#i just like them a lot and this turned out well. nodding

[p1astr81]

hey! if you haven’t done this one yet i was wondering if you could do a one shot of a bunch of different moments where oscar mentions his girlfriend in interviews or videos etc :)

The fan zone was a sea of papaya, fat heads of Oscar’s and Lando’s faces stuck in the air.

“You’ve got a week off after this triple header, how do you boys plan on spending it?” Laura asked.

Lando answered first. “Eh, probably just stay at home, play some games. You know, just chillax.” He finished, his gaze turning to Oscar to hear his response.

“Probably a lot of the same.” He started. “Have a cheat meal, maybe. Spend some time with my girlfriend.”

The crowd broke in to cheers at that.

He was a guest on a podcast this time.

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” One of them asked.

He smiled and nodded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet? Because I know you left Australia when you were young, but she’s Australian, isn’t she?”

His smile brightened. “Yeah, she is. We met when we were—well, we first met when we were five, I think it was. She went to my primary school with me.”

“So you’ve known each other awhile then?”

“Yeah, I’d say. Nearly twenty years which is crazy to think about. But we weren’t, like, the closest of friends in school, but then my mom and her mom became friends after I left for Australia.”

“So when did you guys start dating?”

He hummed, thinking. “I want to say we were fourteen when I first asked her out.”

“Fourteen?! So you’ve been dating ten years now?”

“Uh, not quite. I asked her out in December of that year, because I was home from racing for the holidays, and we went to her family’s house for a small party.”

“Wow, nearly ten years. And you haven’t proposed to her yet?”

Oscar laughed at that. “No, not yet. We got together super young, which is why it seems so long, but…” I’m planning on doing it soon, the confession was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he muttered a, “yeah.”

Martin Brundle caught him on the grid. “This isn’t regular talk for a grid walk, but it’s my understanding that you’re recently engaged?”

He blushed a dark shade of red. “Yup.” He answered simply, smiling brightly.

“So it’s a win today then as an engagement present?” Martin joked.

He laughed. “Uh, hopefully. We’ll see what we can do. We’re quick so that’s a big help. But if not, I hope the trip to Italy was enough to suffice.”

One championship, and a wedding later, the season had started again. “Oscar! Happy to be here racing at home?”

“Yeah. I love the fans, and a lot of my family can be here to support me too, which is nice.” He nodded, smiling.

“Speaking of family, I saw yours expanded over the break, congratulations.”

Stupidly, Lando pipped up. “Wait, you had a kid?” He hit Oscar on the arm.

That got a laugh out of him, his head dropping along with the microphone. “No. I got married, and thank you, Laura.”

“Oh, right, right.” Lando muttered.

[2x01diaz]

buddie living together and deciding they’re gonna share the bedroom, trading off nights so their backs don’t kill them because buck’s couch remains uncomfortable. it works well enough until they have a tough call and they’re tired and it’s bone deep. the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your marrow and makes it hard to keep your eyes open. so they both stumble into their (their) house and it’s eddie’s turn to take the bed but neither of them say anything when buck follows him into the bedroom. neither of them say anything when they strip down to their boxers (boxers and socks, for buck) and crawl under the covers together. and they keep quiet as they shuffle until eddie mutters a quiet c’mere and pulls buck against him until he’s holding him. buck settles. eddie settles. they’re asleep in seconds. neither of them mention it when they wake up, but it happens again after the next shift, the excuse of “oh, i need to get real sleep” dying on eddie’s tongue when he doesn’t even need to use it, buck just drags him into the bedroom with him. it becomes a thing after that, another item in the long list of things buck and eddie don’t talk about, but then one night buck asks what they’re doing. eddie says they’re gonna sleep. and buck swallows and nods and says i really missed you, you know? and it sounds a lot like i love you and please stay and eddie nods and laces his fingers with buck’s on his chest and says i missed you, too, and kisses the nape of his neck when buck’s breathing evens out. but buck feels it. feels it and calls him out on it the next morning in the kitchen over coffee and pancakes. you kissed me. no i didn’t. eddie. buck. i’m gonna kiss you now, make it even. eddie laughs and says okay. and they kiss. because they’re in love. the end.

[golddustwomanwins]

Imagining saying yes to heaven Art tells Patrick about what happened and he suggests to Art that both reader and Art can pleasure each other by him just rutting his dick to her folds and gaslighting n convince him that it's not sex because it's not inside 😔👉👈

Say Yes to Heaven pt. 5

Love, love, love all your ideas. Heads up, this might be the last part to say yes to heaven unless anyone has some ideas or wishes on scenes with this Art since I am running out of ideas.

Art Donaldson x Reader

18+

Previous Part

Despite his blubbered words ,Art was serious about you meeting his grandmother. This was a first for you too, you had never met the family of a boy you were interested in. To be fair, Art was your first real relationship that wasn’t only based on sexual attraction. It was sweet how proud he was of you that he even wanted to share you with his most important person in his life.

It made you giddy with excitement, calling Tashi over to your dorm while packing your things.

“How far did you guys go then?” Tashi was ruffling through your dresses, throwing the ones she liked on the bed.

“Not as far as I would’ve liked. But I don’t want to pressure him.” You folded the dresses and put them in your suitcase. “It’s just a weekend, Tashi,” you snort when she picks over five dresses.

“Always gotta be prepared,” she turned around. “One for dinner, one for breakfast and one for the night.” She winked at you and you laughed.

“I doubt we’ll share a room,” you say, sitting down on your bed careful not to crinkle the dresses. “His grandma is the one he grew up with so I guess his faith came from her.”

Tashi rolled her eyes, sitting crisscrossed on the mattress. “His faith. You’ve been dry humping and giving the dude probably the best head he ever had in his life.”

“The only head he had in his life,” you corrected her and Tashi chuckled.

“Exactly. That boy is head over heels for you. There’s no faith left.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip, fingers splaying nervously in your lap. “But it’s not…sometimes he—he cries.”

Tashi looked at you. “He cries?”

“After we do things. I guess he feels guilty.”

“Oh boy,” Tashi said. “I fear, Artie needs some professional help for his tendencies.”

Your eyes widened. “Do you think so?”

“Well, have you talked to him about it? His faith.”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “I always tell him it’s okay and that we only go as far as he’s comfortable with. And that’s fine, a lot of people need their time regardless of their beliefs.”

Tashi nodded. “But?”

“It’s just—I think he wants to go further. But he can’t.”

It didn’t bother you that you and Art hadn’t had sex after a month of dating. Surprisingly, you liked it more, knowing that he didn't only want you for sex. But you did miss the intimacy of it. To just be with each other, no barrier existing only vulnerability on both ends.

“Maybe he really does need therapy,” Tashi teased and you chuckled, throwing a pillow at her. She caught it with ease, hugging it to her chest.

“But seriously a weekend getaway is like the perfect opportunity to go at it.”

“Don’t say it like that,” you snorted. She was right. Being at the home he grew up in, meeting his grandma was all awfully romantic and it felt final. Like Art really wanted you in his life and this wasn’t only temporary.

“Do you want to fuck him?” Tashi pressed. You nodded slowly.

“Then talk to him. If he really wants to, then make it clear to him that he can have his faith and you. He just needs to loosen the leash a little. It’s part of life.”

You nodded. Tashi was right. You just needed to talk to him and see how things were for him.

“Good,” a slow smirk build on Tashi’s lips. “Now we’ll see what we can do about what goes underneath the dresses.”

You both giggle happily as you pull out your sweetest lace sets.

-

At the same time on the other side of campus, a nervous energy gripped Art as he packed his bag for the weekend. Patrick came over after 23 missed calls from Art, rambling about an emergency.

“Damn, Art, telling a girl to meet your Nan after you came in her mouth must be a new track record for you,” Patrick grinned dirtily. He was swiping through Arts phone and your pictures, cock hardening in his jeans when he saw all the small skirts and low cut tops you wore.

“Don’t say that,” Art cringed, carefully folding his shirts before putting them in his bag.

“Why not, it’s true.” Art snatched his phone out of Patrick’s hands and put it in his back pocket.

“I really like her. I feel like she…she’s the one,” Art said earnestly. Patrick’s lips parted in surprise. He couldn’t even imagine spending the rest of his life with just one person.

“You’re serious about her.”

Art frowned. “Of course I am. She’s perfect. She’s kind and intelligent and she has a good heart.”

“Must’ve give good head too,” Patrick grinned and Art scoffed again, continuing to pack his bag.

“You’re disgusting,” Art said with flushed cheeks.

“You’re drunk on pussy, Art,” Patrick said. “Don’t let it fool you. You think you’re in love but it’s just the sex.”

Art looked up flushed. “We haven’t…”

Patrick raised both his brows surprised, sitting up straight. “You’re kidding.”

Art shook his head, his hand grasping his cross. Patrick clocked the movement and cackled. “You’re telling me you’re saving yourself for marriage? With a smoking hot girlfriend like that and you want her to meet your Nan?”

He burst into booming laughter, making Art frown. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What? Why?” Art asked.

��Art, you’re lucky a girl like that is even looking at you. She’s experienced and knows what good sex feels like. You’re not worried she’s gonna move on, if you make her wait for it?”

“She’s not like that,” Art was quick to defend you. “She likes me and she knows of my faith.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she does. Doesn’t mean she likes it.”

“I make her feel good,” Art said, flushing. He usually didn’t talk about this stuff and even if Patrick did help him before, he was still not comfortable talking about intimate things like that.

“But that’s not the same as sex.”

Art looked at Patrick curiously. “It’s not?”

His best friend shook his head. “Believe me, it’s not. If you don’t wanna go all in just fuck against her cunt or just do the tip.” He shrugged and watched Art flush beetroot red.

“W-what?”

“You know, fuck against her, make sure she’s wet enough—“

“You’re disgusting,” Art interrupted him, throwing a shirt at Patrick. The latter grinned. “You’re saying that but I can see your boner from here, buddy.”

Art turned his back on Patrick and shoved a few things into his bag angrily. He wasn’t angry at Patrick per se but at himself.

“It’s not really sex, Art. Not if you don’t put it all the way,” Patrick sprawled lazily on the bed. “Everyone has sex, Art, you’re not gonna die from it.”

“I know I’m not gonna die from it,” Art huffed. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Do you expect her to understand? To sacrifice something she actually wants? If you really like her you’ll do it for her.”

Art knew Patrick was being manipulative. He didn’t know what his friend would gain from this but he could hear the slight undertone in his voice, the twitch in his left hand.

“You’re not going to end up in hell if you fuck—make love to—the girl you love.”

Art didn’t bother to answer, thoughts swirling in his head and clouding his mind. He needed to focus on this weekend and was excited to see his Nan again.

Patrick was being an unnecessary asshole, trying to meddle in Art's business.

-

The drive home was peaceful. Art didn’t let go of your hand all the way, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to make sure you were still beside him. His Nan greeted you both with open arms, delighted that Art was finally with a sweet girl.

She made sure you had enough to eat, making you stuff your bellies before ushering you upstairs to freshen up and get situated. To your surprise you were allowed to sleep in Art's room—albeit she pumped up a small air mattress beside his bed.

“Your gran is so sweet,” you muttered with a soft smile as you stepped inside Art’s childhood room. There was a small bed pushed beneath a wooden crucifix hanging on the wall—predictably. His nightstand was tidy and naked, apart from a lamp.

His desk was shoved beneath the window, white shutters drawn closed, a few wooden frames scattered on the dresser. You walked over to it, looking at pictures of a grinning Art, braces stuck to his teeth. There was one of him in front of church, polka dot bow tie around his neck when he was a preteen.

The ones where Art is older, he’s never alone in the picture. A smug looking brunette is always beside him, arm around his shoulders as they stand beside each other like the sun and the moon.

You pick one frame up, with the same brunette in it and turn to look at Art. “That Patrick?”

Art nodded. He was still standing in the doorframe, hands pushed in his pockets as he watched you move in this familiar space. It was strange seeing you here but it was also very good. It felt like there had been something missing in this room and with you here it felt whole again.

“You and him are quite tight, huh?” You put the frame back down.

“Yeah, ever since boarding school,” Art told you, watching you pick apart his soul. Once you were satisfied with snooping, you walked back to him, smiling. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pecked him. “Thank you for inviting me here. It’s beautiful.”

Subconsciously, the tightness in Arts shoulders lifted, his rigid posture melting into your touch. He didn’t even notice how important it was to him that you liked the place he grew up in. That you liked his Nan and she liked you.

“I like having you here,” he said with flushed cheeks, hands finding your lower back. His conversation with Patrick flashed in his mind but Art pushed it back with vigor. He leaned down and kissed you again, properly this time, tasting strawberry and you.

-

The weekend was pure bliss. Art took you to the local farmers market, watching you taste cherries that stained your lips, sucking on freshly cut mango a vendor offered you for free. He showed you the lake he’d always spend his summers at and the local bookstore he’d work in when he wasn’t at the boarding school.

He even showed you his local church, the ancient pastor greeting you happily and something lifted off Art’s shoulders when Reverent Hastings expressed his happiness at you being a couple.

He showed you the Bible he would read from, his primary school and the bike he used to ride through town with. You held hands and kissed and sometimes late at night his hand would slip past your panties and you came with his name breathless on your lips.

He didn’t let you sleep on the air mattress, obviously he’d take it, staring up at you and watching the moonlight cast shadows along your skin. It was your last night here, you’d rise early tomorrow to drive back to campus.

“Art,” you whispered in the dark and he quickly opened his eyes to find you staring back at him. “Could you maybe come up?”

Art didn’t hesitate before he stood up. You lifted the comforter for him and he slipped beneath, swallowing when he saw the silk slip you had on.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked as he pulled you flush against him. With the little space you had on the bed, you nudged one thigh between his legs, shivering slightly.

“You’re always so warm,” you mutter sleepily. “Love it.”

“Yeah?” Art flushed. Your dress had ridden up, his fingers traveling over the rim of your lace panties. He shivered slightly, pressing his hips closer to yours.

“I really enjoyed this weekend,” you said quietly and Art hummed. “Me too. Like having you here.” He pressed a gentle kiss against your temple. “Feels right.”

Your heart thrummed at his words and you lifted your head to catch his lips. Art wasted no time and his tongue quickly found yours, hand wandering beneath your dress.

“Seeing you in my hometown,” Art mumbled between kisses, “'s doing things with my head.”

“Yeah?” You asked as your hips pushed against his, feeling his growing erection against you. You whimpered slightly, clutching at his chest.

Art nodded, sloppily catching your lips. “Just thinking about after college, how we could get our own place and stuff.”

“Mhh,” you mumbled, too turned on to really think about an answer. Your hand slipped beneath his boxers wrapping your hand around his half hard cock, pumping lazily.

Arts lips sucked at your neck, teeth scraping your skin and making you moan. Art put a hand over your mouth. “Shh, baby.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled sheepishly.

“Ohh—fuck,” Art groaned when your hold on his cock tightened.

“Don’t—wait,” he grabbed your wrist to stop your movement.

“Too much?” You asked as you leaned back to look at him. He shook his head. “No-no. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

He softly pushed a strand off your cheek, watching you for a moment. “I want to try something,” he said.

You blinked surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

You maneuvered yourself under Art, him leaning above you. He leaned down and kissed you, slowly this time, with all the care in the world. His necklace dangled from his neck, cross swiping coldly against your clavicles and making you flinch.

“Sorry,” Art apologized, lips trailing down your throat. His hands wandered over your breasts and down to the hem of your dress slowly pushing it up and exposing your belly. He kissed down your stomach, before he mouthed over your clit over the fabric of your panties.

Art groaned in delight already feeling how wet you were.

“Art,” you whimpered, hips bucking as he kept mouthing at you, wetting the fabric further with his tongue.

“Art, don’t—I’m gonna—“ you bit your hand to drown out the moan as your whole body got shaken through with shivers. You came quietly but exploded around his mouth so hard you saw black spots for a few moments.

Once Art was finished he looked up at you with flushed cheeks. He leaned up again, kissing you hungry, rutting his hips against you. Your hand wandered to his aching erection but he nudged your hands away.

You watched him surprised as he got rid of his boxers, cock slapping against his stomach, the tip all red and smeared with pre cum.

“I just want to—to try something,” Art’s voice is restrained as he slowly lets his hips down, grinding his cock against your clothed cunt.

“Oh fuckk—“ he moans, mouth finding your neck. You chuckle slightly, understanding what it is he wants to do. Your hands softly drive through his curls aas he lets the head of his cock rest against you, nudging your clit through your panties.

“Take them off,” you said.

“Mhh?” Art murmured into your neck. He wasn’t even moving, just slightly resting against you, afraid if he’ll move that he’ll cum too fast.

“Take my panties off, Art,” you giggled into his neck.

“N-no we can’t,” he slowly flexed his hips then, starting to hump you against your panties. Somehow he managed to nudge the head of his cock right against your clit, sending small burst of pleasure through your body.

Your lips met again and you wrap your legs around his torso, fully pulling him down against you. Art grunted in surprise, before he slipped into a soft moan.

You sneakily reached down and pull your panties to the side, making both of you groan when his cock slipped through your wet folds.

“Oh god—oh please—don’t—“ Art whimpered incoherent words. The sensation was all too much, the way his cock slipped so effortlessly against you, eliciting soft moans from your lips. He bends down and sucked at your nipple as his balls grew tighter and tighter.

“You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he murmured, hands digging into your hips. He looked down to watch his red cock slip through you, one hand moving down to rub at your clit.

Your hips bucked up quickly right at the same time as Art rutted against you.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. He kept up a steady pace, the frame of the bed shaking slightly with every thrust, soft whines falling from your lips.

As if on accident Arts cock slipped lower, he rutted forward in the same moment and the tip of his cock slipped inside.

“No,” Art rushed out breathless, pulling out quickly. “Oh fuck,” your walls tightened around him as he pulled out again.

You both looked at each other with wide eyes. “It’s fine. Was just the tip,” you softly stroke his cheek and it takes Art a moment to control his breathing.

“Can I—can I try again?” Art whispered.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you tried to hold yourself back and not shout YES. Your hands found his hips, softly brushing over his skin to soothe him. His lips were slightly parted, glistening with spit as he looked at your cunt.

“You want me to take it off?” You asked gently and he nodded. Art helped you pull the panties off, baring you to him completely.

“Oh,” he sighed as if you were the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen in his life. Slowly, he slipped his cock through your folds again, angling your hips the way he liked. And then you both watched his tip disappear inside you. Your cunt clenched around, sucking him in and Art was tempted to just slip inside completely.

He shuddered slightly as he felt the warm walls of your cunt and for the next seconds he just watched himself shallowly fuck you. Your own hand slipped down and rubbed at your clit, making your walls tighten around him.

“Let me,” Art gently pushed your fingers away and started to work you. With the added sensation and Arts soft whimpers it didn’t take long for you to cum again.

“Oh—Oh you feel so good when you cum—“ Art whimpered as you moaned, walls milking his tip. The feeling was so overwhelming that his whole body started to convulse, your back arching into his hands. You slipped down further on his cock, searching for him to fill you completely during your orgasm.

“Oh im gonna—I think I’m gonna—fuckk,” with one hard thrust, Art was sheathed inside you completely, balls drawing tight as he spilled his hot cum inside you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Art kept whimpering as he flooded your cunt, cock twitching inside you for a few minutes. He collapsed on to you, heels pushing into the mattress to be deeper inside you but there was nowhere to go.

“I love you,” Art murmured into your neck and you stiffened slightly. You didn’t even think Art realized what he said, his nose digging into your neck as he dropped a sweet kiss to your clavicle.

He grew soft inside you and slowly pulled out. Art slipped into his boxers before disappearing without a word. It only took him a minute before he was back with a warm, wet cloth.

You grew teary eyed as he gently nudged your thighs apart and cleaned you up, his cross dangling against your lower stomach. After Art deemed you sufficiently clean he slipped into the bed beside you, pulling your body flush to his chest. He didn’t notice the tears slipping past your eyes as he kissed your neck again.

“Are you all right?” He whispered softly and you nodded, your hand searching for his. He intertwined your fingers and squeezed gently, his heart feeling utterly light.

You waited for the impending guilt, for soft sobs to wake you but they never came. Art held you through the whole night and for the first time it didn’t feel like you made him worse. It felt like you were right where you’re supposed to be.

———

@curiousshifter101 @weasleysarch @tinythebunni @jamespotteraliveversion @grimsonandclover @soulxinxthexsky @addiexith @seokjinluvb0t @celuverst @devilpeqch @reverie-and-roses @antxnxlla @sazura @anehkael @faiththealbum

[aquarius-johnny]

“totally platonic” | johnny suh

𝜗𝜚 genre: smut | wc: 6.6k | au: friends to lovers 𝜗𝜚 pairing: bestfriend! johnny x afab! reader 𝜗𝜚 warnings: soft dom johnny, virgin reader, banter, hickies, oral (m + f receiving), dirty talk, cum play, cervix kissing, p in v, checking in, unprotected sex, praising, pulling out, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare, confessions, missionary, doggy, other names included for writing purposes, other members mentioned (mark, doyoung) 𝜗𝜚 summary: you’re nearing your thirties and still a virgin. johnny, your best friend and only person who knows about your secret, offers to take your virginity seeing how much its bothering you — but it’s all platonic, duh! 𝜗𝜚 aimee's thoughts 💭 : no thoughts, just a horny smut. added a bonus scene for some fluff at the end. requested by anonymous 𐙚

check out my other work here! → m.list navi

── FRIDAY, 10:38 PM

A familiar text tone designated to your best friend is heard as you sulk in bed.

Johnny🌻: I’m outside, open the door. You: Use the spare key I gave you. I’m in my room.

