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#'oh no! did that hit crazy stairs?'
jibunwo · 9 months
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MADE FUN OF MY SIBLING AND THEY MADE A FACE AND I COULD TELL FROM THEIR FACE THAT THEY WANTED TO PUSH ME DOWN THE STAIRS AND AS I WAS OPENING MOUTH TO TELL THEM I LIKED THEIR IM GONNA PUSH YOU THE STAIRS FACE THEY SAID SHUT UP ILL PUSH THE STAIRS
#this was near the stairs but not so near that they couldve just done it. like they could see the stairs but i was not quite ripe for the#pushing so it was extra funny that i could divine their intentions from just their face#im good at that though. i have an intuition for what sorts of silly violence people are planning to enact unto me#once my friend offered me a warhead. like the candy. and i was like oh no thanks :) and he was like are you sure? and i looked at him and#immediately covered my water cup. he was like HOW THE HELL DID YOU KNOW WHAT I WAS GONNA DO WHAT THE FUCK#and i was like HOLY SHIT YOU WERE ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT I THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY#and that started a longstanding tradition of putting shit in each others waters. he liked to sneak up on me and get me with a nerf dart bc#he knew hed never manage it if i could see his face. asshole got a napkin in my milkshake in low lighting once though. i could always read#him really well with that kinda thing though like he wasnt that surprised when i stopped on the sidewalk and walked to his other side so he#couldnt shove me into the street bc wed known each other for ages at that point but they warhead thing was like. a couple weeks after we met#ALSO SHOVING ME INTO THE STREET WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN DANGEROUS WE WERE IN BUTTFUCK NOWHERE THERE WERE NOT CARS. HE WOULD NOT SHOVE ME INTO#THE STREET TO GET HIT BY CARS. WORST INJURIES I WOULDVE GOTTEN WERE SKINNED KNEES AND THAT WOULDVE BEEN HILARIOUS AND HED NEVER HAVE LIVED#IT DOWN. BUT NO CARS. NO GETTING HIT BY CARS. ALWAYS HAVE TO REMEMBER SHOVING PEOPLE INTO THE STREET GETS THEM HIT BY CARS WHEN I TELL THAT#STORY BC ITS GETS ME INTO THE BUTTFUCK NOWHERE MINDSET WHERE CARS DONT HIT PEOPLE THEY ONLY HIT DEER#what was my point. dont remember. oh well send tweet or whatever#mine
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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months
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I worry about you (Clingy!Yandere x Delinquent!Reader)
CW: body trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior
"I don't understand, why are you saying these things?!" Everett shouted, tugging on (Reader's) jacket like a man fearful of drowning. The two stood at the top of a set of wooden outdoor stairs built into a steep hill in the city's little hiking trail/park, a meeting spot where they often hung out after school.
His brown eyes glowed under the sun like molten gold, churning with heartache as he held onto his only friend.
(Reader) kept their face rigid like stone, fighting the desire to retract what they had said, their decision was final. It was for Everett's own good. "Dude, stop acting crazy. You're acting like we were dating. I'm just saying that I need space. Go make other friends, go on dates, I don't care. Jesus, just stop hanging onto me all the time."
Lies, all lies. I don't mind how clingy you are. I love that you stay by my side. I know I have a shit personality, I know I'm trash, so I really appreciate that you're the only one to stay my friend. You've been my friend since we were ten years old, so please, PLEASE, fucking take the hint. I've seen that the teachers have started to treat you differently just because you're my friend. And how many times do I have to rescue you from wannabe thugs who only fuck with you because they hate me? You deserve better than that.
You deserve better than me.
(Reader) roughly shook their only friend off their arm. It was painful now, for both of them, but (Reader) knew it was for the best.
"But why? What did I do wrong?" Everett sniffled, rubbing his eyes as the waterworks persisted. (Reader) turned to leave, unable to watch Everett any longer without their resolve crumbling. "WAIT!" Everett panicked, reaching out to latch onto (Reader's) arm again. (Reader) felt his fingers brush against their arm, and threw back their elbow to push Everett away.
They didn't know, however, that Everett had stepped forward. (Reader) misjudged how hard to push, not knowing that Everett was closer than he was just a second ago. Their wrist smashed into Everett's chest, causing him to stumble backwards, and tumble down the stairs.
Eyes widening in fear, (Reader) immediately began sprinting down the steps, skipping two at a time on the way down as their friend bounced against the weathered wood, hitting the dirt at the bottom hard. Their heart was beating so fast it felt like they would have a heart attack as they jumped the last couple stairs, crouching over their best friend crying in the fetal position.
"Everett, oh my God, are you okay?!" They gingerly scooped his upper half into their lap, examining his head for injuries.
"My- my arm..." Everett cradled his arm, crushing (Reader) further with guilt.
Placing his head down carefully, (Reader) took off running, calling out for help in hopes that someone nearby had a phone to call an ambulance. They disappeared out of Everett's sight, hearing them hollering as they ran away.
As soon as (Reader) vanished from view, Everett stopped crying, sitting up miserably. How did this happen?
Everything had been going so perfectly. Everett had set himself up as a weak, innocent best friend for (Reader), tailoring his personality for the past eight years to ensure that (Reader) would never leave him. When his family uprooted his life at the age of ten, he already knew there was no chance of happiness in his future. It was hard enough convincing anyone at his old school to like a freak like him, but being a new kid on top of having a personality that for some reason pushed everyone away? Everett knew it was hopeless.
But it seemed fate had other plans for him. The very first day in the new home Everett attempted to climb the large tree in his fenceless backyard and slipped, falling out of one of the lower branches. It hadn't hurt all that much, really just stinging a bit, but he didn't have time to even sit up before his new neighbor was rushing over to help him, having witnessed the fall from their back window. (Reader) was an angel, the summer sunlight illuminating their form like a halo. They didn't waste a second, pulling Everett's body onto their back, struggling under his weight but forcing their tiny muscles to carry Everett to his parents. It didn't even hurt, and Everett was more than capable of walking on his own, but having someone his own age care about him for the first time in his entire ten years of life.. he played into it, relishing in the attention he was receiving, forcing large crocodile tears out in hopes (Reader) would stay by his side longer. And it worked.
It worked for eight years, so why were they pushing him away now?
He constantly allowed himself to trip in front of (Reader), embarrassing himself over and over to keep them paying attention to him. Even now, throwing himself backwards down a flight of stairs while making it look like an accident, just to prevent (Reader) from leaving him.
Unfortunately, nothing was actually broken on him. He glanced around, finding a rock almost too large to grasp in one hand. Unlike when they were children, Everett didn't believe crying would be enough to keep (Reader) by his side. He rolled up the sleeve on the arm he pretended was broken, biting down onto the front of his hoodie. It didn't matter if (Reader) was only with him out of guilt, it only mattered that they were with him.
Everett smiled through gritted teeth, thinking about (Reader) sitting next to him in the hospital, refusing to leave his side for even a second, then brought the heavy rock down onto his arm with an audible crack.
Please continue worrying about me.
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totaly-obsessed · 19 days
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The Weight of Expectations
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Alexia Putellas x reader
-> Happy Birthday to my darling @greynatomy, love ya!
-> Alexia struggles through the IVF journey and turns mean
-> Talk of pregnancy, alcohol and abuse
➳ Masterlist
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”
Oh. Alexia was home, something new. You were currently in the bathroom closest to the bedroom, heaving up anything that you had eaten, even the light soup. 
For a couple of days, you had been like this, and two days ago you had finally done a test. A pregnancy test. This was the last IVF round before Ale and you had to start considering other options like adoption. The first 2 rounds had failed.
Positive. The goddamn test was finally positive.
Immediately you had made an appointment for a blood test to get done. You just had to be sure before telling Alexia. The blonde already blamed herself, thinking she had waited for too long, hesitant to have a child while in the midst of her career before she finally committed to it.
You had been so incredibly happy when she came to you after a game. Tears streamed down your face when she told you that she was ready to have a child. With you.
The disappointment of two failed attempts weighed heavily on Alexia. She desperately tried to console you as you cried, hiding her own tears in her pillow when you finally passed out. How could she be sad when you had to go through the physical aspect as well?
She shouldn't have waited that long, maybe 29 was too old.
After that things changed. She had left for Spain camp, and after that, she threw herself back into work in Barcelona. Her surgery was healing well and she was getting better and better by the day.
Meanwhile, you were sat at home, trying to understand the change in your wife. Did you do something wrong? With the previous tries the footballer had been so involved, checking in on you multiple times a day when she was at training. 
And now? Nothing.
Alone you had gone to the blood test yesterday, not even needing an explanation for your wife, who came home after you had gone to bed and left before you woke up.
Eight Weeks. You were already two months along. In Alexia's absence, you had completely forgotten to test, wanting to do it with her.
As soon as you had gotten the confirmation, the morning sickness hit ten times harder. Who even decided to call it that? Morning sickness… What a stupid fucking name. The whole day was filled with sudden cramps and vomiting.
And you had done it all alone until now. 
But Alexia was here now, yelling in the kitchen, before she stomped up the stairs to the bathroom, looking into every door available on her way. She was looking for you.
She hesitated for a second, seeing you crouched on the floor, head over the toilet, and pale as the white wall behind you.
“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”, she yelled again, now in your face.
“I am serious Ale, what's up?”
This was the first time you had seen her in a couple of days, her roots were starting to show, as did the bags under her eyes. But the rest of her body looked stronger than ever, the countless hours in the gym paying off.
“The kitchen is a mess, you didn’t do the laundry and you didn't mop the floors either. Look how filthy it is in this house!”
Wow.
You didn't know what you had been expecting. But definitely not this.
With slow movements you pushed yourself up, using the sink to help balance yourself. Fuck were you dizzy.
“W- What did you mean?” You hated how meek your voice sounded after your wife practically yelled at you.
Her face was red, and her eyes looked like she had been bitten by the devil, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth.
Crazy. She looked really fucking crazy, and it was terrifying.
“¿En serio?”
“Let’s just go downstairs, I made dinner and we can talk about it.” 
With a scoff the blonde turned on the spot, stomping down the stairs, leaving you in the bathroom. Tears threatened to fall. What has happened?
With your nausea, it took you a bit longer to navigate the stairs. Every step hurt, but Alexia couldn’t care less about your pain-filled noises. She was busy stabbing a fork into her dinner, already scarfing a plate of your favorite pasta dish down.
“Finally. God, you always take so long.”
The words were filled with hate as she spat them at you, not even noticing that a bit of the sauce was flung onto her cheeks. 
You couldn’t help but smile a bit, she had never managed to eat without making a mess of herself and the table. With a damp cloth, you tried to wipe the spot away, but when she hit your hand away from her, the cloth sailed to the floor as you looked at her. Eyes wide in panic.
“I am not your goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”
Your wives' usually warm eyes pierced your heart even more. Was this really the same woman who would carry you to bed every night, even after grueling training and rehab sessions?
The tears you had breathed away were back, a painful sensation in your eyes as Alexia continued to devour the meal you had prepared with so much excitement to tell her as if it didn't mean anything.
“This tastes like shit. Not even good for cooking.” She threw the fork on the plate, the clattering sound ripping you out of your shock-induced trance. “Do you want me to make you something different?
Your wife looked terrifying. Her eyes were wide open with small pupils that moved around quickly, looking you up and down before making their way through the house. The rest of her face was stoic, a facade she had perfected over the years. One that she didn’t usually use with you.
“No. I don’t want new food. I want you to get yourself together.”
The room filled with a heavy silence that nearly made you gasp for air. What did she mean?
“Amore I don’t know what has gotten into you, but maybe we should just go for a quick walk? Get some fresh air?”
That was the final nail in the coffin for the footballer, who stood up with such force, that the chair slid back and toppled over with a startling noise.
“Fresh air? You want fresh air?” She was getting in your face now, hunching a little to really get close. “Do you know what I want?”
Her breath was warm as it hit your nose.
Alcohol. You could smell alcohol.
She was a mean drunk, snapping at anyone who dared to get too close to her, her dog, or you. But just like her stern face, you were usually safe from her drunken attitude. Your wife always pushed you behind her as soon as anything looked like trouble.
This was new and you hated it.
“What do you want Ale?”
the defender had emptied your cup of coffee in one go, slamming the mug down on the counter.
“What do I want? I a housewife that can actually do her fucking job!” She was yelling now, some of the words accentuated with harsh hand movements and slight pushes to your shoulders.
“And look at how you let yourself go. Fucking pathetic! How can I even show myself in public with you?”
Shit that hurt.
You were finally pregnant with a very much wanted child, and she acted like this after leaving you alone for such a long time.
“Gained so much weight it’s-”
“I’m pregnant.”
You didn't yell. You didn’t shout. You said it with a normal voice. Well as normal as you could with tears threatening to spill.
But it was enough to quiet the drunk blonde. 
“Pregnant? You’re pregnant?”
It felt as if she was looking at you for the first time when her eyes softened and her whole body slumped. She fucked up. And she knew it.
In a frenzy you started packing things, throwing stuff into a suitcase while your wife tried to stop you. “Where are you going? Amore, please! I am so sorry!”
But it was too late.
With a suitcase and Alexia’s car, you made your way to Eli’s house, you had no one in Spain, all your family back home, so you decided to turn to your wife's mother who loved you to no end and had spent a lot of time at your house while Alexias had been ‘busy’ the last few weeks.
Alexia watched as you left. You were pregnant with a child that she wanted so badly, and she fucked it up.
Tomorrow she will make up for it. She really will.
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norrisleclercf1 · 8 months
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Forever Mine
Pairing: Mafia!Charles x Reader
Rating: R
Words: 2.6K
Warnings: Charles gives us whiplash with his emotions, hinted of kidnapping, smut, nothing crazy descriptive, p in v, drugging, Charles thinks about killing so no one else can have you
Requested: Yes/No
Request: Could you do mafia Charles but he’s like obsessed with reader and maybe kidnaps her or mafia dark obsessed ex Charles who finally found her after reader ran from him?
Synopsis: You had no idea who your boyfriend is
A/N: I did not edit this because I’m exhausted and just didn’t feel like doing it
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The buzzing on the nightstand has Charles smacking his phone. Grumbling in annoyance, he pats around for his phone; grabbing it, he squints at it.
3:12 am
"Qui que ce soit, il a intérêt à mourir." Charles snarls, hitting the green button, pressing the phone to his ear. (Whoever this is, better be dying)
Charles fully expects it to be one of his men, instead a sob rattles his chest as your voice fills the other end. "Can you please come and get me?" Words catching as you hiccup on a sob.
He doesn't think twice as he jumps out of bed, hissing as the stitches on his wound stretch and burn. Ripping up his pants he keeps his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder.
"Que s'est-il passé ? Quelqu'un vous a-t-il touché ? Je vais les jeter à la mer avec les autres." Charles hears sniffles, booming music, and people probably drunk laugh around you. (What happened? Did someone touch you? I'm going to throw them in the sea with the others)
"English, Charles." You whimper, yelping when a body crashes into you. He swears red filled his eyesight when he hears you whimper, rushing down the stairs. Ignoring the private doctor that just finished stitching him up. "I'm sorry Mon monde. Where are you?" Heading straight for his signature Ferrari.
"I don't know, some club." He tries very hard not to snap at you. How could you go out? Without telling him? You're crying, clearly terrified in his own fucking city. "Y/n, listen to me. What do you see, anything familiar?" Voice calm, but that deadly calm that'd seen grown men cry.
"Um, oh I see the port. Your yacht I can see it." Calming slightly as you move away from the club towards the comfort of something familiar. "Go there, some of my me-" He stops knowing that you know nothing about his life. "Some people I know and trust are there. I'll be there in 5 minutes." He hangs up.
"You're 20 minutes away." You whisper, staring at your phone confused. Now that you knew where you were, you stumble your way to the gorgeous yacht owned by your boyfriend. "Who are you?" A deep pissed off voice has you jumping, looking up at a giant man tattooed and buff.
"Charles, he said to come here and wait for him." You whisper, clutching your phone to your chest. "Listen, if you're one of his who-" He stops talking when a shrill ringing sounds. Grabbing his phone he answers it.
You watch as color drains from his face, eyes wide as he stares at you. "Yes sir, she's here. Yes, sir. I apologize sir." Hanging the phone up the guy clears his throat, sliding sideways. "Come in." Voice softer as he helps you step onto the deck.
No one talks to you, the sound of a roaring engine has the 3 men around your straighten up. "Where is she?" The accent is like ice filling your veins. He's furious. "She's on the deck with the others." The scary guy from earlier answers.
Thundering feet has you lifting your head, looking right at Charles. "What the fuck were you think?" Mouth open, Charles stops you. "No, you know what? You weren't fucking thinking! Do you have any idea the type of men or women that live here? What'd they do to you? DO YOU?" Curling in on yourself, vision blurs from the tears pooling.
He's never yelled at you like this. A harsh tone, a look, he refuses to even touch you without your permission. So, to have him snap like this has you....scared.
"You're scaring me." Hoarse, that's what your throat is after all the crying you've done. Something in Charles, breaks. You're the one person he's never wanted to scare you. And here he was, showing that one side he's never wanted to show.
Dropping to his knees, he gathers you in his arms. Body shaking, Charles whispers secret apologies, hands running all over your body. "I'm sorry, fuck. I'm so sorry." Nose burying in your neck, smelling the slight hints of sweat, his body wash, and alcohol.
"I didn't do anything wrong, why are you yelling at me." If that didn't sound like such a childish excuse, nothing will. To him you did something wrong, went into his city without telling him. "You scared me, do you know what type of people live here? They're not good people." He whispers, leaving the words I'm not good on his tongue.
Charles chose to leave you in the dark about his secret life. All you knew is that, he has money, people respect him, his name carries some type of power. You've questioned it once, Charles snapped and said for you to never ask him again.
It's a constant tension between you two.
"Come on, we're going home." An edge to his tone, trying to keep that shadow in him tied down. "Just take me to my place." Charles was scaring you more and more by the minute. This was not the man you love.
The sweet giggles, soft touches. How his voice warms you, treats you like his queen. This wasn't the man before, it's a shell of him.
"No, we're going to my place. End of discussion." He gathers you up, standing as he carries you off the boat. Face hidden in his chest, your heart thunders in your throat. You want to argue more, but your scared that it might set him off. "Okay."
