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clumsybriar · 6 months ago

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Ghost x Wife! Reader — Love at First Sight

Notes: This was written after My Pretty Girl but is a prequel to it almost like how they met! I am working on more with these two so keep an eye out!

Word count: 5,189

Warnings: none just cute

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(Y/n) looked at the books stacked on a rack still needing to be put back in the location they belonged. She felt like this would take entirely too long to put away, but this was what work was left as she worked the evening shift.

She was the only worker other than one other college student who just checked people out with the books they selected.

It was often quiet with the usuals coming in, but they didn’t have many people in the evening. Everyone was either shopping or going out to eat.

(Y/n)’s stomach growled as she looked up at the tall shelves she would have to use a ladder to reach. She wished right now she could go out and eat at that restaurant down the street that had the best chicken noodle soup that she craved in this fall weather.

She quietly grabbed the ladder pushing it to the far right where she slowly started to climb up with the three books.

She kept herself steady that way she didn’t fall off break a limb or worse.

She slowly put the books away, unaware of the commotion that happened behind her. She was zoned in and had no idea people were being ushered out of the library due to a bomb.

She was just zoned in on her work.

She never heard the loud British voices barking orders to civilians and other soldiers. She never heard the loud boots on the library’s granite flooring. It was as simple as that, she was just zoned in coming back down to grab a few more books.

Her sneakers squeaked on the glossy floors as she turned around grabbing another stack of books. She hummed quietly as she talked her lips trying to remember exactly where the authors she was looking for were located.

“Miss,” a calm British voice pulled her out of her concentration. Her eyes darted to him as she stared at him wide eyed and a bit jumpy since she didn’t expect him to be there at all.

This was a perfect example of a deer in headlights about to get hit. Who was the deer and who was the car was for a later debate.

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) clutched her heart as she looked at the man with a skull mask on his face.

Who was he? Why was he here? Why did he have all this gear and a gun? Was he robbing the library?

All these thoughts just kept going on through her mind as she looked at Simon with a bit of deer and nervousness.

She was just a nervous little thing anyways, with anxiety and the need to hide and paint all day. Seeing a man with a skull balaclava was not in her bingo card for the day.

Seeing her jump, Simon's expression softened even more. A rare flicker of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said, his voice smooth and gentle.

He approached her, his footsteps slow and measured, as if trying to not further startle her. He extended a hand to her, an invitation to stay put for a moment. "Are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

“M’okay,” she nodded as she took a deep breath. “Can I help you?” She remembered her hospitality with guests to the library, especially new ones. “Is there something you’re looking for or am I missing something here.” She squeaked out looking at his uniform and gun.

Simon's lips curled into a small, almost boyish smile at her words. He found her politeness endearing, a stark contrast to the usual gruffness he encountered. "You're the helpful type, aren't you?" he said, his voice still gentle and amused.He took another step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm here with my team," he explained, gesturing casually behind him. "We've got a bit of a situation we're dealing with."

“Uhhh,” there it was, her brain shut off as she looked around confused. “Situation? Okay…” she trailed off as she thought for a second. She watched as another soldier, a Scottish one came around the corner pulling the man who was talking to her away for a second.

She looked around confused trying to see if anyone was still in the library.

She looked at the checkout area and found her co-worker missing from the area

“Thanks for telling me there were scary soldiers here, Laney!” (Y/n) thought.

As Soap practically dragged Simon away for a quick discussion, his gaze remained fixed on (Y/n), his eyes lingering on her for a few moments before he had no choice but to turn away. Soap started talking, but it took a moment for Simon's mind to process the words.

"What, Johnny?" he snapped back, realizing Soap was speaking to him.

Soap raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Mate, you're drooling," he teased, noticing how Simon had been staring at (Y/n). “Does the lassie have you droolin’ like a dog, LT?”

“Im not droolin’,” Simon huffed. “Ya’ find the bomb yet you git?”

“Found it alright LT, like me to disarm it as fast as I can?” Soap smirked as he looked back at (Y/n) giving her a wink.

She flushed red and looked away as Ghost gave Soap a sharp stern glare.

“She's cute.” Soap laughed, as he looked at Simon. “Can’t blame a man.”

“I can and I will, back off.” Simon snapped.

“Oh I see,” Soap hummed. “Backing off, LT.” Soap raised his hands in surrender.

“Disarm it,” Ghost snapped, his gaze stern.

Soap chuckled, understanding he had hit a nerve. "Alright, alright, I'll disarm it," Soap quipped, his tone still light-hearted. The sergeant was out of sight back to the bomb as he went to complete his task.

Simon’s soft gaze was back on you as he reached his hand out to you. “Come now, love, you gotta leave the building.”

(Y/n) blinked in surprise as Simon took her hand, his touch gentle but firm, guiding her. The nickname "love" sent a flutter through her, and she couldn't help but look deep into his brown eyes. "I...I have to stay. I'm on shift," she said quietly, her voice soft and hesitant. It was a weak protest at best as she found herself wanting to stay near him.

On top of that she was cursing herself for even saying that, but she had no idea what was going on. She had no clue or no idea that a bomb was in this building willing to blow at any second.

Simon couldn't help the warmth that spread through him as he heard her protest, the way her voice was so hesitant and soft. He tightened his grip on her hand slightly, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I understand, love," he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with such natural ease. "But trust me, you don't want to be around when we disarm this thing. It could get a bit messy."

“Disarm?” She sputtered out looking at him confused, “a bomb?” She uttered.

Simon's expression sobered as he realized he hadn't fully explained the situation. He gave a small nod, his eyes locking onto hers in earnest. "Yes, a bomb," he confirmed, his tone a mix of seriousness and reassurance. "That's why we're evacuating the area. But don't worry, we'll take care of it. We're trained for this sort of thing."

“I could imagine.” She looked embarrassed. How come it didn’t click in her head earlier they were soldiers and were here for some threat. “I am so sorry, it’s been a long week.” She uttered. A long week of staying up until 4 am trying to paint her final for her still art project. She was struggling to feel anything for that final. Her confusion clearly came from the lack of sleep though and her problem solving skills were lacking too because of the little to no sleep she had. “I feel a little dumb for not registering the situation as to why you might be here.” She rambled embarrassed. Her hand rubbed her forehead as she smiled embarrassed, her eyes looked around darting at different things in the library.

Simon's tough exterior softened as he watched her ramble on, her embarrassment only adding to her charm. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "No need to apologize," he said gently. "Sometimes the obvious can slip right by us when we're too focused on other things."

There was an unspoken understanding between them, a mutual acknowledgment of the connection they were starting to feel.

“How come he’s soft with her and he’s been barking orders at us all day,” Gaz huffed as he watched Simon slowly guide you to the exit. “I don’t feel the love Captain.”

“Kyle, get to work.” Price laughed as he looked at the sergeant. “He’s in love, leave him be.”

“A big ol lovey-dovey of a teddy bear.” Soap interjected as he looked at the bomb studying it.

“I’m tellin’ him you said that.” Gaz smirked.

“I’ll be dead by sundown.” Soap nodded.

Simon knew one thing, he wanted to marry this woman and as fast as he could.The realization hit him hard, like a freight train crashing into his thoughts. He had always prided himself on being focused, on maintaining a certain level of detachment. But she had managed to break through his defenses, knocking down the barriers he so carefully placed around his heart.

In that moment, as he stood with her, holding her hand in his, Simon's mind was made up. He wanted her, wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life.

For weeks Simon was distressed when he wasn’t able to find her again. He wished he could have gotten her number or asked her on a date but as soon as the bomb was diffused and everything was under control they were called back out to another mission.

But Simon didn't forget about her. In the quiet moments of the night, when the mission and the chaos of life had momentarily subsided, his thoughts would drift back to her. He could still remember the way she looked at him, the way she felt in his grasp, and the soft sound of her voice as she fumbled her words.

Simon was a patient man, but the wait was getting harder each day. He yearned to see her again, to hold her close, and to tell her how much she had unexpectedly changed his life.

He had fallen so helplessly in love with her as if he was just meant for her.

Luck was on his side though he knew that much. Who knew a month later he would find her attending the same wedding.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You want me to walk you down the aisle?” (Y/n) looked at her cousin's soon-to-be-wife surprised.

“Yes,” Farah nodded her head with a sweet smile on her face. “Alex and I have talked, my brother and family are all gone, we want you to be the one to walk me down the aisle and be beside me as we get married.” She hummed. “You’ve accepted me like I’m your own sister and I trust you.”

(Y/N) felt a rush of emotion as Farah spoke. She didn't know if she was worthy of such a role, but she couldn't bring herself to reject Farah's heartfelt request.

"Oh, Farah..." (Y/n) began, her voice filled with an emotional waiver. "If you would like me to walk you down the aisle, then I will gladly.” She sniffled.

“You made her cry.” Alex chuckled.

“Shut up Alex!” (Y/n) huffed. “I’ve always been emotional, you know that.”

Alex sat beside her as he hugged her tightly. “I know, that’s what we love the most about you.” Farah didn’t hold off as she jumped into the hug as well.

When it came to walking her down the aisle (Y/n) looked at Farah and smiled. Her Abaya was so beautiful and her make up was natural.

“Oh Farah, you're so beautiful.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she looked at the beautiful bride.

“You think so.” Farah said, showing a bit of nervousness. Who wouldn’t be? This was such an important day.

“I know so.” (Y/n) smiled, reassuring the woman. “Alex will ball his eyes out and then we can call him emotional later.” (Y/n) teased gently.

“That sounds like a perfect plan.” Farah giggled softly. The two straightened up when the music started playing, leading for (y/n) to open the door as she started to walk Farah down the aisle.

Guests were seated all over the place as they stopped and looked at the two women. They were gaping at the beautiful bride as they should be. Farah was gorgeous. But one person couldn’t keep his eyes off of (Y/n). A month of being tormented by her in his dreams Simon was finally able to lay his eyes on her once again.

Simon's heart skipped a beat as his eyes landed on (y/n), walking down the aisle beside Farah. It was a sight to behold. His breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he tried to process the wave of emotions crashing over him.

He had been waiting so long to see her again, and here she was, looking even more beautiful than he remembered. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her, his heart pounding against his ribcage. It was a whirlwind of emotions and he couldn’t contain himself as his eyes were set straight on (y/n).

He couldn’t believe his luck, from thinking he would never see (Y/n) again to seeing her a month later at Alex and Farah’s wedding.

Simon had barely been able to contain his excitement as he watched (Y/n) walk down the aisle with Farah. It felt like fate had stepped in and given him a second chance. As he sat in the ceremony, the significance of the moment settled in his mind.

He watched (Y/n), his gaze flickering over her again and again, as if trying to make sure it was really (Y/n) and not just a figment of his imagination. Throughout the ceremony, his eyes remained fixed on her, filled with a mixture of disbelief, excitement, and an undeniable connection.

He knew she wouldn’t recognize him as he was adorned in a mask the first time he met her. He wasn’t sure how to make her recognize him, but he knew he had to do something.

As the wedding progressed and the ceremony began Maria stopped Simon as she fixed his suit and tie.

“Now, lad, put yer’self together, she’s a cutie.” Maria gave him a prep talk like the mother she was. “Don’t be like John and put a little effort into it.”

“I put a lot of effort into it.” John corrected as he looked at his wife. He was a tad bit offended it seemed, but still it was very clearly obvious he loved his wife even with the comments she made about his lack of apparent effort.

“Mr. Price,” Maria looked back at him.

“My wife is correct,” John cleared his throat, backing off.

“She’s been painting for a while.” Soap hummed as he looked at (y/n).

“She’s painting a scene from the wedding.” Maria smiled. “I scoped the area for Simon already,” Maria nodded, “gotta see the lad get married and this little lassie is the one.”

Simon snorted as Maria was already exploring the area. Of course she was, she was a bit nosey too like the others, Gaz and Soap had been trying to get a better peek at her.

“Tell her she’s pretty, and ask her if she’ll dance with you.” Maria patted Simon’s chest as she had him all out together.

He glanced over at (y/n) seeing her giggle with Alex and Farah as the two hovered around her watching her paint.

“Alex.” She gasped as she looked at him. “Don’t touch the paint.” She snorted. “It’s oil, it won’t dry for months sometimes,” she shooed him away. Ghost smiled as he watched the woman stand up to the tall American.

Simon glanced at Maria, his expression torn between gratitude and trepidation. He appreciated her support, but the thought of approaching (y/n) was nerve-wracking. He wasn't used to expressing his feelings, especially in such a vulnerable way.

"You make it sound like it's an easy task," Simon retorted, his voice dripping with his usual stoicism, but there was a hint of uncertainty beneath it.

“It is an easy task, dear.” Maria dusted his shoulders off as she smiled at him nodding. “Just approach and ask for a dance.” She brushed off his worries.

Simon took a deep breath, steeling himself with Maria’s words of encouragement. He knew he was overthinking things, but when it came to you, he found himself second-guessing every move he made.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, straightening his suit. "Just ask her for a dance. How hard can it be, right?"

“Right!” Maria gave him a thumbs up. “Look at that John, our oldest is spreading his wings.”

“We adopted them, didn't we?” John looked at his wife deadpanning. He had three kids of his own, he didn’t need three more, grown adult kids.

“We did,” Maria said so proudly.

“Of course we did.” John hummed. “Course we did.”

He found it impeccably hard. He was fearful to approach, afraid he would muck up something. Each step he took towards (y/n) felt laborious, his body tensed with nerves. With every stride, he mentally practiced what to say, how to say it, and how to navigate the situation. He was acutely aware of the fact that he rarely put himself in such vulnerable positions, and it made his blood thrum with a mix of excitement and fear.

As he approached (y/n), he tried to maintain his usual stoic facade, but there was no hiding the way his heart was drumming against his chest.

But then he walked right past her and grabbed a whisky from the bartender as he looked more afraid than anything else. He was sure he was terrifying to look at with his scars from war and his stoic look that adorned his face.

“Oh how smooth,” he uttered as he grabbed the whisky and downed it in one swig.

She was so pretty and he wanted to make sure it was perfect. It had to be! It had to be perfect!

He scolded himself silently for being so afraid. He had faced battles, enemies, and death, yet here he was, intimidated by the chance to talk to a gorgeous woman.

He turned to the bartender and requested another drink, his gaze flickering over to where (y/n) was sitting, painting a beautiful picture. He downed the second drink even faster than the first one, trying to summon the courage he usually had in abundance.

“Having a tough time with something, Lieutenant.” Farah surprised him as she peered up at the tall man.

Simon almost jumped at the unexpected sound of Farah's voice behind him, his already heightened senses amplified by his current state. He quickly turned, his expression schooled into the usual stoicism, but Farah could see the hint of vulnerability beneath it.

"No need to sneak up on me like that," he replied, a bit gruff, but his words lacked their usual edge.

“My bad, my bad,” she smiled softly. “What’s got a lone wolf like you so flustered?” She smirked as she looked around the wedding venue.

Simon let out a frustrated sigh, knowing Farah could see right through him. He fidgeted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the venue as if hoping for a distraction, but there was none.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, his voice barely above a mutter. But he knew that Farah was persistent and would pry it out of him eventually. He took another sip of his drink, stalling for time.

He had no time when Maria took it into her own hands marching up to (Y/n) with a sweet smile on her face. Simon felt his blood run cold. Farah watched as Alex was pulled from his conversation with his cousin as Maria made her presence known.

“Oh dear god,” Simon groaned. “Put a bullet in my head now Farah.”

Simon's anxiety skyrocketed when he saw Maria approach (y/n), his mind racing with the possible outcomes. He took another swig of his drink, as if it could somehow quell the nerves, but it did little to ease his worries.

"I should never have let her talk me into this," he grumbled, his eyes locked on Maria and the woman as she initiated the conversation. "This is a disaster waiting to happen."

“You have a thing for Alex’s cousin?” Farah hummed. “How do you know her?”

Simon glanced at Farah, his expression betraying a mixture of surprise and resignation. He'd been caught in the act by Farah, and there was no use hiding it now.

"We met before," he muttered, his voice low. "During a situation..." He didn't elaborate, but the memory of that day was still fresh in his mind, the sight of (y/n) etched in his mind like a permanent image.

“Tell me how you met my antisocial cousin-in-law.” Farah giggled. “Alex is always trying to get her away from her college classes and getting her out to meet people.”

Simon chuckled softly at Farah's description of (Y/n) as "antisocial," and it struck a chord in him because he found her shyness endearing. He took a deep breath before recounting the story of meeting her.

"It was during a...bomb threat," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "We were called in to evacuate a library and disarm a bomb. She was there, working her shift, and...well, I couldn't take my eyes off her since then."

The memory of meeting (Y/n) was still fresh in his mind, and it played in his head like a film reel. Every glance, every touch, every word she said remained vivid in his memory. He could recall the way she looked, the way she smiled, the way she fidgeted—everything about (Y/n) that had managed to captivate him.