In less than a minute, your bedroom door slowly opens and your room’s overhead lights turn on, temporarily blinding you for a second before you throw your blanket over your head. The brightness abruptly dims before the only light source comes from your side table lamp.

“You didn’t make it to the monthly dinner,” Johnny lets out as you feel a dip in your mattress. “Everyone was worried and wondered if you were okay.”

You uncover your head from your blanket. Looking up at the man sitting on your bed, you wrinkle your nose in slight disgust. “Ew, you’re on my bed with outside clothes,” you roll your eyes before softly giggling at him.

Johnny laughs, lowering his head in defeat. He stands up and strips himself from his beige sweater and jeans, leaving him in nothing but his white t-shirt and gray underwear. He lays on your bed, turning his body to face you. He slides a pillow under his head and his arm sandwiched between your mattress and the cold side of the pillow.

You place another pillow over his waist, helping him cover his lower half. “You could’ve left your pants on, perv.” You tease, shifting your body to mimic his position.

“Oh shut up. It’s nothing new,” he smiles. “You’ve seen me half naked before.”

You give him a small smile after hearing his words before changing the subject. “What’re you doing here?” You ask, pulling your blanket higher up your body.

“I came to make sure you’re okay.” He presses the backside of his hand against your forehead. “Are you sick? You said you weren’t feeling well.”

Shaking your head, you gently push his hand away. “I just didn’t feel like going to dinner with everyone.” You softly admit, trying to sound nonchalant.

“We both know that’s a lie. You always look forward to our monthly dinners with our friends. What’s wrong?” He looks at you with concern. “You can tell me.”

“Whenever I’m around them, I’m somehow reminded that I’m the only virgin of the group,” you sigh.

“Ah,” he nods in understanding. “I see your v-card is still bothering you.”

“I’m nearly 30, Johnny. I haven’t had sex yet and it’s starting to mess with my life plans. My virginity isn’t even something I hold close to me, sex just hasn’t happened with me.”

“You could always hook up with randos.”

“You know that I’m not into that.” You scoff. “I’ve always wanted to lose it to someone I feel safe with.”

Johnny moves his body closer to you. “There are a lot of people who are still virgins at your age.” He tries to comfort you. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.” You sigh in defeat, covering your face with your hands in frustration. “Maybe I should just run away and become a nun.”

Johnny chuckles at your dramatic statement, gently moving your hands from your face.

“It’s not funny,” you groan before a small laugh involuntarily leaves your lips too. “Please don’t tell anyone why I didn’t come tonight.”

“Hey, I’ve kept your virginity a secret for a long time now. One more can’t hurt.” He lifts his hand to stroke your cheek with the pad of his thumb before pulling away and clearing his throat. “So you just laid here and felt sorry for yourself?”

You give him a death glare, displeased with how he worded your actions even though it really was what you did while him and your group of mutual friends were having dinner.

“Did you have fun tonight?” You ask, changing the subject.

“It’s never fun without you.” He flashes a cheeky smile at you, earning him a giggle from you in response. “It’s the same thing every month. You didn’t miss much.”

You nod your head at his words, allowing silence to fill the air for a minute.

“Hey,” he softly lets out, catching your attention once more. “You trust me, right? Like you feel safe around me?” Johnny hesitantly questions.

“Of course,” you let out a half hearted laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, I can see how much your situation bothers you. So, I was thinking,” he pauses. “And this is just a thought.” He lightly chuckles, attempting to keep the mood light. “If you’re really upset about still being a virgin, why don’t we…” he trails off.

Your brows raise in surprise. Your lips parting upon hearing his words. “Oh, uh, you and me,” you stammer. “Having sex?” You slowly finish his thought.

“Yeah, I mean,” he shifts uncomfortably. “You said you wanted to do it with someone you feel safe with and you just said you feel safe with me, so why don’t we — why don’t I help you, so you don’t feel like this again?”

You fall quiet for a moment, thoroughly thinking through his words as you sit up in bed and pulling your knees to your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of ruining our friendship? What if it makes things awkward and weird between us?”

You watch Johnny shift his weight onto his elbow, propping up his upper body. “Yeah, there’s always a chance of ruining our friendship. There’s also a chance of ruining it if we debate which Spider-Man movie is the best,” he grins, clearly trying to lighten up the mood. “If we make it weird, then it’ll be weird.”

“Okay well, are you… clean?” An involuntary chuckle parts your lips.

He gives you a dramatic eye roll before grabbing a pillow and playfully hitting your face with it. “Yes! Of course I am! I get tested every time I hook up with someone and I always use a condom.” He hits you with the pillow again before you stick your hand out to stop it.

“Forgive me, I’m sorry.” You giggle. “I just wanted to make sure. I know you’re very experienced with this aspect of your life. It’s not like I was degrading you, I’m sorry if you felt I was.” You lay back down in your previous position.

“It’s fine,” he sighs, dramatically. “I suppose it’s normal for someone to ask.” He rolls his eyes. “People usually ask with more tact, but I’ll let it slide with you.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, giggling at his sarcastic comment.

“I’ll even give you the boyfriend experience,” he smirks. “Free of charge, of course.”

“Do you even know how to be a boyfriend?” You scoff before you hold your hands up in preparation to get hit by a pillow again.

“Contrary to your belief, I do know how to be a boyfriend.” He uses a hand to lower your wrists before hitting you with another pillow, causing you to giggle. “You’re feisty today.” He chuckles. “What’s with the sudden jabs at me? Don’t tell me being a virgin for nearly 30 years somehow gives you permission to think you’re better than everyone else.”

“You know that’s not it,” you defend, trying to grab the pillow with your hands.

“Yeah? Just deciding to be a brat then?” He hits you with the pillow again right before you finally have a grasp on it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You laugh. “You know I’m just kidding.”

Johnny concedes, letting out a playful huff. “Didn’t think it’d be this hard to get a virgin to agree to have sex with me.” He grins, helping you sort out your messy hair that he caused.

After moving strands of hair away from your face, he places his warm palm against your cheek.

“What do you think?” Johnny asks. “Wanna lose your virginity to your best friend? Platonically, of course.” He flashes you a grin.

You nod your head in agreement. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

── SATURDAY, 9:43 PM

“You didn’t have to take me to dinner before taking my virginity, you know that right?” You jokingly comment as you push your house key into the lock of your front door. 

“See, when you put it that way I had to take you to dinner.” He chuckles, shutting the door behind him when you both enter your apartment. “It sounds bad if I just took your virginity, right?” 

“No one would’ve known,” you giggle. 

“Yeah, but I would’ve and that doesn’t sit right with me.” Johnny takes your jacket when you strip it off, hanging it on the coat rack with his. “Contrary to your belief, I am capable of treating women well.”

“So you take every hookup to a fancy dinner before fucking them?” 

“Well no,” he pauses. “But that’s not what hookups expect and before you say it, I’ve already told you this isn't a hookup.” 

“What would you call it?”

“Being a good friend.” He flashes you a wicked grin before he cups your cheeks with his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. “I know you’re nervous, but I promise I’ll take care of you.” 

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. You’re talking a lot,” he giggles. “You’re also being a little brat, again.” He scrunches his nose before a smile appears.

“Sorry,” you sigh in defeat, slowly pulling his hands down from your cheeks. “I don’t know how to go about this.”

“Let’s start off by going to your room and we’ll see where to go from there.” He gently grabs your hand before leading you to your bedroom. 

You both climb onto your bed with your backs against the headboard. Your heart thumps against your chest and you’re fully convinced Johnny could hear it. Biting down on your bottom lip, your mind races at the thought of having sex with your best friend — seeing each other completely naked for the first time, questioning if it’ll ruin the friendship, the idea that he’s probably going to have the worst time because of your lack of experience.

You’re suddenly pulled out of your frantic thoughts when Johnny gently takes a hold of your chin and turns  your head towards him with his lips centimeters away from yours. 

“You’re overthinking,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss against your lips. 

You slowly move your lips with his, feeling his large hand glide up your thigh and under the short wine colored silk dress you wore to dinner. Shifting your body, a tiny hum is heard from Johnny before he deepens the kiss further. Parting his lips slightly, you take the opportunity to run your tongue over his bottom lip before he slowly pulls away. 

Johnny gently tugs on your arm, pulling you onto his lap. Your short dress rides up your thighs as you place a knee on either side of him. 

A large hand grips the back of your neck, pulling your lips back onto his, while the other safely rests on your hip, unmoved. Your hand presses against his clothed chest, feeling the buttons of his long sleeved dress shirt press against the palm of your hand. 

Your heart races as his lips move with yours. Electricity runs through your veins and your face flushes with heat. Your fingers slowly undo the buttons of his shirt and with his lack of objection, you remind yourself that he’s okay with it. 

His hand moves from your hip to the small of your back, pulling your body closer into his. Gently running over your tongue with his, his grip on the back of your neck tightens slightly, needing to keep you in place. 

When you reach the last button, your cold hands rest against his toned stomach and send shivers down his spine. You gently remove his grasp on your neck before pushing the fabric down his shoulders. It’s not too long until the white fabric meets your bedroom floor. Your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him closer.

His hands meet your waist, using them to push your dress up your body. Pulling back, you raise your arms to let Johnny pull it over your head and let the silk fabric slip onto the floor and on top of his shirt. 

You gently push your palm against his chest, forcing him to rest against the pillows behind him. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you trail your lips down his jaw, then give him another kiss on his neck. His hand rests on the back of your head, softly pushing you into the crook of his neck and silently urging you to leave your mark on his body. Your lips part, taking his tender skin between your lips and sucking on it — hard. You feel his chest move up and down beneath your breasts. 

Breathless moans part his lips, feeling his calloused hands rub over your back. Pulling away, you admire the red mark that contrasts his pale skin. You continue to trail kisses down Johnny’s chest until you reach the waistband of his pants, undoing his belt and button that’s holding his pants together. Johnny lifts his hips and you tug on the material, removing it from his body.

His erection springs up. You position yourself so Johnny’s leg rests between your thighs. When you pause, he senses your hesitation and lifts your chin to look at him. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” you embarrassingly admit.

Johnny gives you a small laugh and a kind smile. “As long as you don’t bite it off, anything you do is fine.” He uses the pad of his thumb to run over your bottom lip. “It’s just licking and sucking, like a popsicle. Can’t promise it’ll taste like one, though.” 

You smile at his attempt to ease your mind. Carefully taking a hold of his shaft, you roll your tongue over his leaking tip before wrapping your lips around it. You sink his shaft into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head up and down. 

“There you go, just like that.” Johnny whispers, throwing his head back against your headboard from the warmth of your mouth and letting out a groan.

You feel his cock harden even more as you bob your head, allowing your saliva to coat his member fully before slicking your hand up and down simultaneously with your mouth. 

“Fuck,” Johnny mutters breathlessly. His brows knit together and his jaw slacks open, speechless at the sight and feeling of your lips wrapped around him. 

You flatten your tongue against his length, licking a strip from the base of his cock to his tip before engulfing him fully into your mouth and allowing his tip to hit your throat. You gag around his cock and the tears brimming your waterline blurs your line of vision. You pull away, catching your breath as you slick your wrist up and down his shaft.

Johnny’s hand grip the sheets under him, biting down on his bottom lip before a shaky moan escapes from between his lips. His chest moves up and down, a slight red tint slowly painting over his chest. He sits up, shifting his weight onto the palm of his hand while the other tilts your head up to look at him before his grasp on your chin pulls your lips to his. 

“Was that okay?” You shyly ask as you break the kiss. 

“More than okay,” he chuckles. 

You weren’t fully convinced of his words, but don’t have time to dwell on it when Johnny kisses you again. He slowly leans back, having you following him without breaking the kiss. When you straddle his lap again, you feel his hard member press against your covered slit. Your mind runs wild with sinful thoughts of him being inside of you. 

In one quick and swift movement, Johnny is hovering over you with his knee separating your thighs. You can’t help but giggle at how smooth he is with his moves. 

“Something funny?” He smiles, moving a strand of hair away from your eye. 

You shake your head. “For what it’s worth,” you let out, your eyes softening at his gaze and lifting your hand to stroke his cheek. “I’m glad I’m losing my virginity to you.” You pull him down to your lips, giving him an endearing kiss.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he whispers in the space between your lips. His hands glide up your waist and to your breasts, pushing them together before his tongue laps over your perky nipples and kissing your supple skin. 

Johnny pecks kisses down your sternum and abdomen before stopping at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up at you. “May I?” He grins, fingers hooked onto the waistband, ready to remove them.

You nod, lifting your hips to allow him room to pull it down your thighs and legs before haphazardly throwing it behind him. 

Johnny widens your spread legs, using his long, slender fingers to stroke your excited slit. Collecting your arousal against his fingers, he parts your puffy lips before using the tip of his tongue to circle around your clit.

A soft moan leaves your lips as Johnny continues to circle and lap his tongue over your clit. His large hand massages your breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers causing a sensation of bliss course through your body. 

“You taste so fucking good,” Johnny mutters against your folds.

Your fingers gather a fist full of his hair, keeping him close. You hear Johnny groan as you tug on it, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin. 

As his tongue skillfully moves against your pussy, your moans grow louder. A fire in the pit of your stomach ignites and tingles course through your veins. A familiar feeling creeps up and you close your eyes, focusing on the way Johnny sucks on your clit. 

You bite down on your bottom lip and your climax hits you, hard, causing you to cry out Johnny’s name while he pins your lower body down to stop you from squirming away from him. You push his head back and see a mischievous smirk pull from the corner of his mouth. 

As you pull yourself up to look at him, you see him use the back of his hand to wipe your slick from his chin. Your hands press against his cheeks, roughly pulling him to your lips, causing him to giggle. Your lips move urgently before lowering yourself onto your back and having Johnny follow you. 

His long, slender fingers circle your sensitive clit and your body shudders under his touch. He eases off on the pressure, lightly rubbing your nub at a steady pace as he swallows the moans you let out against his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he softly and breathlessly lets out, groaning as your lips begin attacking his neck with open mouth kisses before giving him a gentle bite. “Your lips on my neck,” his voice hitches. “Are driving me crazy.”

You smile as you hear his composure slowly crumble. Continuing your movements, you feel pleasure building up in the area he’s circling. 

His precise and calculated movements fill your mind with haze, halting your kisses to breathe against his skin and focus on the pleasure. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, attempting to continue your movements only to stop a few seconds later, muffling your sounds in the crook of his neck. “I’m cum-“ you softly cry out before you’re cut off by a gasp that desperately part your lips. 

He watches as your thighs begin to tremble and involuntarily closing in an attempt to stop his movements. 

“Keep them open,” he orders, voice low and dominant. 

You comply, opening up once more before gripping his wrist to slow his movements. “T-too much,” you whine. 

His movements come to a stop, crashing his lips into yours. “Wanna stop here?” He sharply inhales before pulling away from your lips. “We can do something else if you change your mind.” 

You shake your head, catching your breath. “At this rate, if I don’t lose it now, I’m dying a virgin.” Your dramatic statement causes your best friend to chuckle. 

“Last chance to be able to join a nunnery.” Johnny whispers, teasingly.

You giggle at his words. “Shut up.” You smash your lips onto his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your fingers stroking the back of his head.

He breaks your kiss before making his way over to grab his pants you tossed to the side. He fishes for the pack of condoms in the back pocket of his pants. A frantic look washes over him when he isn’t able to find it. 

“Shit,” he groans in frustration. “I think I left the condoms in my car.” 

You both glance over to your bedroom window, watching big raindrops roll down the glass. 

“You said you've been tested and that you’re clean, right?” You ask, looking up at him.

He nods before catching on. 

“There's no way you wanna do it raw.” He shakes his head. “I’ll just run downstairs and grab it.”

“It’s downpouring,” you frown. “I’m okay with it, really. I’m on birth control.”

“You are?” He looks at you, shocked.

“Yeah,” you bashfully smile. “Since graduation.”

“You’ve never told me that,” he chuckles, closing the distance between you two.

“Was I supposed to?” You looked at him amused. “Would it have made you ask to take my virginity sooner if I had told you?” You look up at him, innocently, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“There you go again with your sassy remarks. Always hurting my ego with your words.” He smirks.

“You love me.” You grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Why else would you put up with it?” 

All he does is give you a smile before bending down to kiss you. He quickly positions his hips between your thighs. 

Adjusting your body, you watch as he slicks the tip of his cock over your slit, allowing his pre-cum to mix with your wetness. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He instructs, lifting your chin so you’re looking directly into his eyes.

You nod in response.

He slowly pushes into you until his tip disappears inside of you. Johnny continues to slowly sink deeper, with short strokes pumping into you, until he’s fully hidden in your cunt. He freezes for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. 

The sting you feel makes you flinch when he thrusts into you for the first time and you let out a small whimper. Your nails dig into Johnny’s forearms before he circles your clit with his thumb, helping you relax. 

“Is this okay?” He checks in and you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. He leans forward, giving you a soft, warm kiss. He moves as if he’s afraid he’s going to break you as his cock splits you open.

Discomfort slowly turns into pleasure and your mind focuses on how full you feel with Johnny inside of you. 

“Faster,” you softly beg. 

Following your command, his hips pick up its pace. Your cheeks burn with heat as Johnny’s thumb continues to rub circles onto your swollen clit. The lewd noises fill the room as your soaking cunt collides with the base of Johnny’s cock. 

“Harder,” you instruct again as your hands grip onto his waist. 

“You sure?” He questions. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you reassure, rubbing your thumbs over his bare skin. “I’ll be okay.” 

He nods and bucks his hips into your needy cunt. Your jaw drops when you feel how deep he is inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix with every harsh thrust.

Your skin slaps against his, adding to the lewd sounds you’re both making from pleasure. Your heart races and you feel yourself inching closer to another climax as Johnny’s cock hits your g-spot inside of you when you tilt your hips up for him. 

“God, you’re so pretty,” he softly chuckles as he looks down at you and a warm feeling runs under your skin. “So fucking pretty.”

You giggle at his words, covering your face in embarrassment. 

“No, don’t hide, baby.” He softly coos. “I wanna see you.” He interlocks his fingers with yours, pinning your hands into the mattress. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close causing him to deeply groan at your movements. 

His hips snap into you harder, causing you to jerk up your mattress. He releases your hands from his grip and buries his head into the crook of your neck. 

Your moans fill his ears as he continues to thrust into you. When you feel your skin begin to tingle, you drag your nails against Johnny’s back, leaving red lines behind before sinking your nails into his body, too distracted by the pleasure he’s giving you.

He feels your walls pulse against him and his deep, throaty groan is muffled against your skin. 

You choke out a warning before the tension in your stomach snaps. You feel your body tense up as you allow complete bliss to wash over you. 

Johnny takes it upon himself to help you through it, maintaining his pace as your warm and wet walls tighten against his shaft before relaxing. Your body goes limp as you bask in the pleasure.

“Are you okay?” He checks in, peppering soft kisses against your cheeks and halting his movements.

You bashfully nod, eyes glazed over and a tiny giggle leaves your lips. “I’m sorry if I scratched your back a little too hard,” you say, lightly rubbing your palms against his bare skin. 

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it, it was pretty hot,” he smirks. “Hearing you moaning was hot too.”

You let out a tired laugh, lifting your head to capture his lips with yours. 

Johnny thrusts into you again, making you gasp at his actions. He smirks against your lips, enjoying your reaction. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and place open mouth kisses against his neck. 

Johnny sharply inhales and a shaky moan parts his lips. “Keep doing that,” he encourages. “Mark me up. Show everyone I’m yours.” 

His words ignite a fire in your stomach, turning you on. You fully comply with what he says, sucking on his skin and leaving red marks against his neck. 

He penetrates deeper into you, clearly turned on with the way you glide your tongue against his neck. Grabbing your waist, he keeps you in place from squirming away from him as he pounds into you.

“Oh fuck,” he stammers. “I’m gonna c-“ 

He quickly pulls himself out of you, frantically stroking his shaft over your stomach and painting his cum over your soft skin. 

You smile at the sight, touching the warm substance with your middle finger before using it to rub your swollen clit. 

“Oh god,” he pants. “Are you using my cum as lube right now?” He gives you an amused chuckle and a lopsided grin.

You look at his erection in his hand. “You’re still hard?” You question in disbelief. 

He looks down to where your gaze falls. “It happens when I’m really turned on.” His cheeks blush a pink hue. 

Your brows shoot up in shock and you use the palm of our hand to slowly rub over his cock’s head. Looking up at him, you bite on your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna continue fucking me, right?” You ask, using your other hand to continue circling your clit with his cum. 

“Yeah,” he breathlessly replies. “You want me to?” His jaw drops open, etching the sight of you into his mind. 

You silently nod in reply. 

“Turn over,” he growls. He moves away from you to give you space to change positions. “Get on all fours.” 

You follow his instructions and feel him align with your entrance. Taking a hold on your waist, he slowly sinks into you. He watches as your dripping cunt swallows him fully and with ease. Your jaw drops, enjoying how he fills you up perfectly, like he was made for you. 

His cock plunges into you with no remorse. The sound of smacking flesh bounces off your walls and his deep, low, and gravelly grunts accompany the way he’s pulling your cunt onto his shaft. 

Your arms give in, making you collapse onto the pillows in front of you, muffling your sobs as his cock rams into you.

Johnny holds your hips up and your back arches to his liking. Your finger gathers more of his release from your stomach before sliding it up and down your slit. 

“Keep going, please,” you beg, your voice muffled by your pillows. 

“Only if you keep touching yourself like that,” he pants. “Make yourself cum on my cock, baby.” 

He feels your walls tighten around his shaft and before you can warn him, your body trembles as you allow your orgasm to wash over you. 

You attempt to shift your weight back onto your hands before settling on using your headboard to keep you up. 

He places a hand over yours while his other hand grips your shoulder, simultaneously pulling you down his length when he thrusts into you, helping fuck you through your orgasm. 

