#but obvs any pairing is fine! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 6 months ago

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PREACHER’S DAUGHTER | MV1

an: can you tell i have an amazing music taste, anyway i’m finishing up a lot of my wips this weekend therefore be ready for a bit of stuff to come out!! i need to update my master list

warnings: domestic abuse, religious themes obvs

wc: 10.2k

Max was never one for church.

Never believed in any of that.

But God, would he get on his knees for a girl.

He couldn’t even remember when he first saw her—it was like she’d always been there, glowing in a way that made his chest tighten and his palms itch to touch what he had no business reaching for.

She was perfect in that untouchable kind of way. Always smiling, always polite. The kind of girl who said "please" and "thank you" without sounding fake. She had a laugh that could make angels jealous and a silver cross around her neck that caught the light just right, like some divine shield.

And Max? He was everything she wasn’t. Grease under his nails, a cigarette always tucked behind his ear, and a devil-may-care attitude that had sent half the town clutching their pearls. He’d been watching her for weeks now, maybe months. The way she walked, her little rituals—Bible study on Wednesday nights, choir practice on Saturdays, and the absolute certainty that she’d be on her family’s porch every evening at seven, helping her mom snap beans or some other domestic chore that Max couldn’t wrap his head around.

She didn’t belong in his world. Hell, she probably didn’t even know it existed. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. No, needing her.

It was the way she looked so... pure, he supposed. Untouched by the grime and shadows he carried around like second skin. And it wasn’t just her innocence he wanted to wreck. It was the thought of making her his—really his. Of seeing her in his world, in his trailer, on his bike, wearing his marks, not that dainty little cross that probably smelled of Sunday mornings and lavender soap.

Max didn’t follow her. Not exactly. But he always seemed to know where she’d be, and tonight wasn’t any different. Wednesday night Bible study. He parked his beat-up car down the street from the little white church, hidden enough to keep from drawing attention. Not that anyone would think twice—it wasn’t like he blended in with the choir crowd.

The stained-glass windows glowed softly, warm light spilling out into the cool evening air. He could hear the faint hum of voices, maybe a hymn being sung, as he leaned back against the hood of his car and waited. He lit another cigarette, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

When the front doors finally swung open, he straightened, tossing the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under his boot. She was the last to leave, as he knew she would be. Everyone else had trickled out in pairs and groups, chatting and laughing as they headed home. But she stayed behind, always locking up on her own.

Tonight, she was struggling with a box full of what looked like hymnals and Bible study materials, juggling it while trying to fit the key into the heavy wooden doors. Max could see the way her fingers fumbled, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Before he could think better of it, he started across the street. The click of his boots on the pavement caught her attention, and she turned her head sharply, her soft eyes widening as she saw him.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking from his face to the box in her arms and then back again. He noticed how she clutched it tighter, like she wasn’t sure if she should trust him.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. “I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, stepping closer. Before she could protest, he reached out and took the box from her. Their fingers brushed, and the contrast hit him like a punch to the gut. Her hands were soft, smooth, and clean, while his were rough, calloused, and stained with grease that never seemed to wash off.

“Thanks,” she said reluctantly, looking up at him. He noticed how small she seemed compared to him, how her cross caught the light even in the dark.

“You’re the boy that fixes Daddy’s car,” she said after a beat. “From the shop in town.”

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Didn’t know you knew me.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just… heard Daddy talking about you. Said you do good work.”

He smirked at that, carrying the box like it weighed nothing and setting it gently down beside her. “Guess I’m a little famous, then.”

She laughed softly, and it was the kind of sound that made something deep in his chest tighten. She reached for her key again, this time managing to lock the doors without the box in her way.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, stepping back and brushing her hands against her skirt.

“Anytime,” he replied, his grin widening. He leaned against the doors, watching her as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she were about to answer, but then she shook her head. “I should go. My family will be waiting.”

And just like that, she was walking away, her head held high, her skirt swaying gently with each step.

Max watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his grin fading into something darker, more determined.

“See you around,” he muttered under his breath.

Because he would. One way or another.

Max didn’t see her again for days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on his mind. She had a way of lingering there, like the scent of rain after a storm—clean, fresh, and completely out of place in his world.

The more he thought about her, the more he couldn’t shake the way her voice had sounded when she’d called him "the boy that fixes Daddy’s car." There was no judgment in it, no disdain. Just a simple observation, like she hadn’t even realised how different their worlds were.

But Max knew. Oh, he knew.

She was the preacher’s daughter, for God’s sake. The girl who probably spent her nights reading scripture and praying for sinners like him. And he? He was the guy people crossed the street to avoid, the one mothers warned their daughters about. He’d left home at fifteen, slept on park benches and under bridges until he’d scraped together enough to buy that rusted-out trailer. He worked double shifts at the garage, spent his weekends drinking cheap beer with guys who wouldn’t bat an eye at a bar fight, and had a reputation that kept most people from looking him in the eye.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He knew that.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want her anyway.

The next Wednesday, he found himself back outside the church, parked in the same spot as before. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself. But when he saw her again, her laugh carrying across the parking lot as she said goodbye to the last of her Bible study group, he felt that same pull in his chest.

This time, he didn’t approach her. Not yet. Instead, he leaned against his shit box car and watched as she locked the doors, her movements quick and practiced. She wasn’t carrying anything tonight, but she still seemed to pause for a moment, glancing around like she could feel his eyes on her.

He ducked his head, pretending to light a cigarette even though it was already burning. When he glanced back up, she was gone.

The next few days passed in a blur of oil changes, engine repairs, and sleepless nights. Max couldn’t shake the image of her—the way her hands had brushed his, the way she’d looked at him like she was trying to figure him out.

By the time Sunday rolled around, he couldn’t stay away.

He parked his bike a few blocks from the church, out of sight, and watched as families filed in for the morning service. They were all dressed in their Sunday best—dads in pressed suits, moms in floral dresses, kids squirming in their fancy clothes.

And then there she was, walking up the steps with her family. She wore a white dress that stopped just below her knees, her hair pulled back in a way that showed off the delicate line of her neck. The silver cross around her neck gleamed in the sunlight, and Max found himself staring at it, wondering what it would look like tangled with the chains he wore.

Her father was at her side, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder as he greeted the congregation. He was everything Max wasn’t—clean-cut, well-spoken, a man who commanded respect just by standing there.

Max stayed until the doors closed behind her, then turned and walked back to his bike.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he couldn’t just let it go. All he knew was that he’d see her again.

And when he did, he’d make her notice him.

Max didn’t plan to follow her after the service, not really. But when he saw her step out of the church alone, her family nowhere in sight, curiosity got the better of him. She walked with purpose, her hands clutching a small book—probably her Bible, he figured—and her expression calm, like she knew exactly where she was going.

He stayed a block or so behind, keeping his footsteps quiet on the pavement. She didn’t seem like the type to sneak off after church, and yet, here she was, turning off the main road and heading toward the park.

When she reached a shaded bench near the pond, she sat down, smoothing her dress before opening her book. Max hung back, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and began to read, her lips moving silently.

He couldn’t stop himself. Hands shoved in his pockets, he sauntered over, his boots crunching on the gravel path. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening for a moment before settling into something softer, almost expectant.

“I told my daddy I saw you,” she said, closing the book and resting it on her lap.

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what did he say?”

“That I shouldn’t hang around with people like you,” she replied simply, her voice steady, but her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the book.

He stepped closer, leaning down slightly so they were almost at eye level. “But I don’t see you running,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her expression unflinching. “I’ve noticed you, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re always… around. Outside the church. Watching.”

He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re hard to ignore.”

She blinked, her lashes fluttering like she wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—a small, hesitant thing that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

“I’ve been praying for you,” she said softly, her hands tightening on the book.

Max couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, low and rough. “Praying for me, huh? What for?”

“That you’ll find peace,” she said simply, her voice so earnest it made him pause.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way her fingers trembled just a little against the leather cover of her book, the way she seemed so fragile and so unshakable all at once.

“Peace,” he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue. “You think that’s something I’m missing?”

Her smile grew just a fraction, her eyes softening. “Don’t you?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to laugh it off, to brush her words aside like they didn’t hit somewhere deep and uncomfortable. But the way she was looking at him made it impossible.

She shifted slightly on the bench, her hands resting in her lap as she looked at him. “Everyone finds their way,” she said softly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction that made Max’s chest ache. “One way or another. You just have to be willing to see it.”

Max wanted to scoff, to tell her he didn’t have a “way” to find, but the words died in his throat when he noticed it—a faint bruise just below the cuff of her sleeve, barely visible as she adjusted the book in her lap. His eyes narrowed, the casual smirk on his face fading.

“What happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.

She followed his gaze, quickly tugging her sleeve down to cover the mark. “Oh, that?” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “It’s nothing. I play volleyball sometimes with the girls from church. Just got a little too close to the net.”

Max didn’t buy it. The way she spoke, the way her fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress—it didn’t add up. But he didn’t push. Not yet.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

She nodded quickly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Positive.”

The silence between them stretched, and Max could feel the distance growing, even though they were sitting inches apart.

“I should get home,” she said suddenly, standing and smoothing out her skirt. “It’s getting late.”

He watched as she picked up her book and slung her bag over her shoulder, the hesitant smile she gave him feeling more like a goodbye than a see-you-later.

“You walking?” he asked, standing as well.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

He didn’t offer to walk her, knowing she’d probably say no. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching her disappear down the path until she was out of sight.

The next Wednesday, Max found himself back at the church. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself—but when he saw her locking up the doors again, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching.

She glanced up as he stepped up to the doors, her face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and something softer that made his chest tighten.

“You’re here again,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head toward the doors. “Do you want to see the inside?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You offering to give me a tour?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small smile. “If you’re interested.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Show me.”

She unlocked the doors and pushed them open, leading him into the dimly lit sanctuary. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier than normal.

“This is where we hold services,” she said, gesturing toward the rows of wooden pews. “And over there is the choir loft.”

Max followed her, his eyes drifting over the stained-glass windows and the simple but elegant decor. It wasn’t the kind of place he ever pictured himself in, but being here with her made it feel… different.

“And where do you ask for forgiveness?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to her.

She paused, then turned and led him to the front of the church. “Here,” she said, motioning toward the altar. “This is where people kneel to pray.”

Max’s gaze flicked from the altar to her, and for a moment, he couldn’t help the thought that slipped into his mind. The idea of her on her knees, not in prayer but for him, sent a rush of something dark and hungry through him.

She knelt down, her hands clasped in front of her as if demonstrating. “You just… let it all out here. Whatever’s on your heart, you bring it to God.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her, his throat tightening as the image burned itself into his memory. He wondered, fleetingly, what she’d look like if she weren’t here for forgiveness but for him.

“You going to try?” she asked, looking up at him, her expression earnest and full of trust.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Not my thing,” he muttered, stepping back.

She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Maybe one day,” she said softly.

Max wasn’t so sure. But he’d come back, if only to see her again.

He didn’t ever think he’d see her in his stomping ground, ever.

The garage smelled like oil and metal, the kind of earthy, gritty scent that clung to Max no matter how much he scrubbed his hands. He was leaned under the hood of an old Chevy—her dad’s car—when he heard the soft jingle of the bell above the shop door.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as she stepped inside. Her presence was like sunlight cutting through the dim, grease-streaked world he lived in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the car and smirking. “Ain’t I usually the one picking you up?”

She stopped a few steps in, her hands clasping the strap of her bag. “I left some college work in my daddy’s car,” she said, her voice steady but careful, like she wasn’t sure how to navigate him in this setting.

Max raised an eyebrow, tossing the rag onto a workbench. “Well, aren’t you lucky I’ve got it right here.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the car before meeting his. “Can I…?”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the passenger door. “Be my guest.”

She nodded, walking over and leaning into the open door to retrieve her things. Max’s eyes flicked down before he could stop himself, catching a glimpse of her skirt riding up as she bent over, exposing plain white cotton panties that clung to her hips.

It was innocent, unintentional—but it made his pulse spike, his throat tightening as he quickly looked away. His hand clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to focus.

Then he saw it—a jagged gash on the side of her thigh, red and raw against her pale skin. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown as something twisted in his gut.

“You gonna tell me what happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

She froze for a moment before straightening, clutching her notebook tightly against her chest. “Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cut. “It’s nothing. I was playing with my brother in the park, and the ball rolled into some bushes. I went to get it and scratched myself on a branch.”

Max folded his arms, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “You’ve got an awful lot of bad luck, don’t you? First volleyball, now this.”

Her eyes darted to his, wide and a little panicked. “It’s the truth,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

He stepped closer, his presence looming as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “Lying’s a sin, you know.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But then her shoulders straightened, and she lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “I believe you should worry about the long list of sins you’ve racked up,” she shot back, her voice trembling but firm.

Max smirked at that, the sharp edge of his grin making her swallow hard. “I thought you were praying for me,” he said, his tone almost teasing but laced with something darker.

She stared at him, her hands tightening on her notebook until her knuckles turned white. “I should go,” she said finally, her voice clipped.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he replied, stepping back just enough to let her pass.

She turned and walked out, her steps quick and purposeful, the door swinging shut behind her with a jingle that felt louder than it should have.

Max watched her go, the tension in his chest twisting into something heavier. He didn’t believe her for a second. But the look in her eyes—the mix of fear, defiance, and something else he couldn’t quite name—made him want to figure out exactly what she was hiding.

And he would. One way or another.

A few days later, Max was leaning under the hood of yet another clunker when his manager strolled over, clipboard in hand.

“Got a favor to ask,” the older man grumbled. “Preacher’s too busy to pick up his car. Needs it dropped off at his place.”

Max straightened, rubbing his hands on a rag, his pulse quickening at the mention of her house. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“I’ll do it,” he said casually, masking the eagerness bubbling under his skin. “Got time.”

His manager raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Max tossed the rag aside, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “Consider it handled.”

By the time he pulled up to the preacher’s house in the old Chevy, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the house in a warm, golden light. He killed the engine, climbing out and leaning against the car for a moment.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound drifted through the open window—a soft, mournful piano melody that sent a shiver down his spine. It was beautiful, haunting even, and he knew immediately that it was her.

He stood there, listening, his chest tightening as each note seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t quite place. Then, as the song trailed off, he forced himself to move, stepping up to the door and knocking firmly.

The music stopped. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there she was.

She looked different. Vulnerable.

Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple pair of pyjamas—pale blue cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely on her frame. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Brought your dad’s car back.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

His eyes drifted lower, and that’s when he saw it—a dark, fresh bruise blooming along her forearm, just visible under the edge of her sleeve.

His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, his rough fingers brushing against the tender skin.

She flinched, but not away. Her lips parted, her eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and uncertain.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

She pulled her arm back, wrapping it around herself like a shield. “I’ve been sick,” she murmured, her words hesitant. “That’s why I’ve been home. Just… clumsy, I guess.”

He didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

“Sick, huh?” he said, his voice edged with scepticism.

She nodded, but the way her gaze darted to the floor gave her away.

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, charged with something neither of them seemed able to name. Max’s hand hovered at his side, aching to reach out again, but he forced himself to step back.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and Max turned just as her father appeared in the doorway.

“Evening,” the preacher said, his voice warm but commanding, his eyes flicking between Max and his daughter.

“Car’s good as new,” Max said, holding out the keys. “She’ll run smooth for you.”

“Appreciate it,” the preacher replied, taking the keys with a nod.

Max hesitated, glancing at her one last time. “You know where to find me if you need anything. Always here for you to rely on the car.”

His words were meant for her father, but his eyes stayed on her, making sure she understood the double meaning.

The preacher didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, son,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crisp bill. He handed it to Max with a firm handshake.

Max nodded, pocketing the tip without looking at it. As he stepped back, the preacher gave him a polite smile before closing the door firmly, leaving Max staring at the wood grain.

The following morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds of Max’s trailer, casting long shadows over the cluttered space. He was sprawled on his bed, one leg hanging off the side, barely awake when he heard it—a soft, hesitant knock at the door.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, the sound so light it could’ve been the wind rattling the screen. But then it came again, firmer this time.

Grumbling under his breath, Max swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He shuffled to the door in nothing but his boxers, too groggy to care about decency.

When he pulled the door open, he froze.

There she was, standing on the cracked wooden steps of his trailer.

She looked like she’d stepped out of another world—her crisp white blouse tucked into a pale blue skirt that swayed lightly in the breeze, her hair perfectly combed and pinned back. But her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, and there was a tremble in her lip that told him she’d been crying.

