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writingfics-passingtime · 19 days ago

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Hi lovely! Here’s my ask: Bucky and reader have been pinning for each other nonchalantly for a while but reader says something that causes Bucky to throw them over his shoulder and threatens to tickle the shit out of them (and then does it after seeing how flustered they are). Feelings get confessed, weaknesses are exposed, it’s a whole plate of fluff. 🥰😘

hell. why not? This prompt is so fun - thanks, anon! hope you enjoy x

Predictable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (no pronouns used)

Word count: ~1500

Content / warnings: swearing, kissing, tickle fic

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

The hallway was quiet except for the sharp click of your boots and the heavy, measured steps of Bucky Barnes beside you. The mission briefing had ended, the others scattering to their own quarters, leaving you and him walking under the hum of fluorescent lights.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight,” you said, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Bored? Lost in thought? Don’t tell me you’re planning another dramatic brooding session. Maybe in front of a window, rain streaking down the glass?”

Bucky looked at you, one brow quirked, his lips curling faintly at the corner. “You done?”

“I gotta say, you’re really sticking to the dark soldier aesthetic,” you quipped, hands shoved in your pockets. “It’s impressive. Very consistent.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. “Consistent, huh? That your way of saying I’m boring?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say boring.” You turned to him, letting your grin curl just sharp enough to bait him. “More… predictable.”

He stopped walking, his head tilting just slightly, and the gleam in his eye made something in your chest tighten.

“Predictable?” he repeated, his tone soft, like he was rolling the word around to test it.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the grin threatening to spread. “It’s not a bad thing, Bucky. You’re… reliable. Steady. I can set my watch by your moods - glare, brood, occasional grunt of disapproval. It’s comforting, really.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the silence and tension stretching between you.

“What?” you asked, try to hold back a smirk. “Did I hit a nerve?”

His gaze sharpened on yours, glinting with something dark and teasing that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. “You really think I’m predictable?”

The air between you crackled with tension, each word a spark igniting the unspoken feelings lurking beneath the surface. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected you.

“I’m just saying-”

Before you could finish, he moved. Quick as a snap, his hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him. You stumbled, nearly cursing, before he bent low, braced his shoulder into your middle, and straightened, hoisting you up and over.

“Bucky!” Your voice came out an octave higher than usual, your palms pressing against his broad back as you flailed. “Put me down!” you hissed, your fists pounding helplessly at his shoulders as the world spun upside down.

He ignored you, his laughter low and dangerous as it rumbled through his chest. “Still think I’m predictable?”

“Yes! You’re-” Your voice caught, your brain short-circuiting when his palm splayed against the back of your thigh to keep you steady. The touch was firm, effortless, and it did unforgivable things to your ability to form coherent words. “Y-you’re shooting the messenger. This is completely unnecessary!”

“Unnecessary?” he echoed, his tone laced with a sinister amusement. “You sure about that? Because I think this is overdue.”

Your stomach flipped at the shift in his voice - low and teasing, laced with a playful edge you’d never heard before.

He turned a corner abruptly and nudged open a door with his boot, stepping into a small, dimly lit storage room.

“Wait, what- what are you doing?” you demanded, kicking your legs uselessly. “Bucky, I swear- ”

“I’d save your breath if I were you,” he said darkly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Your mind lurched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A slow, devilish chuckle rolled through him. “It means, smartass, that I’m about to tickle the shit outta you.”

Your brain flatlined.

You froze. Completely froze. For the first time, your mouth opened - but nothing came out. Heat flared across your entire body, and Bucky’s amused hum was like a spark to gasoline.

“Oh,” he hummed, patting your thigh like some cruel punctuation to your embarrassment, “that got your attention.”

“Shut up!” you finally spluttered, mortified, because now he knew. Now he knew, and you’d just handed him a weapon far more dangerous than any gun or blade.

His laughter was low, dark, and - gods help you - so unfairly attractive that it only made things worse. “What, did I hit a nerve?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Your squirming renewed tenfold, panic spiking through you as you tried to push yourself up off his shoulder. “Don’t you dare, Bucky Barnes! I swear-”

He unceremoniously let you drop back onto your feet, your balance faltering as you collided with his chest, still breathless. You shoved at him instinctively, trying to regain your footing, but he was already advancing, backing you toward the nearest wall.

Your face was on fire now, your usual sharp wit nowhere to be found. You’d never seen him like this - playful, teasing, free - and it was completely throwing you off.

You stammered, breath catching as your back hit the wall. “B-Bucky- no! Don’t-”

“You're really worked up about this,” he interrupted, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk tugging at his lips. The shadows softened the hard lines of his face, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something else.

He leaned in slightly, caging you in with his hands braced against the wall beside your head. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not,” you hissed, even as you felt your face go hotter.

The smirk grew. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not-”

"Predict this, sweetheart."

Before you could blink, his hands darted to your hips, fingers digging in with deliberate precision. Your reaction was immediate - a gasp, a choked laugh you couldn’t swallow back in time.

“No!” you shrieked, laughter already bubbling out of you as you squirmed violently. “I take it back, okay?! I take it back!”

“Too late,” Bucky replied, grinning like the devil himself as his hands squeezed your sides again. “Now I’m invested.”

"B-Bucky! Cut it out!"

“Cut it out?” he repeated, his tone mock-innocent as his fingers dugs across your ribs. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

“Shut up!” you managed between gasping laughs, your cheeks burning with humiliation and something dangerously close to exhilaration.

“Is this what you wanted?” he taunted, his voice dark and edged with amusement. “When you called me predictable? Did you want me to prove you wrong?”

Your response was lost in another fit of helpless laughter as his hands found a particularly sensitive spot just under your ribs. You twisted against him, but his grip was unrelenting, his body solid against you.

You let out a strangled laugh, pressing back against the wall as your knees started to give. “You’re- you’re cool! And- and spontaneous and - Bucky - fuck! You’re hot and mysterious and-”

He paused for a second, his grin sharpening as he processed your accidental confession. “Hot, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug.

Your face burned like the sun. “I didn’t mean- fuck, just forget I said-”

“Oh, no,” he said, his hands still firmly on your waist. “I think we’re gonna talk about that later.”

“Buck, I didn't-”

“Nope,” he interrupted, his fingers digging into your sides again, drawing another breathless shriek from you. “We’re not done yet.”

Your laughter filled the room, wild and unguarded, as you tried in vain to squirm away. He zeroed in on your lowest ribs, his fingers hitting angles that sent you reeling. You tried to hold on the desperate peal of laughter, but it echoed through the storage room as your knees weakened further.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your voice breaking as you gripped at his jacket to try and keep yourself upright, another shriek bursting through your lips when his fingers pressed into another susceptible spot. "Please! I can't breathe- BUCKY!"

His grin softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something quieter, something genuine. He caught your chin gently with one hand, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Hot, huh?” he repeated, softer this time, his eyes searching yours.

The word hung in the air, a moment of suspended silence between frantic laughter and tension thick enough to choke on. You froze, still panting, your face burning with horror.

Bucky stilled too, his gaze locking onto yours. Then, slowly, his grin returned - this time sharper, hungrier.

His lips were on yours before you could think, a sudden, fiery kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

You melted immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he pressed you further into the wall, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head back, the other gripping your hip. The heat of it was overwhelming, his lips firm and insistent. It was messy, unpracticed, and searingly real.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, still panting, cheeks aflame. His thumb brushed your temple, sending a shiver up your spine, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as his lips grazed yours.

“Did you see that coming, too?”

You couldn’t help it - you grinned against his lips. “Yeah. From a mile away.”

Before he had the chance to retaliate, you kissed him again.

#answered #thanks anon!#bucky x reader #ticklish!reader #no y/n #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine

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lacesoflove · 20 days ago

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hi! ive never requested before so sorry if this is worded weird but was wondering if you could write something where hamzah make the reader squ!rt for the first tike and he assures her its nothing to be ashamed of

soaked for you (request) | hamzah x fem!reader

rating | smut (fem recieving)

warning | afab!reader, proofread

w/c: 1.5k

author's note | this was a god request! i love requests or prompts that allow me to incorporate plot with porn. this might be the hottest thing i've written dare i say? the ending lowkey sucks tho but wtv

THE LATE NIGHT, TORONTO RAIN WAS BRUTAL WITH IT’S RELENTLESSNESS.

You didn’t mind, not entirely, anyways, you liked the petrichor scent rain always brought in and the rumbling sound of thunder. The one thing you didn’t appreciate was the humidity. Thanks to the sheer fucking humidity, you had now found yourself wearing shorts, no underwear, and one of your boyfriend’s many stupid slogan shirts he had “jokingly” ordered from Temu (he claimed to have ordered them as jokes but considering the volume of how many he owned, you weren’t sure now). This one happened to read: best farter, I mean father, ever. It was comfy and didn’t make you feel hot, at least. Although, even with your minimal amount of layers and the fan blowing cold wind into your room, it wasn’t enough to rid of your uncomfortable state of being a tad too warm and, as if to make matters worse, you had found yourself occupied with an erotica novel that was causing you to burn with desire. You had picked the obviously low quality book from Ben McNally as a joke with some friends, it was something to laugh at, truthfully, given the book’s bizarre plot being centred around a woman and her computer that turns into a sentient male being. Shamefully, you found yourself squirming at the surprisingly detailed sex descriptions and it didn’t help that everytime you looked above your book you saw your boyfriend, Hamzah. The humidity had gotten to him too, it seems. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and chose to just wear baggy grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, allowing the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers to peek through. You felt easy. All it took was a shittily written sex novel from the discount bin and watching your boyfriend do something as mundane as organising the clothes on his side of your closet for you to feel yourself bloom with wetness. The need for him and his touch was making you antsy - jittery even. You chose to ignore the feeling.