Your eyes involuntarily cross before rolling to the back of your head. Your mind goes fuzzy, too engrossed in your orgasm to notice how much of a mess you are. You’re sobbing Johnny’s name that’s mixed with your favorite curse words and sounds of moans that he absolutely loves to hear. 

He pulls your back to his warm chest, holding you up with his strong arms. His hips recklessly pound up into you, leaving you cockdrunk and speechless. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he gasps. 

You push your ass into him while your hands grip onto his hips, keeping him from pulling out. 

“If you don’t move,” he grunts. “I’m cumming inside you,” he warns, feeling your hips grind against him. 

“Do it. Fill me up,” you giggle, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. 

Your words are enough to push Johnny to the edge and he empties his entire load inside of you with a loud groan that he muffles against your shoulder. 

His chest heaves against your back and you feel him pepper kisses against your neck, trailing them up and behind your ear. Lifting his hand, he gently takes a hold of your chin and turns your head to face him — placing tender kisses against your swollen lips.

“Are you okay?” He whispers. “It got a little rough towards the end there.” 

“Mm,” you hum. “I might feel it tomorrow but I’ll be okay.” 

You’re both pulled out of the intimate moment when a loud clap of thunder is heard. 

Johnny slowly releases his hold on you and you carefully lift your body off him, feeling his creamy release leak out of you. You lay on your back, attempting to catch your breath. 

Johnny places himself next to you, inviting you to rest your head on his chest. He wraps his arm around you — his fingers lightly tapping against your waist. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, looking up at him.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he chuckles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Are you cold?” He reaches over to grab your blanket, pulling it over your body and his. 

You both sit there in silence, basking in his warmth. You nuzzle your face into his neck before whispering his name, catching his attention. 

“Do you remember when we were younger,” you gulp. “There was this asshole kid who kept making fun of me during recess?” You say the kid’s name, causing Johnny to laugh. 

“Yeah, I remember.” He shakes his head. “Why?” 

“Have I ever told you that when you told him to stop, I developed this huge crush on you?” You bury your face further into his neck, embarrassed at your sudden confession. 

“You did?” He asks, surprise dripping from his words.

“Is that weird?” You giggle, nervously biting down on your bottom lip. “If it is, it’s a total and complete lie, for sure. I never had a crush on you.” You reply sarcastically, having him pull you in tighter followed by a laugh that leaves his lips. 

“Remember when my best friend took you to senior prom?” He asks, pushing his hair back by his roots only for it to fall into the same position. 

You nod. “Yeah, how can I forget,” you chuckle. “He was my first kiss.”

“Yeah,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me, he would not shut up about it and I was pissed.”

“Why?” You lift your head, leaning your body weight against your elbow. 

“I had this plan to ask you.” He lifts his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “When he asked you and you said yes, I felt my heart physically break.” He laughs to himself. “I liked you so much, then finding out my best friend beat me to it, the biggest betrayal I ever felt.” 

“Well, if it means anything now,” you cup his cheek. “I was hoping you’d ask.” 

He places a tender kiss on the palm of your hand. 

“So,” you drawl. “When did you stop?” 

“Stop what?”

“Liking me,” you giggle. “Romantically, I mean.” 

He sits up, throwing his legs over the side of your bed — his back facing you. “Who says I stopped?” He softly laughs. You see him slightly turn his head to the side. Standing up and grabbing his underwear from your bedroom floor, clearly avoiding eye contact with you.

“Are you leaving?” You ask, watching his every move.

“No, unless you want me to?” He questions, turning to look at you. 

You hear another clap of thunder and the sound of rain hits your glass window, harder. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I want you to stay.” You pat the empty space next to you. “Plus, you promised me the boyfriend experience.”

He softly sighs, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. He resumes his position next to you and you rest your head against his chest again.

“When did you stop liking me?” He softly questions and you hear his heartbeat accelerate, nervous to hear your response. 

“I didn’t,” you whisper, looking up at him and scrunching your nose, knowing he loves when you do that.

Your response makes him lightly laugh, placing a hand on top of your head before stroking the back of your hair. “Yeah,” he sighs, pulling your body into his even more. “Tonight definitely was not platonic, huh?” 

“Yeah, definitely not,” you grin. “At all.”

── BONUS SCENE: FRIDAY, 10:03 PM

“I’m gonna pay for tonight, I’ll meet you guys outside.” Johnny lets out, pulling his phone out and preparing his payment method.

You and your group of friends thank the hostess before walking out the front doors. 

“We missed you last month,” your friend, Mei, smiles as she places a hand on your arm. “We were worried about you.” 

“I’m fine,” you giggle. “Just wasn’t feeling well that night.”

“You seem better now,” Mark chimes in. “Happier, even.” 

You smile and nod your head. “Yeah, I mean, I always look forward to seeing you guys, so…” you trail off, rubbing your arms with the palms of your hands as a gust of wind hits you. 

“Do you need a ride home or is an Uber coming to get you?” Mei asks, throwing on her cardigan. “I can take you home.” 

You shake your head. “My boyfriend is actually taking me home,” you softly let out, trying to ease your way into telling them you and Johnny are now a couple.

Your friends look at you in shock. “Boyfriend?!” They say in unison. Their overlapping voices cause you to laugh and you make out a few of their questions before shaking your head and shushing them. 

“Boyfriend?” Mark laughs. “Why didn’t you tell us during dinner?” 

“It didn’t really come up,” you shrug.

“Is he coming now?” Doyoung questions. “We’ll wait with you until he gets here.” 

You check your phone, seeing a text from Johnny who lets you know that they’re taking a while to get the total amount for dinner. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “He’ll be here in a bit.” 

“Wait, how’d you meet?” Mei’s twin sister, Maya, asks you, running her fingers through her hair before crossing her arms across her chest, attempting to keep herself warm. 

“I’ve known him for a long time now,” you smile, staying as vague as possible — a little shy to tell them who your boyfriend actually is. 

“Does Johnny know?” Mark questions, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. “Him being your best friend and all.”

“Yeah, he does.” You nod, watching Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise — assuming he knows how much Johnny actually liked you. 

“What’s his name?” Doyoung asks.

They all keep their eyes on the parking lot, waiting and searching for a car to pull up in front of you. 

Before you could drop the surprise, Johnny joins the five of you. He gently wraps his jacket over your shoulders before you take a hold of his arm. 

“Ready to go home?” He asks, unaware that you still have yet to tell them. 

“Yeah,” you smile up at him. “But I haven’t-”

The four of them turn to look at you, eyeing the way you’re clinging onto Johnny’s arm. 

“Wait,” Mei lets out, pointing at Johnny but looking at you. “You said your boyfriend is taking you h-” 

“Surprise?” You grin, slightly tightening your grip on his arm.

Your friends’ jaws drop, overlapping their questions once more as Johnny throws an arm over your shoulders and pulls you into his side as if he’s protecting you from their rapid questions. 

He takes the time to answer their questions as your body warms up from both excitement and nervousness. You suddenly feel tiny raindrops beginning to fall from above you. 

“We better get going,” you warn everyone. “Don’t wanna get caught in the rain.” 

Everyone agrees and says their goodbyes, congratulating you both on your new relationship.

The rain picks up and bigger, heavier raindrops begin to fall. Johnny lifts his jacket over the both of you and you both quickly make your way over to his car. You grab his keys from the pocket of his jeans, unlocking the passenger’s side door. 

Johnny quickly appears in the driver’s seat, throwing his damp jacket in the backseat. 

“That went well, huh?” He smiles, quickly turning on his car and the heater, knowing your hands are cold. 

“Yeah,” you giggle. “Thank you for answering their questions, by the way. It was a little…”

“Overwhelming?” He grins, taking a hold of your hand and bringing it to his soft lips. 

“Exactly,” you sigh. You quickly buckle yourself in and Johnny does the same. “You’re staying the night, right?”

“Of course.” He pets the back of your head before driving back to your place. 

As you’re both laying in bed, you have a rerun of your favorite show playing in the background. Johnny draws circles against your back as you lay your head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

“Johnny?” You sleepily call out.

He hums, pausing his movements. 

“Do you think you could you read me to sleep?” You yawn. “I’ve been reading a chapter of that book every night before bed.” You point to the novel on your nightstand. 

“Yeah, I definitely can.” He shuts off your tv and shifts in bed to grab the book. He opens the novel to the page you stuck your makeshift bookmark in as you make yourself comfortable. 

He begins to read aloud and you focus on his voice. By the time he finishes reading the chapter, you’re fast asleep. 

After carefully placing the book back on the nightstand, Johnny gently pulls your blanket up your body. 

“Good night baby,” he softly whispers before placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

[goquokka00]

Could you do Han coming home crying just stressed over everything and all he wants to do is bury his head between your thighs until everything goes away. He sees you curled up on the couch watching his fancam with Quokka. He asks you softly if he can have your taste to cheer him up. He ends up making you finish like 8-9 times while crying and nonstop with his tongue but you not wanting to stop him because of how upset he seems to be. Could you put a lot of praising and reassurance in it and eye contact? "Eyes on me baby", "Being so good for me, yeah?", "Does that feel good darling? Use your words sweetheart." "You can give me another one, can't you babygirl?"

Absolutely! Sorry it took forever, I'm kind of getting out of a mental slump. But I hope this is to your liking!

Stress Relief

Summary: When Jisung hits a rough patch in his mental health or work, he can't help but go to you to try and calm himself back down.

Pairing: Jisung X Reader (F!)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral sex (f! receiving), praise, overstimulation, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 906

It was a secret to no one that when Jisung got stressed, he'd confide in you. Whether it was because of work, or because of his anxiety triggering from who knew what, he'd always go to you. And today was no different.

Jisung didn't know what caused it. It could've been the fact that recording didn't go well. It could've been that feeling of dread, knowing he was letting Stray Kids down, even though Chan spent a good twenty minutes trying to reassure him that it was fine, and that there was always tomorrow. Or maybe it was that he'd be leaving to South America soon for tour and was terrified of what could happen.

All he knew was that he needed you. And after opening the front door, there you were. His saving grace. His angel coming down from heaven, arms spread for him to run into, and never let him go. His home, his life, his everything.

All you knew was that you had been in the living room playing Animal Crossing with a Hanquokka plush in your lap when you heard the front door open, followed by the sniffles and cries of your lover. And when you turned, you were met with your boyfriend coming to you, cheeks wet and eyes puffy from crying. And as if it were a reflex, your arms opened, allowing Jisung to take the place of the plushie, and hug you close.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Oh, your voice was so soft... it was soft and warm and comforting, and it only made Jisung sob again. He didn't respond, not wanting to respond. He just wanted to be in your arms like this, with your hand gently scratching at his scalp. Nothing could beat it. And then, you spoke again. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"N-No..." Jisung sniffled, clinging onto you more. You cooed, kissing his wet cheek. It was so gentle...Jisung couldn't get enough of it. And so, after a moment, you rested your head onto his, gently speaking to him again.

"Do you just wanna cuddle?" You asked. Jisung thought about it for a moment, only to shake his head.

"No..." Jisung then wiped his eyes, looking to you as he sniffled and hiccupped, his eyes and lips pouty. It was the cutest thing you've ever seen. "Can...Ca-Can I...Can I taste you? Please....?"

You should've expected him to say that. You gave him a soft smile, nodding your head as you ran a hand through his hair, peering into those sad eyes of his. You could never say no when he's sad like that. Never.

"Of course, Ji." It was as if it were instinct for Jisung to slide down your body when he heard your consent. You were only in a t-shirt of his and a pair of panties, and so Jisung easily slid them off, throwing them to who knows where. And instantly, he latched.

You let out a shaky breath as you felt Jisung suckle on your clit, his tongue occasionally dipping into your hole to collect your juices. His hands kept your legs spread, holding you down as he ate your pussy like it was his last meal. And your hand went into his hair, gently pulling. And that caused him to whine.

"Thank you...fuck, you taste so good, baby...oh, my sweet baby, being so fucking good for me, letting me eat this sweet, perfect pussy..." Jisung couldn't help but babble filth as he ate. He always did. And you loved it when he spoke like that, your back arching as a sweet moan left your lips.

"Ji...fuck, I'm gonna--" You couldn't even finish your sentence, cumming right into Jisung's mouth. He groaned, moving his mouth to your hole and slurping up every ounce of your juice he could get. You were delicious. You always were, like the sweetest nectar from the gods. And Jisung couldn't help but keep going.

Each time you came, every shake of your body, every arch of your back, every squirm of your hips, it only made Jisung more drunk on your taste, getting more and more eager.

Eventually, neither of you knew how much you had cum. All you knew was that you were so sensitive, squirming and whining as tears poured down your own face. And Jisung's lips were latched onto your cunt, following your every move without parting.

"S'too much, baby...please...no more..." You pleaded with him, bucking your hips as you tried desperately to get him off. And Jisung shushed you, looking up at your glossy eyes, your cheeks flushed with drool leaving your lips. You were so pretty like that...

"I know, baby...just give me one more...one more, I promise..." And with that, Jisung went all in. He needed one more, and he'd be better. Everything would be better. It took just a few more licks for you to cum one last time, squirting a bit from the overstimulation. Jisung moaned out, wrapping his arms around your hips and lifting your lower half to him, slowly easing you down and sucking you clean.

And once you were at his standard of clean, he climbed back up your body, resituating you to rest against him.

"Such a good girl...thank you, my baby...thank you so much, I love you so much..." And with that, he placed kiss after kiss onto your cheek, nuzzling against your face with his own cheek.

Oh, how he loved you.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d @skzlover24

[teliphone]

Sweetest Goal

Summary: Lottie Matthews and you are soccer opponents. Your coach warns you not to get distracted by anything. The rivalry between the two schools is big, causing fights to break out. Is it okay that your supposed enemy is saving you? 

Fluff <3

Warning(s): Bullying, cussing, typical school fist fights, Fem!reader 

Word Count: 5.3k

a/n: This is a remaster of my old (2023) fanfic I made. The old one was... interesting (bad), so I had to make it better. Hope you guys enjoy this cute fanfic!

-

Your lungs burn with each step. You ran with all your might, your eyes focused on two things. 

The soccer ball and the opponent.

She comes closer to the left of your peripheral vision. You breathe heavily as you thrust yourself forward. Sliding your knee against the turf with your right leg sticking out to kick the soccer ball. The ball misses the girl's feet by three inches and it goes rolling over to your teammate, Taissa Turner. 

While on the ground, you are able to catch your breath. You hear the crowd cheering as you watch your teammate kick the ball closer to the goal. She successfully dodges two opponents with her quick turns.

You push yourself up from the ground and start picking up speed again, just in case Taissa needs backup. But you were not required because she sent the ball flying into the goal. 

The crowd lets out a roar. Taissa spreads her arms out and comes running back to you. She engulfs you in a hug that nearly knocks the air out of you. Seconds later, you feel your other teammates crashing into the hug. They start to cheer and chant. You glance at the score. 3-2. Closing your eyes, you continue enjoying the cheerful spirit of your teammates. 

-

“Great job out there girls!” The coach beams in the locker room. The girls sit on the benches, patting their sweat with towels. Some were taking swings from their water bottles. You stand near the coach with your arms crossed. The coach tilts his head at you before giving you a proud slap on the shoulder. The action causes you to jerk forward. You bite back a smile. 

“That was a nice pass you did out there,” He compliments. The girls cheer and bang their fists against the lockers in applause. It sounds like thunder. 

“What you guys did out there is what a team is like. I am so proud of each and every one of you. Our next game is in a couple of days. I expect you to keep up the good work. I will see you guys at practice tomorrow morning,” He coaches. 

“Yes sir!” The girls salute in unison as a joke. Giggles can be heard among them. You feel a gentle hand touch your back. You glance up at your couch with a confused expression.  

“May I have a word with you?” The coach asks. You agree and he walks out of the locker room. You give Taissa a “what the?” look and she returns with an “I don’t know, good luck” look. You inhale a deep breath to calm your nerves. You follow behind until he stops near the bleachers. You brace yourself. He turns around and itches his forehead. 

“I want you to be more stern with yourself for the girls,” He begins. You drop your gaze to the cement floor and your shoulders drop. 

This again. 

When this year’s soccer season started, he picked you to be the leader of the team. You declined at first because you felt there was too much responsibility and expectations. You were afraid you would fail everyone. You didn’t see in yourself that you could be a leader, but apparently, the coach and your teammates see it. 

“… I am trying my best,” You quietly reply. He chuckles softly and pats your shoulder, causing you to look back up to him again. 

“I know you are, and I appreciate that a lot. These girls respect you whether or not you see that. I know it creates a lot of pressure for you, but that is the role of a leader. The season so far has been going extremely well. I expect you to keep this devotion. Don’t let anything distract you from the team's goal of going to the nationals,” He reminds you. His look is soft and encouraging. You nod your head slowly. His words sink in and suddenly you feel the urge to be better. To be a role model for your team. You love your teammates more than anything else. He sees it in your eyes and relaxes his shoulders. 

“See you tomorrow,” He waves. You watch him walk away for a few seconds before turning around. You walk into the locker rooms and a few teammates are already done packing up. They sit around chatting with each other. You zipline to Taissa, who has a locker next to yours. Giving her a tight smile before opening your locker. She watches as you shove clothes into your bag. 

Taissa is wearing the school’s bomber jacket. The sleeves are orange and the middle is black with orange detailing. The school's fox mascot logo is on the left side chest. 

Your school is called Urocyon High School. Based on the gray fox (scientific name: Urocyon cinereoargenteus) commonly found in the state of New Jersey. Foxes are known for their speed, cunningness, and smarts, which you believe represent your soccer team perfectly.  

“What did you guys talk about?” She asks curiously, taking a seat on the bench. Her hands are tucked in the pockets of the bomber jacket. You shrug your shoulders as you continue packing up. You try to sound nonchalant. 

“Oh, you know… The usual leader coaching,” You sigh. She chuckles and tilts her head up against the lockers. She looks at the ceiling with a warm smile.

“You’re a good leader,” She reminds you. 

You’ve expressed your concerns to her a couple of times now. She understands why you feel stressed, but defends you when you say you aren’t fit to be a leader. 

You shut your locker a little louder than you expected. You watch her with a stressed expression, eyebrows arching up and lips frowning. She turns her head to look at you with a curious grin. Quietly watching you wrestle with yourself in your head. She is used to this part of you. 

“Why didn’t he pick you? You’re so much more charismatic, strong, and brave-"

“Trust me. If I became a leader, I’d push the girls to the point of quitting. They would hate it. You know me! I hate slackers,” She laughs. You pause and press your lips together. 

“You have a point,” You blurt. She rolls her eyes while smiling. You put on the school bomber jacket to match her. Lastly, you zip up your backpack and swing it over your shoulders. She gets up from her seat with a huff, patting her hands against her thighs. You could tell she is already starting to get sore. She throws her left arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Let's go eat! I am starving!” She beams, dragging you along with her to the exit. 

-

You and Taissa go to the regular late-night burger spot. It is the spot you two always go to, and it quickly became a tradition. The bell chimes as she pushes the doors open. 

Boy, do you love that smell of grease! 

You two stand patiently before one of the workers glances over from where he was tasked. Travis, your favorite server. He attends a different high school, but you don’t know exactly which one. There are a couple of schools in this town. His eyes light up and he brushes his hands on the apron before walking over. He leans against the host station.

“The fox girls are back again!” Travis greets happily. Taissa waves her hands gloriously, as if someone placed a red carpet underneath her feet. Except there was no red carpet, but an old welcome rug that had been losing its bright red color. It looks a bit brown now.  

“You guys won another match today, didn't you?” He grins. Taissa crosses her arms and leans back til her shoulder touches yours. She has a smug smile. You quickly copy her behavior. You can’t leave your best friend hanging. 

“We sure did,” She beams. He happily nods his head. He glances at a certain booth and looks back. 

“Luckily for you foxes, your table is free. The usual?” He questions.

“Yes, please,” You answer. He gestures to you two towards the table and leaves for the kitchen. You plop onto the seat that faces the door while Taissa sits opposite. She immediately goes to mess with the condiments. She clicks the salt and pepper bottles together. You stretch your legs out and yawn, which makes your eyes water. The match earlier is starting to take a toll on you. You place your elbow on the table and lean your chin against your palm. 

“Are you nervous for the next game?” You break the silence. Taissa stops messing with the salt shaker. She straightens her back and gives you a stern look. 

“No,” She states. You sigh and avert your eye to the window. The moon hovers behind the tall trees. Street lights are illuminating the streets. The neon burger sign flickers, indicating how old the place is. You can see a few other cars parked in front. 

“I am,” You confess. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Just because we lost to the Yellowjackets every round last year does not mean we can’t beat them this year,” She points out. The mention of Yellowjackets makes you grimace. 

Yellowjackets from Wiskayok High School. The girls' soccer team, as much as you hate to admit it, is good. Your team and the Yellowjackets have been neck to neck for generations. The rivalry naturally became a thing. Wiskayok High School is closer to the South side of town, while Uyrocyon High School (your school) is located closer to the North. Both teams became the main competition in the town. 

You know all the members of the other team. You secretly search them up on the athlete's website. You analyze all their names and heights. It’s a little odd, you felt like you could be good friends with them if the situation were different. 

Travis comes back out with the dishes, snapping you out of thought. He slides Taissa her dish first, then you. 

“Anything else I could get for you guys?” He asks in a worky manner. Taissa shakes her head, and you thank him. He smiles and leaves to attend to other tasks. You two start munching like you’ve never eaten before. As if your stomach were an endless pit. Ketchup starts rolling down Taissa’s lip. You smile and reach over to grab her a napkin. 

The bells from the door twinkled again, revealing that someone had opened the door. You glance up and nearly choke on your food. 

