinds of cruel tricks to keep you distressed and anxious at all times of the day. And, try as you might to shut out all your emotions in favor of staying rational... It didn't work all the time.
Well... no reason to hold back now. Saeran was already aware that something was wrong, and he would remain by your side until he was confident that you were fine. And, it's not like you wanted him to leave anyway. Call it weakness or clinginess on your part, but you couldn't possibly let go of him now that he was right there for you hold onto.
"I just... I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm fine, you're fine, and everyone else is fine. So... I should be happy, right? I should be bright and cheerful, exploring the world with you. But I... can't. I have no reason to feel so horrible and disgusting, but I still do. And I can't do anything about it! I don't... I don't want to hold you back from your happiness just because I can't even function properly, so... I decided that I should just wait it out on my own this time around. But, heh, as you can see, I can't even do that right." Bitter laughter left your lips in a suffocating burst, being accompanied by a series of hiccups and a new wave of tears now streaming freely down your cheeks. You were glad he couldn't see your face right now. You probably looked really gross, considering that you didn't even leave your bed to freshen up or brush your teeth today. God, you were such a mess. "I don't know what I did to deserve someone so kind and patient like you, but I... I feel like I'm just using you to feel better about myself, and I hate it. I shouldn't be crying like this over nothing and making you pity me. Not when I'm the only one who's at fault here. I don't want to feel like this, Saeran. I... I hate feeling like this. I want to be normal and just- Live my life peacefully. With you. But- But why can't I stop thinking all of these bad things? It's driving me crazy..."
After you released all of this negativity into cohesive words, instead of holding it in until it swallowed you whole, you felt relieved. But, another part of you felt guilty for burdening Saeran with all this pessimistic talk like this. You didn't need to look at him to know that he had a deeply troubled expression on his delicate face. Either way, you didn't try to push him away or deflect what you just said. There was no reason to. His hand momentarily stopped its movement, and you swallowed, feeling the bedsheets shift ever so slightly, as he hunched over you.
The next time he spoke, his voice sounded much closer, making your heart inadvertently skip a beat. "Can I... Can I see you, Y/N? Please. If you don't want to, that's okay, but... you need some fresh air to help you breathe better."
Pursing your lips together, you nodded, clutching the pillow to your chest. You didn't resist as he carefully found his way around the blanket that was wrapped so tightly all around you, you wondered how you even got this tangled up in it in the first place. Finally, after a few awkward movements of your numb limbs, you could feel the weight slipping off of you and fresh air rushing into your lungs.
Wow. He was right. It was definitely way too stuffy in there for you.
Saeran didn't hurry you to get up, but instead sat beside you quietly and gently caressed your back without saying a word while you cried into your pillow. You knew he wanted to say something. The only reason he was so silent is to avoid overwhelming you with his words. As always, he was way too patient with a crumpled mess like you. Either way, his tenderness did motivate you to eventually lift your head up from your scrunched up pillow, sniffling and wiping away at your damp cheeks.
"Do you feel better, my love?" He quietly asked, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. There was nothing but worry in his bright mint eyes.
Your voice was too shakey for your liking from crying, so you nodded again and leant into his warm touch. You did indeed feel better after getting all of this negativity off your chest, as well as getting some fresh air for you to breathe. But... of course, this didn't mean you were feeling okay in any way. You still felt embarrassed and upset about this whole breakdown, and these heavy feelings wouldn't just disappear any time soon.
Saeran gave you a small smile and now fully cupped your cheek, but he didn't go any further than that. So respectful, as always. He sounded so calm and composed amidst your raging emotions that you automatically hang onto his every word, like he was your lifeline. In a way, he truly was. "Good. I'm sure it was painful to keep everything bottled up like that... Do you want us to talk about these feelings you're dealing with right now?"
"I think... I might be too tired for that. But... We can talk about this tomorrow morning. Maybe." You mumbled awkwardly, feeling a bit self-conscious about the prospect of discussing this incident any time soon. Saeran was right, though. You two needed to talk about it, or things would only get worse, not just for you, but for him as well. It was unusual. Accepting someone's love and care like that, as well as being so open with your inner struggles. But, you did want to try. If not for yourself, then for Saeran.
Sniffling the last of your tears away, you did your best to keep your focus on the young man beside you instead of any insecurities still buzzing around inside of your head. "And... I'm sorry. For not telling you anything right away. I should've-"
Before you could finish your thought, he gently kissed your forehead and now his other hand was also cupping your other cheek. All you could do was gasp, feeling your heart pick up the pace from such a lovely gesture. Leaning back, he rested his forehead against your own, steering all of your attention back onto him and him alone. You could see how much he wanted to say: it was all written so clearly on his features in the dim lighting of your bedroom.
"There's nothing to apologize for, flower. I know you're not ready for us to talk about this now, but... It's okay to not be okay sometimes. My love for you does not require you to be someone else or do anything you don't want to do. We can figure it out. Not because we have to, but because we want to. I love you as you are, just like you love me as I am. I know it can be hard to believe in that sometimes, especially when all love you've experienced before was conditional... But, we can take it at one step at a time. Together. We have all the time in the world now to love each other and ourselves as we are. And, I'll be by your side on every step of this journey, holding onto your hand tightly whenever you need me. That's what we promised to each other, right?"
You had faith in him in your heart. He wasn’t saying this out of mere pity or any sense of obligation to you... No, those were his earnest thoughts and feelings he decided to share with you on his own accord. It was okay to mess up sometimes, and it was okay to have bad days. Saeran had his low moments just as much as you did, you knew that fact all too well. You never judged him for that. You never judged anyone out of the RFA for having bad days of their own. So, why should he do that to you?
Maybe... you let your inner demons get the better of you today. It's not a good idea to punish yourself for that, though. After all... the thought of you being a burden unworthy of love wasn't planted into your head on its own. It was simply easier to justify the hurt you were given by believing that you deserved it, even if it didn't make any sense in hindsight. It was hard to accept that all the bad things you had to endure happened without any grand reason to them. It didn't feel fair.
"...Thank you. I was in great need of hearing something that." You acknowledged, letting out some of the tension that was still in your system with a deep sigh. It wasn't easy. Some part of you still protested and squirmed deep within your mind: demanding to be heard, urging you to throw away his hopeful reassurance and interpret it as nothing but a lie. But, you did your best to ignore it. Thankfully, now Saeran was right here to hold you in his arms, and he was a hundred times better than even your most favorite blanket.
He appeared to appreciate your response, his smile widening ever so slightly before ultimately pulling away. Although, it wasn't long before his hands took hold of your shaky palms, his fingers interlocking with yours in such a simple, yet lovely way. "I'm happy I could help, my love. Now... why don't I help you take a warm bath? I'm sure you feel exhausted. And, it'll be good for you to eat something."
"That would be lovely, Saeran." You said, slowly but surely gaining some of your former confidence back.
Maybe you'll never get the picture-perfect happy ending you've envisioned for yourself in your daydreams. Maybe you'll never be that ideal version of yourself you were striving so hard to be. Maybe you'll never know for sure whether or not you were on the right path in life at all. But, perhaps, your reality didn't have to be ideal for you to find solace in it. This moment in time wasn't perfect or pretty at all, not from a traditional standpoint. And yet, your chest swelled with a warm, ticklish sensation as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the water to fill the space and listening to Saeran talk about his day.
Maybe, you didn't need to be perfect to find solace in the little things life offered you, even in the darkest of times.
Even though you had heavy limbs, burning eyes, and a pounding headache to deal with, you found peace, a tired smile slowly appeared on your face. The feeling of Saeran's hands in yours, the sound of his voice, the view of his warm eyes gazing into yours with nothing but care and affection swimming within them... It all felt so imperfectly soothing to you.
#mystic messenger#mysmes#mysme#mm#saeran choi#ge saeran#saeran x reader#ge saeran x reader#tw insecurity#tw low self esteem#tw depressing thoughts#a comfort fic but i really really like how it turned out so decided to post it <3#also listening to 'safe and sound' made me emotional jftjftht#no thoughts just saeran cupping your face into his hands like you're the most precious thing in the universe
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(Don't You) Steal My Thunder
my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles
Tyler Owens x fem!reader 7k words
summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.
a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.
again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth
masterlist | twisters masterlist
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.
He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.
Tyler Owens is a problem.
And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.
Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.
And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.
It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.
Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.
Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.
But he's just such a fucking asshole.
You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.
Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.
Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.
Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.
Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.
You're just doing your job.
The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.
You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).
This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.
And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.
Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.
“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”
“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”
Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.
“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”
His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.
“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”
The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.
By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.
So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.
“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.
Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.
“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.
"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."
You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.
"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.
"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.
His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.
"I don't drink."
You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.
Not that you want to.
"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.
"I don't drink with you."
He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.
"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.
"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."
His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.
"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."
"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."
He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.
"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"
He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.
"I'm not a fan of you."
Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.
"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.
For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.
"I try."
With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.
"I'd still buy you a beer."
"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.
...
You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.
The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.
This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.
It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.
"Hey, weather girl!"
You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.
"What do you want, Owens?"
Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.
"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."
He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.
Not that you'd been about to.
Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.
You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.
You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.
You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.
It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.
Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.
You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.
"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.
"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."
"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."
You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.
"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)
"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.
The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.
"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."
He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.
"Cameras are off, I swear."
You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.
God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.
You're so, so stupid.
"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."
...
You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.
Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...
But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.
When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.
"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.
"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.
"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."
"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."
You pull your eyebrows even further up.
"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"
"Nope. Not familiar."
But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.
You just shake your head and turn away from him.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."
...
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.
The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.
Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.
That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.
Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.
It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.
You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.
But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...
"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.
"What?"
"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."
You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.
"You're shitting me."
Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.
"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.
His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.
It takes you a second too long to realise why.
"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"
"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.
"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."
"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."
The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.
"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."
You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.
"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"
"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."
He is.
He's right now. He's right usually.
Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."
You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.
He puts the bill flat on the bar top.
But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.
"The price just went up", he says.
You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.
"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"
He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.
"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.
A kiss.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.
Especially with that forecast.
The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.
"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."
...
At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.
"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.
"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."
"But it collapsed this morning."
You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.
"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"
You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.
"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."
...
You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.
You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.
You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.
He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.
And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.
It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.
"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.
"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.
"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"
"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."
Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.
"Alright, so we wait."
You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.
"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."
You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.
It makes reading close to impossible.
Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.
That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.
You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.
You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.
Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.
Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.
But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.
You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?
So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.
For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.
"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.
"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."
Well, it's hard to break bad habits.
Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?
Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.
"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.
Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.
You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.
"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:
"So I'm Watson, yeah?"
Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.
It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.
You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.
"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.
Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.
And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.
"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."
"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.
Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.
You want more of Tyler Owens.
"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.
"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"
"I could never."
"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."
His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.
"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."
His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.
"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."
And then your lips are on his.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.
He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.
You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.
"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.
"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.
But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.
You chuckle against his lips.
"If you feel it, chase it, right?"
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Meng Yao, the raging feral ball of issues that he is, reacts by panicking a lil bit cause FUCK. What do you mean these two now know he’s pregnant? This is exactly what people have always accused him of being —a whore whose achievements are dependent on opening his legs prettily. But also, he’s pregnant??? With Lan Xichen’s pup??? The man that made him feel like he was living in pure marital bliss in the middle of war???
He’s swooning because he knows that he can’t have that child if he wants his plans to go on, but the thought of erasing the only remaining proof of what he had during those days with that perfect, heavenly alpha that treated him as if Meng Yao was the one carved out from the purest jade makes him want to rip his own scent glands off and die choking on his own blood.
Nie Mingjue is frankly very confused about the look on Meng Yao’s face because he thinks he understands the distress that his deputy is feeling but he also knows that there must be a lot he’s missing on. And the souring of Meng Yao’s scent in that moment doesn’t help his confusion and maybe his hurt too, if you want to make this 3zun with a respectfully pining Nie Mingjue which yes, it definitely is like that, please and thank you. Confusion that stops Nie Mingjue from seeing the initial shock and elation that Lan Xichen seems to be feeling at first, after reuniting with the beautiful, strong, and incredibly smart omega that managed to make the best out of the worst moments of his life. And on top of that, it turns out that this precious man that got Lan Xichen’s heart soaring and singing at his every dimpled smile is bearing his child??? He wants to kiss him and scent him so badly and go run to wherever his uncle may be to tell him that he is marrying this man.
And then, he sees A-Yao’s face. And suddenly, he feels like all of the air has been punched out his lungs and he wants to throw up. What if Meng Yao hadn’t actually wanted to share his rut with him? What if it had all been a delusion concocted by his feverish lovesick head? He smells A-Yao’s distress and feels guilty, dirty and has the sudden urge of ripping his robes off, and letting Meng Yao claw at his chest and rip it open, so that he can yank his heart and guts out of Lan Xichen as punishment for his heinous crimes.
A/b/o au in which Nie Mingjue detects a drastic change in MY's scent during the Sunshot Campaign. Such great changes in the scent of an omega are often indicative of their condition: and Meng Yao is revealed to be pregnant.
Not knowing what to do, Nie Mingjue request Lan Xichen's assistance in broaching the subject to Meng Yao. However he fails to tell Lan Xichen exactly who his omegan deputy is.