Bright lights flash, a beep and you're placed in the black leather interior of his Ferrari. Clicking the door closed, he might as well slammed it with the echoing silence of the car. Even with how scared you are, you can't help but admire his beauty.
The way he slides into the car, his hair pushed in different directions. So enraptured with him, you miss the wincing he does as he sits in the car. Purring of the engine is the only sound between the two of you. It's like he's daring you to say the first words, to submit and explain what you were doing.
He wins.
"It was a friends party." White knuckling the steering wheel he remains quiet, leaving you to further explain. "It got out of hand, got scared. I called you. Should've called Pierre instead." The last end of the sentence a whisper.
Smoke and tires screech, flinging you forward a scream is ripped from your mouth. "What the fuck!" You gasp, chest hurting from the seatbelt that dug into your chest . "Call him." Whipping your head to the side, mouth open in shock.
"What?" Confused by his action. "Call him. You wanted Pierre more than your boyfriend. Call him, see if he's willing to come here and pick your ass up on the side of the road." His voice held no anger, nothing. Utterly emotionless.
"Charles, are you seriously kicking me out of your car?" This sobered you up quickly, the words sucking it right out of you. "I don't know, am I?" The fucker was challenging you, testing you almost.
"I'm drunk and tired, are you really going to holds my words against me?" Forcing yourself to look small. It's a reflex now. Whenever Charles got mad, your body reacted and would submit while your mouth raged to fight back.
His whole demeanor overpowered yours. A tiger and it's prey, the way his eyes bored into you. Waiting to pounce or see if you run.
"Yes, I will. Especially when the woman I fucking love, wishes she called my best friend than me." If you could, you'd slap the shit out of him. Charles is an enigma if you knew how he'd react you'd do it. He was constantly changing, new sides and reactions each time you did something. One thing never changed though.
His jealously.
It's a raging storm, once caught your never free. "Charles, take me home. Please." A soft beg, you just wanted to go home, didn't matter if it was his or yours. The engine purrs back to life, seats shaking softly as he pulls back into the road.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We're here." He startles you, it's the first thing he says to you after his little stunt on the road. You don't answer him, flinging the door open. Heels click on the pebbled pavement that leads to the front door.
How he owns a mansion in Monaco is beyond you, living in the outskirts of the city.
The door slams, rattling the car an Charles with it. "Putain de salope, tu devrais t'enchaîner dans la cave." The hiss of French makes your ears burn. He knew you didn't speak it, and here he was speaking it. "Fucking English, Charles! You know I don't understand!" You hollar slamming the front door open. (Fucking bitch, should chain you up in the basement.)
Unlocked. Why the hell is such a fancy house left unlocked without a care in the world. As quickly the thought comes it leaves, hands wrapping in your hair yanking you into a chest.
"Listen here," Charles voice deep, like thunder whispers in your ear. "I will speak the language I want. Now, stop being a fucking brat and go take a shower." His hand slips out, leaving a sting in your scalp that has you seething.
Stomping up the stairs, Charles storms to his office slamming the door. Heavy breaths pass his lips, trying to calm himself down not wanting to do something drastic.
"Sir?" 3 taps on the door has Charles gruffing out a 'come in'. The doctor from earlier steps in, asking how his wound is. Charles furious with you, forgot about opening his wound slightly opening when he rushed to your side.
"It's fine, get everyone out of the house. Now. I need to do something what I've been putting off." Nodding, the doctor slips out of the door. The soft taps of feet against the marble floor and echoing click of the door lets Charles know, everyone has left.
He makes his way through the empty, cold house following the sound of running water. He doesn't head straight to the bathroom, going to his liquor cabinet. Pouring himself some whiskey he sips on it, watching the outline of your body in the foggy mirror.
"Tu aimes faire croire que tu as le contrôle, je vais te prouver que tu as tort." Charles sighs moving to the bathroom, you knew he was here. The air growing stiff the feeling of eyes on your body let you know that Charles was the one watching you. (You like to act you're in control, how wrong I will be proving you)
"Can I join." It was meant to be a question, with him though he was going to join you wither you wanted him to or not. Sitting his glass down, he undresses not caring if you see his wound or not. A gush of cold air hits your back, pushing you further into the hot water.
Jumping when icy fingers touch you, they quickly remove themselves from your hip. "Fuck.....I've fucked up haven't I?" You hate the way his voice sounds so broken, even worse the way your heart aches hearing it. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? What it's like getting that call in the middle of the night? It terrified me." He whispers.
You hate yourself for turning around, for seeing the way his head is down. The utter disgust deep inside you for wrapping your arms around his neck pulling both your naked bodies close.
"Just kiss me." He wastes no time granting your wish, lips soft press against yours. Hands trailing over your back, fingers moving around your curves. His tongue gently prying your lips open, slipping past he doesn't speed anything up.
He takes his time, remembering every inch of your body. He knew after tonight you'd never remember him the same nor let him touch you. Tonight he was going to relish in this.
"Je t'aime." Air catches in his throat, hearing those soft french words pass your lips. Looking in your eyes, it's like your soul is ripped open showing him the love, trust, hopefulness. "Je t'aime." He repeats, nudging your legs open, stepping between them.
He takes your air, sinking into him your lips move across one another. This time it's not so soft, he's kissing you like it's the last time. Like he's a dying man gasping for air.
"Charles." You whimper feeling him rub against you, he can't help the smirk that grows against your lips. "What is it love?" Voice teasing as he thrusts his hips up forward again you drop your mouth open.
"Take me to bed." Hands move to your ass, lifting you up legs wrap around his waist as he lays kisses over your chest. "Always." Stepping out of the shower the two leaving a trail from the shower to the bed.
Giggling as Charles drops you on the bed, you finally take notice of the fresh wound. "What happened?" Body shrinking in on itself when your fingers ghost over the stitches. "Work injury, no need to worry. It'll heal." Covering your naked body with his, he nips at your breast.
"Mhgm." Unable to help the sound that passes your lips, as his lips warp around your tit the other being twisting and pulled between his pointer and forefinger. "I love you, you know that right?" A lick to your nipple as his eyes bore into yours.
"I know that." His fingers move under your knees lifting them up as he spreads them, making sure he doesn't hurt you. "Ready?" He asks, lining himself up, you nod. "Always." You repeat pulling a smile out of him.
Slowly he slides in, watching the way you swallow him. "Shit." You gasp, the way he stretches you always feel so damn good. Charles says nothing as he takes deep breaths through his nose you wrap your legs around his waist.
Moving his hips back and forth, he can't help but watch the way your face contorts with pleasure letting yourself go completely. How easy it'd be to just take the life out of you right here and now.
End his suffering, the end the constant terror gripping him that someone will take you from him. He refuses to let anyone else own you, to make you moan, see your body like this, anything. He'd kill you before anyone could have you.
"Charles, fuck right there." Biting your lip, Charles moves deeper keeping the same slow torturous pace as he angles his hips to hit that one spot that makes you see stars. "Right here? Hm?" Charles asks moving his hips faster which has you gapsing.
"Fuck yes, right there." Fingers digging into his back as you drag them down leaving your mark on him, it hates how he wants it to hurt to remind him of the pain he's going to be causing you.
The two of you lose yourself in each other chasing your own highs. "I...I'm fuck." Legs tighten on his waist locking him in as you come Charles pumping into you a couple more times before he shudders placing his weight on top of you.
"You'll love me forever, right?" Charles's question shocks you out of your euphoric high. "What?" You can't help the little giggle that escapes you. It dies fast when you see the harsh stare of your boyfriend.
"Of course, Charles." You sit up sliding out from under him. "You're the love of my life. I'm never leaving you." He nods, but hands move around reaching into his nightstand he nods. "I don't believe you." He whispers hand wrapping around what he was looking for.
"Charles, how could you say that? I love you, I will always lo-" Eyes widen feeling a little prick in your neck, Charles staring at you no emotion displayed. "You can say it all you want, but this is the only way. Only way I can keep you. You're either mine, or no one's." He whispers watching you fall back into the pillows.
"The only way, only way."
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reiding-writing · 4 months
Text
melatonin and oxytocin [ s.r ]
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Summary:
You and Spencer pair up in an inn room that just happens to have one bed. Oh, and did you know that physical contact promotes better sleep? Well, that’s what Spencer says anyway. And he’s always right.
WARNINGS: literally none, crazy i know
pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader
genre: pure fluff, friends to lovers
wc: 5.1k
masterlist!!
a/n: here’s my official apology for all of the angst i put you through in erotomania 😭 i dont write pure fluff like ever so please bare with me if it’s a little stunted 😭🫶 also this is very very loosely based of off 05X21 - Exit Wounds.
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The team was currently in Alaska working on a case, set up in a small inn during their stay. The issue was, they could only provide 4 rooms despite there being 8 members on the team, meaning that everyone had to double up for the night.
Spencer’s first instinct was to turn towards Morgan, but before he even had the chance to open his mouth Morgan was profusely shaking his head. “Absolutely not,”
“Wha-” Morgan held up his hand before Spencer could question his decision. “Never again. You are some kind of vampire I swear,”
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in Morgan’s direction, met with a shrug. “This man needs his beauty sleep,”
“Dibs!” Garcia leaned over the back of the couch she was sat on so she could grasp at Morgan’s forearm. “I call dibs.”
Morgan chuckles at Garcia’s enthusiasm, leaning over to place a kiss on the crown of her head. “Alright, me and you babygirl,”
Garcia’s soft giggle is joined by a yawn from where you’re sat next to her, and you rub your eye with your knuckle as you lean your head against the back of the couch. “Can we just all choose quickly? I’m exhausted-”
The end of your sentence is cut off with another yawn, only further emphasising your point. Your words were definitely more blunt than usual, your tiredness most definitely making you more irritable.
“I uh- You can share a room with me if you want,” Spencer’s voice is timid as he speaks, and if he wasn’t stood directly behind you you’re not sure you would’ve heard it.
"Sure great, let’s go-" You drag one of the room keys off the small table in front of you as you stand, throwing your travel bag over your shoulder and walking around the couch, placing the palm of your hand flat on Spencer’s back to push him towards the stairs up to the rooms. “Goodnight.”
Your call back to the rest of the team is more of a custom than a genuine wish for them to get a good rest, and if you were more alert you’d probably hit yourself over the back of the head for being so blunt. But politeness wasn’t on your mind right now. You just wanted to sleep.
You fumble with putting the key in the door through your drowsiness, but eventually manage to push the door open to the room.
It’s about what you’d expect from somewhere small like this in the middle of nowhere.
The flooring was dark, with a small rectangular rug in a wine red colour in the centre, the walls an off-white with a slightly suspicious looking water stain in one of the corners. There was a dark-brown leather armchair leaned against the wall next to an ajar door leading to a bathroom, with a decorative pillow of the same shade of red as the rug on the floor. The arm of the chair had a noticeable rip, most probably from a child who’d got bored whilst staying there.
The room was warmly lit from the two lamps on the two side tables, the only other thing on them a basket-weaved mug coaster. The over head light was notably turned off, unable to be used at all seeing as it didn’t even have a bulb in it.
And of course, there was a single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room, it’s frame the same dark wood as the floorboards and definitely just as worn.
Although, the duvet and its pillows seemed brand new, a clean, sparkling white that stood out against the dis-colouring of the wall behind it, a throw blanket over the end and two decorative pillows on top, again matching the other decorative pieces in their dark red colouring.
You didn’t even have to look over at Spencer to know that he was definitely a little perturbed.
With a sigh your drag yourself into the room, dumping your bag on the armchair and unzipping it to pull out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to change into.
Spencer however, remained stood in the doorway, seemingly considering whether it would be a better option for him to go out and sleep in the SUV.
His rational brain told him to just suck it up and get on with it, but he couldn’t help that subconscious voice in the back of his head that rattled on about how unhygienic hotel rooms are, especially in small rural areas like this.
Not only that, he was also battling the reality that he would inevitably have to share a bed with you, even if it was large enough to house both of you without any unintentional physical contact; He was at least grateful that it actually looked clean.
“Can I- leave the light on?” He breaks his own train of thought as he pushes the door closed with his foot, surrendering to the inevitability of spending the night in this dingy room with you.
You give him a short nod as your answer, joined by your third yawn in the span of five minutes. "God I genuinely think I could fall asleep standing up right now-"
Spencer chuckles at your yawn and nods at your words, leaving his bag on the floor as he takes a seat on the left edge of the bed, pulling out a copy of Les Fluers de Mal and flipping through it until he found the page he’d left on.
“It has been scientifically proven that it is physically impossible to fall asleep while standing, as your cerebellum would be triggered in response to the lack of stimulation which would cause a reflexive response to make you sit down.”
Of course Spencer would know something like that.
You rifle through your bag to find your toothbrush and travel toothpaste. "So what I’m hearing is I could fall asleep standing, but then i’d just end up sitting down," You zip your bag shut again once you’ve retrieved everything you need, pushing open the door to the small en suite bathroom, which thankfully, was much newer than the bedroom. "That sounds like falling asleep standing up if you ask me,"
Your voice muffles ever so slightly as you shut the door behind you.
“Yes, that is a fairly logical conclusion,” He nods slightly as he reads, not taking in the fact that you can’t see him from behind the door.
“Although I still believe it doesn’t quite count as 'falling asleep standing', as when you sit down your brain then activates its natural response to the loss of stimulation in order to put you to sleep. You see, it is impossible to enter the first stage of the sleep cycle within that split second between standing and sitting down, meaning that your body would still be awake.”
You chuckle lightly as you stick your head out of the bathroom once you’ve finished changing, toothbrush in your mouth as you dump your work clothes over the arm of the chair.
“The act of falling asleep occurs when your brain begins to transition from a state of wakefulness to a state of deep sleep. This is signalled by a spike in alpha-waves, which creates a relaxed feeling leading to…” He trails off as he watches you walk past him, figuring you’re not listening to him anymore.
"Why’d you stop?" You straighten your posture as you stop momentarily in your tracks, turning your head towards him.
“Oh, I- thought that you weren’t interested in listening to what I was saying.” His reply betrays his surprise at your engagement.
“I was simply going to add that when you are sitting and the spike in alpha waves occurs and you begin to fall asleep, your brain will automatically trigger a response that causes you to slump forward, hence causing you to sit down.”
Your body subconsciously mirrors your brain’s interpretation of what slumping over means as you walk past him again to spit out your toothpaste.
"Oh- like when you’re in a car and your head falls forwards-"
“Yes, that is a fairly similar example actually. Your brain receives the sign that you are beginning to fall asleep when your head starts to nod forward, and this causes a trigger within the brain’s automatic control system that in turn activates a response that makes you sit up straight so that you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.” As Spencer speaks, he shuts his book, leaving it on the side table as he unpacks his bag so he can also change.
“It’s actually rather surprising how the brain is capable of performing such complex tasks that we sometimes don’t even realise,” He said with an astonished gleam in his eye.
"Huh, the more you know-" You give a satisfied nod at Spencer’s little exposition, taking a seat on the right side of the bed and leaning over to turn the lamp off, allowing Spencer to leave his on as he retreats into the bathroom.
You’d never express it verbally, especially not to Spencer’s face, but you quite liked when he’d ramble about topics he was interested in and knew a lot about, it was both educational and weirdly charming.
You let out another yawn as you pulled back the duvet to lie down, extremely grateful that the mattress of the bed was just as new as the bedding itself. Looked like you might be able to get a good night’s sleep after all.
"Did you know that the human brain has over 100 billion neurons making over 100 trillion connections between them. Each second, a 100 billion electrical messages pass from one neuron to another. It is really quite fascinating." Spencer continued his tangents as he exited the bathroom, now clad in a black t-shirt and a pair of tardis pyjama pants that you found oddly endearing.
"That’s a lot of electrical signals…"
"A lot is an understatement" He chuckled, moving over to the left side of the bed and carefully laying himself down, making sure he wasn’t accidentally making any contact with you.
"It is so complex that it is believed that only a portion of our neurons actually fire each second, meaning that there is potentially trillions of more electrical messages going to unused parts of our brain." He seems to get lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling as he considers the idea further.
You hum softly with a small nod at his assessment, turning to lie on your side so you were half-facing him as he looked up at the ceiling, and you couldn’t help but find yourself tracing his jawline with your eyes as you studied how the dim lighting from the lamp besides him gave it even more definition.
Spencer turns to look at you after a few moments and notices your sleepy expression, feeling a tinge of guilt at keeping you awake since you are clearly exhausted. “I should probably shut up and let you get at least a little sleep. “ He chuckles awkwardly, “Sorry for rambling on, I kind of got carried away.”
"It’s okay… I like listening to you…" You rub one of your eyes with your knuckle as you struggle to keep them fully open, eyelids fluttering as you blink repeatedly to keep them from closing shut. You weren’t done looking at him yet.
Spencer’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your confession of enjoying listening to what he had to say.
He then starts to talk again, his voice quieter as he tries to accommodate it to your tiredness. “It’s not the brain’s electrical signals that dictate if you sleep or not, by the way. It is actually a neurotransmitter called melatonin.”
“Melatonin is the hormone responsible for controlling your sleep cycle, and it’s responsible for that sleepy feeling we get when we're tired.”
"Mhm…” You nod softly against the pillow, that was one fact you were definitely familiar with thanks to the joys of university, although hearing it come from Spencer’s mouth just made you want to go along with what he was saying like it was brand new to you.
“Melatonin also helps to regulate your body’s circadian rhythm, which is basically your daily schedule,” Spencer explained.
“Our bodies are naturally conditioned to go through a cycle of sleep and wakefulness. During the day your body will release cortisol and adrenaline for stress management and focus, and during the night your body will release melatonin to help you relax, making you feel sleepy.”
“Well i’m certainly feeling the effects of melatonin right now…” You try to keep up your responses to what Spencer is saying without falling asleep, but you can’t help closing your eyes as you focus on the softness of his voice.
Spencer smiles at your response and nods as he looks at you and notices your eyes are closed. “I should probably stop rambling then, since I don’t want to keep you awake for any longer…” He spoke even softer if that was possible, his eyes trailing over your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.
"I like your voice Spencer, it’s calming…" Your words are half muffled as you mumble them against your pillow. "And your facts are interesting…"
“Huh?” He asked you with a raised eyebrow, having not quite heard what you’d said.
"I like hearing you…" You simplify your words a little bit as you repeat what you’d said, a little louder this time, and you force your eyes back open again to look at him.