Yellow and blue colors were the first warning indicators. 

Three yellowjacket boys walk in with a smug look. Two of them had their hands in their jean pockets while one leaned on the top of the host table. He uses his free hand to brush along his golden hair. They curiously glance around the place, indicating it’s the first time they’ve been here. As they look around, one of them makes eye contact with you. You quickly jerk your attention back to your meal and silently pray they didn’t recognize you. Your heart starts hammering against your chest. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see pairs of shoes gathering next to your booth. You let out a shaky breath.  

“Well, well, well, look who we have here. Isn’t this the foxie girls?” The blonde boy snickers. 

Foxie: Slang for sexually appealing; attractive.

You lower your head and clench your jaw. You loathe that nickname.

Though it can be empowering for some, it was meant to degrade the Urocyon girls' soccer team. Claiming that your team focuses on looks and body rather than skill. Which could not be more wrong. You’ve seen how much time and dedication your team has put in. On the other hand, you’ve seen the poor record score of the Yellowjackets' men's sports. An ongoing record of only winning two games a season. You wanted to taunt them, but then remembered you’re the team leader. You didn’t want to cause more trouble. You bite your tongue and sink more into your seat. 

Taissa had other plans in mind. 

“Well, well, well, isn’t this the failure of the school?” She mocks. That triggers the brunette boy next to the blonde. He slams both his hands on the table, rattling the glass water cups. He leans in close to her with a glare. 

“You should watch that pretty mouth of yours. Keep talking shit and we’ll leave a sting,” He threatens. 

“I’m so scared,” She rolls her eyes. The brunette keeps his stance, not backing down. Nor does Taissa. She glares back with the same amount of hatred. You nervously gulp from feeling the tension increases. You lift your hands to touch hers to remind her to keep her cool. 

The third boy with black hair finally pulls the brunette back. 

“Hey dude, we should just leave them alone,” He suggests. He playfully wraps his arms around his friend's shoulder, pulling him away from the table. 

You let out a sigh, not realizing you’ve been holding your breath. You almost thanked him. Finally, a Yellowjacket that is nice with human decency…

That was true til he had the nerve to utter more words. 

“They’re just a bunch of cock suckers winning their way up,” He laughs loudly.  

Your blood runs cold. With a quick move, you jerk your foot outwards in front of the foot closest to you. This action trips the brunette forward, pulling his black-haired friend along to the ground. Taissa gasps before laughing loudly. She holds onto her stomach and looks at you with sparkling eyes. She couldn’t believe you just did that. You didn’t either. Your lips curl into a small smile, hidden behind your hair. 

The brunette boy grunts and glares up from the ground. His cheeks are bright red from embarrassment. His friends try to calm him down, but he ignores them. He hoists himself up and begins to charge at you. You widen your eyes and brace yourself. 

Suddenly, a figure jumps in front. A girl. Long, wavy, and black hair that reaches just below her shoulders. 

“You guys are embarrassing me. Please go,” She groans, with a finger rubbing her temple in annoyance. Your eyes lower down to examine her more. Come to find out she’s also wearing a yellow and blue bomber jacket. 

She’s a Yellowjacket. 

“That girl tripped me!” The brunette boy whines. You feel the hairs on your arm raise from how cringeworthy he sounds. Taissa’s face scrunches in disgust. The yellowjacket girl crosses her arms and jerks her chin towards the door. 

“Leave or I’ll tell your coach you’ve been smoking weed before games,” She threatens. That threat seems to do the job because the three boys halt their movement. They quickly glance at each other nervously. The blonde boy clenches his fist and makes the first move to the exit. He tilts his head to the side.

“You’re lucky this time,” He says in a low tone. The three boys glare at you before exiting the restaurant. You watch as the door opens and rings again, then they disappear behind it.

The girl lets out a deep sigh and turns around. She makes eye contact with you. Her face is filled with shame and disappointment. From the angle where you sit, you had to crane your neck to look at her. You immediately recognize her from the athlete research you did on the Yellowjackets women's soccer team. 

Lottie (Charlotte) Matthews. The girl who has been praised for her skillful foot techniques.  

“Thank you… for helping us,” You test. You are still hesitant about Yellowjackets, but she did save you. The least you can do is show gratitude. Her shoulders relax and before she can talk more, Travis comes up. Basically pushing her to the side. 

“You girls okay? I just heard from another coworker. Sorry I didn’t jump in on time, I was busy in the kitchen…” He apologizes, but you stop listening and focus more on Lottie. She gives you a small, shy smile before quietly stepping away to return to her booth. Your cheeks turn pink from realizing how close she was. 

Her table was right behind yours. She must have heard everything you and Taissa shared earlier. 

 -

The crowd is noisy with numerous conversations. You glance nervously at the crowd and notice the seats are more filled than usual. This is understandable since your team is going to go against the Yellowjackets today. Today's match is played on Yellowjacket's home base. You examine the crowd more and see that there is a larger majority of yellow and blue. Makes sense since you’re playing in their territory. You avert your attention back into the field. 

The spokesperson introduces the Uyrocyon team first. Your team stands in a straight line. Staring at the crowd with heads lifted high to express confidence. Underneath your facade, your heart is racing. You cautiously brush your white and orange jersey. The crowd cheers respectfully. Except for the boy's sports team who boos, but thankfully they are overpowered by the Uryrocyon classmates who came to watch. The spokesperson continues and the crowd anticipates the home team players. 

“Everyone give it up to the Yellowjackets!” 

The crowd roars and thunders. You gulp nervously before peeking to the side. You watch as each yellowjacket runs out, waving their hands at the crowd. Your eyes naturally focus on Lottie. She is smiling brightly as she runs. Her hair swaying back and forth as she gazes around at the crowd. The long strands of her hair are tucked in a ponytail. After she runs to her position, she peeks at you. Offering a small smile once she finds out you are already eyeing her. You clench your teeth to stop yourself from smiling back. You look away first to keep your mind focused on the game.  

“Just a distraction,” You mumble to yourself. You pull your teammates in a circle and stare at their eyes. Giving a stern look, you give a motivational speech in hopes of easing their stress. 

“Remember the strategy the coach has given us. Stay focused and cautious. Work together as a team. I trust each one of you. We can do this,” You grunt. Your team places their hands on top of each other and pushes up with a scream. 

The chosen starter players run to the field while the rest run to the benches. You rush to the referee with Jackie Taylor, the Yellowjackets team captain. You give her a quick smile in which she returns. The referee tosses the coin and it lands on the side Jackie picked.

Everyone returns to their positions. 

It starts a little slow. Everyone is getting used to each other's play moves, but soon it gets heated. The Yellowjackets currently pass the ball around your team's goal. You feel a fear creep up your neck. Yellowjacket kicks a ball upward and Taissa fails to steal the ball. The ball spins to another yellowjacket, who hits her head against it. The ball goes flying into your goal. 

1 - 0

The crowd roars in excitement. Yellojackets cheer with each other. You see your goalie holding her head down in disappointment. You quickly run up to your goalie to clench her shoulders. 

“We still have time to catch up! Keep your head up!” You remind her. She nods her head and her eyes switch back to confidence. 

The whistle blows again, and this time, your team has successfully stolen the soccer ball. Taissa runs full speed to the other side of the field. You push yourself forward on the opposite side of her. She glances and sees your free space. She kicks it hard and the ball flies over to you. You catch the ball with your foot and continue running forward. Then Lottie appears in front of you. You halt to a pause. 

She is running to steal the ball. 

You quickly turn, but she is quicker and invades your space. Her foot slightly grazes against the ball and your eyes widen. 

How?! You quietly panic. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see another yellow jacket running up. If you waste more time, you surely will be cornered. Turning again, you see your teammate on the other side. You kick the ball and watch it roll over to your team. You left out a breath of relief. Lottie runs from you, but before she goes away, she turns her head slightly. You can see the corner of her lips smiling. That small move makes you clench your jaw. You will not let her treat you like you’re an easy target.

You run beside her to defend your team from her. She widens her eyes in shock at your sudden tactic, but quickly recovers. She stops her run and angles in the other direction. You quickly stop and turn to catch up to her. Your hand is extended out as she stands behind you. 

“Obsessive much?” She whispers, slightly leaning down to your ear.

“You wish,” You groan, staring straight ahead. The teammates are currently passing the ball toward each other. You hear her breathe out a laugh. She licks her lips and slouches further down.  

“I kinda do,” She sighs in a joking manner. Your ears turn red, and you spin around to glare at her. From this sudden angle, she is leaning down toward your face. You can see her moles up close. Her plump lips are close to yours. Your eyes widen and stumble backwards. She quickly leans back to straighten her posture, just as shocked as you. A blush forms on her cheeks and to avoid further mistakes, she runs away. You don’t understand why your heart is beating so fast. 

“What are you doing? Keep moving!” Taissa shouts at you. Right. You mentally curse Lottie for distracting you. You run forward to find a different Yellowjacket to block. But it was no use because, on the opposite side of the field, the yellowjackets had successfully earned another goal.

2 - 0

You fail to keep a calm composure. You glare at the clock and see there are only eighteen minutes left til the game ends. 

Your team loses 1-2. Within the eighteen minutes left, Taissa managed to get a goal, but it was not enough to win the whole round. Your teammates sit quietly and sulkily next to each other. No one is making a sound. They felt defeated again, as if no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t beat the Yellowjackets girls' soccer team. 

You stand in front of them, hands on your hips. You bite your lips. You couldn’t help but feel like this loss was your fault. You were distracted and didn’t give the game 100% of your attention. Coach warned you about this moment. 

“Don’t beat yourselves up,” You speak out to the team. You wish you could take your own advice. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself. You have to stay strong for your team. After a few more exchanges of bits of advice and conversations from the coach, the team is heading towards their cars. You stay last to ponder over your actions. You lean into your car seat and shut your eyes. An image of Lottie appears in your head. 

“No distractions,” You softly mumble. 

-

It's the next day and you stand in front of the mirror, awkwardly staring at yourself. You had on your party outfit, but were not really in the mood. Your coach had made all your teammates go to a party with other soccer players in the district to “make friends”. As much as your teammates begged not to go, he said this is for the greater good of sportsmanship. 

So here you are now, standing awkwardly amongst the crowd with a red cup in hand. You take small sips of the bitter liquid, not hoping to get flat out drunk. Loud waves of laughter and conversations can be heard all around you. Not to mention the mix smells of cigs and weed. 

It’s dark out with a few lights and a fire pit illuminating the area. You scan around in hopes of finding your teammates. You hoped they didn’t ditch. Your eyes move among the people and stop at a certain girl. 

Lottie stands in a circle with her friends, giggling and waving the cigarette between her fingers. She taps the bud with her thumb as she nods her head. Her outfit is pink, which matches her really well. She lowers the cigarette and turns her head slightly, making eye contact with you. Her eyes widen in glee and she lifts her hand to wave. 

You’re a bit awkward. Shyly smiling and slowly lifting your hands. You could barely manage a full wave before Taissa crashes into you. The liquid in your cup splashes around and drips on the side. She chuckles and wraps her arms around you in a hug. 

“So glad I found you,” She mumbles into your hair. You give her a playful cringe and try to shove her away. You sneak a peek back towards Lottie, but she’s already looking away. You try not to show your disappointment by looking back at Taissa. 

The rest of the night consists of you making “accidental” eye contact with Lottie. She looks away first most of the time, making it feel like you’re staring too much. You didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, so you stopped. You even avoided her when she was close in the circle of friends. Currently, you're swaying your body slowly to the music while closing your eyes. 

“Yo, bro. It’s those girls from the restaurant,” You hear familiar voices whisper behind you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. Footsteps quickly approach you. Suddenly, you feel a hard tug on your shoulders. You gasp in shock and pain. 

“Funny to find you here,” The brunette boy greets. The blonde boy lifts a cigarette towards his lips and takes a long drag. His eyes slowly scan your body. A smile appears on his lips as he blows out the smoke. 

“Holy shit you’re actually kinda hot?” He chuckles. He takes a step closer to you, causing you to step back. You clench the red cup. You try to cover yourself with your hands as an attempt to feel safe. His eyes darken a little. He flicks the cig onto the ground and places his hands on your hip. You immediately slap his hands away, glaring at him angrily. 

“Get away from me,” You snap. Taissa turns around from her conversation. Once she sees the conflict, she quickly pushes people out of the way and rushes toward you. 

“Come on now, pretty girls should-”

Before he could continue, Taissa shoves him away… hard. He slams against his friends. The commotion creates attention, causing people to be silent and look over. Soon, a small circle forms around you. 

“Fucken bitches!” The black hair boy barks. He clenches his fist and starts running towards you. He stumbles over his footsteps a bit due to the amount of alcohol in his system. He sways his fist towards your face, but you quickly dodge. He stumbles from his weight and nearly falls over. He regains his balance and charges at you again. From the corner of your eyes, you can see a group of girls joining in the circle. You figured out who they were. The Yellowjackets girls' soccer team. 

“Hey, stop it!” Jackie Taylor yells. The rest of the girls block the boys from you and Taissa. Lottie rushes to stand in front of you like a shield. She crosses her arms in annoyance. 

“Didn’t I warn you guys last time?” She grumbles. You glance around to see many people joining to watch the fight. You lower your head close to Lottie's back to cover your face. You didn’t want to draw attention, especially for something like this. Your coach would not be pleased. 

The boys ignore her and swing their fists again. The blonde boy wrestles against the girls, leaving the brunette to face Lottie. With the chaos stirring, Lottie doesn’t realize the brunette boy charging to punch her face. You couldn’t warn her fast enough and his fist connects with her cheek. She loudly grunts and stumbles back. She lifts her hands to touch her lower lip. Blood paints her fingers. She glares at him between her heavy-lidded eyes. Your eyes widen in shock. Lottie got punched because she was trying to help you. Without a second thought, you slam your body against his stomach. He gasps in confusion. You weren’t a strong fighter. You clench onto his body and he tries to pry you off him. You are not moving one bit, like you were glued. You didn’t want him to hurt Lottie again. 

“Get this girl off me!” He begs, digging his fingers into your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut and grunt against his attempt to push you off. Lottie watches with her eyes wide. A small chuckle escapes her broken lip. She couldn’t believe you would do something like this. She was about to join the fight to help you, but a group of football players came in to break up the fight. 

-

You don’t really know what happens next, but you're sitting on the concrete floor of the sidewalk. Your fingers gently rub the side of your hips. It feels like it's bruised by how hard the boy was clawing at you. You hiss each time you press your fingers in. 

“Need time alone?” You hear Lottie ask from beside you. You turn your head up to look at her. The street lights shine perfectly against her face. You quietly shake your head and she smiles. She plops herself next to you with a soft grunt. Her hands are placed beside her as she looks up into the night sky. She doesn’t say anything else, too busy staring at the stars. You nibble your bottom lip nervously. 

“Thank you… Again,” You break the silence. She tilts her head to look at you. She breaks into a smile again, which makes your heart squeeze. She looks so cute in this setting. You avert your stare to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with those idiots,” She mumbles. Your lips curl into a small smile. The images of the fight flash in your mind, causing you to chuckle. Lottie leans her body forward to get a better look at you. Her eyes soften when she sees you expressing joy. She usually doesn’t see you smile since she only sees you hyper-focused during games. She likes seeing you like this. A secret promise she made that night to see this side of you more. 

“What are you laughing about?” She beams. You lift your hands to your lips to cover your smile. 

“I was thinking about the fight,” You reveal. She starts chuckling with you. She remembers how hard you were clenching onto that boy. It was kind of cute to her. The two of you softly giggle with each other til it dies out once you shyly analyze the cut on her lips. You slowly lift your hands towards her lips. Her breathing slows as she feels your thumb rub against the dry blood. You clean the area underneath the cut while she stares deep into your eyes. You lower your hands and glance up to make eye contact with her. You feel yourself grow hot as a blush appears on your cheeks. She gulps and slowly blinks. You both jerk your faces back to the empty streets, both blushing and nervous. You quickly get up from the ground. 

“I- I should probably go-” You stop talking when Lottie grabs onto your hand. Her soft fingers wrap against yours.

“Stay,” Lottie breathes out. Time seems to stand still for a moment. The sound of your heartbeat is louder than your thoughts. You nervously nod your head and return to sitting by her side. Her hands never leave yours- instead, she laces them and places them onto her lap. There was no need to say anything for a while. Both of you felt the same way. 

[lvnleah]

Maybe even an addition to the interview where bug doesn’t start there but halfway someone brings her in and says something like “another one of your special people wants to ask you some questions - like a long standing Arsenal person, maybe Leah cos she knows bug or Ian Wright or Alex Scott. I also feel like we need pics of Bug signing her own contract renewal with Arsenal as well

interviewer bug | bugs adventure’s

“Okay, bug, you be good for Lessi, yeah?” Lotte said, crouching down in front of you. 

You nodded, clutching your teddy of Win tightly. “I be good!” you promised very seriously. “I’ da best!”

Lotte smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be right over there, doing an interview with Tao. I won’t be long.”

You looked across the pitch where Tao was sitting on the bench while cameras were being set up. It all looked very official and a little bit boring. You weren’t sure why Mama needed to go talk on camera, but you knew it was to do with her contract extension which you were very happy about. 

“Come on, bug,” Alessia said, scooping you up easily. “Let’s go find some toys, yeah?”

You giggled as she swung you around before setting you down again. She found a ball nearby, and you kicked it back and forth for a little while, giggling when you fell over and Lessi helped you up again. But after a bit, your kicks got softer, and you started getting bored. 

Alessia noticed right away. 

“Go see mama?” You asked with a sigh, “I bored, Lessi!”

Alessia took your hand. “Alrighty, let’s go, little bug.”

Hand in hand, you walked across the grass toward Lotte and Tao. As soon as you spotted Lotte sitting in front of the cameras, your whole face lit up. You let go of Lessi’s hand and took off running.

“Uh-oh,” Tao whispered, grinning. “Incoming.”

Lotte turned just in time to see you, little legs pumping as fast as they could, red dungarees bright against the green. “There’s my girl,” she said warmly, her whole face lighting up.

But instead of stopping at Lotte, you made a beeline for Tao, throwing yourself onto his lap like you did every day.

Tao laughed, steadying you. “Hello, kleintje!”

“Hi!” you chirped, cuddling Win to your chest. You glanced around curiously at the lights and cameras. “What you doin’?”

“We’re doing an interview,” Lotte explained, smiling at how proud you looked sitting there. 

“What in…in-ter-view?” you asked, frowning a little at the big word.

Tao chuckled. “It’s when we ask your mama questions about Arsenal and she answers them.”

Your whole face lit up. You bounced excitedly on Tao’s lap, nearly dropping Win. “I wanna do ques-chuns too!”

Lotte raised an eyebrow at Tao, amused. “I think we’ve got a new journalist.”

Tao nodded seriously. “I think we do.”

You cleared your throat importantly and turned to face Lotte, teddy still tucked under your arm. “Mama,” you said very seriously, “who’s your very bestest friend at Arsenal?”

Lotte laughed, glancing at Tao, then back at you. “Hmm, that’s a hard one… I have lots of good friends. But maybe Lessi. Or Foxy!”

You nodded. “I fink Beffy ’cause she funny an’ she get me sweeties!”

“She is funny,” Lotte agreed, “What about Lessi?”

“She fun too! Leah no fun, she grumpy! She goes like this!” You said before doing your best impression of Leah. It earned a giggle from everyone. 

You thought hard for your next question, sticking your tongue out in concentration. “Mama, do you kick the ball really, really far?”

“Really far,” Lotte said, holding her hands wide to show you. “Sometimes all the way across the pitch!”

Your mouth dropped open. “Like a superhero!”

Tao chuckled quietly, doing his best not to interrupt.

“And Mama,” you whispered, glancing around as if sharing a very important secret, “do you win all the time?”

Lotte smiled warmly and leaned closer like she was sharing a secret too. “Not all the time. But we try our very best.”

You nodded, looking very serious. “That good. Win proud of you.” You lifted up your Win teddy, making him do a little dance to show just how proud he was.

Lotte giggled, “That means everything, schatje.”

“Mama, ‘nother question!” You smiled, “You like Arsenal food and sweeties?”

“I do,” Lotte smiled, giggling once again, “It’s very yummy isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “Tao like Arsenal food?”

“Oh kleintje, I haven’t had the training ground food,” Tao said, laughing as he tickled your sides, “I bet it’s very yummy like the Emirates.”

“Oh,” you pouted, “They no feed you, Tao? I tell Leah!”

Tao and Lotte both burst out laughing at that, and even Alessia, who had wandered closer to watch, let out a loud snort.

“You’re going to tell Leah?” Lotte said, amused.

You nodded fiercely, a serious look on your face. “She bossy boss. She make Tao get food!”

Tao gave you a dramatic grateful look. “Thank you, my hero.”

You beamed proudly and settled yourself even more firmly on Tao’s lap, looking very pleased with your new important mission.

“Alright, last question, bug,” Lotte said gently. “Then Mama’s gotta finish talking to Tao properly, okay?”

You nodded, bouncing Win in your lap. “Okay! Last one!”

You scrunched your nose up in deep, dramatic thought before finally asking, “Mama… when I big, can I play Arsenal too?”

Lotte’s face softened immediately, and she opened her arms to you. “Come here, kleintje.”

You crawled off Tao’s lap and into your Mama’s, Win getting smooshed between you both.

“Of course you can! If you want to play for Arsenal one day,” Lotte said, pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’ll be your biggest fan. I’ll be in the stands cheering for you every single match.”

You grinned wide, cheeks flushed with happiness. “I score so many goals, Mama! I score ’leventy goals!”

“Eleventy goals sounds perfect,” Lotte said, laughing.