So, when Lan Xichen realizes it is Meng Yao - the omega that shared his rut with whilst hiding from the Wen- who is pregnant, the only thing he can say is "A-Yao is carrying my child ⁉️"
#this idea for an AU really got me running#I’m sorry fish if this is way off what you were thinking#I honestly can’t see this going any other way than that of a hurt/little comfor very angsty fic full of misunderstandings#like imagine if NMJ saw and smelt their horror in this scenario? knowing him he would jump to the worst of conclusions#‘did one of them took advantage of the other? MY is terrorized amd I don’t eant to believe that LXC would have done that’#‘but I will rip his throat off if that’s the case cause hOW DID YOU DARE DO THAT? A rut is NO EXCUSE LAN XICHEN!!’#MY would try to make things right but seeing LXC’s pained face would also make him eant to flee cause what if HE took advantage#of LXC’s rut? He doesn’t want to believe that but now he NEEDS to get rid of this thing before long because he doesn’t want NMJ to accuse#him of taking advantage of LXC’s state of mind and position once he learns the truth and NMJ/LXC interpret this as MY being afraid#and vulnerable and in need of a way out of this situation (which would make perfect sense for NMJ wanting to write that referral to JGS#thinking that MY wouldn’t feel comfortable being LXC’s friend’s deputy)#would this scenario make for a reversal of 3zun dynamics where NMJ resents LXC and vows to protect MY from him? Possibly#the other possibility I see depending on NMJ state of mind is him seeing that those two are bright a fucking mess without really knowing#the details? he would assume that the sex was consensual but not the pregnancy and he would feel conflicted about the possibility of it#beign a ploy? but at that point he still believes in his trusted smart and efficient deputy and his distress when learning about the pregna#makes him believe in MY not having ulterior motives. So in short he decides to intercede between these two dumbasses#and maybe he falls even deeper in love in the process though he refrains from acting on it cause he knows he’ll die young#meanwhile LXC and MY would be pining and yearning for each other wangxian style with their canonical soft touches and fleeting looks when i#public. LXC would constantly act like a kicked puppy and MY would feel SO guilty for deciding not to bear that pup#jin guangyao#meng yao#lan xichen#xiyao in hiding#mdzs fic ideas#potential 3zun if you like that though you can totally ignore that part and headcanon NMJ as an aro/ace autistic obsessed with his saber#againg fish sorry for turning your ‘LXC takes MY to Gusu and mates him and they live happily ever after’ into this angsty mess
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𝙊𝙃, 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙄 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝙎𝙄𝙉𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝙄 | 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀
a/n: i haven't started the show yet, so I'm not familiar with his character in this show. please forgive my cluelessness during this fic.
summary: the reader goes to the church to confess to the priest that she recently sinned. however, the father decides to have some fun of his own.
warnings: mention of religion, 18+, missionary, loss of virginity, oral(fem & m receiving) fingering, nipple play, praise kink, pet names like doll,sweetheart,baby, mentions of anal, spanking, degrading, corruption kink, almost caught
˖⋆࿐໋
growing up in a religious household, i have developed a deep appreciation for my catholic roots. whenever I feel overwhelmed by sadness, anger, or depression, I find solace in the church.
today i couldn't help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt. i found myself hanging out with a boy, and things got a bit physical. even though we didn't go too far, i couldn't help but feel ashamed. i had promised to wait until marriage, but these uncontrollable desires keep creeping up. i've decided to go to the church to talk to the father about my recent activities and confess my sins.
as i made my way to the church, i felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. i'm meeting with father charlie, a young and attractive man who’s also the priest at the church, which is not something you typically expect in the church. i haven't had a chance to speak with him one-on-one yet, so im feeling a bit apprehensive about what our conversation will entail.
i open the big doors to the church to see it completely empty just to find charlie sitting down on one the church benches.
“hello there” he calls out.
"father, there's something weighing heavily on my heart that I need to share with you," i said as I hurried to sit next to him.
i can feel that irritating uneasy sensation in my stomach. I didn't even give him a proper greeting. the guilt was so overwhelming that it made me stumble over my words.
"what is it y/n?" he turns all of his attention towards me, his big brown eyes digging into mine, as if anticipating something significant.
“i don’t know who to talk to, i can’t talk to my parents about this especially my own father. i’ve been feeling really guil-“
he interrupted me with a gentle smile and placed his hand on my shoulder, assuring me that everything would be okay and letting me know that he was a safe person to talk to.
“father, i need to confess something. i kissed a boy, and he kissed me back. he started to touch me, but i stopped him. i made a promise to the lord, and i feel terrible for breaking it”
as the tears welled up in my eyes, i instinctively dropped my face into my hands, seeking refuge from the overwhelming emotions.
"hey, it's going to be okay," charlie said in a gentle, caring tone as he stroked my hair, trying to comfort me.
“now tell me, did you guys fuck?”
as those words reached my ears, i couldn't help but look up at him, shaking my head as the tears continued to fall.
oh no, i hope he's not going to make me feel even worse.
“no father i swear-“
"shh, no swearing in the church," he said, raising his finger to his lips with a smirk. the irony wasn't lost on him, considering he had just dropped the f-bomb.
it was so quiet for a whole minute, and I started feeling really awkward. i had come all this way hoping for some advice or comfort, but it seemed like he just didn't care.
as I stood up, charlie grabbed my arm, forcing me to sit back down. “i didn't say you could leave. where do you think you're going?”
he replied coldly, smirking, “always so forgiving. it's kind of pathetic”
i stared at him, utterly perplexed, not really sure what he was talking about.
“father, isn't forgiveness what the church is all about?”
“sometimes, but in this case, i really want you to show me how sorry you are. otherwise, you're just going to keep committing the same sin over and over again. you don't want that, right? you don't want your parents to find out how desperate their innocent little girl has become, do you?"
i couldn't believe what i was hearing from charlie. i never expected him to act this way, let alone say things like this. i was at a loss for words and didn't know how to react. all i could do was nod in agreement. the last thing i wanted was for my parents to find out.
“father, i think i should go”
"why are you suddenly so shy, doll?" his hand on my chin made me tilt my head to stare at him.
"you don't think i notice how you look at me during mass when I'm speaking on the stand? you've become so needy that you sometimes cross your legs to stop yourself from feeling those emotions you want to avoid so badly," he says while caressing my cheek, gently rubbing his thumb on my bottom lip.
"i know you think of me taking you to the point where you can't even think straight, cum dripping out of you while i use you for my pleasure. you don't think i notice that? the way you avoid eye contact with me”
“i don’t know what your talking about father”
charlie’s hand rested lightly on my thigh, sending a spark of electricity coursing through my body. as his fingers inched toward the top of my skirt, pushing the fabric up just a little, my breath caught in my throat. each slow movement seemed to stretch time, heightening my senses and igniting a thrilling tension i couldn't ignore.
it felt deceptively wrong—the kind of reckless abandon that sent a shiver down my spine—but the anticipation was intoxicating, and I craved more. my mind raced, caught between instinct and hesitation, as the warmth of his touch settled into a deep hunger, one i found increasingly impossible to resist.
i glanced up, searching his eyes for a sign, a cue that this was more than just a fleeting moment. we held a playful challenge, a promise of the passion we both knew was simmering beneath the surface. my heart raced with excitement and fear, the boundaries of right and wrong blurring into a sweet confusion. with every breath, i felt the world around us fade away, lost to the undeniable chemistry pulsing in the air. i didn’t want to stop it; I wanted to let go completely and dive headfirst into whatever was coming next.
“do you want this as much as I want this?" charlie's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, causing my heart to race in an unholy rhythm. i felt his gaze resettle upon me, a weight both thrilling and terrifying. my mind was a jumble, each beat vying for clarity as i struggled to focus on anything but him.
his eyes—the deep pools of mischief and longing—held me captive, swaying me like a fragile leaf in a rising storm. the blueprint of his desires flickered behind those intense brown eyes, and my cheeks burned with a shameful blush. I could hear the hymns of the service fade into background noise, a distant echo that paled against the ferocity of this moment.
what was wrong with me? i shouldn’t be feeling this way, not here—certainly not in a house of worship. my skirt brushed against my legs, reminding me of the innocence i used to wear like armor, now discarded in the face of this ravenous yearning. charlie wanted me. craved me. it was a dangerous temptation that had taken root within me, whispering sweet nothings that urged me to give in.
the candlelit corners of the church bathed in shadows, the lure was overwhelming. each passing week at mass had been an exercise in restraint, a careful balancing act over a precipice of emotion. seeing him near the altar in his crisp shirt—as though god himself had stitched him together purely for me—seemed more sublimely wrong every time.
as his eyes swept over me, i wondered if he could sense the tension glittering between us, thick and electrifying like charged air before a storm. j licked my lips, torn between the sanctity of the aisle and the allure of his promise. "I need you, doll. I can't deny it anymore," he murmured like a sin freshly minted from temptation's forge.
i felt a tumultuous wave of conflicting emotions surging within me. the whispered prayers seemed empty as an overwhelming desire ignited like an uncontrollable inferno. "father” i gasped, but the air escaped me, filled with forbidden possibilities. despite everything, all i could focus on were his lips drawing nearer to mine, as if the world around us faded away, leaving only the intense magnetism between us.
in that sacred moment, beneath the flickering lights, surrounded by silence begging to be heard, we hovered on the brink of something vast and insatiable. would we give in? would grace curdle into passion? ignoring the whisper of consequence felt like my true struggle—should we tiptoe across this brittle line, or confess that hunger has only one unyielding answer? together.
as I processed what was happening, a surge of warmth enveloped me, and i found myself surrendering to the moment. his lips danced across the sensitive skin of my neck, light as a whisper but charging the air with electricity. a small moan escaped my lips, betraying the whirlwind of emotions stirring within me. i could feel his smirk, a secret shared just between us, brushing against my skin, simultaneously teasing and thrilling.
his hand roamed over my thigh, a firm yet gentle grip that sent a shiver cascading through my body. "that's it, such a good girl for me," he purred, his voice a low whisper that thrummed like a melody in my ears, both lustful and tender. each word dripped with a promise, igniting the fire kindling deep within me, blurring the boundaries between desire and surrender.
lost in this intoxicating closeness, i reveled in the sensations; the world beyond shifted and faded, leaving only his teasing caresses and the seductive intimacy that enveloped us—a balance of power and vulnerability, inviting me to cross the threshold into unknown territory.
"father, i really don’t think we should be doing this here. It just doesn’t feel right. what if we get caught?" i watched as charlie sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration, clearly torn between desire and caution.
"you’re right," he replied, his voice low and raspy, "but it’s late, and I don’t think anyone’s going to wander into the church at this hour. just relax, sweetheart."
i hesitated for a moment, then nodded, the thrill of the forbidden sending a shiver down my spine. i reached out, intertwining my fingers with his, bringing his hand to my lips and sucking gently on his long fingers. his eyes locked onto mine, filled with a primal hunger that made my heart race. i could see it in his expression—the desperate need to claim me, to tear away any barrier between us.
the air was thick with anticipation, and i could almost feel the weight of his longing as he shifted closer, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. the dim light from the stained glass windows cast a soft glow around us, amplifying the intensity of the moment. i could sense the tension building, a thrilling mix of danger and desire, as he leaned in, caught in the magnetic pull that seemed to draw us together like moths to a flame.
we were on the edge of something wild and reckless, and in that sacred space, everything felt possible.
charlie withdrew his fingers, his intention clear as he replaced them with his warm, teasing tongue. it slipped into my mouth, exploring with a fervor that sent electric shivers through my entire body. he held my neck gently yet possessively, urging me closer, deeper, igniting a fire that burned between us.
i kissed him back with equal intensity, a thrilling battle for dominance that left us both breathless. the taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and urgency that made my heart race. every flick of his tongue ignited a wave of pleasure, pooling low in my belly and making it almost impossible to think straight.
the heat of the moment consumed me; i could feel my body responding instinctively to his every move. the sweet tension built inside me, and i knew i needed him—needed to feel him against me, to drown in that wild connection we shared. my panties were already soaked, a testament to the overwhelming desire coursing through my veins.
charlie pushes my panties to the side allowing his already wet fingers from my saliva to dance around my clothed heat growling like a predator hungry for its prey “let me show you how a real man is supposed to make you feel darling, those little boys wouldn’t know how to handle something so precious like you. i can make you feel so good you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for days”
as he pumps his fingers in out of me the sweet sounds filling up the quiet church was enough for the both of us to go crazy “more father please” he smirked at my neediness removing his fingers out of me putting them up to mouth to signaling me to suck the sweet juices off of his fingers then going back in for a quick rub of my clit
charlie stood up getting ready to unbuckle his pants but before he could even do that a voice filled up the quiet room which caused me to jump and act quick closing my legs and hiding my exposed area “father charlie i’ve been looking everywhere for you” an older lady shouts from across the room as she appears to be in desperate need of his help
he sighed and i took that as my sign to leave before we both do something we might regret later, charlie keeps his gaze on me the entire time “hi, ill be with you in a moment” he spoke up the lady stops in her tracks wondering what a young woman was doing here at almost midnight with the priest of the church she was curious but nothing crossed her mind as she was desperate to talk to the priest
charlie followed me out of the church closing the door behind us “this isn’t over sweetheart” he placed a kiss on my forehead as he walked back into the church.