Spencer’s cheeks immediately turn pink at the compliment, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He is then quiet for a moment as he tries to process what you said.
“You… like hearing my voice?” He asks, a tinge of confusion evident in his voice, to which you reply with a soft nod and a small hum of affirmation. "I hate it when people interrupt you…"
Spencer’s cheeks remain a light shade of pink as he tries to process what you said, and he stays quiet for a while, trying to think of how he could respond to your little confession.
“I… Well… thank you-” he replies, trying to stay calm whilst also hiding his flustered smile.
“No problem…”
Spencer smiles at your response, eyes studying your expression in an attempt to better understand your feelings. All that he can make out however is your hair, and your tired and half-closed eyes.
“You know, you should probably go to sleep.” He chuckles softly, “It’s quite late after all,”
“Yeah… that’s a good idea…” Your voice is quiet as you mutter out an agreement, but you can’t help from feeling a mild disappointment that your small conversation with Spencer was coming to an end.
“Did you know it takes an average of 7 minutes to fall asleep?” You murmur out the fact as a last resort, half-hoping that it will encourage Spencer to keep talking to you.
“Well, it depends on the person actually” His reply is soft and non derogatory, and his eyes remain locked on the peaceful tiredness in your expression. “On average it takes about 15 minutes of lying down in a relaxing environment to fall asleep, however for some people it might take 20 minutes or more. On the other hand, some people can fall asleep much quicker, with one study finding that it only took an individual 65 seconds to fall asleep.”
“I wish I was that person,” You shift slightly to make yourself more comfortable, pulling your right leg upwards towards your chest and incidentally brushing it against his in the process.
Spencer is lost in his emotions as he stares at you, and it takes you turning your head against the pillow for him to realise that he wasn’t fully listening to what you’d said. “Oh- Yeah, pretty lucky huh?”
His eyes avert from you after that, suddenly very intrigued by the water stain in the top corner of the wall opposite where you were laying down, trying to remind himself that it is inappropriate to stare at his colleagues like that.
But despite all the rationalisation, his heart continues to beat at an accelerated pace and he begins to feel strangely excited seeing you move around the bed. You might be tired, but he certainly wasn’t. Not anymore.
Spencer turns to look at you again as you cover your face with your arm, seemingly protecting your eyes from the light of the lamp on his side table.
He’s silent for a moment as he finds himself staring at you again, mentally punching himself for finding himself getting so lost in your facial features.
"Do you want the light off?" He asks you, keeping the tone of his voice gentle.
“No it’s okay,” Shake your head underneath your arm, “You can keep it on…”
You knew about Spencer’s phobia of the dark. The whole team did. It was pretty much a given after what he went through a few years ago with Tobias Hankel. And you wouldn’t mind sacrificing your comfort of sleeping in pitch black darkness if it meant that Spencer wouldn’t be uncomfortable or afraid.
Spencer gives a nod at your answer, and you can tell he’s relieved that you didn’t want him to turn it off. After a few seconds he speaks again.
"Can I ask you something?" He says, keeping his voice soft.
“Mhm?” You move your arm from your face to rest against your forehead so that you can look at him as he speaks.
Spencer's cheeks immediately turn a light shade of pink again as he meets your eyes. “It's… uh… Well, it's a strange question,” He replies awkwardly
“Would… you mind if I… uh….” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “Would you mind if I put my arm around you?” He eventually manages to say, keeping his voice soft.
“Huh-?” You let you arm fall back down to your side as you process his question, eyes blinking more awake and Spencer’s cheeks only turn more red as he sees your surprised expression.
“Well… You see… I- it's a common thing that people do when sleeping… to… uh… to hold one another..” Spencer replies, still keeping his tone soft and gentle. He begins feels incredibly stupid for even bringing up this topic, hastily trying to explain himself before it has the opportunity to become awkward.
“Is it?-” Your eyes flicker around his face, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as your exhaustion seems to momentarily disappear.
“Uhm… well… usually it’s for romantic reasons,” He replies, his face turning a light shade of pink yet again. “But… uh… I’ve … heard… that some people like to cuddle in a… platonic way… to help them fall asleep…” His voice threatens to waver slightly as he speaks, and he hides the lower half of his face in the bedsheets in an attempt to hide his cheeks, not wanting you to see how red he’s gone.
“Oh- Uh- Well, if you think it’ll help…” Your subconscious mind knew that Spencer was pulling those facts out of his ass, but you didn’t have the mind to care, not when he was practically openly inviting you to drape yourself all over him.
Spencer perks up when you give him the go-ahead, gently wrapping his arm around you and lightly pulling you closer to his body as he turns to look at your face. “Is this okay?”
His expression screams nervousness as he stares at you, praying that you don’t find his actions uncomfortable.
“Mhm…” Your response is short and direct as you nod, adjusting yourself to lie with your head resting under his chin, allowing your arm to drape over his torso like he’d done yours and bringing your leg up to rest over his waist.
Spencer can’t help but smile as he feels you make yourself more comfortable, sliding one of his arms underneath you and moving the other to hold the inside crease of your knee.
“Do you know that physical contact has a calming effect on people’s minds?” He keeps his voice gentle, as he always does.
You give a soft hum that gently vibrates against the skin of his neck, sending a small shudder down Spencer’s back.
He carefully adjusts the position of his head so that he can keep looking at your half-closed eyes, figuring that considering the two of you were practically intertwined like a pretzel that it would be okay for him to gaze at you again.
“You know that skin-to-skin contact promotes the release of oxytocin…. It… uh… it can help to make you feel calm and comfortable,” He says softly.
“Oxytocin…” You mumble the word under your breath as you try to remember what the hormone is, “…the love hormone..?”
Spencer’s voice turns to a whisper as he responds. “That’s correct. A lot of people refer to it as the ‘love hormone’ because it is released at high levels when people engage in romantic activities or are falling in love.”
“It is also responsible for the feeling of trust and comfort,” His hand on your leg begins to draw small circles against your skin, barely feathering over you to the point where you can hardly feel it.
“Would you believe me if I told you that we were producing this hormone right now?”
You sigh softly against his neck at the ghost of his fingers against your leg, only half listening to what he’s saying as you try to focus on the feeling, and Spencer responds with one of his own as he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin, leaving small goosebumps in it’s wake.
Spencer’s fingers slowly widen their ascent up and down the side of your leg, brushing along your thigh as his fingertips gently skim your skin.
“Comforting, isn’t it?” His voice is low and gentle as he feels just how comforting your presence is, slightly shocked by how excited he feels when being this close to you.
“Yeah…” You muster up as much of nod under his chin as you can, giving his torso a slight squeeze from where your hand is around it.
Spencer smiles at your gentle squeeze of his torso, noting how light it is as you barely manage to add any pressure at all.
“Do you know that physical touch also triggers a person’s serotonin and dopamine production?” He asks you softly.
As if to test his fact himself, he moves his thumb up and down your thigh with a little more pressure, his fingertips leaving behind a trail of almost unnoticeable goosebumps.
“Yeah… Yeah I knew that…”
Spencer smiles softly at your confirmation. “Then you know the feeling they’re giving you right now?”
You give him another small nod as he pulls you a little closer to him, stroking his fingers a little higher up your thigh. His arm underneath your side shifts to your mid back and starts to gently massage at the tense muscles formed over your last few days bent over a desk to work on the case’s profile.
The slow pressure elicits a soft groan from your lips, a pleasant release from all of the tension you’d been carrying over the last few days, slowly dissipating as his fingers worked their magic over your t-shirt.
Spencer can feel you starting to relax into his body as his fingers work against your skin, and his breath threatens to catch in his throat as your hand moves from resting around his torso to up over his shoulder, fingers curling closed against the fabric of his t-shirt.
Spencer leans his nose against the crown of your head, the trace scent of lavender entering his nose as he took a slow breath in, most likely a trace from when you’d last washed your hair.
By this point, the two of you were very aware that the position you were in was anything but platonic, his hand tracing patterns into your thigh, your head pressed into the crook of his neck, and your hand slowly tracing over the curve of his shoulder to take it’s place cupping his cheek, your thumb pressed against the front of his ear with the rest of your fingers splayed in the soft curls gracing the side of his head.
“I’ve run out of facts…” Spencer laughs nervously at his confession, breaking the small silence between you.
“you’ve run out of facts…?” You force your eyes to blink open again as you repeat his statement as a question, pulling your head out of it’s position under his chin to look up at him curiously as you arbitrarily trace your thumb over his jaw. It wasn’t at all like Spencer to just not have anything to say.
Spencer’s face turns a dark shade of red when he hears your question, made much worse at the feeling of your thumb on his jaw, the feeling sends a shiver down his spine. “I- Yeah….” He says quietly.
Suddenly a thought passes through his brain.
“I… actually…. I do have one more fact…” his voice turns to a whisper as he speaks, a tinge of nervousness still lingering in his tone.
“Hmm?” Your expression brightens a little, and he catches the small glisten in your eyes as the dim light from the lamp reflects off of your irises.
There’s a short pause.
Spencer then clears his throat before speaking.
“...Do you know that right now... at this very moment... I want to kiss you…?”
He remains facing away, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin as he mutters out his confession, trailing off at the end to the point where if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard it.
“...Is that okay…?” His voice was barely a whisper, scared that if he were to speak too loudly he’d scare you off and you’d never want to speak to him again.
“You want to… kiss me..?” His confession spurred you further awake, no longer struggling to keep your eyes open as you scanned his expression, your hand halting its movement against his jaw.
The sight of you gazing up at him makes his heart skip a beat and causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach. Spencer then looks down at the space between your noses, and speaks nervously.
“…I- Yes, I want… to kiss you…” His eyes quickly dart over to your lips and back again as he waits for any signal of acknowledgement or refusal.
“Will it help us fall asleep?” The question leaves your mouth instinctively as a way to try an alleviate the mild awkwardness between the two of you, and you internally berate yourself for not taking the situation seriously.
Spencer laughs a small, nervous laugh when you ask if it would help you both fall asleep, moving his hands back over to your thigh and gently brushing his fingertips against it.
Spencer then looks down at your lips again as he speaks. “No, I don’t think so…” He says, his tone once again turning to a whisper. “…if anything it might actually wake us both up further…”
“Just say it will so I can kiss you-“ Spencer remains silent for a moment, face frozen in shock. He then lets out a nervous sigh as he looks down at your lips again.
“…It- Yeah- Yeah it’ll help us fall asleep…” he whispers, his voice barely audible, and he gives you a nod that’s a little too eager.
“Then there’s no harm in trying right?” Your hand cups the side of his face, gently encouraging it down towards yours so you can finally place a kiss on those perfect pink lips of his.
“Yeah…” He slowly leans forward towards you, taking in your faint scent, the warmth coming from your breath, the softness and moisture of your lips.
Spencer’s lips slowly press against yours, just barely ghosting them with the tiniest bit of pressure. He then slowly pulls back, his eyes darting all over your face before again settling on the stain in the corner of the wall. It was just so interesting.
You take his chin in your hand gently to turn his face back towards your own, your thumb gently tracing the line under his bottom lip as your eyes scan his cheeks, pouring over the extremely faint spotted freckles over his cheeks. You’d never noticed them before. But then again you’d never been close enough to.
“I’m not quite sure it worked… Maybe we should try again…” You watch as Spencer’s face erupts into a beautiful pink flush, a soft breath resembling a laugh leaving his mouth. “Yeah, we can try again-”
Spencer nods as he speaks cutting his own sentence short as he leans down to kiss you again, adding a little more pressure this time as he seemingly grows in confidence. The kiss remains chaste and short, and as he pulls away for the second time his eyes remain fixed on you, smiling alongside his mouth.
“Is it working now?” He laughs softly as he speaks, eyelashes gently fluttering as he places a kiss on the bridge of your nose, his fingers slowly sliding into your hair at your temples.
“I’m not sure yet…” You respond with a kiss of your own placed against the curve of his chin. “Maybe we should keep going…” You place another kiss right in the corner of his mouth, and Spencer sighs softly as it misses his lips by a hair. “For research purposes…”
He smiles lightly when you mention it being for ‘research’, and his voice grows even quieter as he speaks.
“Yeah… research purposes…”
997 notes · View notes
breeloveschris · 2 months
Text
If Only You Knew Pt 2
Pt 1 Pt 3
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader
Summery: Y/n has the biggest crush on Matthew Sturniolo but Matt doesn’t know she exists until Y/n’s video goes viral and everyone tags him in it
Warnings: cussing
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Y/n’s pov:
The next morning I woke up to a pillow hitting my face. I groan pushing it away from my face. “Nia what the fuck” I said turning away from the pillow still not opening my eyes. “Get up, it’s 12 pm” Nia said shaking me. “I’m awake! You don’t gotta shake me damn” I said pushing her away. “Why are you so hard to work with in the morning” she said plopping down on my bed with a sigh. “Why are you even waking me up right now.” I said rubbing my face before opening my eyes and looking at her.
“Because I just got off of work and I’m bored” she said pouting. I side eyed her “girl put your bottom lip away” I said while laughing. “You’re a brat when you wake up” she said laughing. “And you’re a baby when you’re bored” i said with a laugh. She just shook her head laughing. “What do you wanna do today?” Nia said getting up. “I kinda don’t wanna do anything” I said while I stretched before getting out of bed. “We gotta do something” she said looking at me. “How about we film for our YouTube channel” i said shrugging.
We have a shared YouTube account. We post every Saturday and seeing that today is Friday we really need to film. “I’m down, you got any ideas?” Nia asked looking in my closet. I walk over to her, also looking. “What if we do smash, marry, kill” I said pulling out a pair of black leggings. “Okay.. but with who” Nia asked while showing me a cropped grey shirt. I shook my head saying no to the shirt. “We could do other influencers” i said with a smirk. “I like that, also wear that grey crop with the pink shit on it”
“Good thinking, let’s stir some shit up” I said pumping my fist in the air. Nia went to her room to do whatever while I showered and did my makeup. After getting ready I made my way to the living room. I sat on the couch taking a quick picture of me, with the caption “give me three influencers 😋”. I posted it on instagram, while waiting for people to respond I opened tik tok looking at the comments on my recent post. My heart dropped to my toes. He saw it. And he commented. I kept staring at the “Crazy how you barely spoke last night but can post this 😂”.
I replied with “ 🤨 you didn’t see this ✋🏼”. As soon as I pressed reply, Nia walked out of her room. “Nia. Matt saw the video. And he commented!” I said with a red face. “Girl why do you look like you’re gonna cry, you tagged him” Nia said laughing while sitting next to me. “Because I didn’t actually think he’d see it let alone comment” I said with wide eyes. “Maybe he’s in love with you or something, what did he even say” she said laughing. I just sighed “he said “Crazy how you barely spoke last night but can post this 😂” like the audacity that man has” I said shaking my head.
“You can’t even lie, he has a point.” Nia said with a short laugh. “Ugh, I wasn’t even that quiet” I said throwing my head back. “You didn’t barely speak three words to Matt” she said shaking her head pulling her phone out. “Well I was nervous, bro was looking scrumptious” I said letting a giggle out. “You’re so weird. Let’s get the camera out already” Nia said laughing. “Oh shit, I forgot” I said jumping up and running to my room to get my camera. I come back down stairs to see Nia already had the tripod up and was sitting on the couch. I put the camera on the tripod turning the camera on.
I sat down next to Nia, she got off her phone and looked up at the camera. “What’s up hoes and bros, how we doing on this lovely Saturday afternoon” I said letting out a laugh at our intro. “Today we’re playing a game-” Nia started before I interrupted her singing ‘in the end’. Nia covers my mouth with her hand, I pushed it away. “Gross, your hand smells.” I said crossing my arms like a little kid. Nia just laughs and continues. “Today we’re playing a game, you’ve might’ve heard of it.” Nia said smiling while looking at the camera. “Spit it out dummy” I said poking her in the side making her jump away from my finger. “Don’t fucking poke me bitch.” Nia said getting back in place.
“We’re playing fuck, marry, kill” Nia said clapping. “No!” I said yelling, “we’re playing smash, marry, pass” I said rolling my eyes. “Fuck is just crazy and kill is too violent so we changed it up” Nia said with a shrug. I pulled out my phone looking at what all the people said. “Oouu someone said Vinnie Hacker, Colby Brock, and Jake Webber!” I said looking at Nia. “That’s a weird collection of people” Nia said laughing. “But that’s hard” she said sighing. “Wait! No. Someone else said Colby Brock, Johnnie Gilbert, and Jake Webber.” Nia side eyed me and looked at me confused. “Then which one are we doing”.
“The second one, and I wanna go first” I said pushing her and looking up to the camera. “Smash Jake Webber, marry Colby Brock and pass on Johnnie, only because that was the only option.” I said shrugging. “Argue with the wall” I said pointing at Nia. “I was gonna agree but honestly swap Johnnie and Colby.” She said with a shrug. “What? How you gonna do that to my boy Colby” I yelled. Nia laughed and shushed me. “Give me your phone, I wanna pick one.” Nia said reaching for my phone, I gave it to her so she could look.
While she was looking for one. I got up and started singing ‘swim’ by chase Atlantic. Nia kicked me and said “shut up your gonna get us copyrighted”. “I sing nothing like them how would I possibly do that” I said sitting down with a sigh. “I got one!” Nia said, “okay then say it” I said poking her again. “Imma snap your finger in half” she said looking at me. “I’m sorry I’m just so pumped.” I said laughing. “Anyways..” she said looking at the camera then side eyeing me. “Someone said.. I can’t say this without laughing bro” Nia said laughing. “Nia! Just say it!” I said yelling. “Stop yelling.” She said with a straight face.
“Okay so someone said.. Jaden Hossler, Josh Richard’s, and chase Hudson” Nia said finishing off with a laugh. “Girl whoever said that we’re getting married just for the fact you reminded me of that shit” I said with a laugh while punching Nia in the arm. “Ouch, dumb bitch. Ain’t nobody teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” she said rubbing her arm. “Marry Josh, smash Jaden and pass on Chase, chase just gives me the icks” I said shrugging. “Yea no, I’m smashing josh, marrying Chase and passing Jaden, Jaden’s a cheater” she said looking at me.
“Yea that’s why I said smash, no one said we had to be dating” I said with a laugh. “Good point, he’s hot” she said passing me my phone back. I was scrolling for like 30 seconds before gasping. “I knew one of you sneaky little hoes were gonna pick them” I said squinting my eyes at the camera. “Who?” Nia asked looking at me with confusion. “The Sturniolo Triplets” i said with a tight lipped smile. “Oh my god, yay, I love this one.” Nia said clapping and i just laughed shaking my head.