“An’ I gonna have my own Win too!” you declared, holding your teddy up proudly. “She gonna come on da pitch wif me!”

You cuddled in closer to Lotte’s chest, thumb finding its way back into your mouth, tiredness starting to creep over you now that your big important job was done.

“I think that’s a wrap for today,” Tao said warmly, smiling at the sleepy little pile you’d become.

Lotte nodded, standing up carefully with you in her arms. “Good job, kleintje. Best journalist in the world.”

“An’ best player one day,” you mumbled sleepily into her shoulder.

Lotte laughed softly, carrying you off the pitch, Win dangling from your little hand, the red of your dungarees bright under the late afternoon sun.

And if she whispered “I love you” into your hair a few times on the way back inside, nobody teased her for it.

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. michael robinavitch x nurse!reader

sum.: it’s your last week at work. there’s no way you’ll go into labor early, right?!

warnings: pregnant!reader, idk if it’s implied here or not but age gap (robby is late 40s, reader is mid 20s), reader and robby have a disagreement, robby implies she could stop working and she gets upset (he means well and is not trying to take her working away from her, i think i may have not portrayed him the best here), mentions of reader having a difficult pregnancy, mentions of assault of healthcare workers, they’re having a baby girl :), i think that’s all! minors DNI

note: loosely based off of a request! honestly, i lowkey hate this :( i’ve rewritten it like 5 time and this is the version i liked best. i have the bones for a part 2, or even a prequel, if that is something you guys want, just let me know! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 950 (ish)

You gasp, clinging to the chair you’re seated in at the nurse’s station as your abdomen contracts for the third time in the past two hours.

Dana, ever observant, raises an eyebrow at you, “You okay?”

You clench your teeth as you nod twice, “Braxton hicks,”

She squints, studying you closely, “For the twelfth time this shift?”

Immediately, you shush her, looking around frantically, “Don’t say that. We are not speaking this into existence.”

Dana huffs a laugh, “You need to tell Robby.”

“I would tell him,” You groan, placing your hand on your abdomen, “if there was anything to tell.”

She gives you a blank look before shaking her head.

“He’s going to be fucking pissed.”

Yeah, yeah he is.

“I’m gonna go check on patients,”

You get up with a grunt and try your best to walk away.

Only to be ambushed by your loving boyfriend.

“I really think you’re too far along to be here today. You should have started your leave two days ago,”

You roll your eyes, “I’m thirty-six weeks pregnant. Not an invalid.”

He sighs, grabbing your shoulders, turning you to face him, “That may be, but this pregnancy hasn’t been very easy on you.” He speaks in a low voice.

You sigh, closing your eyes. He’s right.

Not that you would ever admit it out loud to him, but it has been extremely difficult.

You were so sick from the moment you found out until about three weeks ago, your blood pressure has been either really high or really low.

It hasn’t been the best experience.

Michael’s been a godsend. Truly.

But he’s also been overbearing.

Every time you turn around, you nearly jump out of your skin because he’s right there.

“Look,” You sigh, “I love you, and I appreciate you. But you’ve been hovering, a lot. And I understand, but Robby, I don’t have an insane amount of PTO built up. If I want to stay home with her as long as we planned, I have to finish this week.”

His hands squeeze your shoulders, “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve told you multiple time that I’ll take care of all of it.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his hands off of you as you walk off to south 14.

Take care of it?

You know he means well, and truly you appreciate it. But you hate the idea of not contributing to anything while on leave.

You know if he had his way, you would have stopped working at the twenty week mark. Working in the ED isn’t the best for nurses, especially when pregnant. And it had been the source of many, many arguments.

He wanted you to transfer departments, to which you laughed in his face when he suggested it.

Robby knew how bad the ED got, especially for nurse’s. He’d seen them get verbally, physically, and sexually assaulted, spit on, and so on. He hated the idea of that happening to you.

Especially pregnant with his baby.

The further along you got, the more nervous he got. Especially since everything was so hard on you. He spent your whole pregnancy sick with anxiety, terrified something was going to happen to you. Happen to her. He prayed a lot more the past eight months than he probably has his entire life.

He just wanted you to be comfortable.

But, you wouldn’t be the woman he loves if you weren’t insanely stubborn. It was part of the reason he fell in love with you.

So he bites back a groan as you waddle away, knowing that this argument probably isn’t over.

He doesn’t glance over at Dana as she approaches, “I told you to stop bringing that idea up.”

“I can’t help it,” He sighs, “I just can’t help it.”

She hums, “Well, keep a close eye on her today. I’m pretty sure she’s in labor.”

Robby shakes his head, laughing slightly before he runs his hand down his face. Half torn between taking you up to labor and delivery himself or letting you be for a few more hours.

Whitaker jumps when you walk in, “Oh, hey,”

You nod, “Do you need help with anything?”

He looks between you, your abdomen, and his patient, “Uh, ye-yeah sure. Can you order some labs, an ultrasound and a CT? And then help me with the workup, if you don’t mind?”

You nod, looking over the patient briefly before getting to work.

You help Whitaker make quick work of his patient, drawing blood and starting the IV before CT comes down to get him.

“She’ll go for an abdominal ultrasound next, and then I’ll probably get Robby to-“ He cuts himself off abruptly, looking at you more alarmed than usual.

You turn your head toward him when he squeaks out your name, “What, Whitaker?”

He looks pale, “I would hate to assume that you just peed your pants, so I’m going to go with your water just broke,”

Oh, is that what that is?

You glance down, grey pants quickly turning dark as another contraction hits you, “Oh god,”

“Oh god!”

You turn to glare at the med student, “Go get Robby, please. And stay calm, just have him come here. Do not elaborate on anything.”

He just nods, rushing out.

Robby opens the door not even two minutes later, “Look, I’m sorry. But do we really have to continue this her-“

He cuts himself off as he looks you over.

“I don’t want to argue about this anymore. You were probably right. But you started this conversation here.” You groan and shake your head, slightly annoyed, “Now, are you ready to have a baby?”

Through the pain, you give him a big, but nervous smile that he mirrors as he takes your hands.

[arcane-vagabond]

Stranger Like Me: Chapter One

Stranger Like Me: Chapter One

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Content Warnings: Talk of murder, Talk of infant abandonment, The Pitt crew being the Pitt crew. Think that covers it, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3,073

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Writing Info || Blog Rules

The camp was situated in the middle of the dense jungle, various large tents surrounding the edges of the clearing with a couple of makeshift huts standing on the far side. It wasn’t a grand research facility by any means, but you still found yourself excited as you climbed out of the jeep, Frank and Whitaker not far behind you. You took a few steps forward, marveling at the canopy above you, the shadows of some birds circling before careening off further into the jungle.

Whitaker handed off the last of the luggage to Frank, leading the two of you towards the camp. Each tent seemed to house different equipment, and you could see the various scientific instruments as you passed by.

“We like to keep the work separate from the play,” Whitaker explained as the equipment tents gave way to what looked like living quarters. One of the tent flaps pulled back, revealing a pretty woman with glasses. Her eyes lit up at the sight of your little group, and a smile tugged on her lips.

“Oh, I guess they just invited anybody to come and work here, huh?” She joked, stepping out and walking up to you. You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes playfully, quickly wrapping the woman up in your arms.

“It’s good to see you too, Mel,” you laughed, pulling away so that she could wrap Frank in a matching hug.

“It’s good to see you, Mel. How long’s it been?” Frank asked, clasping her on the shoulder as the two broke apart.

“Been at least a year this August. Mike’s wedding, remember?”

“That’s right! Man, remember when his best man-”

“If you two are finished,” you drawled, crossing your arms and giving them a pointed look. “I’d like to continue with the tour and find out which tent is mine.”

They both gave you sheepish looks before Whitaker gestured for you to follow. He led you to a smaller grouping of tents that surrounded a fire pit, various pots with pleasant aromas sitting atop the grill as they steamed and bubbled. You spotted two people sitting at one of the tables, and their heads perked up when they noticed you. One was all warmth, her bright, blonde hair pulled back into a bun and blue eyes sparkling as she rose to greet you. The other was more stoic, his own eyes holding a sense of curiosity as they took your group in.

“We weren’t expecting you so soon,” the woman greeted, shaking your hand before moving to Frank. “Dinner isn’t quite ready.”

“No worries,” Frank shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Boots and I had a late lunch.”

“Boots?” The man questioned, turning a bemused smile towards you. You rolled your eyes and shot Frank a glare before giving him your name.

“I’m the primatologist,” you explained, earning a knowing nod from the man. “It’s so nice to meet you Dr. Evans and Dr. Robinavitch.”

“You can just call me Robby,” the man said with a half smile as the woman grinned.

“Well, I’m not technically a doctor,” the woman laughed. “But I’m Dana Evans. You can just call me Dana.”

“Not technically a doctor?” Frank asked, an eyebrow raised as he regarded her.

“I think a lot of people just assume I’ve earned one since I follow Robby over here around everywhere,” Dana smiled, nodding her head over at Dr. Robby. “But I never completed a doctorate or anything. That’s all him.”

“We keep her around to fix the generators and various other gadgets,” Dr. Robby chuckled, moving to stand. His grip was firm as he shook your hand, and you got the sense that he was the more stern and grumpy of the two. “We won’t keep you though. Whitaker, why don’t you show Boots here to her tent and Mel can help Frank get situated. You two must be tired after all that traveling.”

“That would be great, actually,” you smiled, already following after Whitaker towards the opposite side of the clearing. Another large tent stood a little ways away from everything, but not too far to where it would be a problem if anything were to happen, which you certainly hoped it wouldn’t.

“It’s a little ways away from everyone else, but we can move it closer if you want. This one was serving as a makeshift storage area until we found out you were coming,” Whitaker explained when you gave him a questioning look, drawing back one of the tent flaps to step inside. You followed suit, gazing around at the open space. A simple twin bed was pushed against the far wall, just sturdy enough to be considered permanent, or at least serve as a long-term accommodation. A desk was pushed on the opposite side of the tent, a simple shelf standing next to it, and you could see the wires running out of the tent to connect with the generator that sat closer towards the rest of the camp.

“I know it’s not much,” Whitaker said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked over at you, “but we tried to make it a little nicer for you.”

“It’s wonderful, Whitaker, really,” you smiled, moving further into the tent to put your luggage down. “It’s more than enough for me. I’m touched you all thought to go this far.”

“It was Dana’s idea, actually,” he admitted. You nodded, making a mental note to thank the older researcher.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he hummed, giving you a small wave as he exited the tent, securing the flap open behind him. You made quick work of rolling up the blinds to the makeshift windows of your tent, allowing for the natural lighting to filter in through the mesh screens. You found several tubs for you to place your things in, quickly unpacking and placing them under your bed.

A strange feeling overcame you, like eyes on the back of your neck, and you looked around to see if one of the others had crept up behind you while you weren’t paying attention. You frowned when you saw no one, stepping closer towards the exit as you peered into the jungle. You didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything there. You quickly pulled the flap shut. Whatever was out there would at least have to try and get at you now.

The sun had set, the fire casting a warm glow of orange around the camp as the generators powered the various lamps surrounding the outskirts of the camp. Dana was dishing out what looked to be some kind of curry mixture onto different plates, handing you one as you joined everyone near the fire pit.

“It’s not much,” she started, “but I wouldn’t say I’m the worst cook.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Trinity Santos smirked through her bite of food. “She’s a woman of many talents.”

“She really is,” Victoria Javadi nodded, the younger woman eagerly accepting a bowl from Dana. You watched as the other two women practically inhaled their bowls, and you took a tentative bite, an explosion of flavor bursting on your tongue as you chewed.

“This is really good, Dana!” You exclaimed, shoveling another spoonful into your mouth.

“And that’s the other reason we keep her around,” Robby joked from his spot at the table. You chuckled as Frank plopped down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his.

“How’s your tent?” He asked, a smirk on his face as he took a bite of his food, humming pleasantly at the taste.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the water Bob handed you before taking his own seat across the fire. “It’s cozy. What about yours?”

“I’m bunking with Robby and Whitaker,” he replied, casting you a sly grin. “But if you’re lookin’ for a roommate-”

“Absolutely not,” you snorted. Frank sighed, a look of fake hurt on his face as you rolled your eyes.

“You would really make all three of us sleep in the same tent while you get one all to yourself?” He asked you, mirth shining in his blue eyes.

You tapped your chin, pretending to think about your answer.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, I would. Besides, you’d probably just stink up the place.”

Frank let out an indignant squawk as Whitaker, and Victoria laughed at him. Whitaker cast a look over at Dana who was placing the lid back on the pot.

“Are you going to leave any out for Jack?”

“Who’s Jack?” You asked, looking between the two. Dana sat down across from Robby, letting out a sigh as she relaxed into the chair.

“Jack,” Trinity grinned, waggling her eyebrows at you, “is the wild man who lives in the jungle.”

“Be serious,” you scoffed, scowling at her.

“It’s true!” She exclaimed, looking at Whitaker for assistance. “He comes by the camp sometimes! Think I’ve seen him maybe five times since being here?”

“He’s around a lot more than you think,” Robby smirked, eyes cast towards the foliage of the jungle. “Those are just the times he’s let you see him.”

“Is he dangerous?” You asked, shifting a little closer towards Frank, but everyone shook their heads.

“Nah,” Trinity sniffed. “He’s just a loner. Comes by when he wants food or needs stitched up.”

“Why doesn’t he just stay here?” Frank asked. Dana and Robby shared an uneasy look as a moment of silence passed over the camp.

“Because he doesn’t exactly feel comfortable around humans,” Robby offered, and you frowned.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I thought he was a man?”

“He is,” Mel answered. “He just didn’t grow up around people.”

Robby sighed, running a hand through his hair. “About forty-eight years ago, Julie and George Abbot-”

“The famous primatologists?” You asked, your eyes lighting up in recognition at the names. The two had been trailblazers in the field, their focus being on gorilla social structures. Their deaths had hit the community hard, and their work had been largely abandoned until you picked up where they left off a couple of years ago. It was one of the reasons you had been invited to the camp.

“Yes,” Dana nodded, giving you a sad smile. “This was their camp originally. They lived and worked here for years, studying the local troops of gorillas. But, as I’m sure you know, poachers came after one of the troops, and the two died in the struggle.”

You had heard about the tragic story of their passing, the tale serving as a reminder of the danger of working in the field.

“What very few people knew, though,” Robby frowned, “was that they had a son. He was only a few months old when they died, and everyone thought that he had died with them.”

“That’s terrible,” you gasped, your hands covering your mouth in shock.

“It was,” Dana nodded. “But, he didn’t die with his parents like everyone thought.”

“What do you mean?” Frank questioned. “How does a baby survive out here on its own?”

“It doesn’t without help,” Robby stated, waiting for the two of you to catch on.

“Jack was taken in by the troop of gorillas,” Dana provided when the two of you cast confused looks at them. “They raised him as one of their own. We had no idea he was out here until we reopened the camp twenty years ago. We caught him going through one of the tents one day.”

“How do you know that it’s him?” Frank asked. “How do you know it’s Jack?”

“Because he’s the spitting image of his father,” Dana answered, earning a hum from Robby.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, scratching his chin. “Julie’s in there too somewhere.”

“So why didn’t he stay?” You questioned. “Why doesn’t he stay with you?”

“He never seemed all that interested,” Dana shrugged. “He’s curious about us, yes, but he doesn’t seem to want to leave the troop behind. He comes and goes as he pleases, and we let him.”

“We teach him what we can, of course,” Robby offered. “He’s a fairly quick learner, and he seems eager to learn when he is here. He shouldn’t give you any problems if he shows up.”

You turned to Dana. “You said that he’s around more often than we think?”

“I did,” he nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, because,” you hesitated, “I thought I felt someone or something watching me earlier. I didn’t see anything, but the feeling was still there.”

“It was probably him,” Dana nodded, giving you a gentle smile. “The two of you are new, and he’s just gotten used to the others being around. It’s no wonder he might have been watching.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” you smiled.

“I’m sure he won’t take too long to make an appearance,” Dana continued. “I give it a week before he comes slinking out from behind one of those trees.”

A week had passed and still no sign of the wild man. All of you had developed a comfortable rhythm in the camp. Robby would disappear into one of the tents, Whitaker trailing after him as they started pouring over the notes on the group of baboons that took up residence nearby. Dana would go around camp fiddling with the different gadgets sitting around camp. Mel would set off first thing in the morning towards the colony of termites deep within the jungle, Trinity and Victoria not too far behind her, and Frank would hike out with them, bringing back plant samples by around midday. You, on the other hand, were stuck at the camp.

“It’s probably best you don’t go out searching for the gorillas by yourself,” Dana had said. “They’re a hard group to find, and Jack is very protective of them. He probably wouldn’t let you anywhere near them right now.”

So you were stuck at the camp, trying to find odd chores and jobs to keep you occupied so you felt at least somewhat useful. You had started with trying to help Dana with his tinkering, but that had quickly become a no as you had little to no understanding of mechanics. You weren’t much help to Robby and Whitaker, barely able to keep up with their conversations despite your extensive knowledge of primates. You despised the way the termites crawled all over you when Mel went out to observe them, same with Victoria and her ants. Trinity moved at a pace that despite your best efforts, was far too much for you, and Frank…well, Frank was Frank.

So you busied yourself with cooking meals and doing laundry, slowly acclimating to the heat and humidity of the jungle. You quickly exchanged your pants and shirts for shorts and tank tops, the combination giving you a slight reprieve from the oppressive combination that kept you constantly covered in a layer of sweat.

The feeling of being watched came and went, slowly becoming a near constant as the days went on.

It was the second day that you realized some of your belongings had been moved. You had set your laundry on your bed, folded into neat piles as you stepped out to go and check on the food for dinner. When you came back, the clothes were scattered on your bed, thrown haphazardly across the sheets.

The seventh day, you walked in to find your shampoo opened, a small puddle of the floral smelling liquid on your desk. You had pursed your lips, but cleaned it up wordlessly, making sure to tuck it securely back under your bed. Your cheeks had warmed the next morning, despite the heat, when you found a bundle of flowers placed neatly outside your tent. You had smiled, gingerly picking up the flowers and carrying them towards the camp where the others were already gathered.

“What are these?” Frank asked, coming up to inspect the flowers. You tugged them back when he reached out to grab one, a scowl on your face as you swatted at him.

“Hands off,” you snapped, skirting around him and towards the table.

“Where’d you get them?” He asked unperturbed, plopping down next to you on the bench.

“They were outside my tent this morning,” you replied, barely catching the look Robby and Dana gave one another. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They’re fire lilies.”

“You just found them outside your tent?” Dana asked, eyeing the flowers in your hand.

“Uh huh,” you chirped. “I think I’m going to keep them on my desk.”

“Jack seems to have taken a liking to you,” Robby said carefully. “He brought Mel a rhinoceros beetle when she first got here.”

“I didn’t know it was there until I crawled into bed and it bit me,” Mel frowned, shaking her head at the memory. You bit back a laugh, hiding your face in the palm of your hand.

“I’m still finding ants in our tent,” Trinity muttered, as she cast a wayward grimace over at Victoria.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the flowers?” Frank asked with a frown. “I mean, I’m the one here who’s studying plants.”

“Are you jealous?” You teased, earning a scowl from the blond. “He probably brought them for me because of my shampoo.”

“What do you mean?” Whitaker asked.

“I came back to my tent yesterday to find my shampoo sitting on my desk. It looked like someone had squeezed some of it out,” you explained with a shrug. “It smells like flowers, so maybe he thought I would like the flowers.”

“Interesting,” Dana hummed, studying you. You shifted under her gaze, deciding to busy yourself with fixing a plate of food. Once you had settled back onto the bench, Frank turned to you.

“Do you wanna come with me to the waterfall tomorrow? I was going to go collect some samples of the algae growing there.”

You thought over his proposal. On one hand, you were bored to tears just sitting around the camp, waiting for any chance you could get to go try and catch a glimpse of the gorilla troop. On the other hand, you’d be stuck with Frank, and the man could be a tad controlling when in his element.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, deciding that dealing with a hyper-focused Frank was better than nothing. He grinned, tossing a piece of banana into his mouth.

“Great! We’ll leave bright and early!”