Her gaze flicked downward, catching sight of his bare chest and boxer-clad frame. Her face flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Max blinked, his grogginess evaporating in an instant. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the ground like she couldn’t meet his eyes. He stepped back, holding the door open wider. “You wanna come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping over the threshold.

As she entered, the contrast between her polished appearance and the rough, lived-in state of his trailer couldn’t have been starker. The cramped space was cluttered with tools, half-empty coffee mugs, and a laundry basket overflowing with clothes. She looked out of place, like a dove dropped into the middle of a storm.

Max closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself. “I… I didn’t want to stay at home,” she said quietly.

The way her voice cracked on the last word made his chest tighten.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping closer but keeping his distance, giving her space to speak.

She shook her head, her fingers gripping her bag tighter. “I… I snuck out,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew. He’d known for weeks.

Finally, she looked up at him, tears brimming in her wide, frightened eyes. “It’s my daddy,” she whispered. “He… he hits me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body going rigid. “How long’s this been going on?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

She looked away, her gaze darting to the corner of the room as if she could hide from the question. “As long as I can remember,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

Max swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to punch something, to drag her father out into the street and make him pay. But more than anything, he wanted to make her feel safe.

“You should’ve told someone,” he said, his voice softer now, though the anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Her eyes snapped back to his, a flash of fear and desperation in them. “I couldn’t,” she said quickly. “I can’t. If people knew, it’d ruin everything. My daddy’s the preacher. People look up to him. They’d never believe me.”

Max stepped closer, his rough hands itching to reach out and touch her, to ground her somehow. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to go back there,” he said firmly. “You can stay here. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Her gaze softened, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Why do you care so much?”

Max let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think I can just stand by and let this happen? After everything I’ve seen…” He paused, meeting her gaze head-on. “You’re not like the rest of us. You don’t belong in a place like that.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. She looked like she might say something, but then a tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said suddenly, backing toward the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering me,” Max said firmly, cutting her off.

She hesitated, her hand hovering near the door handle.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decide whether she could trust him. Finally, she nodded, just barely, and let her hand fall away from the door.

Max rubbed the back of his neck again, his eyes never leaving her face as she stood there, caught between leaving and staying. He could see the battle in her—wanting to run but needing something, someone, to anchor her.

“You can stay here tonight,” he said, his voice steady but gentle, like he was trying not to spook her.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. She looked around the cramped trailer, at the cluttered counters and the sagging couch, her delicate hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t know…” she started, her voice faltering.

“No one’ll bother you here,” Max said, stepping closer. “You’ll be safe. And if you want to leave in the morning, you can. No strings.”

She bit her lip, the hesitation etched in every line of her face.

“But…” she whispered, looking up at him, “I need to go to Sunday service.”

Max blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone.

“While I’m mad at my daddy,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, “I still have to go. I can’t not be there. It’s… it’s important to me.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet plea wrapped in conviction.

Max nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take you,” he said simply. “First thing in the morning.”

She blinked up at him, a flicker of relief crossing her features. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Scout’s honor.”

That drew a small, hesitant smile from her, though it quickly faded as her gaze dropped to the floor again.

“I’ll stay,” she said softly, almost like she didn’t believe the words herself.

Max exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “Good. Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the trailer. “It’s not much, but it’s better than where you came from.”

She nodded, her movements stiff and unsure, like she didn’t quite know how to exist in this space.

“I gotta get to work,” Max added, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Bed is yours, and there’s food in the fridge—though, fair warning, it’s mostly leftovers and beer.”

That earned him a faint, almost amused look, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

Max hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, careful, but firm enough to ground her.

“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice low but certain.

She nodded again, her gaze flicking up to meet his, and for a moment, the silence between them felt warm, comforting.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, stepping toward his makeshift bedroom grabbing some clothes and slipping them on. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me, alright? Danny down the road has my number, he’s got the graffiti all over his trailer.”

“Alright,” she replied, her voice steadier now.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Max stepped out into the morning light, the door clicking shut behind him. As he walked toward his beat-up car, a strange mix of emotions swirled in his chest—anger, protectiveness, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

She’d taken a risk coming to him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

Max worked through the afternoon with his head barely in the game. The thought of her in his trailer—his space—kept creeping into his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, looking so out of place, like she belonged somewhere far away from this rundown world he inhabited. The image of her soft eyes and trembling lip haunted him as he fixed engines and cleaned up at the shop.

By the time he came back to the trailer, the evening sun had already dipped behind the horizon, casting a pale, dusky glow over everything. He turned the key in the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet.

And then he froze.

The trailer didn’t look the same.

It was spotless.

The clutter on the counters, the dirty dishes, the laundry piled up in the corner—all of it was gone. The floor was swept, the counters wiped down, and there was even a faint smell of something cooking, something hearty and savory. Max took a step inside, his eyes scanning the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

And there she was, standing in the kitchen.

She had slipped into one of his old band t-shirts—black and faded with the edges curling up—and paired it with the skirt she’d worn earlier. Her hair was still down, a little messy from the day, but there was something about the way she moved around his space that made her seem... at ease. She was focused on the stove, stirring something in a pot, humming quietly to herself as if she belonged.

Max felt a sudden knot in his stomach, a wave of desire mixed with something deeper—something protective. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping down to her legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt, and then back up to her face. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in what she was doing, and he took a few moments to just watch her.

She looked so out of place in his world—his messy, cluttered world—but at the same time, she fit perfectly.

She caught sight of him, and a warm, almost shy smile spread across her face. "I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I found some stuff in the cupboard. It’s not much, but I thought… I could make you something."

Max’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea she could cook.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice rough with something unspoken. He stepped further into the trailer, noticing that she’d even made the bed. The blankets were neatly arranged, the pillow fluffed, the whole room looking like it belonged in some kind of hotel. It felt... new.

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's the least I could do. You’ve been so kind to me... I wanted to help, in some way."

Max ran a hand over his jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close. Her presence was intoxicating, her gentle kindness disarming. The way she stood there, so effortless in his space, made something inside him shift. His heart beat faster as he moved toward the kitchen, unable to resist the pull of her.

She turned back to the stove, unaware of the war going on inside him. He couldn’t help but glance at the way her shirt rode up on her thighs, the curve of her hips, and the soft skin of her exposed legs. His mind flashed to earlier—when she’d stepped into his trailer with those wide eyes, trembling and vulnerable. And now, she was here, looking like she belonged to him in ways she probably didn’t even realise.

His hands clenched at his sides. He needed to calm down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything up,” he said, trying to focus on something other than how badly he wanted to kiss her, touch her, feel her beneath his hands.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, her voice soft. “It felt wrong to just sit around, so I figured I could do something. It’s a mess here, but I… I wanted it to feel like home for a bit.”

Home.

The word hit him harder than he expected. Max didn’t know what it meant to feel at home. His life had always been a constant hustle, scraping by, living in his car, barely getting by. But here, with her, in the middle of this trailer—he felt like maybe he could understand it, just a little bit.

She stirred the pot again, and Max took a deep breath. His body was tight with the need to do something—to touch her, hold her—but he fought it down.

He stepped closer, casually leaning against the counter. “You sure you’re okay with all this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, casual.

She glanced at him, her eyes soft but unreadable. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing, her gaze steady. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared, Max.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. Her skin was soft, delicate, and his pulse skipped in response. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at him either.

Max leaned in just slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, in the quietest voice, almost as if she were speaking to herself, she whispered, “I believe you.”

And in that moment, something inside Max shifted completely. He didn’t just want her. He needed to protect her. To keep her from harm.

The tension in the air was thick, and he knew if he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. His hand lingered on hers for just a second longer before he pulled away, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Let’s eat,” he said, trying to mask the urgency in his voice, trying to ground himself again.

Max didn’t have a proper dining table—hell, he barely had enough room for his sofa—but tonight, that didn’t matter.

He took a seat on the old sofa, and she settled beside him, carefully placing the plates of food between them. The smell of whatever she’d made filled the air—something simple but satisfying, with just a hint of warmth that made it feel like a real meal. It was the first time in a while that Max had felt something other than hunger when he sat down to eat.

As she set her fork down and looked at her hands, she murmured something under her breath, her voice soft and steady. Max was halfway through a bite when he realised she was praying.

He watched her quietly, noting the calmness in her demeanor, the way her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her lips moved with the words, a quiet reverence that made the air in the room feel still, almost sacred.

When she finished, she looked at him, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s just… habit.”

Max shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No need to apologise,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He found it cute—no, charming—how she prayed before every meal, how that simple act of faith seemed to give her some semblance of peace. He had no idea what that kind of peace felt like.

They ate quietly, the sound of forks scraping against plates the only noise between them. There was something almost intimate about this simple moment—the way she sat beside him, the way she kept her space but still seemed to fill the room.

It wasn’t long before Max’s mind started to wander again, and his gaze drifted down to her hand as she picked up her glass of water. He noticed the ring on her finger, the simple silver band catching the light.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, though his stomach clenched slightly.

She looked down at it, almost absentmindedly, before meeting his gaze. “It’s a purity ring,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent.

Max froze, his fork half-raised to his mouth. A purity ring. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, a wave of something dark and primal swirling beneath the surface. She wore it like a promise, a promise to stay pure, to wait for marriage, to avoid the kinds of things he’d spent most of his life seeking out—things he wasn’t sure he could even offer her if she wanted them.

His thoughts scrambled, his chest tightening. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and shifted on the couch, trying to ignore the tightening in his jeans. He couldn’t help himself. The idea of her—innocent, pure, wearing a ring like that—drove him mad. It made him think things he shouldn’t, things that went against the very core of who she was.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. “I, uh… I think you should take the bed,” he said abruptly. “I’ll crash here on the couch.”

She gave him a soft look, her expression kind, though there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t used to accepting charity—or favours of any kind.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at the bed and then back at him.

She stood up, taking both their plates to the sink and left him in the makeshift living room.

Max settled back onto the small couch, but sleep didn’t come easy. He was restless, his mind too filled with thoughts of her, her innocence, her sweetness, and that damn purity ring. Even though there was a whole doorframe separating the two of them, the room felt too small. His chest too tight. His body too aware of everything that was happening in that tiny space between them.

Eventually, he shifted again, sighing in frustration as he tossed the blanket off of himself. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was too small for someone his size. He needed to stretch out.

A few minutes later, he heard the soft creak of the floorboards. He turned his head slightly, squinting through the dim light. She was standing in the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of his beside table.

“Max?” Her voice was soft, tentative.

He sat up, blinking. “Yeah?”

“I—uh, I can’t sleep,” she admitted, stepping further into the room. “And you look... uncomfortable on the couch.” She hesitated, then bit her lip. “Would you, um, want to sleep in the bed with me? Just... just for tonight?”

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He should’ve said no. He knew he should’ve. But she was standing there in his shirt, her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and her eyes—those soft, uncertain eyes—were pleading with him in a way that made him feel like he was the one who needed her comfort.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tight.

She nodded, her hands trembling just slightly as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please. I just—” She paused, biting her lip, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Max’s heart twisted in his chest. He could’ve said something else—told her it was fine, that she should rest, or something like that. But he was done with pretending he didn’t want to be close to her, to feel her next to him.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “But, uh... let me put on a shirt.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he could’ve sworn he saw the smallest flicker of a smile on her lips. “Okay,” she whispered, turning her back to give him some space.

He grabbed a random shirt from the pile of clean laundry on the floor, pulling it on over his bare chest, and then slipped under the covers beside her. She had already crawled under the blankets, pulling them tightly around her.

Max settled in beside her, keeping a careful distance at first. But the bed was small, and it didn’t take long for her to inch closer. He could feel her warmth at his side, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the delicate scent of her hair mixing with the familiar scent of his worn sheets.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the trailer, casting a soft glow across the room. Max slowly woke up, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her soft breathing filling the quiet room.

For a moment, Max just stayed still, letting the comfort of her closeness wash over him. His arm had instinctively wrapped around her while they slept, and he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

But as his body began to wake up fully, so did a familiar discomfort: the pressure of his morning problem, straining against the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught, and he tried to shift subtly, hoping she wouldn’t wake up and notice the situation. She didn’t. She just remained nestled against him, her breath slow and steady.

Max let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the growing tension in his body. He kept his arm around her for a moment longer, relishing the softness of her against him, before reluctantly moving it.

Her movements eventually stirred him from his thoughts, though. He felt her shift and heard her small, quiet sigh as she began to stir. She slowly pushed herself up and away from him, the weight of her head leaving his chest.

Max watched as she stood up, stretching lightly before walking toward the small kitchen area. The simple act of her moving around his trailer felt domestic, a little surreal. He never imagined a girl like her would be here, in his space, making herself at home.

She turned on the old coffee maker and started washing the dishes from the night before, humming softly to herself. Her bare feet moved across the worn linoleum floor as she worked, picking up the plates, scrubbing them clean with a kind of focused determination. Max watched her, a little mesmerised by the way she went about everything with ease. She was so domestic, so... pure.

After a while, she glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said quietly. “I usually make something nice on a Sunday.”

Max shook his head, trying to get his bearings. “I don’t mind at all.” His voice was still rough with sleep. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly and got to work, preparing eggs, toast, and whatever else she could find in his meager supplies. Max sat up, rubbing his eyes. He watched her as she moved, the way her shirt clung to her in all the right places, how she seemed so comfortable here despite how out of place she looked in his world.

Eventually, she finished up with the dishes and turned to him. “I need to get ready for church.” Her eyes softened a little, as though she could sense the hesitation in his. “Can y—“

“I’ll take you. I just don’t have a car right now. It’s in the garage.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a moment, Max thought she might protest, but instead, she just nodded. “Okay.”

He took a quick shower and threw on some old jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t exactly have a wardrobe that screamed “church-going,” but it was the best he could do. He wasn’t there to make a statement anyway—just to get her there and make sure she was safe.

When he stepped out of the small bathroom, he found her already dressed in her Sunday best—yesterday’s shirt and skirt with a cardigan she must have pulled out her bag. Her hair was perfectly styled, like she’d just walked out of a church bulletin. She looked so out of place in his trailer, so polished and pristine compared to the worn, dirty space they were in.

Max grabbed his helmet and walked over to her, holding it out. “Here,” he said, the words laced with a slight smirk. “You’re gonna need this.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t argue. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You’re not walking to church, and you’re definitely not riding behind me without it.” He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

With a small, reluctant smile, she took the helmet from him, adjusting it over her head, the loose strands of her hair sticking out slightly. Max handed her the extra jacket he had and then motioned to the door. “Let’s get going. I’ll get you there early so no one sees you.”

She nodded, slipping on the jacket and walking toward the door with him. Max grabbed the keys to his bike and headed outside, securing the helmet on her head.

The engine of his old bike roared to life, the sound rattling the air around them. Max felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the wind in his face as they drove, but his focus wasn’t on the speed or the feel of the bike. It was on her, sitting behind him, her body pressed close to his, the weight of her on his back both grounding and electrifying him.

They took the back roads, keeping a low profile, making sure no one would notice them together. Max didn’t want to bring any attention to her. He didn’t want anyone to see her with him, not yet. She was too pure, too innocent to be caught up in his world.

They arrived just before everyone else, the small church looming in front of them as the sun began to rise. Max parked the bike in the back and cut the engine, then turned to look at her.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said softly, slipping off the bike.

Max nodded, watching her walk toward the steps of the church, her figure straight and composed. As she walked away from him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—something he couldn’t quite name. It was a mix of jealousy, admiration, and something darker that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He didn’t know why he stayed in the parking lot. Maybe it was the quiet that clung to the air after the service ended, or maybe it was the feeling of something unfinished between him and her. He waited, watching as the congregation filed out of the church, families chatting, some with smiles on their faces, others with the weight of the week still on their shoulders.

He saw her mother, walking alongside her brother, exchanging a few words with the other churchgoers. But no sign of her. His gaze swept over the parking lot once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she had stayed behind for a little longer.

Minutes passed, and Max’s unease grew. She hadn’t come out.

Frowning, he swung his leg off the bike and walked toward the church’s front doors. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to check on her, but something in him insisted. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if sensing danger.

Max approached the side of the church, his boots scraping the gravel beneath him. A faint voice reached his ears—just a whisper at first, but then it grew louder, more frantic. It sounded like shouting, distorted by the walls of the building, but it was unmistakably hers.

His heart skipped a beat.

He moved quickly toward the sound, pushing open a side door. The hallway inside was dimly lit, the walls cold and echoing with every step. He followed the noise, barely hearing his own footsteps as he crept closer to the source.

And then he saw them.

She was on the floor, her hands trembling in front of her, her back hunched as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Her father was standing over her, his voice a low growl of fury, loud enough to rattle the air between them.