After all, you and him had sex in the morning and the night before. You didn’t want to come off as needy so you resumed reading your book that you were convinced was partly written by Chat GPT, and sometime between the protagonist somehow getting pregnant by her sentient robot boyfriend and her nearly dying in some contrived plot point, your boyfriend had settled in the spot next to you. You closed your book and set it to the side, mentally bookmarking where you left off before turning your attention to him. “Hey.” You smiled at him, trying to ignore how shifty your legs had become against your own will. You hated how physically obvious it was that you needed him sometimes. Again, it made you feel easy or like a whore. Which didn’t really make sense because you only really slept with him - but your mind was a contradictory, and sometimes, cruel place. “Hey,” he smiled back, albeit a bit tiredly. “You good?” “I’m good.” You replied back, looking down at him. Fuck he looked good. He’d look better on top of me, you thought. You tried to cast that thought and others, similar, away. “Just tired from YouTube and shit,” he paused a bit as he rubbed his eyes. “I lost a brand deal because, according to them, we’re not ‘brand friendly’ enough,” Hamzah remarked, enunciating the words ‘brand friendly.’ “Like fuck, and they’re the ones that reached out to us for a collaboration.” You nodded, barely taking what he was saying in, as your eyes lingered around his V-line. “Damn that sucks.” You mumbled. You were distracted and Hamzah wasn’t an idiot. He took you in, properly, and the pieces of the puzzle fell together when his eyes landed on your shorts. They were of a thin material and white, so it was quite easy seeing the wet patch. “What’s this?” He asked innocently enough. “What’s what-” your question was quickly answered as his fingers traced the outline of the desire that had bloomed in your pants. “Uh, I just spilled water on myself.”

“Mmm.” Was all Hamzah let out, his finger lazily going from the crotch of your shorts to your plush thigh, grazing gentle circles against your perfumed skin. He knew you were lying - but if you were lying, it must’ve meant you didn’t want him to take it as a sign for doing something. He was happy with just touching you just like this. You felt your body wet with his touch. Fuck I need him, you thought, as you watched him continue to trace little outlines of abstract shapes against your body, his eyes boring into your body as if it was on display at the Lourve.

“Hamzah.” You spoke, finally managing to swallow the lump in your throat. You never knew why you were so nervous to ask him to touch you or have sex with you, you always wanted it, and you were sure he did too.

“Hmm?” He hummed, his eyes lifting to meet your gaze.

“I - I’d like to-” you were struggling to find words. Not that he needed any anyway. Your soaked shorts, the nervous lust that was blooming in your eyes and just your general energy was a dead giveaway that you were looking for something more. Something he was proud only he could give you.

He began to move, settling his head to rest on your upper thigh. “What would you like, baby?” He asked you, his fingers toying with the drawstrings of your shorts. “You.” You replied, breathily. With that, he had slid your shorts off your legs and discarded them sloppily somewhere in the chaos of your untidied room. He planted a kiss against your vulva, before lifting his eyes to meet your eyes - a silent ask of approval to go further. You nodded and he latched his mouth against your pussy. Always managing to do so with a hungrier desperation than the last time he ate you out. You felt your pussy throb as he licked long, hot stripes against it and felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his nose made repeated contact with your oh-so sensitive bud.

You felt euphoric.

He lifted his middle and forefinger to your mouth, grazing them lightly against your lip - gesturing for you to open your mouth. You obliged. You took the taste of his fingers in and rolled it against your tongue before letting them out of your mouth. His fingers, now lubricated, entered your folds and into you. You shot your head back as the pleasure overwhelmed you. You glanced down to look at the view below you and all you could think was, God.

The way his eyes were gleaming with dedication, the way his mouth was covered in your slick want as he licked - or rather, devoured - every drop of your desire and the way his fingers grazed the insides of your walls. Fuck it was too much and it made you feel so full - until you suddenly weren’t and you felt a release of sorts. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, sure - but you had felt more overstimulated sexually before, that there was no way you had orgasmed. Until it hit you and you felt an overwhelming wash of shame. You had squirted. At least you think you did, you had never had that happen before.

That was the only logical, and also most embarrassing, reason as to why you felt a release of liquid that you were, at least, certain wasn’t pee. Almost instinctively, you closed your legs and refused to look down at your boyfriend. For Hamzah, he was taken a little bit by surprise by your sudden demeanour change and became worried that he done something wrong. “Baby is everything okay?” He pressed.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just sorry about that.”

He was still confused. “About what?”

You stayed quiet for a bit before answering, “Whatever that was. That was probably gross as fuck for you.” Several realisations hit him at once.

He realised that you were referring to yourself squirting. You were embarrassed by it and were probably going to push him away because of aforementioned embarrassment. He took his fingers into his own mouth, cleaning your slick off of them and pressed his mouth against the back of his hand, wiping and promptly got up. “Baby it’s normal.” “I know it’s normal.” You groaned out. “It’s still embarrassing.” “There’s nothing embarrassing about you having a good time.” He assured you, reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“I know but it still just is.”

“Well I want you to know I personally enjoyed it.” He said, with a gentle smile and shrug. “I like knowing you’re enjoying yourself, and me.” You couldn’t help squirm under his reassuring gaze. “So are you done feeling embarrassed by something that you shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed about.” You took his words in, And honestly? You did feel less embarrassed. “Yeah I do.” He feverishly began to plant kisses against your neck. “You know I love you right?” He asked you. “I do.” “And I don’t want you feeling embarrassed for dumb shit okay?” You nodded. “So can we go again?” He asked you. “And can I make you squirt again because, personally I found it hot as fuck.” With that you chuckled. “Yeah sure.”

And with that he took you back in.

taglist: @adiormoi @cheesecakeluver @sillyfungirl10112 @xoxoange1l @riddlerloveb0t (lmk if you want to be added)

#hamzah #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #slushynoobz #hamzah the fantastic #hamzahthefantasticxreader #slushy noobz #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefanastic x reader

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coco-loco-nut · 6 months ago

Text

Broken Bones

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: George gets in a wreck and you happen to be the surgeon on-call.

a/n: i loved this prompt, i hope you love it ❤️

masterlist

————————

George was enjoying his home race, he was holding P3 with a comfortable lead due to some great defending earlier in the race. Unfortunately for him, mother nature decided to put her hand into the race and have a pop up rain shower come through.

“It should clear through shortly, let’s keep with the softs,” his engineer says, hoping to outsmart those pitting for inters. George says a quick response and continues focusing on the track, especially the dry line. With the rain pouring, he catches a wet line in turn 4, sending the car spinning and into a barrier.

You rush down a couple floors to where you have been paged. Being the only orthopedic trauma surgeon in the hospital and on-call, you have to make haste.

“Is there really no one else to take this?” you ask, looking at the chart that has initial images and the patient information.

“Big fan?” the nurse beside you asks as you mentally plan the procedure. Most of Britain is basically a fan of the racing driver.

“Yeah. It’s not ethical, but I took an oath,” you tightly smile, beginning the process of scrubbing in.

“You are a great surgeon, you will have no problem keeping the fan part of you out of your mind,” the nurse reassures you. You take a couple deep breaths before heading to surgery.

The procedure goes well, you repair the broken wrist and fix the damage as best you can. Of course, time will finish healing it, but you do your best.

Afterwards you scrub out, finish paperwork, and go home. You won’t need to check in until anesthesia wears off, and that can take a while. You return later in the day, dressed in business casual and your lab coat.

“Mr. Russell, how are you feeling?” you ask, needing to check on your work. You close the door behind you when you enter the room.

“You are so pretty,” George says, still a little out of it.

“Thank you. Mind if I check your arm?” you ignore your blush.

“You look like my wife. She’s a doctor too, soooo pretty,” George babbles.

“I know, love, let me see your arm,” you say gently, sitting beside him.

“What happened?” George asks with a confused look.

“You spun out and crashed into a barrier. It was raining, you were on slicks, and caught a wet line,” you explain, carefully examining the surgical site, removing the splint immobilizing the wrist.

“I know that much. Injuries?” he asks, eyes trained on your wound examination.

“Broken wrist. We are going to brace it rather than cast it,” you check his chart for other injuries noted.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, I love you,” George says, moving his non-injured hand to grab yours.

“I love you too, Georgie,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his hand as he processes everything. You note things in his chart, making sure your observations and updates are written down.

“I’m glad you did my surgery, I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” he smiles, you can’t help but smile back. It’s not illegal, but it certainly is borderline unethical to treat your husband.

“I’m happy to hear that. Why don’t I go and see if your family is out in the waiting room?”you hum, needing to stay inconspicuous. Of course, those close to you know who your husband is, but since you don’t share his last name it isn’t obvious.

“One kiss before you leave,” George pouts and you hesitate. “Please, I was just in a crash and your kisses make me feel better,” he pouts. You playfully roll your eyes and lean in, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you, I’ll be right back,” you reassure him. You find his family and Toto waiting outside in the waiting room.

“Family of Mr. Russell,” you say, calling them to you.

“Y/n, dear, did you do his surgery?” George’s mom asks, a little hopeful.

“I did, I was the only one here and on call. Thankfully nothing too major, he can probably get back into a car in a month if we rehab him correctly. Want to see him?” you ask, knowing the answer. You lead them to his room, but stop Toto before he walks in.

“Y/n-“ Toto starts but you don’t hesitate to cut him off.

“You got very lucky that the broken wrist was the worst of it. Keeping him out on slicks? Are you stupid, a win is not worth more than a life,” you fume.

“I know, I gave his engineers and strategists a talking to. I just wanted to check in on him, but knowing he is in your care is all I needed. I check in tomorrow then,” Toto stays calm, knowing you had to since George was brought in and you needed to yell at someone.

“I, um, thank you. He should only be here another day for observation. I’ll keep you updated,” you recompose yourself and watch as Toto leaves.

“She’s just the best doctor ever. So pretty too, and smart, and really good at surgery,” you overhear George tell his parents, he likely just got another dose of pain meds.

“Thank you, Georgie. You are a pretty good patient,” you smile from the doorway.

“Can you believe that doctor loves me? And she married me?” George asks his mom who laughs.

“You chose a wonderful wife. Why don’t you let her get back to work?” his mom asks, catching your amused gaze.

“Yes, I have another surgery scheduled. I will check on you in a few hours,” you walk over to your husband, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you so much, I want to have babies with you,” George blurts, causing your face to flame bright red.

“Okay, let’s talk about that later,” you awkwardly say, stepping out of the room.

You are quick to return after your scheduled surgery. You know the nurses rotations and know that they won’t check in for another hour.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” George grins as you walk in. “You look so sexy post-surgery,” he eyes you up.

“Really? I don’t feel like it,” you slide onto the bed beside him, careful to avoid hurting him. You relax in silence for a minute before you address the feeling eating at the pit of your stomach. “Please try not to crash again. I know it’s unavoidable, but the feeling I got when I saw your name and didn’t know how serious the crash was. It… I don’t think I can describe the panic,” you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and focusing on the sound of his heartbeat under you. The cool hospital air is a stark contrast to his warmth.

“I’m sorry, it’s the one part of racing I hate too,” George is unsure how to respond. He looks at the blank hospital wall, as if it’ll give him the answer. “I’ll always come home to you, and I have a badass surgeon to take care of me,” he laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can only do so much, like brain surgery? You are on your own,” you grin, happy to let the vibe change.