Then (y/n)’s eyes met his as Maria pointed him out. He couldn’t help but bristle at the fear of her hating the way he looked. As it was the last time she had seen him, he was in his mask and clearly doing work.

His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to maintain his composure. He was only failing as the heat rose to his cheeks and his stoic mask faltered. His eyes met (y/n)’s and the connection felt instant.

When her eyes met his, Simon felt a jolt of electricity run through him. The sound of the guests and the buzz of the venue faded into the background, and all he could focus on was the sight of her. "My pretty girl," he murmured to himself. He couldn’t look away. His eyes were locked into hers and she was locked onto him.

For months she had been plagued by the man who helped her at the library, and this man had the same shape as him. As it was she had recognized the sergeant that had talked to him while she was stuck in her daze of confusion. Johnny, was that his name? That’s what she thought it was. She had recognized his blue eyes and Mohawk, but the man with the skull balaclava had been a mystery to her. She often dreamt of his voice. Hearing it constantly in her dreams.

“Mr. Riley, get your arse over here.” Maria called to him as Farah giggled and pushed Simon forward.

Simon let out a resigned sigh as he heard Maria call out to him, knowing that he couldn’t back out of it now. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath as Farah gave him a small nudge forward.

"You're enjoying this a little too much," he grumbled, shooting Farah a sidelong glance, before making his way over to (y/n) and Maria.

Alex stood to the side smirking knowing exactly what Simon was going through.

“He’s as daft as any man, trust me my dear, but he has had his head in the clouds since you walked Mrs. Keller down the aisle.”

(Y/n) was too distracted as Simon looked away bashfully. She felt her heart beat out of her chest. “Mrs. Keller?” She questioned quietly as Alex chuckled.

“We’ve lost her, give her a second to catch up.” Alex hummed knowing how introverted and anxious she was. Her anxiety zoned her out and made her mind a muddled mess. She was currently just that, a muddled mess. Who could blame her, she had Simon standing before her and he was a very attractive man, and most likely the man who saved her that day. His sweet and kind attitude towards her made her heart swell and she couldn’t take him off her mind.

Simon chuckled softly at Alex's remark, his eyes flickering over to (Y/n), taking in her confusion. It was endearing how she was so lost in her thoughts, and he couldn't help but find it adorable.

He stood there, quietly waiting for her to process the situation, his eyes never leaving hers. The sight of her looking so overwhelmed yet so captivating made his heart skip a beat.

“Farah, Mrs. Keller.” (Y/n) came out of her daze . “What was the question?” She gulped.

“Hasn’t been a question yet.” Alex patted her back, “you're too cute.”

“Here’s a question.” Maria smiled as she tugged Simon forward. “Would you dance with him? He’s sweet, and he’s kind, and he’s handsome.”

Alex and Farah clutched to one and another as they waited for your response.

Simon felt his ears grow warm at Maria’s blunt compliment, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly at her words. He looked at (y/n), his expression a mix of anticipation and hope, waiting for her response.

He couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted to dance with her, to hold her close, and to make sure she knew he had been thinking about her since the library.

“Yes.” It was quick but quiet answer (y/n) gave.

Maria kept rambling on. “He saved you at the library, at least that’s what Little Johnny has been saying.” she hummed slightly. “said he couldn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time, Simon isn’t like that, he strives to be concentrated at work, but you my dear distracted him. I’m afraid so…” she paused as she looked at (y/n). “Wait, yes…yes! oh yes!” Maria was ecstatic.

Simon's heart pounded against his chest as he listened to Maria's words. He could feel himself blushing profusely, a rare moment of vulnerability in front of others. He averted his gaze from (y/n), suddenly bashful.

He had been trying to hide his fascination since the library incident, but it seemed like he hadn't done a great job, as Maria was making it abundantly clear.

“Well then,” (y/n) said softly, almost embarrassed. Simon couldn’t make out if she was embarrassed by his fascination or something she had said or was going to say. Needless to say it was the ladder. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one with the fascination.”

Simon's head turned back sharply at her words, his heart skipping a beat as he processed what she had just said. The room seemed to fall silent for a moment as he let her words sink in, his eyes locked onto hers.

He felt a mix of relief and surprise that she had confessed to also having a fascination with him. It was a revelation he hadn't been prepared for, but it was one that filled him with a sense of hopeful anticipation.

“Well then, we will leave you two…be,” Maria smiled.

“Oh! A secret piece of information,” Alex leaned forward looking at the two. “Just in the garden, there’s a beautiful place to be.” He winked at the two.

“What does that mean?” Simon asked, looking down at (y/n). His eyes softened at her.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) uttered. “I don’t speak his language sometimes.”

“Get away, get away,” Farah laughed as she pushed him away. “I think he meant there is a good secluded place to dance.” She giggled as she took her now husband away from the two.

“Oh,” Simon and (y/n) said in unison. The two looked at each other surprised and then giggled.

“Shall we go dancing then.” Simon hummed. “My love.”

“Yes,” Simon's heart leapt at her soft agreement. He gently took her hand, his rough palm against her soft skin. He led her towards the garden, the crowd around them fading into the background. The music was just loud enough to hear but not enough to take away from the two of their conversations,

As he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He had dreamed of this moment for a month now, and to finally have her in his arms was almost unreal.

The romance between the two was just unreal.

Simon and (y/n) moved together effortlessly, every step and movement in perfect synchronization. The world around them seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them. He held her close as he led the dance, his grip on her waist firm yet gentle.

As the music played, Simon couldn't take his eyes off her. He marveled at the way her eyes sparkled in the soft light, the way her hair framed her face, and the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. It was as if the universe had aligned to bring the both together like this.

“You're absolutely gorgeous, dead pretty my love.” He cooed softly as he dipped her down.

“You're too sweet.” She smiled as she got all bashful on him. “You're handsome as well, have been handsome since I first laid eyes on you.” She hummed remembering the library, now knowing this was the very man that had been so gentle and kind to her. He was the man who made her ooze for affection in her dreams from him and wake up to the harsh reality some mornings that she may never know him again. But somehow in some way, someone was letting their love story be weaved together intertwining their red strings together. The two knew from the start, this wasn’t just typical love, it felt like they had known each other forever, this was a love that lasts and a love that only grew from here on out.

“Glad it’s the same for you as it for me, my pretty girl.”

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I hope you enjoy! ��

Tagged:

@shecamedowninabubble

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you #cod imagine #cod mw ghost #ghost cod #ghost imagines #ghost x reader #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you

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dovesdreaming · 4 months ago

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Text me when you’re done killing people

Summary: You text Wade pictures of his two favourite girls while he’s working. He always loves to hear from you.

Request

Masterlist

Wade’s phone vibrated in his pocket mid-fight, right as he finished tossing a grenade at a group of particularly unfriendly henchmen. He had a few seconds before it exploded, so, naturally, he pulled out his phone with a flourish and checked the screen.

[You]: Miss you already! ❤️

A picture followed, and Wade’s heart did a little flip under the red-and-black suit. It was you, sitting on the couch with Dogpool, the tiny mutant dog perched on your lap, both of you looking into the camera with the sweetest expressions. You were wearing one of Wade’s old hoodies, the one that was three sizes too big for you, and Dogpool had a little bandana around his neck that you’d probably put on him. Wade grinned, staring at the picture as the grenade detonated behind him with a satisfying boom. Blood and chaos erupted in the background, but he barely noticed. His phone buzzed again.

[You]: Dogpool’s missing you too! Here’s a video!

He clicked the video, ducking instinctively as a stray bullet whizzed past his head. The video was short but sweet: Dogpool, standing on the couch, wagging his tail and barking excitedly. In the background, you laughed, your voice like music to Wade’s ears, even through the muffled speaker. “Dogpool, where’s Daddy? Where’s Wade?” you asked in the video. Dogpool barked even louder, as if he knew exactly who you were talking about. Wade’s grin stretched wider under the mask.

“Ugh, my heart," Wade muttered to himself, clutching his phone dramatically to his chest. He dodged a sword swing from a very angry assassin and ducked behind a crate for a brief second to type out a response.

[Wade]: Daddy’s coming home soon, babe! Just gotta finish slaughtering these no-good villains and I’ll be back to my favorite girls 💕 PS: you look cute in my hoodie. And Dogpool's killin' it with that bandana!

He hit send just as a goon rounded the corner, gun raised. Without looking up from his phone, Wade raised his other hand and shot the guy square in the chest. He watched him collapse, then glanced back down at his phone, eagerly awaiting your next text. Another vibration. His heart did that funny thing again.

[You]: We’re waiting for you! I’ll have snacks ready when you get home. Also, Dogpool is being too cute. He’s drooling all over your side of the bed 😂

Attached was another picture of Dogpool sprawled out on the bed, tiny paws flopped over Wade’s pillow, his tongue hanging out as he slept. Wade could practically hear your laugh in his head as he stared at the picture. He barely noticed the team of henchmen coming his way until the last second. With a sigh, he pocketed his phone and pulled out his katanas, leaping into action with a series of precise, bloody strikes. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll make this quick!” Wade called over his shoulder. “I’ve got two ladies waiting for me at home, and I’m not about to disappoint”. As the last of the enemies fell, Wade wiped off his katanas and slid them back into their sheaths. With the job done, he grabbed his phone again, a giddy thrill rushing through him at the sight of another text notification.

[You]: Come back to us soon. We miss you, Wade. I’ll always be here when you get home.

He paused, leaning against a wall as he reread the message. His heart warmed, like it always did when you sent things like that. Sometimes, it still felt unreal that someone as amazing as you would actually wait for him, love him, despite everything. Despite him. He quickly typed back:

[Wade]: I’m on my way, babe. You, me, and Dogpool = Best family ever. See you soon ❤️ PS: prepare for excessive cuddles.

And with that, Wade holstered his weapons, slung his bag over his shoulder, and took off toward home. Because no matter how many jobs he took, how much chaos and bloodshed filled his days, he always had something, someone, to come back to. And that was all that mattered.

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ryngzmn · 6 months ago

Text

a surprising discovery

PAIRING: TFW (dean, sam, and castiel) x reader (platonic, ofc)

A/N: I had such a bad headache while making this drabble / fanfic (i’m leaning more towards drabble now that i have finished writing..)

SUMMARY: After finding a baby on a hunt, you and the boys have no idea what to do or how to take care of it.. until they discover something surprising about you.

While on a grueling hunt dealing with shapeshifters, you four had found a baby. A baby, of all things.

Dean didn’t really want to take it back to the bunker, thinking it would be another Bobby John type situation, but you and Sam had managed to convince him otherwise.

So now, here you guys were, all looking down at the baby sitting contently in a wooden crib. Their big, innocent eyes flickering from one person to another.

“So, what the hell are we gonna do with ‘em?” Dean asked gruffly, his arms crossed.

You looked over at Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Well we gotta take care of the little guy for at least a little bit.” Sam nodded in agreement with your statement.

You had focused back on the baby and leaned down a little bit, to which they let out a giggle and kicked its chubby legs.

A small yet fond smile curled on your lips. You had some experience with children considering you babysat during your teenage years before you got into hunting.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean had busied themselves with discussing a plan on what to do while you interacted with the baby.

They reached their chubby arms out in a silent and clear demand to be held. You complied almost immediately, your heart squeezing at how cute this little thing was.

Once the baby was settled in your arms, you held them against your shoulder. They squealed happily and started patting your face, exploring the expanse of skin with small hands.

…

“Since when did you know how to handle a baby?” Sam’s questioning voice broke you out of whatever happy-baby-trance you were in and you turned on your heel to face him.

“Uh,” You paused, your tongue briefly darting out to wet your lips. “I used to babysit around my neighborhood before I got into huntin’.”

“Oh so you’re like a baby whisperer, huh?” Dean smirked, his eyes drifting over to the baby who was giving you a gummy smile.

You shrugged, a smug smile forming on your face. “Guess so.”

Castiel, who had been silent for most of the time, finally spoke up. “They do seem to like you, not that they really interacted with the rest of us yet.”

You hummed, eyebrows knitting together a tad as you realized that at least one of them would want to possibly hold the baby.

“Anyone wanna hold ‘em?” You held out the baby at arms length, who started fussing as soon as they registered they were too far away from you.

“…or maybe not.” You added as an afterthought, bringing the baby back to your chest so they wouldn’t start crying.

As soon as the baby was tugged back towards you, they snuggled up to your chest, letting out a small yawn and their tiny fists clutching onto the collar of your flannel.

“Looks like they’re getting ready for a nap.” Castiel said matter-of-factly.

Sam chuckled quietly, “yeah, to be honest, I don’t even think they’ll let you put them down so you might have to keep carrying them.”

You laughed, nodding.

You realized that you probably didn’t want to stand and hold a baby so you prompted to move to the main room of the bunker so all of you could relaxing after the hunt and new, temporary addition to the team.

—————————————————————————

if you enjoyed pls like and reblog bc then it’ll give me motivation to make more stuff like this in the future! :D

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will #tfw #spn #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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wetpussyju1ce · 27 days ago

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Mr. & Mrs Smith pt. 2

Assassin!Ray Smith x Assassin!fem reader

+18. mdni

assassin ray who goes ballistic if anyone puts their hands on his wife, she can handle herself, can send her own husband to the hospital but he still can't help it. so when he ends up gunning down the assassins trying to kill them just for being together, he goes to the other room, looking for his wife and finds her on the floor, clawing at a man choking her out, trying to kill her, and Ray sees red, “Hands off my fucking wife!”

The man looks up and is greeted by Ray's gunpoint, “I said; Hands. off.”

the man slowly lets go and she starts coughing, crawling away from under him and gets up as Ray points his gun straight at him. she stands by his side, a hand holding her neck as Ray asks, “What do they want?”

“They want you dead.” The man answered.

“Obviously, you fucking twat, why?” Ray hissed.

“They're scared you'll trade firm secrets; double agent stuff.” The man answered and Ray looked at his woman, then back at the man, and without another second thought, pulled the trigger, giving him a neat hole in the middle of his forehead.

“Firm secrets, what a joke.” His wife muttered and he agreed.

Ray, who even though they're technically on the run, still manages to look for his wife's favourite snacks when they quickly stop for gas and he goes to buy some fags cuz he KNOWS he'll be needing a couple after tonight's shitshow. and when they're back on the road, he hands them to her, w a hand sanitiser and tissues, of course. She thanks him with a big kiss to his cheek and starts munching away as he drives them to the other side of the country.

Ray who at the first opportunity buys his wife a pair of sweats to wear, because she's still in her panties and it's getting brighter outside, the world is waking up and she's bound to catch attention w a pair of legs and ass like hers. and when she slips them on, they fit absolutely perfect because he knows all her sizes by heart, and knows to get her a size up so they're baggy and extra comfy around the waist.

Ray who gets a special kind of twinkle in his eye when he gets his hands on any type of big firearms. he loves them big w lots of buttons to mess with. after all, he's just a boy w a special love for tinkering n messing w machines. His wife notices and her heart grows twice as big at the sight. because he's so freaking cute, getting giddy over using big guns. she cant help the smile that pulls at her lips while watching her husband light up an alley w his machine gun, putting multiple holes in each assassin coming after them.

Ray who's concerned the second his wife groans and clutches at her arm, looking in pain and Ray immediately asks, “Who hurt you?”

She points out a bleeding corpse, and he shoots it once, “Here, you'll be okay, darling,” And she smiles at him, as he kisses his thumb and middle finger together and presses it to where it hurts, and they leave a sea of broken and bloody bodies behind, hand in hand.

Ray who finds out Fletcher was the one who ratted them out to their firms for money. who managed to get photographic evidence of them both together. a mundane picture really, them coming out of the big Tesco, Ray pushing their trolley while his wife is opening a pack of Maltesers.

But Ray doesn't care. he hates it when people feel privy to his private life. he doesn't appreciate that kind of disrespect, at all. especially when there's a possibility that Fletcher could've taken a photograph of his lovely wife doing literally anything, like painting in their garden in nothing but a bikini under the sun.

His wife quickly learned how protective Ray actually was. Before she knew his real occupation, she just appreciated it when he used his whole body as a shield to protect her from unwanted touches or attention. Or when that one time a tipsy man, at the pub, accidentally dropped his wallet on her lap and reached to grab it just for Ray to grab his wrist in a flash. The man winced and Ray relaxed his hold, but dragged the man's hand up on the counter instead, grabbed the wallet on his own and slapped it on the man's hand with a tight smile. She only watched and didn't move an inch, smiling big when Ray asked her to switch seats w him.

It wasn't anything big, but it was enough for her to praise and lean her whole body against him, giving him tiny kisses on his beard once in a while, dying at how adorable he was, and that was just when she thought her sweet and attentive civilian husband was just an accountant with a smidge of OCD.

But now that he could freely express what he could and would do for his wife, was the most thrilling and addicting feeling.