“You’re a dirty slut!” he spat. “You’re going to hell for what you’ve done!”

Max’s blood ran cold, and for a moment, he didn’t think.

With a quick motion, he stepped forward, his voice calm but cold. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The preacher spun around, his face twisted with rage, recognizing Max.

“Stay out of this, boy,” the preacher growled, his hand still raised in the air.

But before the preacher could make another move, she stood up, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—hope? Maybe it was desperation.

Without a second thought, she ran toward Max. She didn’t hesitate, her arms reaching out to him as if he were her only anchor in the storm.

“Max,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear, but Max felt the weight of it all the same.

Max put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so that she was standing slightly behind him. His eyes never left the preacher, his voice steady.

“You know, preacher,” Max began, his voice low and measured, “God loves justice and establishes equity.” He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling something. “Psalm 99:4, right? I’m sure that’s a scripture I heard your daughter read once in Bible study. Can’t be exerting your authority in such ways, can you?”

The preacher’s face went red with anger, his hands balling into fists. “Get out of here, boy. This is none of your business.”

Max didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “It’s none of my business. But I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

He motioned to her. “Go wait by the bike.” His voice softened just for her, the harshness fading away. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated for just a moment, looking at him like she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and walked quickly toward the door. Max watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest.

The preacher made a move to stop her, but Max stepped forward, his patience snapping.

“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Max growled.

The preacher lunged at him, but Max was faster, his fist connecting with the preacher’s jaw before he had a chance to land a blow. The sound of the punch echoed in the small hallway, and the preacher staggered backward, his hands gripping the edge of the wall for support.

Max stepped forward, his voice cold. “I don’t care who you think you are. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The preacher was on his knees now, his face a mixture of shock and fury. Max didn’t wait to hear more. He turned on his heel, walking out the door to find her standing by his bike, waiting as if she hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a storm.

He nodded to her, not saying anything more, his mind racing with the anger he’d just unleashed. But all he wanted now was to get her away from here, away from him.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, handing her the helmet.

She didn’t say anything as she put it on, but the silent understanding between them spoke volumes. Max revved the engine, feeling the rush of power beneath him as he led her away from the church, away from the hell that had just erupted there.

The ride back to the trailer was eerily quiet. Max could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and heavy, the weight of everything that had just happened hanging between them. She sat behind him, her grip tight on his waist, but there was no laughter, no playful banter like there had been before. It felt like the world had shifted somehow, and the silence stretched endlessly as they rode.

Max didn’t glance back at her. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road, but all he could think about was what he’d just done. He knew he’d put himself in danger, confronting her father like that. He didn’t care. But for the first time, he couldn’t ignore the burning question: What did he really think he was doing?

The only sound on the road was the roar of the engine beneath them, a constant reminder of the distance they had yet to travel. Every twist and turn of the road seemed to reflect the turmoil inside of him, but he had no words for it, no way to express the chaos in his head.

When they finally pulled into the trailer park, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the worn pavement. Max parked the bike and cut the engine, the sudden silence of the world around them making the tension between them all the more palpable.

They didn’t speak as they walked inside, the door creaking as it opened into the small, dimly lit space. Max stepped aside to let her enter first, but the moment the door closed behind them, she removed the helmet and her composure seemed to crumble.

She stood there for a long moment, just breathing, as if she was trying to collect herself, but it was clear she wasn’t okay. Max watched her, his heart tightening when he saw the tears beginning to well in her eyes. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Before he could say anything, she collapsed into him. Her body shook as she buried her face against his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. Max’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his own breath shaky from the unexpected surge of emotion he felt at seeing her so broken.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’ve got you, shhh.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to cry, the sound raw and heartbreaking. Max gently ran his hand down her back, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. He wiped the tears off her face with his thumb, brushing her hair back from her forehead. His chest tightened with every sob that wracked her body, every quiet sob that he couldn’t take away.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly, though his words felt powerless against the pain she was clearly feeling. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it, sweetheart.”

She pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face making his chest ache even more. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, a rawness that shook him to his core. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. He could see everything in her expression, the hurt and confusion and fear.

Without a word, Max guided her to the small bed in the corner of the trailer, not sure what else to do. He wanted to fix everything, to make her feel safe, but he knew that wasn’t something he could do with words alone.

They sat on the edge of the bed, and she let him help her lie down. He crawled in next to her, his arm draping over her shoulders as she curled up against him. The space felt small, but it was warm. She was warm.

Max didn’t say anything as he laid beside her, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He just held her. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet, like the calm after the storm, both of them lost in the stillness of the moment.

Her breathing eventually slowed, her sobs quieter now, though her body still trembled slightly from the emotions that had flooded her. Max stayed close, not letting go. His fingers gently traced the outline of her arm as he held her close, not knowing exactly what to say to make it better, but knowing that being there, holding her, was enough—for now.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his voice soft and unwavering, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not anymore.”

Then a weird thought came to Max as he watched hee sleep in his arms.

She’d prayed for his peace.

And while he wasn’t a believer.

He sure as hell felt at peace.

part two out now!

843 notes · View notes

intoblonde6ftwbbplayers · 7 days ago

Text

HEADCANNON Paige x reader (w a tongue piercing n shit)

pairing : paige x reader

warnings: piercings tattoos mentions obvs

not edited sorry!! lowk got carried away but we're chilling

in high school you decided you wanted a tongue piercing

you got it and absolutely loved it of course

for some reason it always seemed to shock people when you would play with it unconsciously

if they didn't already know about your tattoos or piercings

they always said "wow you don't look like you have any piercings"

you didn't understand why because you had a couple

4 on each ear, your tongue, nipples, and for a while even considering getting one somewhere lower but then deciding that maybe your pain tolerance had limits

maybe one day

you also had tattoos

a "tramp stamp", some flowers REALLY high up on your outer thigh, behind your ear your lucky number 8, a butterfly on your hip, and the year your childhood dog was born on your upper arm

not that most people would ever get to see them

you met Paige and started dating

she LOVES your tongue piercing

she could watch you play with it absentmindedly for hours

she also was shocked when she saw it the first time

but she then quickly corrected herself telling you how good it looked

she never really cared for facial piercings or tattoos

she never thought it was something she preferred on others or on herself

after meeting you that changed obviously

even if you didn't "look" like it, you had many tattoos and had a good amount of piercings

which made the fact you had them so much better in her opinion

Paige absolutely loved every single one

she loved the fact that most people would never get to see them too

the first time you bent over to pick something up and paige saw the ink on your lower back she knew it was over for her

of course she immediately asked you if you had any other surprises like that

you said yes and told her exactly how many tattoos and piercings you had

and where

safe to say she chocked on air when you told her

the first time you guys kissed and she felt the piece of jewelry in your mouth it was like she had died and gone to heaven

paige swore she had never been so affected by a kiss in her life

she is addicted to the feeling of your body with its piercings in her mouth

even if it doesn't turn into anything she loves having her mouth on them

paige likes kissing you and feeling the cool metal against both your tongues

or the contrast of the hard jewelry with your soft chest

paige is also addicted to tracing your tattoos with her tongue

as well as using marker to color them in

since the start of your relationship you've gotten a few more tattoos

not filled in of course so she can color them whenever

a couple months ago you told her you wanted a belly button piercing

paige of course was on board instantly telling you how hot you would look with it

she definitely said something like "ma you'd look so fine, get it"

she goes to the appointment with you of course and helps you clean it and take care of it in the weeks after

she thinks she falls in love with you a little more if that was even possible once she see's it fully healed for the first time

paige loves loves loves your piercings and your tattoos but if she had to pick a favorite it's definitely your tongue piercing

and the butterfly on your hip (it's purple)

you've talked to her about considering a certain piercing that goes a little lower than your naval

she literally forgot how to breathe for a second

paige turned the brightest shade of red you've ever seen in your life

she started picturing it as you explained where it go and what it would look like

she silently started thanking god for your love of body art and jewelry

and of course your pain tolerance to be able to get them is certain places

paige never knew that she would like tattoos or piercings on others until she met you

and now she couldn't live without them or you.

321 notes · View notes

izzih22 · 11 days ago

Note

maybe paige is on her period and a hormonal wreck and crampy but didn’t tell azzi because she didn’t want to worry her and the next day in practice she missed an easy layup or geno yelled at her and she burst into tears and everyone was shocked and azzi didn’t know why paige was so upset and then paige cried again when she forgot extra stuff and then everyone made fun of her after practice or something (lightheartedly ofc) especially nika or ice and then the next day at practice she cried again and geno was confused and then nika or ice or whoever you choose laughed at her (they still cared for her) and then they get their period as well and paige cried to azzi obv lol

Hormones And Huskies

Note: I think I got it all. I also think this one’s pretty funny ngl😂

It starts with the cramps.

Not the kind Paige can ignore, either — not the dull ache she usually powers through with Advil and a heating pad and pure stubbornness. No, these are gnarly. The kind that make her curl up in bed and go, “Is this what dying feels like?”

But there’s a game this weekend. Film to study. Practice to run. Expectations to meet. So she takes three ibuprofen, pretends she’s fine, and doesn’t tell Azzi. She knows Azzi would worry, or hover, or pull her out of drills, and Paige doesn’t want any of that. She just wants to be a functioning human being.

Unfortunately, her body has other plans.

⸻

Day 1: The Meltdown

Practice is intense. Full-speed scrimmage, Geno yelling, girls diving for loose balls like it’s the Final Four.

Paige is playing fine, considering. But then she misses a layup. A bunny. Wide open. Her bread and butter.

She hears Geno’s voice before she even lands. “PAIGE! That’s a layup! A LAYUP! What are we doing?!”

Normally she’d nod, shake it off, and lock in. But today?

Her throat tightens. Her chest caves.

Before she can stop it, tears are sliding down her cheeks.

And not like, discreet watery eyes. No. Full-on red-faced, silent-crying, why am I sobbing tears.

The gym goes quiet.

“Uh…” Ice mutters. “Did someone just break Paige?”

Nika, confused and mildly alarmed, lowers her water bottle. “Is she crying? Is this real? Is this a prank?”

Azzi’s halfway across the court before anyone else can move, eyes wide, worried but calm. She doesn’t say anything, just touches Paige’s elbow gently.

Paige sniffles. “I’m fine.”

“You’re definitely not,” Azzi says, voice low and even.

Paige wipes her face with her jersey, which only makes it worse. Now she looks blotchy and like she has a toddler’s level of emotional regulation.

“Y-you’re gonna think I’m being stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head. “I literally never think that.”

Paige opens her mouth to respond — and bursts into tears again.

KK leans over to Ice. “This is above our pay grade.”

Ice nods solemnly. “I think we broke the golden retriever.”

⸻

Later that day

After practice, Paige opens her locker and realizes she left her extra compression shorts and backup socks in her dorm.

She stares into the empty space.

And starts crying again.

Azzi turns from her own locker, alarmed. “Paige?! What happened?!”

Paige wails, “I FORGOT MY SECOND PAIR OF SOCKS!”

Nika chokes on her protein shake. “No shot you’re crying over socks.”

“I’m emotionally fragile!” Paige shouts through her tears. “I don’t know what’s happening to me!”

⸻

Day 2: The Chaos Multiplies

The next morning, Paige wakes up still crampy, bloated, and emotionally unstable. She considers faking sick. But that’s not who she is.

Unfortunately, that means she’s crying on the court again. This time because Geno raised his voice while giving her a defensive assignment.

He doesn’t even yell. Just talks firmly.

Cue: Tears.

Geno stares at her, lost.

“What — are you crying again?!”

Paige sniffles. “I don’t know whyyyyy.”

KK hides behind Nika, whispering, “She’s been hacked. We need a factory reset.”

Ice looks around. “We should get a medic.”

Even Azzi, usually calm in the face of Paige-related madness, is speechless. “Okay, babe. What is going on?”

And that’s when Paige finally breaks.

“I’m on my period and I feel like a walking hormone and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry and now I can’t stop crying and I’m sorry if I’m annoying but I really needed my second pair of socks yesterday and I miss my heating pad and I—”

Azzi puts her hands on Paige’s shoulders. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Paige whimpers. “I’m just also dying.”

⸻

Team Chaos: Fully Activated

Once the truth’s out, the floodgates open.

Azzi wraps her up in a hug and kisses her forehead. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve helped.”

“I didn’t wanna be weak.”

“You’re not. You’re just hormonal. There’s a difference.”

Nika, hearing the last part, nods solemnly. “Yup. Been there. I once cried over a grilled cheese.”

KK pipes up, “I cried watching a turtle cross the road.”

Ice shrugs. “I cried in Target because I couldn’t decide between two brands of deodorant.”

“Wait…” KK frowns, rubbing her stomach. “Why do I kinda feel like…”

Ice squints. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

Nika’s eyes widen. “Wait. You guys—?”

“NOOOOOO,” Ice groans. “It’s happening.”

Paige stares at them in horror. “Did I… start the wave?!”

KK collapses dramatically on the bench. “You contaminated us!”

Azzi is dying laughing now, Paige buried in her shoulder, sniffling but giggling through it.

Geno walks by, sees four girls laying on the floor and Paige being spooned by Azzi in the corner.

He pauses. Blinks. Keeps walking.

“I don’t want to know,” he mutters.

⸻

Post-Practice: Team Roast Session

In the locker room, the mood’s lighter. Paige has fully embraced the fact that she’s now the emotional mascot of the team.

She sits curled up next to Azzi, sipping Gatorade, while Nika sits across from her smirking.

“You really cried over socks?”

“Yes.”

KK adds, “And a missed layup.”

“And Geno’s tone of voice,” Ice contributes.

Azzi, lovingly rubbing Paige’s back: “Let’s not forget the great heating pad monologue.”

“Shut up,” Paige groans, shoving her face into Azzi’s shoulder.

Nika pulls out her phone. “I’m writing a memoir. ’The Period Chronicles: Week of Tears.’ You’re chapter one.”

Paige mutters, “I hate all of you.”

Azzi kisses her temple. “You love us.”

“Only you,” Paige mumbles, pouting harder. “And maybe the heating pad.”

⸻

Day 3: It’s All Downhill from Here

By the third day, it’s officially team-wide.

KK and Ice are dragging through warmups, groaning every five minutes. Nika’s got a heating pack tucked into the waistband of her shorts. Geno looks haunted.

Paige? Still crying occasionally. But now it’s funny.

Like when she got misty-eyed because Azzi passed her a water bottle and said “you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Or when Ice said “nice cut” and Paige got overwhelmed by the support.

She sniffled, “I love us.”

KK yelled, “WE’RE LITERALLY JUST PRACTICING.”

⸻

Final Scene: Softness Overload

That night, Paige is curled up in Azzi’s bed, a heating pad on her stomach, a blanket around her shoulders, and a bag of chocolate chips in her lap.

“I’m sorry I was a hormonal disaster,” she mumbles.

Azzi smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You were adorable.”

“I cried like… seven times.”

“You’re human.”

“I also started a period chain reaction.”

Azzi laughs softly. “You’re a leader, remember?”

Paige snorts and buries her face in Azzi’s neck. “You’re so annoying for loving me this much.”

Azzi holds her tighter. “You can cry every day for the rest of our lives and I’ll still love you.”

Paige lets out a choked laugh. “Don’t say that or I will cry again.”

Azzi just kisses her cheek and whispers, “Bring it on.”

#paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #paige and azzi #pazzi

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myrrusstuff · 4 months ago

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"Dinner party" | Vamp!Teen!Vi x Fem!reader

Pairing: Vamp!Teen!Violet x Human!Fem!Reader. | CW: Suggestive? not too much. they’re still young after all. Blood & Vampire feeding obv. Cursing. | Vi needs you while she’s trying to learn how to rein in her instincts. | WC; 706 | CC; 3.9K

You’re contemplating what to wear to the outing tonight, your fingers carding through your wardrobe. You settle on something simple, shorts and a baggy tee. I mean, you don’t want to overthink it, might as-well go for a casual choice. Vander had invited you over, as you’re Vi’s closest friend. You’ve been best friends ever since you were younger, inseparable almost. No one could get you to stop hanging out, even when you caused trouble together. Grounded? You’d just sneak out to the other’s house. It was second nature at this point. Although, at this dinner you won’t be the only guest. Vi’s brothers and sister will also have friends over. You’re not usually keen on big get togethers, but you make the effort to go, for Vi.