“You could do it, you can do anything,” George says, he always gets gushy when he’s tired.

“Okay, baby, you should get some sleep. I’ll go home and get you clothes. I will be back tomorrow morning to check on you,” you yawn, also needing sleep. George knows you can’t stay in the room too long, and he wouldn’t want you to stay up in an uncomfortable chair.

“I love you. Drive safe,” he mumbles, tiredness washing over him in waves. You fix his sheets and make sure he is okay before kissing him goodnight and leaving. It feels weird, to go home and not have him there. You burn the rest of your anxious energy by reaching out to some good physical therapists that you know to help with George’s recovery.

Under your watchful eye, he makes a recovery similar to Lance’s, even with you fussing the first few races post-injury. You framed one of his x-rays. George had to listen to you talk about how beautiful it was, you claimed it to be your best work. It allows for a good story when having friends over, and it reminds George to not let it happen again.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #george russell #george russell imagines #george russell x reader #george russell imagine

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witchywithwhiskey · 8 months ago

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12 and 17 Andy Barber💖

dreaming of a rainy spring morning

pairing: husband!andy barber x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping, consensual somnophilia, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise kink, very light bdsm, begging, teasing, pet names (wife, husband), sleepy cuddling, fluff, established relationship

word count: 1,200ish

a/n: i hope it's ok that i pulled from the smut prompt list instead of the fluff one—they were just more inspiring: “where are your manners?” + “beg for it.” i wanted to do something soft and i had the idea for this because it's rainy here today (and i probably should've done more rainy day fics since it rains so much in the spring 🫣). anyway, hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

The rain was a steady pitter patter against the windows, a soft morning light trickling through the glass and casting a cool, gray glow over the chilly bedroom. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of earth and water that filtered through the cracked window that had been left open overnight. Letting your eyes flutter closed again, you reached blindly across the bed until your fingertips brushed against the familiar warmth of your husband, Andy Barber.

Outside, the rain picked up its pace and a fierce wind ruffled the newly sprouted leaves of the spring trees, but inside your home, you were safe and warm—and you had other things to concern yourself with. Like squirming across the bed beneath the blankets so you could curl around your husband’s side, draping a leg over his thigh, feeling the hair on his tickling your skin.

With a soft sigh of relief, you settled in beside Andy, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and feeling your body warm at his closeness. You tried to let sleep reclaim you, but there was a restlessness in you—a low, simmering heat in your core that didn’t allow you to slip back into the comforting embrace of sleep. Instead, it smoldered until it refused to be ignored.

Sleepily, you shifted your body until you lay on top of your husband, your thighs on either side of his hips and your bare pussy pressing against his soft cock in his boxers. You’d worn one of Andy’s t-shirts to sleep, but that was all you had on, while he wore his boxers and a t-shirt of his own. You grumbled a little at that, wishing you were pressed skin to skin with him, but you didn’t want to make the effort to wake him and undress.

Instead, you rocked lazily against Andy’s bulge, feeling his cock twitch and come to life. A mischievous smile curled the edges of your lips as you felt him harden beneath you, his cock stiffening beneath your puffy folds. You slid your messy slit against him, your clit bumping against the tip in such a delicious way, you had to bite back a moan.

You still had your eyes closed, your cheek pillowed on Andy’s broad chest while you took your pleasure at a leisurely pace. But soon it wasn’t enough. With as little movement as possible, you inched up Andy’s body until the tip of his cock was prodding against your slick hole. You were wet enough that he slipped in easily and you pushed back, taking the head into your tight, warm cunt.

“Where are your manners?” Andy rumbled, his voice gruff with sleep and startling you a little. But there was a hint of teasing in his tone that made you smile, happy your husband was up to join you in your morning delight. “So needy, wife—you can’t even wait until your husband’s awake to start playing with his cock, huh?”

“Sorry, husband,” you purred, not feeling sorry at all as you arched your back and pushed your hips down further on Andy’s hard length. “You shouldn’t have given me permission to do what I want while you’re sleeping if you didn’t want to wake up with my needy pussy wrapped around your hard cock.”

Andy groaned, his hands lifting to your hips and, with a brutal shove, he impaled you the rest of the way on his length, stuffing you full with one move and wringing a sharp gasp from your lips. He grunted at the tight squeeze of your inner walls and pressed a kiss to your temple, his beard rasping against your skin and making you shiver.

“Love waking up to your perfect cunt on my cock, wife,” he rumbled, his hips thrusting up lazily while you moaned and rocked back onto his cock. “So soft and warm and wet for me—you feel perfect, wife, perfect.”

Your fingers sank into Andy’s thick hair and you guided his mouth to yours as best you could without opening your eyes, your lips finding one another in the dim light of the morning. Your husband kissed you as sweetly as he’d spoken his words of praise, filling you with every ounce of love in his heart while you poured your own back into him.

The soft clapping of your skin against his set a new rhythm in the room as the rain continued outside, but you were too wrapped up in your husband to notice anything beyond him. When your mouths finally parted, you gasped and moaned while he grunted and groaned beneath you, your bodies writhing together and seeking pleasure in each other.

“Andy,” you cried softly on a gasp, burying your face in his neck while your fingers curled in his hair, clinging on to him as ecstasy swirled through your body. “I’m gonna—please, husband,” you mumbled, knowing you didn’t make sense, and knowing it didn’t matter because Andy would know what you needed because of the way your pussy was fluttering around his thrusting length.

But it seemed your husband wanted to pay you back for waking him up early because his next words weren’t a soothing acknowledgement of your looming release. They were a dirty demand, rumbled right into your ear.

“Beg for it.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the command, the gruff sternness in Andy’s voice only making your body clench tight as you barreled toward your release. You were so close that all you could do was submit and give Andy what he wanted.

“Please, husband, please make me come,” you babbled, the words falling from your lips easily as you were driven by your need for satisfaction. “Wanna come all over your big cock, wanna feel you spill inside me—please, please, oh god, Andy, please!”

“Good girl,” he cooed in your ear, gripping your ass in his big hands, making you squeal as his fingertips dug into your plush softness. “Now, come,” he growled through gritted teeth, holding you still as he fucked up into you, bouncing your hips on his cock and grinding against your clit in just the right way to set you off.

You came with a scream that you muffled against Andy’s shoulder, your mouth open wide as you wailed in ecstasy, your whole body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Andy’s arms flexed against your sides, holding you pinned down on top of him, your pussy rhythmically squeezing his cock while he rutted up into you. It wasn’t long before he was groaning his own release, his cock twitching deep in your cunt as he came inside you.

When he was spent, Andy heaved a heavy sigh and sagged back into the bed, leaving you to stay sprawled across his chest, his softening cock still wedged in your pussy. Your chests were pressed so tightly together, you could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage, and you smiled, ducking your face to press a kiss right against his sternum.

“Go back to sleep, wife,” Andy muttered, running his hand down your spine to soothe you. His soft touch made your muscles melt, and sleep crowded into your consciousness.

“Yes, husband,” you mumbled, already halfway there.

Between the steady beating of Andy’s heart and the constant pitter patter of the rain against the windows, you were lulled back to sleep with a smile on your face. As you slept, you dreamt of your husband, and the love you felt when you were tucked safely into the warmth of his arms on a rainy spring morning.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #our-marvel-universe #established relationship

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solarmorrigan · 3 months ago

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Leaf Me Alone

For the @steddie-spooktober day 22 prompt: Leaves Rated: T | Words: 797 | CW: None | Tags: pre-relationship, Eddie Munson is a menace, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Steve has roughly one second of warning, coming in the form of a whoop of laughter, before the pile of leaves in front of him explodes.

“What the fuck–” He jumps back, rake held in two hands like a weapon, poised to strike at whatever threat has materialized in his front yard, only to find when the rain of dead leaves settles that it’s just– “Eddie!”

Heedless of the dangerous level of irritation in Steve’s tone, Eddie only grins back from where he lies in the middle of what had been a neatly raked pile of leaves.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t particularly sound it. “But have you seen the size of this pile? I couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the size of the pile, because I just raked it up. Dick.” Steve kicks one foot out, sending another flutter of leaves up in Eddie’s direction; Eddie bats them away with an unrepentant grin. “Do you even know how long this took me?”

“Oh, at least an hour, I’d imagine,” Eddie says airily, beginning to sweep his arms and legs out like he’s making a snow angel (a leaf angel? Whatever; it’s going to be the imprint of his dead body if he doesn’t get the hell up soon).

“Longer,” Steve snaps. “And you’re gonna help me rake it back up.”

Living on the edge of the woods has its pros and cons. On the one hand, the leaves are pretty in the fall; on the other hand, they’re an absolute pain in the ass to rake up once they drop off the trees. Steve tries not to sound like a spoiled rich kid these days, but why can’t his parents just hire someone to do this? Or, better yet, they could just let the leaves lie; Robin says that’s better for the environment, anyway.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, his grin fading into something more contrite. “I’m sorry. Help me up, and I’ll fix the pile, alright?”

Steve sighs, casting the rake aside so he can stand over Eddie and offer him a hand. He realizes a moment too late that he probably should have held onto the tool, however, because when Eddie takes his hand, he doesn’t use it to lever himself up off the ground, but to pull Steve down and tackle him onto the leaf pile.

Steve’s breath whuffs out of his chest as he lands on the carpet of leaves, and it gives Eddie just enough time to straddle him, pinning him down with a triumphant “ha-HA!”, before he grabs two fistfuls of leaves and starts raining them down over Steve.

“Oh, you’re so dead!” Steve declares, grabbing his own handful and tossing it at Eddie’s face, using the momentary distraction to hook a leg over one of Eddie’s and roll them over.

Eddie goes down laughing, and somehow, Steve finds himself joining in, grabbing more leaves to rain down over him.

“See how you like it, huh?” Steve manages on the breathless edge of actual giggles.

When his hands are empty, he pauses to see if Eddie’s had enough of this game, which is when Eddie’s hands snake out and shove up under Steve’s shirt.

“Wait – wait, no, that’s cheating!” Steve shrieks, but any other protest is lost to laughter as Eddie unerringly finds every ticklish spot Steve has.

Steve dives to the side in an attempt to escape and Eddie follows, grinning in a way that could only be described as maniacal.

They spend the next few minutes rolling around on Steve’s front lawn, completely destroying the pile of leaves as they wrestle through it and continue to throw handfuls of them at each other. Steve is pretty sure he’s got leaves in his pants, and there are so many caught in Eddie’s hair that he could pass for a tree.