When she wasn't slicing her way through skin and guts, or shooting men dead until her hand burned around the gun handle, she would stand there and watch her Ray absolutely terrorise the other assassins. She would watch with her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes now practically hearts, toying w her fingers like a lovestruck teenager. It was so exciting.

And when Ray would meet her eyes, he would grin and she would giggle, skipping to where he was, standing over a now cooling body and giving him a cheeky kiss to the corner of his mouth. then they would leave on a stolen car, breaking every road law and rule.

And when she finds them a way to get out of the country, Ray realises he has to change his appearance, so he sits on the dingy motel room bed, abt to shave his beard off, he'll do it, but he's just saying goodbye to his facial hair before he has to get rid of it all and cut his hair shorter. At least his wife will only need to dye her hair.

When she realises he's abt to get rid of one of her favourite things abt him, she whines and already mourns the loss. but then realises that actually, he showed her a picture of him when he was much younger and he looked incredibly handsome under the facial hair, so really, there won't be much of a loss.

So before he shaves it all off, she asks him if he'd be up to eating her out one last time as a farewell ritual to his beard lmao.

And Ray would never say no to her, so just to be extra safe, he goes ahead and washes his face, soaps his beard and rinses it, just so all that he gives his pretty wife is redness from the friction. and they go to town, oh they do that the next door guests bang on the wall and shout at them but Ray doesn't give a rats ass and his wife is in another planet as he pounds her to Sunday.

When that's all said and done. Ray finally shaves all of his beard off and she helps him, tilting his head this and that way, even using scissors and a blade when needed. then it was his hair. he thought abt buzzing it all off but she just asked him to hand her to scissors and brush. So she cut almost all of his beautiful prince charming hair, left a little at the top then shaved the sides shorter, giving him a fade of some sort. and at the end when he looks at himself in the mirror he feels so naked. so different.

“Wow, you look like my boyfriend, not my husband.” She says while standing behind him, looking at the bathroom mirror, a towel wrapped around her chest, hair wrapped in clingfilm.

Ray frowns in confusion, a hand on his cheek, “Excuse me?”

“You look like my bad boy boyfriend who scares my parents, not my mature dilfy husband,” She says and Ray is still confused, “Do you like it?”

“Hm?”

“Do you like my face? Without the beard?” He asks, turning around to face her.

She places a hand on his big shoulder, and squeezes the muscle, “I'd let you do unspeakable things to me with or without the beard, love.”

He smiles and rubs his eyes, “I need my glasses…”

“They're on the bed, I need to wash my hair,” She says, kissing him on the cheek and he hums, walking out of the bathroom with his hands on his hips, dad style.

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leavingsunsets · 9 months ago

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Hi, Sen! I have a fanfic request here (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) Psst- Senku and Fem!Reader please

The set is an alternate universe where no mass-petrification ever happened. Instead shs Senku meets a new member (first year) of the science club, where she's passionately into nuclear and stuff (you could add any). The reader here's pretty shy and afraid of men but when it comes to Senku.. yk, love and simp, secret crush 🥺‼️I've had to mention it earlier tho, please make this fic fluff and cute 🩷

Thank you for your time, mind, and whatever it takes to make this fic. And please stay healthy 🩷

omg thank you for the request !!! like the scenario, and reader concept, and will do for cute and fluffy themes!! thanks thanks for the hearts !!!

"𝖲𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌."

[𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 & 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚔𝚞 𝙸𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚒]

Your first meeting wasn't much to talk about, other than the fact that Senku's pinned you as a little oddball. He still remembers your head just barely peeking into the empty room, flinching the moment you spotted him.

"Do you, uh, happen to know where the science club president is...?" A timid type, he sees. "That would be me. Anything you need?"

"Oh, uh, just my form."

"Ah, the membership form," pulling off his gloves, he approaches. When you hand it over, his eyes skim over it. "Ah, a junior." He folds the paper, smirking. "Well aren't you eager. Weren't these just passed out today?"

A little tense, you rub your arm. "Ah, yeah. I just, wanted to get a spot, I guess."

He assumed you would've been a more quiet member, working off on the side with your own little experiments. Which, you were, at first. Tinkering with microscope and the like.

"Radiation?" he queries, which makes you jolt. You hadn't noticed him. Following his gaze, you see that he's checking out your notes.

"Uhm, yes. It's just for my research..." you mumble, pulling away from the microscope.

"I see. Into atomics, ey?" Chuckling, he turns to walk back to his own project. "School materials aren't quality enough for that kind of science, junior."

You rub your arm. "Well... I'm only studying about it now.. I'm not ready for experimenting until I know everything about it."

His lips quirked slightly, "Smart. Good plan."

Since then, he's always been aware of that constant student by the club room's window. In her own world, barely talking if unneeded. Of course, Senku wasn't dumb. Based on his observance, you've always been stiff around him, or the guys who even so much as breathe near you. Odd behavior, but it doesn't hinder you, or others, so, he leaves it alone.

When you started approaching him more, he didn't mind.

"Senior, since you know more about this, I wanted to ask if you could teach me...?"

"Senior, here, I'll help."

"Senior, I just wanted to ask if I could conduct this experiment in the lab?"

It wasn't really anything strange for him. In fact, he thought it was great improvement. He encouraged it, even.

And so, here you were, clutching the wrapped bento in your sweaty hands. It was just you and him again, with the others so eager the moment the bell rang.

"I'm going for a drink," he breaks the silence, taking off his safety gear. At this, you jump for the chance.

"Wa- Senior, wait!"

He pauses, looking at you. "Hm?"

With the weight of his eyes on you, your heart beats a little faster in nervousness. This was nervewracking, you were starting to regret it a little. However...

'Come on. It's now or never. You know how busy he always is.'

"I notice you usually spend lunch in the clubroom... So..."

You hold it out to him, shakily. Too nervous, you look elsewhere, too scared to look at his face.

It was quiet. For a little while. But every second for you felt like an eternity.

Senku chuckles. Caught off guard, you look up.

"You got a crush on me or something, junior?" he jests, running a hand through his hair. And you, simply, erupt into a vivid scarlet.

"N-No!" You fluster, gesturing wildly. "I just, I thought you'd want some lunch, cuz I see you everydayandmaybeyou-"

"Calm down, it was just a question."

You hang your head once more in embarrassment.

"But," he says,

"I appreciate it."

His smile is soft, and voice placid, all of a sudden. The light from the window only highlights it, only giving the empty room a bright glow. This felt like some kind of shoujo moment.

It shocked you a little. Knowing his personality, you expected obvious discomfort, maybe even a harsh rejection. You're snapped out of your thoughts when he's already turned for the door, bento taken.

Your eyes linger on the door that slides close.

Yeah. Maybe you do have a crush on him.

#dcst fanfic #dr stone fanfic #sen writes !#sunset prints !#x reader #dr stone #dr stone x reader #dcst #ishigami senku #dcst senku #senku #dr stone senku #senku ishigami #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #IM SORRY IF ITS A LITTLE RUSHED OR LOW QAULITY RAWR 😭😭#FINISHED IT WHILE WIAITNG FOR THE DENTIST AFTER 2 DAYS RAAAHH #reblogs are appreicated #sen accepts !

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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JEALOUS FUCKGIRL YAN.. yknow if ya don't mind. Coughcoughilovegirlswhoaremean

She's impossible to read.

One minute she's all over you, next she's disappearing off into the crowd. You can always pick her out sooner than later, watching you like a hawk cozied up with someone side night cared to remember by morning. You've told yourself time and again this is just how she is with everyone. Sometimes the flirty, extroverted type just don't get they can't be that way with everyone before someone catches feelings, but it's that same attention that makes you feel like there's so much more going on between you. Maybe you're just overthinking it. As her closest resemblance to a friend, you know better than anyone she'd be a tough partner to have..

Friends...

"hey..."

Yea, that's what you are.

"Hey!"

Over the music and chattering crowd, it's understandable to mistake the voice as directed at someone else. It's when you look at the glossy eyes of your slightly inebriated floor mate that you realize they were talking to you. Taking your gaze, they crack a toothy smile as they move closer so you're able to hear over the music - eyes watching their every step.

"What's going on with you and Dylan? Saw you two walk in and hanging around town before. She's never been so public with one of her partners."

The punch at the bottom of your cup tastes more bitter than you remembered as you sip from it. "It's nothing like that. Had a rough week so she offered to take me somewhere tonight. We're just friends."

The stranger frowns, but their pity never reaches their eyes. "Shame. Seems like she lucked out this time cause you're kinda cute. What's your name?"

"It's-

"None of your damn business."

The scent of department store cologne and tobacco assaults your senses as her hands fall at your waist. You can feel the weight of her glare over your shoulder as the stranger sheepishly backs away from promity to you and her line of sight. Gripping your waist, she pulls you to her chest - shooting an arm around your neck to keep you pinned in place as she swallows her visible anger with whatever's left in your cup.

"Baby.." She draws with that honeyedly sweet tone only she could channel, resting her head against your cheek with a sigh as she holds you close. "I leave you alone for a second and you run off with a stranger. Never pegged you as the type to break a poor girl's heart, but here we are."

The stranger looks between the two of you as her breath fans your ear through her laughter, confusion and a hint of disappointment clear on their face. "Sorry, Dyl.. Not trying to steal your date or nothing. They said you guys were just friends..."

"We are!" You argue, unsure of your own defense as her lips meet the skin of your neck. "we..are.."

Moving to your collar, her teeth close as her arms tight around you - biting down with no real force behind it, but enough to leave a sting. "All I know is if you're not out of my fucking sight in the next ten seconds we're gonna have a big problem on our hands and depending on how settling it goes there might be a few teeth on the floor."

The stranger opens their mouth-

"10...."

Turning tail as she opens hers. Watching as they flee, you finally wriggle out of Dylan's arms enough to shove her away. "What the hell was that, Dylan."

She shrugs, having the nerve to look upset as you raise your voice. "What? They were getting in your space so I helped you out. You're welcome by the way."

"They were just talking to me- Why bring me to a public place and go talk to somebody else if you didn't want me mingling with others. Why do you always insist we're just friends to people then turn around and act like my girlfriend when people trying to get to know me. Do you want me to end up miserable and alone?"

Something snaps in Dylan's eyes at your accusations. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt she yanks you back towards her - ramming her lips and tongue against your sealed mouth as she clutches your jaw, applying pressure to pry you open for her. The taste of liquor and the tobacco you smelt on her prior spills onto your tongue; the jewelry of her inner piercing clashing against your teeth as she robs you of breath and grasp on whatever grounding your relationship had before this. Her hand dips into your back pocket as her husky eyes into yours - voice dropping to a whisper so the watching crowd hasn't a clue what she says. All that matters is that you do and understand your place.

"What we are doesn't matter right now. Only thing that does is that you are mine. Don't let anyone put any silly ideas in that pretty head that make you think that you're not. Do I make myself clear?"

You swallow the air you had been holding.

"Do. I. make myself clear."

"..yea."

"Good." Her face relaxes into the smile you've grown accustom to as she pats your cheek. "Good. Say I'd hate to have to remind you, but I've been told I'm a bad liar."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #female yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabble #Dylan my oc

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mimi-cee-genshin · 7 months ago

Text

Denial is Futile: Wanderer x f!reader - Chapter 7

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Taglist

« Chapter 1 | < Chapter 6

Summary:

What would you do if you were stuck with Wanderer indefinitely?

The cute and sweet guy from the bazaar was brought to your place while unconscious. But when he woke up, you were appalled by the amount of snark he had. Was he even the same person? And now you were stuck with him because he could literally die if he stopped holding your hand. You weren't sure if you could tolerate him any longer. Little did you know he was exactly the type of person you needed in your life.

Other info: Fluff, humor, sfw, enemies to lovers, some hurt/comfort and angst later, character growth, occurs after the version 3.3 Archon quest and Tighnari's story quest, female reader

Words: 2.6k

(Thanks to @paimonial-rage and @andromeda-nova-writing for beta reading!)

*****

You were in Wangshu Inn with a table set on the patio and the chatter of locals surrounded you. There were three people, bright and youthful, and yet there was unease surrounding them.

It was your fault.

Your head was heavy as if it had been immersed in water, weighing you down, powerless to lift itself off the table. A hand laid upon your forehead to check your condition and voices slurred around you as you sank deeper into the ocean. The clatter of dishes and muffled exclamations were heard from under the water as the distorted hues blurred in front of you.

Ah.

This was a dream.

You took a breath out of the water. Your legs were exhausted from treading water.

“Here,” Chongyun said. “This tea will help calm your nerves.”

It didn't work.

“You simply need to take a break,” Xingqiu said. “This book will be sure to help you relax.”

It didn't help.

“Hey,” Xiangling said. “Stop beating yourself up over something that wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong.”

A large and weighty burden was chained to your leg. You struggled to stay afloat.

“Yeah. I didn't do anything wrong,” you told yourself as you gasped for air.

Their voices blurred in a cacophony of incoherent advice. Learn a new skill, practice meditation, enjoy various forms of entertainment… all these echoed through your mind like a drum thumping a monotonous beat, perpetuating with no end, with no relief.

You tried. You really did. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe you could regain some purpose now. You could help so many people with your line of research, such as a cure that could help millions.

The water was gone.

Were you finally free?

A dark, hollow domain surrounded you, a domain void of all life. Your heartbeat began to increase and thumped harder and harder.

You ran.

You ran, yet there was none pursuing you. Your legs quickened their pace, fleeing as fast as they could. You had to escape. You had to leave now!

A petrifying shriek pierced through your flesh and bone and you covered your ears at the sound. The wails of a baby rang in your ears and sweat dripped from your brow as you ran as fast as you could, shielding yourself from its cries. The scent of smoke clung to your clothes, its smell filled your nostrils.

“It's not my fault,” you told yourself. “It's not my fault.”

Your eyes shot open as you clutched your thumping chest. Your legs lay in front of you on a sage green couch. A gentle blue and green-stained window filtered the sun's light onto your body. Your breaths were short but your eyes gradually regained their focus.

“Are you trying to determine how much pain I can tolerate?” said Wanderer.

Your left hand had gone numb due to the strength of your grip. You raised your eyes to see an indifferent man, completely unfazed by your inner turmoil. Your heartbeat had slightly decreased in intensity, but the effects of adrenaline remained in the rest of your body.

“Well? Have you finally snapped out of it?” he asked.

Your heart pounded against your chest. You tried to slow its pace as you took in small breaths of air.

“So you had a nightmare,” said Wanderer. “It's not like it was real or anything.”

Your eyes lost focus and glazed over. Yes, it wasn't real, you told yourself. It wasn't real. You laughed to yourself. “You're right, it's not real.”

Yes. Yes, it was that Archon's fault. If the war never started then all of this would've never–

Wanderer raised an eyebrow at you. You widened your eyes and quickly looked away. Yes, it wasn't your fault. It's just like what they said when you were in Liyue. You couldn't help it.

“Oh. Are you awake?” Nahida said as she entered through the door behind you. “Did you like the chazuke?”

Nahida's presence helped you slightly relax. You searched the room but didn't find any chazuke anywhere. Wanderer groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Throw it out,” he told her. Behind him on the coffee table lay a bowl with some brown-colored mush inside.

“Hold on a moment. Let me fix it for you,” she said, approaching the dish.

“You really had the audacity to use biryani for this dish?” said Wanderer.

“It was the only leftover rice I had.”

“So you soaked it in green tea?”

You peered at the bowl on the table. He was right. The biryani, with all of its meat, vegetables, and spices, was soaked in green tea. It looked gross.

“This would've worked out better if I had made it myself,” Wanderer said.

“Ah. I'm sorry,” said Nahida. “I'm not very familiar with Inazuman cuisine.”

“Hmph,” said Wanderer as he switched from holding your arm to your hand. “Come on,” he told you, tugging you up off the couch. “I've had to sit here long enough because of you.”

He led you to the next room which had a small, but comfortable kitchen. The counters were clear of any clutter and Wanderer opened a cupboard to get the materials to cook rice.

Without a word, you held onto his elbow as he worked in the kitchen. You were exhausted and felt an oncoming headache. Wanderer took the cooked rice and made some proper chazuke in a large soup bowl.

He handed you a spoon and you blinked a couple of times. “Is this for me?” you asked.

“If you don't want it, just say so,” he chided.

He set the bowl on a small table for two and sat on the chair across from you. When you remained standing, he pulled on your arm, directing you to sit. “Look, you're going to need your energy if we're both going to survive.”

Yes. Survive. He needed you to survive.

You dipped the spoon in the bowl and lifted it to your lips. Your brother used to make chazuke for you too. You rubbed your eyes and continued to eat your meal.

“Thank you,” you told Wanderer.

“Ha,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I didn't do it for your thanks.”

*****

Wanderer took you down from the Sanctuary of Surasthana and along the winding road. It had taken a while for you to regain your energy, which was concerning. Yet the only solution the two of you had was one you were adamantly against.