As you arrive, you notice a few boys already at the door, speaking to Vander and heading inside. You recognise them from school; though you’ve never spoken to them apart from maybe asking to borrow a pen. You assume they’re Mylo and Claggor’s friends, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. Why are you afraid? That’s stupid. This place is essentially your second home. Cmon, snap out of it! You are in-fact, snapped out of it, as you notice Vi in the doorway, in a passionate discussion with Vander. Your expression softens as you realise the boys must’ve already slipped past him, and you stroll up to the door. "Hello, Mr Vander" you say softly. "Just Vander is fine, I’ve been telling you that for ages. Really, any friend of Vi’s can just call me Vander." He corrects and you hastily nod. You would’ve spent more time hanging around, talking to those around you, but before you can process anything, Vi is already grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room.

Before you can even realise what’s happening, you’re met with Vi’s piercing stare. She’s managed to climb onto your lap, holding you still with her weight, although she’s careful not to hurt you. Fuck, what is she doing? You expect her to stop, to climb off, or atleast speak. But she just sits there. She’s just sat there, panting softly as if trying to catch her breath. You feel the air around you become heavier, an undercurrent of tension surrounding you that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but noticeable. Vi’s face is inching closer, her heartbeat racing, you can hear it. Her warm breath fanning your face, making a shiver run up your spine. You can’t help but think.. is she actually going to kiss you? Is it really happening?

Your thought process is cut off by the feeling of a sudden 'prick' in your neck, you feel a warm liquid seep down. Oh! Oh. Vi buried her face in your neck, not that you mind. Infact, you tilt your head to the side, embracing the burning feeling her fangs give you as they draw blood. This had never happened before, Vi had never even gotten close to loosing control, this is new. Even though you’ve always been aware Vi was from a vampire lineage, you had never expected to be in such a position. Vi’s knee between your legs as she’s ontop of you, her face buried in your neck, albeit fangs too, but still. You can hear her breathing begin to calm, returning back to normal as she slowly drinks. She’s almost.. gentle. Gentle is a foreign concept for Vi, it’s always been as though she didn’t know what the word even meant. Though, maybe that was just her being a traditional reckless teen. This.. this was different. She was actively trying to keep you safe, keep you comfortable. You can’t help but let out a slight whimper at the compromising position mixed with the strange sensation filling your neck and chest. The noise causes Vi to still, pulling back slightly. "Did you just..?" She murmurs. Your face turns pink, and in a last attempt to void her seeing you all flustered, you gently push her head back towards your neck. "..shut up," you respond sharply, though there’s no real aggression in your tone. You feel her sink her teeth back in, relaxing into your touch again. Yeah, you could get used to this.

Notes;; This was re uploaded from my old blog @myrruwrites. It was kinda lazy,, and I dunno how to feel about it but I love vamp Vi!!!

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myrruwrites · 4 months ago

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"Dinner party" | Vamp!Teen!Vi x Fem!reader

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genderlessdude92 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE) SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons) WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night

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END NOTES: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Lynn

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Masterlist Link

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #lucifer x reader

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sunvmars · 2 years ago

Text

bitter sweet | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader

next ↠

word count: 2.8k

warnings: obv swearing, pregnancy/pregnant reader, some angst that's mainly reader trying to cover up hidden emotions

summary: you've grown to resent steve after a breakup and give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news.

a/n: definitely turning this into a series if it gains enough traction!

It was a warm summer evening like any other when Steve had asked you to come straight home after work, insisting he had something important to talk about. You had entered your shared apartment with expectations of a nice dinner or a movie night. Considering Steve was always one for suspension, surprise plans and at-home date nights weren't unusual.

You set your purse down on the table by the front door before sinking into your favorite recliner. The setting sun cast a glow amongst the living room that you greatly appreciated, although it was a glow that was far too beautiful to be wasted on that night.

"Steve! I'm home!"

Only a few seconds after you'd called out had he come, practically, running. He came to sit on the couch, only a few feet away, his expression conflicted.

"I missed you today," you said.

You beamed at your fiancé, simply happy to see him after another shitty work day. While you were an Avenger, you stuck to mainly office work when you had no missions.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n, honey, I think we need to talk."

Your heart sank, and a lump formed in your throat. You knew Steve like the back of your hand, and every time he has said the words "we need to talk," it's never been good.

"Is Buck sneaking over to eat all of our sweets again? I thought you talked to him about that," you joked in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Funnily enough, no, he hasn't done that in a few days."

"Well, don't jinx it."

He chuckled briefly. His hands ran over his face as he sighed, and his broad shoulders relaxed.

"I've been thinking- a lot," he began, avoiding your gaze. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You hummed, giving him a nod that allowed him to continue.

"I love you, but..."

As soon as you had heard the "but," you tuned out. Whether it was by choice, or whether your mind and heart already knew what he was going to say and were just saving you the extra heartbreak, you weren't sure. You did, however, catch the last part of it. And luckily, the last part was all you needed to hear from him.

"I can't allow this to continue. I'm no good for you, y/n. I can't be the man you need or deserve right now. It's not fair to keep you waiting while I'm still trying to figure out what I want."

Your brows furrowed as your body started becoming tense. "What...?" you muttered.

It was less of a question and more of you thinking aloud, vocalizing your confusion. Unless you were a completely oblivious idiot, things between the two of you were fine yesterday, and every day before that for the last two years. He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret that you somehow missed.

"I... I can't take the risk anymore. I need to focus on my responsibilities and protecting the world. It's just... I can't let my personal life get in the way of my promise to the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could fall. You had the same job, so how could the man who had proposed only a few months ago just now, after two years, decide he couldn't make this work because of his job? Either way, that man didn't deserve your tears, so you wouldn't waste them on him. You stood quickly, not bothering to look back at him as you made your way towards the door.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Please say something, baby-"

"Don't! You don't get to call me that anymore," you snapped, finally allowing yourself to show some sort of emotion. "Just...stop. There's nothing else to say."

His eyes widened a little at your sudden outburst. You picked up your purse and keys hastily. Your fingers fidgeted with the keys for a moment, then you started sliding your house key off your keychain. It was then that you decided to speak again before he got the chance to, not caring to hear another word from him.

"I'll have someone come get my stuff tomorrow; do whatever you want with the apartment, as long as you don't have to contact me to do it."

"Y/n," he spoke with softened, glossy eyes, "please, just stay until you find somewhere else to go. This is your home too, I-"

"There's too much of you, well, what used to be us, here," you stated plainly as you placed your key on the table. "Where I go isn't your problem anymore anyway."

A sigh escaped your lips as you slung your purse over your shoulder. You turned to face him one last time as you stood in the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, "You are a fucking coward, Steven Grant Rogers."

The door slammed behind you. And what you'd left behind was a deeply regretful, and utterly stupid, Steve sitting alone on the couch in the apartment you once shared.

That was almost two months ago, and your heart had not allowed you to heal at all. As if seeing Steve in passing at work wasn't painful enough, now you had an important mission coming up tomorrow, and being chosen to go with him was inevitable. Or at least you thought it was inevitable. It had all started earlier in the morning with a rotten egg- an actual rotten egg, that is.

You were baking cookies for Bucky, fully aware of how much he'd miss your baked goods for the next week or two you would be gone. Over the time that you and Steve had dated and been engaged, you'd gotten pretty close with the brunette. He was equally supportive of both of you during the breakup. Though he did lay into Steve for leaving you. Bucky knew there was more to it than his job; both of you had the same job for Christ's sake, but he didn't push his friend for answers—at least not yet.

With one gentle motion, you cracked the egg on the side of your metal bowl. However, this egg had a smell to it. You brought it closer to your face to observe and smell it. What a horrible mistake, though, because as soon as you inhaled the sickening, sulfur-like scent, it made your stomach turn. But instead of going back to normal, you gagged. The scent was lingering longer than any other scent you'd ever smelled, almost as if you were permanently damned to having the smell stuck in your nostrils.

Then the hot stomach acid started coming up, and it was coming fast, signaling you needed a trashcan now. You bolted towards the nearest bathroom, preferring to take a chance on making a mess in a hallway rather than the kitchen. You passed Steve and Bucky on your way there, both men stopping dead in their tracks to watch as you ran into the bathroom only a few feet behind them.

"Huh," Steve mumbled, his heart throbbing at the sight of you.

"Sometimes I get sick when I look at you too, punk."

Bucky chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from Steve.

"Go check on her for me, please."

"Always. But I won't keep giving you updates on her, y'know? It's not fair to her, Steve," Bucky sighed.

Steve only nodded in understanding, a smile only staying on his lips for a few seconds. He patted Bucky's back before turning on his heels and continuing on his path.

Your stomach clenched harder, and the vomit raced up your throat faster than ever. You barely got to the toilet before retching and gagging again, feeling instant relief when the bile finally came up. But then came a sudden second wave of nausea that seemed to be worse than the first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the torture finally ended.

You stood up slowly and made your way to the sink. After tearing off a piece of paper towel, you dampened it under warm water. You wiped your mouth off with the damp napkin and threw it away before opening the door to leave.

"You okay?"

You jumped back slightly, looking over to meet piercing blue eyes. There was Bucky leaning up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his arms crossed.

"Jesus, Buck. You stalking me?"

"Stalking you? Definitely not. If I wanted to stalk someone, I'd find someone more interesting who doesn't eat half pints of vanilla bean ice cream and watch Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook every night," he jokes.

"Hey! It's how I cope and get over things; it's soothing."

"Yet you still pine over him, so how's that working out for ya?"

"...not great. Maybe I do need a new method, huh?"

The two of you exchange a laugh, and you start making your way back to the kitchen with Bucky right on your heels.

"So, are you okay?" he questions again.

"Just felt a little sick, that's all. And, hey, here's a tip: don't ever smell a rotten egg, it's not a pleasant experience," you say with a soft sigh.

He chuckles at your joke and replies, "Thank you for that. I'll remember that."

When you make it to the kitchen, he plants himself on a bar stool only a few feet away from you. You decide to continue making your cookies, holding your breath as you clean up the old egg.

"Wow, I can smell that from here. You weren't lying. That is bad."

His nose turns up and his face scrunches, earning a giggle from you. You two chat as you make the dough, and soon enough, you're finished baking. As you put the last cookies on the tray, Bucky stands up to get a closer look.

"God. Per usual, those smell amazing," he groans, reaching for one of the hot sweets.

You swat his hand away with a laugh. "Not until they're cooled down!"

He fakes a frown that makes you laugh again. You shake your head, making a 'tsk' noise at him.

"You're a menace, Buck," you joke.

He only shrugs his shoulders with a lopsided grin, then he pulls you into a hug. "Somebody has to get on your nerves. It keeps you distracted and on your feet," he teases.

"Thank you for being here for me."

Your body relaxes in his arms. You wrap your arms around his upper waist to return the sentiment. You take a deep breath and then pull away from the hug.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"It's almost like it never happened," you smirk.

"That's a lie, and you know it."

You're about to speak again, but close your mouth as soon as it opens. The nausea pools in your stomach again, forcing a huff out of you.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"You're still feeling that bad over it?"

"No, I genuinely think I'm gonna throw up again, Buck," you say hurriedly, pushing by him to get back to the bathroom. "Put those cookies in a bag, Barnes! They're all yours!"

He chuckles and holds his thumb up in the air, even though you can't see it. "And you get yourself to the doctor, l/n."

And going to the doctor is exactly what you chose to do.

Well, almost.

You instead chose to go to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and you only decided to go after about the fourth wave of nausea that came around five hours after the first. Which is how you ended up in the lab with grippy socks on and a cold Sprite in hand as you await blood and urine test results.

"So, how are you holding up, kid?" Tony asks, his eyes glued to his computer.

"Been better, had better days."

He looks away from his computer for a moment, making eye contact with you. "I could just kill him for hurting you, and I hope you know that," he states, his voice carrying nothing but genuine honesty.

"Aw, Tony, you're just like the dad I never dreamed of having—violently overprotective and overdramatic."

Bruce chuckles, but Tony just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his computer.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice to you," Tony scoffs, trying his best to hide the smile that wants to creep onto his face.

"I'm going to take a walk, Tony. I'll be back in a few minutes," Bruce announces as he rises from his chair. "If the computer beeps, it's her results coming back."

"Got it," Tony responds plainly, entirely too distracted by something on his screen.

The computer beeps only a few minutes after Bruce walks out, indicating an update to your information. Tony swivels his chair over to the big screen and pulls up your test results. He studies them carefully, not saying a word.

"So...what's wrong with me?"

He's still silent when he turns to face you. At first, he looks shocked, but then his brows furrow and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. If you hadn't known him for as long as you have, you'd think he was judging you based on his facial expression, but you knew he wasn't. He looked conflicted and confused, almost hesitant.

"What is it, Tone? You're freaking me out here. Is it the flu? A stomach bug? Food poisoning?"

"How about a baby?"

Your jaw drops, literally. The words pool in your mind, and your brain starts feeling like it's going to explode from all the different emotions and thoughts. You start to feel sick to your stomach again but manage to push the feeling down.

"I..." you start, unable to find the words to finish.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Bruce. We need to set you up with a doctor. I have an amazing one I can call to come here and-"

"I appreciate that, Tony, but I need time to think first. We'll, uhm, talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course," he empathizes, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "Come here, kid."

You shuffle your way into his open arms, not having the energy to return the hug. He pulls away after a few seconds and allows you to step back.

"I think I'm gonna go...or something... I don't know," you mumble, making your way towards the door.

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is something you want, don't let him ruin it for you."

As soon as you leave the lab, it's like you're on autopilot.

Your feet took you to the downstairs office, then outside, and then to your car. When you get into your car, you tell yourself you're going to the store to grab some more ice cream. But your heart has other ideas; ideas such as Steve.

So, you drive yourself all the way to Steve's apartment, just wanting to be comforted by the familiarity for a moment. Then, somehow, you end up outside the front door of what used to be your shared space.

Your soft knock pulls Steve from the closest to sleep he's been in weeks. He curses under his breath, loathing whoever is at the door for ruining his chance at a few minutes to hours of peace.

However, that hate replaces itself with regret and adoration as soon as he opens the door to reveal your slouched-over form. Steve recognizes that look on your face, along with your body language, and it's evident that something is wrong.

As if you showing up at his door isn't surprising enough, you look up at him before letting yourself fall into his arms. He stands in shock as you lay your head on his warm and familiarly sculpted chest. Then sobs wrack through you, shaking your whole body, and that's all it takes for him to give into instinct and wrap his arms around you. The heat of his body and the feeling of his embrace provide a warming comfort as you cry into his shirt, only coaxing you further to let it all go.

One of his hands rubs your back gently while he holds you. "Y/n? What's wrong, honey? Talk to me," he coos.

You feel a tightness in your chest, a feeling that you can't put into words right now even if you tried your hardest to. In fact, all you can do is cry more as you hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt. You practically crumble into his chest, melting in his arms, and Steve understands. That's what made you fall for him in the first place, honestly - he always understands.

So, with no more words spoken, he holds you in the same doorway you walked out of only a couple of weeks ago. He holds you in that doorway until your tears slow and your breathing returns to normal. At some point, his thick fingers begin combing through your hair soothingly, the same way they used to every night at bedtime.

"I don't know what your stance on kids before marriage and after a breakup is, but you should figure it out soon," you mutter into his chest.

His body freezes, and his mind scrambles to catch up with your words. He looks down at your head, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Are you truly saying what he thinks you are? You couldn't be...

"I'm pregnant, Steve."