Still, as Steve falls onto his back, trying to catch his breath, and Eddie leans over him, trying to do the same, there’s something captivating about him. His eyes are bright, his cheeks are flushed, and his smile has softened out into something like delight. As the late afternoon sunshine catches on the curls of his wild hair, Steve realizes – he’s beautiful.

“Steve,” Eddie says, voice gone low as he leans in.

“Yeah?” Steve answers, now feeling breathless in a different way.

They’re nearly chest to chest, and Eddie is so close that Steve can almost taste his smile.

“I need to tell you something.”

Steve makes a questioning sound, eyes flicking between Eddie’s eyes and his lips.

Eddie leans an inch closer, eyes lidded as he murmurs, “I think I swallowed a leaf.”

With a huff, Steve plants his hand on Eddie’s face and shoves him away. Eddie goes, laughing again.

Unfortunately, it’s still a beautiful sound.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie-spooktober #local jock in love with gremlin more at eleven #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

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Noisy Nights

SUMMARY: Tyler has been gone for weeks, following storms across the Midwest. When he finally returns home to his wife, the chemistry between them is undeniable. But with their best friend Boone unexpectedly staying the night, they'll have to keep their passion under wraps or risk being heard. As the night unfolds, the intensity of their reunion grows, testing their ability to stay quiet when every touch and whisper pushes them closer to the edge.

A/N: Thank you to the person who send me the DM about this request! This one was so fun to write! I really hope you like it!

PROMPT: "Staying quiet never was your strong suit, was it?"

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. Unprotected sex, Oral Female Receiving, P in V sex.

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the old farmhouse, its light filtering through the trees as you stood on the wraparound porch, watching the gravel road that wound its way up to your front yard. It had been three long weeks since Tyler left for what was meant to be a five-day chase on the Oklahoma-Kansas border.

But mother nature had her own ideas. One storm led to another, each one calling him further away. You understood–you always did. The storms had a pull on him that you’d long accepted was part of who he was. But after nearly a month, you were ready to have him back home.

Just as the sun dipped below the trees, you finally heard the familiar rumble of his truck. You stepped down off the porch, watching as he rolled up the drive, your heart quickening at the sight. Standing there in your sundress, the light breeze lifted the hem, just enough to make you shiver with anticipation.

The truck came to a stop, and you could see him through the windshield, his face breaking into a tired, relieved smile. The second his Ariat boots hit the dirt, you were already running. Gravel crunched under your feet as you made your way to him, and by the time you reached him, he had his arms wide open, ready to catch you.

When you collided with him, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you right off the ground, holding you tight. You buried your face into his shoulder, breathing him in–the scent of rain, dust, and something unmistakably Tyler. He held you close, his hands pressed against your back, and his face nestled into the curve of your neck.

“Missed you,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, roughened by days on the road and nights spent under open skies.

“I missed you more than I could say,” you whispered back, your fingers finding their way into his messy, damp hair still wet from the rain, your touch lingering just a little longer than usual. Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face.

“Nothing like coming home to you, darlin’,” he said softly, his thumb gently tracing your cheek. His gaze held yours, and for a moment, the pull of the storms, the long roads, the endless miles–none of it mattered. He was here. He was home.

As you stayed wrapped in Tyler’s embrace, he leaned down, his eyes searching yours before he began to close the distance between you, his lips brushing just above your own. It was a kiss he’d been wanting to give you since he left, the kind that lingered in his mind during the long nights on the road.

But just as you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, a loud, familiar honk echoed from down the driveway, breaking the moment. You both turned, and there it was–Boone’s beat-up old gray van lumbering up the gravel road, rattling with each bump.

Tyler let out a soft sigh, a sheepish grin spreading across his own face. He cast you a guilty look as Boone leaned out the window, giving a cheerful wave in your direction.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you looked back up at Tyler. “Let me guess–Boone’s crashing here tonight?” You asked, your tone half-resigned, half-amused.

Tyler nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he was getting pretty tired, and I didn’t want him driving another hour and fifteen back to his place. Figured he’d be safer here for the night.”

You smiled, already used to the unplanned sleepovers with your husband’s best friend after a chase. You’d long since accepted that Boone came with the package, his loyalty to Tyler as steadfast as the storms they chased together.

Reaching up, you gave Tyler a quick kiss. “I’ll go get the guest room ready,” you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you turned to head inside.

As you made your way up the steps and into the house, you glanced back one last time, watching as Boone pulled his van to a stop and hopped out, a broad grin lighting up his face. Tyler threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders, giving him a tired but grateful smile. They both looked exhausted, faces lined with the grit and weariness of the chase, but there was a familiar, easy camaraderie between them that filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging. This was home–storm chases, unplanned guests, and all.

You finished setting up the guest room, smoothing the last pillow with a satisfied sigh, then made your way to the kitchen. You knew both Tyler and Boone would be hungry after their long drive, so you started gathering ingredients, setting up a simple but hearty meal for the three of you. Before long, you hear their voices and footsteps coming in from the hallway.

Boone was the first to enter the kitchen, and he wasted no time pulling you into one of his signature bone-crushing hugs, lifting you a little off the ground as he did. You laughed, patting his shoulder as he set you down, his wide grin lighting up his tired face.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” Boone said, his voice warm and genuine.

You waved him off with a smile. “You know you’re always welcome, Boone. This is as much your home as it is ours.”

Tyler stood leaning against the door frame, watching the two of you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with a mixture of warmth and contentment. You met his gaze, feeling a little flutter in your chest at the sight of him finally home.

Turning your attention back to the both of them, you raised an eyebrow. “Now, both of you–go get cleaned up before dinner,” you said, putting a little mock authority into your tone. You glanced over at Tyler, adding, “And maybe start a load of laundry while you’re at it?”

He chuckled, giving you an affectionate look as he straightened up. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied with a little smirk, his drawl making the words linger in the air just a second longer.

You shook your head, unable to hold back a grin as they both headed out, playfully shoving each other on their way down the hall. As you listened to their banter echo through the house, you felt a deep sense of contentment. This was your life–the two of them laughing, storm-chasing stories filling the house, and the simple, comforting rhythm of having them both here.

You turned back to the stove, adding a pinch more seasoning to the pot, your heart swelling with gratitude for this beautiful, chaotic, wonderfully imperfect life you’d built together.

Dinner was filled with laughter and stories, the kind of easy conversation that felt like second nature whenever Boone was around. He launched into tales from the latest chase–dodging hail the size of baseballs, back roads turned rivers, and one storm that had them racing to outrun a flash flood.

You listened with wide eyes, sharing glances with Tyler, who filled in the parts Boone missed or skipped, adding his own dry humor to the mix.

When you’d finally finished, Boone stretched his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Nothing like a home-cooked meal. You’re the best,” he said, sending you a grateful grin.

“Well, in that case,” Tyler said, pushing his chair back and standing up, “You can help me clean up since the missus did all the cooking.”

Boone groaned, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly got to his feet. “Alright, alright.” He gave you a playful, mock glare. “If he’s only making me help to impress you, just say the word and I’ll put my foot down.”

You chuckled, watching them banter as they cleared the dishes, your heart warming at the scene. It was these little moments–the laughter, the sense of family–that made this place feel like home.

Once everything was clean and put away the three of you settled into the living room, each finding a comfortable spot to unwind. You curled up next to Tyler on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close as you leaned your head against his chest. Boone sprawled out on the love seat across from you, his feet kicked up, looking like he could fall asleep right there.

For awhile, you all just sat in a comfortable silence, the soft murmur of the evening settling around you. Every now and then, Tyler’s hand traced gentle circles on your shoulder, his touch soothing and familiar. Boone’s eyes dropped as he stifled a yawn, and you felt your own eyelids growing heavy.

Tyler gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “What do you say we call it a night?” he murmured, his voice warm and drowsy.

You nodded, giving Boone a teasing smile. “Guest room’s ready for you already.”

Boone nodded, already halfway to sleep himself. “Thanks again, you two,” he mumbled, eyes barely open as he pushed himself up from the love seat.

You and Tyler stood up, and as he slid his hand into yours, you felt that familiar sense of peace wash over you. Together, you made your way to your bedroom, a content smile playing on your lips.

As you and Tyler made your way into the bedroom, he reached behind him, and you heard the quiet click of the door lock turning. You raised an eyebrow, giving him a curious look that was met with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What’s with the lock?” you whispered, half-amused, half-intrigued.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “I don’t want any interruptions.” And with that, his lips found yours, warm and familiar, as his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer.

You felt your pulse quicken as you melted into his kiss, but after a moment, you gently pulled back, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “What exactly do you think Boone’s going to interrupt?”

Tyler’s grin was equal parts playful and filled with that telltale spark. He didn’t even need to say it; the look in his eyes was answer enough. After three weeks on the road, you knew what was on his mind. His gaze lingered on yours, his fingers tracing a slow, familiar path along your back.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice low and filled with a hint of a challenge, “I haven’t seen my wife in three weeks. I figured I’d make up for lost time… unless you have any objections?”

You shook your head, a grin spreading across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“No objections here,” you whispered, your heart racing as he leaned down, capturing your lips again in a kiss that held all the longing and love that had built up during his time away.

Tyler’s hands found your waist as he lifted you up, guiding you back onto the bed, his body settling over yours as he leaned down, trailing a line of warm kisses along your jaw. His lips moved slowly, lingering, his breath hot against your skin as he made his way down to the curve of your neck. You felt him pause, then felt the light graze of his teeth against your pulse point, followed by a gentle bite that sent a shiver racing through you. He didn’t stop there—his mouth lingered, and then you felt the heat of his lips as he began to suck, each movement drawing out a soft moan that escaped before you could stop it.

Tyler grinned against your skin, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, amusement and warmth in his gaze.

“Now, darlin’, I’m gonna need you to be quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Or I might have to slow down, and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

A needy whine escaped your lips, and you could feel his grin widen as he leaned in, his mouth finding yours again as he deepened the kiss, his hands beginning to roam, each touch unhurried but filled with purpose.

Tyler’s mouth traveled down the curve of your neck, each kiss deliberate, savoring, as his hands moved along your sides, lingering in ways he knew would drive you crazy. You arched into him, but just as you were about to lose yourself completely, he paused, his lips hovering near your ear, a mischievous smile in his voice.

“Think you can keep quiet, sweetheart?” he murmured, his tone playful but laced with that challenge. “Because if you don’t, I might have to stop.” He lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and desire.

You narrowed your eyes at him, giving him a defiant look. The idea of him stopping now, after waiting so long to have him this close, was unthinkable, and he knew it.