As the two of you passed the notice board on Treasures Street with your hand in his, he, strangely enough, paused to take a look. A poster had caught his eye, a poster for a future performance at the Zubayr Theater.

“Ha. I didn't expect them to actually do that story,” he said to himself.

“Hmm?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Which story?”

He shook his head. “It's nothing. Just some old fairy tale that was told to me when I was young. Forget about it.”

“What is it about?”

“Didn't I just tell you to forget about it?”

“But that only makes me want to know more about it,” you said.

He sighed. “Fine. I'll tell you only because I don't trust them to get all the details right. Who knows how badly they'll butcher this story.”

“C’mon,” you said. “You know how hard Nilou and the rest of them work on their performances.”

“It'll still be different,” he said. “See this?” He lifted his wrist. “The little dove on the charm bracelets Nilou gave us is actually based on the story, but it's the wrong shape. Its wings are together when they're supposed to be stretched out.”

“Alright. I get it,” you said. “So, what is it even about?”

“It's about a man…” he started off, but he began to be lost in thought.

“And…?” you nudged.

“His name was…” Wanderer clicked his tongue. “Do you want the Sumeru version or the Inazuman one?”

“The one you heard when you were young.”

“Alright. His name was Shinja. It was said that he had a cursed heart. He carried on with life like everyone else and behaved in the same way as the rest of his city.

“One day, he came across a messenger from another land. He gave him a pouch, stating it would save his life. Although Shinja was skeptical, he took it anyway. Weeks passed and he completely forgot about it. When he did open the pouch, a small, round mirror dropped into the palm of his hand.”

“Wait, this is a horror story?” you asked.

“No, it's not. Why? You scared?” he chuckled.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “I just don't find them entertaining.”

He let out a snort. He continued the story.

“Shinja saw his reflection. His face twisted in horror but he kept examining it because he couldn't believe what he saw.”

“What did he see?”

“Could you just let me finish?” he said with a glare. And with that, you finally kept your mouth closed.

“So,” he continued, “he lost the strength to keep looking and dropped the mirror. The mirror lay on the ground emitting the brightest light he had ever seen. He clutched his chest, trying to make sense of it all.

“In his reflection, thick, black chains were wrapped around his heart, squeezing the life out of it. Then, he heard a voice from the mirror. ‘Flee from this town, for all the people are under a curse. Leave, or else these chains will end your life.’”

As Wanderer continued the story, your full attention was on him. Was he like this when Katsuragi first told him the tale, full of curiosity in his eyes? No wonder they brought him to watch the play. He had learned much of the human world through it, but he couldn't recall the rest of the story, only how he felt about it. Because there was a time when he tried to forget his ring at Tatarasuna, some parts of the story had left with those memories.

You and Wanderer made your way through the city while discussing the story. As you walked by Puspa Café, there was some light chatter, but Wanderer paid no mind to it. Yet, he did recognize a couple of faces. They were part of the group of fools who had given him a birthday cake the other year. If it weren't for their craning necks, alternating between staring and whispering, you could've ignored them too.

“Who are they?” you asked him.

“Nuisances,” he said.

They continued their whispering, saying something like how they never expected him to be interested in someone. Their so-called whispers weren't very quiet. “I would've tried harder to get his attention if I knew,” said the one.

You tugged on his hand to get his attention. “Are you okay with that?” you asked.

“With what?”

You lifted up your joined hands. “If you're so popular, we're going to be the center of Akademiya gossip. “

“Let the fools talk. I don't have the patience to deal with them,” he said.

“So you are popular, huh?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I guess you're not so bad,” you said. “As long as you're not talking.”

“Ha. You're barely tolerable yourself.”

“I was kidding,” you said. “You're actually not that–”

Your knees buckled from under you and you lost your balance, falling onto him. Despite the sudden pull, he was able to hold his ground and keep you stable as well.

“Tch, what the heck just happened?” he asked.

“I…” you stared down at your leg. “I… suddenly lost feeling in my leg.”

“Are you serious now?” he complained. “I'm not carrying you all the way to Gandharva Ville. Bringing you to Nahida's was enough.”

“Was that really your first thought?” you said. “I almost got hurt!”

“Losing your energy in the morning… losing the feeling in your leg… Ugh, you're only getting worse,” he said.

Why were humans so fragile?

“It's fine,” you told him, turning away from him.

He checked your leg. Your knee was bleeding after getting scratched on the nearby rock. He pressed on the injured area before examining at your expression. You showed no response.

“You don't feel that?” he asked.

“Feel what?”

“That doesn't hurt?”

You finally looked at your knee. The bruise next to the bloody trail on your leg was becoming more visible as well. “What? Why is it–”

“We're going to Inazuma,” he stated.

“What?” Your shoulders tensed. “But I thought… I thought you didn't want to go as well?”

“Look. It's not going to be the most pleasant experience for me either. But at this rate, I'm going to keep draining your life as if I were a delusion.”

Your face changed color, just like it did after your nightmare.

“I can't…” you muttered, the wind carrying the rest of your words.

“What?” he asked.

“I can't go back.”

He sighed. “You're getting weaker and weaker. Do you think I want to keep draining the energy out of you? And you even lost the feeling in your leg.”

“No,” you said. “I can't go.”

“Are you seriously going to keep being stubborn? Don't you see what this is doing to you?”

“No! Stop it!”

He grabbed your chin. “Look at me! You can't keep–”

“Let go of me!”

*****

Wanderer's eyelids were heavy as he strained to open them. Everything was blurry in front of him. The road was hard on his back and cold to the touch as he lay in the middle of Treasure Street. You clutched his hand as you sobbed over him, frequently lifting a hand to wipe tears from both your eyes.

“I'm sorry,” you cried, sniffing your snot back up your nose as tears soaked your cheeks. “I'm sorry. I'll go to Inazuma,” you pleaded with a tremble in your voice. “Please just wake up.”

From the corner of his eye, people had stopped to stare and there was a quiet murmur in the area. The sun was still in the same position, but from your panic, he wondered for how long he had been unconscious. It could've only been ten minutes.

“Please.” Your voice cracked. “This can't be happening. Not again. Please.”

Again? Ha. This was the first time he had been unconscious while you were holding him.

“I'll go to Inazuma, okay?” you continued, not realizing he was awake. “Please. Please just wake up. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

His finger twitched. He could move again. “What's with your excessive crying?” he said, getting his back off of the road. Just why were you so traumatised by this? “I'm fine–”

Your arms clung around him. “You're alive! Thank goodness you're alive.” Yet your tears didn't stop and only continued to flow.

Wanderer clicked his tongue after being stunned from your sudden embrace. What was he supposed to do with… this? But it was fine, he told himself. You weren't like family as the guys at Tatarasuna were. You weren't at the same level as them.

A hug didn't matter.

Yet he didn't lift his arms to comfort you. It wasn't because the idea appalled him; no, you were simply a woman who'd be here one moment and gone the next if you weren't stuck together.

You wiped your eyes once more and tried to fix the look on your face. Those tears enforced his belief all along, one that he carried for centuries.

It was better to remain alone and to keep it that way.

*****

Thanks for reading and if you take the time to leave a comment, I appreciate them so much!

If you want to be tagged for future chapters, you can use this Google form or just let me know.

#wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #wanderer #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #wanderer fluff #wanderer angst #wanderer series #genshin impact series #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #wanderer fanfic #scaramouche fanfic #genshin angst

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collidescopeeyes · 5 months ago

Note

Hey so I'm kind of in a tm-not-so-good place right now, so if possible can I get a Heartsteel Aphelios x reader who's dealing with a narcissistic/emotionally abusive parent? Or if possible it's Aphelios and their S/O but they also have the rest of the Heartsteel members and Alune to help them through it. As you can see by the request, I'm dealing with this right now and i kinda need the comfort, thank you!

As someone whose dealt with far too much of that myself recently, my heart goes out to you anon ❤️ hope things get easier soon.

---

You have ‘hey, are you awake?’ typed into the chatbox, thumb hovering indecisively over the send button, for a good fifteen minutes before Aphelios messages you. You aren't expecting it–it’s almost midnight, and Phel might be a night owl, but he also has a job. Part of the reason you'd been reluctant to text him–he’s busy, and you'd hate to wake him.

‘You okay?’ the text reads. You spend a moment wondering why he'd ask that, and then realize if he was texting you this late at night he also would have seen your typing notification hovering there for god knows how long. Which also means pretending you're fine is probably out of the picture as well–even if he didn't know you were visiting your parents this weekend, he's always been had a knack for seeing straight through you. May as well be honest, then.

‘not really tbh’ you type back. ‘like I'm fine I'm just…….blehhh. y'know.’

‘Want company?’ comes the immediate reply, because Phel puts sugar to shame. Too sweet for his own good, probably, because he really shouldn't be driving around at fuck o’clock at night to keep you company– ‘I missed you :(‘ comes the follow up text, neatly defeating the argument you were just building up in your head.

‘...can I come over?’ you ask anyway. ‘i don't really want to be at home right now’

‘ofc. I'm already putting my shoes on, I'll see you soon ❤️’

You send a heart back, click your phone off, and stare blankly up at the fading afterimage of the bright screen against your dark ceiling. You have no idea what time you'd gotten home, but you'd had about enough energy to crawl into bed and not much else. As such, you're pretty much still dressed, plus you're pretty sure you have clean clothes at Phel’s place. Even if you didn't, you'd steal one of his shirts to sleep in and Alune would have something to lend you in the morning. You're pretty sure she likes dressing you up, or at least, she has a habit of leveraging her industry connections to get amazing deals on clothes she just happens to think you'd look cute in. Kayn likes to joke she's trying to steal you away from Aphelios.

A knock on your front door startles you to attention, followed by jingling keys as Phel lets himself in. How long had you been zoning out for? He lived like fifteen minutes away, and it felt like it'd barely been five. You drag yourself out of bed as he pushes open your bedroom door, and even in the dim light from the street lamp outside your window you see him smile when he sees you. Immediately, you're wrapped up in a hug, and you feel him press a kiss to your hairline. The anxious knot that's been in your chest ever since you left this weekend eases a little, and you clutch at his hoodie trying to absorb that feeling. He smells like fresh laundry and comfort and home.

“...hi,” you offer after a moment, your voice slightly muffled from where you're pressing your face into his chest. You lean back, reaching over to fumble with your lamp so you can actually see him. “You got here faster than I thought, sorry.”

He shrugs. “I was at Yone’s, the bands having a movie night,” he signs. “We can join them, if you're feeling up for it, or we can just go back to mine and chill. It's up to you.”

You blink up at him. “What movie?”

“The mummy series,” he signs. “Ez is getting super offended, it's really funny.”

You huff a laugh. “That sounds…perfect, actually. You're sure nobody will mind?”

He waves a hand at you. “Of course not, the guys love you.” A smile curves your lips, and he pauses, a fond look in his eye before he ducks his head to press a kiss to your lips. “Not that I wouldn't be happy to monopolize you, but, y'know.”

You laugh. “I think Alune would have words about that.”

He shrugs. “Gotta flex my older brother privileges sometime. You good to go?”

You glance at your still unpacked bag, then nod–that was a tomorrow problem. Maybe the day after. His car is parked outside, still warm from the drive over–he must've cranked the heater for you, because left to his own devices Aphelios wouldn't feel the need for a jacket in a walk in freezer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He signs as you pull out onto the quiet streets, one hand on the wheel.

You sigh deeply. “It's…nothing new, and I probably should've expected this because this is what always happens, but…I dunno, I was hoping we could have a mature conversation this time? But no, same old song and dance. Nothing is ever their fault, and if I get them to stop deflecting long enough to actually admit they did something wrong, I must only be bringing it up because I'm an terrible daughter who's just trying to hurt them, and then the whole thing turns into a big confrontation when all I wanted was…I dunno, some acknowledgement that ‘hey, that was a fucked up thing I did,’” you gesture vaguely at the dashboard, frustrated, and then deflate with a defeated sigh. He reaches over and squeezes your hand in wordless comfort. You offer him a weak smile. “It's fine. I'll be fine. It's just…exhausting, you know?"

He nods, and with a final squeeze you let his hand go so he can sign “I'm sorry. It's not fair, and you deserve better.” He glances at you, brow pulled together in worry. “If you ever need anything, comfort or company or help, I'm here for you. We all are. Doesn't matter how late it is or how far away you are, I'll come running.”

You probably shouldn't try to kiss him while he's driving. “Thanks,” you say instead, voice soft. “I…can't tell you how much that means to me.”

He smiles, but if he has a reply his hands are occupied pulling into Yone’s driveway. Still, he's not driving anymore, so that makes it fair game to lean across the console to kiss the life out of him.

--Right up until you hear Yone's door open. You break apart, only to see Alune standing on the doorstep, hands on her hips. She signs something too fast for you to catch in the dim streetlight, and then flounces back inside. Phel laughs, and you look at him curiously. “She called me an attention hog,” he signs, chuckling.

You laugh. “Well, we better not keep her waiting.”

The sound of the movie filters in as you enter the house and make your way to the living room, coupled with familiar voices and laughter. “--and codex style books weren't even invented until the Roman Empire!” Ezreal is arguing as you walk in, gesturing at the screen animatedly. “It would’ve been a papyrus scroll!” A chorus of greetings sounds over the tail end of his sentence, apparently dismissing what's no doubt the tail end of a long rant. They're scattered around the room–Alune and Ezreal on the long couch, K'Sante and Yone in the twin armchairs on either side, Sett lounging on the beanbag in the corner and Kayn laying directly on the carpeted floor, ankles crossed on the edge of the couch and watching the movie upside-down.

“He's been going on like this the whole time,” Sett informs you by way of greeting, grinning.

“Someone has to hold Hollywood accountable for their blatant disregard for historical accuracy!” Ezreal insists hotly, before fixing you with a pleading look. “Back me up here, you think papyrus scrolls are cool, right?”

“Pretty cool, yeah,” you agree. Alune animatedly gestures you over to two free spaces on the couch with a beaming grin, which you have no doubt she pulled rank to acquire. Kayn offers you a wave as you step over him.

“I saved some snacks,” she whispers as you settle by her side, Phel on your other. True to her word, she has a bowl of chips in one hand and a punnet of chocolate dipped strawberries in the other. Ezreal tries to sneak one of the latter while she's distracted, only for her to whip her head around and give him a narrow eyed look, to which he immediately begins to feign stretching instead.

“How was your trip?” Yone asks. You must make a face, because he frowns. “Ah. My condolences. Family matters are often... uniquely troubling."

You wince. “It was…not great, yeah. I don't...really want to get into it.”

“I'm just putting this out there, but if you want someone vanished you can just say the word, I know a guy,” Kayn offers from the floor.

You stifle a laugh. “Are you the guy?”

“Me or one of my siblings,” he qualifies. “Depends, how many people you want killed?”

“You cannot keep threatening to sic your family members on people you don't like simply because your father teaches all his foster children martial arts,” K'Sante points out dryly.

“It's not just because of that,” Kayn argues. “It's part of the pact–everyone gets one favor, no questions asked, everybody has to chip in if they can."

“And you…haven't used yours yet?” Yone asks skeptically.

“Nope,” Kayn says cheerfully. “I covered up my fuckups and achieved my numerous impressive exploits by my own merits, thank you.”

“I do not need anyone killed,” you confirm.

“Yet,” Ezreal corrects sagely, only to interrupt himself with an aghast gasp. “He's reading hieroglyphs in the wrong direction!” he cries, pointing accusingly at the screen. Phel puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, and like this–snuggled up with him, surrounded by your friends and terrible movie–it was suddenly a lot easier to believe everything was going to be okay.

#league of legends x reader #league x reader #leauge of legends #reader fic #x reader #reader #aphelios lol #aphelios x reader #heartsteel

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littlexscarletxwitch · 1 year ago

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝘆

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, this was based on a true story, not the flo part but the baby fever part lol, establish relationship, baby talk, flo self doubting, r babbling but like in a cute type of way (?), also billie's mention :)

warning(s): idk is wanting to have kids a warning (lol), baby talk (?), grammatical error, unedited

word count: 1.3k

note: You wanna know what's crazy? I'm not sure if I want to be a mother, but like the baby fever sometimes kicks in, specially since I have two little brothers and I'm like a second mother to them (they actually have told me so). But I don't know... Anyway, I'm not native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you all enjoy! Lots of love, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

You remembered when all those new feelings had started: you were sitting across from her, getting lost in her forest green eyes, you didn't feel someone nudging your leg until that said someone screamed out at you.

"Jesus, you scared me," you smiled at the little toddler as you heard Florence's chuckle.

The little girl, who seemed to be only two years old, babbled some incomprehensible words at you. She only got cutter as you watched her face shift into a stern look. It appeared as she was trying to tell you something quite important.

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it," you played along, accepting what you thought was an apology.

"Are you lost, little missy?" Florence said, getting her attention.