˖⋆࿐໋
a/n: omggg i hope you guys like this!! i’ve spent almost a day and a half working on this just for you all especially the person who requested this, i will be making this into a little series since it was getting pretty long! anyways i really hope you guys enjoyed this, remember feel free to request anything!
#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas alexander chavez x reader#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez#nicholas chavez imagine
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heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea
𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇
pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader
genre: hurt/comfort
content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation
cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3
a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!
"it's like i never see you anymore!"
suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.
suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.
as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"
it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.
you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.
you really miss your boyfriend.
but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.
"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.
"i didn't say that, rin."
"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.
you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."
"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.
the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?
as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.
"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."
the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.
"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."
the door opens and slams shut.
the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.
subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.
meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.
"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."
"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."
as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.
he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.
"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"
what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.
he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."
"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."
"yeah you're right."
he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.
as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.
here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.
he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.
no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.
and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.
at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.
"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."
"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."
he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.
so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"
he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.
you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?
and then it hits him.
not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.
he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.
"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.
you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."
"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.
"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."
he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.
he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.
so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.
you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.
you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.
right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.
i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.
"i’m sorry," he begins.
you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."
"and you’re right."
you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"
"you’re absolutely right, y/n."
he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.
"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."
you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.
"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."
you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.
"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."
"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."
"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.
"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."
"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.
he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.
even after everything, you still love him.
he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.
you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.
"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."
© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu comfort#haikyuu angst#haikyuu angst to fluff#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu fluff#suna rintaro drabbles#suna rintaro#suna x reader#suna x you#suna angst#suna fluff#suna imagines#rintarou suna#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#suna rintaro imagine#suna rintaro x reader#suna fic#suna rintarou#suna rintarō#haikyuu!!#haikyuu suna#suna headcanons#haikyuu smau
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Breathless | h. j.
➸ synopsis: Was it dumb? Yes. But when has that ever stopped you and Jisung?
➸ starring: han jisung x female reader
➸ word count: 2.5k
➸ general content: best friend!jisung, accidental Friends With Benefits reference, both characters are dorks, jisung is kind of a menace(uncharacteristically good with women), smut
➸ warnings: sexual content, swearing, fingering, protected sex, very tame bondage
➸ rating: 18+ MA
➸ author’s note: watched FWB today and was gagged when the literal opening line of this fic was used in the movie in the exact same context. it came out in 2011! how does that even happen—anyways enjoy this old fic since it reminded me of it lolllll
♫ this fic has a soundtrack! Feel That - Junny
“What the hell are we doing,” he giggled into your mouth, peeling off your outer layer as he pushed you into the comforter. Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his flannel, desperately trying to get rid of the unnecessary fabric between you two.
“I don’t know, but I kinda like it.”
It had all happened so fast; one moment you and Jisung were lazily watching whatever talk show that the tv program was playing and the next, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.
This was probably the most reckless decision you two had decided to make since you became friends in middle school. Why on earth would best friends be trying to undress each other in the late hours of the night?
“Wait.” You pushed him away slightly and let go of his shirt. “Is Hyunjin coming home anytime soon?”
“No.” Jisung chuckled, lifting the edges of your band tee. “Him and Seungmin are on Jeju Island, they won't be back until next week.” You nodded, raising your arms for him to take off the shirt before pulling his neck towards you again, resuming your heated kiss.
The rest of his buttons came undone quickly, your hands desperate to feel his burning skin under their fingertips. He leaned back to take the fabric off, chucking it to a random corner of his room, before freezing at the feeling of your hands tracing his abs.
“When did you get built Ji?” You whispered, staring at the subtle definition in his skin. A light scoff left his lips before he rolled his eyes, leaning forward to cage you with his toned arms.
“I’ve always been this way baby.” He raised an eyebrow, eyes trailing all over your exposed skin.
“Are you trying to be sexy?”
“Is it working?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
You didn’t have to tell him twice, him attaching his lips to yours immediately and letting his hands roam your skin.
As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way his fingers traced foreign trails up to your jawline. Touching you like this wasn’t something you had previously wished he did, but now you felt like you should have been doing this all along. His skin felt so warm on top of yours, your fingers pressing around the back of his neck to gain leverage into the kiss as he groaned in contentment.
Your bra came undone rather quickly, and you’re reminded that Jisung is somehow very experienced, a thought that made you visibly shudder under his fingertips.
“Wait,” you broke the kiss, and he took this opportunity to kiss your jawline, each press leaving you more and more desperate for his touch. “I don’t really know any of your likes or dislikes…in bed I mean.”
His lips hovered over your neck for a moment, as if he were trying to decide what he should and shouldn’t tell you.
“I like hair pulling and scratching,” he answered, lips pressing under your ear. “And don’t call me anything weird.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you nearly moaned, trying not to lose your mind over how his thumbs were dipping under the waistband of your jeans and massaging your hip bones just right.
“And you?”
You fell silent, face blooming red as you remembered what turned you on the most. And he noticed quickly, stopping his leisurely painting session on your neck at your reluctance.
“Hey, this is a two way street you know.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes, seemingly ignoring the beet red tone covering your cheeks. “I’d feel horrible if I overstepped-”
“...bondage.”
“W-what?”
“I have a bondage kink-”
“I know what you said,” he laughed, leaning off of you to rest on his heels. “I’m just shocked that sweet little y/n likes being tied up-”
“Shut up,” you mumbled, looking away from the topless brat.
“If you insist.”
His leather belt came off next, nearly making you scream in both excitement and horror from his newfound knowledge about you. But he simply set it aside, climbing back over you and dipping back into your neck.
You instinctively let out a sigh as his lips went back to caressing your skin, his hands now smoothing their way up your waist as well as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.
“Hickeys?” He asked, though positive that you wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing so.
“Please.”
The boy wasted no time in landing one right at the curve of your breast, lips working hard to redden the skin underneath them to get the color he wanted. Your hands rushed to his head, holding him tight against you with tufts of his ash colored hair between your fingers.
He let himself relish the sensation of you tugging on his roots for a brief moment, humming against your skin before he stopped sucking, reaching for the belt that he left beside you.
You could feel your skin tingle as he removed your hands from his hair, holding them in one hand as he wrapped them with his belt with the other, before expertly tying them with the leather band. He then raised your arms so they were above your head on the pillows, leaving your torso completely at his mercy.
“Can you keep those there for me baby?” His voice had a sultry kind of quality to it; one that you couldn’t find in yourself to resist as you nodded breathlessly.
He then went back to the task at hand, licking and biting and sucking everywhere on your upper torso, making sure to leave enough marks for you to not think that what was happening was just a fever dream. And he made sure to revisit your lips every so often, swallowing all of your little moans every time he thought you’d earned it.
Working his way down, he tugged the rest of your bra off, letting it drop to the floor and kissing around your left nipple while flicking his thumb over the right. You gasped, immediately pulling on the belt restraint around your wrists.
“Sensitive, are we?” He smirked, and you’d sworn that if it were anyone else, you’d choke the hell out of them.
But this isn’t just anyone. This is Han Jisung, and guessing from the surprises this night had already brought, he’d probably like that.
So you settled for a moaned yes in response, and what a good decision that was; not even a second after he had his lips wrapped tight around your nipple while letting his fingers play with the other. Your back arched prettily off the comforter, pushing your chest further into his grasp as he chuckled against your skin.
Thighs pressing together as to provide yourself some friction, a senseless string of pleads left your mouth, begging Jisung to please get on with it because it felt like your body would burst into flames if he kept going. But he didn’t stop, no; the hand that was pulling against your nipple dipped lower to find the button on your jeans, a small indication that he did intend on going further tonight.
Even though you were already over the moon with what had happened already.
Whether he was being intentionally slow or it was just difficult to undo your jeans with one hand, you did not know; but he finally worked the button free, quickly pulling the zipper down afterwards to allow room for his hand that would need to fit inside momentarily.
“Let’s see what we’re working with here,'' he mumbled, smoothing his hand from your abdomen to the top of your underwear, pausing slightly to check for any hesitance before pressing on.
“Oh, god…already?” Your face couldn’t possibly have gotten any redder as he ran a lone finger along your slit, catching the wetness that pooled there immediately. “We’re just getting started-”
“Then hurry up, Ji,” you whined, clenching your thighs to get some friction.
He smiled, suddenly aware of his weak spot for your begging before finally adding friction to the place where you wanted it most.
This wasn’t his first time pleasuring a woman– you were aware of that much –but it took him a minute to figure out what you liked and where you were the most sensitive, essentially playing with you until you made the right sounds. Once he started getting it right however, it finally dawned on you just how much trouble you were in, your chest heaving and toes curling at his ministrations.
It wasn’t long before he changed the game, bringing two fingers inside of you and curling them just so, and an obscenely loud moan left your mouth to his delight.
“Good?” He questioned, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t moving too fast for you as he leisurely pulled his fingers out.
“G-Good, don’t stop-” You were cut off by another moan, and decided to give up on speech altogether as you felt another bubble up in your chest.
He took it a step further, lightly leaving pecks across your bruised chest, and then a step further, purposefully pressing his palm against your clit every time he delved into your core.
Not only was it good, it was also unfair and even embarrassing, considering how quickly he was bringing you to your peak.
He had you twisting, clenching, whimpering and writhing under his grasp within three minutes, and even if he stopped it wouldn’t prevent the white wave of euphoria that was approaching.
“God, Jisung, I-”
You broke under him right then and there, shaking and gasping as your release overtook you in blissful waves of pleasure. Jisung helped you through it, pressing his fingers into you until your moans turned into whimpers and your shaking into trembling.
It took you forever to completely come down from your high, but Jisung used this time to get himself ready, leaning back on his heels and unzipping his own pants as you tried to catch your breath. You could almost feel him smiling at you before you opened your eyes, chest still heaving as he flashed that shit-eating grin in your direction.
“That good, huh?” he chuckled, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough so his length could spring free.
“Oh fuck me.”
“One step ahead of you.”
A cold shiver ran up your spine as you finally registered what he was doing, your core clenching on nothing despite it being only a minute since you came. In any other situation, you would have snapped back at him for being so snarky, but with the hollow feeling in your core being somewhat uncomfortable, you figured that keeping your mouth shut would have him filling you faster.
One condom later and you were seconds away from the anticipated moment, watching through lidded eyes as he carefully brought your wrists down to untie them. Your pants were next to come off, and his soon followed, but only halfway; you assumed that your impatience had finally caught up to him.
And you couldn’t even blame him—he looked painfully hard after the show you had put on for him.
He pumped himself only three times before leaning over you again, and then a strange look crossed his face as he froze.
“Wait, I’m okay to do this right?” He asked, looking between your eyes and where your hips met. “I just realized I never asked-”
“Han Jisung if you won’t I will,” you pleaded, urging him on, and he gave you a crooked smile before drawing in a deep breath.
He pushed inside of you slowly, ignoring every painful urge he had to quickly bottom out inside you and alleviate the burning need in his lower abdomen. A string of hushed curses left your mouth; this wasn’t your first time, but it might as well have been with how much the feeling of being stretched out was overwhelming you.
He made it to the end with a small whimper, dipping his head forward into your shoulder as he tried to steady himself.
“Can I move?”
“Knock yourself out,” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut from the sensation of adjusting to him fully.
He started out slow, each drag of his cock against your walls eliciting a low whine from you as he rolled his hips against yours. One hand pinned your hips to the bed, while the other held him up next to your head, giving him the option to lean down and capture the skin of your neck between his teeth whenever he pleased.
“You feel so good, fuck,” he groaned, grinding deeper into your core with every thrust. At his words, you could only pull his face down to meet yours, silencing him with a kiss in hopes that he would talk less. Otherwise, his pleasure-ridden voice alone would bring you to climax.
He happily kissed away all of your moans and whimpers, sucking on your bottom lip until you both were panting too much to keep a cohesive liplock.
His hips were starting to slam against yours now, that erotic sound of skin on skin slapping finally reverberating around the room and joining the chorus of your moans. Your toes curled, body barely able to process the pleasure building inside of you as moans helplessly tumbled out of your lips.
“Tell me what I h-have to do to get you there,” he choked out, worried that he might not get you to finish again in time.
“Fingers- ah, please-”
He knew exactly what you meant, moving the hand that was on your hip to your clit and gently rubbing it in the way that had you moaning his name before.
His breaths became heavy and his thrusts started to lose their rhythm; both things that you were sure were signs of his release drawing near, but you could barely focus on that when yours was practically hurtling toward you, threatening to spill you over the edge before he broke.
“Jisung, I c-can’t—” Words finally left you as you felt your whole body start to tense up, and Jisung let out a loud moan from the sudden tightening around his length.
“Come. Come all over me baby,” He whispered breathlessly, using the last bit of his stamina to thrust harder into you, until you couldn’t take it for another second.
You came undone for the second time that night, shaking and moaning beneath him as he pounded into you twice more, before he caved as well, just barely holding himself off of you as he emptied his load into the condom. Careful to not wait until he was too soft, he pulled his length out of you, subsequently falling onto the sheets next to you as he caught his breath.