“Tyler,” you warned, a quiet plea slipping into your voice, but he just chuckled softly, leaning in to press a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I mean it,” he teased, his hands sliding lower, skimming your skin with agonizing patience. “One sound too loud, and that’s it.”

A breathy whine escaped your lips, and he gave you a playful look, bringing his lips to your neck again, grazing your skin just hard enough to send a shiver through you. His mouth traveled downward, his touch achingly familiar and yet new all over again, a reminder of how deeply he knew every part of you. Every place he touched, every kiss he pressed, was calculated to tease, to push you closer to the edge while keeping you grounded.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, trying to pull him closer, to get more, but he resisted, his movements slow, torturous, his grin widening as he felt you tense beneath him, fighting to stay quiet. It was almost too much, the way he knew exactly where to touch, exactly what you loved, and every second of it made it harder not to break his rule. And he knew it.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur as he continued, his words as much a promise as a praise.

Tyler’s hands moved down, his fingers finding the hem of your sundress. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed the fabric up, revealing more of your skin as he went, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you beneath him. A warm smile curved across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss just above your hip.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection. “All I could think about while I was gone… was this. Being right here.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly pulled them down, a reverence in his touch as he discarded them.

He settled himself between your legs, his hands warm on your thighs as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing your skin and sending a thrill through you.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his words trailing down your skin, each syllable a reminder of how long he’d been waiting for this.

Then, his mouth finally met your core, a single, slow stroke of his tongue that pulled a soft, breathless moan from you. You quickly brought your hand to your mouth, fighting to keep quiet, but the intensity of his touch made it almost impossible. Tyler grinned against you, clearly pleased with the reaction he was drawing out, his voice a husky murmur against your skin.

“Three weeks without my touch, huh?” he teased softly, his tone low and teasing as he continued his slow, tantalizing movements. “Think you can stay quiet, or is that going to be too much of a challenge?”

You managed a small nod, but Tyler’s knowing look said he wasn’t convinced. And as his mouth worked against you with an achingly steady rhythm, he glanced up, his voice a gentle, breathless whisper.

“Tell me… did you touch yourself like this while I was gone?” His words sent another wave of heat through you, and you could barely meet his gaze as you shook your head.

“I thought about it,” you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. “But I knew it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing compares to you.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his words almost reverent as he continued, making sure you felt every second of his touch, each one more intense than the last.

Tyler’s movements grew more intense as he expertly brought you closer, his mouth working with such precision and care, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. The pressure inside you built, the tension curling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t hold it anymore. Your body trembled beneath him, and your legs began to shake, an overwhelming wave of pleasure surging through you.

As you fought to keep quiet, Tyler’s lips found yours, his kiss deep and urgent, pulling the sounds from your throat as you finally lost control. The orgasm rippled through you, intense and overwhelming, and Tyler kissed you even harder, his mouth a soothing balm against the cries you couldn’t help but let out.

His hands gripped your hips to steady you as the waves of pleasure washed over you, his kiss keeping your moans muffled as your body shook in his arms. When the tremors began to subside, Tyler didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he stayed close, his lips still pressed to yours, as if he wanted to share that moment with you, to hold you in it just a little longer.

You could barely catch your breath, your chest heaving as you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting his. Tyler’s face was flushed, his own breath ragged, a satisfied grin playing at the corners of his lips.

“That was… amazing,” you whispered, still trying to steady your breath, the lingering heat of your orgasm still pulsing through you. Tyler’s grin widened, and he kissed you again, soft and tender this time, his hand gently brushing through your hair as he pulled back slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about that for weeks,” he muttered, his voice low and full of warmth as he settled beside you, pulling you into his arms. “And now I’m not letting you go.”

You smiled against his chest, the comforting weight of him beside you soothing, but you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Tyler’s hands slowly started to undress himself, the familiar pull of his shirt over his head, the slow unbuckling of his belt, all of it a teasing promise of what was to come. His eyes never left yours as he undid each button, each motion deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. You watched him, feeling the heat rise within you once more at the sight of his strong, familiar form, the taut muscles of his chest and arms, the rough edges of his hands that always seemed to know exactly how to touch you.

Once he was fully undressed, Tyler crawled onto the bed, his movements slow and purposeful. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the sweetness of you as he took his time, letting the moment stretch between you before he pulled away.

He settled back against the pillows, his gaze intense and hungry, his breath coming in soft, controlled bursts. “Tonight, I want to watch you,” he said, his voice hushed with desire. “I want to watch you ride me.”

A grin spread across your face, a mix of excitement and confidence filling you. You’d missed this, missed the connection between you, the way Tyler made you feel powerful and wanted all at once. Without a word, you swung your leg over him, positioning yourself above him as you straddled him, your body hovering just above his. Tyler’s eyes never left yours, watching the way your body shifted, the way you controlled the movement.

You could feel the heat of him beneath you, the undeniable tension building between you. With a slow, teasing motion, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling the stretch, the way he filled you, and Tyler groaned beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets.

The slow rhythm of your movements began, your hips rocking against him as you took the lead, the feel of his body beneath yours setting you both on fire. Tyler’s hands found your waist, guiding you, his eyes dark and full of admiration as he watched you. The room filled with the sound of your breath, the soft slick of skin against skin, and the rhythmic sounds of your bodies moving together.

Tyler’s voice broke through the air, low and gravelly, “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his hands trailing up your sides, pulling you closer to him as the pace quickened.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his, the intensity of your movements growing, the feeling of him filling you driving you to the edge. Every moment, every touch felt electric, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Your breath was ragged, your body moving with a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. You leaned down slightly, your lips brushing against Tyler’s ear as you whispered, “I’m close…”

The words were all it took. Tyler’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you with a new intensity, his movements matching yours in perfect harmony. The tension in the air between you both built to a peak, the connection between you undeniable.

And then it hit, both of you, at the same time. The world seemed to freeze for a moment as you both reached the height of your pleasure. You clung to each other, your body trembling as waves of sensation crashed over you. Tyler’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you collapsed, your head resting gently against his chest.

Your breathing slowed, the rapid rise and fall of your chest easing as you melted into him. His hands stroked your back tenderly, comforting you as the last remnants of the high faded. The only sound now was the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear and his own soft, steadying breath.

Tyler’s voice was a murmur above you, a low sound of contentment. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You smiled against his skin, feeling his warmth surrounding you, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly right.

The next morning, you and Tyler made your way downstairs, the soft creak of the stairs underfoot a comforting sound in the quiet of the house. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, and you could already feel the warmth of the day starting to seep into the home.

As you passed the living room, your eyes caught a familiar sight—Boone, curled up on the couch, the blankets half off and a pillow clutched to his chest. You stopped in your tracks, both you and Tyler exchanging a puzzled glance.

“Is that Boone?” you whispered, unsure of what to make of the scene.

“Guess so,” Tyler murmured back, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took a few steps closer to his best friend.

You both approached quietly, but the rustling of your footsteps woke Boone. He blinked, slowly coming to his senses as he looked up at the two of you. A lazy grin appeared on his face when he saw the confusion written on yours.

“What are you doing down here?” Tyler asked, crossing his arms over his chest, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Boone stretched his arms out, yawning exaggeratedly, before answering, “Couldn’t sleep with all the... noises coming from your room last night,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, the blood rushing to your face as embarrassment flushed through you. Tyler, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased with himself, his grin widening into a proud smirk.

You kept walking toward the kitchen, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face, but Boone’s words echoed in your mind.

Once you were out of earshot and in the quiet safety of the kitchen, you muttered, still trying to steady your breath. “I can’t believe Boone heard us last night.”

Tyler let out a low chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and giving you that smug look you knew all too well. “Staying quiet never was your strong suit, was it?”

You shot him an exasperated look, the blush on your cheeks still burning. “You didn’t exactly help with that, you know.”

Tyler just shrugged, his grin never fading as he reached for the coffee pot. “I’ve got no problem with it,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying your discomfort far more than he should.

You sighed and tried to hide your face in your hands for a moment, still feeling the heat creeping up your neck. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit amused by the whole situation. This was just another funny story to add to the list of things that made life with Tyler—and Boone—so unexpectedly entertaining.

Tyler must have noticed the way you were still flushed, so he stepped toward you, his grin softening into something more affectionate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, comforting hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing despite the amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Boone’s not gonna care.”

You melted into him, taking in the comfort of his embrace, your embarrassment slowly fading away. “I still can’t believe it,” you muttered into his chest, feeling safe in his arms.

Tyler chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “I love that I can still make you blush,” he teased, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You couldn’t help but smile, the closeness of the moment taking the sting out of your earlier discomfort. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“But you love me anyway,” he grinned, giving you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you toward the kitchen counter.

You shook your head, laughing softly, and the rest of the morning seemed a little lighter, your embarrassment forgotten in the warmth of Tyler’s presence.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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ylangelegy · 3 months ago

Text

⋆.˚ caught in the rain ♡︎ svt.

── .✦ as the unexpected downpour falls heavy on the roof of the waiting shed, you realize a horrific truth: you've forgotten your umbrella.

"Seriously?" he huffs, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. When he sees that you are, in fact, not joking, he can only shake his head with disbelief.

He goes to rummage through his bag, grumbling underneath his breath as he goes along. You catch only bits and pieces of his mumbles, like the words unprepared and dummy. You can't really be offended when you know that he doesn't mean it. Not really.

The umbrella that he pulls out is compact, obviously meant for one person. He looks mildly annoyed as he unsheathes it from its container and steps out ahead of you. "Come on, then," he sighs. "Before it gets worse."

You move in to his left, keeping a negligible distance to appease him. As the two of you begin your careful trudge through the rain, you can't help but try to explain yourself, to apologize for being an inconvenience. He waves his free hand dismissively, but you can feel his exasperation rolling off of him in waves. Maybe you choose to walk in silence. Maybe you try to fill the moment with chatter.

Either way, his right shoulder gets drenched as he quietly makes sure that you have more of the umbrella.

♯ JEONGHAN, JIHOON, JUN, WONWOO.

A soft kind of laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with mirth. "You should really make it a habit to check the day's weather," he says, but his chiding is softened by the fond way that he's looking at you.

He already has his umbrella out. He'd been fiddling with it, earlier, when you claimed he was being paranoid over the grey clouds overhead. There's a small amount of smugness to his smile— one that seems to wordlessly communicate I told you so.

Despite that, he's already making space for you underneath his umbrella. When you step in to his space— taking care to not encroach too much— he shoots you a glance and laughs again. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly," he teases.