The toddler just looked at her and broke into laughter, which caused Florence to smile at her.

"What's so funny about me, huh? she playfully asked her, and the two year old just laughed even harder.

"I think it's your voice," you chucked.

"My voice is not funny," she pretended to be hurt, her hand clutching her chest.

"Well, it is to her," you couldn't hold your own laughter anymore as the tiny human kept on laughing.

“Oh, my God. She’s laughing at my voice.”

“Oh, thank goddess. You scared me to death, Charlie,” a young blonde woman said, getting closer to your table, and bringing the little girl to her chest once she was close enough. “I’m so sorry, she’s just learned how to walk and she likes it,” the woman joked.

“It’s okay, no problem, we were just chatting,” Florence reassured her with a smile.

As if wanting to be part of the conversation Charlie bubbled out some words.

“She’s so cute,” you scrunched your nose at her, making her laugh.

“Okay, say goodbye, Charlie,” Charlie’s mum moved her little hand around, waving at the two of you, as Charlie mumbled what you thought was a goodbye.

“Bye, Charlie,” the both of you said, smiling at the two year old.

[...]

Ever since that night you hadn’t stopped thinking about Charlie. Well, not Charlie actually, that would be creepy, but the idea of kids. Florence looked so happy the few seconds she shared with Charlie, you felt like your heart could jump out of your chest just by thinking of that night.

You had never thought about kids before that, sure, sometimes, but it was more like a second thought, like something far away from your reach, unlikely to ever happen. And after that night it became your only thought.

You found yourself watching TikToks about babies doing baby stuff, or maybe when taking a walk your eyes would linger on those couples pushing a trolley. Sometimes you would even look online for baby clothes and every time you couldn't help but to think it was the cutest thing ever. It also didn’t help the fact that your hormones would kick in and they would intensify all these feelings up to a hundred.

Florence, of course, didn’t notice how much you wanted a baby until you started to show her every baby picture you could find, every video you had watched, every kid you pointed out when the two of you went out on dates. So she started counting all the times you brought up that subject, by the third week she had lost count.

Now, there you were, lying on the couch, with your phone on your hand, scrolling down TikTok, watching videos of babies. She found it cute, fun even, because you wouldn't dare to actually spill the words out, too scared of what she would say.

“Y/n, baby, is everything okay?” she broke the silence, taking a seat next to you.

“Yeah, I’m just on those days,” you mumbled.

Which was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. You had craved a baby before, during and long after your period. It didn’t matter, it was a thought that would cross your mind all the time, nonstop.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you something?”

You nodded, “It’s just the hormones. You know how it is, the moodswing,” you chuckled.

“Are you watching those baby videos again?” she raised a brow at you, there was a tint of smug in her tone.

“Yeah…” you frowned. “Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you are always watching those,” she teased, wanting for you to finally come clean.

“I am?” you asked, pretending to be unaware of that fact.

“Yes, missy,” she smiled at you.

‘Missy’, it only reminded you of Charlie and it made the whole thing even worse.

You huffed, “I guess I didn’t notice.”

“Y/n, is there something you want to talk about?”

“What’s there to talk about?” she could tell you were frustrated.

“Well, I’m not sure but—.”

“What's there to talk about, huh?” there was not a trace of anger in your words, it felt more like sadness. “That I would like a mini you running around the house, chasing after Billie?” the dog raised her head, thinking you had called out to her. “Because yes I would love that.”

“Y/n, I—,” her smug attitude dropped to the floor as she realised that there was no turning back now.

“I can’t stop thinking about Charlie, how soft and careful you were with her. You were on cloud nine, Flo, I could tell,” you sniffed, battling the tears. “And I want that… I want that for you and me, for us.”

“I understand, honey. I can see how much you want that,” she caressed your cheek. “But I’m not—.”

“No, please don’t say ‘but’. I can take a ‘maybe’, just not a ‘but’,” you eyes were filled with tears and Florence felt like her heart was going to break any second now. She hated to be the reason why you were crying.

“No, no, no, it’s not that I don’t want that. I do, I just don't want to be that kind of parent who’s always working, I don’t want to miss their first steps, their first words, I want to be there for them every step of the way,” she breathed out, as if she had been holding back for weeks.

Which she actually had. Ever since she added two plus two and realised you actually wanted a baby, all these self doubt and anxiety and worry got a hold on her.

“Flo, please, I know we can make it work. I won’t let that happen, I promise. You are not getting out of this whole motherhood thing,” you joked, making her chuckled. “Besides, you had Charlie giggling and all happy, I think you got this.”

“Charlie was with us for like three minutes at most,” Florence, playfully, rolled her eyes at you.

“Okay, you are right. But I know in my heart that you are going to be a great momma,” you grabbed her hands, taking them to your lips to kiss them.

“Y/n…”

“I get it, Flor. It’s scary, we are talking about an actual human being—.”

“Y/n…”

“But if anyone can do this, then it’s us—.”

“Y/n…”

“We could watch some films, or maybe read some books. I bet my mum still has that book about being a first time mother—”.

“Y/n…”

“We can even take some classes, they teach you everything nowadays and—”.

“Y/n!” this time Florence shook your shoulders trying to get your attention.

“Will you at least think about it? I know it’s a big decision and—”.

“Will you please let me talk?” she said with a tint of amusement.

“Right, sorry,” you smiled.

“You had me at ‘You are not getting out of this whole motherhood thing’,” she smiled back.

“Does that mean…?” you left the question in the air, waiting for her to say it.

“Yeah, let’s make a baby. Shall we?” she asked, a grin formed on her face before she pecked your lips.

“Oh, my god!” you couldn't hold back your smile anymore. “Yes! Yes, we shall,” you threw yourself at her, leaving kisses all over her face.

“Okay, then let’s get down to business,” she said in between chuckles.

“Oh, you mean right now?”

“I thought you… I mean… if you don’t want to then—,” she was about to get up from the couch.

“No!,” you yelled, making her laugh. “Come back here, you twat.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh fluff #littlexscarletxwitch's fic

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starboyyoongi · 7 months ago

Text

detangled. ateez au

⭑ summary: unable to a set an appointment with your favorite braider, your roommates decide to step in and help. the problem, though? the three of you had absolutely no idea how to braid—at all.

or, in which you, hongjoong, and wooyoung (damn near) fail at doing your braids at home.

⭑ pairing: kim hongjoong x jung wooyoung x choi san x black fem!reader

⭑ warnings/tags: cursing, lots of confusion, questionable hair parting skills, joong and woo bickering, use of nicknames (“ji” and “mama”), play fighting

⭑ notes: in light of me stressing over getting my braids done, i decided to write something a little light hearted and funny about the boys trying to help reader do her braids. i also thought that this would be a cute way to kick off the series? idk but i hope that you guys enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! x

and then there were nine series masterlist

YOU ALWAYS PRIDED yourself on being able to figure things out relatively quickly especially when it came to others. it’s how you ended up becoming the unofficial mom of the group a couple of years ago. the boys, and just about anybody who knew you, knew that they could always depend on you to come up with a solution.

when it came to yourself, however, things were… different.

it was like all of your problem solving skills went out of the window and your body became riddled with anxiety. you didn’t know what to do when it came to solving your own problems. sure, you could ask someone else for help, but why would you want to run the risk of being looked at as stupid or incompetent? it was a silly thing to worry about, yes, but you couldn’t help it.

if anyone was going to come up with a solution to your problems it was going to be you—plain and simple.

however, your current problem was starting to feel more and more like something you couldn’t do by yourself. as you stared at the pieces of braiding hair strewn out in front of you, you wondered why you thought that this would be a good idea. while you knew how to manage your natural hair and do a couple of plaits or twists whenever it was necessary, you were by no means a braider.

that was something reserved for either your mom or your braiding lady who you had been loyal to for the last four years. speaking of said woman, she was the reason why you were in this mess to begin with. she was booked solid for the next few weeks which meant that any plans to get your hair done was basically thrown out of the window.

you were desperate, though, and instead of finding someone else to do it and risking your hair being botched you decided to do it yourself. you now recognized that in theory this sounded like a good idea. you felt so confident as you picked out your hair color and browsed the hair beads section in the beauty supply. you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face as the cashier rang your items up and you thought about how cute your hair was going to look.

but that was in theory.

in reality, you were a confused mess standing in the middle of your room clutching your phone in one hand and a comb in the other. you didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin and it was stressful to say the least. just as you began typing something in tiktok’s search bar, you heard a knock at your bedroom door followed by hongjoong saying your name in a sing song kind of tone.

“jia, babe, have you seen my— oh. what’s, um… what’s going on here?” hongjoong asked.

you peaked up at him with a fake smile and held your comb up as you said, “nothing. just getting ready to do my hair.”

hongjoong raised an eyebrow in confusion. “okay… so what’s with all of the pieces of hair on your bed? and why is your hair still up?”

“because i’m just getting started.”

“by looking at your phone all anxious and whatnot?”

“ugh. okay, fine,” you sighed. “i don’t know what i’m doing, joong. i thought that doing my own braids was going to be easy, but i completely underestimated things.”

“do you need some help?” hongjoong asked.

you opened your mouth to say no, but then you hesitated. now really wasn’t the time to be picky and deny any help that was offered to you. because again, braiding your hair wasn’t your forte. and if you could get an extra pair of hands to get the job done then so be it.

you nodded in response and watched as hongjoong smiled at you before loudly calling wooyoung’s name. it took a few seconds, but soon your other roommate was popping his head into your door frame and asking, “what’s up? everything okay?”

“yeah, but are you busy right now? jia needs our help doing her hair” hongjoong explained.

“no, no, i’m not doing anything right now,” wooyoung smiled. “however, i’ve never done hair before so i’m not sure how this is going to turn out…”

“don’t worry. i have a bunch of tutorials in a little playlist i created and we have all the supplies that we’ll need,” you said half reassuringly. you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince them or yourself. “so we should be okay.”

right?

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

you guys were in fact not okay.

twenty minutes later, the three of you found yourselves situated in front of your mirror trying to follow along a hair parting video you found on youtube. the video was pretty straightforward to you, but the same couldn’t be said for wooyoung and hongjoong. where wooyoung was confused about how big to make the parts, hongjoong was confused as to why so many were needed in the first place.

“the more parts, the more braids, joongie,” you tried to explain, but to no avail.

hongjoong scrunched up his face in confusion as he said, “yeah, but, like… won’t it be too much hair? and will parting your hair hurt?”

“why would it hurt, hongjoong?” wooyoung huffed out with an eye roll. “clearly jia’s hair has been parted before and it’s never hurt her. are you stupid?”

“you don’t know even know how to part her hair to begin with!”

“neither do you, fuck face!”

“oh, fuck yo—”

“okay!” you said loudly as you paused the video. “clearly this is getting out of hand. how about one of you work on pre parting my hair for now? what do you say, wooyoung?”

at the mention of his name, wooyoung started to nervously laugh. he wanted to say no so, so bad, but he couldn’t. he had such a big soft spot for you that saying no felt like it was impossible. hell, he doesn’t even think that he’s ever told you no before and he wasn’t about to start now.

so with a nod of determination, he positioned himself behind you, comb in hand. your hair had already been blow dried and taken out of the messy ponytail that you had it in earlier. all that was left now was for your hair to be parted then braided.

“ready, woo?” you asked.

he gave a thumbs up.

“ready.”

hongjoong watched as his (clearly nervous) friend began to part your hair. for a minute, it felt like things were going well. wooyoung had managed to part a straight line across for the first row before starting on the square parts. everything seemed fine until hongjoong realized that the squares were all different sizes.

he stifled a giggle as he looked away, not wanting to draw attention to himself. but you had noticed and asked what he was laughing at.

“nothing, babes,” hongjoong replied. “just looking at woo’s, um… squares is all.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “why’d you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“you know. like something was wrong with the squares or something.”

“pfft, no. there’s nothing wrong with the squares…”

“okay, good.”

“…except for the the fact that they’re different sizes and look goofy from this angle. but aside from that, everything’s fine.”

“what?!” you screeched out, immediately twisting your neck to try and see what wooyoung was doing.

“i thought that i was doing a good job! they look fine to me, ji, i swear—” wooyoung tried to explain.

you wanted to believe him.

you really, really did, but one glimpse of the back of your head told you otherwise. you sighed and told wooyoung and hongjoong to switch. if hongjoong was just as nervous to part your hair he didn’t show it. you sat still as you felt the end of your rat tail comb glide through your hair once more.

you couldn’t see it, but hongjoong had somewhat managed to fix wooyoung’s square partings. once everything looked okay to him, he moved on to start making the second row of squares. wooyoung had been standing beside him watching closely the entire time without saying a word. once again, it started to feel like some progress was being made. if hongjoong could just get through parting your hair then—

“your parting is ugly as shit, joong.”

hongjoong threw wooyoung a nasty glare before he glanced at you in the mirror and gave you a very unconvincing smile.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, jia. the parting looks great! woo’s just being a fucking hater” hongjoong stated, but you didn’t miss the way that his voice faltered at the end. that was all that you needed to shoo him away and twist and turn your neck in the mirror once more to see the damage.

okay, so maybe wooyoung was right—hongjoong’s parting was definitely on the weird looking side. you couldn’t deny it no matter how hard you wanted to.

you sighed for what seemed like the nth time that day. if you guys couldn’t even get the parting right, then there was no telling what the actual braiding process was going to be like.

you started to weigh your options.

on one hand, you could forego the entire thing and style your natural hair for the next few weeks instead. there were quite a few styles that you had been meaning to try on pinterest anyways and your hair was finally long enough for some of them. the only downside was your lack of patience and sort of laziness when it came to doing your hair. a cute slick backed hairstyle that was meant for two days could easily turn into a three week old, caked up gel mess on your head.

on the other hand, you could continue to go through with the braiding process. you had more than enough hands to help and your best friends didn’t seem to mind redoing anything for the sake of wanting your hair to look good. plus, you had more than enough tutorials on deck for practically every part of the braiding process. the downside, though? you were taking a huge risk with your hair being botched—the one thing that you had been trying to avoid this entire time. as much as you loved your best friends, they weren’t experienced braiders and it would (most likely) show.

in other words, you were fucked.

sort of.

kind of.

you groaned in frustration before you spun around in your seat to face wooyoung and hongjoong. you looked up at them, eyebrows furrowed as you said, “guys, i don’t think that this is working.”

“you think?” wooyoung immediately deadpanned.

hongjoong gave him a nasty glare before he nudged him rather painfully in his side. he ignored wooyoung’s whines for help as he asked you, “what do you want to do then? should we keep going or…?”

you shrugged in response.

hongjoong hummed as he started to wrack his brain for a solution. it had become apparent to him over the last hour or so that the three of you were not cut out to braid hair whatsoever. the whole thing was a bad idea from the jump and hongjoong knew that. but he was so desperate to help you out that he was willing to ignore the possibility of the whole thing falling apart.

now, though, as he stared at the uneven parts in your hair and the frustrated look on your face, he felt bad—awful even. there had to be a way to fix things. you guys couldn’t give up just yet.

“what if—” hongjoong started, but wooyoung quickly cut him off.

“san. we should ask san.” wooyoung said.

“what? san?” you said in a confused tone.

“yeah, san,” wooyoung said with a shake of his head. “he has a little more experience with braiding hair and could probably follow the videos better than we can.”

you chewed at your bottom lip as you thought the sudden suggestion over. you had no idea how wooyoung even knew that san could braid hair in the first place, but you weren’t in a position to really question it. either you agreed to ask for his help or you called it a day and stuck to hiding your hair under a bonnet for the next few weeks.

“okay,” you agreed. “call sannie and ask, but you better not be lying to me, woo. or else i’ll beat your ass.”

“so will i!” hongjoong chimed in.

“but you just hit me! what the fuck, joong,” wooyoung complained as his fingers started to fly across his dimly lit screen. just as he finished sending the text and was about to lock his phone, he saw the three little bubbles pop up. they disappeared for a second before wooyoung’s phone buzzed with san’s response.

sanieee 🕺

LMFAOOO of course you two dumbasses messed up

tell ji i’ll be up in a few 😁

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

seven hours.

it had taken you and san (with occasional help from wooyoung and hongjoong) seven hours to braid your hair with an additional twenty minutes spent adding beads at the end. that part would have taken less time, but hongjoong had no idea how to add them and kept dropping the beads every five seconds.

by the time you guys had finished both braiding and beading your hair, your fingers and arms were in pain. san was pretty sure that his fingers had gotten cramped up and you had a feeling that you’d be finding braiding hair and beads in odd places for the next few days.

the boys watched as you kept turning in the mirror to see your hair, the grin on your face growing wider with each turn. you swung your small, long pink and red braids from side to side as you took a quick ten second video of yourself. you tilted your phone down slightly and zoomed in a little on the clear and black beads that adorned the ends of your hair. simply put, your hair was fucking stunning.

you took a few more videos and pictures before you finally set your phone down to work on your edges. as you rummaged through your drawer for your edge brush, you caught san’s gaze in the mirror. just as you were about to thank him for the millionth time in a row, you suddenly remembered what wooyoung had said earlier.