A/N: I gave in to peer pressure, so this is being posted today lol I’m working on other updates now too, so let me know what y’all want to read!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[rav1377]

Hold Me Closer

Ghoap x fem!reader

tw:none, lots of fluff and comfort in readers home for this one!

can be read in the But Sir! universe

you sway your hips to some pop tune on the radio as you prepare dinner, oven-made pizza. an easy day at the office today and you wanted to get into bed. so simple meal it was. the oven dings, indicating it’s ready to bake. you slip the frozen pizza inside before shutting the door and setting a timer. then, a knock is heard from your door. you weren’t expecting guests.

you peer through the peephole, hesitant and nervous. but all of that melts away when you see it’s your boys. well, two of them. yanking open the door, you pull Simon and Johnny inside. Simon holds a bottle of wine in his large hand. Johnny kisses you with a peck on the lips. Simon with a kiss to your temple. “what are you doing here?!” you exclaim, smiling. “och-nae much. we wanted tae come and visit ye, take ye out to dinner, real proper.” Johnny says. pouting, your eyes flit to the oven. Simon picks it up first. “wot?” he asks, eyes softening under his mask. “i put pizza in just now…it’s okay though, i can get ready and put the pizza in the fridge or something.” you say, starting to turn to your room. “no.” Simon says, voice commanding and heavy. you stop and look back. “it’s not really a big deal.” you explain. “no. we'll stay and eat ‘ere wit’ you tonight then.” he says, air of finality in the air. “unless o’ course ye don’t wan’ us here.” Johnny says. you shake your head. “no! stay, please.” the men nod and take a seat at your table. you grin, pulling three glasses from your cabinet.

when the oven beeps, you’re quick to stand, wine glass in hand as you pull open the oven, potholder in hand to pull the rack with your pizza out, placing it on the stove, you feel Simon behind you, hand on your hip as you pull plates from a cabinet. “where’s the cutter, luv?” he asks and you point at a drawer across the kitchen, Simon’s quick to pull it out, helping you cut the pizza into even slices. Johnny loads all three of your plates with slices before sitting back at the table. he frowns as Simon and you sit down, sipping on wine again. “ye got any ranch?” he asks, eyes staring at yours. you nod, “in the fridge.” he breaks into a smile and darts to the fridge, digging for his desired item. “bloody weirdo.” Simon scoffs, pulling off his balaclava to take bites of the hot pizza, tipping his head back and opening his mouth, smacking when it’s too hot. “it just came out of the oven!” you say, blowing on your own slice. “oh he kens, just chooses tae eat it, let it burn ‘em. ‘e needs to learn a lesson.” Johnny says as he pours a healthy portion of ranch on his plate, soaking a bite of pizza with it.

you can practically feel Simon rolling his eyes as he takes another drink of wine. the dinner moves by easier and easier, conversation filling silent moments, chewing and swallowing amongst it all. Johnnys finishes his final slice before leaning back in his chair. he’s going to hurt himself. you think, but stay quiet. “well bonnie, that was the best frozen pizza ah have ever had. ah mean it.” he slurs, now on his fourth glass of wine. who knew he was such a lightweight…

crash

Johnnys chair tips back and he’s on the floor, howling like a mad dog with laughter as Simon simply shuts his eyes and looks away from the Scot. you stifle laughter before standing, picking up plates. he’s still laughing as you rinse of plates, Simon coming up to help. he’s so silent, walks like the dead. or a Ghost. he dries them for you after you sud them up with soap and warm water. Johnnys laughter subsides, and he rises shakily, stupid grin on his face as he clutches his abdomen. “yer so pretty, lass.” he says, walking over to where you stand. “dance with me.” he demands, taking your right hand in his left, and leans away to pick up his wine glass in his right before tucking it under your left arm and up around, bringing it to your lips. you giggle as you’re pushed flush with his chest, and lick up stray drops of wine dripping out of the corners of his lips. he slowly begins to rock the two of you, footwork not the best. Simon returns the plates to their cabinet and crosses his arms, leaning on a counter. his heart feels full. the sight of all this is so domestic and different to him. differs from his own home life. you’d changed him. he’d shown Soap and Gaz his face for the first time a little after the elevator incident. they hadn’t judged or laughed, just like you hadn’t. it was only him, after all. Gaz and Soap were closer with him, pressing quick kisses to his face in the privacy of the barracks, touching hands as they reclined on the sofa with him. it’d begun with you though.

everything seemed to lead back to you after a while.

he wasn’t sure always about his feelings or what went on in his head, but he was sure there was something in him that went on just for you. so maybe that’s why that little feeling poked through and panged him in the heart as he watched Johnny stumble around with you. he itched to be close to you. he steps forward, small smile on his face. “olright i’m cuttin’ in.” he says firmly, lifting Johnnys arm from your hand. Johnny grins and relents, walking to the table to pour more wine. you look back at Simon and put your hand on his shoulder while he places one on your waist. he begins to waltz with you, like he’d done with his mother when he was a boy, making sure to not lose his footing or let his hand lead you astray. the two of you dance for a while like that, and he occasionally spins you before pulling you right back in his arms where you belong. Johnny watches from the table, head resting on his arms. you and Simon just continue you though, lost in the movements. with no one talking, a slow song comes on the radio, and you automatically fall into the easy rhythm with Simon. soon, the two of you aren’t even dancing anymore, just swaying in his arms.

you hear Johnnys snores first and look over at him, giggling. “i didn’t know he was such a lightweight.” you whisper, eyes looking back up at Simon. the big man huffs and nods. “yea. but that’s Johnny for ya. always the unexpected.” you nod in agreement with his words. “i guess we should go back to base…” Simon says, pulling away. your hands grip his biceps. “you can stay.” you murmur, looking up at his hesitation before quickly adding, “if you want.” he nods and looks away. you have a feeling something’s wrong, and you try to peer at his face. “something the matter?” you ask softly, cupping his cheek in your palm. he shakes his head, but you see tears pooling in his eyelashes. “Simon.” you murmur. he shakes his head again and you drop it, opting to take his hand and lead him to your room slowly. he follows, surprisingly, and lets you sit him on the bed. you kneel down to pull of his boots slowly, not trying to do anything sudden. hands on his knees, you peer up at him. his eyelids are still shut, and you see his eyes moving underneath. “Simon. i won’t force you to stay. is something wrong?” you ask. “no.” he whispers, voice almost nothing. his eyes flutter open but look everywhere but yours. “i-i wan’ to stay ‘ere. with you.” he says. you nod, fingers reaching to unbutton his jeans, helping them off his legs. you’re not sure what’s happening inside his mind, but it’s not yours to talk about yet.

he pulls his shirt over his head and he’s left in his boxers after you pull off his socks. still hesitating, you help him under the covers and run a hand through his hair before kissing his forehead. “i need to check on Johnny.” you murmur, and he nods. you leave, returning to Johnny who’s still passed out on the table. rubbing his shoulders, he begins to stir and you pull some of his weight up under his arms. “what’s happening lass?” he asks, bleary eyes looking down at you. “come lay down on the couch.” you say, guiding him there. he nods before saying “Simon sleepin’ here tonight tae?” you nod, affirming his question. “that’s nice. he really loves ye hen.” Johnnys words are slow and murmured as you lay him down on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over him. you look down at him before your eyes flit to where Simon lays. you love all your boys, you do, but this has the cogs in your mind turning.

what happened to Simon?

you walk back to your room and pull off your shirt, bra, and shorts before climbing into your bed with the big man. he turns, arms instantly reaching out to you. touching him right back, you sling one over his side and let his hands rest where they want. one slips under your head, creating a pillow out of his bicep, nose pressing into his soft skin. the other rests around your waist, keeping you close. your feet brush his and you run your leg up the length of his, tangling them together. he sighs heavily before drifting off to sleep. you rest as well, eyes falling shut with his face buried in his hair.

thank god it’s dark in the room so you couldn’t see the tears on his face that he was trying not to shed. you’ve treated him so well, and he just can’t get his mind around it. can’t fathom a reason why. so he just holds you closer, you crossing his mind.

[reidyourpalms]

on air - part 2

summary -> [ part 1 can be read as standalone ] back on the podcast by popular demand, revelations occur | george clarke x fem!reader

wc -> 1.3k

WARNINGS -> minimal use of y/n (only in dialogue), kind of a private relationship

masterlist | main masterlist

“so are we ever gonna talk about it?” max asked, halfway through setting up his mic. george froze mid-sip of his red bull. “talk about what?”

max gave him a look. “the fact that you and y/n turned our podcast into a will-they-won’t-they romcom and then dipped.” george tried to look casual. he failed, “we were just vibing.”

“vibing? you were blushing like a year 9 on facetime.”

george groaned and leaned back in his chair, covering his face. “it wasn’t that bad.”

“it was worse,” max said cheerfully. “the comments are full-on shipping you. half of tiktok thinks you proposed off-camera.”

he wasn’t exaggerating. the episode had gone viral - clips of george staring at you, you calling him “clarke” with that sly grin, the suspicious glances, the flustered dodges. fans had theories, edits, entire video essays on your “undeniable chemistry.”

and george? he’d watched every single one. with a stupid smile.

you hadn’t posted anything. neither had he. not because you wanted to hide - it just… hadn’t felt like the right moment yet.

until now.

two weeks later, you were back on the podcast. max invited you “for the vibes,” but you knew better. the glint in his eye when he texted you said everything. he was plotting.

you arrived early, coffee in hand, and plopped into the same chair across from george. he was already there, spinning slowly in his seat like a child.

“morning, clarke,” you said, grinning.

“morning,” he replied, eyes softening instantly. he looked annoyingly good - oversized hoodie, messy hair, sleepy smile. yours.

you sipped your drink. “ready to be publicly bullied again?” george chuckled, “honestly? not at all.”

max burst in ten minutes later with a camera in one hand and chaos in the other.

“right!” he announced. “we’re going in raw today—no prep. just vibes and exposure.”

you raised an eyebrow. “exposure of what, exactly?”

max just winked. george looked like he wanted to disappear.

“welcome back to the useless hotline,” max said into the mic. “the show where we take your useless problems and turn them into even worse advice.”

“and trauma,” george added, deadpan.

“today, we’ve got our favorite unofficial co-host, y/n!”

you gave a little wave to the camera. “back by popular demand - or maybe just to make george sweat again.” george muttered, “you’re evil,” under his breath.

the first twenty minutes were relatively calm. a few absurd listener questions (“is it illegal to marry my Roomba?”), some questionable advice, and lots of laughter. you kept catching george looking at you, and you didn’t bother pretending not to notice.

then Max struck.

he pulled out a card dramatically. “here’s a fan submission. ‘serious question: are george and y/n dating, or are we all just collectively hallucinating?’”

you choked on your drink. george froze.

max grinned like the little gremlin he was. “well? care to comment, mr. clarke?”

george opened his mouth, closed it, looked at you. “you wanna answer that?” you tilted your head. “depends. you still want to keep it quiet?”

he hesitated. just a beat.

then he shook his head. “not really.”

and just like that, he reached across the table and took your hand.

max screamed.

“I KNEW IT!” he yelled, standing up so fast his chair almost flipped. “you’ve been soft-launching the relationship on my podcast! for WEEKS!”

you laughed, leaning into George’s touch. “honestly? we were trying not to. he just has a terrible poker face.”

george laughed, cheeks turning pink. “okay, but so do you.”

max was still losing it. “this is the greatest day of my life. i’m putting ‘made george clarke go public’ in my bio.”

george leaned into the mic. “to be fair, we weren’t hiding it. we just... weren’t ready to let the internet have it.”

you nodded. “it was kinda fun being our little secret.”

max pointed dramatically. “you literally wore his shirt on this podcast last time.”

“exactly,” you said with a wink. “easter egg.”

the internet lost it.

clips from the podcast hit tiktok within the hour - george grabbing your hand, your quiet confirmation, max losing his mind. twitter was a riot. The youtube comments section turned into a digital wedding guestbook.

@/uselesshotlinepod: the last of us, ive been replaced (bus at least the ship is real…)

@/userone: THE SHIP IS REAL?? YOU BETTER NOT BE JOKING

@/chrismd: i fucking knew it, good job mate.

-> @/georgeclarke: i’m a lucky man

@/usertwo: THIS IS NOT A DRILL 🚨🚨

-> @/uselesshotlinepod: alert the town‼️

@/yourusername: at least now i can share photos of this pretty boy

@/georgeclarke: was always more than a guest tbh.

later that night, the two of you were curled up on the couch, still scrolling through the reactions.

“you realize people are editing wedding videos now?” you said, holding up a fan edit of your “romantic arc” from podcast guest to girlfriend.

george leaned his head on your shoulder. “i mean… they’ve got good taste.”

you looked at him. “so… was that your version of a soft launch?”

“mah,” he said, nuzzling closer. “that was me saying i’m kind of in love with you, on camera, while max yelled about roombas.”

you smiled, heart full.

“good,” you whispered, “because i’m in love with you too.”

ig i lied bc it’s out today instead of tomorrow. yolo.

p.s. thank you for all the love, keep the requests coming <3

[angeliccss]

Cleanse Me

Pairing: Joan Ramsey/Fem!Reader

Words: 7.6k

Summary: When Joan Ramsey takes you under her wing, she promises salvation. Bible studies turn into confessions, cleansing rituals blur into something deeper, and soon you can’t tell where devotion ends and Joan begins. In her arms, you are pure. In her hands, you are hers — and she will do anything to keep it that way.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Manipulative Relationship, Dubcon, Murder, Thigh Ridding, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, and a multitude of other things

Read on AO3

AN: I’m still on the pain meds so there’s probably a few mistakes, please don’t mind them. Enjoy! Xx

The church wasn’t large—just a modest brick building nestled between trees that creaked in the wind, like they, too, were always praying. The pews were old but well-kept, the hymnals worn soft at the edges, the scent of lemon polish and old wood lingering like incense. Outside, the world was loud and fast and crumbling. But in here, everything was still. Reverent. Safe.

Joan Ramsey had attended this church her whole life. She had married in it, mourned in it, buried a husband and son under its soil. She sat in the same pew every Sunday, three rows from the front, and never once arrived late. People knew better than to interrupt her routine. She was respected. Feared, maybe. But she called it righteousness.

She watched now as the other women gathered their purses, laughing softly among themselves, their children tugging at their skirts. None of them noticed you. But Joan did.

She noticed the way you lingered at the edge of the sanctuary, eyes scanning the stained-glass windows like they were speaking to you. She noticed the way you didn’t reach for your phone, didn’t gossip, didn’t even glance at the group of boys roughhousing outside near the parking lot.

She watched you and thought—She still has grace in her. Untouched. Unruined. It made something old and warm and dangerous stir in her chest.

She stood near the altar, spine straight as a ruler, watching the congregation filter out with polite nods and empty smiles. But then you passed by—quiet, head slightly bowed, Bible clutched to your chest like a lifeline—and Joan saw something that made her pause.

You were modestly dressed, not just out of obligation, but as if it were stitched into your bones. No makeup, no fidgeting, you were still. You were good. Joan moved before she could think better of it.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice low and gentle, the kind of tone she reserved for communion and confession. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” You looked up, startled. “Oh—I’m new here,” you said softly. “Just moved. This is my first service.”

Joan smiled—small, tight, deliberate. “Well. The Lord certainly has a way of bringing the right souls into His house.” Her eyes flicked down to your Bible. “Would you be interested in studying the Word a little deeper? I host a private group. Or—just the two of us, if you prefer.”

You hesitated for only a second. Then you nodded. And Joan’s smile widened just slightly, like a secret being kept.

The invitation came formally, the way Joan did everything. A handwritten note slipped into your hand after Wednesday evening service, written in immaculate cursive:

“Join me for study and tea. Friday at four. Bring your Bible and an open heart.”

—J.R.

You showed up exactly on time.

Joan’s house sat at the end of a long, quiet street. It was the kind of house that looked untouched by time—white siding, green shutters, hedges trimmed to military precision. The walkway was spotless. Not a leaf dared to fall where it wasn’t wanted.

When you knocked, the door opened almost instantly. Joan stood in a soft beige sweater, pearls at her throat, her hair pinned up in a perfect twist. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Right on time,” she said. “Punctuality is the first sign of discipline.”

She stepped aside to let you in. The house was just as pristine inside as it was out—lace curtains, polished wood floors, not a speck of dust anywhere. The smell of chamomile tea and lavender filled the air. A small table was already set in the sitting room, her Bible already open, a notepad neatly placed beside, and one set out for you.

You sat down carefully, almost afraid to disturb the stillness. Joan poured the tea in silence, then looked at you with that same calm, unreadable expression. “I thought we’d begin with Proverbs,” she said. “There’s wisdom in learning how to live before we concern ourselves with how to die.”

You nodded, grateful for the structure. For the quiet.

But as the study began—her voice low and steady, her fingers occasionally brushing the side of your hand when pointing out verses—you felt something underneath the surface. Something watchful.

She wasn’t just teaching. She was studying you, too.

You read quietly from Proverbs, your voice steady, careful. Joan listened with her eyes closed, her hands folded neatly in her lap like she was praying. But when you stumbled over a verse—“A gracious woman retaineth honour…”—she gently touched your wrist.

“Slow down, dear,” she murmured. “Let the Word settle on your tongue. It’s not a race to the end.” You swallowed, nodded, and tried again. Joan watched you with a look that felt too close, too focused. Not judgmental, not exactly—but something sharper than approval. When you finished the passage, she gave a small nod.

“Beautiful,” she said. “You read like you believe every word.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I mean—I try to.” That smile again. Tight. Controlled. “You don’t have to try so hard here,” she said. “I can see you for what you are. You’re special. Not like the others.” The words landed heavy in your chest. Praise, maybe. Or something more complicated. You didn’t know what to say, so you took another sip of tea.

Joan opened her Bible, flipping through the thin, fragile pages with delicate fingers. “People like us… we have to be careful what voices we let in. The world has a way of tugging at you, little by little, until you’re not sure what’s holy and what’s filth.”

She paused. “Do you spend much time with boys?” You blinked. “Not really. I’ve been focused on school, and… on God.”

“Good.” Her tone sharpened just slightly. “They don’t know how to treat purity when they see it. Most girls give it away before they even know what it’s worth. But not you.” You shifted in your chair, suddenly aware of the way her eyes lingered—not on your face, but on the slope of your shoulders, the line of your collarbone beneath your sweater.

Joan turned another page. “The Bible doesn’t speak only of sin, you know. It speaks of loyalty. Of devotion. Of choosing what is right, even when it’s not easy. Sometimes, what’s right… doesn’t look the way people expect.”

She looked up at you then, her eyes calm, resolute. “I think God brought you to me,” she said. “Not just for study. For something more.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The next session was quieter.

Joan had dimmed the lamps. The tea was already steeped when you arrived, and she greeted you not at the door this time, but from the sitting room—her voice drifting softly through the hall, calling you in like a hymn.

You obeyed without hesitation. She smiled as you entered, patting the seat beside her instead of across from her like before. “No need to be so formal, dear. We know each other better now, don’t we?”

You nodded, your Bible tucked close to your chest. She took it gently from your hands and placed it on the side table, not opening it. “We won’t need it right away.” You hesitated, unsure. But Joan reached out, brushing your hair behind your ear with slow, practiced tenderness.

“There’s scripture,” she said, “and then there’s understanding. Some truths are too holy to be written down. They have to be… lived. Felt.” She laced her fingers in her lap, voice calm, deliberate. “Tell me—do you pray for me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I—I mean, yes. I pray for everyone in the study. I ask God to give you wisdom and peace.” She smiled again, just a little too wide. “That’s sweet,” she said. “But I think you’re capable of more than that.”

Joan leaned in slightly, her presence overwhelming but oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a thick blanket you couldn’t quite move beneath.

“I think God sent you to serve something greater,” she said. “Some are called to follow blindly. Others are chosen to devote themselves fully—to walk beside righteousness and keep it protected. You’re not meant to blend in with the world, sweetheart. You’re meant to worship truth.”

Her hand brushed yours, cool and steady. “And sometimes,” she whispered, “truth doesn’t come from the sky. Sometimes… it looks like me.” You stared at her, unsure if she was joking—but her expression didn’t waver.

“You want to be good, don’t you?” she asked softly. “Yes,” you breathed. “Then be good for me.” Joan held your gaze a moment longer—long enough for something silent and unspoken to settle in the room like dust. Then, just as easily, she pulled away.

She reached for your Bible with both hands, lifting it delicately as though it were a sacred relic. “Now,” she said, her tone light again, almost sing-song, “let’s turn to the Psalms. I think you’ll appreciate the language in this one.”

She flipped through the pages with familiar grace, stopping on Psalm 91.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, her fingertip running gently along the lines. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. Isn’t that beautiful?”

You nodded, your heartbeat still a little too loud in your ears. Joan glanced at you with a soft smile, as though she hadn’t just asked you to worship her. As though nothing had happened at all. “Go on, dear,” she said. “Read the next few verses out loud for me.”

You did. Your voice wavered at first, but Joan listened intently, her eyes closed again like she was basking in the sound of it. Every so often she would hum her approval, or gently correct your pronunciation—never harsh, always firm. Maternal.

When you finished, she sighed contentedly. “You have a gift,” she said. “Not just in the way you speak the Word, but in the way you carry it. So many people read scripture and miss the spirit of it. But you… you let it live in you.”

You glanced down at your lap, flustered, but warmed by the praise. Joan reached for your hand again, briefly this time. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “You’re becoming exactly who God intended you to be.” She didn’t have to say the rest out loud. You felt it anyway:

And God speaks through me.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The gifts began to arrive slowly.

At first, you thought they were just tokens of kindness—gestures of encouragement from a generous mentor. Joan presented them casually, each one accompanied by a soft smile and a scripture to match.

The first was a cross necklace, delicate and gold, with a pearl nestled in the center. “It’s modest,” she said, fastening it around your neck herself, her fingers brushing the curve of your throat. “But meaningful. Like you.”

The second was a pale blue dress—long-sleeved, high-necked, cinched gently at the waist. It reminded you of something Joan might wear herself. “I saw it and thought of you,” she said. “So many girls dress for attention. But you deserve to be seen for your spirit.”

The third was a devotional book, leather-bound and worn at the edges. “It was my mother’s,” Joan told you, pressing it into your hands. “She taught me how to listen to God. Now I’m passing it on to you.” You didn’t question it. You thanked her. You wore the necklace every day.

And you started spending more time with her.

What began as once-a-week study sessions became near-daily visits. You helped her prepare tea, folded napkins beside her as she spoke about scripture and sacrifice. When you bowed your head for prayer, she reached for your hands now, holding them gently in her own. Her thumbs would sometimes trace idle circles against your knuckles, and you never pulled away.

During one reading, a strand of your hair fell into your face. Joan reached over without hesitation, brushing it back behind your ear. “Such a pretty thing,” she murmured. “You were made to be cherished. But not by the world.” She closed the Bible with a soft thud.

“The world is loud,” she said, her voice low and even. “And selfish. It tells you to take and consume and forget. But I can help you stay close to God. With me, you’re safe. With me, you’re seen.”

You didn’t answer right away. But you believed her.