2K notes · View notes

piastri-lover · 2 years ago

Text

always been you; oscar piastri

summary: in which the entire internet ships oscar and his childhood best friend, and they deny it, until they finally realise it's always been each other

pairing: oscar piastri x childhood best friend!reader

author's note: i love oscar piastri more than life itself like it's not even funny

INSTAGRAM

yourusername 📍silverstone race track

liked by oscarpiastri, pierregasly and 610294 others yourusername p4 for my favourite person ever!! (plus i looked so good in the last photo) view comments

user1 she's so pretty wtf

user2 don't know whether i want to be her or be with her

user3 are her and oscar dating?? im new to f1 -user4 no they've just been friends for years and years

oscarpiastri no photo creds?? -yourusername only when u get on the podium --oscarpiastri bet

oscarpiastri ❤️ -yourusername ❤️❤️ --oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️ ---yourusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user5 oscar's a lucky boy

user6 he needs to wife her up soon or else the rest of us will steal her -user7 they're just friends i dont know what u guys struggle to understand

~~~

oscarpiastri 📍london, england

tagged: yourusername liked by landonorris, yourusername and 2103927 others oscarpiastri london with my girl x view comments

user8 my girl!!!!! -user9 sleeping on the highway tonight

user10 they claim they're not dating but im sorry look at this post

yourusername formula 1 driver and still made me pay for lunch smh -oscarpiastri stfu i offered to pay u INSISTED --yourusername i dont seem to remember that ---oscarpiastri y/n stop it im gonna get cancelled ----yourusername fine i offered to pay dont cancel oscar

user11 theyre so cute

user12 i love how half the photos are london and half are y/n -user13 bros so whipped its unbelievable

user14 im acc convinced theyre dating at this point

user15 y/n is the prettiest ever liked by oscarpiastri -user15 bros not being slick rn

TWITTER

~~~

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri replied to your story:

oscarpiastri cmon u cant post stuff like that on ur story

yourusername why not

oscarpiastri anyone can see something like that i wanna be the only person seeing that

yourusername its nothing oscar besides we're just friends arent we

oscarpiastri i panicked y/n ive always loved u u know that

yourusername i confessed to u oscar i told u how i felt and u said nothing

oscarpiastri obv i love u and ur more than a friend to me u know that

yourusername i know i know i know i guess saying it out loud was diff to always knowing

oscarpiastri i know come to spa please

yourusername ive got school

oscarpiastri i dont care for me??

yourusername ur paying for my flight

oscarpiastri ofc i need to see u i need to tell u how i feel in person

yourusername ill see u belgium love u oscar

oscarpiastri love u y/n

~~~

yourusername 📍spa, belgium

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 293817 others yourusername p2!!! (the race never happened) view comments

user16 no bc shes so pretty -user17 oscar's winning in life

user18 y/n denying the race ever happened -user19 shes so like me fr

oscarpiastri ur my good luck charm -yourusername stop being sappy in my comment section

user20 theyre def dating im sorry -user21 oscar was here in like 20 seconds hes got notifs on fs

user22 shes so leng istg

logansargeant i wonder whos joggers they are huh? -yourusername logan stfu --logansargeant my lips are sealed

~~~

TWITTER

~~~

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 3102947 others yourusername guess who? view comments

user23 oscar right?? -user24 it has to be

oscarpiastri i wonder who?? -yourusername do u have any idea?? --oscarpiastri none at all ---yourusername hmm...

user25 na look at their comments they're def dating

user26 im sorry but they're both so hot -user27 bi panic --user28 mother and father

user29 just waiting for the announcement -user30 any day now

logansargeant i know who -yourusername good for u logan --oscarpiastri can u tell me mate? ---logansargeant just sent u the dm

user31 idc if its oscar i just wanna know who managed to pull the y/n

~~~

oscarpiastri

tagged: yourusername liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 4102958 othersoscarpiastri my everything view comments

user32 i mean we all knew but its cute

yourusername loved u forever -oscarpiastri love u forever --yourusername will love u forever

user33 no theyre so cute

user34 wbk but thanks for the announcement oscar

logansargeant about time -yourusername focus on getting urself a gf logan --logansargeant ouch

user35 how aussie racer boy pulled HER i will never know

yourusername ur fans love me lol -oscarpiastri dont know why --yourusername oy ---oscarpiastri sorry love

user36 I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

user37 banter in the comment section is my love language

1K notes · View notes

tanobatcher · 2 months ago

Text

first kiss

wolffe x jedi fem reader

summary: a night out with your friend reveals a curiosity you want to explore outside of your jedi commitments.

warnings: nonchalant final boss wolffe and suggestive content

a/n: in my head, this is a continuation of moonlight with some time skip obv ~~ but i'm not listing them together since they are completely separate scenarios without any reference to the other. it's kinda fun thinking about this one shot with that background context tho idk but i'm saying this from a writer's perspective since i love a good buildup in general. also i'm mourning my first kiss fr i wish it was him :(

another note...i think i have a problem with cliffhangers but ig that's my style atp

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

79's is loud, dark, and busy. It's exactly like the kind of place you were advised to stay away from as a youngling growing up in the Temple. There are all sorts of enticing opportunities that might tip anyone's self-control over the edge, opening doors your duties keep locked out of reach. It's not a rulebook you follow, though. It's a code. One that cautions against addiction—whether the item of interest is alcohol, money, or something less tangible like the ecstasy of interpersonal connections.

Sex. In other words.

"Is it always like this?" You mutter, unsure where to rest your eyes without staring at the entangled bodies scattered around the bar. But the intimate proximity between every pair doesn't unsettle you as much as the fact that they're all attached to each other by the mouth in addition to all the other places where they're shamelessly grabbing each other. Their movements are lazy and drunken. Unsurprisingly, this is the most popular commodity found at 79's. The pretty women, all exotic and eager, always turn heads and stimulate competition among the men simply trying to ease their nights during this difficult war. You understand their innate desires, even if you're forbidden to feel them yourself.

"I didn't think you'd approve," comes a response. It's quiet, but you hear the "I told you so" in it.

Tearing your gaze away from a particular couple directly in your line of vision, you glance up at your remaining company—the only person who didn't split off from your group in search of something else. His eyes are sharp as they meet yours, but he looks tired. You know this because his posture is relaxed for once, not at its usual state of stiff attention. It's obvious he's also bored, which is ironic. This is the only place where someone like him can do whatever he wants. Or so you believe.

"Why not?" You reply, not stopping a defensive edge from seeping into your question.

The answer is clear to both of you despite being left unspoken. You're a Jedi. Just a couple of hours ago, you had to clarify the rumored myth circling across the Grand Army of the Republic that "Jedi can't have sex." They can, you said. We can. They just can't form attachments. They can't fall in love. They can't feel anything more than what they choose to do, which never fully made sense to you as a youngling. It still doesn't. And still, you abstain from anything that jeopardizes your honor and denies your code. Wolffe might not follow the same way of life as you, but he knows what it means to walk that fine line. It's only natural someone as committed as him does, really.

"It doesn't feel like you approve either," you continue when he seems to ignore you.

"I don't not approve."

You roll your eyes at this clear avoidance of your statement. "Well, believe it or not, you don't exactly appear as if you're having a good time."

"Yeah?" He exhales a little roughly and leans back against the wall with an expression even more bored than before, "What does that look like?"

While his figure seems to take up more space as this conversation progresses, yours shrinks and attempts to hide from his judgmental demeanor. Still, you point out, "You're completely sober."

"So are you," he says, eyeing you warily.

"I told you not to hold back on my accord."

Irritation flashes across his gaze, but it's so brief that the moment nearly slips from your fingers. You're more focused on him than you think, though, because you suddenly feel something warm and angry radiating from his spirit. But why? Which one of his nerves did you strike this time? That always seems to be the case with him, which also begs the question of why he's even here. With you.

"I don't want this," you vaguely gesture a hand between the two of you, "To be a thing. You can have fun tonight, you know. I heard that we won't be on Coruscant for very long."

He only seems to hear the first part of what you just said since he merely repeats, "A thing." The two words put together on his tongue sound a lot more menacing than you give him credit for. Cringing at yourself as subtly as possible, you try not to reveal that you're secretly questioning your ability to hold a proper conversation with him outside of your battles and briefings. Embarrassing yourself is the last thing you want to do, but maybe he's banking on it.

"I'm saying you don't need to babysit me. I'm fine," you brush off, feeling your face grow hot as your eyes dart around the room instead of looking at him.

He hasn't moved an inch—not even his gaze—as he replies, "This isn't babysitting."

In any other circumstance, his short and vague reciprocation wouldn't frustrate you like it is now. But you’re dizzy from the noise and flashing lights, while a tight knot burns an ache in your lower stomach. It's humiliating to think that such an unfamiliar yet normal environment is causing your body and mind so much discomfort. It's even more humiliating to admit this aloud, especially to someone as unbothered as your commander.

"So, what is it?" You unintentionally snap, "Because I don't know why either of us is just standing here while everyone else..."

Wolffe raises his eyebrows at you. "Then we'll leave."

Your head turns toward him with incredulity. "No, that's not what I meant. You can stay, if anything."

"So, you're leaving."

Sighing, you fold your arms over your chest and cast another glance around the room. "Is that what you want?"

You sense his surprise, which can't even be confirmed by the look on his face—only your intuition. You're forced to expose more of your own truths when he asks, "Does it matter?" instead of revealing whatever he's feeling for once in response to your questions.

"A little," you hear yourself telling him unabashedly, "I wouldn't want you to feel like you can't...do anything when I'm around."

He scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at this, not even bothering to respond with anything else. You don't miss the slight curve of his lips that indicates his amusement, which can only be intended toward how out of place you feel at the moment. Funny to him, maybe. You can barely hear yourself over the blaring music as you shake your head and mumble, “Never mind. I’m being childish.”

“I’m sure things are different at the Temple.”

“Depends. Some Jedi know their way around.”

The breath he releases almost sounds like a chuckle, deep and close to your ear. “Guess you missed out on that.”

A joke, you think to yourself as you turn your body fully toward him. He’s already facing you, shadowed and distant beneath this lighting. Still, you see him clearly. Everyone else in the room is hardly recognizable, passing through your peripheral in blurry figures and faces while he remains still and centered before you. The music suddenly feels quieter, and the conversations seem to die down. You can hear yourself better when you tell him, “I’m trying not to…anymore. Miss out, I mean.”

Waiting for his reaction, you sink your teeth into your tongue just to feel that momentary sting without drawing blood. It’s a silly confession, but it’s the honest reason why you’re here tonight. You want to know what it’s like to feel that high everyone whispers about. Even if you forget all about it by the time the sun rises. Even if just for a second that sensation enters your bones and spills into your blood. Even if you regret it, too. The way you see it now, you would rather live with that than not know at all.

Wolffe looks displeased when he replies, “This is the worst possible place you could have chosen if you wanted to fuck someone tonight.”

Embarrassed again, you frown and say, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You couldn’t have meant it any other way.”

“There’s more than just sex. Don’t you know that?”

He startles you when he crosses his arms over his chest and leans closer just enough to make your heart race for reasons you’re afraid to unpack.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he murmurs.

The softness of his tone sends a chill down your spine, contrasting the furious warmth in your face. It doesn’t take much to understand the implications of his words. But you’re not sure why they leave a bad taste in your mouth. It almost feels strange to imagine him in any of the situations occurring around the bar—hookups, flirtatious conversations, and much more when someone offers to go to the back or even leave this place. And just like that, when it’s all over, it’s never to be spoken about ever again. The art of detachment, which is somehow very aligned with the Jedi way.

“So, you do know how to have a good time,” you lean forward as well, “I thought you might have been just as lost as me.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s not a disappointment. I’m also not surprised.”

He pauses with a guarded expression before carefully responding, “No?”

You shake your head. “No. You’re attractive. They’re attractive. It makes sense.”

He flicks his gaze to your outstretched hand as you vaguely gesture to some of the available women circling the bar before looking back at you. It doesn’t seem to bother him that you just made an extremely unprofessional statement just now, but you feel a tighter pull between the energy that flows from his spirit to yours. The reaction is there—he simply does a good job of hiding it. Unable to ignore this, you take a step closer to him and smile.

“I wouldn’t kiss and tell either,” you lightly touch his arm with a few fingertips, “We don’t have to make it a big deal.”

That flare of anger from before returns as he grabs your wrist and pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you disagree, “And I’d feel safer if it was you. We’re friends.”

He makes a face that almost has you believing he’s in pain for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure before you can ask.

“If you’re scared, then you shouldn’t be considering something like this at all,” he says coldly.

“I’m not scared. I trust you.”

He stares at you in disbelief and squeezes his fingers as if he’s trying to convince himself to let go. Before he can follow through, though, you step between his legs and clutch him by the forearms. This sudden movement brings your faces much closer together, and you can hear the ragged breath he takes once he realizes you have him cornered.

“Don’t do this.”

“You can say no.”

His eyes narrow as his jaw clenches. “Just for you to find someone else.”

You pause upon hearing the venom in his tone. “Does it matter?”

He holds your gaze, knowing you’ve taken his words from before. It’s another chance for him to admit anything he’s hiding, whether from you or even himself.

“It does,” he bites out, “If you’re going to be an idiot and not think this through.”

“I have thought it through. It doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“So, you jump in some bastard’s bed tonight, and the whole Republic finds out about it. What then?”

You wrinkle your nose at this hypothetical, which feels exaggerated and unnecessary to consider. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” he glares at you, “But I’m also not offering that chance.”

“Because you don’t want…”

You don’t finish your sentence, realizing you sound more desperate as this conversation progresses. Snapping your mouth shut to process the rejection sinking in your stomach, you nod and begin to pull away from him. But he doesn’t let you. Studying his face with curiosity, it’s clear that he’s much angrier than before. The burning, hot irritation is simply climbing higher and higher the longer you stay near him like this. So vulnerable as if you’ve given yourself up to him. He’s not holding you by the wrist anymore but by the hips with both hands now, shifting your body closer and greedier.

“Let go, Wolffe.”

“You’re being naive.”

Averting your eyes from his, you look down where your frontside is nearly flush against his. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“What you don’t need is to sleep with someone just to feel better about yourself.”

“Isn’t that what everyone does?” You hesitate before pushing at his chest a bit, “What you do?”

When he doesn’t answer your question, you’re certain there’s no point in staying here any longer. You turn your head a bit to look around, but he seems to mistake this as an indication of your next destination—someone else. It’s unclear why he even cares, especially if he’s turning you down like this. That is, until you feel his hands travel across your upper body. His touch isn’t heavy at all, hardly burning holes through your clothes, which tells you he’s still trying to be careful. But the weight of this action is a lot more difficult to bear than the actual experience itself. He settles his palms across your waist, spreading his fingers out as if to cover as much surface as possible. It’s almost too gentle for someone like him.

Turning back to him, you nearly lose the breath you were just about to exhale. It gets stuck in your throat, constricting your insides into a whirlwind of squeezing nerves. This is the same Wolffe you’ve known for a couple of years now. The same Wolffe who’s never made any move to touch you if he doesn’t need to. The current look in his eyes is wildly different, though. It’s the reason for your pause as you try to recognize the hungry darkness threatening to swallow you whole. And maybe, if you push a little harder, it just might.

“You want me,” you whisper, “I can feel it.”

He closes his eyes. Opens them slowly. “Careful.”

But you’re already treading dangerously. Inhaling a deep breath, you let your body lean into his touch a little more. Closer. Even closer when he applies some pressure to his hands. He’s looking at your lips in anticipation of a kiss, which is becoming imminently unavoidable with the little distance that remains between your stolen breaths. Nervous, you steady yourself by bracing your hands against the solid plane of his chest and feel some vibrations when he finally speaks.

“I’m not kissing you just so you can prove your point.”

Your lips part as your breath hitches upon hearing how hoarse and desperate he sounds despite the indifference in his words. You almost have him where you want him. Time seems to slow as the room empties, but only in your imagination. All that occupies your consciousness is you and him in each other’s arms.

“Then kiss me because you want to.”

You hear a soft curse sound from his lips, and it’s almost sweet. It’s not rough and mean like the version of him you’re used to. The version of him you suspect you’ll still like, even after this whole situation becomes a forgotten memory. Maybe it won’t even make it to that point, because he still hasn’t kissed you. You pull your head back just a bit with the intention of saying something, but that only worsens his irritation. It also provokes the reaction you’ve been waiting for. There’s something impatient about the way his mouth claims yours, even though he’s the one who wasted all this time in the first place. Both of you are wondering the same thing, though. What took so long?

Your eyes flutter shut as he slows the kiss, letting it linger before pulling away. Still holding you close, he rests his forehead against yours while catching his breath in a few short exhales. You can see his heavy-lidded stare through your lashes when you open your eyes, also breathing deeply to savor the last of what’s already gone. But just as you accept this is over, he cups the back of your neck and leans in for more. And when he kisses you again, you know this time is the real him—the one that isn’t holding back anymore.

You gasp against his mouth when he pivots your bodies and pushes you into the wall that was just behind him. While you’re too far gone in his embrace to care if anyone sees you like this, he seems to remember your status outside of these walls. Covering your figure with his, he takes your surprise as an opportunity to kiss you deeper. His lips part yours wider with a low groan that wracks a shiver through your shoulders. He feels you tremble against him in that moment, caressing your jaw with the hand cupping your neck. His other arm holds you steady, gentle unlike the way he’s kissing you now.

It’s almost hard to keep up as everything intensifies. He’s still kissing you slowly, but it’s not lazy like the speed might suggest. Everything about the way his lips open and close over yours, sucking roughly when you sigh, speaks to his calculating nature. You wind your arms around his neck and drop your face to his chest when he nudges his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to stimulate yet another foreign feeling you want more of.

“That feels…” you gasp softly as he slides his thigh deeper between your legs and kisses your neck, “…Good.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groans into your skin.