“he has a little more experience with braiding hair and could probably follow the instructions better than us.”

dipping your brush into the half empty jar of edge control, you called out san’s name. he tore his gaze away from hongjoong to look at you as he answered, “yes, ji?”

“a little birdy here tells me that apparently you,” you started as you pointed your edge brush in his direction. “know how to braid hair. i’ve known you for how many years now and i’m just now finding out about this?”

“oh. um…” san ran a hand through his hair as he laughed, slightly taken aback by your question. beside him, wooyoung and hongjoong were watching you two and giggling like two little kids.

“well, i wouldn’t say that i know how to braid. i only know how to do plaits and stuff, you know? basic shit” he said.

you turned around to face him and raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

“you just braided my entire head and you gon’ sit up here and tell me that you only know how to do ‘plaits’? and ‘basic shit’?” you questioned, not entirely convinced by his answer.

“but it’s true though?” san said with a a shrug of his shoulders. “and to be fair, i was just following along and being patient. braiding isn’t that hard to do.”

“okay, now you’re just being a show off, dude” hongjoong muttered with a roll of his eyes.

you barely managed to stifle your giggles as san suddenly shoved hongjoong, causing him to fall off of your bed and land on the floor with a loud thud. it took all of five seconds for hongjoong to get back up and lunge at san. you watched as the two men rolled around your bed play fighting with one another and messing up your neatly spread bed in the process.

you shook your head and turned back to your mirror to finish doing your edges. you could hear wooyoung in the background repeatedly yelling out “fight! fight!” and hongjoong and san giggling loudly. as you finished fixing your baby hairs and putting your things back, you couldn’t help but stare at all three of them in your mirror’s reflection and smile.

you didn’t realize how long you had been smiling and looking at them, though until wooyoung asked in a teasing tone, “uh oh. what’s got you smiling so hard, mama?”

“you guys, duh. although,” you squinted your eyes at them a little. “you look like a bunch of idiots right now play fighting on my bed and stuff.”

“yeah, but we’re your idiots and you love us, so…” wooyoung joked with a toothy grin as he dragged out the ‘o.’

you rolled your eyes at him with a dramatic sigh, but you didn’t disagree.

“of course i do. i’ll always love you guys. forever?”

“and always, mama.”

#ateez au #choi san #kim hongjoong #jung wooyoung #ateez x black reader #ateez x reader #black reader

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kimakento · 25 days ago

Text

LOVE CUES

synopsis: being stuck on the side of the road while it’s raining isn’t an ideal situation to be in, that is if you don’t get to meet a cute barista in the coffee shop across from you. ⌙ 1.5k

pairing: barista!asakura jo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

tags: coffee shop!au, jo’s teased throughout, he’s just really cute!, loserish!jo, [no warnings except language]

author’s note: this is for the loser jo truthers (aka me) heres my gift to lunes for the new years !

a driver’s license definitely would’ve come in handy right about now; but that thought still didn’t make you want to kill byun euijoo any less. what kind of person promises their friend a ride while caught in horrible rain but then backtracks when needed most?

clutching your handbag closer, you sighed while slinking back into the slightly-uncomfortable bench at the bus shelter you took cover under. there was no noise except for the sound of droplets padding against the concrete pavement aggressively — which you took as background noise — and the whirring of the occasional car passing by. a frown tugged at your lips as the cold and harsh december wind bit at your body.

curse you for only caring about a perfect outfit instead of bringing a winter coat.

you really needed to find somewhere to go. glancing around through the heavy rainfall, you spotted a quaint building, only one floor high; a cafe, you had read from the sign. it stood across the road, barely visible through the relentless droplets of rain. the lights of the coffee shop were on and there was a man — you figured by the tall stature — a mop in his hand while cleaning the floor.

surely, you could reach it without getting too wet, you thought to yourself. after collecting your things, you decided to beeline it to the coffee shop.

ignoring the raindrops falling against your skin, you only wrapped your arms around your torso in an attempt to combat the cold whilst crossing the wet street. when you stepped inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy, almost like a hug. there was an apparent smell of coffee beans, water dripping from your clothes and grouping into small puddles onto the shining floor.

the tall man you’d spotted from earlier had his apron-tied back turned to you; headphones on and clearly swaying to whatever he was listening to. you could only watch as a puddle grew beneath your boots before being caught by surprise when he whirled towards you, his body jolting in shock.

crimson painted his cheeks when he registered your presence.

you spoke up. “so sorry for scaring you, it’s just that it was….” using your finger, you gestured to the rain. as you trailed off, you took in the sight of the worker. he was cute. so cute. and tall.

very much your type. oh, you were so doomed.

“you’re drenched! oh my gosh.” those were the only words that left his parted lips before disappearing through a door behind the counter.

“oh.” you let out a sigh in confusion, standing there awkwardly; probably akin to a wet cat.

but before you could glance around any more, the now-headphoneless man returned, with something — a towel, you believed — in hand.

a weak smile tugged at his pretty lips as he handed it to you. “here! sorry for making you wait long….” a hand went up to rub the nape of his neck in embarrassment. “please, sit down.” he said, guiding you to the table closest to the door and pulling a chair.

once you were seated, you wrapped the towel around your body tightly.

“thank you so much for the towel….” you trailed off, squinting your eyes to try and read the letters on the nametag pinned to his apron. “jo! i really needed it.”

at the sound of his name, jo averted his gaze to his shoes. a pretty girl saying his name aloud was too much for his heart. he was so hopeless.

“u-uh, of course..” he mumbled out.

seconds later, his eyes returned to yours curiously. “coffee or hot chocolate?”

“huh?” your teeth chattered as you spoke.

“you’re shivering. a hot drink is good for the cold, you know. it’s easy to get sick, especially in this weather.” his words came out slowly, but you could still feel the warmth in his tone.

why did this barista have to be so cute? the thought repeated in your mind.

“in that case, a hot chocolate would be ideal.” you replied back, equally soft. “how much is it?”

“oh no! i can’t let you pay. consider it on the house!” jo smiled, to which you thought was the most adorable thing ever.

“really? i can’t even begin to thank you, you’re so kind.”

“just trying to help.” he tried to reply nonchalantly.

but that was a lie; he thought you were so pretty. the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. jo was anything but nonchalant around pretty girls.

the towel had helped relieve the uncomfortable feeling of damp clothes sticking to your bare skin, you were beginning to feel warmer now. your gaze followed the barista as he returned to the counter.

“one hot chocolate coming up.” he said before working the machines.

you scrolled on your phone while you waited, replying to the copious amounts of apology texts send by euijoo; sighing in annoyance before replying. too immersed in the conversation, you hadn’t realised that jo had already finished and was currently standing over you.

“oh, sorry.” you apologised and slipped your phone back into your handbag, watching as he set the steaming cup of hot chocolate and another plate — a croissant that you obviously didn’t order — down.

you smiled at his thoughtfulness. “no way i’m eating it for free. how much for the croissant?”

“it’s on the house too, don’t worry.” he shot you a small smile back, fixing the pencil behind his ear.

“no, really.” you insisted once again.

the barista shook his head firmly. “it’s the least i can do. you looked hungry.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in faux confusion at the last part.

“u-uh… i didn’t mean it like that. you don’t look hungry — fuck. you look really pretty if anything. i can’t believe i said that.” he fiddled with his hands, refusing to meet your gaze.

when you noticed his ears got redder at every word, you let out a giggle. “it’s fine, i got what you were trying to say.”

“oh, that’s good then.”

“thank you again. i really thought i was going to freeze out there, you know. one of my friends canceled on me.”

raising the croissant to your parted lips, you took a big bite, savouring the taste.

“did you make this? it’s really good!” you covered your mouth as you spoke, eyes glistening. and jo couldn’t help but be enamoured with you more in that exact moment.

shyly, he nodded.

“i sometimes help out with the baking. i’m really glad you like it…” he trailed off, looking at you with an expectant expression painting his face.

that was when you realised he was still standing in front of you and began to scramble to take your belongings off of the chair in front of you, gesturing to it kindly.

”no, i couldn’t.” he said, moving his hands around. “i… i have to work anyways.”

you pinched the bridge of your nose. “you’re not gonna make me beg, are you? please. i could really use the company.” you smiled up at him.

after a few seconds, he relented, pulling the chair and plopping down. his posture was stiff; shoulders fixed and hands beneath the table — probably clasped together, you thought.

was he always this awkward around new people? it was cute.

“jo, if you keep staring, i’m gonna think there’s something on my face.”

“it’s just that…. you’re really pretty.”

it was your turn to freeze, face heating up. you never expected him to be that straightforward.

“i think you are too…” you said, hurriedly taking a sip of the forgotten hot chocolate in embarrassment. however, the second it reached your tongue, it burned. letting out a small yelp, you placed the cup onto the table once again, covering your face more.

the man scrambled up, reaching over and cupping your face. “are you okay?” he asked hurriedly, his voice more louder than it’d ever been. jo moved your chin up as concern filled his eyes. “i should’ve warned you.”

you learned something about jo at that moment. his hands were surprisingly warm.

and that he smelled good.

“that was my fault. it’s hot chocolate after all.”

you gazed up at him, mesmerised. he was really more handsome up close. it was your peering eyes that snapped him back, jo snatched back his hands apologetically, obviously embarrassed.

“sorry, it’s just that i—” he started.

you cut him off quickly, very much flattered with his rambling. “could i have your number?”

“huh…? oh.”

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” you assured.

“no, i want to!”

as you passed your phone to him, he gave another small smile before inputting the digits. shortly after receiving it back, you heard a ping.

it was euijoo.

a frown tugged at your lips. “i have to go. my ride is here.” you announced sadly.

grabbing your stuff, you got up.

“thank you for the free food, i really enjoyed meeting you, jo. i hope we can meet again.”

the barista stood up, his gaze stuck on his shoe. he wanted to say something.

only when you turned around to leave did he talk.

“i’d really like it if you’d let me take you out.” his tone was still soft, but something seemed different. when you turned to meet his eyes, you were shocked to see him already staring at him.

“i would love that. text me soon?”

he nodded slowly to which you giggled at before leaving the shop but not before waving enthusiastically.

now jo had something — or someone, rather — to look forward to in these drab days.

reblogs are appreciated!

net: @lune-net

#&team x reader #jo x reader #lune-net #andteam scenarios #andteam x reader #asakura jo x reader #asakura jo #&team fluff #andteam drabbles #andteam reactions #andteam fluff #jpop x reader #kpop x reader

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baby-yongbok · 1 year ago

Text

Poetry

Chapter Two - It's a Date

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, dare I say slow burn? The type that tickles your heart.

Word Count: 2,661

A/N: Ya'll voted for a part 2 but I honestly would've probably made this a mini series regardless 😭. I love this story with my whole heart and I hope you do too. I decided that I'll be uploading the chapters for this series on Thursdays at 6pm EST. Anyway, Enjoy! Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Summary: That cute stranger that you met at your favorite bookstore cafe is anything but a stranger now.

Part One

✧Poetry Series Masterlist✧

✧Main Masterlist✧

(Reading part one before reading this is highly recommended)

“Six o’clock on the dot. We should start paying you for coming here.” Amanda, the cafe owner, joked as you walked through the doors of the small bookstore.

“Yeah? I think I’d like that, I could use the extra money.” You smiled at her as you clutched a stack of books to your chest. “Oh, these are donations by the way. All brand new, my brother is cleaning out his office and business management isn’t exactly my cup of tea.”

You place the stack of books neatly on the counter in front of Amanda and she flashes you a genuine smile. “This is why you’re my favorite customer. Here, your next drink is on us.”

Amanda hands you a coupon that you gratefully accept. You’ve learned a long time ago that declining her offers is futile. “Oh and I think that someone is here for you.”

She wiggles her eyebrows teasingly and you furrow yours. You turn around and a soft smile spreads across your face. Your eyes land on Hyunjin’s tall frame sitting cross legged at one of the free tables in the nearly empty cafe. An iced americano in one hand and a book in the other.

“He’s been here for thirty minutes.” Amanda whispers over to you and your smile spreads wider.

“Of course he’s early.” You shake your head, chuckling a bit. “Thanks for the coupon.”

You wave your goodbye to Amanda and start to make your way over to Hyunjin who seems to be completely engrossed in his book. You steal a glance at the cover and raise your eyebrows at his current literary choice.

“Life is so constructed, that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” Your voice catches his attention causing him to sit up straighter as he takes you in with a smile.

“You’ve read it?” He asks, referring to your quote as he places his bookmark and closes the novel.

“I’m a bit of a Charlotte Brontë connoisseur.” You reply with a shrug. “I did my thesis on that novel for my senior year of college.”

“I’ll have to pick your brain about it once I’ve finished it.”

You watch him as he stands and stretches a bit. You take a second to drink in his appearance, his orange and black crocodile print sweater and black slacks fitting his frame perfectly. You have no doubt that it’s expensive just like everything else that he’s worn during your Thursday evening meetings. Once he’s satisfied with his stretch he pushes in his chair and circles the table to stand in front of you. He holds a hand out to you and you slip your fingers over his slender ones. He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it gently, a grin pulling at his lips.

“You look lovely tonight.” He looks you over slowly, taking in the form fitting glory of your black pencil skirt and the contrast it has to your baggy maroon sweater tucked in just in the front.

“You say that every Thursday.” You playfully roll your eyes and Hyunjin smiles, shaking his head in agreement.

“Because you look stunning every Thursday. I can’t wait to see you on a Monday or a Tuesday.” You blush a bit, looking away from him in an attempt to hide your reaction.

The two of you have been meeting at this bookstore cafe, Adore, for two weeks now, today being the third. You’ve found yourself planning your outfit for this day of the week as soon as you wake up on Friday. Each time that the two of you say goodbye you can’t help but to think about the next time that you’ll see him and all of the questions that you’ll ask him. Hyunjin was no different, he found himself thinking about you like a teenager who just asked their crush to prom. His roommates started teasing him for the extra work that he’d been putting into his appearance. Every Thursday he’d spend an extra thirty minutes in the bathroom making sure that his hair looked just right since you complement it every time you see him. He’d gone on for about an hour asking his roommate Felix for his opinion on different colognes even though he normally doesn’t bother to wear any. He even took on an earlier work schedule so he’d be available for your meetings. Anything to see you again.

“Thank you.” You whisper and he nods in response. He grabs his bag from the back of his chair and packs his novel away before grabbing his drink.

“Shall we browse?” You nod your head, lacing your fingers together behind your back before taking a step forward. It seems that you both had the same idea since the two of you bump into each other softly. You both chuckle lightly and Hyunjin moves his free hand to the small of your back to guide you in front of him. “Ladies first.”

His words come out in such a whisper that you could barely hear him but that could also be due to your heart thumping in your ears as a chill runs over you. You shake your head trying to play off your reaction to the small physical contact but you can’t help it, his touch is electric. The two of you trail off into the poetry section and you know exactly what you’re looking for.

“I take it that you have someone in mind?” Hyunjin asks with a curious glance as you browse the shelves. You nod, your gaze never leaving the organized spines lined up on the shelves.

“There!” You reach forward quickly, plucking the book from the neat stack and holding it up to show Hyunjin.

“Rupi Kaur, I can’t say that I’m familiar with her.” Your face twists in disapproval causing a small chuckle to fall from Hyunjins blushed lips. “Why don’t you introduce me to her work.”

“ If you like R.H. Sin then you’ll love her.” You look down the aisle both ways to make sure that no one is around before kneeling down and sitting on the dark carpet. Hyunjin looks down at you with furrowed brows as you take off your bag and place it next to you. Once you’re settled you look up at him returning his confused expression. “Are you coming?”

You pat the carpeted floor next to you and Hyunjins confused stare quickly melts into a gentle look of admiration. He nods his head before joining you on the floor, sitting next to you with his back resting lightly on the book shelf. He glances over at you as you study the hardcover book in your hands, your fingers tracing over the embossed words. He takes in the steadiness of your breath and the way you hum ever so slightly when you notice a new detail on the cover. He doesn’t notice the grin that’s creeped across his lips until you look up at him, he looks away quickly as a blush creeps across his cheeks. You mimic his actions, blushing a bit yourself. A few seconds of quiet surround the two of you before Hyunjin breaks the barrier.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing towards the hardcover in your hands. You let out a deep relieved sigh and nod at him. You hand the book over to him, the tips of your fingers brush lightly against his and you both still momentarily at the contact. You both had to have felt that shock run up your spines right? The two of you decide to shake it off quickly, concluding that it was merely a case of static electricity. Hyunjin looks down at the book in his hands, turning it over and taking in the words on the back cover. He clears his throat a bit before reading the text on the back.