She spoke with such certainty, such quiet power. Every word she gave you felt like a sermon, every glance like a blessing. And the longer you sat beside her, the more you found yourself thinking:

She doesn’t just speak for God. She is God. You wanted to please her. To serve her. To make her proud. And Joan—Joan looked at you like you were already hers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It started with a quiet tap on the pew. The following Sunday, as you slipped into your usual seat near the back, Joan turned from her place near the front and beckoned you with two gentle taps against the varnished wood beside her.

You hesitated—but only for a second. Obedience had become instinct.

You wove past the others, eyes dropping as you passed whispered glances and half-hidden smiles. No one usually sat with Joan. People knew better. But she gave you a small nod when you reached her, scooting just enough to make space.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice barely above the rustle of hymnals. “I don’t like you sitting so far away.”

The sermon that day washed over you in a blur. Joan didn’t look at the pastor once. Her gaze remained fixed forward, chin lifted, hands folded. But every so often, her knee brushed against yours. She leaned just close enough for her perfume—something floral and faintly medicinal—to settle in your lungs.

After the final hymn, she didn’t let you drift toward the others like you usually did. As Sister Carol tried to flag you down to ask about youth group, Joan’s hand found your lower back, light but commanding.

“Come,” she said. “I’ve prepared lunch.” You didn’t get the chance to respond. Joan guided you out the front doors with such gentle authority that no one dared stop her. Not even Carol.

By the following week, it was expected.

You sat with her during every service. Walked beside her after. Her place at the church became your place—while your friends, your peers, your other obligations slowly fell away. You even moved in with her on the weekends.

She noticed, of course. Joan noticed everything.

“I know it’s hard,” she said one afternoon, setting a plate of lemon bars down beside your Bible. “When people don’t understand what God’s called you to. They’ll say you’ve changed. That you’re too serious. That you’re strange.”

She brushed a crumb from your collar, then smoothed your sleeve with the same touch one might use to quiet a child. “But they didn’t see you the way I did. They didn’t choose you.” Her eyes were calm, but firm.

“You belong with me. And there’s nothing out there that could offer you more than what you’re building here. With me. With Him.” You nodded, too full of something—fear, awe, longing—to speak.

Joan smiled and cupped your cheek in her palm. “Good,” she whispered. “Now finish your reading. I want to hear you say it aloud.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It truly started when you missed a study.

You’d stayed late on campus—just one hour, just one meeting—and when you arrived home, the tea was cold. The lamp in the sitting room was still on, but she wasn’t waiting with her usual open Bible and warm smile.

She was standing at the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her silhouette stiff and silent.

“I’m sorry,” you said, setting down your bag. “It—it ran long, I should’ve—” She didn’t turn around. “I waited.” The words dropped like ice. You stepped forward, heart crawling into your throat. “It won’t happen again.”

Joan finally looked at you. Her expression was unreadable—too smooth, too calm to be natural. “I open my home to you. I feed you. I guide you. And still the world pulls you away.” Her eyes narrowed, not angry, but wounded. “Don’t you see how dangerous that is?”

You nodded quickly, desperate to make it right. She softened just enough to let you breathe again. “You’re young,” she said, stepping closer, brushing your hair back like she always did. “Easily distracted. But I forgive you. God forgives you.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep. You woke to the sound of movement down the hall—floorboards creaking, the low murmur of a voice. Curious, you crept from the guest room you’ve been staying in and found the door to Joan’s prayer room cracked open.

She was kneeling at the foot of the altar, fingers dug into the edge of the wood, rocking slightly as she prayed. “Protect her,” she whispered, breath ragged. “Keep her clean. Keep her mine. Keep her from temptation. From the serpent’s tongue. From the lies—”

Her voice broke. She pressed her forehead against the altar. “She doesn’t know what she is. What I see in her. What You made her for.” You backed away before she noticed you. But you didn’t sleep at all after that.

The next day, she said you needed cleansing. She said the world left marks, even when you tried to resist it. And she wouldn’t let you carry that filth in your soul. She filled the bathtub herself—lavender oil, rose petals, salt.

She sat behind you, fully clothed, as she poured water over your shoulders and whispered verses into your hair. Her hands moved slowly, deliberately, over your body.

“You’ve let something in,” she said. “But I can wash it away. I can clean you from the inside out.” Her breath was warm against your neck.

She guided you back against her chest, her arms enveloping you with the ease of ritual, like it was something you both had done a thousand times in another life. The water lapped gently around your body, warm and scented with lavender and rose—comforting, disarming.

Joan pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Then another, lower this time, just behind your ear. “Shh,” she murmured, her voice barely more than breath, “let go. Let it all go. Let me carry it for you.”

Her hands moved slowly over your arms, your shoulders, slick with oil and reverence. Each touch lingered. She whispered verses between kisses, her lips trailing a path down your neck like benedictions. The words were familiar—lines from Corinthians, Psalms, fragments of teachings about purity and surrender—but they sounded different coming from her, soaked in heat and devotion.

Her mouth found the base of your throat, open and slow, and your breath caught.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” she said, one hand sliding lower, the other spreading gently across your stomach, anchoring you. “God is here. He’s watching. He sees how much you love Him.”

Her voice dropped, breath heavy now, flush against your ear. “He sees how much you love me.” You didn’t know when your knees parted. You didn’t realize how tightly you’d started to grip her wrist beneath the water, only that you needed to hold onto something.

Her fingers slipped deeper, past skin, past reason. “Let me take the sin,” she whispered. “Let me cleanse you.”

The edge between scripture and sensation blurred. Each word she spoke curled around your spine like smoke—sweet, heavy, cloying. Guilt and pleasure tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell one from the other.

You gasped something—maybe her name, maybe a prayer. She smiled against your skin. “That’s it,” she murmured. “That’s it, my sweet girl. Let Him hear you.” Her hand never stopped. Neither did her voice.

And when you came undone, you weren’t sure who you were surrendering to—Joan, or God. Maybe both. Maybe they were the same. Later, in a daze, you wandered into her prayer room while she was on the phone.

You opened her Bible to find your name scrawled in the margins—again and again, in tight, looping cursive. Beneath a pressed flower, tucked into the Psalms, was a photograph of you from church.

It was worn at the edges. The page around it was smudged and softened from touch. Like someone had been praying over it. Or worshiping it. Or you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The next few days, Joan grew quieter.

Not distant—never that—but thoughtful, watching you more carefully, her touch gentler, her prayers longer. She’d cup your hands between hers during grace, her thumbs circling slowly over your knuckles. She’d fix your collar if it dipped, smooth the hem of your skirt with careful fingers, murmur that modesty was a virtue but so was obedience.

You stayed with her more often now. You weren’t sure when the nights away from campus became routine, only that Joan made it feel like the holiest choice you could make. She would smile when you said you felt safest here, like you were being called.

But you noticed something. A tension building beneath her calm surface, like she was holding back from saying something—doing something. Her prayers became heavier. Her eyes lingered longer. The touch of her fingers against your wrist, your cheek, your spine—it all buzzed with a kind of spiritual urgency.

That night, after study, she watched you with a fire behind her eyes. And when she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “There’s something still inside you, isn’t there?” she said. “A stain that hasn’t lifted.”

You hesitated. You felt… calmer, but the restlessness hadn’t left completely. Sometimes, it came back stronger, especially when she touched you. When she prayed over you. “I think so,” you murmured. “It comes back when I’m near you.”

Joan’s eyes darkened—not with anger, but with something deeper. Possessive. Certain.

“That’s because it knows I can cast it out,” she said, rising from her chair. “But some spirits… they root themselves inside. They cling to flesh. They hide where only a sacred hand can reach.”

Your breath caught. She knelt before you, reverently, like you were the altar this time. “I need to cleanse you again,” she said. “But not like before. This time, it must be deeper. Thorough.” She placed her hand over your heart. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded before thinking. “Yes.” She exhaled like a prayer answered. “Then lie back,” she said softly. “Let me guide you. Let me take what’s unclean and return you to Him.”

The lights in the room were low. Only the glow of candlelight flickered across the walls, dancing over the worn covers of scripture, the rosary strung over the mirror, the water basin beside the bed.

Joan had asked you to undress slowly. Not because it was indecent, she said, but because the ritual required stillness. Reflection. “This isn’t about the body,” she whispered, helping you step out of your dress. “It’s about what’s hiding inside it.”

She’d anointed your forehead with oil, fingers slick and reverent, then down the line of your throat, over your chest, your hips. Her touch never strayed far at first—only enough to leave you trembling, unsure of whether you felt exposed or reborn.

Then she led you to the bed, lifting the sheets like an altar cloth. She kept her robe on. Joan always kept her robe on.

She cupped your face and kissed your forehead, whispering a verse from Psalms, and you tried to hold it in your mind as she lowered herself beside you. But her hand was already sliding low again, trailing the line of your stomach, dipping between your thighs.

You gasped.

“Shh,” she murmured, breath warm against your cheek. “Don’t be afraid. This is what devotion looks like. This is how we fight what’s inside you.”

Her fingers moved slowly, deliberately, coaxing sensation out like a confession. “You’re not impure,” she said, kissing the edge of your jaw. “You’re worthy. Chosen. And this—” her touch pressed deeper “—is not shameful. Not when it’s done in His name.”

You arched into her hand before you could stop yourself, hips stuttering, breath catching. “That’s it,” she whispered. “Let me reach it. Let me take the sin and drown it.” She guided your face to her chest, pressed your palm to her heart.

“Do you feel that?” she asked. “That’s God’s will. That’s where He lives—in me. And now, in you.” You nodded, dizzy, your mind soft with heat and worship.

She guided you back against the pillows, murmuring prayers with each motion, her mouth trailing over your throat again, her hand relentless. The pressure built and built until you were crying out softly into her shoulder, until your body trembled with something too powerful to name.

Her lips brushed your temple, a final blessing. “There,” she said. “You’re clean now.” But she didn’t let go. Not right away.

Instead, she cradled you close, murmuring scripture into your hair while her hand rested possessively on your hip. Her fingers idly traced your skin like she was still drawing something holy into it.

“You’ll never need to feel that ache again,” she whispered. “Not with me. Not with Him. You’re mine now, sweet girl.” And part of you—quiet and buried deep—believed her. After the ritual, something shifted.

Joan no longer asked you to come—she told you.

“If you feel it again,” she said, brushing your hair behind your ear, “that ache, that heat… you come straight to me. No waiting. No hiding. No shame.” Her voice was velvet and iron. “I don’t care where we are or what time it is. You come. I’ll cleanse you. I’ll protect you from yourself.”

You nodded like it was scripture. Because it was. She had made it holy. So when it happened again—on Sunday, during service—you knew what to do.

You were seated beside her, of course. You always sat beside her now. You’d stopped talking to the other girls in the congregation, stopped responding to your old friends’ texts. Joan had told you their voices were too loud, too worldly. That they couldn’t possibly understand the purity you were being guided into.

You believed her. You had to.

That morning, the choir’s voices rose like incense, but you couldn’t focus. Joan’s hand rested on your thigh, a perfectly still weight beneath your dress. You could feel the phantom of her touch from nights before—how it had made you shiver and burn and beg. The feeling crept back again, deep in your belly, low and heavy, curling like a serpent under your skin.

You looked at her. She was already watching you. Her eyes were patient but burning, like she’d known. You shifted slightly in the pew, tried to cross your legs discreetly—but her hand caught your wrist.

She leaned close. Her breath brushed the shell of your ear. “Come,” she whispered. “Now.”

You followed her without thinking, slipping out behind the altar, past the rows of worshipers who didn’t look twice. Of course they didn’t. You were Joan Ramsey’s special project. The good girl. The chosen one.

She led you down a side hallway, through the vestry, into the quiet of a private room. The door clicked softly shut behind you. “Let me see,” she said, voice low. “Where does it ache?” You blinked, ashamed, aroused, obedient.

“Here,” you whispered, guiding her hand. Her hand trailed down, over your throat, down the center of your chest, where the cross necklace she’d given you lay like a brand.

“I think it’s time we tried something different today,” she said softly. “You’ve grown so much. You’ve trusted me. Let me show you a new way to surrender.”

You nodded, not even understanding—but needing to obey. She sat down on the little bench beneath the stained-glass window, the light casting soft colors across her face. She patted her thigh.

“Come here,” she said. “I want to feel how much you need me.” You hesitated, eyes wide. “Don’t be shy,” Joan murmured, voice dipping into that dangerous softness. “You want to be cleansed, don’t you?”

You moved slowly, heart hammering as you straddled her thigh, the fabric of your skirt bunching awkwardly until her hands smoothed it up around your waist. Her thigh was firm beneath you, and she adjusted you with practiced care, guiding your hips down until the pressure made you gasp. “There,” she whispered, pleased. “Now move for me.”

You did. Tentatively at first, rocking gently, the friction dragging across your center until your lips parted in a silent moan. Joan’s hands gripped your waist, steadying you, guiding you. “Good girl,” she whispered. “Look at you—so eager to be made clean.”

You whimpered as the heat built, the weight of her gaze as heavy as her thigh beneath you. And then she leaned forward, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw, her voice curling into your skin. “Next time,” she said, “I’ll take you with my mouth. I’ll worship you the way He would, if He could touch you like I do.”

You nearly sobbed at that—your hips stuttering, the sensation cresting. “Joan—”

“I’ve got you,” she breathed. “Let it go. Let it all go. I’ll take it. I’ll always take it.” You came trembling in her lap, buried in the scent of holy oil and candle wax, her arms around you like the arms of something divine.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The next Sunday, the sanctuary felt colder than usual.

You sat where you always did—beside Joan, hands folded, eyes forward—but your skin prickled with something uneasy. Joan’s hand rested lightly on your knee beneath the hem of your dress, her thumb stroking slow circles. Reassuring. Possessive.

She leaned over once during the sermon, whispering, “You’re glowing today. So clean.” Her breath made your skin burn.

But when the final hymn ended and the congregation began to move—stretching, gathering coats, exchanging soft pleasantries—you caught someone watching.

A woman from the prayer circle. Sister Marlene. Stern and tight-lipped, always in the front pew. She wasn’t talking like she usually did, wasn’t gathering her purse or adjusting her spectacles. She was just… staring.

At you. No—at Joan’s hand on your knee. You shifted instinctively, but Joan didn’t move her hand. Marlene approached slowly after service, her eyes flickering between the two of you. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Lovely service, wasn’t it?” she said, too polite. “Yes, it was,” Joan answered, perfectly calm. Marlene turned her attention to you. “Dear, I haven’t seen you with your friends lately. Are you still attending youth nights on Wednesdays?”

You opened your mouth, hesitated. Joan’s thumb pressed harder against your knee. “I—I’ve been spending more time with Joan. For study.”

“Oh.” Marlene’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “So much time, then?” Joan smiled coolly. “The Lord’s work isn’t on a schedule, Marlene.” Marlene’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course.”

She looked like she wanted to say more—but she didn’t. Just offered a clipped nod and walked off, back stiff with suspicion. Joan didn’t speak until the church had mostly emptied. Then she turned to you, smile gone.

“You have to be careful now,” she said quietly. “Some people don’t understand what’s sacred. They see something pure and twist it into something ugly.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Hush.” She cupped your face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But they’ll try to poison your mind. They’ll tell you I’m not good for you. That this isn’t holy. That we aren’t right.” She leaned in, her forehead pressed to yours. “Don’t let them in. You believe me, don’t you?” You nodded. “Yes. I believe you.”

“Good,” she said. “Then let me protect you. Let me keep you close.” And from that moment on, Joan never let you walk into church alone again. It started small.

A glance. A question. A folded bulletin slipped into your hand after prayer circle with a verse circled in red ink—“Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.”

Marlene didn’t say anything when she gave it to you. Just pressed her lips together in that tight, knowing way and walked off.

You showed it to Joan that afternoon in her kitchen, heart hammering. “She gave me this. I think she knows.” Joan stared at the paper for a long time. Then she smiled—but it was the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.

“She thinks she’s saving you.” Joan reached out, brushed your hair behind your ear, voice low and calm. “But only I know what’s in your heart. Only I know what it takes to keep you clean.” She folded the paper slowly, precisely. Tossed it into the sink and lit a match. You watched as the paper curled black and turned to ash in seconds.

“You mustn’t listen to her anymore,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “Her voice will only lead you away from what’s holy.” You nodded into her shoulder, breathing in the lavender oil she always wore. It calmed you—anchored you. And still, you couldn’t shake the way Marlene had looked at you.

But Joan didn’t give you space to linger in doubt.

She began waiting for you outside your classes, walking you home from school, dropping off fresh-pressed dresses for Sunday service. She texted morning and night—little things, scriptures and reminders:

“The body is a temple. Don’t let the world defile it.”

“I’m thinking about your soul today.”

“If it stirs again, come to me. No hesitation.”

And you did. Because even when it felt like too much, Joan knew how to pull you back—always with that voice like velvet, those soft fingers tilting your chin just right.

You began spending more nights in her home. She said it was safer. Said temptation couldn’t reach you here. You stopped replying to your old friends completely. Joan said their lives were noisy, and yours needed to be quiet.

But not everyone faded away so easily. The next Sunday, after service, you heard Marlene’s voice echo from the back hall—raised, urgent. “She’s a girl, not a disciple. And you’re not a priest, Joan.”

You paused in the stairwell, heart thudding. Joan’s reply was lower, measured. “And you’re not God. Be careful who you judge.” You didn’t stay to hear the rest. You didn’t want to know. Not when Joan would be waiting at the altar for you with open arms and a smile that promised everything could still be pure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You hadn’t expected to find Marlene waiting for you behind the church after choir.

She stepped out from the side path like she’d been there a while, wrapped in her brown wool coat, arms folded tight. The late afternoon sun cast the stained glass in fractured colors behind her—blood reds, holy golds.

“I need to speak with you,” she said, voice low. “Privately.” You hesitated. “I—I have somewhere to be.”

“With her?” Marlene’s eyes narrowed. “I know what she’s doing. You don’t have to be afraid.” Your breath caught in your throat. “I’m not afraid.”

“Yes, you are.” She took a step closer. “You’ve changed. You barely speak to anyone anymore. You flinch when someone touches your arm. That’s not normal. That’s not faith.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You took a step back. “She’s helping me. She’s—cleansing me. I’m better with her.” Marlene’s face broke—part grief, part fury. “That’s not God’s work. That’s hers. And it isn’t salvation—it’s control. You know it, somewhere deep down. Don’t you?”

You shook your head, too fast. “You don’t understand. She—she knows me. She’s the only one who sees me.”

“Then let me help you leave,” Marlene said. “Before she makes you forget who you are.”

But the sound of shoes on stone made you turn—Joan’s figure appearing from the far side of the path, hands folded like always, expression unreadable. “Marlene,” she said, calmly. “You’re upsetting her.”

“She’s a child.”

“She’s chosen.” Joan didn’t raise her voice, but something about her tone stopped Marlene cold. “And she belongs with me now.” Joan turned to you. “Come.” You obeyed without thinking.

That night, Joan locked the door behind you. Quietly. Deliberately.

She turned, and her expression shifted—softness undercut by a steel determination. “This isn’t working anymore,” she murmured, brushing your cheek with the back of her fingers. “They keep trying to steal you away. But I won’t let them. I can’t.” You stared at her, still shaken. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not going home,” Joan said. “You’ll stay here. From now on.” You blinked. “What?”

“I need to cleanse you more often. Not just when the urges come—every day. The world’s gotten inside you too deep. You need consistency. You need devotion.” Your knees weakened under her voice, the authority in it—so maternal, so certain.

“I’ll draw a bath,” she whispered. “We’ll start tonight. I’ll make you clean. Every day. No matter what.” She kissed your forehead like a benediction. “It’s the only way to save you now.”

After the bath, Joan took you by the hand and led you toward her bedroom.

The house was quiet, cloaked in shadows, but Joan moved with purpose—bare feet soundless against the floorboards, her hand warm and certain in yours. She didn’t say a word as she opened the door and guided you inside.

Her room smelled like cedar and lavender, like something older than perfume. Sacred. There were no personal photographs, no clutter. Just a tall wooden cross above the bed, a small table with a candle already burning, and the impression of someone who had made this space a shrine to her own sense of righteousness.

Joan turned to you, her eyes dark with something you couldn’t name. “Come here,” she said softly. You obeyed. She brought you close, her hands resting lightly at your waist, her thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles against your hips.

“You’ve been good,” she murmured, voice almost tender. “Brave. Open. Willing to be made clean.” You nodded, unsure whether it was because you believed her or because you wanted to. Maybe both.

Her fingers found the ends of the towel wrapped around you and began to loosen it—slowly, reverently. Like she was unwrapping something sacred. Joan pressed her forehead to yours, her breath warm against your lips. “Tonight, I’ll make sure nothing remains. No shame. No confusion. No stain.”

She led you to the bed and helped you lie back, smoothing your hair away from your face like a mother would—except the way her gaze lingered, the way her hands trembled just slightly, was something else entirely.

“You don’t need to understand it all,” she whispered. “You only need to trust me.” And then she knelt at the edge of the bed. She kissed your knee. Then your thigh. Then higher still.

All the while, her voice never ceased—quiet prayer-like murmurs threading through the candlelight and the weight of the room. You were dizzy with it, not quite sure where the ritual ended and the sensation began.

It felt like worship. And you weren’t sure who the god was anymore.

The air in the house had changed. Heavier. Tighter. Joan kept the curtains drawn now, every clock unplugged or removed. Time didn’t matter here—only devotion. Only obedience. Only her.

You barely noticed when your phone disappeared. When your Bible was replaced with the one Joan had marked through, page after page annotated in her careful, fervent handwriting. You didn’t question it when she asked you not to answer the door anymore, to stop speaking to anyone but her. The world outside was diseased, she said. But here—here, you were safe.