“Marry Chris, Y/n argue with the wall, smash Matt and pass on Nick, only cause you don’t like girls!” She said raising her voice towards the end with a finger raised in the air. I laughed and said “I’m gonna have to disagree completely. I’m gonna marry Nick so we can thrift shop all the time” I stopped and looked at the camera. “Nick please go thrifting with me” and then I continued after Nia and I laughed. “Smash Matt cause look at his fine ass bruh. And pass on Chris cause he just burps way to much” I said with a laugh.
“I thought you wanted to give your left lung to be with Matt” Nia said with a laugh. I literally jumped on top of her yelling shut up over and over again. She just pushed me off and we fell over laughing. “Matt if you see this.. I sincerely apologize for bestfriends lack of words to you the other night, you make her extremely nervous.” Nia said smiling at the camera. “Girl- you’re gonna get the comments rolling with that” I said shaking my head. “Oh yea, when this comes out, look at my instagram and it’ll explain what I just said.” Nia said pointing at the camera.
“Okay enough about the strumbolognas” I said waving my hand in front of the camera. “Here you pick” i said passing the phone to Nia. As she’s scrolling I look at the camera. “You guys are so pretty!” I yelled smiling. “Girl quit yelling, we’re gonna get a noise complaint” Nia said pushing me. “I’m sorry, look at them! You can’t blame me.” I shrugged pointing at the camera. “Okay I got one”. Nia said being quiet. “Okay? Then say it” I said throwing my head back. “Charli Damelio, Dixie Damelio, and Addison Rae.” Nia said with a grin.
I screamed before saying, “okay hear me out.. I like my women older” I continued shrugging. “So I’d say marry Dixie, smash Addison and pass on charli cause she’s the youngest” I said pointing at Nia. “Do you agree?” I asked. “Honestly I do” she said with a laugh. “Also you need to calm down, you been talking way too much.” Nia said shaking her head while looking for another one. “It’s a YouTube video Nia, one of us gotta entertain them. And since you’re being quiet, I gotta do it.” I said crossing my arms. “Girl I’m only quiet cause you talk so damn much” Nia said once again shaking her head.
I looked at the camera then back to Nia before slowly turning back to the camera. “Do y’all hear this? I’m getting bullied” I said pouting. “Okay Matt” Nia said with a raised eyebrow. “Aye dont come for my babydoll” I said poking her. “Watch the fingers Y/n” Nia said firmly. “Aw I’m so scared” I said putting my hands up in surrender. “I got one!” Nia said throwing my phone on the couch. “Okay guys. This one’s kinda crazy.. Johnny Orlando, Carson Lueders, and Asher angel.” She said with a shrug. “Marry Johnny, smash Carson, pass on Asher” I said shrugging “no ifs and buts about it, just how it goes” I finished.
Surprisingly Nia agreed. I was looking for another one when Nia gasped beside me. I turned to look at her to figure out why the fuck she was gasping. “What?” I said annoyed that she didn’t just tell me. “Lose the tude girl” she said shaking her head. “Everyone’s tagging us in a TikTok that Matt just posted.” She said said with a hum. “Okay? They always do that.” I said looking back at my phone. “It’s lowkey about you..” she said hushed. What? “What the hell are you talking about” i said putting my phone down and turning off the camera so I don’t have to even more editing tonight.
“He used the song babydoll by Dominic Fike” Nia said with a giggle. Does she really think he made a post about me? It’s just a song. I just laughed and turned on the camera. “Anyways” I said before continuing on with the video, ignoring the thoughts in my head. The video went on for about 20 more minutes before we did the outro. Nia went to her room to get her keys and shoes while I put my shoes on because we decided to go thrifting. When we got in the car Nia was getting songs queued, she looked at me with a smirk on her face as the first song started playing.
Babydoll by Dominic Fike was blaring through the speakers. I groaned loudly rolling my eyes before turning the music down. “Nia, it’s just a song. It has no connections too me.” I said turning to her as she was pulling out of the parking lot. “In your caption you literally called him babydoll and the day after he made a TikTok with the song babydoll. You can’t tell me there’s not a single connection.” She said shaking her head. “Maybe it was in his drafts. And the video didn’t have anything on it or a caption.” I said with another eye roll. “The fans clocked it, why can’t you” she said with a frustrated sigh.
“Because it’s a song! There is nothing behind that.” I said yelling out. I’ve never been so frustrated with Nia, why can’t she just understand that it’s probably just a song. There’s a slight possibility that it could be about me but I highly doubt that. “I think you’re just being stupid” Nia said with a sigh. “I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore” I said letting out a groan. “I think you should duet it and see if he says anything” Nia said with a shrug. “Absolutely not.” I said shaking my head. “Then I will, and I’ll show you in the video and caption it “bros ignoring the fact that this video is about her” and then the fans will get Matt to see it” Nia said with a head nod.
I just roll my eyes, not responding to drop the conversation about Matt. We made it to the store and while we were walking around looking at clothes babydoll started playing on the speaker. I groan looking at Nia who was smirking. Why can’t I escape this song now. Is this my life now? Am I gonna hear babydoll everywhere I go. Nia laughs and says “it’s a sign” before walking over to a little further down the rack. I was looking at the shirts when the bell above the door rang telling everyone that someone just walked through.
I heard a small gasp from beside me. “They’re following us I swear.” Nia whispered to me. Who the hell was she talking about. I looked up and looked around before meeting eyes with Matt Sturniolo, I looked down immediately finding the pattern on the shirt the most interesting thing in the world. “Don’t do anything stupid, let’s just leave” I said in a whisper and I don’t hear anything from Nia until I hear her speak louder “are you stalking us or something” she was talking to the triplets with what I could only assume was a smirk. I internally groan walking away from her, as I hear them laugh.
This can’t be happening. I mean secretly I’m not mad about it. But the fact that they keep popping up everywhere without them even being there is scary. Me and Nia have lived in La for almost a year and only bumped into them once before yesterday. It was a few months ago, we saw them at the movie theater but we didn’t say anything to them because we didn’t wanna interrupt anything. But ever since I posted that stupid TikTok they have been literally everywhere and it was only yesterday when I posted it.
“Y/n, why are you all the way over there, come say hey to us” I heard Chris say behind me. I roll my eyes and turn around with a smile and walk over to them. “Hey guys” I said quietly while standing beside Nia, Matt smirked at my quietness. “Oh this reminds me” Nia started saying with a laugh. Oh no. “Matt why do I keep getting tagged in your recent tik tok” Nia said with a smirk. I just play with my hands trying to avoid the embarrassment I’m about to get. “Oh yeah, I swear I’ve never seen that many comments with the same two people being tagged” Chris said with a laugh while Matt shakes his head. “I think it was the song choice, Matt knew exactly what he was doing” Nick said with a laugh.
“So it was about the video Y/n posted?” Nia asked smirking. “100% I knew the fans would go crazy, I’m surprised they actually caught onto it tho” Matt said with a laugh. It was? I wanted to shrink so tiny that I could just walk out with no one noticing. “See I told you” Nia said looking at me and hitting my shoulder. I just shrugged and looked at Nick who was smirking. “So why are y’all stalking us” Chris said squinting his eyes at us. “Hey! There’s no stalking going on. Nia just wanted to go thrifting and this is our favorite spot.” I said with a shrug. I catch a glimpse of Matt smirking. Is that all he does? He always got a damn smirk on his face.
“I can’t blame you there, this is mine too” Nick said with a laugh. “This is actually where we found the dress Y/n was wearing last night” Nia said pointing at me. Nick smiles and said “I still can’t believe you thrifted that” I smiled at him. “It was only 10 dollars!” I said with a big smile. “Damn” Matt said with a smile. I looked at him for a mere 10 seconds before looking literally anywhere else. They kept talking but I wasn’t focused on that, I was looking at the clothes beside us. “What do you think Y/n?” Nick said catching my attention. I turned around with a quick “huh” noticing it was just Nick and Nia standing there now.
“We were talking about exchanging numbers to collab sometime” Nick said with a laugh. “The fans would eat that shit up honestly, I’m down” I said with a smile. “There she is” Nia said with a giggle. “It’s gonna be hard filming with Y/n in the same room with Matt, for some reason she’s so quiet around him” Nia said laughing. “Does my brother make you nervous Y/n?” Nick asked with a smile. Yes. He does. “No! I’m just quiet around new people” I said smiling. Nick and Nia look at each other sharing glances before laughing. “What! Why are you guys laughing!” I said with a laugh. “You talked to me and Chris perfectly fine. You didn’t say anything to Matt tho” Nick said coming down from his laugh.
I groaned. “It’s okay, you’re a Matt girl, that’s how they usually act” Matt said walking over to us. I groaned louder. “Matt shut up” I said while putting my face in my hands. “Ah she speaks!” Matt said smiling. Nia grabbed my hands pulling them off my face yet again. “Okay let’s wrap this up I wanna go eat” Chris said rubbing is stomach. “Oh my god! Do you guys wanna come with?” Nick said with a huge smile. “I mean shit, we don’t got nothing going on” Nia said with a smile. I just shrugged and said “let’s go” what the fuck has my life come to.
This is very long.. I apologize 🙃
Also if you’d like to be taken off this taglist lmk, or lmk if you only want to be tagged in one series and tell me which one 🫡
Taglist: @lacysturniolo @mattsaq @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosreads @creamoncreamoncream2 @robins-scoop @blahbel668 @carolsturns1 @sturniolopepsi @luverboychris @hearts4chris @freshloveforthefit @stuniolobbg @novasturniolo03 @alexb5598 @sturnioloa @nicksmainbitch @icedchailatee @bunbunbl0gs @b2cute @iloveneilperry @tubl-mc @mxqdii @mattsaq @jennss23
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devildomditzy · 11 months
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Wincing, you continue to wrap the mess of bandages around your damaged hand. Sure, you weren’t new to teleportation, and you can't even begin to count the times where Solomon failed to remind you to “stick the landing”, but you’re not sure if teleportation through time played by the same rules.
You’re lucky. Mammon caught you before you could hit the ground, because of course he does. Hell, just last week he caught you before you could trip your clumsy ass down the stairs in the hallway. Even in non threatening situations, his intuition to protect you over all else shone through his tough guy façade.
You instantly clung to him, because well, it’s him. Once you both landed, you leaned into his embrace. Though by now you were used to random cases of danger invading your daily life in the Devildom, plummeting from the sky unexpectedly is still enough to shake you up.
You let out a stuttering breath.
“Thanks, Mammon. I have absolutely no idea how I teleported up there. Maybe I don’t have as good a grip on my sorcery as I thought.”
You look up at him with a small smile, the one you know drives him crazy.
He returns it with a blank stare.
“How’d ya know my name?”
Something was clearly wrong.
“Not to be facetious, but I could heal that for you, you know. You could heal that for you.”
You glare up from your spot on the bed to make eye contact with Solomon.
“Gee, thanks for the reminder.”
His lips purse together in a thin line in a valiant attempt to hold back his laughter as he steps closer to you.
“You’ve got to admit, though unexpected, this turn of events is quite humorous, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m thousands of years in the past, my friends and boyfriend don’t recognize me, and I’ve only got you to keep me company. Hilarious.”
His lips upturn in a devious smirk. You hate that smirk.
“Aw, is it so bad to have to live with me? We’ve got all of Cocytus Hall to ourselves. I could wake up everyday and cook breakfast-"
“Please don’t.”
“We can divide up the chores, it’ll be like we’re newlyweds.”
Your wrapping halts so that you could look up at the pain in your ass. You need to ensure he sees the way you scrunch up your face in disgust.
“If I wasn’t in so much pain I’d slap you, but I won’t, consider it a favor.”
You continue wrapping the roll around your palm tightly, just like Mammon had taught you, as he did once before, right after you’d just met. A moment you remembered fondly, one of the first times that he hinted that he might see you as more than a friend. Even if he had a weird way of showing it. The thought makes you smile.
“Well, can we consider it a favor that I followed you all the way out here to ensure your wellbeing?”
You roll your eyes so hard he could probably hear them moving in your skull.
“Oh please, it’s you we’re talking about. There has to be some ulterior motive.”
He seems to pretend to ponder for a bit before tilting his head to the side.
“Ah, was I really that obvious?”
“Of course you were. 'Solomon the Wise' is anything but subtle,” you say, jeering his silly little nickname in a mocking tone.
A small chuckle shakes his head. “Well, I do really want to keep you safe, and return us back to our time with minimal temporal damage, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested to see what this time period had in store.”
You stop once again to give him a confused side eye. “Didn’t you already live this time period?”
His eyes seem to look a little far off, as they typically do when he’s lost in thought. “It was so long ago, I truly don’t remember much of it.”
“Hmm,” you hum finishing up the last of the wrapping and securing it in place. You attempt to flex your hand to the best of your ability. You swear you heard a pop. Your eyes begin to well up.
“Why aren’t you letting either of us heal you again?”, he questions after seeing your pained expression.
“I told you," you frown looking down at your sorry excuse for first aid. "I need a reminder that this isn’t some convoluted dream, or one of Levi’s weird games.”
“The fact that the brothers don’t remember you isn’t reminder enough?”
You know he’s joking, but Solomon always finds a way to get right under your skin in the worst way.
The tears that once threatened to bubble over begin to fall silently, streaking your face as you purposefully avoid eye contact.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, truly.”
You’re both quite for a moment. Surprisingly, the air in the room isn't awkward. It's just... solemn.
He breaks the silence first.
“I know how hard this must be for you, considering how close you all are. To be honest, I'm kind of jealous. So many people care for you so fiercely across all realms.”
You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand.
“You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Sol. It was like I was nothing to him. He didn't even look at me like that the day I met him. ”
He sits down beside you on the bed, pulling an arm around you, allowing you to collapse into him.
“He only looked at you like that because here he doesn’t know you yet. In case you've forgotten, you weren’t exactly born yet,” he teases.
He gets a small chuckle out of you with that one.
As you calm down, you begin to really reflect on what you know, and what he’s told you so far.
“Wait, you mentioned temporal damage before. What did you mean by that?”
“That’s a tricky one. to explain. But I guess to put it in layman's terms; You cannot, no matter what happens, tell anyone that you and I are from the future. Doing so could have dire consequences.”
“Like, it could change how things happened in our time?”
“Precisely.”
“And doing so would cause-”
“Temporal damage, yes.”
You give a dejected sigh. “Doesn’t even matter if I tell them anyway, they’d never believe me.”
“On the off chance that any of them do, or you convince them of the fact, our original timeline could fall apart.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you might never get to go back to the brothers you know today.”
You can’t hide the worry that flashes on your face, even if it was just for a second. You’re the two most powerful sorcerers the world has seen for a very long time, and yet you feel so powerless.
“I-I can’t really feel them anymore. Their pacts, I mean. They’re so faint. B-But, it worked on Satan! So they have to still be in tact, right?”
Solomon smiles at the little glimmer of hope lighting up your face.
“Yes, it’s true that you haven’t formed your pacts yet in this time period, but you’re still the same you from the present. The invisible bonds you share between yourself and the brothers are still connected.”
“How is that even possible?”
“MC," he sighs, trying to figure out the best way to explain. " You didn’t die in our timeline. You didn’t leave, you didn’t cast any spells or trigger any curse. You were just gone. There only thing I could trace was this slight time distortion, so I went off the only lead I had. I’m glad I did.”
“I’m glad too, or I’m afraid I would be dead by now.”
“If I didn’t go after you, I’d be dead by now too”, he laughs, “The brothers aren’t too forgiving when it comes to you.”
The notion fills you stomach with a warm feeling. A warm, thick, bittersweet feeling.
You still have the boys, but they don’t know you yet.
You still have your magic, but not nearly as strong.
You’re not alone, but neither of you have any inkling on how to get back.
Meanwhile in a place in time thousands of years from where you sit now, seven panicked demons are tearing their realm apart high and low to try to find any trace of you.
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homestylehughes · 9 days
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coffee girl
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part 1: the big spill
pairings: luke hughes x fem!reader
summray: on her way to an interview at the prudential Center, someone crashes into y/n someone causing her coffee to go everywhere, and that someone happens to be luke hughes.
wc: 786
warnings: slight angst? cussing, slight fluff. flustered and nervous reader and luke. nothing too crazy yet. OH cliffhanger..kindaa
au: hi everyone!! i'm back with another luke fic but most importantly i'm starting my FIRST ever series woooooohoooooooo. im super excited and nervous to write but i can't WAIT. anyways! i hope you guys enjoy the first part of this series. like and reblog if you'd like. thank you so much for all of the love on my other works, i'm so grateful.
happy reading <3
I'm late. Very late. I'm rushing. No, I'm sprinting. 
I'm late to the most important interview of my life, all because I wanted coffee. 
I shout out a quick “thank you!” to Bastria and sprint out the door. I have 5 minutes to get there. I think to myself I can get there on time. I can do this. 
Quickly running across the crosstalk, I can see the Prudential Center. Almost there, almost there. Shit, 3 minutes to spare. I pick up my speed, if that's even possible at this point. I can feel my neck beginning to sweat as I take each step.
As I turn to the arena, I feel a chest suddenly crash into mine, instantly feeling the cold liquid; my coffee runs down the front of me. 
I pull back from the stranger with a shriek. Looking down at my white shirt that's now covered in brown. My eyes began to water. This can not be happening to me. 
“Oh my gosh, shit I'm so sorry” I heard the stranger say, not being able to pull my head up to meet his eyes, if I did, he’d see mine filled with tears. 
I pull my wrist to my face to check the time, I'm 3 minutes late. Late. Now I'm crying, big hot tears are hitting my cheeks before I have the chance to stop them. 
“Hey hey don't cry, i'll get you a new shirt. Let me help you clean up” the stranger speaks again. 
I tilt my head up to finally look at the stranger and I can't believe my eyes. Luke Hughes. you're actually fucking kidding me. His eyes are locked with mine, I'm trying to search for words to say but I can't seem to find any. 
“H-here take my hoodie” Luke says as he pulls his hoodie off his body. Holding it out for me to grab it, taking the hoodie in my hands whispering a small “thank you” in his direction.