“This is the recipe of life, said my mother as she held me in her arms as I wept…” You listen closely to each word that his voice carries. Sinking into your own little bubble, this time that the two of you reserved every Thursday served as a calming ground for the both of you. Nothing else mattered right now, the only thing that exists is the two of you and the poetry that you shared.

“The sun and her flowers.” Hyunjin read the title as he flipped the book back over to its front. “I have to admit that I’m very interested.”

He opens the book to its contents and reads off the name of each section. “ Wilting, Falling, Rooting, Rising, Blooming.”

You nod as you look over the grayed out page with him. “Which section do you think you belong in?”

Hyunjin looks over at you, a bit taken back by your question. Your large doe eyes stared back at his shining narrow ones patiently waiting for his response. “Uh, I don't really know.”

You nod, catching on to his hesitance. You look forward for a second, your eyes mindlessly scanning the spines of the books in front of you before you do what you wanted to do last Thursday. Slowly and carefully you lean your head to the side gently resting your temple on his shoulder. You feel him tense a bit at the sudden contact but he quickly relaxes into your touch even leaning over a bit to give you better access to his shoulder.

“I think that right now I belong in falling.” You watch as Hyunjin silently flips through the pages before landing on the first page of the section you mentioned. He licks his lips before reading the poem.

“I notice everything I do not have and decide it is beautiful.” He lets out a deep sigh that he wasn’t aware that he was holding before shaking his head.

“I think that maybe I belong here too.”

His fingers run over the picture placed under the poem, imitating pencil strokes as he studies it. You turn slightly to look up at him, studying his slow blinks as his brown orbs focus on the page. The gentle air escaping his nose tickles your lashes as he exhales but you don’t dare blink, too afraid that you’ll miss a moment of him. What is this that you’re feeling?

“But I don’t think that I can say that everything that I don’t have is beautiful, not yet.” His eyes don’t leave the page as he continues to imitate the abstract strokes. “Well, there is one thing that I don’t have.”

His words come out in a whisper and his gaze suddenly shifts over to you. His brown orbs are looking deep into yours. Your breathing picks up slightly as you will yourself not to look away.

“And it’s definitely beautiful.” His gaze is intense yet soft as he looks over your features. You notice that his eyes wander over your lips a bit longer than everything else before meeting your eyes again. “I guess I have to convince myself that I deserve beautiful things.”

He lets out a light sigh and you can’t help but to bring your hand to lay on top of his.

“You are more than worthy of beautiful things, Hyunjin.” He grins down at you gently before tearing his gaze away from yours.

“Perhaps I am.” He whispers more to himself than to you. Suddenly he lets out a deeper sigh as he closes the book. “Have you eaten yet?”

You return his sigh as you lift your head from his shoulder. You can’t help but to wonder what he meant, why would he think that he doesn’t deserve to indulge in beauty? You shake the thoughts from your mind, not wanting to ruin your Thursday night with him. “I haven’t”

“Would you like something?”

“I can make something when I get back to my place, money is a bit tight for me right now.”

“My treat.” He hums out simply as he studies the spine of the hardcover in his hands.

“I’m alright.” You chuckle and he looks over at you with a bit of concern drawn on his features.

“Really it’s no problem. I know that I pay every Thursday but it makes me happy that I can provide you with something as small as refreshments every week. It gives me peace of mind.” You blush a bit at his confession, so he does think about you as much as you think about him.

“Well if it means that much to you..” He smiles down at you with a nod.

“It does.” He shifts suddenly as he moves to stand. He holds his hand out to you and you take it, allowing him to help you up. “They make an amazing tomato caprese sandwich here.”

“I’ll try it.” He nods at you happily before taking the lead out of the aisle. You follow closely behind him when suddenly you remember something. “Oh!”

You catch Hyunjin’s attention as you walk up a bit faster to stand beside him. You rummage through your bag until you find what you’re looking for.

“I have a coupon for a free drink!” You muse excitedly and Hyunjin can’t help but to laugh at your sudden elation.

“Keep it, I appreciate it but I’ve got this.”

“Oh come on! Let me help.” You pout a bit as the two of you reach the register and Hyunjin puts in the order for the two of you, he’s already memorized your drink order so little discussion is needed. Once your order is placed and paid he turns to your pouting face with a warm smile.

“You know what? There is a way that you can help.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks and you perk up a bit as you listen to him.

“Anything.” You smile up at him, wide eyed and eager to be of use.

“How about next Thursday we… meet outside of this place. Maybe I could take you on a date?”

A deep blush creeps onto your swarthy cheeks as his question sinks in. Your lips pressed together in a thin line and you shift the position of your feet slightly. Hyunjin looks down at the dark tile nervously as he waits for you to say something, anything. His nerves began to creep up his spine, spewing doubt into his mind. Just as he was about to retract his offer and apologize you let out a breathy chuckle.

“I’d really like that.” A toothy smile spreads across his face once he hears your response and you instantly wear one to match once you take in his reaction.

“Uh, great! I’ll text you the details.” He takes his hand out of his pocket, offering his phone to you. “I can’t believe we haven’t exchanged numbers yet.”

A shy chuckle escapes him as the two of you exchange phones and input your numbers.

“There you go.” You hand his phone back to him, your giddy smile still present on your red painted lips.

“Alright, well um, I’ll text you everything you need to know once I plan it.” He says as he stares down at your contact for a second too long, he bites his lip slightly to try and hold back his smile.

“It’s a date.” You both stand in front of each other smiling like enliven children at an ice cream parlor. “I’ll go grab us a table.”

Hyunjin nods at you as you turn on your heels and make your way to your usual booth. He watches you as you walk away from him with awestruck eyes. He allows himself to smile now that you aren’t looking, his eyes turning into shining crescents as excitement builds inside of him. He glances down at your contact one last time before locking his phone and stuffing it back into his pocket, He glances over at you before turning to face the cafe counter and whispers to himself.

“It’s a date.”

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year ago

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Just Another Thing – [1]

Walt 'Finn' Finnegan x Reader/OC

Summary: God help anyone who might've thought a nice, stable relationship might bring some kind of change to Walt Finnegan's usual mischief and mild-hedonism. God especially help them if they also thought a girlfriend would provide any sort of calming influence over him.

She definitely influenced him, anyone could tell you that, unfortunately just never in any way that could even remotely be described as 'calm'.

Warnings: cussing, mentions of and talk of sex, sexy body parts, ect. reader/OC is named Kimberly/Kimber, but it is still written in second person and her name shouldn't come up very often.

Notes: oh boy oh boy oh boy you have no clue how excited i am for this fic. it's literally been in the works for over a year. i'd even go as far as to say it's my fave fic in recent memory!!! Im not sure yet how many parts, but the story does have a beginning and end.

It's not necessary to have watched the film before reading this fic, as this is set in the year after, around 1982, however certain character dynamics could be confusing. Also i definitely headcanon Finn and Beverly becoming good friends, hidden beneath a layer of exasperation of course but he is definitely the type to go to all the theatre stuff like come on look at him!!!!!

okay enough from me now heres the fic I really hope you enjoy!!!

You register the alarm on your friends’ face’s far too late to do anything, and the next thing you know you’re clutching the crown of your head, a dull throbbing ache now pulsing under your fingertips.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation, you’ve been hit in the head by a ball plenty of times, but the sheer weight behind this particular impact stood out to you. That, and you knew it couldn’t have been the volleyball you and your friend’s were playing with, because you currently held it.

“What the fu–” you begin angrily, already whipping around in the direction you’d been hit, cutting yourself off at the sight of an approaching man, a look of genuine remorse painted on his features as he jogs toward you. Behind him, a group of guys with baseball gloves watch on with various cringing expressions. Just as the man nears you, his eyes subtly travel up and down your figure, his lip quirking with approval, but he keeps his face apologetic. He comes to a stop several feet away, where the baseball had landed, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you, placing his hands on his hips and lifting his chin at you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, and it at least sounds sincere. “Roper’s never had much of an eye.”

You purse your lips, but try not to look too angry. He was cute, you realise dumbly, still rubbing your head. Dirty blond hair settled in light waves at the top of his collar, a matching blond moustache groomed neatly above his upper lip. He was tall, broad across the shoulders and chest in a way you’d only ever really seen on guys who worked out, athletes and the like. He also looked a little older than a lot of the students you’d see walking around campus, and he certainly didn’t approach you with the confidence of a freshman, so you figure he must be at least an upperclassmen.

“Well, maybe y'all should work on that with him,” you grumble lightly, and drop your hand.

“You okay?” he nods at your head, and you shift to lean on one foot, not missing the flicker of his eyes to watch as you do, or the way he lingers on your rapidly rising and falling chest before he meets your eye again.

“Isn’t the first time, certainly won’t be the last. Hair probably won’t sit right tonight, though,” you complain.

“Big date?” he asks, the teasing tone unmistakable. You lift your chin a little indignantly.

“I’m sure your day is just riding on my answer, but I don’t feel particularly inclined on telling you that,” you huff, heart rate doubling when he laughs, looking away from you for the first time as he grins widely.

“Well, how about this,” he starts once he’s sobered, bending down to swipe the baseball from the grass, taking a step toward you as he does. “The next time I see you, I promise you won’t get hit in the head,” he waves the ball as if you need reminding, but takes another step closer. “And you tell me what night works best to take you out?”

You fail to hide the amused smile that pulls at your lips, but then again, you weren’t really one for playing hard to get. You can see now that he’s only a few feet away, that his eyes are a startling green, and you think you wouldn’t mind running into him again, sans head injury.

“Alright,” you tell him, stepping back with a nod. “Next time.”

It takes all of your will power to turn away from him and move back towards your friends, though you feel his eyes on you for some distance, and make sure you swing your hips just a little more than you usually might.

Part of you regrets not making plans then and there, but the other part of you shivers at the already building tension of your potential next meeting.

Squinting at your reflection in the mirror, you flip your feathery waves once more over your shoulder, before almost immediately letting it fall back where it was. Just as you’d predicted, thanks to the decent-sized lump on the crown of your head, your Jerry Hall blowout was looking less supermodel and more super-odd.

Scrunching your nose as you mess with your tresses one last time, let out a huff, and force yourself to turn away, just in time for Nancy to appear at your open door, her curled fingers tapping gently on the wood.

“Hey Kimber,” she begins, pausing to give you a whistle as you exit your bathroom and do a twirl for her. Your collared halter-neck jumpsuit was supposed to be worn with a ruffle-neck blouse, but you’d never intended to style it that way, not to mention it was tight enough that you’re not totally sure you’d even be able to fit said blouse beneath it anyway.

“Something’s telling me Miss Texas ‘56 didn’t have this particular ensemble in mind when she ordered this for you outta her fancy lil’ Saks catalogue…” Nancy teases. You roll your eyes.

“Saks don’t do catalogues.” you correct her with a faux air of haughtiness, but don’t bother to contend her point. All of your housemates were more than familiar with your former Beauty Queen mother, despite never having met her. The monthly ‘care packages’ she sent you, filled with various ‘in season’ (see: frivolous) items of clothing and ‘essentials’ spoke volumes about who exactly Mrs Charlene Wynne was. That mostly just amounting to ‘eternally neurotic but well-meaning’.

Nancy pokes her tongue out at you and scoffs out a laugh.

“Whatever, the point is; Mama doesn't always know best. You look foxy!”

You let out a laugh and smooth your hands over your thighs, thanking her softly.

You weren’t at all oblivious to the way you looked. Certainly you were no Raquel Welch, but most days you could manage something in the realm of Christie Brinkley or Cheryl Ladd, which was pretty damn good. You had your mother to thank for that, though your dad was no slouch either, but considering your mother couldn’t walk ten steps without someone recognising her from her Miss Texas win almost thirty years ago, you’ll give her most of the credit. As a result of your parent’s contributions, you’d become aware fairly quickly of the effect you tended to have on men, especially College men.

“Did you need me for something?” you prompt after a few more moments of Nancy preening over your outfit, remembering that she had come up here with a purpose some minutes ago now. Nancy blinks, before she makes a soft gasping sound, and straightens up.

“That’s right! Beverley arrived a little while ago, she was asking for you!” she informs you, waving her hand in the vague direction of the stairs and the party quickly coming to life on the first floor.

“I’m coming now!” you tell her, giving your hair one last flip before you move for your door, closing it behind you and quickly following Nancy as she all but skips.

The ‘little’ get together had officially started a little while ago, but you’d had a study group that had run long, meaning you were now fashionably late to your own houseparty, if there were even such a thing.

Almost immediately once you crest the lower steps, you feel yourself shift into focus, totally in your element now, a cool, easy smile finding a place on your features. It isn’t difficult for you to move through the light throngs of people, despite your arrival not going unnoticed by those around you, but instead of excusing yourself meekly past distracted conversationalists, you’re liked enough that partygoers both consciously and subconsciously make way for you, plenty of familiar faces greeting you warmly in passing as you go.

You aren't surprised to find the kitchen milling with guests too, though the music is a little quieter here, so you figure it will remain more sparsely populated until later in the night, when everyone is comfortably tipsy.

“Kimberley!” A female voice calls out, perhaps a little too loudly, but you’d come to expect as much from anyone deeply involved in theatre.

“Beverly!” you match her energy, volume and all, knowing that she was likely already feeling a little out of place among the other guests, who were all mostly part of the College’s various sports teams and who you suspect weren’t even aware there even was a theatre program.

You can’t stop yourself from grinning ecstatically, overjoyed to see your friend for the first time since classes had commenced for the year. However, you feel more than you see the redhead that collides with you, her much shorter frame crashing into yours with a comforting force, and thanks to your non incosiderable height, as well as your many years playing volleyball, you hardly even budge from the impact, even in your chunky platform heels. You quickly hug Beverley in return, but far sooner than you’d like, she’s pulling back and launching into what sounds like a planned monologue.

“Okay! So, you know how ages ago I said I was going to set you up with one of Jake’s housemates from the baseball house?” Beverly starts, already waving her hands expressively, her expression bright and excited. You search your mind, but honestly, you aren’t sure if the conversation sounds familiar or not. You’d had a lot of people say similar things to you throughout your college career so far. Most of the time they were totally off-base matches, but you were always happy to experience new things, new people.

Beverley doesn’t wait for your reply though, clapping her hands and rubbing them together.

“Well, of course the team was invited tonight, meaning I can finally introduce you!” she exclaims, looking wildly over her shoulder, as though the person in question was supposed to be just behind her. When she sees an empty kitchen, she frowns and purses her lips. The glimmer of annoyance is wiped from her face by the time she’s looking back at you, and she huffs good-naturedly.

“I told him to wait for me…” she links your arms as she speaks, and you happily let her lead you to the kitchen door, where a light bubble of conversation floats through from outside. You have to let out a laugh at her sheer excitement, which appears genuine, though not in her usual manner.

The usual manner meaning that every so often when the two of you found yourselves at the same club or bar, whenever she or her friend’s were being bothered, the pretty redhead would giddily inform you that she had someone she wanted you to meet, then standing back and watching gleefully as you casually sapped up the creep’s attention, only to bluntly shoot him down and send him off.

You don’t get the feeling this is one of those times, but from what you knew of the baseball team, you very well may have to do some shooing on your own behalf tonight.

Outside on the tiny back-deck, a small group of people had gathered and right away your brain sparks with familiarity, though you have very little time to consider this before Beverley is releasing your arm and stepping forward. She smiles brightly as she sweeps between you and a man who turns around as if on cue.

“Finn, this is Kimberley Wynn! Kimberley, this is Finn! I am almost certain that the two of you will get along famously,” Beverely announces with a flourish and a wink. You and Finn both blink startled at one another for several moments, before mutual recognition quickly sets in. Your lips slowly pull into a wide grin, and you don’t bother hiding the fact that you’re now looking him over with no subtly, just as he’d done to you earlier in the park.

“I’m not about to get clobbered again, am I?” you begin flirtily, glad that the man, Finn, recognises you as well, though unlike you, he seems to avoid taking the opportunity to check you out again, to his loss. Instead, he smiles big, almost showmanly, and takes up a slight lean on the railing behind him.

“If it’s any consolation, your hair looks great,” Finn replies cooly, and it’s almost as though you’d never parted ways at all. You flick your hair over your shoulder, seeing how his eyes follow the movement before they’re locked back on yours and you already know you’ve got this man hook, line and sinker.

“Luckily for you,” you sniff, though your smile undercuts any real resentment. Finn seems to grin a little wider then, more genuinely than the showman smile. You think the way his eyes crinkle in the corners is sweet, and that he should smile that way all the time.

“Wait, you two already know each other?!” Beverley cuts in, suddenly reminding you that she was in fact still standing there, watching and listening. “How?!” the redhead demands, not going so far as to stomp a foot, but she does cross her arms in a huff as she looks between the two of you in betrayed disbelief, though you note most of her ire seems directed at Finn.