Before you can question him, he's looping his free arm over your shoulders. He tugs at you gently until you're slotted more comfortably in to his side. This is the part where he's supposed to let go, he knows.

But he decides that he can be just a little bit selfish as he keeps his arm where it is. "Let's go?" he prompts, his eyes shining as he waits for your cue.

♯ JOSHUA, MINGHAO, SEOKMIN.

"Really? That sucks."

He sounds only mildly sympathetic to your plight. If anything, he looks more thoughtful. Like he's trying to do mental inventory of his own things. Without another word, he swings his bag over to his front so he can dig through it.

His fingers catch on his umbrella, buried underneath a pile of his other things. He should pull it out and offer to share with you. That was The Right Thing™ to do, wasn't it?

Except— he doesn't really want that.

He feigns like he's looking long and hard. "I don't think I have one, either," he fibs, shoving the umbrella even deeper in to his backpack. He pulls out all the stops— a slight frown, a heavy sigh. He tries very, very hard to sound apologetic as he tells you, "Guess we'll have to wait it out."

A couple minutes more with you; hours, if it so happens? Now, that's what he wants.

♯ CHAN, SEUNGCHEOL, VERNON.

He looks like he's been struck with the same realization as well. "Oh, shit," he groans. From that alone, you know that he hadn't expected this, either.

Still, he scrabbles through his bag, hoping that his umbrella might be something he had still managed to grab. He spends way too long searching before you amusedly ask any luck? and he can only shake his head, looking slightly off-put.

"It didn't look like it was going to rain when I left the house," he complains, mostly to himself. Once he's given up on his futile search, he casts his gaze skyward.

The downpour is relentless. He doesn't know what compels him to say, "I think we can probably make a run for it."

The look on your face does nothing to discourage him; your sounds of protests fall on deaf ears. The longer he imagines it, the more feasible it sounds. And so, without warning— he steps out from underneath the shed, his hands braced over his eyes.

He immediately concedes that it's a bad idea. But when he looks back at you, his smile widens. How could anything involving you be a bad idea?

"We don't have all day," he calls out over the downpour. When he extends one of his hands to you— well, you'd be damned not to take it.

♯ MINGYU, SEUNGKWAN, SOONYOUNG.

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hiramaris · 8 months ago

Note

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have a yoga class to attend to?"

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew farmer #stardew haley #stardew emily #kiss it off me

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revasserium · 11 months ago

Note

hello there !! I love reading your l&ds posts and I would like to request from prompt 1, stolen kisses + xavier please? thank you <3

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

49. stolen kisses

xavier; 1,009 words; fluff, gn!reader, no "y/n", xavier being cheeky

summary: a few stolen kisses

a/n: exactly what it says on the label; the lightest of spoilers for his veiled whispers card, but the literal lightest.

001

In the forest, on the edge of the battlefield, with the remnants of smoke still filling the air; he tastes of sweat and sweetness, reassurance and regret — you press your palm to his chest and push slightly, gasping for breath as he pulls away.

“X-Xavier?”

He hums, licking his lips, his eyes wide and warm as he grins, reaching up to touch his mouth experimentally, as if uncertain of what he’d just done.

“Sorry — I just… suddenly wanted to…”

You blush, leaning in for another soft peck, shaking your head.

“It’s okay… I don’t mind.”

You squeak as he tugs you towards him, an arm now tight around your waist.

“Good… because I actually think I quite like it.”

002

On your couch the night after it rains, and you’re not drunk anymore but there’s something so steady and solid in the way he presses his lips to yours that somehow, when he pulls away, you wonder if the world is still spinning. Or maybe it’s just the way he makes you feel, how he twists your stomach and tangles in your laughter — how he leans in to press his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“Feeling better?”

You nod, heat kissing up your spine as one of his hands drops to your waist to pull you closer.

“When I said you were being a little distant…” your words trail off as he lifts your chin with a finger, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to explain… I get it. And… I’ll do better,” he grins, leaning in again, pausing before his lips meet yours.

“Starting right now…” he says, and you can taste the promise, honey-sweet, right on the tip of his tongue.

003

On the pier, beneath the sparkling lights of the Linkon Tower, his lips warm against your cheek as he pulls you in. And by the time you turn to look at him with wide eyes, he’s turning back to the tower, pointing at the top.

“Isn’t it pretty?” he asks.

You smile, blushing as you lean up onto your tip toes and kiss his cheek as well.

“The prettiest,” you say, landing back on your feet.

He turns to face you again, something warm and unreadable in his eyes — they’re so blue, and up close, you start to realize that they’re a celestial phenomenon. They are the hearts and dreams of ancient stars, cast through the lens of a telescope pointed toward the deepest, darkest corners of space. They are endless in a way that only eyes can be. In them, you find galaxies; in them, you find yourself.

“Yeah… I think you are,” he says, unabashed as he bends down for a proper kiss, one that is less breath and more wanting, less search and more belonging. When he pulls back, you purse your lips and glance back at the tower.

“We missed the whole light show.”

Xavier shakes his head, “We got something better instead, didn’t we?”

004

When he finally comes home, bruises littering his torso like footprints in the snow. Your back pressed against the bedroom door, his fingers digging into the meat of your hips.

“X-Xavier?”

“I was —” his eyes are dark, his chest heaving as he swallows and tears his eyes away. His voice is harsh when he finally catches his breath, “There was a moment when… I thought —” he lets his head fall forward onto your shoulder, his grip on you slackening.

You reach up to wrap your arms around you, murmuring in his ear.

“I’m here… it’s alright…”

His arms snake around you, wrapping you in a tight embrace as he takes a deep breath, and then another. Faintly, you marvel to yourself that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, so much faster than its usual steady, almost terrifyingly slow rhythm. But now…

“I’m sorry… was I too harsh?” Xavier pulls back, his gaze softening as he looks you over.

You laugh, shaking your head, “No — and you’re the one who just got back from a difficult mission — c’mon, let me look at these injuries.”

You push him back onto the bed till he’s sitting, tugging open his shirt even as heat creeps up your cheeks. You try to focus on tending to his injuries, the smattering of cuts that lace his right arm, the dark bruise blossoming along his ribs. He holds still and quiet for most of it, but when you finish, he catches your hand as you try to reach for the first aid kit, spread open on the bed next to him.

Slowly, he tugs you up to press a kiss to the tender skin just inside of your wrist. Shivers skitter through you, setting your body ablaze with want as he looks down at you, kneeling before him. A hand comes up to cup your cheek, and then he’s pulling you forward again, falling back till you’re straddling his hips, his hair spread out beneath him like a halo of pure starlight.

“I’m fine,” he says, pressing your palm to his chest. And there, you can feel his heartbeat slowly steadying out to its usual rhythm. Ba-dump… ba-dump… ba-dump…

“I know,” you say, leaning forward to cage him in with your arms, one on either side of his face. He blinks up at you, his palms settling on your thighs as he traces abstract patterns into your skin.

“Good… then you don’t have to be so careful with me.”

“Was I?” you feel a thrill of desire tingle up your spine as he lets his hands wander up your legs to the hem of your nightshirt, “I didn’t notice.”

Xavier’s smile is sweet and indulgent as he pulls you down for another kiss, and then another —

“I notice everything you do… because I’ll always notice. Because… it’s you.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace headcanons #x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace drabbles #love and deepspace fic #l&ds #love and deepspace x you #xavier x reader #xavier headcanons #xavier scenarios #lads drabbles #lads x reader #xavier x you #xavier x y/n #xavier drabbles #xavier fic #xavier love and deepspace #floofy floof floof

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eyesthatroll · 10 months ago

Text

gatorade kisses

pairing; matthew rempe x fem!reader

warning(s); highkey cringe… (don’t say i didn’t warn you), fluff, kissing, NOT edited.

word count; 0.95k

authors note; i fear i have become endeared to ny’s baby goon . don’t crucify me

"Don't be mad at me." Your eyes lift from the pages of your book, and you nudge your glasses to rest at the peak of your head, casting a discerning gaze over him. The remnants of game day attire have been replaced by sweatpants and a hoodie, and his once-styled hair now appears tousled, damp from the rain that drizzled outside. Positioned just before the door, his Air Forces firmly planted on the welcome mat, he awaits your reaction.

"Did you not receive my text, Matthew?" Your tongue prods the inside of your cheek, as you release a heavy sigh. Returning your attention to the book, you gracefully lower your glasses back down to your nose. Amidst the audible shuffling, possibly the thud of shoes meeting the floor, your eyes stay fixed on the pages before you. However, your concentration wavers, and you find yourself not truly absorbed in the text anymore, your eyes just dancing over the Sans Serif.

You feel a dip in the leather beside you, and before you can voice your protest, your book is swiftly snatched from your hands and deposited on the end table to Matt's left. "I was reading that," you huff, "and I explicitly told you not to come over."

"I take it you saw the game." He concludes.

"I didn't need to; it was all over Twitter." Meeting his deep brown eyes, bruised and tarnished black from countless hits to the face, you can sense the pain he's concealing. A longing to reach out and comfort him tugs at you, but the sight becomes unbearable, prompting a cringe and a quick turn away.

He was such a beautiful boy, and you hated seeing him banged up like this.

His hand gently presses into your thigh, a subtle squeeze accompanying his plea, "Will you please look at me? I'm sorry."

Tears pool at your waterline, and you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, striving to keep them at bay. Slowly, you turn your head back to him. "I don't want you to get hurt," your voice leaves your lips in a shaky breath.

"Hey," he begins, his hand gently grasping your arm, tugging you towards him until you're straddling his waist. "Hey," he repeats. His thumbs reach up, delicately wiping away the tears that have trickled down your cheeks. "I'm okay."

"You look like you're in so much pain." Your hand gently rises to caress his cheek, mindful of the bruised skin.

"I'm not." He attempts to reassure you, but the waiver in his voice betrays his words.

"Please don't lie to me." You murmur, a desperate plead to the boy in front of you.

He exhales a deep sigh, diverting his attention momentarily before speaking, "It only hurts a little bit."

Seeking his touch, you lean into his embrace, your head finding the crook of his neck as salty tears cascade freely, quietly. His arms envelop you, hands gently rubbing your back in an attempt to provide comfort.

After God knows how long, the storm within you subsides, and your sole focus shifts to the rhythmic cadence of his breathing, the reassuring sensation of his chest rising and falling against your own.

“It won’t always be like this,” he says, “I promise.”