“So I take it we’re not just friends?” He mused, a cheeky grin poking out from under the sheets. You slapped his back playfully, rolling away from him before he caught your hips with his hands, pulling you flush against his warm chest.
“Shut the fuck up.”
#stray kids#stray kids fanfiction#skz#skz fanfic#skz fanfiction#stray kids smut#skz smut#Jisung#han jisung fanfic#skz han fic#han jisung x reader#han jisung fluff#han jisung fanfiction#han jisung smut#han jisung fic#han jisung imagines#han fanfiction#han jisung#jisung fluff#jisung fanfiction#skz jisung#stray kids jisung#jisung x reader#jisung smut#jisung imagines
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When Light Fades
Synopsis: To strive for immortality has severe consequences.
Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Reader is a subject for Urbanshade / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Experimental deaths + limbs being cut off / Takes place before the events of Pressure and leads up to it / Hadal Blacksite Lockdown event (Gunfire + death) / Cursing
Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune
(Saw a few fics of a reader who was an experiment like Sebastian here, so I decided to cook up my own. Well- This was just gonna be an idea, but as I was making this, the update came out and I felt more inspired and decided to try my hand at how the lockdown went…kinda. I’m actually really proud of this one.)
A new subject had arrived a few days ago. They moved him right next to your cell, and he looked to be around your age. You spotted the number on his shirt. “Z-13.” He mostly minded his own business and you did as well, but it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to someone else. So finally, you tapped on the window that separated you to get his attention.
At first, he wasn’t interested in talking to you but he soon started to come around and (try to) listen to you. The window muffled your voice, and he couldn’t catch your name. You couldn’t either, so in your head, you only called him Z-13. Maybe he did the same with your own number.
It was strange. Despite the complications of communicating to each other properly, sitting by the window with him was oddly comforting. You wondered if he felt the same as he leaned on the window. To him, you were always smiling when your eyes met. It was like you weren’t bothered by the situation at all, or maybe it was a mask to hide your fear. Maybe it was meant to comfort him as you were here before him. Maybe you knew what was coming, and you wanted to tell him to not be afraid.
Z-13 sometimes spotted you in the corner of your cell with a saddened look on your face. Sometimes it looked like you were about to cry. He wondered what happened that led you here. Was it the same reason as him? Were you robbed of your future just like he was?
Eventually, you were taken out of your cell and Z-13 watched you leave but not without giving him a smile and waving to him. He slowly lifted up his hand and slightly waved as you left your cell with a few people in white lab coats who were accompanied by two guards.
You were gone for a few hours and Z-13 had almost fallen asleep until he heard a gentle knock. You still had that same smile as you looked at him. For a moment, he smiled too.
Two days after you were placed back into your cell, you began to lose your vision. It was getting dark and blurry. You couldn’t see Z-13’s face anymore. By the seventh day, your vision had completely faded. Despite this, you somehow knew when the lights were on and when they were off. It wasn’t because of the faint click you could hear sometimes, you just knew. You can even sense a few people nearby. Z-13 was among one of them and was the closest, meanwhile the others were a bit further away. You can sense one roaming the halls as well.
You can even feel Z-13’s gaze on you. You wondered if he gradually noticed your change.
You had a few more tests the week after, and by the third week, you lost all feeling in your arms and legs. You can’t move them, you can’t feel if someone had touched them, nothing. The researchers had to drag you up into a wheelchair every time they needed you for another test. They even had to feed you as you couldn’t do it yourself.
You can feel eyes on you once again. Was it Z-13 looking at you? You hear faint banging and a faint voice. He must’ve noticed how you haven’t moved at all for a few hours and was trying to get your attention. You turned your head towards the general direction of the noise, and the banging stopped. He says something, but you don’t quite understand. You wish you can hear him more clearly.
You sense a few people approaching and hear your cell door open. Their footsteps get louder and they discuss something amongst themselves. One of them is really close to you.
“Can you feel me here?” They would ask.
You shook your head.
“How about here?”
No.
“Here?”
Nothing.
You only feel cold. You feel so cold. Were you dying? Is this what death feels like?
The person stands up and steps away. You hear them exchange a few words. Another one approaches you.
“Can you see us?”
No. You suddenly hear a click.
“Can you see this light?”
You nodded. Nothing else was said as you hear them leave, though they remained outside your cell for a while before walking away. You faintly hear Z-13 call out your number, at least you think he did.
…What was your number again? Why can’t you remember…
One day, Z-13 watched them take your body and leave without much discussion. A few hours went by. Hours turned into days, then into weeks, then into months. You never returned. The room was left empty and the lights inside the cell had turned off. Soon enough, it was his turn. Seeing only a glimpse of what you had to endure, he was afraid. He didn’t know if you were in pain as you never showed it, but he saw how the light in your eyes faded.
Z-13 suffered the effects of the experiments done to him alone.
Ten long years had passed since then. Z-13’s body had reformed into a mix of an anglerfish, a blue whale, great white shark, sea snake, silver spinyfin, mantis shrimp, and an extra unknown creature. He got what Urbanshade wanted, but he was a deemed a failure because of what he became. He was able to breathe underwater just like they wanted, but he was just some thing, some monster they created. He could barely look at his own reflection.
He’d overhear a guardsman talking and an idea suddenly comes to him. Once he was in the place he needed to be, he did not hesitate to act on it. Ten long, torturous years… Maybe he could finally be free if all things go according to plan.
He pretended to fall under the effects of the anesthesia and remained still for a while until the time was right. He was left unguarded. He wakes up and cautiously checks around, spotting only one guardsman.
Swift, yet still painful. It was the least they deserved. He quickly checked their body for something, anything that could open the locked doors and finds a keycard. Perfect. He grinned, quietly “thanking” Urbanshade for increasing his rank to MR-P. He knows where those creatures are being kept in. He’ll hold onto the shotgun as well.
With the keycard, he opened and freed as many as he possibly could before the guardsmen eventually surround him. Chaos would spread around the facility rapidly as the creatures relentlessly slaughtered those who got too close, who were in the way, or who had angered them for what they did to them. For locking them up for their sick experiments.
It didn’t take long for Z-13 to be identified and tracked down by other guardsmen. Once he emerged from the water, there was already a squad ready to greet him. He growled, wanting a taste of sweet revenge. He was already aware he can pack a punch thanks to the mantis shrimp DNA.
He was suddenly hit with the flash of a bright light. He covered his eyes as he yelled in pain.
“Arghhh!! You-!!” He almost fell back but he quickly caught himself. He got a quick glimpse of the one responsible for that flash. Without hesitating, he aimed his gun to them and pulled the trigger, “Piece of shit!!”
The blood splattered onto the floor and walls. Before his eyes could fully readjust and could pull the trigger again, he felt a few bullets pierce through one of his arms and some in his shoulder. He dropped the shotgun as he fell into the water where he emerged from, immediately swimming to cover as they shot into the water. He was lucky enough they missed.
He cursed, gripping his bleeding arm. He’ll leave a trail like this. He needs to move. It was hard to understand what the guardsmen above were saying, but no doubt it was further orders to follow and hunt him down. Right, after the results of his experimentation, it was later refined into a much more desired state. Majority if not all of the guardsmen now can breathe underwater.
He huffs, making up his mind and swimming away to find a safer place and hopefully something to patch up his wounds. With his uninjured arm, he manages to punch a path through in an attempt to escape them.
He looks back occasionally and listens for anything coming before continuing to wherever the path is taking him. He finally finds an opening and cautiously emerges from the water. It was quiet, mostly. There’s some distant noises, but they don’t sound like guardsmen. Once confirming it was clear, he climbs out. He hisses again, gripping the arm that was shot.
One way would potentially lead to more company, while the other leads further into the facility. An area that’s been cleared out already, so that’s where he heads to. The halls were empty. He can’t hear anything close by. There has to be something he can use here, something they left behind. Searching through every drawer and every room he could get into, sometimes even knocking down a door, he found everything but a medical kit. He kept some of the things he found though, like another gun he found and a flashlight.
He comes across a hallway he never often passed by. There was one unlocked room and the door opens upon detecting his presence. Some of the lights were knocked out already, but the glow from the tube in the other side of the room was still on. It was another containment cell for a creature they captured, one he doesn’t remember. He crawled his way inside and the door shuts behind him. His anglerfish lure blinks on as he gently pulls on it.
On one of the desks, he spots a medical kit and wasted no time to disinfect and wrap up his wounds. Then he notices a document that was left on the desk beside it. His ear-fins twitched as he glanced to the tube then back to the document. Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he opens it. His eyes widen once he sees a picture of you inside and some information.
Z-8. [First Name] [Last Name].
A subject used for an experiment to achieve immortality with the turritopsis dohrnii, otherwise known as the immortal jellyfish, as well as regenerative abilities of an octopus. Z-8 went through a series of “deaths” to study how the resurrection worked, but it turned out to be very similar to the actual jellyfish itself. They’d cut off limbs while the subject was still awake to study the regenerative abilities, and due to their poor execution, the subject had died to blood loss during some of those procedures. Still, the limbs grew back and immortality was achieved along with the ability to swim and breathe underwater, but the form the subject’s body took was undesirable and grotesque.
He looked up at the creature in the tube as he closed the document. This thing is you. A strange mix of a jellyfish and an octopus… But you’re still alive. Your loss of sight was due to your head forming into the hood of a jellyfish, almost appearing to be a veil, and the tentacles had stretched out from beneath it. Losing the feeling of your arms and legs were due to them forming into oral arms. Your torso leading up to your neck and stopping just above your mouth before it formed the hood.
He wants to get you out, but he’ll need to get you underwater. With the way your body had morphed, it wasn’t one to traverse easily on dry land. He’ll have to carry you as long as you don’t accidentally sting him. That’ll be a serious issue.
The card he has should have clearance to release you. Considering the part of the facility he’s in, there has to be a place big enough for you. One that leads outside too. Once the tube is drained and you descend to the bottom of the tube, it opens and he catches you before you fell onto the floor. The texture of your skin now made it a bit difficult to keep a grip on you but he managed to find a way that wouldn’t allow you to slip.
It doesn’t take too long for him to find a hall with its ceiling collapsed and its floor leaving a hole that leads into the floor below. That room was filled to the brim with water, and no doubt the next few rooms were to be as well. One of those rooms has to have broken off, leaving an opening to escape the facility. He carefully sets you down into the water but gets startled when you suddenly gasp and panic, wiggling out of his grasp. This caused him to drop you and splash into the water.
“H-Hey! Wait!!” He calls.
The waters settles for a bit until it bubbled and you reemerge from the water. You didn’t exactly look up at him until you sensed his light. This was the first time he gets to talk to you without a glass between you two. With how your body is now, however, he won’t be too surprised if you lost your voice as well.
“[Name], right?”
You nodded. Part of him was relieved your memory was still intact, so he continued with a smile. One he hoped you could sense in his voice.
“I’m sure you probably know me as “Z-13.” You and I were placed in cells beside each other?”
You nodded again.
“My name is Sebastian,”
Beneath the hood, he saw you smile, “H..Hello… Sebastian,”
You still had your voice.
I don’t think you guys know how happy I am with how this turned out. I don’t know why but I do really like this one.
I might end up using this concept for an OC if I’m being honest…
#🌑 // the moon provides#sebastian solace x reader#sebastian x reader#roblox sebastian solace#pressure sebastian#sebastian solace#roblox pressure#pressure#roblox
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Obkk ghost marriage fic where after kannabi bridge, the Uchiha decide Kakashi can keep the eye but only if he agrees to marry Obito's ghost in a traditional ghost marriage.
(This also means he officially joins the Uchiha clan. Maybe lean into how he knows very little ab his own clan history, so there's like some minor complexes playing off of that as he ultimately takes up the Uchiha name and traditions, effectively abandoning his own -> which could also play interestingly into his negative views of his father at that age. This also means he moves out of his clan compound and into the Uchiha district— which is actually really good for his mental health)
Kakashi doesn't argue, he sees it as the ultimate atonement actually. He's incredibly dutiful but especially so at that age. He'd take it dead fuckin seriously and be the best ghost bride possible. Instead of constantly going to the memorial stone he has like a proper shrine to honor him in the house where he leaves his favorite foods n stuff
Like little 13 year old widower Kakashi w Rin as his witness rip
I'm not the biggest Rin fan bc her canon characterization feels like that usual boring "girl crush turned martyr" (naruto misogony strikes again rip) and I've yet to find any interpretations that really strike me— with one exception.
I don't remember the fic, and Rin only showed up for part of it, but I remember being rlly taken by her in it. It highlighted her being as struck by Obito's death as Kakashi, with her an official mednin working overtime in the hospital as the war ramped up. Also it gave her a smoking habit!! I can appreciate a well played addiction to cope in text. Idk I just read it and kinda went "woah she suddenly feels like a real person to me"
But like, that for Rin here. She's working triple overtime in the hospital, day and night. The war is getting worse and worse and some nights she comes home w her gloves still stained in the blood of her patients from back to back surgeries where her patients died on the table. They have her listed for eye trauma specifically after her successful transplant for Kakashi, and she's proving to be invaluable for the patients w eye based kekkei genkkai. She wants to go into specifically researching and healing for eye bloodline limits, but is struggling to convince the clans to allow her access to that information.