You shake your head and tighten your arms around him, afraid he’ll walk away now when you finally have what you want. “I don’t care. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“To you.”

The response sounds bitter as it gets lost in another kiss you’re not sure who initiates. All you can feel is his mouth slipping over yours with barely any air to breathe between your kisses. He pulls back just to kiss you again—harder, angrier, and rougher as if to tell you something he can’t admit aloud. His hands are now clutching at your clothes, dragging slightly before pausing like a reminder of not to get carried away. You feel the feverish desperation beneath the fabric, though. You want to feel it even closer if it means feeling him closer.

“Wolffe,” you manage through another kiss.

“Mhm?”

“We can leave. Go somewhere else.”

He seems to consider it as he sucks on your neck just above your collarbone, but it isn’t until he pulls back and sees your face that reality sinks in. Your stomach drops when his expression blanches, growing cold and distant once again. The regret is clear as it writes itself all over his hard stare, one that you never expected to be so disappointed to see. Maybe if you hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have ruined a moment that never belonged to you in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, even though you know the exact answer.

You. It’s you.

“This…was wrong,” he lets go of you completely and steps back, closer to the crowd that’s about to engulf him into disappearance, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You try to reach for him, but he’s already so far. “Wolffe, it doesn’t—“

“Stop,” he avoids your touch, “I can’t.”

Some wounds sting at his words, but they bleed when he leaves without sparing you another glance. It’s suddenly so noisy once again, suffocating you with shitty music and boring conversations you don’t want to overhear any longer. The air has grown stale, but you still taste him on your tongue as his figure joins the blur of everyone else in this loud, dark, and busy bar.

#star wars #the clone wars #clone x reader #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #tcw commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #tcw #clone wars #star wars clones #clone troopers #sw tcw #star wars tcw #star wars the clone wars #104th battalion

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eternal-love · 4 months ago

Text

LACY

Pairing: Courtier!Austin x Queen!reader

Summary: Everyone knew about your husband’s exotic interests, specially after the son of some lord arrived at court. A boy that threatened your position.

Warning: Takes place in medieval times, power imbalance, Austin is younger than the reader, royals?, reader is an asshole to Austin, slight smut (oral fem receiving, face riding)

Note: inspired of course by Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo. This is kinda different. I hope you guys like it. Reader is obvs very inspired by Cersei Lannister, that DIVA💜

Before you became queen by marriage, your house had been the most powerful in the kingdom. Your family had ruled for centuries. Until your house was challenged at war for the throne, another house rebelled against the order of things, and unfortunately they won.

You went from being next in line to the throne, to having to marry the man that usurped it from you. You put up with it for your family. Because you wanted to keep them alive.

Years went by and you were a proper queen, one coronated as the ‘Queen of beauty and love’, you were beloved by the commoners, your husband, King Richard, not so much. He was know for being a fool, a crazy and lustful fool. You knew very well that he spent most of his time in brothels

But you got on with it, it’s not like you had much of choice. Plus, the more time you spent far away from that fool, the more time you had to educate yourself. But in the end, you were the Queen and you had to keep appearances. So that’s why you agreed to any celebrations he decided to throw on the hall.

Dressed in the best silks and jewels from the kingdom, you sat besides your King and husband. Drinking wine from a goblet as you watched your courtiers dance around. You noticed how your husband stared at a new courtier you had not seen before. It wasn’t uncommon that new high-born people came to live in the castle and you never noticed.

Your husband stared too much at the boy, your eye couldn’t help but twitch. Everyone knew about the King’s exotic interests. He liked young maidens and young boys.

He wasn’t dumb though, he knew to only fuck them in brothers. Never high-borns but this boy, he was breathtaking. That wasn’t something you could deny. You made sure your handmaidens brought him to you.

“My King, my Queen.” The young boy curtsied in front of the high table.

“Hello, summer child.” You forced out a smile, the boy was gorgeous. “My, you are a beauty What is your name.”

“Thank you, your grace.” The boy smiled at both of you. “And my name is Austin, your Grace.”

Golden hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, those pointy ears. You could recognize those traits from miles away. The son of Lord Soltheris, from, fittingly, House Soltheris from the Vale. Gorgeous high-bornes came out that house.

“I must keep you close. It fits a queen to be surrounded by such beauties.” You said, when in reality, you already wanted to send him away. You saw the way your husband eyed the boy, it wouldn’t surprise you if you found out later on that your husband had tasted the boy.

You tried to not think much of it, maybe this time around the King would use his brain and know that it wasn’t ideal for him to fuck a young high-born.

But as days went by, you noticed that your husband seemed rather pleased to have him as new courtier, you always saw them together. It wasn’t hard to see that your husband was infatuated.

The boy spent, countless hours in your husband’s chambers. By his side during supper, on his walks by the garden. You started to get paranoid, very. It didn’t befit a Queen to be paranoid over such— boy. But he was beautiful. More beautiful than you believed yourself to be.

As you observed from afar, how the boy walked besides Richard, how he moved, how he laughed, how he dressed. In fine fabrics, you noticed a pattern in the colors he wore and you hated it. Because he used the same colors as you, as well as his clothes were often decorated with golden thread and pearls.

He was a better version of yourself, younger, fitter, even more beautiful. You remembered the words a witch once told you. You had tried to forget them, mayhaps the witch had just want to scare you. But now, the prophecy seemed to be fulfilling itself.

“You will be Queen, for a time. Then there will be another sight for sore eyes. Younger. More beautiful. One that will cast you aside and take everything and everyone you hold dear.”

Austin knew very well that you knew what he was doing with the king, it was one of the reasons why he avoided you at all cost. But there were times where he walked by your bedchamber. Specially in very inconvenient moments. You were arguing with your husband. After all, you still had more right to the throne than he did.

“Do you believe me as the true Queen and ruler?” You stood in front of him, tears pricking at your eyes. After years, you still resented the fact that a man stole your birthright.

“Why must I need jesters when I have you, my dear?” Richard laughed, shaking his head. “The throne is not something you deserve. It’s something you take.”

“How dare you.” You paced around the bedchamber, your hands toying with the fabric of your gown.

“Do you think your father named you heir because he thought you’d be fit to rule? He chose you because he was afraid of me, my family, my house. Because he knew that our legacy, unlike his own, would never be outshined. And because he knew that as long as you were heir, peace would exists and he would keep us under his thumb. He thought of you weak enough to never be able to lead a war. Because you were born a woman.”

You stared at the man. Woman. Why was that an insult? Why? You had more royal blood in your pinky finger than him in his whole body. You were pure blood and he was a bastard. Yet the only important thing was that he had a cock and you did not?

“You’re pathetic.” You muttered as you got closer to him. The King did not like to get insulted, let alone by you.

“You do know, that insulting and challenging me won’t make you grow a cock if you don’t already posses one? And perhaps if you had one, you’d be more pleasant to be around.”

You scoffed, a part of you felt hurt, but you took it in, tried to not let it get to you in front of him. But as you turned to look at the door, it was slightly open, and there you saw him. Austin.

After the argument, you made sure to make your way towards Austin’s bedchamber. You knocked on the large wooden door, to which his voice rang through.

“Yes?” He spoke, his voice sounded a bit nervous.

“Will you let me in?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“I don’t think so, your Grace.” Austin stuttered, oh, he was scared. He already knew you hated him, what stopped you from wanting to kill him?

“Do you think if I wanted you dead I would let a wooden door in my own castle, filled with my own guards, stop me?” Was this kid dumb? Dumber than you, at least he wasn’t that pleasantly blessed.

“No, your Grace.” He spoke before opening the door slowly. You made your way inside. His bedchamber although smaller than yours, was pleasantly warm.

“You must have overheard the conversation between the King and I.” You said, your eyes scanning Austin.

You hated his skin that looked like uncooked puff pastry, his wide blue eyes that looked like daisies on the spring. He looked like an angel brought back to life. You didn’t know if you wanted to have him hanged or if you wished to have him under your skirts. French kissing your cunt until you came all over his dumb and pretty face.

“It wasn’t my intention, your Grace. I swear it to you.” Austin stuttered. “I was passing by and could not help but overhear it. But I could not help but offer you my sorrows. It must be hard dealing with his Grace.”

“Really? How tolerant of you.” You said, smirking. “Dear God, you’re perfect, aren’t you? You— fuck my husband then come here and offer your condolences after he mistreats me once more.”

The color from his face disappeared as soon as you said that. It’s not like he had any saying, what the king said, went.

“It is not my saying. Believe. I cannot deny what the King says, good sister. You must know that. I did not expect that to become my role when I came here to court.” Austin was quick to come up with excuses. “You know, good sister, my mother once told me that men—“

You interrupted him harshly. “Nobody cares what your dear mother told you.”

His face fell, you only smirked even more. You looked around his chamber once more.

“Wine. You have wine?”

“It’s a bit early in the day for me to drink wine, your Grace.” Austin said, innocence in his tone. He never drank, not until supper. And even then, he drank very little.

“You annoy me. Every breath you take even in the same perimeter as me annoys me. So here’s what we will do. I want you to not even think of looking at me. And if you ever call me good sister again,” You spoke harshly, talking closer to him. “I’ll have my men rip out your tongue with their hands.”

You saw his face contort in horror. Who wouldn’t fear you? After all you were the second most powerful person in the kingdom.

Months went by and to Austin, your relationship with him was confusing. He didn’t quite understand it. He admired you, he truly did. But he found it very hard to understand if you liked him or loathed him. Sometimes he himself though he loathed your sole existence as Queen consort.

You weren’t nice to him, at least that’s not how he saw it. Your comments always masked with a silk of kindness to try and hide the venom. You were a viper dressed in fine clothing. Everyone at court was a viper.

But you could walk amongst them and not get attacked. Thats what made you even more cunning, knowing how much power you held.

But it never fulfilled you, not matter how many people were scared of you, how many power you held over a council, because all you wanted was to be respected, not feared. But being a woman, it was the only way of keeping yourself safe. Being feared.

If only you had been born a man, perhaps a civil war wouldn’t have occurred in the first place. Perhaps you would had grown to sit on the throne, wear your father’s crown in your head, rule over all kingdoms. But it would never happen. You were only left with the fear, the fear of being replaced, killed, set aside.

In the comfort of your bedchamber, you would cry while drinking wine, sometimes you would just drink wine. Stare out the high window.

One night, you drank wine in your bedchamber, your handmaidens embroidering on the floor. When the door of your bedchamber opened, your sworn guard entered, announcing a guest.

“The Lord Austin Soltheris, your Grace.” Your guard moved and there came in the blond boy. A part of you scoffed, but then, after taking another tip of wine, you spoke.

“Clear the room.” You said, your handmaidens and sworn guards left immediately, closing the door behind you. You leaned back on the chair, staring at Austin.

“Your Grace.” He bowed immediately. You chuckled softly, you weren’t tipsy, you had grown very fond of wine. It didn’t affect you as much as before.

“Sit.” You commanded him, to which he listened. God, you could stare into those blue eyes for hours.

“I thought I’d come in and look in on you, your Grace. You have not been attending supper at the great hall.”

“How— sweet of you. You’re perfect.” You mocked him. “Worrying for your queen. I must admit that not even my husband worries for my absence. Mayhaps I should tell my husband that his favorite delight has been trying to get rather close to me.”

Austin immediately shook his head. “Your grace, please. I am only trying to do what’s best for my house. I have no ill intentions nor am I trying to use the impetuousness of my youth. You must believe me.”

Oh, you stared at him horrified. You had said those exact same words once when you were forced to wed Richard. How you plead for him to see the good side of you, to know that you weren’t a threat to him.

“Let me give you an advice, summer child.” You took another sip from your goblet. “Don’t ever do that again. As now I know how desperate you are for protection. You are at my mercy, it must be difficult to keep it inside but the more people that know you’re afraid, the weaker you get. Because they know how to take advantage of you.”

You said, swirling your goblet, the wine seemed to be the less of your interests now.

“I love his grace.” He said, gulping. But it was too late to try and pretend to know what he was doing.

“You don’t fool anyone, Austin. You’re as naive as they come. I see why my husband likes you.” You said, raising your eyebrow. “You’re just like me. A pretender.”

“I don’t understand, your Grace.” Austin looked at you in concussion. Yes, he was lying about loving the King, he just wanted protection, it didn’t matter how he had to gain it. But there hadn’t been much going around with the king, the king was always too drunk anyways.

“A pretty face isn’t your only weapon, the best one is between your legs. Be proud of how you decide to use it. Drink.” You gave him your goblet. To which he took a small sip. “Not like that. Drink.”

He drank, but his eyes stayed on. Oh, how sweetly the fox moved when it’s surrounded by the hound.

The boy stared at you with such intensity, you could tell he wanted you. Which men in the kingdom did not desire to eat you like a piece of cake anyways? You understood. You were beautiful. The most beautiful woman.

A few cups of wine between you two, and a few stolen kisses, ended with Austin’s face between your legs. His tongue attacking your cunt. He had undressed you, you were completely exposed to him.

You tugged at his hair, even if that was extremely satisfying, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough for you. You grinded your hips a little, your left hand gripped the armrest of the chair.

“What a good boy I have.” You moaned, your voice obviously tightened. “Aren’t you a good boy?”

He hummed, his blue eyes staring up at your face. He looked pathetic, eating you out like a starved man. Like a fucking commoner or a harlot from a brothel.

You you tugged his hair and pulled him apart from your cunt, his lips plump and swollen already, his big blue eyes staring up at you.

“You’ll listen to what I say.” You said firmly.

“Yes, your Grace.” Austin nodded, his eyes made you want to fuck him. You felt as powerful as a man could feel before fucking a young maiden.

He was your young and beautiful maiden. Just for you to ruin.

You made him lay in his back on the bed, you were going to ride his face like a man rode a stallion. You positioned yourself, his nose and mouth inches away from your exposed fold, once he started tongue fucking your first, you were a different woman, you were moaning out all sorts of things. You sounded like a bitch in heat. But as you rode his face, as he grunted and grabbed your thighs, you were in complete ecstasy and you knew that God would punish you.

You were committing adultery, you were getting your lust get in your way. But right now you didn’t care, not when this felt so good.

You were reaching your peak, you had never felt this kind of pleasure.

“Just like that!” You were able to scream loudly, as you finished over his face, you were riding out your orgasm. You laid back on your bed, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Feeling guilty, he stood up immediately, pacing around.

“What have I done? I have defiled my house, my honor, my body.” He paced around, guilt ever-consuming. This was treason. “Must I confess this? Should I?”

“You won’t confess anything. You are not the first one, boy. One of the King’s squires, Sir Lance Marshall, fucked me relentlessly every night whenever I asked him to. After many nights he could not handle the guilt and confessed it to my husband. Do you know where Sir Lance Marshall is now?”

Austin gulped. How many times had he not heard about the death of one of the King’s squires. “Gone.”

“What a gentle word. I would use— slaughtered. Do you must believe that the King doesn’t like snitches.” You told him. To which he immediately froze. He did not want to be slaughtered. Not at all.

“But, my Queen. I must— I will go to hell.”

“And I will burn by your side.” You stood up and walked towards him, your hand touching his soft cheek.

“But my house. I should have not defiled my honor. I have tainted my house’s name. I am not even married. I should repent in Church and then go back—” he spoke like a terrified child, it made you laugh. But you had seen how eager he had been to please you. And you wouldn’t minds keeping him around as your delight.

“You will not do such thing. As your Queen, you are commanded to remain in court and by my side.” Your touch became much rougher, it made him whimper.

“Understood, your Grace. I promise I’ll do my best to keep you pleased.” He said softly, he sounded like a wounded puppy.

You had him at your mercy, how fun is that?

You were all smiles while you were breaking your fast with your husband, you spent night after night by the company of that stupid boy.

If you couldn’t be him, why not fuck him? It made sense in your mind. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

“Why are you smiling?” The King asked you as he stopped eating, he raised his eyebrow.

“Because I am happy.” You smiled as you lifted your goblet.

“Why are you happy?” This was the happiest your husband had ever seen you in a decade.

Your smile was genuine, which was suspiciously concerning. At least to him. You rarely smiled like this anymore. Only when there was any kind of interaction you despised or when you got compliments.

You smiled even wider as he asked you that. You stood up and walked to the head of the table, where he sat, you placed your goblet down, you leaned in.

“Because I have your little whore.”

The King’s face fell, there was no way you two were fucking the same exact boy. To which, you weren’t, Austin only fucked you. The King was always to drunk to remember that the boy never even touched him.

“And do remember, my King…” you took another sip of your wine. “It is only considered treason if he finishes inside.”