Drawing back from him, you release a deep breath. "Listen, I don't mean to get emotional," you start, a strained laugh escaping your lips as you wipe your eyes with your palms. He joins in, sharing a laugh that mirrors your own.

“I just—if you tell me you know what you’re doing, or that you have people looking out for you, I’ll try not to worry so much.”

His head tilts ever so slightly, and his fingers extend, delicately tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You surrender to the warmth of his touch, and his hand lingers at your cheek, caressing gently. "The coaching staff is great, and so are the guys."

“I don’t want you being the league’s punching bag.”

“I can handle myself.” He defends.

“Matthew.” You huff out.

He sighs, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Do you trust me?”

Your gaze softens. “Course’ I do”

“Trust me, then.”

Your teeth graze your bottom lip, nibbling softly as you mull over his words. After a moment of contemplation, you respond with a simple, "Okay."

He quirks a brow. “Okay?”

“Yes Matty, I’m trusting you to not be a dumbass.”

A snort escapes his lips, morphing into a full-bellied laugh—a sound you find utterly captivating. The reading timer you set on your phone chimes from the other side of the couch, an unwelcome reminder of the outside world and the passage of time.

“It’s late.” You comment, “You tired?”

He nods. “A bit.”

"Let’s head to bed, hm?" You attempt to shift away, but his large hands firmly grasp your waist, keeping you in place.

"Wait," he groans, drawing you closer to him.

"What?" you ask, a questioning smile playing on your lips.

“I believe you have something for me?”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your mind retracing the events of the day in an attempt to recall if you've forgotten anything. It's only when his lips form a pout that you roll your eyes at the boy in front of you, but lean in nonetheless.

His lips meet yours softly, moving with a gentle rhythm. His hands migrate from your waist to your bum, delivering a cheeky squeeze that elicits a gasp from you, granting him complete access to your mouth. The scruff of his facial hair lightly scratches against the area above your top lip, and you pull away to catch your breath, Matt doing the same. "You taste like Gatorade."

#matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matthew rempe imagine #matt rempe fluff #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe x you #matt rempe fic #matt rempe fanfiction

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drabblesandsnippets · 5 months ago

Text

Sunshine - Part 5

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 9

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: FREE WEEK | [Optional Prompts: “W” - Wax Play, Watersports, WAM (Wet & Messy), Weapon Play] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (4k) Series Masterlist Bucky’s confession tests the bond of their relationship.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and body image (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Mention of weed. Internal dialogue. Use of the word fat (as a descriptor).

---------------------------

Bucky never had any intention of blurting out his feelings like this. Even as all the fragments of his plans went to the wayside, the last thing he wanted to do was spring this on her. As easy as it’d be to blame it on the weed, it doesn’t matter either way. The truth is out there now and the only thing he can do is keep moving forward, his soft smile never wavering.

A range of emotions play across Sunshine’s face. The initial look of surprise changing to one that gives him immediate hope for their future, their eyes locked in an understanding, a silent conversation threatening to bloom. And then it’s gone in an instant, replaced by hurt and betrayal, the emotion welling up in her eyes.

“That’s not funny.”

Her words are like a punch to his gut and before Bucky can process what’s happening, Sunshine’s climbing off the couch, putting distance between them. She doesn’t believe him.

“Sunshine.” Bucky remains on the couch, his feet flat on the floor, toes digging into the carpet as he keeps a tight grip on his knees, forcing himself to remain calm. As much as it pains him, he can see this for what it is. A way for her to protect herself. “You know me. You know who I am. This isn’t a joke.”

Silence consumes them, the soft dripping of rain and the slight hum of the battery-powered fan the only sound piercing his ears. He feels frozen in place, the dim glow of the candles providing enough light for Bucky to take in her tense shoulders, her head cast up to the ceiling.

It’s not until she lets out a heavy sigh that she finally turns around, the sadness on her face doing nothing to ease the ache inside of him to fix this. Unshed tears breaking his heart and it takes everything in Bucky not to stand up and go to her while he waits for her to say something. Anything.

After Sunshine visibly swallows, her response comes, stuttering as she tries to explain this away. “I wasn’t… I didn’t tell you all that to… I don’t want your pity.”

With a furrowed brow and a slow steadying breath, Bucky shakes his head at her, taking a second to quiet the urge to become defensive. In a gentle voice, he tells her, “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Her question is immediate, desperate to understand.

This is going all wrong, but Bucky’s unable to stop himself from giving her an expectant look as he exhales, “Sunshine.” She knows what this is. If she’s too scared to meet him halfway though, the only thing he can do is spell it out. “This is me telling you that I have feelings for you. That I want to date you.”

She cuts in before he can keep going, interrupting him with a shake of her head, “Please don’t do that. You don’t need to… to convince me that I’m dateable. I don’t-.”

He can’t stand it anymore.

The weed no longer enough to keep the frustration from building, he finally rises to his feet, the coffee table separating them as he holds his hands up in surrender, whispering, “Stop.” He doesn’t know if she’s being obstinately obtuse, but he can’t keep going around in circles. “That’s not why I’m telling you. I’m telling you because I want to be with you. I’m telling you because I think you might feel the same way.”

Sunshine’s a deer caught in headlights, staring wide-eyed, open-mouthed, her rapid breaths giving him concern. Either she still doesn’t believe him, or he misread this.

“If I got the signals wrong, please tell me,” he urges, rooted in his spot, his ankles digging into the edge of the couch to steady himself. “I promise I won’t be upset, and I’ll never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I’ll even help you find a new roommate if that’s what you need. I just…” He lets out a soft sigh, emotion threatening to crack his resolve at the thought of causing her any more pain, “I didn’t want you to keep thinking there wasn’t anything between us.”

She stands there for the longest time, her eyes wandering around the room, occasionally settling on him before moving away, unable to hold his gaze. He has no idea what she’s thinking, and he’s at a loss as to what to do, other than stand there, his arms at his sides, refusing to look away, not giving her a chance to doubt what he’s telling her.

The soft clearing of her throat makes his breath catch, trying not to get his hopes up as their eyes connect again. He’ll accept whatever she says, even if it breaks his heart.

She starts and pauses several times, long enough for Bucky to know what’s about to come, giving him time to steel himself. “I… It’s… We…” Emotion threatens to overwhelm her again and he watches as she fights through it, forcing the words out, “We’re friends, Bucky.”

“Okay.” He tells her, quickly nodding his head, taking the opportunity to return to his seat on the couch, his legs threatening to give out on him. This isn’t at all what he expected tonight, but he intends to keep his promise. “We’re friends, Sunshine. That’s more than enough for me.”

With a soft utterance of, “I need a minute” she’s gone, closing herself off in her bedroom, leaving Bucky to start figuring out how the hell he’s going to make this right.

-------------------

This isn’t what she wanted.

No matter how much Bucky has consumed her thoughts, and her fantasies, and her dreams, she didn’t confess her trauma and her secrets in hopes that he would suddenly see her in a different light. Sharing her past had only meant to bring them closer together, for her to allow him in, to strengthen their friendship.

There were also selfish reasons - to satiate that urge to lay out her past and have him comfort her. To tell her it wasn’t her fault. To reassure her that she made the right decision cutting off her family.

Bucky’s always been good at that - saying the right thing, especially in a time of need. That’s probably what this is. Tonight, with the storm, and the blackout, and the lit candles - not to mention getting high together - he got confused, wrapped up in the moment, wanting to make her feel better.

That’s all it is.

But what if it’s not?

Everything Bucky said replays in her mind, the conviction in his voice, the urgency, the need for her to understand. Instead of giving her the answers she’s seeking, the doubt grows, convincing her that even if he’s not confused, it’s probably still a spur-of-the-moment thing. Something recent that caused this.

If not tonight, then maybe last night, letting him take her picture? Or, probably last week when she joined him and his friends at the bar. She acted like a completely different person, most likely giving him the wrong impression. Making him believe that she’s someone she’s not. Someone carefree, confident, easygoing.

That must be what happened. Which means Bucky’s not attracted to her. He’s attracted to a version of her that doesn’t even really exist.

Pacing her room, her spinning thoughts make her dizzy, one jumping to the next, making it impossible to figure out what to do next. The questions building right along with her anxiety. The smartest thing to do would be to walk back out there and ask them, find the clarity she needs, but it feels impossible.

She wouldn’t even know where to start.

And would it even matter?

If Bucky doesn’t really have feelings for her, she’d rather not know. And if his feelings are real, nothing good could ever come of it.

They’re too different.

They’re barely compatible as roommates and friends, let alone as anything more.

That’s not true.

She ‘blames’ the lingering effects of the weed for the interjecting of positivity - or maybe it’s Bucky slowly rubbing off on her - and flops back on her bed, the flashlight of her phone shining on the ceiling. She’s too high to immediately dismiss how well they mesh, how much fun they have together.

That still doesn’t mean this can lead anywhere. She carries too much baggage, and he deserves a life that he’s constantly striving for. One filled with never-ending enthusiasm and spontaneous adventures and extended family. She can’t offer him any of that.

You can at least offer him the truth.

“Fuck,” she curses, rubbing her hands over her face, distracting herself from the slight tremble rolling through her body. As much as she wants to throw caution to the wind and fall into this with an open mind, she’s too scared. She’s been through too much to think this can lead anywhere except the end of their friendship.

He’ll eventually come to his senses and she’ll be too heartbroken to get over him.

This is for the best.

-------------------

Bucky hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, his eyes locked on the flickering candles, lost in a sea of thoughts. Every step that led them here and how to salvage their friendship. There are too many variables, too many uncertainties regarding how she’s going to want to handle this. All he knows is that whatever Sunshine wants, he’ll give her.

He waits patiently, several minutes passing that feel like hours, unable to take a deep breath until she finally opens her door, cautiously joining him back in the living room. She looks so nervous, so worried about what’s going to happen that he has to be the one to break the silence, trying to make this easier for her.

“Are you okay?”

The slight nod of her head turns into a shrug, her shoulders lifting at the same time her eyes do, offering him a soft smile. “Sorry for… running away like that.”

Bucky’s quick to shake his head, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat, telling her, “You don’t need to apologize, I know this is a lot.” Watching her try to dismiss the magnitude of his confession convinces him to see this through. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sunshine grows quiet again, a moment passing before she takes a few tentative steps into the living room, pausing for a moment before returning to her seat at the opposite end of the couch. He can only take it as a good sign, especially when she assures him, “You don’t need to apologize either… you were just being honest.”

The gnawing panic over fixing this begins to dissipate and he wastes no time in telling her, “If you want to talk about it, I promise to keep being honest.”