“you’re welcome” he says as he clears his throat, “again I'm really sorry” Luke speaks again. “It's okay” I sigh back, my eyes meeting him again, “ thank you for this, I have to go” I quickly say to him as I turn on my heel, I can feel more tears on my waterline threatening to spill. 
As I make my way away from him, rushing to find a bathroom. I hear someone shout “HEY” behind me, I turn around briefly, to see Luke still standing there “I NEVER GOT YOUR NAME, I'M LUKE” he shouts at me. “Y/N” I yell back, as I turn back around not waiting for his response.
 Im quickly rushing into the bathroom, taking in my disheveled state. Tearing off my shirt and throwing it in my bag as I put Luke's hoodie on, his scent filling my nose, he smells good I think to myself. I pull myself out of my trance quickly. Grabbing a paper towel and bringing it under my eyes and wiping away mascara that's fallen on my face. Fixing my hair, licking my lips deciding this is good enough. 
Glancing at my watch, to see that I'm now 10 minutes late. Shit. I began to run through the center, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, my chest and legs burning each step I took. 
Finally getting to the place where I'm set to have my interview. I slowly walk into the room, hoping my devils hoodie gives me brownie points and distracts them from the fact that I'm over 10 minutes late to my interview. 
  “Y/n! there you are! I was starting to think you wouldn't show!” “I'm Micheal but you can call me Mike,” Mike says to me as he holds his hand out to me, I quickly grab into a shake. “I'm super sorry I'm late” I say quickly, “I had a… coffee accident” I chuckle out. If you only know who ran into me, Mike, I say to myself. 
“Its okay, no worries! You're here now and that's all that matters!” he says back to me, i smile back at him. 
“Lets sit, and get this interview rolling” he says while pulling out a chair for me to sit in, quickly taking a seat placing my bag on the floor beside me. 
“Yes, let's get started!” I replied back, “oh nice Devils hoodie! I meant to tell you that when you walked in” he says to me. “Thank you!” I say as I look down at the hoodie. Thanking Luke in my head for bumping into me. 
“Okay let's get started, '' Mike says. Nodding my head quickly in response, i really hope I get this job, I say to myself. 
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bastardmandennis · 8 months
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even if it’s a false god (marc spector x fem!reader)
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Summary: Your neighbor, Steven, asks you to feed his fish for him while he's away. Instead, you meet who you think is his brother, Marc.
Word Count: 6.9k (nice)
Warnings: oh boy. SMUT! (literally get out of here if you're not 18+ pls), afab reader, no y/n, brief mentions of a wound/blood, mentions of Steven/reader friendship, no layla (devastating tbh), men begging (woo), PIV sex, creampie, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it). riding, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving). one (1) singular slap. vague allusions to the moon knight system/konshu but not really important tbh, drinking of alcohol, i think that's it but pls let me know if i missed anything!
A/N: good lord. this has been drumming around in my head for TOO LONG. i just wanted an excuse to use ^this gif (only slightly joking). title comes from the song false god by tswift (even tho im mad at her rn) bc i am just a simple uncreative girl, okay? pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! xoxo
There in the low light, sitting at your kitchen table, is–fuck, it’s Steven. He doesn’t look good, sweaty and dirty and tired. He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy trying to reach over his shoulder for something. His shirt is on the floor, shredded, along with the bottle of vodka you keep for “emergencies.” What the fuck? “What the fuck?” you echo and he finally looks up at you. You drop the shoe and kick it to the side.  “Steven, are you–what happened?” “Not Steven,” he grunts, and oh the sound of his gruff voice should not be turning you on right now.  “Marc,” you breathe. His dark eyes snap to yours, hand paused awkwardly over his shoulder. You can’t even be too mad at him for breaking in here in the middle of the night, not when he’s looking at you like that, all broody eyes and pouty lips. Fuck, he’s pretty.
All day, there’s been a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that there was something important you forgot to do. At work, you go through your emails, your calendar–nothing there. On the bus ride home, you stare out at the passing scenery, wracking your brain trying to figure out what the hell you’re forgetting. It’s driving you crazy.
It’s not until you reach your apartment door, digging through your bag for your keys, that you realize what it is. You pull out a second set of keys, this one with a small teddy bear charm dangling, and it hits you like a ton of bricks. Fuck. You were supposed to feed your neighbor’s fish for him while he was away. 
You drop your work bag and sprint up the stairs to Steven’s apartment. Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. You don’t think you’d be able to handle the disappointed puppy dog look he’d give you when he comes back and you have to tell him you killed his beloved fish. The way his arms would wrap around himself in comfort, sleeves covering his hands, the way he always did when he was upset. Upset because of you this time. 
Your heart sinks when you make it to his door, panting. Oh this is not good. You can’t remember when exactly he’d said he’d be back–in your defense, he did call you at 2am on a Monday, his voice uncharacteristically gruff as he’d asked you to take care of Stev-my fish for me, apparently taking your mumbled mhm as a concrete sign of agreement. When you’d woken up for real later that day, his keys were sitting on your kitchen table, a note reading Thanks. scrawled out in unfamiliar handwriting. Weird, but Steven was a bit of an odd duck, popping in and out to say hey at all hours, whenever he was awake (which seemed like all the time). The man either slept like the dead or not at all, no inbetween.
You quickly go through his keys, unlocking the top two deadbolts before reaching the main door lock. This one sticks–you shove your shoulder against the door and it bursts open. You tumble into the apartment.
And right into Steven. He’s bare chested, a pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips. Holy shit, since when was Steven ripped? He’s got a few days’ worth of stubble covering his clenched jaw and dark circles under his eyes. His hair is gelled down carefully instead of in its usual wild fluffy curls.
“Steven,” you whisper. He’s still gripping your elbow and you quickly straighten up. “What are you do–”
“Should be asking you that,” he says. His voice is flat, no trace of his usual cheery accent to be seen.
You blink. Study his face, the scowl etched there, the pull of his brows. This isn’t the Steven you know–the one who always greets you with a smile and a quiet heya when you pass each other in the hallway. The one who knocks on your door in the middle of the night with some ancient translation he’s finally figured out, waving his notes excitedly at you. The one who brings you a doughnut on his way home from work sometimes. It’s Steven’s face, for sure, but you’ve never seen this angry expression twisting his features. It feels wrong, it feels…dangerous.
You nod toward the fish tank, where Gus is still swimming happily. Thank god. “Steven didn’t tell me his…brother…was coming to feed Gus,” you say. “I’ve been, um, watching him?”
He takes a step back, not meeting your eyes. “Right, he–he told me you’d be here.” A beat, and then, “Did you need something else?”
You can’t stop staring at him, how familiar yet alien the man standing in front of you is. You see glimpses of Steven, when he crosses his arms across his chest, but then he speaks, his voice gruff, flat, American, and the illusion is broken. He raises an eyebrow and you shake your head.
“Sorry, it’s just…Steven didn’t tell me he had a brother,” you say. “Not that–I mean, not that we’re super close, you know. I just moved in like, three–no, four months ago now, so we see each other around. Sometimes.”
You want to slap yourself for babbling–something about his intense stare, the way his dark eyes roam your face, makes you want to run and never come back. You feel rooted in place, waiting for him to pounce, and you don’t fully hate it.
His lips twitch. You want to see him smile, see if it’s the same crooked grin Steven usually sports. “Ok-ay, well, I’ll just go now,” you finally say when he doesn’t answer.
You spin around, eager to get as far away as possible when you hear him call out to you.
“Marc,” he says. “I’ll see you around.” The smile he gives you is small, more tightly controlled than Steven’s, but it still makes your heart race. Get it together.
You wave and practically sprint back to your apartment, slamming the door and leaning back against it. That could not have gone any worse. Your heart won’t stop pounding and you try to convince yourself it’s just from all the running, not the way you felt Marc’s eyes follow you out the door.
—-
You don’t see Marc–or Steven–for the next few days. You set alarms now, one before work and one at night, as a reminder to feed Gus. And if you make sure you look extra presentable when you get to Steven’s apartment, an extra coat of gloss and mascara thrown on, it’s definitely not because of Marc. 
Right. 
But each time you’re let down, the apartment as empty as you left it the time before, no sign of either Marc or Steven. You find yourself taking a few minutes every visit to straighten up some of the many books scattered around, pointedly avoiding the half-made bed in the middle of the room. 
One time you’d dropped the can of fish food and it had rolled over to the bed, getting caught in the pile of–what is that, sand?–scattered around the edges. You’d huffed, crouching down to get it, only to come face to face with a long ankle restraint tied to one leg of the bed. Your face heated, even though no one was there to see you. 
You tried not to think of Steven using it on someone—poor, sweet Steven, who you’ve known for three months now and will barely make eye contact with you. No, this seemed like something more up Marc’s alley, and you can’t help imagine his rough hands tightening the restraints across your ankles, holding your legs spread open for him as he kissed and bit his way up to your–
No. This is so wrong.
But it wasn’t wrong enough to stop the heat pooling in your stomach, the damp spot on your panties you tried to ignore. And if you touched yourself later that night, made yourself come imagining big hands and a harsh voice in your ear, well. That’s no one’s business.
Another three days pass, and you’re starting to get worried. There’s still no sign of Steven, and you don’t think he’s ever been gone this long–what is he even doing? It’s not like this is a work trip, right? Do museum gift shop workers even get leave from work? There’s mail beginning to pile up outside his door, and when you deposit the stack on the kitchen counter during your next visit a small envelope catches your attention.
Marc Spector is written on the front. There’s no return address. Weird–you’d just assumed he and Steven would have the same last name. You quickly place the envelope back with the rest of the mail. It’s not your business, you scold yourself. But that doesn’t stop you from googling Marc Spector when you get home and–nothing. Not even the usual abandoned Facebook page, the years-old photo tag from some distant relatives. A search of Steven Grant brings you to the wiki page for some Indiana Jones-style 80s movie. Another dead end, of course.
You consider calling the police, reporting Steven (and Marc) missing, but what could you even say? Hey, my neighbor and his mysterious secret twin brother are missing, no I don’t know where they could be, I’m just here to feed his fish, I don’t even have either of their phone numbers. It sounds crazy just thinking about it. Jesus. You toss and turn that night, finally telling yourself that if you don’t hear from Steven by the morning, you’ll go back to his apartment and look for a number for someone to call for help. You slip into a restless sleep soon after, images of Steven’s big puppy eyes and Marc’s scowling face flashing through your mind.
Bang. 
Something scrapes across the floor and then you hear a muffled curse. Your eyes spring open, heart practically beating its way out of your chest as you try to orient yourself in the dark room. You fumble for your phone on the nightstand–dead, because of course you forgot to plug it in last night. A loud crash from the kitchen has you shooting up out of bed, grabbing for the only weapon-like thing available. You grip a high heel in your hand, ready to stab whoever decided to make the mistake of breaking into your apartment and interrupting your sleep.
There in the low light, sitting at your kitchen table, is–fuck, it’s Steven. He doesn’t look good, sweaty and dirty and tired. He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy trying to reach over his shoulder for something. His shirt is on the floor, shredded, along with the bottle of vodka you keep in the freezer for “emergencies.” What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” you echo and he finally looks up at you. You drop the shoe and kick it to the side. “Steven, are you–what happened?”
“Not Steven,” he grunts, and oh the sound of his gruff voice should not be turning you on right now. 
“Marc,” you breathe. His dark eyes snap to yours, hand paused awkwardly over his shoulder. You can’t even be too mad at him for breaking in here in the middle of the night, not when he’s looking at you like that, all broody eyes and pouty lips. Fuck, he’s pretty.
“Can you–” he gestures impatiently to his shoulder. You walk over in a trance, trying not to feel self-conscious in your sleep shorts and tank top, coming to a hesitant stop behind him. There’s a gash running across his shoulder blade and you gasp. A trickle of blood rolls down his back.
You flutter your hand around the makeshift rag he has pressed there. You can’t stop staring at his back, the shift of muscles as he tries to hold his other hand in place to stop the bleeding. He’s so broad and warm, heat radiating off of him into the chilly air around you. You make a noise in your throat and he huffs.
“Oh fuck, what–what is this?” you ask. Stupid question. You press down on the rag–is that one of your shirts? that fucker–and he groans, shifting in the chair.
“Just–can you just help,” Marc rasps. He twists around to meet your eyes, careful not to jostle your hand on his shoulder. “Please.”
Yeah, you’re fucked. It shouldn’t be this attractive, listening to him beg for your help, twisting in your kitchen chair in the middle of the night. You can’t help but think of other places you want to hear him beg and a flush creeps up your face.
“Okay, yeah,” you finally say. Clear your throat and think of the bare bones first aid kit underneath your bathroom sink. “But maybe you should just go to the hospital–”
“No!” His voice booms through the room and you freeze. “No, it’s–it’s not that bad, please.” His voice is soft, pleading. “Just a scratch, promise.”
A scratch? But he looks so confident–“okay,” you whisper against your better judgment. “Stay here, let me get my, uh, kit.”
His shoulders slump in relief. “Didn’t have anywhere else to go or I would’ve. I didn’t want to bother you but, Steven–” He pauses. “Steven clearly trusts you, so I figured…you’re my best option here.”
His words send butterflies through your stomach. You tear your eyes away from his clenched jaw, mumble something again about getting the kit. You’re relieved to find everything you need tucked away, praying it’s not as bad as it looks. You couldn’t sew to save your life, but for Marc you’d try. And if it’s really bad, well tough shit—you’d find some way to drag him to the hospital. 
He’s drinking from the bottle of vodka when you come back, head tilted back as he swallows deeply. A drop escapes from the corner of his mouth and you track it down his neck until it disappears beneath his tank top. You clear your throat and he turns to look at you, hissing when the movement pulls his wound open.
“Stop moving,” you scold, ripping the bottle from his hand and placing it on the table next to you. 
You’ve seen enough survival movies to know that disinfecting the wound is the basic first step, but really, what the hell can you do after that? You don’t have any medical experience, can barely handle your own papercuts–let alone a huge open wound on someone else. You take a shaky breath, feeling slightly hysterical; here’s this man you barely know practically bleeding out in your kitchen in the middle of the night, waiting for your help, instead of going to the hospital like a normal person. Plenty of time to freak out later, once Marc is gone, you remind yourself.
He’s silent in the chair, shoulders tense. His tank top flaps open where his skin is split–oh Marc, what have you gotten yourself into? 
“I’m gonna,” you clear your throat. “Can you, um, take your shirt off? I can’t see.”
“Sure, doc,” he grumbles. You roll your eyes at the jab–you are technically a doctor, of philosophy though, not medicine, but you’re not sure if he knows that. You help him lift the shirt from his back, making sure it doesn’t catch on the edges of the cut. Thankfully he’s right, it’s not as bad as it looks. It’s shallow enough that you’re pretty sure you can get away with just cleaning it up and covering it with gauze, no sewing necessary.
“This is gonna hurt,” you warn. He grits his teeth and nods, turning his head away to stare out into the living room. 
You grab a clean piece of gauze, douse it in vodka–no rubbing alcohol in the first aid kit, but this’ll be better than nothing. Your other hand runs down the non-injured side of his back, hoping to soothe him a little. Instead he tenses up even more, spits out get on with it. So you do, pressing the vodka-soaked gauze right onto the cut, ignoring his groan of pain. Wipe away the smears of blood left behind–thank god it wasn’t still actively bleeding, just needed to be cleaned and wrapped up. 
He hisses when you dab the edges of the cut, reaching his hand out behind him. You pass him the bottle silently, trying to ignore the pull of his throat, the way his thick fingers grip the bottle. Steven would never drink with you, no matter how many times you’d offered. Marc doesn’t even flinch at the sting of vodka, and you wonder idly if this was some parent trap twin situation–they really couldn’t be more different.
You pull the bottle out of his hands, placing your lips where his just were, ignoring the bite of the still-cold vodka. The alcohol rushes through you, warming your veins and settling low in your stomach. 
“Should you be drinking on the job?” He sounds amused. You scoff.
“Not even my job,” you mumble. Press a little too hard on the edge of his cut with the gauze accidentally-on-purpose, just to hear him bite back a whimper and pull away from you. You grab his shoulders and manhandle him back into the seat. “Hold still, ’m almost done.”
It’s silent besides the sound of you cutting the medical tape and Marc’s labored breathing. There’s so many questions brewing in your mind, but you bite your tongue and keep working, not wanting to upset him again. You press one last piece of tape to his back, hoping your patch job will last until–if–he finally decides to go to the doctor.
“All done,” you finally say, tapping his non-injured shoulder. Marc grunts and twists around to try to see what you’ve done. 
You shove him back into the chair. “Don’t, you’ll undo all my hard work.”
“Thanks, doc,” he mumbles. Then he sits up straight like he’s going to get up and leave, without any sort of explanation for what the hell is going on. A flash of anger rises in you and you try to bite it back.
“Why?” you ask. He stops lacing his boots and stares at you. His eyes are just a little darker than Steven’s, you notice, a little sharper–more wolf than puppy. You shake the thought away.
“You gonna tell me what happened? Where Steven is?” You throw your hands up in frustration, letting them land on your bare thighs with a smack. His eyes drop to your legs and back to your face so quickly you almost miss it.
Marc runs a hand through his hair, disrupting his neatly gelled curls even more. “Steven is…away.”
“Away,” you repeat. He nods quickly, inching towards the door like he wants to make a run for it. 
“But you know when he’ll be back.” It’s not a question.
He pauses, brows scrunched. A scowl pulls at his lips. “Yeah, I do.” 
He makes another move to the door and your anger rises again–how dare he come into your house, uninvited, in the middle of the night, to demand your help, and give you vague non-answers to what you think should be pretty simple questions. You move quickly to stand in front of the door, stopping him with a hand to his chest. His heart beats quickly beneath your palm. 
“I don’t get to know that? I’ve been here, waiting, taking care of poor Gus for what, almost two weeks now? I should’ve never said yes, should’ve never got–”
His lips, warm and firm against yours, stop your train of thought. Your eyes fly open in shock, mouth frozen, before he runs his tongue over the seam of your lips and you melt into his embrace. Stupid traitor body. 
You twirl your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and yank and he groans, pulling you even closer as his chapped lips meet yours again. You can feel him harden against your thigh and that snaps you out of it. You pull back, ignoring the question on his face, and slap him. Hard. 