Kakashi's new home is closer to the hospital that Rin's parents, and stuff w her parents is starting to get... tense. It hurts them, to see their daughter struggling like this. To see her coming home with dulled eyes and bloodied hands. To be waken by her nightmares and then not know how to comfort her.
Rin slowly starts staying over with Kakashi more and more and after a while she's just kind of fully moved in, but neither of them actually really talk about it
Let them be best friends w a kind of codependency on eachother that would be concerning if not for how it's very clearly keeping both of their heads afloat as days go on and things get worse.
Queerplatonic besties Rin and Kakashi sharing the same bed so when they wake up screaming they can help eachother go back to sleep easier. Rin likes it when Kakashi summons his ninken to sleep w them. They sleep easier w eachother bc they feel safer knowing they're there to have eachothers back, just like they would on the field
Anyways, Kakashi moves out of his clan compound and into the Uchiha's. He's neighbors with a little 6 year old Shisui and is kind of picked up by the scruff by a lot of Uchiha who have really weird complex feelings ab Obito's death (many of them feeling bad ab not having reached out before to him / seeing him die so young, and then projecting that onto Kakashi)
Kakashi and sometimes Rin kind of accidentally becoming a babysitter for Itachi both bc of proximity and bc Mikoto is friends with Kushina
On that note -> Minato does not really get the ghost marriage thing. He's civilian born, and the practice is really old and hasn't really been used since like, warring states era. So Minato is kind of weirded out and very "uhhh. Are you SURE this is what you wanna do?" But Kakashi seems set, and like, if it helps him cope???
He is however very supportive of getting Kakashi out of the fucking tomb of his father's house and into the much more populated and lively Uchiha clan compound
Minato makes Kakashi ANBU and designates him as his home guard specifically to keep him off the battlefield. He lowkey does the same to Rin (minus the ANBU part) positioning her in the hospital and making sure she's getting that good good mednin education. If pressed on why she doesn't go out as a field medic, he insists it's because she shows too much promise as a healer to risk— not now that they've lost Tsunade. If Rin can grow to be even half as good as she is, it'll be worth keeping her away from the fighting.
Neither Kakashi nor Rin feel very good about this decision (tho hypocritically, they agree w it when it comes to the other, bc ofc they do)
Rin doesn't die bc I say so and Obito does a comedy spit take when he inevitably learns he's legally married to Kakashi under the eyes of the Sage, Amaterasu and all.
#birds fic talk#naruto#kakashi hatake#hatake kakashi#obito uchiha#uchiha obito#rin nohara#nohara rin#obkk#kkob#obikaka#kakaobi#ghost bride au#naruto au#uchiha clan#uchiha#minato namikaze#namikaze minato
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short christmas fic idea - beth decides to rig the arsenal secret santa because she knows leah has a crush on reader and beth is tired of listening to her pine but not act on it
Secret Santa
Leah Williamson x fem!reader
summary: beth is tired of watching you and leah dance around your feelings for each other, so when she sees the opportunity to help, she jumps to it
“Someone has to lock them in a closet I swear to ya.” Beth shakes her head, watching you and Leah across the room basically heart-eyeing one another, acting like you’re in your own little bubble.
“They really are that oblivious, aren’t they?” Steph asks, already knowing the answer, having watched the two of you dance around your feelings for one another.
Both Steph and Beth watch as you both talk and laugh with bright red cheeks and sheepish smiles. Almost the whole team has had to watch you two almost flirt your heads off but no one make a move.
“Alright girls, since christmas is right around the corner I thought before break we could do a little secret santa.” Renee states in the front of the room where the whole team lingers, conversing in their own groups.
All the girls nod their heads enthusiastically while Beth looks as if a light bulb lit above her head. Steph quirks her eyebrow at the forward, knowing that look all too well.
“I would love to help. I can write up the names and go around for everyone to pick their giftee.” The blonde smiles innocently but Renee doesn’t look too into it and would love to have the extra help.
“That would be wonderful, Beth. Thank you.”
Once Renee walks off, Beth turns over to look back at the Australian across from her with her lip between her teeth and the sides of her mouth reaching from ear to ear.
“Alright, spit it out. What’s up your cheeky little sleeve this time, Meado.” Steph rolls her eyes, resting her chin on her hand against the table, waiting for the girl to yap out her master plan.
—
“-And that’s how Alex and I ended up all the way up in Manchester.” You shake your head in amusement at the blonde’s story, having been sharing story by story with each other in the corner of the room while comfortably resting on the small sofa.
“You two are the weirdest people I know.” You claim, laughing at Leah who just shrugs with a sheepish smile.
Out of nowhere, Beth comes over and plops in between you and the defender, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in closer to her, smushing your bodies together. Leah grimaces in discomfort while you just raise your eyebrows in curiosity.
“Hello, you two. How are we feeling on this gloomy but glorious day?” Beth asks, turning her head rapidly to look at the both of you at every second.
“It’s fine.” Leah blanks, shrugging off the other blonde’s arm while scooting as far as she can to the arm of the couch.
“Well, that’s all I needed!” With that the girl scurries off back to her side of the room with Steph, leaving you two at a loss with what just happened.
You both sit there in silence for a minute, watching Beth talk and continue to look in your direction. Leah can already sense something is up, having admitted her feelings for you to the girl a few weeks ago. Leah knows Beth likes to stick her nose in places it doesn’t belong, but at the same time, Leah can just be overthinking it.
“I take back what I said. She is the weirdest person I know.” You slap your hands on your lap in conclusion and direct your attention back to the girl sitting next to you.
Leah nods but you can tell her head is somewhere else, watching as she stares into the abyss without blinking even once. You don’t question it considering one of your best friends just plopped by you and left without another word, making you confused as well.
But Leah’s thinking about something completely different. You. She’s thinking about how beautiful your laugh is, how bright your eyes shine when you talk about something you love, and especially how caring and considerate you are of other people.
She’s harbored these feelings for months now, and it’s eating her alive every day not telling you. She just doesn’t know how to. She doesn’t want to risk you not liking her back and ruining the close friendship between you two even though a blind person can see both of your feelings
“Earth to Leah!” The blonde snaps out of her haze when your hand waves in front of her face, trying to see if the girl has even been paying attention to which you got your answer.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Leah gives you a sympathetic look for not listening but you wave it off with a smile and a shake of your head.
“I said everyone is picking their person for secret santa. Let’s go!” You hold out your hand for the older girl to grab and when she does you all but drag her to where all the girls gather.
As Beth goes around the room with the hat full of names, you sit with Leah in comfortable silence, watching the rest of the girls secretly unveil the names of the people they get.
“Anyone specific you’re hoping to get?” You ask the blonde, hoping to start some sort of conversation.
“No, not necessarily. What about you miss ‘can’t decide anything’?” Leah teases, nudging her shoulder into yours with a grin as you roll your eyes at the jab.
“I do not have that much trouble making decisions thank you very much. But the answer to your question is no, I am not hoping for anyone specific.” The older girl hums even if she doesn’t believe your first statement at all.
Beth clears her throat and gestures to the hat in front of Leah, signaling for her to pick a scrap with a name hidden inside it. Leah glares at the girl in front of her and begrudgingly picks out a white slip, but right as she begins to open it, Beth loses her balance and knocks the paper out of the defender’s hand, dropping it with the others on the floor.
“Oopsies, clumsy me. You know they always call me clumsy Beth.” She jests, picking up the pieces and putting them in the hat with the help of Leah.
“No, they don’t.” Kyra jumps in, knitting her eyebrows in confusion but Steph just shakes her head, signaling not to meddle.
Once all the slips are back in their given space, one remains in Beth’s hand.
“Here. I kept my eye on the one you dropped.” Beth smiles, handing it to Leah.
Leah doesn’t think twice about it until she opens the paper, revealing your name in cursive. She knows her cheeky friend has played a part in making sure she got your name, but secretly she was hoping to get you. Maybe, just maybe this is the way to somehow show you her longing feelings.
—
“Care to tell me who you got for secret santa.” You smirk, crossing your legs on the sofa that lies perfectly in your apartment.
“You know the point of secret santa is for it to be kept a secret.” Leah points, slumping down right next to you, stuffing a ham sandwich in her mouth that she generously hooved through your pantry and fridge to make.
“It’s only between the two of us.” You roll your eyes, scooting closer to the blonde, so close your legs knock against each other.
Leah’s stomach flutters when you place your hand on her knee and look at her with your irresistible puppy dog eyes. She squints her eyes at you and continues to chew on her sandwich slowly.
She leans in slowly and just when you think she’s about to tell you.
“No.”
“Ugh, you’re no fun.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest and dramatically falling backward, hitting your head on the back of the sofa and slumping in an awkward position with your neck crooked in the most uncomfortable manner.
Leah and you decided to both hang out at your place like usual but instead of going out or hanging with others, you decided to stay back and watch movies and shows together. You’re both secretly grateful to be alone in each other’s presence instead of harboring many other of your friends with you.
“Tell me.” You try again.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
“Hmm,” she pretends to think, “no.”
You finally decide to let it go, realizing you’ll never get through the stubborn girl. You both make conversation through the night, laughing and giggling at the silliest stories, even ones that aren’t even that funny to the stranger’s eye.
How much you wish to gather the courage to admit what you feel for the girl.
—
“It is the day we have all been waiting for, the secret santa gift exchange!” Beth announces dramatically as the rest of the team cheers.
“Who will be starting?” Vic asks from the corner, sitting with Alessia and Kyra.
“Ah, I thought we would start with Kim giving her present since she’s our lovely captain.” Beth gestures to the midfielder who glares back at her but stands up nonetheless.
The presents scatter all over the room while everyone rips theirs apart on their turn and smiles in joy. You have already given away your gift to Stina but have yet to receive one.
Having been so caught up in the laughter and talk of your team, you haven’t noticed your best friend nervously standing outside of the group, holding a bright-wrapped present.
“Alright, somehow we have stumbled into a stop, so who else is left?”
Leah hesitantly steps up and hands you the present with a nervous smile, shocking you that she is, in fact, your secret santa.
Thanking her, you slowly rip the wrapping paper to reveal another box you have to open, and when you do, you’re consumed by utter shock. Everyone gauges your reaction, causing it to quiet down in the room as they watch emotion flash over your face.
Your fingers trace the wooden detail of the antique you haven’t seen in years. When you open the small chest, a small tune begins to play lightly, breaking the sudden silence in the room.
A small tear runs down your cheek as you just stare at the gift, completely admired by it. Some of the girls look around in confusion while others just sit silently and watch you with an empathetic eye, hoping you’re not hurting in any way.
You suddenly remember where you are and clear your throat, standing abruptly and excusing yourself from the setting, moving with haste outside of the building. Leah is quick to follow your trail, worried that she has upset you in some way.
When Leah finally catches up to you, she keeps some space between you two, watching as you stand there, looking at the stars with the music box still in hand.
“I can’t believe you remembered.” You say softly, feeling her lingering presence without even as much as a turn off your head.
“I remember everything about you.” You turn around to meet the blonde’s eye, her having moved closer to you when you addressed her presence.
“Do you do that with everyone?”
“Do what?” She asks, knitting her eyebrows together in focus and confusion.
“Remember every little detail. The fact you found the exact match of my grandma’s old music box and even remembered me speaking about it. No one has ever paid this much attention to me.” You look down shyly, feeling embarrassed at the blunt confession.
“It seems to only be you. I’m sure you find it…”
“Weird.”
“Romantic.”
Leah looks up at you to meet your eye, mouth opening agape in surprise. Your cheeks flush red due to the cold breeze but also in fluster. You both stand in silence with soft smiles adorned on both of your faces, eyes melting into one another’s.
“I find it romantic,” you restate in reassurance, “along with sweet, generous, and warmth.”
The space between you and Leah closes in as you both lean in slowly. Your eyes flutter down to her lips and quickly lock back onto the older girl's gentle blue orbs, but right as you begin to lean in, Leah pulls away quickly.
“I’m sorry, I must have read this wrong.” You mumble, stepping further away to create a bigger gap, giving the space you think the defender needs.
“No, not at all.” Leah fetches your hand, squeezing it with a soft smile. “I have been waiting for this for so long, so I want to do it right.” She admits with a smile, causing you to now have a look of shock.
But after understanding, you return the smile and the soft squeeze of your hands.
“So would I have the honor of you accompanying me on a date, my lady?” The blonde bows down jokingly, making you bark out a laugh at her gesture.
“You will, my lord.” You say, extending your hand out with your palm curved down, allowing Leah to grab it and place a soft kiss on your skin.
You both break out into a laugh, holding onto each other’s arms and noses almost touching. Your little bubble is soon cut off by a bang on the window and a yell from inside the house.
“Steph! My plan worked. It worked!” Beth runs away from the glass, arms up in cheer while heading towards the team.
#leah williamson x reader#woso x reader#woso fic#woso imagine#woso#leah williamson#christmas fic#christmas
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Okay soooooooo
How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz
ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)
Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait.
Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.
You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.
Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.
“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.
The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.
You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.
“How’s it hangin’?”
“...Fine?”
“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”
You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.