The soft exhale of her laugh eases the tension in his own body and he gives her an encouraging grin, grateful to see her starting to relax, even a bit. She still keeps one foot on the floor, her body slightly turned towards him, but it’s more progress than he expected.

“Since you’re being honest, I should be too,” she whispers, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, fingernails picking at a loose thread.

Mentally preparing himself for whatever she’s about to admit, he shifts in his seat, pulling his feet back under him, his focus steady on her.

“You didn’t get the signals wrong.” Her admission comes slowly, but there’s no hesitation, Sunshine taking her time to convey her thoughts, sending Bucky on a rollercoaster of emotions. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Refusing to live a life of regrets, he asks, “But not because you don’t have feelings for me?”

A hint of amusement crosses her face, a brief pointed look thrown his way before she’s avoiding his gaze again, her attention pulled back to her shirt. “It’d ruin our friendship.”

“Nothing could ruin our friendship,” he counters, without hesitation. If she’s not going to deny their connection, neither will he.

With another twitch at the corner of her mouth, she tilts her head and narrows her eyes, still refusing to give him more than a brief second of her stare. Bucky doesn’t mind, as long as she keeps trying to talk to him.

With her gaze diverted, he studies her face, his eyes drawn to her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, allowing himself to envision reaching out to soothe it with his thumb.

Not letting his mind drift, he refocuses, seconds before she finds the courage to confess, “This could. Especially if it’s… Tonight’s been… so much has happened with the blackout, and the trauma bonding, and I don’t… we don’t know what’s going to happen in the light of day.”

Bucky’s own brow furrows in response, memories of their earlier conversation playing in his head, trying to discern what he said that caused her to think this is a hasty decision, an unexpected realization that he hasn’t agonized over every waking moment.

“The same thing that’s been happening,” he says, offering her a slight shrug and a comforting smile. “I know this might be new for you, but it’s been my reality for a while now.”

“How long?” Her question comes out in a long exhale, the slight furrow of her brow signaling more doubt and accusations.

At least it’s a question he was already prepared to answer, the truth spilling out of him without a second thought. “A couple of months.”

-------------------

A couple of months.

After learning it wasn’t just because of tonight, she was expecting a couple of days, maybe a week. But a couple of months?!

Her head spins again, calculating everything from when her own feelings started to the moment Bucky started calling her Sunshine and fixing her morning coffee. She’s looking for inconsistencies, reasons to stick to her belief that nothing good can come from this.

She can’t find any though - realizing that his feelings started before hers did, but only after he was already making her lunch and leaving her coffee - and all she can wonder is, “Why?” He already thinks this is new for her, the excuse that it’s because she has feelings for him no longer plausible, and she’s trying to figure out what caused the change.

Bucky’s soft laugh cuts through her racing thoughts and he leans in, shifting a bit closer, almost an entire couch cushion still between them. She wants to break the distance and add more all at the same time, his bright smile the only reason she doesn’t move a muscle.

“How could I not, Sunshine?” he shakes his head, as if he never stood a chance. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met and I-.” He pauses to let out another laugh, the smile he’s giving her making her stomach flutter and her heart skip a beat. “My favorite part of the day is when I’m with you.”

Words fail her, as they seem to at the most inopportune time, but Bucky’s patient, giving her a moment to process and respond whenever she’s ready. It allows her time to swallow her fear and ask another question that threatens to overwhelm her, “What if that’s all it is? I mean, we’re friends and-.”

“I don’t think about my friends the way I think about you.”

He rarely ever interrupts her, but when he does, it’s usually for her benefit, to quiet her worries. This is no exception and she suddenly can’t breathe again, her chest growing tight as air gets trapped in her lungs.

This is actually happening.

Despite the longing look Bucky’s giving her, she still can’t accept it. The trust she has in him doesn’t outweigh the walls she’s built to protect herself. Years of experience teaching her that if something feels too good to be true, it probably is.

Twisting his assurance that nothing could ruin their friendship, she grasps at one last straw, telling him, “I don’t want to be an experiment.” Bucky’s face morphs into one of confusion and shock, her accusation like a slap to his face, but she can’t stop herself from doubling down, shrugging as she asks, “Have you ever even dated anyone fat before?”

He blinks, letting out a sharp exhale, the twitch in his jaw the first sign that she’s crossed a line. Steve’s words of ‘you’ve never given him a reason to be mad’ echoing in her head, but it’s too late to take this back. Even if it was the wrong way to ask, it’s still a fear she needed to express.

She swallows the lump forming in her throat as he gives her a slow shake of his head and says, “Please don’t do that. I know the world can be unkind, but I’ve never treated you with anything but respect.”

There’s no anger in his tone, only pain and frustration, Bucky doing his best to set a boundary with her. She respects him too much to push back, taking a moment to force air into her lungs, breathing several slow deep breaths. And he lets her, even though she accused him of being like all the other assholes who have hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her throat tight with emotion, resisting the urge to remind him she’s not good at this. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Bucky accepts her apology with a grateful smile, telling her, “I don’t mind if you have doubts or insecurities, okay? I never have.” He lifts a hand to his chest, promising her, “ And I’m happy to help quiet them, but I’d rather you ask me, instead of accusing me, that’s all.”

She swiftly nods her head, rendered speechless again, her voice stuck in her throat. He’s managed to avoid all the landmines, pass all her tests, but the doubt lingers. The fear doesn’t ease. It won’t until she has concrete proof. Something she can cling to.

What if he can’t give you any?

The silent questioning gives her pause and she takes the opportunity to announce that she needs another drink, her bottle nearly empty, excusing herself to the kitchen. She wastes time at the fridge, the single candle on the counter the only light as she takes several gulps of water to soothe her dry throat.

Her current thoughts mirror the ones from earlier, her anxiety and insecurities doing their best to convince her of things she knows aren’t true. This isn’t a joke, or a thoughtless confession, or a fetishized curiosity.

Interrupting the growing silence, Bucky joins her, leaving several feet between them, “What do you need, Sunshine?”

The tender way he asks is almost enough to make her cry, his soft murmur providing her comfort. All he’s ever cared about is her happiness, going out of his way to make her day, even before he ever considered dating her. After all the pain and heartache she’s endured, doesn’t she deserve a chance at happiness?

This is a bad idea.

Her heart’s racing, and she’s not sure if or when she’ll be able to breathe deeply again, but it’s not enough to scare her away anymore. She’ll live the rest of her life with yet another regret if she doesn’t take this chance, deciding to trust his promise that nothing can ruin their friendship.

“What kind of thoughts do you have about me?”

She keeps her back to him, and the words are barely audible, but he doesn’t make her repeat them, his soft footsteps echoing as he moves a bit closer.

“I think about spending more time with you,” he explains softly. “Taking you out on dates, getting to flirt with you, make you blush.”

Her skin grows warmer, a light sweat collecting under her shirt, threatening to overwhelm her. And yet, there’s no wish for the electricity to come back, wanting nothing to interrupt them. Being in the dark, the quiet of night, it makes this just a bit easier.

“Is that all you think about?”

Another soft step, and then a whisper of, “No, but that’s where I want to start.”

The water bottle grows heavy in her hands, flashes of her own fantasies and dreams invading her thoughts, doing nothing to help cool her down. No hesitation takes hold of her, refusing to leave it here, refusing to take the out he’s giving her. She can’t.

She needs more. Proof that he wants all of her. That he desires her.

Forcing herself to relax, she asks, “Where do you want it to go?”

-------------------

Bucky should listen to his instinct and tell Sunshine everything - all his hopes and fantasies, even confess that night he listened for her moans of pleasure - but he doesn’t. He treads carefully, barely standing a foot behind her, quick to assure her, “Wherever you want it to.”

The moment he says it, a wave of regret washes over him, watching the tension suddenly return to her shoulders and her hands drop, her bottle swinging at her side. He’s so focused on trying to take this slow, to not push her into anything, that he’s accomplishing the opposite of what he was hoping for.

He’s reinforcing her insecurities instead of easing them.

Throwing caution to the wind, he follows his intuition, choosing 100% honesty.

“I think about kissing you.”

Her shuddering breath has a surge of arousal rushing through him and he lets his eyes drift close, taking a much needed breath to slow his racing heart. All the things he’s imagined doing with her filling his vision, his desire for her reaching new heights.

Trusting Sunshine to tell him to stop if he oversteps, Bucky keeps talking, his voice rough with need.

“I think about touching you.”

The soft, breathless sigh of his name has him reaching out, his fingers dangerously close to her wrist, her inviting warmth sending a bolt of electricity throughout his entire body.

At the last moment he pulls back, refusing to give in to the temptation. He can’t, not without her permission, and he’s not sure she’s ready to give it. She might never be. Not if he can’t show her how much he wants her.

“You’re not just an itch I wanna scratch, Sunshine. You’re not an experiment, and you’re sure as hell not just an occasional fantasy.” Her fingers tighten around her bottle and his eyes follow the bend of her elbow, the slight tension in her arms as she pulls her hands back in front of her.

These aren’t the signs of her wanting to pull away. She’s processing what he’s telling her. Questioning the possibilities. Focusing her energy on not jumping to the worst conclusion.

“You fantasize about me?” Hope. Longing. Desire. Need. It’s all there, evidence of her feelings for him.

Fuck.

He almost says it outloud, but he purses his lips, breathing heavily through his nose, ignoring the sudden twitching of his cock. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he focuses on a response. On words. Assurance. That’s all he should be offering right now.

“All the time. For months.” He can’t let any of her worries resurface, taking into account every argument she’s had tonight. “You’re in every fantasy. Every dream. You’re all I want.”

Her reaction feels like slow-motion, her trembling hand reaching out to try to place her water bottle on the counter. Without overthinking, Bucky does it for her, gently taking the bottle from her to set it down, his own hand steady despite the crackle of energy flowing through him.

He won’t let the doubt build, reading all the cues she’s throwing out to cement his hope for their future, watching as she turns around to face him.

“I want all of you. Your mind and your body. Every single fucking inch of you, if you’ll let me.”

Bucky can’t take it anymore. Her surprise and relief palpable as she meets his gaze, forcing him to make the first move, to finally close the distance between them. Still seeking her permission, he reaches out, hovering near her hand, the slight twitch of her fingers encouraging him to softly ask, “Yes or no, Sunshine?”

If she wants this, he has to hear the words. He can’t move forward without them.

There’s no rush as he watches her swallow and open her mouth, the process repeating on a loop until she’s able to fight through it. To give herself permission to move forward with him, even though there’s still so much fear and uncertainty.

“Yes.”

---------------------------

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