The blonde swings his gaze back to the shorter woman, seemingly tickled by her apparent annoyance, yet his teasing expression is full to the brim with endeared fondness. You get the impression that this was the natural state of their friendship, and that Finn is about to say something inflammatory just to get a bigger rise, which might be a little funny, but you cut in before he can speak, relieving Beverly of her confusion.

“All Star over here threw a baseball at my head this afternoon,” you say pointedly, making sure he doesn’t mistake your happiness to see him for forgiveness. Finn holds his hands up then, and jerks a thumb in the direction of a man in the larger group of party goers on the porch.

“Roper threw a baseball at your head this afternoon,” he corrects you, as though that should absolve you of your attitude.

“Oh, that’s right! You just failed to catch it!” you tease, watching as he winces dramatically and grasps at his chest.

“You wound me sweetheart!” he exclaims ruefully, and despite the vaguely amicable antagonism, you can see now why he and Beverly are friends.

“Then we’re even.” You say. You already agree with the redhead��s earlier assessment; the two of you were going to get along famously.

Finn shrugs in a manner that reads more as relenting than indifference, and at least some of his overly performative act comes away. Beverley scoffs a laugh, rolling her eyes heavily as she reaches out to shove Finn in the arm. He sways, you think for her benefit, which makes you smile.

“Only you could throw a baseball that hits the one girl on campus who’d actually put up with you…” she snorts, seemingly assuming his chances with you were now dashed. Finn raises a finger in protest.

“As we just discussed, I only failed to catch the ball that hit the one girl on campus who may or may not be willing to put up with me. I’d like that to go on record.” He smiles at her simperingly. Beverley regards him with a withering look for several seconds, before choosing to ignore him entirely, turning to you.

“Have fun.” she says, sounding much more like her usual manner, though before you can tell her it’s alright, she’s already spun away, and when you find her again, she’s tucking herself under the arm of her boyfriend, Jake.

You shake your head, and look back at Finn, finding his gaze already locked on you. He pushes away from the railing then, and steps toward you.

“You know what this is?” he asks you, once more sounding like an actor reading lines, and gesturing between you. “Fate.” he says, lowering his voice somewhat like it was a secret just for the two of you.

You cock your head at his odd little act, though you aren’t entirely un-charmed by it. It was rather different to when you’d met this afternoon, despite his blatant flirting then, now it was as if you were speaking with a completely different person. A stage magician, perhaps.

“So, why don’t we go get a drink in your hand, and then you can tell me which day works for our upcoming date.” Finn gives a slight flourish, and while his whole demeanour is still clearly put on, there is an endearing element to his theatrics, a silliness that you might find more charming if it didn’t feel so much like he was performing for you.

He offers you his arm graciously, which you can imagine combined with his hyped up charm, would have plenty of women already giggling into their sleeves, which you don’t do, but you do place your other hand over his warm skin as well, and allow him to lead you back into the kitchen.

“So what’ll it be? Beer? Fruity punch? Fruity punch and beer?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and even though he’s still playing a role of some kind, it’s not hard for you to see through it.

“Fruity punch,” you say decisively. “Can’t stand the taste of beer.” You tell him honestly, watching as he goes about procuring you a glass of the punch you yourself had made, and appreciating the effort he puts in to make sure you have at least two cherries, though, you don’t think he means it to be suggestive, despite your own thoughts going straight to the gutter over the matter.

“So, what you’re saying is; I should switch to the punch if I want to test this theory about you being the one girl on campus who’ll put up with me later?” he asks in amusement, at last handing you your drink, his eyes sparkling. You accept the drink and give a noncommittal shrug as you take a small sip.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, but I’ll certainly appreciate it later.” You really feel no need to go along with his act, not seeing any reason to play coy about your intentions, not in the way he seemed to feel was par for the course at least. You watch as Finn takes a moment to actually process your words, a brief mix of surprise and curiosity passing over his features, but it’s quickly covered up by a much more ‘cool’ looking mask.

You have to crack a smile at his sheer determination to convince you to have sex with him, the poor man somehow didn’t realise he was preaching to the choir.

“You really do look fantastic, by the way,” Finn says after a few moments of awkward quiet pass. You push aside your amusement, and grin happily at him, smoothing your hand over the material fondly.

“Thanks! I feel like one of ‘Charlie’s Angels’,” you gush a little, briefly feeling silly for bringing up the comparison, however, this time Finn’s smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way you liked, making his whole face seem softer and more natural, pouring with warmth.

“Trust me, Farrah’s got nothing on you right now,” he tells you sweetly, continuing to fondly watch you preen, not just at the compliment, but because you think this might be the first time all evening he isn’t speaking from some kind of script.

The moment passes quickly, though, and as you duck your head to accept his praise, you see his face momentarily scrunching up in a wince, like he was scolding himself for saying something so saccharine. You consider telling him that you found the sweetness endlessly more endearing than any of the other lines so far, but you hold your tongue. You had a small feeling that his pretence was really more about him, than about you, at least to a degree.

Finn is about halfway through earnestly telling you about his apparently ‘average’ sized cock when you at last run out of patience. The gimmick itself was entertaining enough, definitely an original approach to picking up women, and you’d even played along to start with, but you can’t help wondering why you’re standing around talking about his cock when you could be doing other things with it instead.

While he’s still talking, you reach into your pocket and dig around for a moment, before you find what you’re after. Finn trails off when you turn and lay the coin face-side up on his forearm. He blinks at it in confusion, for a few seconds, before looking questioningly up at you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask before he can speak again, and force yourself not to pump your fist triumphantly when his confusion is quickly replaced with affection. Sure, you knew he wanted to have sex with you already, but now he thought you were cute, too.

“Alright,” he answers simply, fully angling his body toward yours, leaning in closer to you at the same time.

“So, this whole ‘average sized cock’ thing, does it actually work? I mean, has it worked when you’ve used it before?” you tip your head up at him, genuinely curious, but you don’t miss the way Finn’s features fall blank for a second after you speak, his smile fading, replaced with mild discomfort. He seems to shift back from you slightly, regarding you once more before he replies.

“I guess this is the time it doesn’t.” He all but mutters, his frown deepening as he looks away from you again, clearing his throat this time and straightening up, obviously embarrassed. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks back at you evenly.

“Could’ve stopped me earlier,” he says a little stiffly, though seemingly coming to terms with whatever direction he now thought this conversation was taking. You can’t help yourself then, his sulking making you laugh, fully and joyfully, but before he can sulk further, you lay your hand gently on his arm, over the penny, and give him a light squeeze. You shake your head as your laughter dies down, and fix him with a warm expression

“I never said it wasn’t working– in a manner of speaking,” You softly tell him, watching as he blinks down at you. You hurry to explain. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t working, but only because it’s totally unbelievable.”

Finn at last relaxes somewhat, though his slight frown remains as he considers your complaint.

“What’s so unbelievable about it?” he demands, in a way that tells you this pick-up tactic was one he was proud of, though clear playfulness had returned to his voice.

Confident that you were now talking, actually talking to Finn as he was, and not as he thought would get him laid, you feel energised to engage with the subject matter more seriously. You scoff and roll your eyes at his indignation.

“Firstly,” you start, shifting to lean on your hip, bringing you closer once again. “No guy is ever going to accept, let alone admit that he has an average sized-cock, and he’s definitely not going to admit it to a woman he wants to fuck.” You say matter-of-factly, though you didn’t have anything more than your not-insubstantial intimate experiences with men to go off of as proof.

“Guys who really are average, don’t think that they are, and they probably never will because no woman is going to bring up the fact that his seven inch cock looks suspiciously closer to five.” you wave your hands a little, not realising before now that you really had any firm opinions on this subject.

You see the cogs in Finn’s brain turning as he regards your words with something that resembles amused but genuine interest. You figure he hadn’t expected you to really have a point, which to be fair, you hadn’t expected either. You do plan to let him respond, but you suddenly remember something else you’d been thinking about earlier, when he’d first brought up the concept.

“–And! In my experience, guys who do have big cocks, they don’t really say anything, or they mislead you entirely, so that they can get off on hearing you telling him how big he is.”

That earns a hearty laugh from Finn, who shrugs a shoulder in admittance at that point at the very least. He’d returned at last to watching you fondly, and you think once more that Beverley had been spot on in introducing the two of you. You’re pretty sure Finn is the only man who would so happily, or nonchalantly debate with you about the size of other men’s cocks, just as you’re sure that you’re the only woman on campus who has ever challenged him on it.

Finn hums in thought. “So, you believe men will only ever overcompensate or undercompensate?” he asks, but it's more of a statement. He watches you intently as he tips his chin, and you nod.

“Exactly.”

A moment passes between the two of you, before Finn leans forward, right into your space, wearing a pleased smirk.

“In that case honey,” he starts, voice sounding a little deeper now, huskier somehow. “What’s the verdict then?” he stares at you unwaveringly, challenging you. You frown.

“The verdict on what?” you ask, though at this point you couldn’t muster much genuine interest, not when all this verbal foreplay was slowing down the process of getting him in your bedroom for some actual foreplay.

Finn’s smirk grows then, seemingly glad you’d asked. You watch as his eyes dip briefly down to your chest, where his height and closeness grant him a very good view of your tits. He meets your gaze again before he speaks.

“Do you think I’m overcompensating, or undercompensating?”

You blink and stare at him as you process, not even bothering to hide your captivation, but it lasts for mere seconds before your lips are curling into a coy smile to match his own. You copy his move then, dropping your eyes to take in the front of his jeans, but you don’t look back up again as he had. Instead, you reach out and begin tracing his belt buckle. Finn inhales sharply, clearly taken off guard by your forwardness, which was clearly working for him.

You’re momentarily distracted from his belt as you catch sight of the rather sizable bulge forming at the front of his pants, giving you a pretty good idea of what the verdict should be. You lick your lips without really thinking, but take full advantage of the way Finn’s eyes follow the movement, tracing the path over your now wet mouth as he awaits your answer. You lean in, closing the miniscule distance between you at last, and give his belt a teasing little tug toward you.

“Y’know, I haven’t a clue,” you lie nonchalantly, your smile only growing when you use his belt to pull yourself in and press right up against his front. “But I’d love to find out.”

#everybody wants some!!#walt finn finnegan #finnegan x reader #walt finnegan x reader #idk what to tag ethis even

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angelofacidx · 1 year ago

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Mine

((@bunnyreaper V day exchange for @literatecowboy . I do not write fluff but here’s my crack at it, enjoy))

Ghost x reader fluff.

Valentine’s Day is a stupid Hallmark holiday meant to put pressure on couples to over perform and shower each other with gifts so that they may forget about how they treat each other the other 364 days of the year, or to make people feel isolated and lonely for not having a partner in their life. At least, that’s what you’d told yourself for most of your adult life. A self soothing consultation? Maybe. Valid? You’d like to think so. This view was swayed however, when Simon slipped his way past the iron gates of your heart and made himself a home there, rent free, the bastard.

A poorly folded note sat on top of your endless pile of risk assessment paperwork to go over before the end of the week, looking sorely out of place on your otherwise tidy desk. The note found itself clutched between your hands and splayed open as your curiosity surged. The handwriting itself was harsh, pen pressed too hard, angrily or nervously, and akin to what you’d expect a serial killer’s penmanship to be.

‘Be my valentine? -S’

Good lord, this was cheesy for anyone but especially for Simon. Regardless you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and your lips half quirk up involuntarily and awkwardly. Tucking the note away into your desk drawer, you headed to the rec room in pursuit of it’s sender. Thankfully, he was hunkered down on the peeling leather couch, tea in hand as he scrolled through an article on his phone. Probably about WWII. Men love WWII.

“You know you didn’t have to ask right?” You speak up, causing Simon’s gaze to tear away from his phone and fall onto you.

“Pardon?”

“The note. You didn’t have to ask. It’s kinda like…implied since we’ve been uhm..” You cough, clearing your throat and hoping he understands the implication.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and not bothering to humor you.

“…Yes, but no corny stuff.”

“So a string quartet to your office. Got it.” He says, turning his attention back to whatever he was reading.

When you wake, Simon is out of your bed and gone, his side neatly made with the corners of the sheets and duvet hospital tucked and the pillow fluffed. This wasn’t unusual for the two of you by any means. He’d come over after work, get fed, rearrange your internal organs in a way he saw fit, retire with you for the night, and then be out before his conditioning regimen started.

You sit up in bed, arching your back like a cat and stretching your body out with a content moan, shrugging off the sleepy feeling that ran bone deep. Your phone lit up on your bed side then, calling your attention to the string of ‘happy Valentine’s Day!’ texts from your friends. Cute. No text from Simon though, as you suspected. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot about the whole ordeal and the note was just a manipulation tactic, hoping you’d fawn over the gesture and suck the soul out of him harder than you had before.

Your morning routine went by without issue. Shower, brush your teeth, get dressed and apply makeup, a small spritz of perfume to your wrist. Making your way to the dining room, the usual resting spot for your keys, you’d noticed an iced coffee from your favorite cafe sitting on the table. It was a kind gesture, although the cup was sweaty and the ice was slightly melted, it was sweet of him nonetheless.

Your day at work dragged on as usual. Typing, filing, placing new recruits in their respective units and then completing the paperwork that went with it. Although you were just a desk jockey, you were the backbone of every goddamn task force on this base. Nature called you out of your office to relieve yourself and upon returning, your eyes mimicked an owl’s; huge pupils the size of saucers. Your desk was overtaken by a flower arrangement. Two dozen roses, babies breath, carnations, and eucalyptus all bunched together with a big silky black bow and overflowing the poor glass vase.

This was too much and beyond embarrassing. Your face heated, palms gathering sweat, and heart hammered somewhere deep in your chest. You mentally cringed at the image of carrying this home, the walk of shame off base and the sure to follow childish “ooo”’s from your colleagues. You had to admit though, it was a beautiful arrangement. He had to have picked it out and put some thought and consideration into it, which meant a lot to you even if you didn’t want to admit it.

With a determined pace you left your office, aiming to find Simon. After checking every nook and cranny of the base and leaving no stone unturned, you came up blank. He definitely knew you were looking for him, and saw you before you could see him. Though he was massive, he was able to be elusive and slip right through your fingers like sand. You admired the ability and wished you could do the same, but in the moment you hated him for it. Feeling defeated you headed back to your office, hat in hand, to see another note on your desk.

‘I’ll see you at home. -S’

Home. The word echoed in your mind. Though he stayed over at your place most nights during the week he’d never called it your home. The word itself sent you reeling, a giddy chuckle escaping you before you could stop it. Jesus, get a grip. He’s a guy you’re monogamously hooking up with who just so happens to return to your house every night like a stray cat, not your boyfriend. Totally not.

The end of your shift could not come faster. You sped walked to your car with your arms around the comically large vase, careful not to spill any water as it sloshed around and threatened to soak you. The vase ended up in your passenger seat, buckled in like a person as you made the trek back home.

Entering and kicking off your shoes, the smell of garlic, basil, and onion hit you. Simon sat at the table, two plates of pasta on either side and two glasses of wine. Carefully, you set the vase down as a centerpiece and ruffled a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t need to do all that Si. I appreciate it but you totally could have gotten away with a card or something.” You said, placing a kiss on his forehead before taking a seat at the table. Everything looked amazing.

“You’re better than a card darlin’ M’ almost offended for you. Have some standards will ya?”

“If I had standards you wouldn’t be sitting across from me.” You teased, which pulled a chuckle from his chest and the shake of his head. Your hand found his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that you were joking before letting it fall to your side.

“Did you cook this?” You questioned, stabbing a fork into the pasta and swirling it to gather some on the fork.

“…No. But I plated it so that counts for somethin’ right?”

“It does.” You assured, digging into your food.

The dinner and wine was delicious but silent, how the both of you liked it. Life and work was so busy it was nice to just sit together and exist without noise sometimes.

After you’d both finished you attempted to stand and clear the dishes but he stopped you with a hand to your chest, taking the duty on himself.

“They are beautiful, really. The flowers I mean. I appreciate them and I appreciate you, you really didn’t have to—.”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand, drying them on the dish towel after he finished cleaning up.

“You’re goin’ all soft on me and haven’t even opened the best part.”

“The best part? What is it?” You questioned too fast, mentally scolding yourself for sounding eager.

He fished a small box out of his pocket, placing it on the table in front of you and nodding his head, a silent tell to open it. Your hands found the box, opening it at its hinges carefully. Inside and sitting on the plush black velvet of the box laid a small silver chain necklace with the initial ‘S’.

Your eyes once again widened in awe as he moved to grab it from you carefully.

“Hold up your hair.” He said barely above a whisper.

With your hair out of the way he clasped the necklace around you, adjusting it to his liking before letting your hair fall back to its resting place.

“I uhm.. This.. What does this..?” You trailed off, anxiety twisting in your stomach.

“It means you’re mine, yeah?” He said in a hushed tone, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“..Yeah.” You agreed, breathily and hugging him to your chest.

You were his.

#cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod

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