You nod in response.
Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”
You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?
You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him.
He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.
You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.
He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”
He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you.
Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.
—————
Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington.
You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.
You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched.
You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.
“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.
Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.
Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”
You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”
“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”
Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.
“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”
“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”
Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.
“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”
Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.
“Shit— Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.
Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”
“It’s okay.”
“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”
The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.
“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”
“You’re hurt.”
“It’ll go away—”
“Let me get you an icepack.”
“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”
Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”
You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet.
Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.
He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.
“Does it still hurt?”
You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”
Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”
Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I scared you.”
“Everything scares me.”
It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face.
“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”
“About what?”
“Why you flinched.”
You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.
You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”
“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”
You scoff a disbelieving laugh.
Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.
“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”
His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could.
Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”
Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”
You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.
“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”
You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”
“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble#king!steve
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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁
part two. a/n | hiii! new blog but not new to wbb or writing, i’m infact true to this! masterlist & blog introduction soon but i thought i’d get a fic out first (this is lowkey long but bare with me).
summary: in which the pleasure elicits a confession.
warning(s): smut with plot! fingering, fear of being caught, praising, pet names, scissoring, some angst at the end, angst at the end, idk paige is absolutely obsessed with you..
pairing: paige bueckers x fem reader
You hadn’t particularly expected yourself to get sexually involved with the star athlete of UConn, but it kinda just happened.
You’d met Paige Bueckers through Azzi Fudd during yours and hers junior year. Hitting it off with her and the team was no problem. You got along with everyone and it was one of the many qualities that could be admired, but Paige found a sense of comfort with you.
During the start of her recovery, she found it hard to go back to going out like she used to. But the one night she’d decided to make an appearance for the first time since tearing her ACL, she met you and it changed everything. You had morals that changed her perspective, a bright smile that lured her in, and confidence that wasn’t too cocky to be deemed unattractive. You were everything.
From hangouts with the group to study sessions and finally hanging out alone, you found yourselves entirely comfortable with one another. So much so that the team had gotten so used to seeing you together, that they asked where the other was when you were by yourself.
One night when Paige had decided to stay over at your dorm, you’d been wrapped up in a conversation about relationships and the complexity that came with them. You both had similar ideas just like you did on nearly everything. Paige not being able to really commit to anybody with her busy schedule, and you just simply not being into dating. It never went well for you. The last girl fucked up and if there was one thing you always got sick of, it was waiting for people to change.
An idea sparked your mind, and just like always, you spoke it. It was a suggestion that would possibly change your dynamic forever, but as Paige watched the words slip out of your mouth and your eyes dart between her lips and eyes; something you always did but it seemed different this time, she couldn’t say no. It felt like a bad idea. She really liked you and wasn’t sure where that would lead the two of you, but she would’ve taken any part of you she could get her hands on.
Now, a little less than a year later, it was safe to say your dynamic had changed. Completely. Paige was at the highest point in her career, her popularity only expanding just everyday. Your casual sex continued, but the more intimate you got, the more Paige found it hard to deny the feelings she felt for you. She distanced herself. You didn’t talk the way you used to and surely didn’t hangout the way you used to, because those hangouts always turned into more.
You missed Paige. You had her but you didn’t have her, and although you knew what your suggestion would bring, you still couldn’t pinpoint why she couldn’t open up to you anymore. Why she avoided conversing with you alone. It was an abrupt change from the comfortability she’d showed when everything first started, exploring each other in ways past imagination because that’s what the agreement was for. But everything changed so quickly, and Paige found more meaning in the words she whispered while reaching her high, more meaning in the flirty jokes, and more meaning in your lingering gazes. She over-analyzed everything, and it was fucking driving her crazy.
Nobody knew. You couldn’t even fix your lips to tell Azzi how you’d been hooking up with her best friend. You were sure everyone had an idea though; paige could hide a lot of things physically but the glint in her eyes when she looked at you was undeniable, and although KK and a few others had pointed it out jokingly, you two brushed it off like it was nothing.
Currently, you’d been sitting at a table with some of the team members at the bar. It had been getting late despite you only being on your second drink and not feeling a bit of it, engrossed in a conversation with Aubrey about all kinds of things. Sometimes you wished you were a lightweight.
A few minutes later, Paige slid onto the stool next to you, but you didn’t acknowledge her. You hadn’t talked to her in a little bit over a week, and finally decided that if she wanted to play the distant game, you would too. She seemed a little tipsy to you, her continuous movements you caught in the corner of your eye proving so. You could admit she looked good when she first walked in. She must’ve worn braids to practice or something because her wavy locks had been flowing over her broad shoulders, a look she knew you fell weak to.
Your attention averted at the sound of Azzi’s voice. “I’m heading out!” She announced loud enough for her friends to hear. They bid her with goodbyes as you began to gather your things, stopping at the feeling of Paige’s hand creeping up on your thigh. She turned to you, a look on your face that you could’ve mistakened for a slight pout.
“I wanna take you home,” was as all she said, and your eyebrows furrowed for a moment. You understood her words, but found it hard to comprehend as her thumb began stroking the crease dangerously close to your center.
Regaining composure, you cleared your throat. “‘S okay. I rode with Az, she can take me home,” You replied almost sharply. You didn’t question her silence over the past week, not in the mood to cause a scene; just responded like everything was normal, yet one thing you could never hide was an attitude.
As you turned to get up, content with the few words exchanged, Paige twirled your stool back around to her with her opposite hand, stopping you. “I wanna take you home,” She stated again, her voice low but firm. You knew Azzi had been stalling as she waited for you, so as you locked eyes with Paige’s piercing blue hues, you knew what you had to do. What felt right but so wrong.
Averting your gaze, you whipped your head to Azzi’s direction, immediately catching her eye and jerking your head to the side slightly to indicate that Paige would be taking care of you (in more ways than one). She gave you a knowing look, causing you to roll your eyes and spin back around to Paige. She had her suspicions, but they weren’t confirmed so it didn’t matter.
As soon as you did so, Paige easily stepped down from the barstool, grabbing your hand so she could help you down, a bigger challenge for your height. “We’re heading out too,” She stated simply, and the crew eyed your exchange, little chuckles escaping their lips. The entire group had their conspiracies about you two, simply because they’d never seen Paige act like this around any other girl.
Saying your goodbyes, you hadn’t realized Paige’s hand still interlocked with yours as she looked around the bar, seemingly antsy and ready to go as you said goodbye to her teammates. As you dragged her out, she glanced down at your hands, quick to pull them apart and cover it up by reaching to slip her lanyard out of her pocket, the ringing of the keys interrupting the silence.
You only stared at her a second longer before sighing, licking your lips as you crossed your arms. Your position didn’t falter the entire way there, and the walk from the campus bar to Paige’s dorm felt like ages.
“Is there a reason for that lil’ attitude you got?” Paige chirped, the two of you barely making it through the door as she walked in before you, her back turned as she flung her keys to the counter. You scrunched your face up as you shut the door behind you, your arms finally uncrossed.
“What are you talking about?” You asked in fake oblivion. You were aware of the sharpness in your tone when you first replied to her. Your demeanor the whole walk here even.
Paige only chuckled, turning around swiftly as she leaned against the island. “Heard it there too,” she said, pointing out the way you’d responded. “I do something?”
It was your turn to chuckle, audibly shocked that she had the nerve to even ask such a thing. “How’d you decide that tonight was the perfect night to have sex with me again after ignoring me for a week?” You ask rhetorically, a smile on your face. You wanted to punch the stupid smirk off of hers. She was too cocky for her own good, and you knew your words would only ignite that trait.
“If you wanted me sooner you could’ve hit me up, you know this,” She replied, her arms now crossed over her chest as her tongue swarmed her mouth. She was amused.
You scoffed, walking closer as you spoke which was something you tended to do when you were upset. You got in people’s faces. “That’s not the point, Paige.” You stuttered out, looking for the right words. Only Paige could make your normally nimble-minded self stutter at such a comeback.
Her eyes scanned your face. “Then what is the point, ma?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden pet name. This girl knew you in and out and she was using it to her advantage. It hurt, but you blamed yourself.
You stopped in front of her, trying not to let her looks get the best of you as you bit down on your lip. “You’ve been distant,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze as you stared at the ground. You felt pathetic— something you’d only felt a few days out of the year. It was rare. “And I hate it.” You finally emphasized, peering up at Paige who seemed to have lost any of her previous confidence at your words.
Her lips were plump and parted as she stared at you. It was enough to know you’d noticed and that you cared, but she didn’t want to address it, she wanted to kiss you. In one swift motion, she dropped her arms to their respective places, like a default and they knew where to go: one gripping your waist like her life depended on it, and the other cupping your face like she was being handed something she was told to take care of.
Your body trembled as you softened underneath her, your lips automatically moving against hers as you used all your pent-up emotions to keep up with her. You’d forgotten all about your said attitude and the way Paige had totally dismissed the conversation, but right now, it was the last thing you cared about.
Her tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a whine from you at the quickness that made Paige’s knees buck. She loved to hear you. She loved any sound you made. You made her weak.
“Can never get e-fucking-nough of you,” she breathed out, the comment more to herself. It was words like these that made you question how casual your hooking up was. She got so poetic and warm in the world of sex with you, and you loved it. It didn’t matter if she was praising or belittling you because you would eat it up every damn time.
Your hands roam through the waves of her hair, finding a spot that you comfortably grip and tug, the motion causing Paige’s lips to part from yours as her head tilted back slightly. You brought your lips down to her jaw, peppering kisses down the line and to her neck as you held her by her hair, Paige smiling above you. It always started like this— a constant fight for dominance that Paige always won. It was why she’d been smiling so hard.
It didn’t take long for you to find that good spot of hers, her smile instantly becoming a face of pure satisfaction as you sucked a light hickey onto her neck within seconds. You never did that because you knew Paige would only have to cover it up, but it felt right.
As Paige’s hands hooked under your legs and hoisted you up, you yelped, following the gesture with a giggly laugh that Paige couldn’t help but crack a smile at. She missed you. “Tired of standing,” she mumbled, carrying you to her bedroom. During the short way there, your lips had found her face again, never getting enough of all of the places you could leave a wet, sensual peck.
Setting you down at the edge of the bed, Paige turned around so she could shut and lock the door. She slid her UConn sweatshirt off in the process, pivoting back to you as you sat there in all your glory, laid back on your elbows. Paige immediately got to work, pulling off your pants as she hovered over you, her bottom lip sitting snug in between her teeth.
Glancing up at her, you immediately wanted her closer as she took them off painfully slow, and as soon as she was done throwing them into a corner of her room, she didn’t have any time to fully turn her head before you were pulling her into you, kissing her eagerly for the second time that night.
Her hands roamed beneath your engulfed bodies as her mind already knew where everything was without having to look. If there was one thing she learned from having sex with you, it was your body. She knew it as if it were a topic she’d studied for hours. Her fingers glided over your clothed cunt, causing your body to squirm at the unexpected touch.
She smiled into the kiss at your reaction and the feeling of your wetness, her body falling next to you as she propped herself up with her elbow. She pushed the fabric to the side with two fingers, her lips continually moving against yours as she circled your clit. Without warning, she pushed her two middle fingers into you. You never needed much foreplay because of how wet you got so easily, but that was a gift only Paige received.
You instantly pulled away from the blonde at the feeling, your head glancing down to her moving fingers as your mouth fell agape. Paige’s hooded eyes stared at the side of your face as your head eventually settled back onto her leaned arm with a gasp. She licked her lips, looking at the way her fingers moved in and out of you so effortlessly. “Look, baby. Doin’ so good for me.” She praised, your moans sounding like music to her ears as your eyes fluttered shut.
Suddenly, she curled her fingers, eliciting a loud, pornographic moan from the depths of your throat. “I told you to look,” she stated firmly. You opened your eyes slowly but surely as Paige lifted her arm underneath you so your head was at an elevated angle to see the bottom half of your body, and you swore you would come simply at the sight and Paige’s strength that had been showcased from her holding you. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she cooed. Another praise. Paige never cursed, but when she got in bed with you, it was inevitable.
“I’m gonna come, baby,” you told her, and although your mind had been completely fucked out, you were still good at picking out the things Paige got weak about, which realistically would be everything, including when you called her baby.
Her breathing picked up, the room becoming hot. “Yeah? Can’t wait any longer?” Paige questioned, and you automatically shook your head through moans, turning to look at Paige who had her eyes locked on you. She took a snapshot of you with her eyes, a picture she would frame in the Louvre if given the chance.
“N-no. Can’t wai— fuck!” You came undone on Paige’s fingers with a loud groan as her pace quickened inside of you, your juices coating her fingers. She couldn’t revert her gaze from your glistening cunt and the way it reflected on her slender hands, getting an urge to taste you, yet she held off.
Your chest heaved as she slowed down, a noise being made as she slipped out of you. You laid back once more despite the fact that Paige’s arm must’ve fallen asleep by now, watching through half-shut eyes as her fingers came into view. She shoved them into your mouth, her lips parting as she tilted her head slightly and watched you lick your own slick.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, nearly drooling as you grabbed her hand with your own, pushing her digits further into your mouth. You indulged at your own pace, peering up at her, knowing the thrill it would give her. Your tongue slid between the two fingers, working its way to slurp everything off. Finally, Paige had enough.