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler is so hot

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stayteezdreams · 1 year ago

Text

Mistletoe Mischief

Plot: Yunho takes every opportunity he can to kiss you under the mistletoe, even if that means him following you around with it.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Kissing (obvs). Mention of wrists being held down (in playful and romantic way)

Words: 1.4k

As you stared into the cupboard, deciding what you wanted to eat, you failed to hear the soft footsteps creeping up behind you. Grabbing a small bag of your favorite chips, you closed the cupboard and turned around, jumping in surprise.

Yunho stood directly behind you, amused grin on his face and hands behind his back. You let out a sigh of annoyance as you placed your and on your chest.

"What are you sneaking up on me for?"

You rose your brow as he continued to smile at you in silence, mischief in his gaze.

Slowly, he brought his hand out from behind his back as he stepped forward to corner you against the counter. Seeing the mistletoe in his hand, you almost rolled your eyes as you barely refrained from chuckling.

"Yunh-"

Before you could get anything else out, he suddenly swooped down and kissed you. You grunted in surprise as you pushed him away, letting out a bewildered chuckle.

"Yunho, stop!" You failed to sound serious as you giggled at his actions.

Yunho chuckled as well as he tried to kiss you again. Successfully dodging his attacks you dipped underneath his arm and ran out of the kitchen with a laugh, Yunho grinned to himself as he watched you flee.

You shook your head in amused annoyance at Yunho's actions. That had been the fourth time he kissed you under the mistletoe. Apparently the first time after you hung it in the doorway was not enough for him. As he decided to instead, carry it around with him and kiss you whenever he wanted, often catching you by surprise.

The second time had been when you were reading something on your phone. You felt him tap your shoulder and when you looked up, he kissed you, mistletoe in hand and grin on his face.

The third time was about half an hour ago, when you had exited the shower, only to be suddenly scooped into his arms and kissed again.

His actions were undoubtedly cute, and quite romantic, but you knew he had no intention of stopping, which meant it would become more of a nuisance the longer it went on.

Not long later, you encountered him again. As you headed down the hall, Yunho stepped out from his office and blocked your path.

You locked eyes for a moment before you quirked your brow, "What?"

"What?" He repeated, innocence in his tone you knew you couldn't trust.

You squinted suspiciously at him before you tried to walk past, only for him to step in front of you. Stepping to the other side, he only followed suit. After this repeated two more times you huffed.

"What are you doing?"

He grinned happily, "You have to pay the tax."

"Tax?"

He nodded, as he pulled out the mistletoe. You bit you lip to repress the smile that threatened to form.

"Yunho." You kept your tone level, serious.

"Y/n." He repeated in the same tone.

You closed your eyes as you let out a soft breath, "You're ridiculous."

He grinned as he tilted his head sideways, "I know but you love me."

You shook your head as your smile broke out. "Fine."

After quickly leaning up to kiss him, you made your way past him before he could stop you again. You could hear his soft chuckle as you disappeared down the hall.

His attacks continued for the next couple of hours as he surprised you with the mistletoe at any opportunity he could. When you were reading, eating, when you were on the phone, any time you walked into the room he was waiting around the corner.

Finally, when he had his own phone call to take, you spotted the mistletoe on the table and quickly grabbed it. Hiding it in the washing machine, you figured he wouldn't find it. You smiled to yourself as you sat down on the couch and began scrolling on your phone.

It wasn't long before you spotted Yunho entering the room, confused look on his face as he obviously scanned the living room for the mistletoe.

He checked the table, then the couch, then the kitchen before he walked past again, patting his pockets.

"Lose something?" You asked as casually as you could as you watched him searching.

He met your eye, and obviously did not suspect you as you appeared genuinely curious.

He shook his head, "Nope."

You rose your brow, "Okay."

His lack of suspicion did not last as he appeared a few minutes later. "Did you hang the mistletoe up somewhere?"

You met his eyes and shook your head, "No, you're the one whose been carrying it around with you all day."

He hummed under his breath as he casually walked over to you on the couch.

He eyed you closely and you stared at him, "What?"

Reaching over to you, he started feeling your pockets and reaching into your sweater sleeves.

"Yunho!" You said with a laugh while attempting to swat him away.

Finally, he moved to check in between the couch cushions and under the pillows.

He let out a sigh before he placed his hands on your shoulders. "Where is it?"

You shook your head innocently, "I don't know."

He glared half-heartedly as he brought his hands to your sides, "I'll give you to the count of three."

"I don't have it Yunho."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three!"

As he reached three he began squeezing and tickling your sides, causing you to drop your phone and desperately try to protect yourself. As you laughed and yelled out in alarm, Yunho continued his attack before you finally yelled out.

"Fine! Fine! I hid it, but I'm not telling you where it is!"

Yunho laughed as he stopped tickling you, instead pressing his forehead against yours.

"Is that so?"

You nodded your head, and he only grinned wider. Adjusting himself so he was sitting on top of you, caging you against the couch, you saw a familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He leaned forward, bringing his mouth next to your ear. "I don't need mistletoe to kiss you."

Suddenly he began kissing you everywhere. Neck, cheek, nose, forehead, and lips.

You failed to hold back your giggles from the onslaught of kisses, failing to push him away as he grabbed and held your wrists.

"Yunho!" You yelled out in a fit of giggles, causing him to finally stop after placing one last kiss to your lips.

You leaned forward, pushing your face into his chest in case he started again. He laughed as he held you against him instead, placing one last kiss on the top of your head.

After a moment of silence he spoke again, "Did it really bother you that much? The mistletoe?"

Pulling away from him and leaning your head back back on the couch you smiled up at him and shook your head. "No, you've just been bombarding me with it so much I thought I'd get back at you a bit."

He pouted dramatically as he gently held your hands. You laughed and shook your head.

"You can't have it back until tomorrow. And I'm limiting the kisses to ten!"

He leaned back as he sighed dramatically making you giggle.

"Only ten?" He asked softly with a pout as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours again.

His puppy dog eyes shined brightly as you rolled your eyes, but gave in. "Okay, fifteen."

"Hmmm, how about fifty?"

"Fifty!?" You laughed.

"What?! Don't I normally kiss you a lot more than fifty times a day?"

You shook your head and he frowned. "Really? I gotta up my boyfriend game then."

You laughed as you gently smacked his shoulders. "You do, but not with the mistletoe."

He grinned as he placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Okay. So... fifteen kisses with the mistletoe, and unlimited without?"

You laughed before groaning, "You're impossible."

He chuckled as he settled on the couch beside you, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his face into your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you held him close.

"Guess what?" He mumbled a moment later.

"What?"

As he shuffled around a bit, you watched as he suddenly held something up.

"Wha-"

He chuckled into your neck as he dangled the mistletoe playfully, "I found it a long time ago."

You groaned as you lied your head back on the couch, only for him to reach his hand around the back of your neck and make you look at him. He held the mistletoe above your head as he grinned mischievously.

"The fifteen limit doesn't start until tomorrow right?"

xx End xx

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#yunho x reader #yunho/reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho/reader #ateez x reader #ateez/reader #yunho fic #yunho fluff #12 Days of Christmas #jeong yunho fic #yunho imagine #jeong yunho imagine #ateez imagine #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez one shot #yunho oneshot

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softestqueeen · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I was reading through 500 celebration prompts, first of all: congratulations 🥳🎊🎉you deserve it ! I dont know how comfortable you are with writing post prision spencer, but he is the only one I can think of when I read prompts 2 "It won't be easy you know... trying to love me." and 6 "I- I don't know who I am anymore. I'm scared." . Maybe like before he got arrested they were starting something and he feels that reader is going to give up on him bc of what he did on the inside, and it’s hurt/comfort, you could totally come up with something better. Feel free to ignore 🤍✨

a/n: thank you sm for your request! so, fun fact i stopped watching cm after hotch left (s12) because 1) obv hotch left and 2) i knew my bbg was going to go through it with his mom and prison and stuff and if i don't see it, it doesnt happen. periodt. but, i'm still a sucker for hurt/comfort, so here you go, enjoy <3 warnings: very incorrect mention of events during the prison arc (your girl has no idea), hurt/comfort, mention of prison, mention of murder pairing: post prison!spencer reid x gn!reader I 1175 words special prompts I special masterlist

You and Spencer had only moved in together a few weeks before everything went downhill. Seeing your boyfriend in court, seeing the tears in his eyes once it was clear he had to go to jail almost broke you. Without the suppoert of the team - who suppoerted you when Spencer couldn't and were always there for you - you don't think you would have been able to make it.

But, finally, the BAU found a way to prove his innocence and got him out of that shithole. You were aching to see him, especially because he didn't put you on the visitors list. When you first heard that, you couldn't belive it. Why didn't he wanna see you? But after Garcia visited him and came back with a letter for you from Spencer, where he explained how he didn't want you to see him like this, you somewhat understood him.

It still hurt, but of course you respected his desicion.

So, when he came out about a week ago, you were overjoyed. You almost couldn't believe that you'd get to hold him in you arms again.

Of course you knew he wouldn't be the same man as before after these months in jail, but a small part of you still hoped that you'd get back to normal quite fast. Oh, how wrong you were.

When Spencer first came through the door - Penelope came to pick him up, he didn't want you anywhere near that prison - he practically fell into your amrs and remained like that for what felt like hours. Still, once he pulled away it felt too soon. He was distant, but not unusually so, more like when he had been on a tough case and just needed some space. So, you gave him what he needed.

After your time together you learnt how to read him quite well and with every shy smile he gave you once he realised you were profiling him, you felt like you got a little bit of your Spencer back.

But, you soon realised that he wanted a lot more space than usual. Even when his body language practically screamed for you to be close to him or at least be in the same room, he still kindly asked you fro space. Which was fine, until it wasn't.

You took a week off work to help him get settled in again and today was your first day back at work. Everything was fine and Spencer even hugged you goodbye before you left. You felt so special, as he rarely seeked out any touch these days. Nights that would have been spent cuddled together were now spent on opposite sides with Spencer as far away from you as humanly possible on the bed.

Checking in with him at lunchtime, he told you he had ordered in some food and was now reading some russian book you've never heard of.

You left work the moment the clock hit 6pm and drove home as fast as you could with all the traffic. Opening the door, you take off your shoes and place your keys on the designated hook.

Moving further into the apartment, you realise something is off. You don't see Spencer. Usually when he reads he sits in his favourite chair by the window, the old thing already indented from where he always sits. But he was nowhere to be soon.

"Spence, I'm home," you call out, but are only met with silence. Before you could worry too much, you opened the bedroom door and the sight that awaited you broke your heart.

There was Spencer, you sweet and amazing boyfriend, lying under the covers with tears running down his face. He obviously hasn't registered that you were home, hi hands pulling his legs even tighter against his torso.

You've never seen someone this tall seem so small.

Taking a step forward, you reach out your hand to him, not quite touching him yet.

"Spencer... what's wrong? Please, talk to me?" Once he realised you were there he almost jumped out of his skin in the way he jerked back. Eyes wide he quickly searched for the quickest route out of this situation, but he was quick to realise that he had to talk to you.

He let out a heavy sigh, before scooting back and leaning against the headboard, giving you the space to sit down on the edge of the bed, which he previosuly occupied.

Taking a deep breath he started to talk. "Uhm- uh- as you've probably realised, the other people in prison weren't the nicest to me and I- uhm-," Spencer was evidently having problems with finding the right words, but you were quick to assure him to take his time.

"So, I'll just say I had a hard time, I don't want you to know what they did to me, what I had to do to them. And I- I just don't really know how to act anymore, you know? I'm not- I'm not the same person that I was before prison and that uh- scares me a bit, I guess. I- I don't know who I am anymore. I'm scared."

If your heart could even break any more, it just did. Knowing how insecure Spencer had felt previously and how he had gained so much confidence since you've gotten together. To see this confidence shattered pained you so much.

"Oh, Spencer. I can't even imagine what you have gone through, but I'm so proud of you, you know?" at that he perked up, his previously downcast eyes now meeting yours, "I am proud of you. You did it, it's over and your're here now. You're safe you know and I'm so glad you're back. I love you so much Spencer and I will help you in any way I can. But please, you need to talk to me. I worry about you, because I deeply love you and I only want the best for you."

You could see tears glistening in his eyes again.

"It won't be easy you know... trying to love me."

"Spence, I don't have to try to love you, because I already do. I love you unconditionally, no matter how hard times may get, I'll always be there for you, okay? Loving you is not a task or a burden, but it's a choice. And everyday I wake up and I chose you," with your last word your finger pokes his chest and Spencer finally realsies that this is real.

He is not in prison anymore, he is free. He has you, the love of his life who also loves him back.

Spencer can't take it anymore, he throws himself into your arms and he lets the tears fall freely, soaking your shirt. You don't mind and you also know that he knows that.

This is not over and it will take a while for everything to get back to normal - or whatever normal will be in the future - but now you both knew that it was going to be alright.

the requests for this event ARE CLOSED! thank you to everybody who requested something, I'm now getting to the last ones.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

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minhosglasses · 3 months ago

Text

I've got you - B.C

plot: after an argument with your mother ends in the worst situation for you, you now need to recover in rehabilitation. your new personal trainer chan doesn't only become your motivation to be able to walk again, but also a friend or maybe even lover for life.

pairing: bangchan x gn reader

genre: personal trainer x client, angst, fluff, comfort

warnings: car crash, injury scars, psychological abusive parents

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i got inspired by an old lee know imagine I read years ago on wattpad, if you're that person then let me know bc the inspo is obv to you♡

“Yeah mom I'm in my car right now” the car door flies open as you try to keep everything in your hands without dropping any of it.

When finally seated in the car you throw your bag in the passenger seat and start driving before buckling up, there was no time for that. You were already late and your mother's faint but also loud voice on the other side of the phone was not helping this stress. Every time you hear your mother on the other line repeating that you should've left earlier and respect your family more, you could only feel the wish of not reaching the destination grow more and more.

“Mom, I understand I will be there soon. I'm leaving my parking lot as we speak” you could barely hear what her answer was before you hear more chatter in the background get louder and louder. You knew you'd be the talk of it all once you got there. They'd keep on asking questions about how you don't have a better job yet, no partner that could help you, no partner that YOU can benefit from. For them it's just a good job to get money or a good partner that brings in even more money.

At this point you weren't even listening to your mother anymore. The closer you get to the gathering the more the anxiety grows inside of you. Why today of all days? They could've picked any other day but right now you're in the middle of finding a new job. If that information somehow comes out you'd never see the light of day.

You keep on driving and at this point your mother is so lost in her own rumbling that she doesn’t realise you stopped listening way past 10 minutes ago. You wanted to hit that mute button so badly or just end the call but when the phone is laying on the passenger seat and you’re on the highway it was impossible to take your eyes off the road.

“Are you even hearing me right now?!” you hear coming from your phone.

“Yes mom I’m hearing you perfectly” you finally pull up by a red light and take this chance to take your phone and end the call. You look around and your surroundings seems to be fine and you reach over for the phone. Your mother is still screaming and you suddenly force yourself to interrupt her. “Well mom I’m gonna go now, you know I’m arriving in an hour”

You see the light go green and you panic since you still have your phone in your hand right now. You say goodbye loudly over the phone as your mother still has stuff to say, you just wish she could keep it until you get there or she hopefully forgets until then. “Mom I have to dri-”

CRASH

You don’t even get to finish your sentence before you feel a force from behind of your car push you forward. Your phone is quickly nowhere out of sight and everything happens in a millisecond. That seatbelt that you so in panic did not put on suddenly felt like it was needed as the force sent you out of the window. Your ears are ringing and your vision blurry as you can’t quite understand what happened. All that you can feel is your adrenaline rushing through you, but it was also the only thing you could feel at all.

A week later

Your dry eyes open and a white light hits you in the face immediately making you sigh in frustration. The same white light that has been torturing your eyes for the past week. Your mind still can’t comprehend what has happened and neither can your body. Your right leg is covered in a cast and multiple bruises and so far you can not feel yourself being able to move it. You felt like you knew your fate from here. You were praying to yourself or whoever you felt might hear it that this was not the way it was supposed to go for you. That you’d walk again and that something out there would save you from this grave you felt like you were digging.

Your phone was laying quiet on the bedside table. The screen was cracked but at least it was still working. But seeing the screen was even worse. Because you could see that your family had not sent a single message about it. The only messages were from that day and how they couldn’t believe you stood them up, how you’re so ungrateful and how you should be ashamed that you didn’t show up. It didn’t matter how may tries it took to tell her that your leg was beat up to the point where you’d probably have to be in crutches forever, she probably felt even more ashamed to have a child who couldn’t even walk properly anymore. Your shaky fingers reached for the camera icon, but you kept stopping in your tracks. Did you really wanna see it? You weren’t feeling anything but something might be there.