The only sound in the room is both of your heavy breathing, and then:
“What the fuck?” He looks confused, bringing a hand up to touch his cheek. “What–”
“Doesn’t feel good, does it,” you say bitterly. “Being lied to. Not getting a straight answer.” You can’t look at his stupid, kissable face right now. You don’t even know him really, this stranger with your cute neighbor’s face. How stupid of you to even get involved.
“Oh honey, I–you don’t,” he takes a deep breath and grabs your limp hand. “Look at me, please? I’d tell you if I could, promise, I don’t–don’t want you to get hurt, understand?”
Your mind whirls, trying to process the kiss and his words and the kiss. He smells so good somehow, despite everything, a little sweaty and a little smoky. You exhale shakily and he steps closer, nudging your chin up to look at him. His brow furrows as he searches your face. When he swipes his thumb across your cheekbone your pulse leaps. 
“Are you…in danger? Did you bring who-whoever did that to you back here?” You should be angry at him but you’re just bone-tired, now that the adrenaline is fading. 
“No, no, of course not,” he says. He notices your hesitation and adds, “But I could…stay with you tonight, if you want? Just to, you know, make sure. Least I can do.” 
His eyes are huge, pleading–even if you wanted to say no, you know you couldn’t.
“Fine,” you say, like you’re doing him a favor. You point to the mess of bloody gauze and assorted clothing strewn across the kitchen. “But you’re cleaning this up tomorrow.”
“Yeah yeah, don’t worry about it.” His face is soft in the early morning lighting, a little sleepy. A little more like Steven. You want to run your hands through his hair again, mess it up even more. 
Marc is a silent shadow as you lead him to your bedroom, kicking a random shirt under the bed as you go. You sink down to the mattress with a groan and he watches with sharp eyes from the doorway. 
You want to be mean, tell him since this is his mess he’s gotten you into, he can stand there all night for all you care. But then you notice how dark the circles under his eyes are, the way he sways in place, leaning heavily on the door frame–when’s the last time he had a good night’s sleep? you wonder–and a pang of guilt hits you. 
Heart pounding, you pull the blanket up beside you, scooting to one side to make room for him behind you. When he doesn’t move you pat the empty space, gesturing for him to get over here.
He hesitates, until you snap get in already, before i change my mind, and he finally lowers himself down next to you with a grunt, careful to avoid pulling his bad shoulder. It’s quiet, the occasional sounds of the city outside filtering through the open window. You close your eyes and try to relax, try to ignore the fact that Marc is here in your bed. With you. He fidgets, fingers brushing the side of your bare thigh and you freeze. 
Just when you think he’s finally asleep, his voice breaks the silence with a low whisper. “Thanks, doc. Really.”
“Of course.” Your voice is just as hushed as his. You reach out in the dark for his hand, brushing his pinky with yours. He links his finger with yours and that’s how you finally fall asleep, Marc’s warm body next to yours and a small smile on your face.
—-
He’s gone the next morning of course–it’s almost noon when you finally drag yourself out of bed, the spot next to you cold and vacant. The kitchen is spotless, no sign of any of last night’s struggle, and a box of donuts from your favorite cafe sits on the table. A note is shoved under the box in what you recognize as Marc’s messy scrawl: Steven told me these are your favorite. Thank you.
It shouldn’t make your stomach swoop, this little act of kindness, but it does. You think about Marc while you get ready to go out, staring at your messy sheets where you can imagine the imprint of his body lingers. You think about him during dinner with your friends, when you see a man with dark curly hair at the table behind you kissing his date. You think of the long line of Marc’s throat when you take shot after shot at the bar, pretending the heat in your stomach is just from the alcohol. You think of him when you crawl into bed afterwards, a little tipsy, and imagine you can still smell him on your pillow. You fall asleep too quickly, with your hand down your pants and his name on your lips.
You wake up the next morning to a (thankfully) manageable hangover and a text from an unknown local number:
Be back soon! Thank you again for watching Gus! xx 
The reminder of Gus makes you groan; if it was anyone else, you would’ve given up by now, pawned the fish off to someone else to worry about, but then you think of Steven’s happy little smile for you (if he ever comes back) and later that night you trudge your way up to his apartment.
The bottom lock sticks, again, but this time there’s no shirtless Marc there to catch you on the other side–you stumble in and kick the door shut angrily behind you. And then you notice someone in Steven’s bed. 
He’s kicked the covers off, a thin sheet crumpled around his bare waist and a hand resting just above the waistband of his briefs. The ankle strap is tied tightly around his leg and you feel your cheeks heat up. Stop being a perv and just leave, jesus–you’re just turning to quietly slink back to your apartment when you hear it: he murmurs your name, brow furrowed even in sleep.
You stop, thinking you’ve been caught creeping. “Steven?” you whisper. “Marc?”
He turns, thrashing around with a low whimper. The sheet drags even lower and you avert your eyes. You should leave for real, he’s definitely not awake, and you don’t even want to think about trying to explain yourself when he wakes up and sees you just standing there looking at him.
And then you step on a creaky spot on the floor and he bolts upright. He’s sweating, bare chest glinting in the low light as he looks around, wild eyes finally landing on you hovering in the doorway. 
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” you joke. A scowl pulls his features–okay, definitely Marc. 
“How–but you…” he trails off. He looks around, disoriented, and then he drags his gaze back to you sharply. “Did you see Steven at all?”
“N-no,” you stammer. “He’s okay though, right?”
“He’s fine,” Marc promises. “Should be back, uh, soon?”
“Yeah, that’s what he said last week,” you mutter. He just looks at you helplessly, and you take that as your cue to leave.
“As fun as this has been,” you say, “I’m gonna…go. I’ll leave the keys, since you’re here. Tell Steven I said hey, whenever you see him.” You run your fingers along the fluffy bear on Steven’s keychain one last time before turning towards the door. 
Then, in a voice so low you almost miss it, Marc says, “Wait, please. You can–you can stay, if you want.”
“Stay and…?” you trail off. “What, to watch you sleep?” He looks at you again, eyes so wide and pleading and so much like Steven it makes your heart break. “You’re serious.”
“I, um.” he rubs a hand across his jaw, scratching the thick stubble. “Had a nightmare. It’s usually better when there’s someone here, with me.”
You feel a spark of jealousy at his words, imagining the revolving door of different girls he’s probably gotten into his bed with that cheesy line, how many he’d sweet-talked into giving it up for him. Girls like the brooding angsty thing, right? But then you look at him a little longer, see the sheen of sweat sticking his curls to the side of his head. The perpetual dark shadows under his eyes. The way he’d called your name in his sleep. So you agree.
It’s dark, the light of the moon outside guiding you towards the bed. He’s laying on his back watching you with an arm behind his head, the picture of relaxation, and you can’t help the pulse of desire you feel. Stop it, stop it, stop it. You stand awkwardly at the edge of the bed, unsure how much or how little you should keep on. What’s the protocol for sleeping in bed with a guy you barely know for the second time?
Marc solves the dilemma for you–he reaches for a shirt on the side of the bed, passes it to you without a word. You recognize it as one of Steven’s museum shirts, the Really Makes You Sphinx one with the faded cartoon sphinx in the middle. Your fingers brush his as you reach for it and you shudder, quickly pulling the t-shirt over your head, shucking your pants and socks off as you do, and climb in next to him. 
His fingers brush your bare thigh as he turns to look at you. You shift and he just looks at you, dark eyes watching your every move like a hawk. That feeling of danger is back, every instinct telling you to get out of there, now, but this time instead of running away from it, you want to run to him. You want to let him ruin you. 
“Alright?” he murmurs softly and you nod. 
“How’s your shoulder?” you finally ask. He turns to let you see it, the barely-healed scar that he’d sloppily taped over. You run your fingers around the edges of the tape, then down his spine, notch by notch, and he shivers.
“All good thanks to you, doc,” he says. You hum and he turns to look at you, tracing the knuckles of your hand mindlessly. 
“Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare?” you blurt out.
His face hardens and he pulls his hand back to pick at a loose thread in the sheets. You miss the warmth immediately. “Not particularly,” he says after a moment, and you don’t push it.
“Yeah, okay,” you whisper. “Let’s just–here, lay down.”
You stretch your arms above your head, listening to the crack of your joints–you really hadn’t slept well last night, between the drinking and thinking about Marc…you’d been sloppy, too uncoordinated to get the angle of your fingers right and you’d fallen asleep even more frustrated. It all comes rushing back now, seeing him in person, rumpled and sleepy and dangerous but–vulnerable. It’s intoxicating and you shift to rub your thighs together, hoping for even a little bit of friction.
If Marc notices, he doesn’t say anything. Maybe you’re only imagining his heated gaze on your bare skin, the way your shirt–Steven’s shirt–lifts as you stretch. And maybe you can blame the sudden perking of your nipples on the chilly room, definitely nothing to do with Marc. Nope.
He leans back with a grunt, waving off your concern when you look at his injured shoulder. You hesitate, just for a second, but then your desire to sleep–just sleep–with him wins out. He watches you crawl over with half-lidded eyes, dragging a hand around your waist to pull you in even closer. He settles over you with a sigh, one arm right under your breasts, so close you can feel the steady thumping of his heart against your back. His breath is warm against the back of your neck, and when he whispers you okay? in your ear you nod and hope he can’t see the goosebumps there.
At first you’re stiff, not used to being this close to someone, and then his breathing evens out and he–he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, barely a brush of lips but it sets you on fire. You feel his lips pull into a smile against your neck as you fidget in his grasp.
“Go to sleep,” he groans. “’M tired, know you are too.”
You whine, pushing yourself back into him, hoping to change his mind, to get him to do something, but he just kisses your neck again, says nope, goodnight, and that’s that. You try to ignore the throbbing of your clit, the way your panties are sticking uncomfortably to your body and focus on the deep pulls of his breath behind you. Eventually you settle, lulled to sleep by Marc’s warm body behind you, holding on to you so tightly like he’s scared that’ll you’ll disappear when he wakes up.
—-
You were cold when you left your apartment, but you’re suddenly warm, almost uncomfortably so. Light streams through the curtains and you crack an eye open. There’s not much noise outside yet–it must still be early. You just settle back down into the bed, and then you hear a light snore behind you and remember where you are.
Your eyes fly open. Steven’s apartment. With Marc.
He’s even a cute sleeper, mouth open slightly as he snores. His brow is still slightly furrowed, even in his sleep–jesus, does he ever relax? His usual slicked-back curls are all over the place, fluffy and mussed from moving around. If you squint, he looks just like Steven. You resist the urge to smooth a piece of hair back from his face, laying back down and staring at a small crack in the ceiling. 
Marc makes a noise and you think you’ve woken him up but he’s still sleeping, arms reaching out for you. You scoot closer and he yanks you back against him, throws a leg over yours to hold you there (as if you’d even want to leave) and that’s how you fall back asleep, cuddled up to Marc as the early morning sunlight streaks in through the window.
The next time you wake up, it’s to Marc’s hard cock pressing against your back.
It takes you a moment to process what’s happening. Steven’s apartment. Steven’s bed. Marc. Nightmare. Cuddling. And–
The desire from last night comes flooding back in a rush–you wiggle back just a little, just to see what’ll happen. You can feel the wet spot on the front of his boxers as it drags along your exposed skin. You’re so warm, bursting into flames just at this simple contact.
Marc grunts, shifts again so his arm is around your chest, fingers grazing your nipple. You whimper at the light contact and roll your hips back again, intentionally. He’s so hard and firm and you try to shift to get the angle just right when you feel his breathing change. He’s awake now.
“Marc,” you whimper, and he noses along the back of your neck, tweaking your nipple.
“G’morning to you, too,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He grips your hips tightly and rolls his hips, letting you feel how hard he is. Even through your layers of clothes, he feels big.
“Please, Marc,” you whine, reaching back to grab at his hair, and he groans, flipping you over so he can settle on top of you. His hips are perfectly aligned for you to grind up into him, the friction so good but still not enough.
“Driving me fuckin’ crazy, the way you keep saying my name,” he huffs. “First time I saw you, had to stop what I was doing and just fuck my own hand–feel what you do to me, huh baby?”
You’re burning up, at his words, at how close he is, trying to get your shirt off without moving him out of place. He grins, wolfish, and swats your hands away, rolling it up and off your body. His eyes are everywhere on your newly exposed skin, leaning down to mouth at the side of your breast, pressing light kisses as he goes. He bites down lightly and you moan. 
His eyes are molten, so dark as he watches your reactions. The way you arch up into his mouth when he sucks a nipple. How your fingers twist in his hair and yank him up to your mouth. He kisses you like he’s on a mission, like he knows exactly what he wants from you. It’s hot, the way he takes control. 
“Can I put my mouth on you, please, can I? Been dreaming about getting my mouth on you, on this sweet little pussy. Tell me what you want, baby, please.”
“Yeah, okay,” you croak. As if you’d say no to him. Marc grins, a huge smile that you can feel as he presses one last kiss to your neck before settling down at the foot of the bed. His broad shoulders push your legs open even more and for a moment he just runs his hand up your inner thigh, letting his warm breath fan over you until you’re squirming in his grip.
You reach down and tug his hair when he tries to muffle his whimper in your leg. “Stop teasing.”
And he listens, finally, pausing only to roll your soaked panties down and throw them into the corner of the room. You have a brief moment of panic when you think about Steven finding them later, and then every thought flies out of your head when he leans down and licks a wide stripe from your dripping hole up to your clit. A low moan tears from your throat.
He hums against you when you rake your hands through his hair and pull a little harder this time. He groans, sucking your clit lightly between his lips and you practically leap off the bed. One of his hands comes to hold you down, spreading across your hip and pressing you further into the bed. You can’t escape it, can’t escape him–the rough scrape of his stubble, the steady pressure around your clit, the way he gently presses a finger into you at the same time and rubs at the spongy spot there.
The hand not holding you down is under him, working his boxers off and fisting his cock–he’s flushed, practically dripping and he pulls back to swipe two fingers through your slick and use it to lube himself up. It’s so dirty and hot that you can’t help but grab him, pulling him up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips.
“See,” Marc says, smug. “Knew you would taste good. Even better’n I dreamed about.”
You blush and grab at his arms, trying to get him to move, to let you get on top. It’s like trying to move a solid wall, he’s so broad, and he laughs as you struggle. He tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth as he flops back. Marc reaches up to pull you closer and you don’t miss the wince he tries to hide when his shoulder lifts. 
You stop moving immediately and he whines. Loudly.
“Thought you said your shoulder was better,” you say faux-seriously. Roll your hips on him slowly, letting his cock settle in between your bare lips. He grips your hips in his sweaty hands.
“It’s fine, you can fix it again after–please, I need you,” he groans. His eyes never leave your cunt, watching as you drag your slick over him again and again. You lift your hips, hovering over him, and he grits his teeth at the loss of contact.
His grip on your hips tightens, trying to pull you back down, but you sit up out of his reach. He thrusts up into you, leaving a smear of precum on the inside of your thigh that glistens in the morning light.
He looks wrecked, flush running down his cheeks to his chest. He can’t sit still, running his hands over your bare skin, pleading with you to do something, please, c’mon. Finally you take mercy on him, gripping the base of his dick and lining it up to where you’re practically dripping. You sink down slowly, feeling the stretch, the way his thighs tense with the effort of holding back.
He bites back a groan and you can’t help but let out a small whimper. He’s so warm and solid and thick inside you–you clench down, just to feel his cock pulse inside you, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass.
“Oh god, please,” he begs. “This’ll be over–fuck–over too quick if you keep doing that.”
“Shit, Marc,” you groan when he shifts his hips, angling the wide head of his cock to catch perfectly on that spongy spot inside you. You roll your hips over him again and again, leaning forward to kiss him. The angle catches your clit just right and you cry out.
“Gonna come on my cock, baby? Go ahead, please, ruin me for anyone else. Never even wanna look at anyone else, yeah, just you. Fuck, you’re–you’re so good to me, feels so good,” he babbles.
Marc shoves his hips up once, twice, reaching down to roll your swollen clit between his fingers. The pressure is so good, exactly what you need and you come with a cry of his name, suddenly. 
When you open your eyes again he’s already watching you, a tiny smile on his face that quickly shifts into a look of need when you clench down on him again. You can feel him twitch inside you when you cup your breast in your hand, swirling a finger around your nipple. He groans.
“Please, baby, where do you want it? I can’t–please don’t stop.” He’s staring at the slick leaking out of you onto his dick, the squelch when you lift yourself up and down so loud in the room, a harsh fuck tumbling out of his lips.
“Come in me,” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan, muscles locking as he holds you down on his pulsing cock, letting you feel the surge of warm come deep inside you. You can feel it leak out when you lift yourself with a groan and flop back on the bed.
It’s quiet for a moment as you both catch your breath. He rolls over to face you, cupping your jaw in his hand, kissing you slowly. You melt into his arms, letting his steady breathing lull you back to sleep, and then your eyes fly open and you pull back.
“Maybe don’t, um, tell Steven I was here?” 
He gives you a crooked grin, eyes crinkling. “Don’t worry, honey–’m good at keeping secrets.”
masterlist here
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Text
cherry
i noticed that there’s a piece of you in how i dress
pairing: james potter x reader
warnings: cursing
wc: 1.2k
a/n: i’m back!! also please note that i am not crazy and that i do know my characters! the theodore nott mentioned here is theodore nott sr.!! not theodore nott jr. (the “slytherin boys” theo)
absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that.
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It was a gorgeous, late, fall morning - one where you surprisingly did not have class. You were lounging in the common room by the fireplace with a novel when someone stormed through the portrait hole.
In came an enraged James Potter dressed in his practice uniform cursing under his breath.
You were quite close with James, just not as close as you’d like to be.
“James, what happened?”
He glares at you, “What happened? Oh, I’ll tell you what happened.”
He storms off to the dorms without telling you anything. You close your book and quickly follow him.
Once in his dorm you sit on his bed and watch as he starts throwing his quidditch gear everywhere.
“Alright, would you like to calm down and tell me what happened?” You ask him as if he’s a small child who had just gotten himself into trouble.
“No.”
He starts to undress and change when he finally talks to you, “We have the most important match against Slytherin tonight and my fucking teams not ready,”
He pulls off his shirt and interlocks his hands behind his head, you can’t help but to stare and drool a little.
“I need to win this match you don’t understand!”
“James, why?”
“Because I hate their fucking captain.”
Ahh. Theodore Nott. James has had it out for Theo ever since 1st year when Theo knocked James off his broom during a match, causing Gryffindor to lose.