She forced her fingers out of your mouth, sliding out with a pop because of how tight you’d wrapped around them. She got up and made her way around the bed, settling with her back against the headboard. You followed her there with a crawl, laying in between her slightly spread legs as you leaned into kiss her. As your lips moved, you felt the urge for more, pulling away abruptly. Catching your breath, Paige couldn’t control her own as she looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” She breathed out, her hands still cupping your cheeks.
You looked down, your head moving in between her cupped hands. “Too many clothes.” You panted, prompting a smile from Paige who was quick to lift her hips up, your bottom halves crashing for a moment as she slipped her sweatpants off, throwing them off the side of the bed. You followed suit with your shirt, leaving you in a lacy, purple bra that made your tits look fucking phenomenal.
Paige leaned back against the headboard, taking in the sight as you sat up before her, teasingly running your hand up the strap of your bra while you looked down. You knew what you were doing, purple is Paige’s favorite color. Eventually, you brought both hands to the clasp in the back, finally glancing at Paige who seemed to be stuck in a daze. You smirked slightly, not tearing your eyes away from her as your tits fell from its holder, and Paige was ready to dive into you.
“C’mere.” Her voice was husk as she whispered for you to come closer, and you obeyed, crawling back to your previous position between her legs with a smirk. Thinking Paige was going to kiss you once more, you brought your lips closer to her, but she dipped her head to your collarbone, her mouth immediately getting to work as you moaned softly, bringing your hand up to play with her hair.
She began sucking, and you swore you started to feel dizzy. You glanced down at the pink-ish mark forming on your skin above the place she’d now been getting to work on, making you a bit confused in the mist of your heavy breathing before you glanced down at the spot on Paige’s neck that had now been a dark purple color. You didn’t think she’d noticed, but obliviously she had. Paige knew it wouldn’t be a good look to her friends, but she didn’t care. It was fair game and she couldn’t resist you.
She then moved down, beginning to fondle with your breasts. She massaged one with one hand, attaching her lips to the other, her tongue swarming your nipple. “Missed you so much.” You whimpered, bringing your hand around to tuck her hair behind her ear, getting a good sight of her. How pretty she looked beneath you like this was all you could think about.
A few moments later, she pulled her lips away, seemingly content with the work she’d done. She hastily pulled her boxers down afterwards, you following eagerly with your soaked panties, the same ones Paige hadn’t even bothered to pull down when fingering you. Just as the two of you tangled your legs together, your beating cunts an inch away from igniting the longing pleasure, the jingle of keys and distinct chatter interrupted the moment, making you whip your head around towards the door.
You could make out the voices of Amari and Ice, realizing they must’ve left a little bit after you and Paige. The walls were too thin for this.
Without notice, Paige pressed her bottom half into you, making you moan out. She was quick to cover your mouth before you could yourself, your eyebrows furrowing through pleasure and fear of being caught. “You know I love hearin’ you but you’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby, okay?” she whispered, making you nod. Although the chances of being caught were high because of the unlocked door, the warmth of Paige’s clit hitting yours over and over was enough to make you forget about all of that.
You moved against her in a way Paige thought was painfully slow, a bead of sweat already forming at the top of her head as you both couldn’t tear your eyes away from where your bodies interlocked. She brought you down to her face, peppering soft kisses to your lips as you could barely build up the strength to kiss her back, all of it going into the way you moved.
Through low curses and pants, you finally mustered the strength to move your hand to Paige’s cunt, her reaction resulting in her dropping the hand previously over your mouth, her bones feeble. “Shit, keep going,” Paige murmured, her words enough to make you speed up your motions. Your hips bucked back and forth on her, whining as you tried to get as much as friction as possible.
Paige’s hands shot down to your waist, gripping them as she admired the way her fingers molded into your skin. They trailed down to your ass, her head tilting to the side a bit so she could get a good view of the way you looked from behind. She couldn’t quite fathom how you looked good in every position.
Dazed and breathless, you both felt your high bubbling within you as you continuously moved, the sound and smell of sex filling the room. “Paige, I’mmm.. fu— almost..” you could barely get any words out, but the blonde could make out what you were trying to say as she pushed her hips up further, getting any resistance she could.
“I’m right with you, fuck,” Paige dragged her words out, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to hold off a little longer, but she physically couldn’t. Her stamina was a bit better than yours overall because she was an athlete, but tonight she wasn’t holding off.
You leaned down to rest your head in the nape of Paige’s neck, the slightly new angle pushing you both over the edge. You felt intoxicated as you came undone, Paige’s center never giving the throbbing a rest as she came right with you like she’d promised. “Sh-shit.” Paige’s voice had gotten high for the first time that night. “I love you so fuckin’ much, fuck.” Paige admitted, her words rushed out. You only panted, bringing your head up to rest against her forehead as your chests heaved and you both stopped moving. Paige opened her eyes at your touch, only being able to stare into your eyes for so long— caught in a different universe as your lips hovered over hers.
Still breathless, Paige managed to wrap her arms around you and set you down next to her, your wet, sweaty body hitting her sheets. Coming down from the sacred high and finally having room to think, you’d only just then comprehended what Paige had said, knitting your eyebrows slightly from next to her. You turned your head, realizing she had managed to hoist herself up and put her clothes back on, grabbing scattered pieces of clothing in the process. Your scattered pieces of clothing.
You propped yourself up on both elbows, her comforter covering your chest. You realized that if anyone were to walk in right now, there would be no hiding the fact that you’d indeed just fucked— your mascara smudged, your hair an absolute mess. You cleared your throat, indicating you were back in the right state of mind and Paige’s body shook. Her back was turned to you, but she could already feel the tension heavy in the room.
Paige had never, not once said those three words to you. And with the way she was acting, you could tell it wasn’t one of her heat-of-the-moment sayings. She’d meant it. “Paige—“ she cut you off before you could address it.
“You should go. It’s late.” Despite her attempts to shake you off, Paige knew better than anyone that she wouldn’t get the last word with you. She might’ve been too full of herself, but you were one quick-witted individual.
You chuckled from behind her, an attempt to hide the actual hurt in your tone. “You’re serious?” you asked, although you knew she was. Your eyes were widened and you couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing before literally kicking you out.
She turned around and effortlessly tossed your clothes onto the bed, the garments landing right in front of you. She didn’t have to say anything. You could fucking feel it. You didn’t have the energy to put up a fight or an argument because it simply did not seem like she cared enough for it. Her words would only hurt you more. You’d known and learned this girl through and through and you would’ve never thought she’d do such a thing. You normally stayed the night, took a shower together, or even just stayed in each other’s warmth until having to tend to something. But tonight, she’d dropped a bomb and resulted in acting like an asshole.
You had a slight frown on your face as you hastily gathered your things, your clothes sloppily thrown on your body like you were sneaking out from a one-night-stand. You tucked your hair behind your ears as you put your shoes on, ignoring the unreadable expression on Paige’s face as her eyes shot daggers into you. Why weren’t you saying anything back? Why weren’t you shouting the most cruel things in her face? She felt like she’d deserved some backlash for what she just did, yet you seemed more hurt and eager to get out of her room than angry.
Without a second glance at the blonde, you rushed out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind you which elicited a slight jump from Paige. Waltzing across the living room, you almost didn’t catch the widened eyes of Amari and Ice in the kitchen. You didn’t care that their speculations had been confirmed, because it was shut down now. Despite being the only girl Paige had been fucking for months on end, she treated you like just another fling tonight, and you were hurt. You were hurt because you loved her too and she didn’t care enough to say it again.
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#wlw#wlw ns/fw#lgbtq#paige bueckers headcannons#uconn women’s basketball#bueckers’ works 🍒
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Maybe a lestappen fic were Reader friends are the worst and they comfort her, thank you 💗
You were out with your boyfriends when you saw them across the street, walking out of a shop, talking and laughing without a care. You had texted them yesterday to ask if they were free today to hang out, since you haven’t seen them in a few weeks. The answer? I have to work. I’ll be out of town. I’m sick, just numerous excuses.
Max noticed the change in your demeanor in an instant. “What’s wrong, love?”
“Oh, I just remember that I need to call mom, or she’ll get mad.” You smile, not wanting to worry him.
“You can call her once we get home.” He kisses your forehead and holds your hand to keep walking.
Being around them was enough to make you forget about what you saw and you actually ended up enjoying the day off.
Until Charles decided that it was time to eat and walked into one of your favorite restaurants in town. A very exclusive but cozy one.
The host just gave your boyfriends a look and it was enough for her to rush to get you three a table.
“Aren’t those your friends?” Charles asks you, looking behind your shoulders.
You didn’t want to look but you also didn’t want them to know what happened. So, you simply turned around with a forced smile.
“Oh, yes! What a coincidence.”
“You can say hello to them,” Max gives you a little pat on your lower back, encouraging you to go to them. “We will wait for you.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek before walking towards them.
You notice the exact moment they see you, because they go from laughing to a complete silence.
“Hey!” You try not to show how affected you are, how much you want to cry. “I thought you were busy today.”
One of your friends gives you a once over before leaning closer to one of your other friends and whispering something before laughing.
They don’t even try to pretend.
“Yeah. This was something last minute.” One girl says, taking a sip of her drink. “We forgot to tell you.”
“Are you following us?” One of your male friends says, not hiding his smirk at all.
“Oh, no, I’m—”
“Because that’s sad.”
One of your friends, one you thought was someone you could trust, bursts out laughing before saying, “Even for you.”
You’re one second away from crying now, so you decide to excuse yourself and walk away, not hungry anymore and just wanting to go home. But Max and Charles are by your side in one second and you’re unable to do so.
“Max, Charles!”
Everyone’s expression changes just like it changed when you approached their table. The difference is that this time they’re all smiling, sparkling eyes looking up at them as if you are not even there, standing between them. As if you are invisible.
“Are you waiting for a table?”
“You can sit with us. We can make space for you!”
It’s laughable, really.
Charles looks at you, his hand on your waist. “You want to sit here, chéri?”
You avoid looking at your “friends” and Max notices immediately.
“We just came for take out,” Max explains, a friendly smile on his lips. “she just wanted her favorite dessert and we can’t say no to her.”
Everyone on the table laughs. But it’s forced, anyone would notice.
“Well, we should plan something, then.” A blonde girl you have never seen before says. She’s twirling her hair and everything, and you would feel disgusted if it weren’t for the situation you’re currently in.
Max holds your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Silence.
A beat.
And then.
“Some friends you are.”
You are out of the restaurant in ten minutes. Charles carries some take out while Max doesn’t let your hand go, at least not until you’re in front of the car.
“Are you okay?” Max cups your cheeks, and you finally let the tears fall.
“We noticed things were weird when you stood in front of their table.” Your Monégasque boyfriend says, his free hand rubbing your back. “We just didn’t realize how bad it was until we heard them.”
“How long has this been happening?”
You sniff, feeling the pad of Max’s fingers wiping the tears off your face.
“Now that I’m thinking about it,” You laugh, closing your eyes, thinking about how stupid and blind you were. “it has been this way since… forever.”
“Oh, baby.” Charles wraps you in his arms, Max joining the hug without a second thought.
“You should have told us.” Max whispers in your ear, and you nod because he is right. “We could’ve done something.”
Charles rolls his eyes, giving his boyfriend a little push. “You don't need them, okay?”
“You are an incredible,” Max kisses your cheek, “and amazing person.”
“Most beautiful girl in the world.” Charles kisses your other cheek.
Your Dutch boyfriend gives you a little peck on the lips before pulling away to look directly into your eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives.”
“Their loss.” You groan against Charles’ shoulder.
“That’s my girl!” They laugh and you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.
“Now,” The blonde-haired boy says, opening the car door for you. “Should we go home to eat in bed while we watch some movie?”
“Can we watch Cars?”
“Charles, she will choose the movie!”
“But she loves Cars too!”
#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#lestappen x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc fluff#max verstappen fluff#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic
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Danny is an ao3 writer
Hear me out!
Y'know how there's a running joke that ao3 authors/writers will put in the author's notes that they're sorry that they took so long to update and their reason is because of either they got into a horrible accident/ life threatening health issue/serious personal issues/ their life went up in flames figuratively or literally, or somehow a combination of all of those scenarios. And they're all like "Well enjoy the chapter! tee-hee!" and everybody who's reading it all collectively go "are you okay?!" (aka the ao3 writers curse)
So I want to take this, and add Danny
Danny begins taking a liking to the classic literature that Mr. Lancer talks about during class and decides to writes a fanfic about it along those lines. It all starts for when he writes a Pride and Prejudice fic where Charlotte gets a better life where she's both happy and comfortable. And when he gets pretty supportive comments about it. He starts writing fics for other books as well (and it never stops)
During that time, who else but the Jane Austen fan, Jason Todd reads this fic. Yes he reads fanfic (do not ask him about his ao3 history), he yearns for more Jane Austen, but unfortunately she's not exactly able to write more books for him to read. So he turns to ao3 where there are some people who have incredible talent for writing pretty good regency era romance.
So what happens when he finds a couple of Pride and Prejudice stories written by " HalfDeadHalfAliveWriter
And when reading through the stories and looking at the author's notes.