You let your thumb press the icon and the view made you gasp. Across your cheek there was a huge white bandage with small bits of blood in it, possibly from the scar it was hiding underneath. The heaviness in your chest grew even more and the tears in your eyes were burning. You couldn’t cry, not here. Because the tears were not for you, they were for them, because of them. The way you knew they’d see you even worse now, and how they would rather yell at you and call you ungrateful than pay you one visit at the hospital where you’ve been for a week.

“Excuse me Y/N?” your tears were interrupted by a sudden voice, the voice belonging to your nurse. You quickly dried your tears with the back of your hand to meet her gaze, making her give you a reassuring smile. “I know this is difficult for you… Do you need me to leave?” you quickly shook her head, she probably had a reason for entering and you didn’t wanna stop her from doing her job. You feel yourself zone out, you could barely feel anything right now. You just wanted to go back to bed and never wake up again. “I also came to tell you that your doctor has seen some improvement. I understand that it’s difficult for you right now, but with the right training and rehab it’s looking good for you to be able to stand on your own again” it didn’t even make you smile. It was only possible if you pushed through, and right now you didn’t even wanna push yourself to let your feet hit the cold floor.

There was a sudden knock on the door, making you quickly lay your eyes on a younger man. He was in a grey hoodie and his hair was being covered by a black cap that also covered half of his face. You looked at him worryingly, was this someone you knew? Someone who came to visit you that wasn’t your family?

“Oh Chan! Come in” the nurse said by your side, making you even more confused. You met her eyes with a gaze that said “help”. “Oh Y/N! This is Chan, he works in the rehabilitation center in the other building across the street. He’s the best of the best and we thought you could need motivation by maybe seeing him for a while. We really believe that you can be on your feet again soon” your mind was having a million questions at the same time. You realised he was still standing in front of your bed and all you could do was give him a wave.

“I’m sorry to just burst in, I understand you must have a lot to process right now. I just wanted to come and say hi and possibly talk with you about your pain to see what we could work with” his voice was calm but the undertone also had the sadness, like he was sad that you were in this situation to begin with.

The room went cold as the nurse left you and Chan to talk. You didn’t know where to start. You were barely talking to the nurses at this point. You could see that he had dealt with this before. He did not seem stressed, nervous or awkward. He just sat there until you showed any sign that you were ready. Like he could sit there for days.

“Uhm…” you slowly started just to get a word out. Your voice felt weird and your throat was dry. “Where do we begin?” your voice got shakier as you spoke, it was difficult to even accept that a personal trainer was sitting in your room. It would have been nicer to see one in a situation that wasn’t in the hospital because of an injury.

“Why don’t you just start by telling me where it hurts, and how would you rate that one to ten? Your nurses have already gone through some with me, but I wanna hear it from you”

You nodded, suddenly you went back to quiet again. It has all gone too fast, why were you here? Was it because you wished that you wouldn’t make it there? Was this your own fault? You let out a shaky breath as you realised you had to move on, and started pointing to where it hurt. Every time you point to somewhere you see him taking notes in his book.

“It’s numb” you say with tears in your eyes. He stops writing immediately and closes his book to look at you. “I can’t barely feel it” you let the tears roll down your cheeks, feeling the scary situation take over you and swallow you whole.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be scary I know” Chan started as he laid a hand on your trembling hand. It was like he could feel your fear through it. It was cold and shaking, he had seen many clients be worried for themselves but this really made his heart ache. You both seem to be close in age, he couldn’t imagine what he himself would feel like if he was in your position. “You got this, you’re so strong” his words were calming you down as you could finally breathe normally and see clearly again.

Your cries went quiet as Chan’s questions went on. It was difficult to describe as you never felt like you could grasp the situation itself. Every time you thought back on the situation you felt that adrenaline rush again. How you just fell out of the car and how you could’ve saved yourself if you just had focused. But nothing could take you back now, it was only a matter of time before you had to look forward and make yourself you again.

______________

Today was your first meeting with Chan. You had finally left the hospital bed and was currently using crutches or a wheelchair as support. Waiting outside of the rehabilitation gym you looked at yourself in the mirror outside. The scar had healed a bit more with small parts of scab left, but you could see on the more healed parts that this would never go unnoticable. There would be scars from your stitches across your cheek and you knew that no one would be able to see the rest of your face first. You sighed at the sight of yourself, your family would never wanna look at you now, barely you wanted to either. Who cares if the leg healed or not, it’s not the first thing they see.

“Y/N?” you turned your head to your right, seeing Chan right there. You quickly studied him up and down, realising he was different from when you first saw him. He was now wearing a black oversized t-shirt and no cap, making him show his pretty brown hair which was laid on the side.

He was very good looking there was no denying that. Which made you lay your hand on your own cheek. You knew it wasn’t weird to him, he often helped people that come out of situations like yours. But the self cautious feelings took over you in the moment, and while leaning on your crutch you tried to make the hood of your sweater cover your cheek.

You couldn’t tell if he saw it or not, but that couldn’t matter for long enough either because the important part was to make yourself walk again. There weren’t many people in the gym, just a few people older than you with their own trainors.

Chan walked you over to a more quiet area where it was mostly a floor covered in black foam carpet.

“Let’s just start easy and foam roll the muscle, then we’ll try to keep your core strength since you can lose it if you have to walk less right now. Does that sound okay?” you could only nod. This whole situation made you nervous, you knew that the slightest fail could push your motivation even further back than it already is.

Chan takes your hand carefully as he helps you sit down on the floor. He gently places the foam roller under your leg making you wince at the small pain the lift gave you. You start pushing your leg back and forth on the foam roller feeling fine the first few minutes. You felt some weight lift from your shoulders as you did a few more minutes. Maybe you were worried for nothing?

The time goes by pretty slowly but you feel better than you thought you would. Maybe this could actually be something. Or that was until the dreaded question left Chan’s lips,

“Do you wanna try walking with support from these bars?”

He was standing by two pairs of metal bars, and just seeing them made you feel uneasy. But was it worth giving up now? It wouldn’t hurt to try right? In return you nodded at him, making him run back to you to help you up. You had an arm over his shoulder and he tried lifting you from the floor a bit so that you wouldn’t have to limp over there.

Chan carefully sets you down between the bars, letting you get a good grip on them before he finally lets go of your body. You feel your whole weight land evenly on both of your legs but as soon as it starts feeling great you feel your body fall to the side.

Your leg can’t support it enough.

Before your body can hit the floor you feel a pair of arms back around you. Chan was quick to catch you and through his embrace of you he could feel your panicked breath.

“Hey… hey it’s okay just breathe. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you fall I promise” he said, patting your head as well. “I know that was scary, I should’ve held onto you a bit more over the floor. I didn’t mean to just let go I’m sorry”

Tears pricked in your eyes once again. This felt hopeless once again. How was this ever going to be fixed? How can someone fix a broken part like this? Babies could walk better than you.

“This is so useless…” you muttered. It hurt Chan’s heart that the first time since the hospital where you speak to him is you talking down on yourself. He kept patting your head and tried to not make himself lose his cool as he heard your small sobs in his arms.

“Don’t say that we have many sessions ahead of us to improve. This is only the first time” he carried you down onto the carpet again, making sure your leg wasn’t touching the floor at all. Your cries had gone quiet but your face was really red.

As Chan set you down he kept seeing you pull that hood in front of your face. He sat down in front of you trying to make you meet his eyes, but once you did you faced the other way. He knew exactly why, but it was not something he was going to pressure you about. He knew injuries in parts such as the face took a toll on people, and it seemed even tougher on you.

“Please don’t look at me…” you put your head in your hands. “This scar is huge, it’s disgusting. It makes me look so…”

“Sad?” Chan finished your sentence with. You tried looking back up without showing most of your face, and of course your eyes met his. They never left you. “You know what I think?” he started, making you shake your head. “I think it makes you look strong. It tells people that something happened to you, yet you’re still here standing. And to me that is an extremely admiring person to me” he continued with a small smile, only making you smile bigger in return. His heart fluttered at that smile, he knew he wanted to make this wonderful perso achieve their goals even more now. They were gonna reach the top and he would be by their side.

_____________

Some weeks turned into a month of seeing Chan. You couldn’t help but feel safe around him as he tried to motivate you to do even better every day. You knew it was his job, but something about just letting you lead it as well made you trust him even more. There was no family that was expecting you to do things their way, or your mother telling you to just get yourself together. He was there, but you were taking your time. And for the first time that was okay.

“Okay so now you walk over to me” he said gesturing with his hands to slowly start walking. This was always the part of the session that you dreaded. Many falls had happened but no bruises added as Chan always caught you in time.

You keep your arms steady on the bars and try to lightly let go with each step. You felt the knee pushing against your will, but the muscles had to be trained again. The closer you got to Chan the more your smile started growing. With every session you felt like you were getting somewhere and this was the closest you’d ever gotten to walk without bars. With just a few meters left until you could take Chan’s hands for support you feel the strength in your leg giving out, making you fall forward this time. Your heart starts pounding faster the moment you feel your leg give out but you never meet the floor.

Chan was almost laying underneath you as he had leaned down to prevent you from falling. He could see that the position got awkward for you so he slowly starts sitting down while helping you down onto the floor. But on the way down your leg still hasn’t gotten its full strength back and you end up falling forward onto Chan. Now having him lay under you.

At first your face becomes red, this was not supposed to happen. But as your eyes meet his deep brown ones, something tells both of you that this okay. Making you both start laughing together.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay? My leg totally gave out” you were still laughing with a slight hint of worry in your voice as you literally had just dropped your full weight onto him.

“Nono I’m totally fine, I’m happy I caught you in time-”

“What exactly is going on?” your laughs were interrupted by a very familiar voice belonging to a woman. A special woman being your mother herself. Looking her into the eyes you quickly scooch yourself off of Chan and he keeps his hands close to you incase something starts hurting. He’s just about to support your leg until your mother yells, “Do not touch my child!” Chan doesn’t seem to listen, since he in a way is doing his job during your session.

“Mom? Why are you here?” you ask her, slightly embarrassed that she is scolding Chan right now for doing his job. “I thought you didn’t care about my rehabilitation” you didn’t see it as Chan stood behind you by now but his face fell and he realised he had never seen you with family or even heard you talk about them.

“Why wouldn’t I care? I'm your mother!” she says harshly, studying you up and down. You were only in a pair of sweats and a hoodie since baggy clothes made it easier for you to move your leg, especially with a cast on. “But I see you’re doing other things than working on your walking or how to cover up that ugly scar” the scar was healed by now, but the stitches had now left the big scar more visible. Which with Chan you hadn’t really thought about anymore, you no longer felt the need to cover your face around him.

Chan didn’t know what to say. He was watching you taking harsh comments from your own mother and he didn’t know when it was time for him to say something. Technically the situation you were in could be seen as wrong as you are his client. But at the same time he promised he’d never let you fall and he was holding onto that promise.

He could see how your hands were shaking against the sides of your body. He slowly walked up behind you while your mother was talking to hold your hand. Your hand was shaking in his, but that didn’t matter. The comfort was exactly what you needed since your mother could not hold back to scold you even in your rehab hours.

“Have you tried makeup? How is that scar gonna be covered and gone when I bring you home again? They will wonder how you can’t take care of yourself and I will be blamed for that” your mother went on, you really wondered how she had the energy to do this.

“I’m sorry Ms L/N but I think it’s time you stop” you hear Chan say behind you making your breath hitch.

“Excuse me how dare-”

“You’re in my gym during my work hours when I’m here trying to help your child how to walk normally again. And if you had been here or checked their medical records that I fill in after every session you’d see that they are doing much better than when they were admitted to me.” you squeezed his hand tightly, not being able to speak up in front of your mother right now you felt your heart beating faster. And you knew it wasn’t because of the stress of your mother right now. “So either you leave right now, or I’m gonna have to call security because I have to keep helping them now”

“And the scar?” she asks.

“Ms L/N I’m not a doctor, I’m just a personal trainer. And even if I were, I probably wouldn’t be able to do more than they already have. You should be happy your oen kid is still standing here, that scar is showing how she fought for her life. They are the strongest person I’ve ever met as a trainer here and you should be proud of them because I sure am” he said confidently. “Now please leave” and as you watch your mother turn her back towards the both of you you feel Chan’s thumb caress the upper part of your hand.

You didn’t know what to do at that moment. For the first time in forever someone had been on your side. Chan was just about to open his mouth to speak but before he could you turned around and hugged him. He was caught off guard by the action but as soon as he registered what’s happening his hands found their way to your hips.

You stood there together for what felt like a solid minute. It felt special to finally have someone see you. And you didn’t care if that person wasn’t in your family, he was your motivation and you never wanted to let go of him. When you decide to let go all you can do is smile at him, which he happily returns to you. Your smile was his happiness, because it meant that even in your darkest days right now there was a smile underneath it somewhere.

A few minutes later you’re sitting on the floor together, your session ended about 15 minutes ago. You were telling him about your injury that day, how no one came to the hospital and how he is the only one who you’ve been with since then. He sat there with your hands in his lap and every time you shed a tear he made sure to catch them for you. Sometimes thinking back on it you start panic crying and having hiccups, and every time you have them Chan makes sure to see you even more. Telling you it’s okay, to start again whenever you want, and if you want to stop talking then he doesn’t need to know more of it.

“Hey look at me” Chan’s hand lay carefully on your cheek drying away your tears. “You’re amazing, you know that right?” you start laughing at his comment which only makes him giggle as well. “I’m serious! I’ve seen you go through it this whole month and you’re so strong for even doing this in the first place. Back at the hospital I saw how scared you were, and now I know you were lonely as well. But I am here. I’m sitting here with you now and you’ve grown into a much stronger version of yourself. And even if you fall, then I’ve got you. I’m there to catch you every time”

_______________________

You open the doors from the rehabilitation building and step outside, taking in the good sunny weather together with the warm sunny breeze. The weather was good but today had also been your last session together with Chan. You couldn’t help but feel sad about it. There were days that discouraged you, yes, but he was always there to pick you up. And now you could walk again, which you back then never thought would be possible.

“So, you’re leaving already?” you heard Chan ask behind you.

Turning around you see him in that same grey hoodie he had during your first meeting at the hospital. Something about you two together felt so special to you, and you for sure wouldn’t forget it. You were already sad to part ways with him so being remembered about your days together made you a bit sentimental.

“I guess, we’re not working together anymore. Who are you supposed to have fun with now?” you said, making him smile brightly.

“No one of course” he was laughing a lot with his big smile which just made your heart flutter even more. He really was the best at making you feel like a better version of yourself. “Hey, by the way” he started nervously fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. You gave him a small nod to show that you’re listening and after a quiet minute he went on. “Now that we’re not working together, do you think I could take you out?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Take you out? You looked at him in shock not realising he just asked what he asked.

“Me…? Yeah absolutely” the relief you felt in your body hit you, you actually get to see him a bit more.

“Maybe we could start now? There’s a beach down the road here. Just to hang out?” you eagerly nodded and without a thought you were both heading for the beach.

The seagulls were making loud noises and the sun was high in the sky. It was a bit windy which caused the salty water to sometimes hit your face. But this feeling was incredible. After months of rehab you had never felt so free and alive in yourself again. And with Chan by your side you felt like you were in paradise.

With your shoes in one hand and Chan’s hand in the other you both walked along the shore with your feet half deep in the water. Feeling the sun hit your face felt refreshing. You never thought you’d end up walking along the shore with Chan, or walking here at all. But you pushed through and for once you felt proud of yourself for pushing through.

Suddenly Chan stopped in his tracks and looked out towards the ocean. He starts walking deeper into the water, gesturing with his hands that you should follow him. With both of you in the water you both start realising it wasn’t the best choice since the winds are getting stronger, and before you both knew it you both fall backwards into the water. But of course someone caught you in time. Looking over at Chan he made sure to have you fall onto him first. In that moment it felt like all of these months leading up to this was made for the both you, and before you know it Chan closed the distance between the both of you.

You felt fireworks going off inside of your stomach and trying to stay calm to not ruin it. Putting your body weight onto him he ends up with his whole back in the water and wet sand. But to him nothing mattered at all in this moment but you and him together. After pulling away he made sure to still hold you close, one hand on your cheek and the other keeping you with him.

“I told you I’ve got you, I’ll catch you everytime”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan angst #christopher bang #skz angst

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