“Okay,”
“I have to win and my fucking team won’t fucking listen to me,” you’ve never heard James curse this much. He’s pissed, “I just don’t have time to reteach 6 fucking players the basics of quidditch.”
Sirius timidly opens the door and sees you on the bed and James yelling at you, well more yelling in your general direction, but Sirius didn’t know that.
“Looks like you lot are busy, um, I’m gonna.. go,” Sirius was on the team, contributing to the problem. James rushes over to the door and slams it in his face.
“Don’t come back until you learn to fucking fly.”
“Don’t you think you were a little harsh?”
“No.”
He stalks over to his wardrobe and pulls out 6 quidditch uniforms, tossing them on the bed next to you.
He always wears the match jersey the day of and has a spare of the three uniforms that the team rotates out.
He pulls his favorite red jersey over his head, “Merlin, if the team could even get the uniforms right I’d be fucking shocked,”
“James you need to take a walk, clearly,”
He looks at you and his eyes soften, “Alright, only if you come with me, I can’t trust myself to see anyone from my team alone right now.”
You smile and nod, following him out of the dorms, noting that he left the door ajar.
It takes 3 laps around campus and about a thousand rants to get him to calm down, but you finally manage to do it. Once you make it back to Gryffindor tower the two of you part and he goes to the quidditch pitch (once again) and you stay in the common room.
You look around for the book you began to read this morning but don’t see it anywhere, you try to retrace your steps when it hits you. You’ve left it in James’s dorm room.
He wouldn’t mind you going in there, right? To be fair, it is your book.
You climb the boy dormitory stairs and enter the empty room. Walking over to James’s bed, you look near his night stand and on the bed when you finally see the hard cover of your book peeking out from under a piece of red fabric.
You lift the spare jersey and pick up your book. You set the jersey back down and turn to leave, then an idea hits you.
If you wore his spare jersey tonight, would that be over stepping? No? You two are friends and he does need a little more encouragement tonight, so why not?
You fold the rest of the jerseys up and put them away, taking the spare of the one he has on, back to your dorm.
The rest of the day is spent lounging and snacking. Until an hour before the game, you were sprawled out on your bed with your second book.
Mary walks into your shared dorm and smiles, “Get up! It’s time for the match!”
You turn to look at her and stretch, “I’m coming!” You say through a yawn.
“Good! Lily, Remus, and Peter are already down there, and pray for Marlene and Sirius, I’ve heard James had been an arse today,”
You smile, “Tell me about it,”
“We’ll save you a seat but you better hurry,”Mary giggles and leaves you alone once again.
You layer your clothes for the chilly weather, slipping James’s jersey over your outfit. You all but sprint down to the quidditch pitch to meet your friends.
You find your seat and sit, right in the front row with James’s jersey on full display for everyone to see. You collected quite an amount of wide-eyed stares from the other students.
Why wouldn’t you? Wearing the most sought out guy at Hogwarts’ jersey.
Just moments after you sat, the players started to emerge from their respective preparation rooms.
The game began and James flew right past you, almost flying into the stands.
Were you trying to make him lose? How could you wear his jersey and expect him to focus on the game?
An extravagantly quick-moving bludger snapped him out of his trance of admiration. He had to win this game, especially now since you have his jersey on.
He scored point after point on Slytherin, hardly giving them a minute to catch their breaths. The game ended when his seeker caught the snitch, and James could not get off the pitch faster than he did.
You came down from the stands and waited for him at the entrance of his team’s tent. Though he had just beaten Slytherin, something he’s been talking about for weeks, the thing he was most excited about was you.
He met you outside the tent and smiled as he walked up, “Did you join the team?”
You looked away from him bashfully, there was now barely any room between you two.
He lifted your chin with his finger to look at him. You smiled up and he smiled back, “Merlin, you look gorgeous in my uniform. I could get used to this,”
You grabbed the collar of his jersey and pulled him down to your lips. He pulled away and his smile grew larger, “Merlin, I could get used to that as well!”
He rested his hand on your cheek and pulled you in for another kiss - the kiss turning into a near make-out in front of the player’s tent.
Once you managed to break away, he rested his forehead against yours before giving you a feathered kiss on the top of your head.
He slung an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back towards the castle, “Come on, I want to show everyone how good you look in my clothes.”
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savannahsdeath · 4 months
Note
Is there a chance you can toxic Ellie x reader. Where Reader was leaving Ellie for good and she never came back.
just a drabble since im still really busy but i had to write it because we all deserve something better than toxic!ellie!! i know i know we love ellie just, please, not the toxic one🩷
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: ̗̀➛ the scene was going on for hours. you kept packing your things, she kept taking them and placing back on the shelves. your shirt had wet stains in places where your tears dropped and soaked into it.
"you're so dramatic." she smirked, taking a step forwards.
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: ̗̀➛ you shook your head and wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand. "no, i am not. i won't let you ruin me. not anymore."
"who told you i ruin you?" her amused smile faded as she put her arms on her hips. "can't you see that this person, whoever it was, is manipulating you? they know you're nothing without me so they're trying to separate us. they're praying on your downfall and you? you're just helping them."
"why would my own best friend do something like that? no, ellie, you're just— insane, crazy, a fucking psycho, whatever!" you zipped up your backpack and picked it up.
: ̗̀➛ she watched as you carefully walked over the stairs. "you haven't even packed like... half of your things."
"oh well!" you sarcastically laughed. "you'll have a souvenir."
"so you don't plan on coming back for them?" she frowned, finally realising that, this time, you're serious.
: ̗̀➛ you didn't answer, putting your jacket on. she walked over to you and tried to kiss you, but you dodged her with a hiss.
"come on, babe" she sighed. "y'know how i can make it up to you..."
"just leave me alone" you begged and took a few steps backwards, until your back hit the door.
"don't make a scene" she bit her lip as she watched you make your way through the doorstep. "come back inside and we'll figure something out."
: ̗̀➛ you shook your head and finally turned around.
"okay" she nodded. "have a day off. but i'll find you. you know i will."
: ̗̀➛ you chuckled through your tears. "good luck"
⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
: ̗̀➛ two days later you were in a train to a different state. this decision was spontaneous and you could as well end up being homeless but you were sure you'll survive, somehow. your friend - luccy called you, waking you up from a nap.
"she paid me a visit, to put it politely."
"god" you fully sat up and straightened up, immediately waking up. "how bad was it?"
"i expected worse" luccy chuckled. "it was kinda hilarious, actually. i didn't want to let her in but she, of course, made her way inside anyway. she quickly realised it's too late."
"but she didn't..." you paused, thinking of all the possibilities. your girlfriend, now ex, was capable of a lot of crazy things. "...uh— hurt you or anything?"
"oh, she was mad" luccy laughed again. "but no, she didn't do anything. i'd say we're safe, for now."
: ̗̀➛ you hummed. your plan wasn't too brilliant, but you did everything you could to not leave any clues. she won't find you, you knew she won't. and eventually, she'll completely give up and stop trying. maybe she'll even move on and find someone else? maybe even a healthy relationship?
let's hope so.
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waitimcomingtoo · 4 months
Text
SLUT!
chapter seven: if he drops my name, then he had it coming
series masterlist
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Peter sat in the library the next day at a table by himself. He was studying for chemistry by himself and couldn’t help but to look up at the empty seat beside him every so often. The very seat you used to occupy. Peter was missing you more than usual today now that Gwen had gotten into his head. He just wanted to know what happened that night at the party since he no longer believed what he saw was the full story.
“Hey, are you using this seat?” Some guys asked as he put his hands on the seat you usually sat in.
“No, you can….” Peter trailed off when he looked up. The guy asking for the chair was wearing the same hockey jersey as the guy Peter caught you in bed with. The guy realized he recognized Peter as well and smiled.
“Oh, hey. It’s you. You’re that nerd Y/n was sleeping with right? That flipped out at the party?”
“I was her boyfriend.” Peter corrected. “Until you came along, anyway.”
“Shit. You guys were actually dating? My bad. I thought you were just another one of her hook ups. I’m Shane, by the way.” Shane said and held out his hand. Peter reluctantly shook his hand and wished this guy would realize that he didn’t want to talk to the guy that broke up his relationship with
“Peter. And I wasn’t just a hookup. But you and I both know she isn’t like that anyway.” Peter mumbled and went back to his work.
“You’re right, you’re right. We’ve all been cracking these jokes about her for so long that I forget what’s real. How did you do it, anyway?”
“Do what?”
“How did you get her? Brads been trying for years. Why’d she go for you?” Shane wondered.
“Well it helped that I didn’t tell the whole school she was a slut. Or harass her for years. I was actually nice to her. After Brad made sure no one else ever was.” Peter snapped before remembering you had told him he was just like Brad. You were right, after all, since Peter called you a slut just like everybody else did.
“Yeah. Brads crazy like that. I mean, look at what he did at the party.” Shane said, pulling Peter out of his pity party. He put his pen down and looked up at him as panic stirred in his chest.
“What did he do at the party?”
“What do you mean? You were there. Remember the prank?”
“What prank?” Peter asked, starting to get angry over the vague answers.
“You’ll have to ask Brad for the whole story.” Shane waved his hand. “I drank too much and passed out while he was planning everything. Pink Whitney and chalupas do not mix, but the way. I didn’t wake up for 15 hours.”
“Wait, what? Did you…did you not sleep with Y/n?” Peter asked quietly.
“Sleep with her? Dude, I’ve never even met her.” He laughed. “Brad and his friends dragged me up the stairs after I passed out so that you would catch me in bed with her. He set her up so you guys would break up. You didn’t know that?”
“What?” Peter said so loudly that the librarian shushed him.
“Sorry dude. I figured she told you that by now.” Shane whispered and hid his face from the dirty look the librarian was giving him.
“Where is Brad right now?” Peter whispered harshly.
“Probably in the gym. There’s a home basketball game today. Why?”
Peter didn’t answer and grabbed his backpack before storming out of the library. He stomped all the way to the gym and threw the doors open. People turned and gasped as Peter marched into the middle of the gym.
“DAVIS!” Peter shouted angrily, making the sound of basketballs hitting the ground and sneakers screeching halt to a stop. Brad stopping dribbling and scoffed when he saw Peter.
“What do you want, dork?” He laughed as his teammates gathered around him.
“What happened at the party?” Peter demanded. Ned, who was watching the game in the bleachers, had a feeling he knew where this was going. He hopped off the bleacher and went up to the coach.
“Hey coach. I think this very civil and mature conversation might take a minute. Would you mind telling me about my chances of making the team next semester?” Ned asked the couch as he led him towards the gym doors.
“A guy like you? Have you thought about football?” The couch asked.
“Thats a really good point. Do you have any other points you’d like to make and explain in great detail right now?” Ned asked as he and the couch left the gym. Once there were no adults around, Brad didn’t hold back.
“Fuck off, Parker. We’re in the middle of a game.” Brad said and threw the ball towards the net. Peter caught the ball with one hand, getting a surprised murmur out of the guys.
“All right. Give me the ball.” Brad laughed in embarrassment and reached for the basketball. Peter moved it away at the last second, making Brad stumble forward. People in the crowd laughed as Brads team mates exchanged looks.
“Give me the ball, loser.” Brad repeated. “Don’t make me take it from you.”
“Can you take it from me?” Peter asked innocently. Brads jaw clenched and he lunged for the ball again but Peter quickly switched it to his other hand. The crowd laughed at Brad, only making him angrier. He tried to grab the ball a few more times but Peter was always quicker.
“Fine. What do you want?” Brad asked and tried his best to sound like he couldn’t care less.
“I want to know what happened at the party. What did you do to her?”
“Fuck you.” Brad scoffed. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Dude, just tell him so we can get back to the game.” Harry groaned. Brad gave him an angry look before returning his attention to Peter.
“Leave, Peter.” Brad demanded.
“No. Not until you tell me what happened.”
“I don’t have to tell you jack shit about what-“
“Brad asked her to come over to talk.” Harry interrupted. Peter looked at him in surprise and then looked at Brad for a further explanation.
“Shut the fuck up man.” Brad hissed.
“Why should I?” Harry asked. “I lost Gwen over this. Half the guys in the team got dumped because of your shit. I’m over it. Just tell the little nerd what you did so we can get back to the game.”
“What happened when she came over to talk?” Peter asked again. Brad looked at his teammates and then at the crowd before looking at the ground.
“I asked her to come over and implied that I was gonna apologize and make peace or whatever. She didn’t know there was a party going on. I knew she wouldn’t show up if she did.”
“Then what?” Peter demanded.
“Then we talked for a little bit and I offered her a ginger ale because I remembered it was her favorite soda from back when we were friends.” Brad said. He didn’t look up as he spoke but Peter could hear the faintest bit of regret in his voice.
“You should’ve seen her face when she realized I remembered, dude. She was so touched. She couldn’t believe I remembered something about her.” Brad laughed sadly as he finally looked up at Peter. There was remorse in his tone and all over his face but Peter could tell that he was trying to fight it. He didn’t want to feel bad for what he did because then he would have to admit it was wrong.
“What did you do?” Peter repeated. Brad looked at the crowd and shook his head.
“I’m not doing this here.” Brad shook his head. “I’m not saying shit.”
Peter threw the basketball at Brad and it hit him in the chest forcefully. Brad looked at Peter in shock and then angrily threw the ball back, which Peter caught.
“Why aren’t you talking, Brad? Did you do something you’re not proud of? Something you wouldn’t want all these people knowing about?” Peter asked as he started walking towards Brad.
“You better shut your mouth before I make you just as sorry as I made your little skank girlfriend.” Brad whispered for just Peter to hear.
“He slipped something in her drink.” Flash spoke up. Brad looked at Flash with betrayal and Flash just shrugged. When Peter heard this, the corner of his vision blackened. His blood felt hot in his veins. It took everything in him to not rip Brads head off right there but he needed to know more.
“I told you not to do it, man. I told you it was too far. But you insisted on getting her back. You couldn’t wait to do it that night so you might as well admit it now.” Flash said and held up his hands in defense. Everyone in the audience was staring at Brad with disgust now and he could feel each individual eye on him. He scanned the crowd and saw all their faces before looking at Peter.
At that moment, Peter snapped and lunged towards him. He grabbed a handful of Brads jersey and pulled him towards himself. Brad felt genuine fear in that moment and Peter could tell.
“You did what?” Peter asked through a clenched jaw. Brad gulped and looked back at his teammates. For the first time, they weren’t looking at him with the respect they usually had. Now, they looked embarrassed by him. Brad was the center of attention in the worst way and hated the way it made him feel.
“Relax, man.” Brad laughed nervously. “I didn’t touch her or anything. Nobody did. We’re not crazy. We were just joking. And I needed her knocked out so I could set her up.”
“Set her up how?” Peter asked and tightened his grip. Brad gulped again before putting on a look of false confidence.
“You two always call me stupid but what I did was actually really smart. I texted you from her phone and told you where she was so you could walk in and catch her “cheating”. You blew up on her like I knew you would and didn’t believe her when she tried to explain herself.”
Peter loosened his grip a little bit when he realized Brad was right. He’d become another one of the people on campus who hurt you by not believing you. When Brad realized he had gotten into Peter’s head, he grinned.
“But you know what I never expected? You calling her a slut. I didn’t think you had it in you, man. But you really delierved. She’s never gonna forgive you for that one. She probably hates you even more than she hates me.” Brad laughed obnoxiously. Peter felt his confidence in winning this argument slipping away the more he thought about what Brad was saying. If Peter had just heard you out, you’d still be together right now. There was no way you were going to forgive him now and he couldn’t even blame Brad for that part. What he could do, however, was get a little revenge for you.
“Did it hurt? When she rejected you all those years ago?” Peter asked Brad loud enough for the crowd to hear. Brads face reddened in embarrassment and he swallowed thickly.
“Yeah. Obviously.”
“Right. Obviously.” Peter mimicked. “Did it feel like this?”
Brad looked confused for a split second before Peter kicked him in the balls. Brads knees buckled and he crouched down, giving Peter the opportunity to punch him in the face. Brad fell to the floor and clutched his aching jaw.
“What the fuck? Are you kidding me right now?” Brad asked and tried to get up. Peter kicked him down and climbed on top of him before punching his face again.
“What are you doing?“ Brad shouted as blood ran from his nose.
“Tell everyone what you did!” Peter shouted back. “Tell them the truth about her.”
“Are you crazy? Let me go.” Brad said and struggled to get away from Peter, but Peter was too strong.
“Not until you admit it.” Peter demanded and punched him in the face again. Brads teammates just watched while the crowd pulled out their phones to record Peter beating the shit out of Brad. Peter was seeing red at this point and since no one was pulling him off of Brad, he just kept landing punches.
“ADMIT IT!” Peter shouted and gripped Brad by the shirt to lift his head off the ground.
“Fine! I lied about Y/n. I never slept with her. I made it up!” Brad cried as tears of fear ran down his face. He was finally feeling the fear you felt that day in the gym when Brad first gave you your reputation. It started in the gym and it was ending there.
“Why did you do it?” Peter growled.
“Because she rejected me and l wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me. So I made things up about her and called her names and my friends started it do it too. I do it because they do it and they do it because I do it and we’re all just a bunch of pigs. Is that what you wanted to hear? I call her a slut because cause I hate her and I hate her because I can’t have her. And I never stopped because no guy wanted anything to do with her so I never had to see her with anybody else. Until you. Are you happy now? Did you hear what you wanted to hear? I admit that I’m not a great guy. But you aren’t either. You’re just like me. We both suck and we both hurt ehr. So get off of me.” Brad said and pushed Peter off. Peter panted to catch his breath as he looked up at Brads teammates. He got off the ground and wiped his bloody knuckles on his shirt while staring them down.
“Anyone else have anything they’d like to confess?” Peter asked them. They exchanged looks with each other while Brad groaned in pain on the gym floor.
“I made it up. I never slept with her.” Flash admitted and then slapped one of his friends on the back of his head.
“I lied too.” The guy said. “I’ve never actually met her.”
In the most Mean Girls way possible, other guys on the team came forward one by one and admitted that they had lied about you. A few guys in the crowd did as well and earned themselves dirty looks from the girls around them. As Peter watched them admit the truth about you, he felt a weight lift off his chest. He knew he’d never be able to make things up to you but at least he got to watch you get your name back.