All with very weird scenarios happening to the writer that he can't be sure that if it's a joke or if it's an actual thing he should be very worried about.
Author's notes such as:
Sorry it took so long for me to update this I was being shot at by my parents and ended up getting a burn on my hand and couldn't use my computer for awhile.
Sorry the chapter's so short, all the people in my town are being possessed by a hoard of angry ghosts because somebody had a bright idea to steal an artifact that belongs to an ancient civilization. So I had to get this out quick before they ruin my wifi connection
Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I had to fight off a crazy guy that is obsessed with killing my father so he could marry my mother and become my new stepfather.
Sorry for the wait I got sent back to Ancient Egypt by my mentor to hunt down a runaway ghost that was messing with time.
But honestly the most recent author's note on a fic that hadn't been updated in week is what makes Jason really worried.
Sorry for not updating for a couple months guys, I was taken by a government agency that started vivisecting and torturing me. Thankfully my sister and friends busted me out and now I'm working on healing up. Anyway here's the Great Gatsby fic where Nick and Gatsby kiss.
After reading that author's note, Jason just sits there thinking only one thing.
What the fuck?
#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc au#dpxdc#dp x batman#Jason just sitting there not really knowing how to react to these authors notes#I imagine that Danny is completely chaotic when writing author's notes but completely professional when writing his fics#Imagine the downfall of the GIW starts with Danny writing fanfiction#that's something he'll never let anyone forget
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Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 1
Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Hungry Wife! Reader. By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost' Riley
Part 2, Part 3
Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don't read when hungry!! Summary: Pregnant with Simon's child, Y/N experiences intense late-night cravings. Her overprotective husband, Simon, keeps a close eye on her, ensuring she’s well taken care of. However, Y/N discovers a late-night noodle shop that serves her favorite foods—dumplings and noodles—and she can’t resist the temptation. She sneaks out in the dead of night for quick food runs, careful not to wake Simon. But Simon, ever the observant one, eventually catches her in the act and decides he’s not letting her sneak off again without a word.
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Midnight Snack Bust
Simon stirred slightly in his sleep, his instincts sharper than most even when off-duty. The weight on his chest—a comforting one—shifted, then disappeared altogether.
His eyes fluttered open in the darkness. Your side of the bed was empty, the covers pushed back, a slight chill left in their absence. Simon frowned. This wasn’t the first time.
He waited, still as a statue, listening for any sound that might tell him where you’d gone. The faint creak of the stairs gave you away.
Downstairs, you shuffled around the kitchen, carefully balancing a plate of toast smothered in butter, jam and honey. The thought of waking Simon was laughable—he was always in full protective mode, which meant no late-night snacks for you unless he hovered like a helicopter. Besides, you could handle it. The kitchen wasn’t that far from the bed.
Except, as you turned with your snack in hand, there he was.
Simon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a shadowy figure of unimpressed authority. The glow from the fridge cast just enough light for you to see his raised brow.
“Really?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
You froze like a deer caught in headlights, the plate in your hands trembling slightly. “I was hungry.”
“You could’ve woken me.”
“It’s toast, Simon. I think I can manage toast.”
He stepped forward, his size practically swallowing the kitchen whole. “Not about the toast, love. It’s about the stairs. And you bein’ pregnant. You fall, then what?”
You rolled your eyes, but he plucked the plate from your hands, setting it on the counter. Without another word, he scooped you up—scooped, like a bloody princess—and started carrying you back to bed.
“Simon!” you protested, flailing slightly.
“Shush,” he muttered. “You’ve got enough on your plate—literally—without riskin’ your neck for a midnight snack.”
----------
Back in bed, Simon pulled the covers over both of you, his arm locking you in place like a human seatbelt.
“Next time, wake me,” he said, his voice softer now. “You want toast, noodles, a bloody roast dinner—I’ll get it. Just don’t go sneakin’ about.”
You sighed, nestling into his chest. “Fine. But I’m holding you to the roast dinner.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Deal.”
---------- A Wonderful Discovery
One sunny afternoon, you and Price’s fiancée (A/N: Same person from Papa Bear!! Material ;) ) decided to meet at a charming little tea house. It had become a bit of a routine—your way of catching up without the boys around to interrupt with their dry humor and war stories.
She was her usual lively self, flipping through the menu even though she’d already decided on her order. You admired how she could make even the simplest thing—like picking a biscuit—seem like an adventure.
“I’ve got to tell you,” she said suddenly, setting her menu down. “There’s this noodle shop. Open late. Best dumplings you’ll ever have. Like, melt-in-your-mouth, life-changing dumplings.”
Your eyebrows rose. “Late-night noodles? Around here?”
She nodded, leaning forward as if sharing a state secret. “Not just noodles—bao buns, dumplings, the works. I discovered it after one of those long nights when John was stuck at the base, and I didn’t feel like cooking. It’s a lifesaver. You’re lucky—it’s right near your place.”
Your interest piqued immediately. The thought of sneaking out for some steaming hot noodles had your mouth watering. “How late are we talking?”
She grinned. “Oh, past midnight. Maybe even 2 or 3 AM.”
----------
That night, as you lay in bed listening to Simon’s soft snores, the thought of that noodle shop lingered. You could almost taste the broth, the tender dumplings, the savory goodness of a late-night food escapade.
The idea began to take root.
----------
Late Night Escape
The idea simmered in your mind all evening. By the time Simon had brushed his teeth, pulled on his oversized sleep shirt, and settled into bed, it had blossomed into a full-blown plan.
You waited. And waited. Timing was everything. Simon’s arm, draped heavily across your waist, rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing. His presence was solid and warm, a comforting weight—but tonight, it was your obstacle.
Carefully, you began to inch away, moving like a prisoner attempting to slip past a sleeping guard. His hand twitched, and you froze, holding your breath. After a long moment, he let out a soft snore.
Victory.
Sliding out of bed, you padded quietly to the wardrobe, pulling on Simon’s oversized hoodie and slipping into your trusty anti-slip slippers. The eco bag was stashed by the door, waiting. You slipped it over your shoulder, opened the door as quietly as you could, and stepped out into the cool night air.
The noodle shop wasn’t far, but with the chill nipping at your cheeks, it felt like forever. When you finally reached the warm glow of the restaurant, the smells of rich broth and freshly steamed dumplings greeted you like an old friend.
Sliding into a seat, you ordered a large bowl of noodles and a plate of dumplings. The first bite was pure heaven—warm, savory, comforting. This wasn’t just food. This was rebellion. A delicious act of defiance against Simon’s overprotectiveness.
You ate quickly, savoring each bite but keeping an eye on the clock. You couldn’t risk being gone too long, or Simon might wake up. When you finished, you wiped your hands, packed your leftovers into your eco bag, and headed home, feeling victorious.
----------
Simon hadn’t stirred when you returned. You slipped into bed, placing the bag under the bed for good measure. His arm instinctively found your waist again, and you smiled to yourself, utterly pleased.
But this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.
----------
First Catch
It started feeling too easy. You’d mastered the art of sneaking out: the slow, deliberate slide from under Simon’s arm, the silent shuffle to the door, and the perfectly timed return. Your noodle escapades had become a nightly ritual.
But then, one night, your luck ran out.
You were tiptoeing into the kitchen, quietly opening the fridge to stash the leftover dumplings behind the unassuming bag of lettuce Simon would never touch, when a deep voice cut through the silence.
“Late-night fridge rearranging, are we?”
You jumped, spinning around with a gasp. Simon was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his imposing figure illuminated by the dim light of the open fridge.
Your mind scrambled for an excuse. “Uh... just wanted some water.”
“In my hoodie? And with an eco bag?” His eyebrow arched, unimpressed.
You tried to tuck the bag behind you, but Simon’s sharp eyes had already caught the unmistakable sheen of takeout containers poking out from the top. He strode forward, plucked the bag from your hands with an annoyingly effortless tug, and opened it.
The aroma of noodles and dumplings betrayed you instantly.
“Water, huh?” He held up a dumpling with mock seriousness. “This what they’re calling it these days?”
You gulped.
----------
Minutes later, you found yourself seated at the kitchen table like a scolded child. Simon, clad in sweatpants and a scowl, had taken over the stove. The sight of him cooking—rolling up his sleeves with a tired sigh—might’ve been endearing if you weren’t on the receiving end of his disapproval.
“You could’ve woken me,” he grumbled, cracking eggs into a bowl with more force than necessary.
“You were sleeping,” you mumbled.
“I’d rather get up than have you sneakin’ around at night,” he said, his tone gruff. “What if somethin’ happened, eh? You’re waddling about in the dark like a burglar.”
You snorted at the image, which earned you a sharp look.
“Not funny,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll make the bloody noodles if that’s what you want. Just stop sneakin’ out.”
You stayed silent, chewing on your lower lip. No way were you telling him about the noodle shop.
---------
Close Call
Old habits die hard. A few nights later, you were returning from the noodle shop, quietly slipping into the kitchen to stash your leftovers behind the condiments, when Simon stirred upstairs.
He came padding down the stairs just as you were closing the fridge.
“You were gone,” he murmured groggily, rubbing his face.
“Kitchen,” you lied quickly, holding up an empty glass of water as proof.
He hummed, unconvinced, and squinted at you. “Should’ve woken me.”
“For the kitchen?” you asked, feigning innocence.
“For whatever,” he grunted, his eyes scanning the counter before settling on the fridge. “Don’t like you wanderin’ about on your own.”
You gave him your best innocent smile and shuffled past him toward the stairs. Simon followed a moment later, his suspicion lingering like a shadow.
----------
Growing Suspicion
It started with a nagging feeling Simon couldn’t shake. You were always warm when you came back to bed, slightly out of breath, and he could swear he caught the faintest hint of soy sauce and sesame lingering in the air.
One night, as you slid into bed beside him, he cracked an eye open just enough to catch you pulling off his oversized hoodie. You were trying to be quiet, moving with all the stealth of someone trying not to get caught.
He didn’t say anything. Not yet. But his mind was racing.
The next night, he pretended to be deep asleep as you started your routine. The slow untangling from his grasp, the soft shuffle to grab your hoodie and slippers. He cracked his eye open just as you tiptoed out of the room, eco bag in hand.
Simon lay there for a moment, his jaw tightening. He didn’t believe in jumping to conclusions without evidence—years of military experience had drilled that into him. But this was his wife, and the secrecy was starting to itch.
----------
The Watchful Eye
The next few nights, Simon kept up his act. He watched you go through the same routine: hoodie on, bag in hand, slippers padding softly across the floor. Each time, he waited until you were out of earshot before sitting up and staring at the door.
He debated following you right then and there but decided against it. Instead, he lay back, staring at the ceiling, letting the suspicion simmer.
Until one night, he’d had enough.
----------
Caught in the Act
Simon Riley, a man known for his ability to track an enemy through any terrain in total darkness, cracked one eye open as he heard the faint creak of the bedroom door. His wife, waddling like a stealthy penguin in his oversized hoodie, had escaped once again.
He sat up, running a hand down his face, and muttered, “Bloody hell.” This was the third time this week, and it was starting to feel personal. He reached for his jumper, his movements slow and deliberate.
By the time Simon made it outside, you were already a good distance ahead, waddling down the street with your eco bag swinging by your side. He trailed behind, staying in the shadows like a proper ghost, his breath visible in the chilly night air.
When you entered the noodle shop, he stopped just outside, watching through the window. You were already at a corner table, your face lighting up as the server placed a steaming bowl of noodles in front of you. Then came the dumplings, and your joy was almost palpable.
Simon shook his head, muttering, “Unbelievable,” before pushing the door open. The little bell above the door jingled, but you didn’t notice—too engrossed in your noodles.
He approached silently, stopping just behind you. “Enjoyin’ yourself, are ya?”
You froze mid-slurp, a noodle dangling from your lips. That voice. You’d recognize that deep, gravelly tone anywhere.
Slowly, you turned your head to see Simon standing there, arms crossed and a single brow arched. His expression was equal parts amusement and exasperation.
“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”
“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”
A/N:
Just a heads up—Captain Price’s fiancée in this story is the same lady from Papa Bear Material—Mama Bear! So, if you've read that story, you might recognize her. As for the characters of Y/N, both are technically the same person, so feel free to choose who you identify with!
Y/N’s been caught. And now, Simon’s not having it. And with that, stay tuned for Part 2. Simon’s not letting this go anytime soon…
Edit: Part 2 is here!----->
#Ghost#Simon 'Ghost' Riley#Simon Ghost Riley#Ghost COD#Ghost Call of Duty#Ghost x Reader#Ghost x Wife! Reader#Ghost x You#Ghost x Y/N#Ghost x OC#Simon Riley x Reader#Simon Riley x You#Simon Riley Imagines#Simon Riley x OC#Simon Riley x Y/N#Ghost Fan fic#Ghost FanFic#Simon Riley Fan Fic#Simon Riley Fanfic#Simon Riley Fan Fiction#Simon Riley FanFiction#Simon Ghost Riley x You#Simon Ghost Riley x Reader#Simon Ghost Riley x Y/N#Simon Ghost x Reader#Simon Ghost x You#Simon Ghost fluff
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