Here, you were saved. You were kneeling beside Joan’s armchair, her hand idly stroking through your hair as she read scripture aloud, when the door banged open. “Marlene,” Joan said without looking up, her voice calm, almost bored. “How rude.”

You turned to look, confused by the blur of emotion on Marlene’s face—fear, anger, disbelief. She looked at you like you were a ghost. “What has she done to you?” Marlene said, voice cracking. “What are you doing here?”

You stood slowly, instinctively reaching for Joan’s arm. “She’s helping me. She’s… saving me.”

“She’s hurting you,” Marlene snapped. “This—this isn’t faith. This is control. You have to remember who you were before—” Joan rose, her movement smooth, unsettling. “Don’t speak to her like that. She’s mine now.”

“You don’t own her!” Marlene shouted, stepping closer. “She’s not your disciple, she’s a scared girl and you used that—twisted it. You have to let her go.” Joan’s eyes sharpened. For the first time, her voice cracked like a whip: “She came to me because she was unclean. I made her whole.”

Marlene looked at you again, desperately now. “Sweetheart… please. Come with me. This isn’t love. This is a prison.” But you couldn’t move. Joan’s hand slid into yours, firm and grounding. “She doesn’t want to leave. Do you, baby?”

You shook your head. “I need her. She… she keeps me clean.” Marlene’s face crumpled. “You don’t even hear yourself anymore.” And then—it happened too fast to stop. The glint of something in Joan’s hand. The flash of motion. The scream caught in your throat.

A kitchen knife. From behind the chair. A single motion, swift and silent. Marlene’s eyes went wide, then glassy. She crumpled. You stood frozen, heart pounding in your ears. Joan dropped the knife and caught your face in her hands, forcing your gaze away.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Shh. Look at me. Don’t look at her. She wanted to take you from me. She wanted to ruin you.” Your breath came in shallow gasps. “She… she was my friend.”

Joan’s eyes filled with tears—not grief, but something deeper. Possessive. Holy. “No,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours. “I’m your only friend. Your only family. Your only god now.”

And as she kissed you—fervent, desperate—you let her. Because you didn’t know anything else anymore. The silence after Marlene’s fall was so loud it rang in your ears. You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just stood there staring at the dark pool on the floor, spreading slow beneath her like a shadow finally come to claim her.

Joan brushed your cheek with bloodstained fingers, soft as always. “It’s alright, baby. It had to be done. She would’ve taken you away from me.” Your lips trembled, but she pressed a kiss to your forehead before you could ask anything.

“We need to move her,” Joan said simply, as though she were asking you to help set the table for dinner. “Come now. Be strong for me.”

She guided you gently but firmly—gloved hands over yours as you gripped Marlene’s ankles. You moved together like a single body, dragging her across the floor and out the back door, Joan murmuring prayers under her breath the whole way.

The night was humid. The garden was quiet. There was already a hole. You didn’t ask when she had dug it. Your knees sank into the soil beside Joan’s as she laid Marlene’s body into the earth. The blood from her shirt smeared across your hands, your arms, your dress. Joan noticed. Of course she did.

She looked at you like you were the holiest thing she’d ever seen. “My sweet girl,” she breathed, reaching out to cradle your face in her red-streaked palm. “Look at you. Covered in sacrifice. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

You couldn’t speak, but your body leaned into her hand. “You helped me protect what’s ours,” she whispered. “This was love. This was obedience.” She kissed you again, reverent and slow, while Marlene lay at your knees.

And when it was done, when the earth was packed firm and the candlelit house welcomed you back in like a chapel, Joan led you upstairs and laid you in her bed.

She wiped the blood from your skin like it was baptism. And she smiled as she said, “Now we’re clean again.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The town moved on.

People whispered about Marlene’s disappearance, but no one came too close. She’d always been too curious, too loud. And Joan Ramsey? She was a respected woman of God. Who would dare question her?

The house grew quieter in some ways, and more alive in others. The clocks never returned. The outside world faded like a dream you once woke from in tears, but now couldn’t remember the shape of.

You no longer flinched at the touch of blood. You didn’t ask questions. You prayed when Joan told you to. You bathed when she said you were unclean. You wore the dress she picked for you each morning—long, modest, pale like innocence. The cross around your neck never came off. She fastened it herself.

Joan called you her lamb. Her angel. Her offering.

Each day began with her voice in your ear, her hand in yours, her rules like scripture carved into your bones. And each night ended with her body against yours, whispering prayers between kisses, murmuring about salvation as you clung to her like she was your god.

And she was. Because there was no life before her. Because you belonged to Joan.

Forever.

[fenya-scribbles]

Dizzy

network: @stayphone | @staynotes

Pairing: Seungmin x gn!reader

Other Characters: Felix, Changbin mentioned, Hyunjin mentioned

Summary: You had this crush for months, but tonight Seungmin finally does something about it

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Content warnings: kissing

Word Count: 832

A/N: Requested by @sheerfreesia007 for my 150 Follower Event :3 I hope you like it!! Also big thanks to @lov3rachan for beta reading, love you lots!!

“You’re doing it again”, Felix chuckled from where he leaned against the counter beside you. Embarrassed, you jumped and buried your face in the sleeves of your sweater. “Am not”, you grumbled, knowing full well that he was right. You were doing it again. Staring. At Seungmin. You had been doing it for months now, ever since you’d noticed the way your heart beat spiked when he talked to you. Or the way your face heated up when he gave you a smile. You hadn’t planned to crush on your best friend’s roommate, but here you were. 

It was one of the groups famous game nights. Currently, Changbin and Hyunjin were settling some “marital problems” in Mario Kart, and Seungmin was watching. He stood behind the couch, hands perched on the back rest, laughing harder every time one of them got hit by a shell or slipped on a banana and spun out of control. And you? You were watching. Staring. Far too sure that Seungmin would never like you back to do anything about the butterflies in your stomach. Or the heat that pooled a little lower when you thought about him for too long. 

But then the race was over, and he turned around, pretty brown eyes finding you in an instant. And despite Felix’s comment, you hadn’t stopped staring. A smirk spread on Seungmin’s face when he caught you already looking at him. For a moment you just locked eyes, heart beating in your ears, face turning red, but then you watched his expression change - cocky grin replaced by a look of sheer determination. When you saw him move, your hand instinctively grabbed Felix’s arm. “He’s coming over”, you gasped, but Felix just chuckled, whispering “Good Luck”, in your ear and then disappearing to join the others on the couch. 

“Hey Y/N” Seungmin’s voice was soft, but daring, when he reached you. You blinked up at him, heart racing, mind foggy, struggling to even get the word out. “Hey.” He smiled again, seemingly endeared by the state of you, and placed his hands on either side of you on the counter, effectively caging you in. “Have I ever shown you my room?”, he asked, leaning down just enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks. Your eyes went wide, your whole body tensed and you slowly shook your head. “Didn’t think so. You wanna see it?” At this point, you were sure that you were dreaming, but you nodded your head nonetheless. “Great, come one.” With that he softly grabbed your wrist and dragged you into his room. 

Once the door closed behind the two of you, you were immediately painfully aware of your situation - you were alone with Seungmin. Who you had the biggest crush on. In his room. Alone in his room. With him. Your heart hammered against your chest, your whole body tingled, you felt downright dizzy. Seungmin was not blind to your condition, rather enjoying the view, but he couldn’t just let you stand there like a lost puppy. “Come, sit”, he said as he flopped down on his bed, tapping the free spot beside him. Your mind short-circuited as you stared at him, sitting on his bed waiting for you to join.

Timidly, you made your way over to him. You were nervous to say the least. Nervous to be so close to him, nervous to be alone with him, nervous to join him on his fucking bed. But Seungmin did not hesitate. As soon as you were on the bed, he pulled you close, one arm snaking around your back, the other cupping your face. “You think I didn’t notice, pup?”, he said, voice low and smooth, “You think I could resist those pretty eyes?” You gasped, hands grabbing the front of his shirt and holding on for dear life. What was happening? What was he doing?

But then, just when you felt the world starting to spin around you, his features softened. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”, he asked, gently pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. Your breath hitched, cheeks burning, heart racing. “Can I kiss you?” Your heart stopped. Full on stopped. You were melting right then and there in his arms, hearing yourself whisper “yes” just before his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and sweet at first, careful, testing. But you were basically clawing at him, your leg shifting in-between his on its own accord, and he all but moaned into your mouth. It didn’t take long for both of you to be fully gone, laboured breath, wandering hands, the presence of the others in the living room fully forgotten. 

When Seungmin pried himself away from you eventually, panting and breathless, yet still holding you close, you were sure this was a dream. “Damn, pup”, he breathed, “you doing okay?” You nodded, eyes locked with his, hands still clinging to his shirt. “Mhm”, you answered, voice trembling, “just dizzy.” 

Fenya’s Masterlist

[mehwmidklpe]

Ermermermerm

Clingy Leo PRETTY PLEASE

Thank yeww!!

clingly Leo my loveeee

"Leo, let go." You wishpered in his ear as his hand rested on the small of your back as you talked to your friends.

Instead of letting go, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist

And yes, that got you some looks from your friends. "Well.. you two look.. incredibly close." Chris Rodriguez pointed out.

You gave him a fake giggle. "Yeah, some might say too close." You then elbowed your boyfriend in the ribs.

He winced but didn't give up. "But we can never be 'too close', can we mami?" Leo grinned, pressing multiple kisses on your cheek.

"Okay. That's digusting. I expected better from you Y/n." Clarisse said in disgust before dragging her boyfriend away from you and your own boyfriend, leaving you two.

You turned around. "Leo!" You scold at him. He only smiled. "Good, now we're alone."

"Not yet, Mr. Valdez."

Leo grinned. "Oh what's up, Chiron?" "Lord Zeus' domain, the sky." The centaur answers as if it wasn't obvious enough.

The son of Hepheaustus blinked. "No that's not with it mea–anyways, is there something you wanted to tell us?"

He wonders, nuzzling his face into your neck, earning a pointed look from Chiron and a death glare from you.

"Uhm.. I just wanted to tell Mrs. Y/l/n that she's paired with Mr. Nakamura for sparring training tomorrow." Chiron frowned at Leo's affection.

You just nodded. "That's.. great. Thank you Chiron.. I'll just, go to my cabin to prepare my weapons. Without Leo, of course."

"What?!?" Leo exclaimed.

"You're not coming with me." You state.

"Yes I am." Leo decided.

"I'm sorry Leonidas, but Y/n is right, it's against the rules." Chrion stepped in.

"Well make some new ones before I burn the Big House down due losing self-control without my girlfriend."

And somehow, with a lot of pushing an whining Leo actually convinced Chiron to let him stay with you.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, storming into your cabin, walking towards your shelves where you collected your weapons.

Yes. You have shelves for them.

"Do what? Be affectionate with my girlfriend? Because I love youuu." He said, following after you, bringing you back into his arms.

"Leo, I need to–" "Prepare? For a fight that's not today? Ethan is good, really good, maybe Percy-Jackson-styx-dippinglevel-good, but he's nothing against you. Now can you please come lay with me I wanna cuddle you."

You scanned his face, his pout, his doe eyes that begged you, and he looked so adorable. Like his baby wanting his mommy.

Well this was Leo wanting his mami.

And that's how you fond yourself in bed with Leo clinging to you ad if you might dissapear if he let's go.

"I love you mami." He mumbled, kissing your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, trying ot fight a smile. "I love you too, Leo."

Your boyfriend smiled. "Does that mean you'll skip practice and stay in bed with me all day?"

"Never."

sorry this was kinda rushed

also I think I needed to tag @asimpforlife134 in my Leo fics??

[gothamite-rambler]

Stephanie: Hey Cass, I heard a story about how you became the leader of the League of Assassins and killed a lot of people.

Cass (eyes downcast, slowly putting her phone down): You cut right to the chase with that.

Stephanie: Yeah, but don’t worry I’m not judging. We all have dark pasts. I just want to hear about it cause I'm curious. What started it? How did you get your wake-up call? What happened in between or afterwards.

Cass: You’ve heard of Slade Wilson, right?

Stephanie: That goof? Yeah. Did he attack you during all of this?

Cass (starting the story): I wanted a father figure, and Bruce was missing…

One depressing and sad story of brainwashing her best friend and (maybe) future girlfriend later Stephanie stormed down the halls, searching for some special people, knowing immediately where they’d be: the Batcave.

Cass chased after her, pleading for her to calm down.

Cass: Just take a second to breathe! Please—

But Stephanie had already tuned her out, stomping down the stairs to the Batcave, striding past Jason, Tim, Damian, Kate, and Bruce until she found Dick.

Stephanie: HEY, NIGHTWING!

At first, Dick turned around, a smile brightening his face at the sight of her, but that smile vanished in an instant when she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek.

Dick (eyes wide, shocked): OW!

Stephanie: You… You! Penis! You absolute penis! How dare you mistreat Cass while she was going through all that? I knew you were too nice; something had to be buried, and YOU… penis!

Dick (cupping his sore cheek): Stop calling me a penis!

Jason (doubled over laughing): I feel bad for laughing, but this is priceless.

Bruce: I shouldn’t be laughing either, but at least it wasn’t me. What’s happening here?

Cass (hurriedly explaining as she fidgeted her hands): Steph wanted to know about the time I went insane like Jason and became the leader of the assassins. I mentioned my issues with Dick, but that was forgivable. She—

Stephanie: Is pissed at this eejit!

Damian (surprised): Did you just call him an idiot with an Irish inflection? You are mad.

Dick (taking accountability): I… she… this is so old! I admitted I was a jerk back then, but I'm not anymore.

Huffing angrily, Stephanie lowered her hand as Dick instinctively took a step back.

Stephanie: You know what? Dick, I get that you didn’t want her to kill her deadbeat dad or Slade. We don’t kill, well, except Jason, but I’m starting to understand him more!

Jason nodded, continuing to read.

Stephanie: But how you treated Cass during most of her redemption journey... such a penis move!

Dick: I wasn’t… she killed… And Barbara snapped at her sometimes! Why the hell won’t you slap her?

Barbara (having silently watched the spectacle): I apologized and she likes me more. And I taught her how to read and write more so there.

Dick: I apologized too!

Stephanie: After Alfred stepped in! You—

Dick: Don’t call me a penis. Alfred helped out and is usually the voice of reason, I'm obviously going to agree with him.

Cass walked over, stepping between them and lightly pushing Stephanie away with a warm smile.

Cass: I admire you defending me, but Dick and I have made amends — mostly. We replaced it with sibling bickering, and I’m not completely innocent. I did throw him out a window, which was wrong… even if I still think he deserved it a tiny bit.

Dick (dryly): That’s the closest you’re going to admit it was wrong?

Cass: Yep.

Dick: I’ll take it.

Stephanie sighed, stepping away from Dick and thinking silently.

Stephanie: Jason, can Rose stab her father for Cass?

Bruce: Excuse me for interjecting, but do you mean to kill or just maim?

Kate (chuckling): That’s legitimately a good question.

Stephanie: I want so badly for her to kill him or for you to kill him. But respecting my code and Cass’s wishes, can she just stab him to hurt him?

Jason pulled out his phone and texted Rose.

Jason: She might actually have a better method. I’ll get back to you on that.

Stephanie: It’s a start… right?

Cass: He won’t die? It’s not me plunging the knife, but I’d rather not have phantom blood on my hands.

Stephanie (placing a hand on Cass’s shoulder): I can make sure he lives afterward. Bruce, if you try to stop this, I'm sending my ma after you with a heel in her hand.

Bruce: Just make sure he lives. That’s all I ask.

Stephanie: Got you, B-Man. You can fire me again if I go against my future girlfriend’s rule.

Kate laughed more and walked upstairs to excuse herself, with Bruce following her for a drink after that show.

Dick: Right, cool. Not sure how I feel about this—

Stephanie (pointing at the man): Dick, I’m not too happy with you, so your opinion means diddly squat!

Barbara (laughing, but also reasoning with Stephanie): Steph, you have to understand that we were all going through hell back then. You were there, and Dick could be a bit of a… penis.

Stephanie: I get that, and now that I’ve delivered the righteous slap to him, I’m cool with him. Unless he angers her again, then I’m kicking him in the penis while wearing a pointed heel.

Dick groaned as he rummaged for ice in the fridge underneath Bruce’s fridge. Jason could be heard laughing at the insult, joined by Damian's snickers.

Tim mostly remained silent, deciding it was wiser to stay neutral and embrace his role as Switzerland rather than take a side.

Tim: Oh wow. Um, I'm going to step in front of him.

Tim walked up in front of Dick, positioning himself as a buffer. Dick appreciated the gesture, grateful for the support in the heat of the moment.

Damian: That’s very funny to think about.

Stephanie (to Tim and Damian): As for you two… Tim, Cass actually had a lot of nice things and wild adventures to say about you. You’re cool. Damian… eh, not anything scandalous.

Damian (satisfied): Alright, that’s great to hear.

Tim: Cass, thank you.

Cass: It was just me being honest and venting. I tried to make it unbiased.

Dick: Didn’t work! She slapped me! Ow, by the way!

Stephanie (indifferent): Sorry or whatever.

Cass: I’m sorry as well. When I spoke of our feuding, it wasn’t to paint you as a villain. I got my payback when I replaced your human shampoo with dog flea and tick shampoo.

Stephanie (surprised): You what?

Barbara (chuckling): That’s why your hair smelled like oatmeal for a month.

Dick: Jokes on her... that was great for my hair! And yes, that is a flex for me! Cass, I forgive you. Stephanie, I choose to forgive you for now. To make it up to you both, I’ll take us all out for dinner.

Stephanie: You should probably have that wallet with you, then, cause we’re going to Chills, and I’m bringing my ma.

Dick: Of course you are; I’m going to rest for the next hour. Barbara…

Dick lightly slapped Barbara on the back of the head and then ran off. Barbara laughed, relieving any tension.

[thirteenheavens]

hi! congrats on 900 ❤️ can i request something with dino and ‘moving in together'? maybe christening the apartment and doing it on every surface possible? 😳

Christening the place|| Lee Chan

Notes: going to start to update my masterlists now as I realise its well over due

As you and Chan start unpacking boxes in your new apartment, the excitement of living together finally sets in. But amidst the chaos of moving, there's an underlying tension between you two. You steal glances at Chan as he carries heavy boxes up the stairs, his muscles flexing with each movement. He catches you looking and smirks, knowing exactly what's on your mind.

"Like what you see?" he teases, setting down the box and walking over to you. You bite your lip and nod, unable to deny it. "Very much," you say, stepping closer to him. "You're making it hard to focus on unpacking."

Chan chuckles and pulls you into his arms, his hands roaming over your body. "Who says we have to unpack right now?" he murmurs, nuzzling your neck. You giggle and playfully push him away. "We have a lot of work to do," you say, trying to be responsible. But Chan has other ideas.

He backs you up against the wall and pins your wrists above your head, his eyes dark with desire. "The bedroom can wait," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I need you now." You surrender to his touch, letting him take control as he kisses you passionately. His hands wander down to your waist, then lower to squeeze your ass as he grinds against you.

You moan into the kiss, your mind fogging with lust as you think about all the surfaces in your new apartment that could be used for more... intimate activities. Chan lifts you up and carries you to the nearest surface - the kitchen counter. He sets you down and spreads your legs apart, kneeling between them.

"Let me taste you," he says, pulling your pants down just enough to expose your core. He buries his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your folds hungrily. You gasp and arch your back, gripping the edge of the counter as pleasure courses through you. Chan eats you out with skillful precision, knowing exactly how to make you moan and writhe beneath him. He adds two fingers to the mix, pumping them in and out of you as he sucks on your clit.

You can feel your orgasm building, the heat in your core spreading throughout your body. "Chan, I'm gonna cum," you warn, your legs trembling. He looks up at you with a smirk. "Then cum for me," he says, his voice muffled against your skin. "Cum on my face."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you let go, your orgasm washing over you in waves. You cry out his name and grip his hair, your body shaking as you ride out the intense pleasure. Chan laps up every drop of your release, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. He stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked on yours.

"You're so beautiful when you cum," he says, pulling you into a deep kiss so you can taste yourself on his lips. You moan into the kiss, still feeling sensitive from your orgasm. "That was amazing," you whisper against his lips. "But now I want more." Chan grins and picks you up again, carrying you to the nearest bedroom - your shared bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you, his body covering yours completely.

As the days go by, you and Chan settle into a comfortable routine of living together. But that routine is constantly disrupted by your insatiable desire for each other. Whether it's in the morning before work, during lunch breaks, or late at night when you're supposed to be sleeping, you can't seem to keep your hands off each other.

You'll be doing something as simple as making dinner together and suddenly find yourself pressed up against the counter, with Chan's hands roaming all over your body. Or you'll be watching TV and he'll start giving you a massage that quickly turns into something more. The bedroom isn't the only place you explore each other - the couch, the shower, the kitchen table... anywhere becomes a potential playground.

In the shower, Chan pins you against the cold tile wall and lifts you up. The hot water cascades down your bodies as he enters you from behind, the sensation making you gasp. He holds you up with one arm and uses the other to play with your clit, his thrusts slow and deliberate. "You're so tight like this," he groans in your ear.

Against the kitchen counter, Chan lifts you onto it and spreads your legs wide. He watches intently as he slides into you, his eyes dark with desire. He fucks you hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, knowing that the neighbors could hear you.

On the couch, Chan has you ride him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he helps you bounce up and down on his cock. "That's it, baby," he encourages. "Ride me just like that." He sucks on your neck and nibbles on your earlobe, driving you wild with pleasure. And when he finally cums inside you, he pulls you close and whispers how much he loves you.

Despite the constant interruptions, you're happier than ever. You love waking up next to Chan every morning and falling asleep in his arms every night. And the way he looks at you, like you're the only person in the world who matters... it makes everything else fade away.