Unbeknownst to Peter, you were standing in the doorway of the gym and watching everything unfold. You had run to the gym when you heard there was a fight going on and were pleasantly surprised to see that Peter was the one doing the fighting. You watched the guys admit that they had lied about you and felt your “slut” label discard itself on the floor next to Brad Davis and his bloody nose. You knew that when you left the gym that day, you’d finally be able to leave your reputation behind. And that felt pretty great.
Two teachers and campus security burst past you suddenly and rushed to Peter. The security guard grabbed Peter by the arm and cuffed him before leading him towards the door you were standing beside.
“You’re so getting kicked out!” Brad called after him. Peter made eye contact with you as he was being escorted off campus and cracked a smile.
“It was worth it.” He said.
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271 notes · View notes
gtgbabie0 · 10 months
Note
Heyyy it’s me again hehe!
I was thinking clumsy reader that always dropping things, tripping over, spooking herself out etc etc. basically Leon goes into a fit of worry when he hears something drop or when she yelps - but she’s just clumsy. Totally 100% not referring to myself here; just so you know.
- Leon Kennedy x reader
Oh my! He would be so very caring!! 💕
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Leon absolutely loves you, his heart is wholly yours. But goodness did you give him heart attacks sometimes. You were clumsy and yet even that felt like an understatement, your clumsiness was something Leon didn’t think was even possible it was that bad, he often felt like he had to baby-proof the entire house.
It was late afternoon and Leon had gotten back from the agency. You were just cleaning up the small stuff around the kitchen whilst he showered and without even noticing your arm must’ve knocked the dish strainer because the next thing you know the whole thing comes crashing down onto the floor, plates, bowls and cutlery all spread out over the kitchen floor with a very loud crash.
Leon’s heart has never dropped so fast, and he’s hit with a sudden overwhelming feeling of nausea. He was just about to blow dry his hair when he heard the crazily loud commotion and a yelp. He’s quick to drop the hair dryer running down the stairs as fast as he can, missing steps as he does.
“I’m okay- I’m alright,” you tell him as he rushes into the kitchen, stopping as he looks at the mess on the floor. His eyes scan over your body to check for any injuries.
“Baby, what the fuck?” He sighs catching his breath as he guides you carefully from the broken porcelain shards, holding your hand gently.
You smirk at him, noticing that he’s shirtless and the way his shower-damp hair sticks to his forehead and tiny little droplets of water trickle down onto his shoulders.
“Don’t look at me like that- you almost gave me heart failure” he says with no control over the smile that teases his lips when you begin to giggle at him.
He feels older than he is around you, and he swears you will give him grey hairs. But then again he couldn’t complain without you he’d be completely and utterly lost in this crazy world.
You watch as his eyes widen ever so slightly looking down at the small little cut that scratches at your arm, it must’ve happened when you bumped into the dish strainer. You sigh looking down at the blood that trickles from the cut.
“Baby, you’ve got to be more careful,” he tells you with an almost firm tone, but you know it only comes from a place of love, he cares far too much about you. He grabs the first aid kit you keep in one of the cupboards, washing the tiny cut with an alcohol wipe before gently sticking the plaster to your minor injury.
He notices the guilt that seeps into your facial expression, how your eyes seem to drop, “I’m sorry, I just don’t want you getting hurt” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face as he presses a loving kiss to your cheek.
You both look over to the mess that still covers your kitchen floor, “God, I made such a mess” you sigh, resting your head against his chest.
“Yeah, good luck with cleaning it” he teases, laughing at the way your groan against him.
You close your eyes as if that would make the mess magically disappear, and his hand settle against your hips.
“You wouldn’t let me clean this all by myself,” you tell him with confidence in your chest.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He questions tilting your chin with his thumb as he makes you look up at him.
“Because you love me too much” you giggle as he rolls his eyes, peppering kisses all over your face.
“Mhm, come on let’s clean up- and you’re banned from the kitchen for the rest of the night” he says. You smile at him with endearment as you both get to work on cleaning up the of dishes that are spread across the floor.
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querenciasturniolo · 8 months
Text
missing you ⮕ c.s.
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word count: 822
warnings: swearing
summary: chris is back in boston from chicago, and you decide that you were sick of missing him
a/n: i’m just in the mood to write for chris, lately. also a two word title ? crazy concept.
everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.
“Just come over.”
You rolled your eyes and rolled over in your bed. Chris’ request sounded almost impossible as you pulled your comforter over your shoulders.
“I’m exhausted, I wouldn’t dare getting out of my bed.” You whined, Chris chuckling and shaking his head. He’d facetimed you only moments before, aimlessly walking around and making way too much noise.
“I’m surprised Mary-Lou hasn’t told you to quiet down.” You teased, Chris pulling a face and looking down at you on his screen.
“She’s at the store, so I’m free to be as loud as I want.” He said. You snickered and finally pushed yourself up.
“No, you aren’t. Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to take a nap in here.” Nick’s voice rang through your speaker, Chris whipping around with wide eyes just as you heard Nick’s bedroom door slam shut.
“We just picked him up from the airport—needless to say, he didn’t appreciate us messing up his room and not cleaning it.” Chris said, his voice significantly quieter than before. He wasn’t looking at the camera anymore, but you didn’t care.
Facetiming Chris was either him rambling about something he thought of for a solid three hours, or it was just sitting in silence as he went about his daily routine. You didn’t mind, you knew it was just because he wanted your company, even if you weren’t there.
“How are you?” You asked. It’d been a while since you’d last seen him, considering they’d just gotten back to Boston from Chicago. He glanced down at the screen for a moment and shrugged, his eyes going back to whatever he was doing.
“Oh you know, the usual. Seeing Skies was fucking awesome, but it’s good to be home. Missing you.” He said. He paused, pulled a face and shook his head. “That was corny, ignore that.”
You laughed. “I’m telling everyone, I’m gonna completely ruin your street cred.” You teased, Chris mocking you playfully as it sank in that you really did miss him. Even talking to him had your heart constricting in yearning. It had been too long since you’d seen him.
“I’m gonna take a shower, I’ll call you back after, okay?” You said, Chris humming and nodding his head. “Alright, I love you.”
“I love you too.” He said before you finally hung up, jumped out of your bed and headed to your bathroom. You decided about halfway through your shower that you were going to see Chris.
You got dressed and ready before grabbing your keys and heading towards the door. You could feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, most likely being a text from Chris joking about how long your showers take.
The drive to their house was almost routine, each turn and stop being done on autopilot until you pulled into the driveway. You stepped out of your car and shut the door lightly, pulling your phone out and shooting a text to Matt to let you in.
Before you reached the door, it was swinging open and Matt was looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Why didn’t you text Chris?”
You shrugged and stepped into the house, turning to face Matt when he shut the door. “I told Chris I wasn’t coming over, and I realized I wanted to, so it’s kind of a surprise, I guess.” You said, Matt nodding and following you up the stairs.
“He’s in his room, I think.” He said. You followed him and went up the stairs after him, walking past him to get to Chris’ room. The door was open, Chris laying on his bed with his back facing the door. You smiled and tiptoed across his room, reaching his bed and deciding at the last second to jump. You hit the mattress, Chris shouting and whipping around to see you curled in on yourself laughing hysterically.
“Jesus Christ, Y/n! You gave me a fucking heart attack.” He said, his own laughter consuming him as he turned to face you. Tears were rolling down your cheeks, your stomach aching as you tried your best to calm yourself.
“You should have seen your face!” You squeaked, your hands wiping your cheeks roughly as Chris rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around you.
“Well, yeah. I thought I was under attack, or something.” He said, his smile wide. He pulled you close, your laughter finally subsiding as you relaxed into him, your cheeks sore from how hard you were laughing.
“So what changed your mind?” He asked. You hummed and closed your eyes.
“I just figured I could lay in your bed with you instead of in mine alone. Also, missing you was getting old.” You teased, Chris rolling his eyes and pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m never gonna live that down, huh?” He said. You smiled and turned your head, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips.
“Never.”
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fhrlclln · 1 year
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Would you ever write for like rockstar!eddie and reader like maybe she's an actor or something or she's his high-school sweet heart and even after he got famous he stayed with her
rockstar! eddie x wife! reader
OMG, ok so you caught my attention. i’ve always wanted to write for rockstar! eddie. i also daydreamed a lot that the reader is his wife (and yes, his highschool sweetheart as well) you know like that bombshell wife that even his fans simp for her as well, gets featured in some magazines and shows. alongside tour interviews and such.
i can imagine the dynamic between them sort of like ozzy & sharon (without the major toxicity but the yelling is there) but overall, you’re just one hella of a wife to corroded coffin’s frontman. and he’s very proud to show you off every interview he gets.
this time they’re doing a reality tv one! like the Osbourne’s.
suggestive themes under the cut
。・:*˚:✧。
another day in the munson household… 
“eddie!” you shouted amidst the large canopy of the munson LA mansion. the camera man swerves the camera to eddie munson’s face, eddie fucking munson, leader of one of the grossing rock bands alive in the 90’s. he lets out a sigh as he can hear your heels stomp against the hardwood large stairs as he looks to the camera with a smirk, counting in his head for your barge in as he speaks. it was another filming day for their own reality tv show, his manager urged him to do this, fans demanding wanting to know more about him and his darling wife. you.
“ah, and here comes my smoking hot angry wife—“
the door slams open inside the studio room, the camera whips to you. all dolled up, fresh from your make-up room, wearing a very tight dress that hugged your body nicely. he wasn’t even focused on the terrifying anger written on your pretty face, just that he’s very focused now on your chest. the camera man backs away, slightly scared, seeing as you had something in your hand. fan mail apparently! tons of it in your hand as the other was situated on your hip, very angry stance.
it was cute to him.
“baby, darling.” he greeted with a smirk, urging your hothead to come closer to him, he was sitting on his office chair, the one he always sat on whenever he would spend nights in this studio room to write or compose a song.
“send panties in the mail! panties? are you out of your fucking mind!?” you threw the mail at him, huffing and puffing with anger. the camera man captured this one moment they all knew would be another hit on mainstream. your fights with eddie were certainly a blockbuster for every corroded coffin fan, plus you were hot in it.
“sweetheart, chill! i meant it as a fucking joke, geez—“
another mail was thrown at him, this time he can clearly see the lace of some fan’s panties were peeking out. oh, was he dead. he is popular with the ladies, you were very hyperaware of that and you despised some groupies for getting a lil’ close during concerts or meet-ups, mainly the obsessed ones you couldn’t stand, but they’re not the wife. you are, so in perspective, you won when it comes to them. and you trust eddie, he’s not that stupid.
“baby, what did you expect? they’re fucking crazy.” he snorts, tossing the mail away. you crossed your arms, boobs squishing, eddie gawked at it with no shame.
“you’re laughing at this? i can’t believe you! you’re such an ass—“ you pouted, fuming red in your eyes. eddie shook his head as he grabbed your arm, knowing well you were going to calm down once he gets in you in his lap. you noticed it.
“that’s not gonna fucking work—“
“try me.” he hums, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sat snuggly. leaning your back against his naked chest littered with tattoos, your name tattooed above his heart. your face somehow manage to soften yet still annoyed at how it worked. munson charm. damn him.
“you okay, baby?” he asks kissing your neck, looking to the camera with a wink and a smirk.
“i will strangle you.”
“i thought that was for the bedroom—“
“i will shove this remaining mail up your ass if you open your mouth again.” you warned, pinching his arm. he yelped at how sharp your nails were as you sighed, simmering down now as he placed kisses on your bare shoulder. the expensive scent of your perfume and body wash making him buck his hips up a bit. so addicting. the camera focuses on the sweet moment as you rubbed your forehead, a headache coming in.
“oh, baby. ‘m sorry.” he cooed.
“don’t.” you huffed. “i don’t like this.” you emphasized to the mails on the ground.
“ ‘course baby, i haven’t even fucking opened them yet.” he place a sloppy kiss on your neck. “and i never will. if that makes up for it.”
“thank you, eds.” you sighed in relief. his heart bloomed as he winked to the camera again. mouthing ‘munson charm’.
“gotta remind them, sweetheart, you’re my wife. nothing’s gonna come between that, ey? not even fucking panties.” he reminds you, grasping your chin to look at him. reminding you how many years you two have been together, since highschool, since that incident back in the upside down, being each other’s first experiences and all. you are the love of his life.
his large thumb caressing your bottom crimson lip. you nodded silently, still a little annoyed, his handsome grin widen as he kissed you. tongue and all, still not ashamed he’s showing this intimate moment on camera then probably on television soon. you wriggled, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants form. you hummed on his mouth, liking the sloppiness as you pulled away, all shy now noticing the camera again.
“and stop sending me panties!” he pointed to the camera. “i’m flattered, but i got plenty already.” he joked, earning a smack from you again. the camera man eventually said cut as you both relaxed in each other’s arms.
“today’s film was great, mr. & mrs. munson. thank you so much.” the cameraman smiled nervously as you smiled back widely, still seated on eddie’s lap.
“no problem, lemonade’s downstairs in the kitchen. help yourself!” you kindly offered as eddie placed kisses again on your neck. hot and heavy he is, it was such a turn-on whenever you got mad at him. the door closed shut as eddie finally got a breather. focusing on you now and his ache in his pants.
“so sexy today, baby.” he mumbles, voice low and deep. “getting you all riled up.”
“mhm. if you ever say stupid shit to your fans, munson. i will kick you out.” you hummed tilting your neck to the side as he nipped your soft skin making you let out a quiet whimper.
“hey, they love you getting mad as well, can’t blame ‘em.” he laughs, squeezing your boobs. the fans were crazy for you as much as they are for him. you chuckled remembering the time you got featured on the front page of playboy magazine, everyone went wild. eddie was fuming at that time but he didn’t hide the fact that he bought at least numerous copies of it, supporting your fame. “you’re such a fucking bombshell. ‘m so lucky.”
“i swear, eddie!” you swatted his hands away as he whined.
“i promise!” he laughs heartily as you smiled again. a moment of silence transpires, you two have been together since ‘86, the large mansion was awfully lonely when he’s away on tour, leaving you here sometimes. you love him, really. since the day he clumsily asked you out by the bench in the woods. supporting him throughout, until his band got in with a label. signing them up. being his soulmate, sticking with him until now. something was just missing in the munson household. the thought a important one for you, and you knew clearly what you wanted next. knowing eddie gives you everything.
“what do you think about a little munson running around here, eds?”
。・:*˚:✧。
wrote this in one sitting!
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tvgals · 9 months
Text
‘ CHILL OUT ‘
pt.3
READ PARTS 2 AND 1 BEFORE READING THIS !
— e42! miles morales x black! fem! reader
synopsis — you’ve been cheated on, you’ve been lied to, and you’ve been heartbroken but you damn well ain’t gon be wallowing in self pity forever.
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“you’re not mad?” jess asks you, her face covered in surprise. “nope.” you shrug, grabbing your bag full of snacks and walking out of the store, jess trying to follow up behind you. “on god?” she inquires, biting the inside of her cheek. you kept on walking without any response. “i take that as a no. look, please don’t say anything to jaya. she really trusts me and-“ jess is cut off with you heaving a sigh. “you’ve been talking shit too, huh?” you confront jess, well..not really..it’s more of a yes or no question. “what? ahah! why would you say that?” jess chuckles nervously, twiddling her thumbs.
“i’ve known jaya since sixth grade and i been living in brooklyn since i was born. i know when people talk shit about me, i’m not an idiot. so i will ask you one more time,” you take a deep breath. “have you been talking shit?” jess sighs and stops walking, turning around and walking the other way. that was enough of an answer for you. “fuckin’..” you mumble, walking back to your dorm. everything fell apart within the span of two days. you learned your boyfriend cheated on you, your so called “friend” was talking shit about you to someone new. this was terrible. you missed miles, as much as you hate to say it. you wanted him to hold you and have him tell you he loves you and all of this never happened. you look on your key ring and see the key to miles’ dorm room. you change routes and head over to his room, hoping it’d just be him so his roommate wouldn’t have to hear the oh so awkward conversation. you walk up the stairs leading to the dorms and find yourself outside miles’,contemplating on leaving. before you could think anymore, you insert the key into the lock and walk in, the smell of miles’ cologne hitting your nose. you walk into miles’ room to see him on the bed, seeming as if he’s sleeping. you knew this was a dumb idea. you bite your lip and turn to leave.
“come back..” miles mumbles, rolling into the wall to make room for you. “miles-“ you groan. “just come here. please.” you take your shoes off and lay next to him, trying to not make bodily contact with your ex. in his bed. you and miles sit in silence for a while, listening to the bustling sound of traffic outside and the occasional laughter of children walking down the street. “miles.” you whisper, turning to face him. “yeah?” he whispers right back. “what really happened?” you ask, watching miles hands inch closer to your own.
“if i tell you this you won’t do nothing stupid, right?” miles turns to you, cocking a brow. “promise.” you tell him. miles sighs. “y’know that party i went to like a month ago?” you nod. “i was walking ‘round talkin’ to people, and yo’ lil’ friend jaya came up to me talking bout how she wanted to get put on with me — so i said no cause i already got a girl, right?” you nod along while miles talks. “then she was talking ‘bout how she was better than you this that and the third and i’m like, ‘what?’ you feel me?” you scrunch your face up. someone has to be lying. it’s either him or jaya. “wait wait,” you interrupted him. “jaya said you called her phone?” miles scrunches his face up and looks at you crazy.
“forreal? nah, she’s lying to you ma’.” miles chuckles lowly, pulling you into his side. “are you sure?” you question him, ignoring the fact he told you he did inafct cheat.
“mhm.”
you couldn’t help but think he was lying too, miles was prone to lie. like the time he said he would come home at 9 and came home at 2:30 in the morning or the time he told you he’d never lie to you, but he did, and you couldn’t help but think he’s doing it again. “you’re a liar, miles.” you whisper into his stature.
“i wouldn’t lie to you-“ “but you would. you’ve done it countless times and you expect me to fall for it again. well i won’t, miles morales,” you tell him, pushing yourself off of the bed and walking out his room. “baby, come back.” miles says sternly, getting up and following behind you. “no. you can’t force me to stay here wit’ yo lying, cheating ass. you told me you cheated,” you pointed an accusatory finger into his chest. “and you wanna sit here and sweet talk me? well it’s not gonna fucking work.” you sniff, turning around and walking out the door.
you were gonna get your revenge and fast.
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